Good Girls Stay Quiet

by Jo Cassidy

  Jenna’s cheeks flared. Her voice dropped to a whisper and she mimed clapping. "Open your present or I will."

  Normally fear would flash its sinister smile in these situations. Worry and dread of Daddy finding out would eat at me, clawing at my poise. But I couldn't stop the smile that inched its way onto my face. Taking hold of the bag, I put it on my lap and peered inside. A journal and gel pens. The urge to kiss Brendon on the cheek traveled through me, taking me by complete surprise. No guy had ever caused that reaction. Heat rushed to my neck and cheeks. I pulled out the journal and used my finger to trace the purple floral design on the cover. "Thank you."

  "It's so beautiful!" Jenna covered her mouth and smiled sheepishly at the glaring librarian. She mouthed, sorry, before the librarian could scold her again.

  "I know it's not your missing one," Brendon said, "but I thought this could replace it in the meantime." He pointed to the combination lock on the outside. “Small protection, in case someone tries to take it.”

  My eyes wandered over his arms. I'd seen girls give guys hugs at school. It seemed common among friends. Was Brendon my friend? Would hugging him be a normal reaction to a present? The thought of touching someone else, especially a guy, riled up too much panic in me. What if I made him angry? He probably didn't want me touching him. Or he'd get the wrong idea.

  "Speaking of your missing journal," Jenna whispered, "I've ruled out Kendra. She has absolutely zero interest in you." She blushed. "Sorry."

  I held the journal close to my chest. My first, real journal. One I hadn't stolen. Someone had bought it and given it to me. My eyes went to Brendon.

  He scooted his chair a little closer to me in a casual manner. "I don’t think it’s Julien, but I’m not one hundred percent positive. I talked to him last period." His finger tapped the top of the table. "Dalton's next on my list. He seems more likely than any of the others."

  Jenna held up her palm. "My money is on Sydney. She's done stuff like this before."

  My fingers curled around the journal. "What? When?"

  "In elementary and middle school," Jenna said. "She has a history of taking things that don't belong to her." She sat back in her chair and folded her arms. "Like my Shawn Mendes binder."

  Brendon chuckled. "She probably took it so she could light the thing on fire."

  Jenna rolled her eyes. "Why are guys so jealous of Shawn?"

  "Who's Shawn Mendes?" I asked. "Does he go to our school?"

  By their reactions, I'd said something wrong. Again. Jenna's jaw was practically on the ground. "Please tell me you're joking."

  Brendon wiped the shock off his face and replaced it with a smile. "You don't need to know who he is. This makes me like you even more."

  Even more than what? He liked me? As a friend? I needed to talk to Noah or Sally. Sally was a better listener, but I had to go to timeout to talk to her. Noah always gave me attitude. We'd hardly spoken since I'd lost my journal.

  "I'll send you some of his songs." Jenna pulled out her phone. "What's your phone number?"

  I fiddled with the numbers on the lock of the journal. "I don't have one."

  "Okay, your email address.” Jenna's fingers moved across the screen on her phone, but I couldn't see what she was doing.

  My voice was low. "Don't have one."

  Jenna's wide eyes went to mine. "Do you have anything? Snapchat? Twitter? Instagram?"

  Both my legs bounced, and I pressed the journal tight to my chest.

  Brendon's hand landed on my leg, and I quickly pulled it away. He held up his hand. "It's okay, Cora. I'm not going to hurt you."

  "Why would she think you're going to hurt her?" Jenna asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “You seriously think the weirdest things, Brendon. Have you been binge watching Bates Motel or something?”

  Brendon and I locked eyes, and I swore he could see into my soul and all the dark things I kept buried way below the surface. Normally people didn't pick up on my fear and anxiety. They just took it as a social problem and left me alone. Somehow Brendon saw past all of that and knew what was inside of me.

  He slowly moved his hand toward my leg. My eyes stared as his hand inched closer and then landed right above my knee. My leg immediately stopped bouncing and tensed.

  "I'm your friend," Brendon whispered. His volume turned back up. "It's okay if you don't use all these social sites and know lame singers."

  Jenna held up her hand. "Shawn Mendes is so not lame." She threw a rolled-up piece of paper at Brendon. "You're lame." The bell to end lunch rang overhead. Jenna groaned. "We didn't even get to work on our project. We'll have to get together after school."

  Despite Brendon's hand being on my knee, my leg began to bounce again. "I can't."

  "Another family thing?" Jenna used air quotes.

  Brendon shot her a dirty glare. "It's okay. Jenna and I will work on the project, and then we'll show you what we came up with tomorrow during lunch. You can help fix all our mistakes."

  "What?" Jenna crossed her arms. "Why do we have to do all the work? That's not fair."

  "I'll do it." I shoved the journal, bag, and pens into my backpack. "I'll do the project tonight at home. You two won't have to do a thing." I stood, stepping away from the table.

  Jenna's anger melted, her arms loosening. "That's not what I meant. I don't want you to do all of it. I just want us to do it as a group. Equal participation and all that."

  "Is there any way your father will let us meet at the library after school?" Brendon asked.

  I shrugged. "Not sure. I can ask."

  Brendon stood and came close, pulling me away from Jenna. "Will that get you in trouble?"

  Licking my lips, I folded my arms and hugged them close. "I don't know. Maybe. It all depends on his mood."

  "Okay." Brendon twisted his lips in thought. "If he seems happy, tell him you have a school project that's very important and is due soon." How did he understand so well? Was his father like mine? He hadn’t talked about his family much, so I didn’t know.

  "When is it due?" I asked. My mind had been so scattered, I hadn’t been paying much attention in any of my classes.

  "Friday," Brendon said.

  Jenna came up to us. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have to get to class. See you in French." She sauntered out the library doors.

  Brendon began walking, pulling me with him. We stepped outside into the afternoon sun. The warmth made some of my anxiety flutter away.

  "Jenna and I will be at the library at four," Brendon said. I headed toward my class, and he followed alongside me. The concern and understanding hadn’t left his eyes. "Only ask him if he's happy. Tell him it will only be for an hour." He grimaced. "Tell him he can come if he wants."

  "Don't sound so excited." I tried not to smile, but one came anyway. Brendon somehow made me smile even in the darkest times.

  He bumped my shoulder. "Can you blame me?"

  "Nope. It's how I feel every day." My feet stumbled. I shouldn't have said that out loud. How did Brendon keep getting me to drop my guard – say and feel things I shouldn't?

  We stopped outside the locker room. Brendon placed his hands on my arms, causing me to flinch. My bruises from Daddy’s tirade hadn't healed. But Brendon took my motion as fear of him touching me, not of me being hurt.

  "Cora, we can get you out of this and away from him."

  I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t be alone. "I don't want out." Tears welled up in my eyes, and I fought them back. "I love him. He loves me. We're usually very happy."

  Brendon dropped his arms. "That makes me feel a little better." His tone wasn’t convincing. The tardy bell rang. "I'll see you next period." He waited for me to nod before he left, a hint of doubt lingering in his eyes.

  I hoped that Daddy would be in a good mood when he picked me up from school. Otherwise, I had no idea how we'd complete our project. Keeping Daddy happy was my number one priority. But feelings had developed for Jenna and Brendon. Friendly, warm ones. I wanted to be around them
and get to know them – which broke every survival rule I’d created.

  If anything happened to either of them, I'd never forgive myself.

  Chapter 13

  Mr. Mendoza called me into his office during P.E., which relieved me somewhat. My athletic abilities were non-existent. I never played sports with Daddy, so starting P.E. in public school was my first introduction to softball, basketball, and volleyball. So far, it hadn't gone well.

  "Feeling any better?" Mr. Mendoza asked, sitting tall in his chair.

  I clung to my backpack and Husky. "Yes." Sticking to one-word answers would be my best bet when it came to the guidance counselor. Short sentences and thoughts were so much easier to manage and gave me a smaller chance of making a grave error. It was why I used them a lot.

  "Good," he said. He wasn't wearing a tie. He'd opted for a sweater over his button-down shirt, which still didn't fit him and his wide frame. It looked wrong on him. Out of character. "Have you thought more about signing up for a club?"

  "Yes."

  He raised his thick eyebrows. "Yes, you've thought about it, or yes, you want to join a club?"

  I rubbed Husky. "Considered."

  "And?" He stared at me, hope in his eyes.

  I hated letting people down, especially authority figures. But I couldn't join a club. Daddy would never agree to it. He'd been on edge lately and getting upset at everything. I couldn't afford to anger him. My body couldn't handle it. "No."

  He sighed and sat back in his chair. "Why not?"

  One-word answers were harder than I thought they would be. Almost impossible. "Time."

  "Time," Mr. Mendoza repeated. "I think this is worth making time for." He drummed his fingers along the table. "I'd like to meet your father."

  "No!" My fist tightened around Husky.

  His eyes widened. "Why not?"

  I couldn't lose control. It added suspicion. Exactly what I didn't need or want. One-word answers were stashed aside until further notice. "He's busy and I don't want to worry him."

  "Why would that worry him?" He leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting them on the desk.

  I stroked Husky. "Getting called into school to meet with you? He'll think I'm in trouble or something. He has a lot on his mind. I don't want to add unnecessary worry."

  "Cora, meeting with parents to talk about their child's future is common. If anything, he'll be happy that we're investing time into your future."

  My future involved living with Daddy. Taking care of him. College was not in my future. Having a career, getting married, having kids, owning a home – none of that would ever happen for me.

  Daddy was my future.

  "I don't want to join a club, sir. I'll keep getting good grades, focus my time on graduating high school, but that's it. It's all I want."

  Mr. Mendoza studied me for a minute. My answer had upset him. I could see it in his eyes. But I wouldn't change my mind. Not everyone had to be in a club or organization.

  He finally sighed and sat back in his chair. "Okay, then. Classes going well?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Friendships?"

  "Great." I was so happy and relieved to be back to one-word answers. I could handle those.

  "Boyfriend?"

  Heat flared on my cheeks. The smirk on Mr. Mendoza's face told me he'd noticed.

  "No." My thumb grazed across Husky. It wasn't a lie. The thought of being with someone, being close or physical, had caused me to blush. I'd never had a boyfriend, nor did I think I ever would. I thought Brendon was cute with his red hair, freckles, fun shirts, and endearing smile, but that didn't mean anything. He'd never look at me that way, and he couldn't. Relationships were out of the question. Daddy would never allow it. People couldn't get close to me.

  "You still with me?" Mr. Mendoza asked.

  "What?" I hugged my backpack tighter. "Yes."

  He pointed to my bag. "You can put that on the floor."

  "No, thanks," I said, stroking Husky.

  "Something valuable in there?" he asked.

  My eyebrows furrowed and my heart fluttered for a moment. "Why would you ask that?"

  He smiled. "You're gripping onto it like you never want to let go. So, you're nervous, have something valuable, or have something you don't want anyone to find." He sat back in his chair. "Which is it?"

  Nothing important was in my backpack. I'd hand it over if he asked. I had nothing to hide since my treasure had already been stolen. But if I admitted I was nervous, he'd want to know why. Spin the truth. "Nervous. Sitting alone in a room with a man scares me."

  Mr. Mendoza pulled back in surprise. "Has something happened to make you feel that way?"

  I stared at my lap. "It just makes me uncomfortable." I shrugged. "Maybe I read too many books."

  "That's usually not a bad thing." He folded his arms, closing himself off from me. "I'm here to be an aide for you, nothing more. We can always have the secretary sit in on our meetings if it would make you more comfortable."

  "That won't be necessary." Because I wanted nothing more than to end my meetings with him.

  He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "Cora, how is everything at home?"

  I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. "Why?"

  "I saw you get in your father's van the other day," Mr. Mendoza said. "He looked angry."

  I rubbed Husky. "Dads get upset. It happens."

  He shook his head and sighed. "It was beyond anger. It was more like fury. And you . . . you were scared."

  How did I respond to that? I'd hoped Mr. Mendoza hadn't noticed. But there were some things that were hard to hide. I was lucky he couldn't see my back. My scars, both inside and out.

  "He had an appointment, and I made him late. One of his top clients." Partially true.

  "Why did that scare you so bad?" He had his pen in his hand, ready to write down anything I said.

  "I, uh." I licked my lips. Lies created too big of a hole. Daddy always found out when I lied. I had no doubt Mr. Mendoza would do the same. The bell rang, and I jumped from my seat. "I have to get to French."

  I bolted out of there before Mr. Mendoza could stop me.

  I'd never talked to a guidance counselor before Mr. Mendoza. I wondered if I was obligated to see him. Just because he called me into his office, did I have to go? Maybe I'd say no next time. Refuse to go. But I wasn’t sure if I was brave enough to do that.

  Chapter 14

  Daddy's van drove up along the curb, falling into line with all the other vehicles. As I approached the van, I saw his fingers drumming along the steering wheel, and he was singing along with an oldies song that drifted out the rolled down window. A good sign.

  "Hi, Daddy." I hopped in the seat and shut the door. "How was your day?"

  He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "Wonderful. You?"

  I did my best to ignore my wildly beating heart. "It was good. Aced a test in history."

  "That's my girl." He checked both directions of traffic before he slowly pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

  "Daddy, remember that project I told you about for my French class?"

  He stopped at a red light and looked over at me. "Yes."

  Swallowing, I worked moisture into my mouth. "It's due on Friday, and we can't work on it in class."

  "When does your teacher expect you to do it then?" His good mood was slipping away.

  "After school.” My hand itched to reach up and yank on my braid, but I refrained. "At the library."

  The light turned green, so Daddy accelerated, but after a noticeable pause. "I see. Will all the groups be there?"

  I shrugged. "Maybe some. I didn't talk to anyone else, so I don't know when they are meeting. My group said they could only meet today at four. Will that work for me?"

  He remained quiet for a while. His fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

  "You could come with me." I’d hate for him to come, but it would ease his worry.

  "I
have an appointment at four. I don't want to cancel with my client. They're a regular."

  He couldn't know how much I wanted to go and spend time with Jenna and Brendon. I pulled my backpack into my lap so I could run my fingers along Husky. "Maybe they could just do it without me."

  "You really want to rely on others for your grade?"

  I shook my head and made sure there was hesitation in my tone. "Not really. But what choice do I have?"

  He took a few deep breaths. "I’ll drop you off at the library on the way to my appointment and pick you up as soon as it is done."

  Inside, excitement bubbled, but I kept the uncertainty in my voice. "Are you sure, Daddy?"

  He briefly smiled. "You'll be fine. Just stay in ear and eye shot of a librarian. If you feel unsafe or scared at any time, go stand by them and wait for me to come get you."

  "Okay, Daddy." My fingers tightened around Husky. "I can do that."

  He pulled into the driveway and turned off the van. "I'm sure your group partners will be very happy to have you. You'll be the smartest one there."

  "I hope so," I whispered, trying to conceal my enthusiasm. "I don't want to let them down or hurt their grades."

  Daddy rubbed my cheek, his fingers rough against my skin. "You'll do great, sweetheart." He opened his door, jumped out, and came around to my side to open the door. "Let's get you a snack before you have to go. We want your brain ready to work." He poked my nose, and I forced a giggle.

  "Thanks, Daddy." I gave him a kiss on the cheek before we went inside. That went a lot better than I had anticipated. Usually, I was good at reading him. I'd know how much to say or how far to push things. But lately, his anger had magnified, which I hadn’t thought was possible. There had to be something going on, but there was no way I could ask him.

  Daddy dropped me off at the library ten minutes before four. I found a table near the front desk, smiling at the librarian as I sat down.

  I'd just put my French textbook on the table when Brendon sat down next to me. "He let you come."

  "He let me come."

  Brendon smiled. "I had a feeling he'd drop you off early, so I waited outside, out of sight."