Good Girls Stay Quiet

by Jo Cassidy

  Before I got my journal back, I had to figure out how to carry out the culprit's wishes: steal test answers.

  There was this small part of me that hoped I’d get caught and arrested. Then the truth would be revealed, and I’d be thrown into a juvenile detention center. I wouldn’t have to worry about Daddy hurting me again or being in the foster system.

  I’d finally have a place where I belonged.

  Chapter 19

  I pressed an ear against my bedroom door, listening and waiting patiently for Daddy to finally go to bed. His boots paced along the hall on the floorboard. Mumbles drifted through the cracks of the door, but I couldn’t make any of it out – until he got loud.

  “I’m doing better than you ever did!” Daddy roared.

  Who was he talking to? There was no way he’d let someone else in the house, and he normally wouldn’t be on the phone that late.

  His fist pounded against the wall, the sound of cracking drywall filling the air. “I’m the best father she’ll ever have, no thanks to you.”

  A sneeze slithered up my nose, and I tried to hold it in, but it exploded out of me. Dead silence rang on the other side of the door. A minute passed before his footfalls faded toward his room, and just a few minutes later, his snores drifted down the hallway.

  As much as I wanted to figure out what was going on with Daddy, I didn’t have time. Standing, I thought through my plan. I would sneak out my window, walk to the school, break in, take the answers, and come back home.

  When Daddy finally let me have a room, he installed iron bars outside my window to keep the bad guys from being able to get in. Almost every night, I'd opened the window and stared out at the moon and stars. One evening when I was thirteen, my elbow banged against one of the bars, and it wobbled. I shook the bar, twisting it back and forth until it came loose.

  At that moment, panic had flooded my body, practically drowning me. I didn't want Daddy to find out I'd broken something of his – he got so angry whenever I did. I'd searched all over my room trying to find something – anything I could use to put the bar back in place, if only temporarily. In my backpack, I'd found a pack of gum I'd taken from the store. I’d peeled back the wrapper, shoved a piece into my mouth, and worked it into a moldable consistency so I could use it on the bar. It wasn't ideal, but it held for the night until I could get some sticky putty from the garage the next day.

  I'd never snuck out of the house, but I liked knowing I had the option. It gave me some comfort I desperately needed and a way out.

  I was small enough that I should’ve been able to squeeze through the bars. I'd thrown everything I would need, plus a couple journals I'd retrieved from the walls, into my backpack. I picked it up, threw it on my shoulder, and went to the window. I was about to lift the pane when someone rapped on the glass.

  I jumped into the air, my hand landing on my chest. Who was outside my window in the middle of the night? Maybe the blackmailer had come.

  They tapped on the glass again, and I looked over my shoulder, hoping Daddy was too deep in his sleep to have heard anything. I waited a few seconds before I pushed the panic down inside and opened the window.

  Brendon stood on the other side, his hands on two of the bars. I stumbled back a few steps, adrenaline rushing through my body. What was he doing at my house?

  He had on a blue shirt with a red triangle with an S in the middle. "How did I not notice these bars before?" He frowned. "Sorry. I should have. . . . Are you okay?"

  Forcing my trembling legs, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us so I could see his eyes. Worry was etched all the way around. His fingers extended and I did something I'd never thought I'd do: I linked my fingers through his. Heat ignited inside.

  "I'm fine," I whispered, my shaky tone betraying me.

  He leaned his forehead against the bars. "You're imprisoned inside a room. I wouldn't qualify that as fine."

  Taking hold of the loose bar, I removed it from the putty and quietly set it down on the floor of my room. “See? I’m not imprisoned. They were here when we bought the place. Dad’s never gotten around to removing all of them.”

  The tension in his body slightly released and he linked his fingers back with mine. "Where have you been? We've missed you at school."

  I couldn't meet his eyes, so I stared at the fraying Band-Aids on his fingers. "I've been sick."

  His fingers squeezed mine. "You don't have to lie to me."

  “I’m not lying.” I licked my lips. “I tend to get sick a lot.”

  His voice turned sad. “My friend was the same way. And I always believed him and never did anything about it. Now I’m wondering if I made the wrong decision.”

  I wanted to ask him about his friend but didn’t want to give him the wrong idea that I was in the same situation. I forced myself to look into his eyes. “Brendon, I’m fine. I promise. I have everything under control.”

  He sighed. “You don’t have to hide everything from the world and go it alone.”

  "It's easier that way," I said, casting my eyes downward at the S on his shirt.

  "Easier for you or me?" he asked, his tone filled with frustration.

  I raised my eyes to his. "Both."

  We remained quiet as we stared at each other, both silently shouting and begging each other; me, to be helped, and Brendon wanting to help me. But neither of us knew the answer. We were both powerless.

  I absolutely hated the feeling.

  Maybe if I told him about the blackmailer, it would move his focus off my home situation and make him feel like he was doing something to help.

  "I need your help," I whispered, slicing through the silence. I needed to leave as soon as possible. Daddy could walk in at any moment.

  "Anything. Name it, and I'll do it."

  I'd never met anyone like Brendon. So completely selfless and kind, and putting his neck on the line for someone he hardly knew. Jenna cared about me, but she wasn't the one standing outside my window in the middle of the night, knowing she'd have to come late so Daddy wouldn't know she was here.

  "I have to break into the school tonight."

  Brendon's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's not what I was expecting." A smile broke out onto his face. "Why are we breaking into the school?"

  I unlinked our fingers and lowered my hands. "You aren't going to like it."

  He gestured to my current situation of being locked in my room. My own personal prison that I couldn’t tell him about. "I don't like any of this."

  "I have to steal some test answers." I stared at him, waiting for his reaction.

  He just stared at me, face blank. "Test answers? You're smart, Cora. Why would you need that?" He arched an eyebrow. "Unless you're just one of those people who do things for the thrills."

  I rolled my eyes. "Yep. That definitely sounds like me."

  "Why?"

  "The person who stole my journal. They called today. If I don't deliver what they want by tomorrow after school, they're calling the police." I wanted the words back as soon as they left my mouth.

  He took a step back and folded his arms. "I like that plan. Let's call the police."

  Being gentle, yet urgent, I reached my arms between the space where I’d removed the bar, took hold of his shirt, and pulled him toward me. "No police, Brendon. Ever. Promise me."

  His hands squeezed between the bars and landed on my waist, making me tense. But I held firm. “Why?” he asked.

  “I know you’re worried, but I know what I’m doing. You must trust me. No police. Please.”

  He shook his head. "I could never promise you that. But if it's what you want for now, then fine. But I swear, if something happens to you, I'm calling the police."

  "Why do you care so much?" I let go of his shirt and smoothed it out, my hands running over his chest. I traced the S on his shirt.

  "Because no one should be treated like you are," Brendon whispered, a tenderness in his voice I’d never heard before. "You don't deserve this." A fra
ction of a smile appeared on his lips, making me look at his freckle. "It also helps that you're pretty."

  Heat erupted on my neck and cheeks. I was grateful for the dark so Brendon couldn't see.

  Noah suddenly cleared his throat. “Could you shut the window, please? You’re letting in a draft.”

  His declaration snapped me back into reality. We needed to leave before Daddy caught us. Picking up my backpack, I handed it to Brendon.

  "What's in here? A rock?" he asked, setting my backpack on the ground. "It's freaking heavy."

  "Just a few things we might need."

  He pointed to the opening. "You really think you can fit through there? I mean, you're tiny, but this isn’t very wide."

  I shrugged. "Won't know until I try."

  I lifted my leg and pushed it through the opening. It was a tighter fit than I thought. Brendon wrapped his arms around me and helped me out. Being so close to him helped distract from my back, which burned from where Daddy had struck me. Thank goodness Daddy had replaced the bandages before he went to bed.

  When my feet landed on the grass, I looked up at Brendon, our faces inches from each other. He held me, staring down into my eyes, and running his hand over my braid. A new sort of fear worked its way into my blood.

  Brendon was the first guy I'd ever been physically close to. Most guys scared me and wove alarm deep into my bones, strangling me tight. I didn't trust them. They were bad.

  Something was different with Brendon. His eyes held concern, so sincere it pained me, but also warmed me. It gave me the smallest ounce of hope that maybe there were decent people in the world. Maybe it wasn't as bad as Daddy said it was.

  Daddy.

  He'd hurt me if he saw me in Brendon's arms. He’d definitely hurt Brendon – maybe even kill him.

  Brendon must have seen the fear in my eyes, because he immediately dropped his arms and stepped back. "I'm so sorry, Cora. I'm not trying to take advantage of you or anything. If I ever get too close, tell me. The last thing I want to do is scare you."

  How could he know me so well? How did he know my fears that I kept locked away inside?

  Unless he'd seen my journal. Then he'd know everything.

  Chapter 20

  The night was a tad chilly. I hadn’t thought to bring a jacket, but at least I had on long sleeves as usual. We passed all the brick homes in silence. Brendon was probably thinking as much as I was. Would my plan work? Could we possibly get the test answers, or would we just get caught?

  When we got to the grassy park halfway to school, I turned down the sidewalk and headed toward it. Ash trees were scattered through the area. What would it be like to sit under one during the day and read a book?

  "What are you doing?" Brendon asked, glancing around. So late at night, there was no one around. Only a few streetlamps illuminated the area.

  "I need to burn my journals."

  He laughed but stopped at my frown. "You're serious? They took one journal. You don't need to destroy all your others."

  I moved my backpack to the front of me and held it tight. "You don't understand. No one can see what's in these journals. No one." They weren’t just damaging to Daddy. They were damaging to me. All my sins were in there as well. I’d never worried about people judging me if they read my journals, but I never had anyone like Brendon and Jenna where I cared what they thought of me.

  Brendon tried to take one from my hand, but I yanked it away from him.

  "What's in there?" he asked. "Evidence?"

  "It doesn't matter." Because if he knew, he’d never let me burn them. He’d find out the entire truth and probably hate me for it. He’d look at me differently. He was the only one who’d shown concern for me. Once he read the journals, he’d see the weak, damaged version of me and run.

  We stopped near a pavilion, and I set my backpack on a metal table. I unfastened my cuffs and rolled up my sleeves.

  Brendon took hold of my arm, looking at the bandage covering it. "What happened?"

  I sighed in frustration. He questioned everything. "Accidents can happen to me, you know. I cut myself when I was making dinner." I'd done that in the past. It was rare since I always tried to be careful, but occasionally, I lost focus.

  He raised his eyebrows. "You cook?"

  I stood tall. "Yes, and I'm good at it."

  I took a journal, ripped out a few pages, and set them in a fire pit near the pavilion. I stared at the papers lying there. My words. The only things that had ever truly been mine were about to be burned. Maybe it would be therapeutic and help me start over. I could stop holding onto the past and focus on a future with Daddy. Without my journals, I could quit school, and everything could go back to how it was.

  I looked over at Brendon. He watched me in a contemplative silence, like he was trying to read my thoughts. I’d pulled him into this entire mess. He knew too much. I never wanted him to get hurt. I took a step closer to him, looking up into his eyes, seeing the concern and compassion.

  He gave my braid a little yank. “You sure you want to do this?”

  Licking my dry lips, I nodded. “I have to.”

  My attention went back to the papers in the fire pit. Destroying my journals would help Brendon as well. It would end our friendship, and he would be safe from Daddy and his wrath. We’d all be safe.

  I pulled a matchbook from my pocket. I’d taken it from a restaurant Daddy had taken me to for my twelfth birthday. It was one of the few times we’d gone somewhere nice. I wanted to remember it, but I also liked the thought of having the matches just in case I ever needed protection.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I took a deep breath and with a shaking hand, I lit a match, and touched the flame to a page, watching it ignite. I threw page after page into the fire, until every single piece from both journals was destroyed. The smell of ash taunted me, reminding me I could never undo the damage. I’d never get those pieces of my life back. A few tears slid down my cheek.

  Brendon watched, not saying anything. He may have thought I was crazy, but I was doing what I had to do to protect my family. And him.

  A part of me died with the burning pages. My whole life was in those journals. Every truth, every fear, everything I had been through faded away with each destroyed page like it had never happened. My life was being erased in the blink of an eye. Inside, I screamed and writhed in agony. I hated that I had to erase my life.

  But the journals had to be destroyed. All of them. Including the one that had been stolen. I had to get it back and burn it like the rest.

  The last embers faded, releasing some of my tension. I still had a few dozen to burn. A couple at a time wasn't going to be enough. I'd have to figure out another way. But I didn't trust anyone else to burn them for me. Not even Brendon or Jenna. The only person I'd ever be able to fully trust was myself.

  Or maybe not. Could I trust myself? Would I really be able to burn the rest of my journals and wipe out my entire life? After the mistakes I'd made and all the emotions I’d let control me, I wasn't so sure.

  "We should get to the school," Brendon said, his voice soft like he knew the pain I was feeling. He gently took my hand in his. It was soft and warm. "Before your dad notices you're gone."

  He was right, but the impact of what I’d just done slammed into me. Turning around, I wrapped my arms around his middle and buried my head into his chest.

  He held me close, being gentle. When I began to sway - the motion soothing - he moved with me. He kept his cheek pressed against the top of my head and I soaked in his warmth. Closing my eyes, I hummed a calming melody in my head until the tears stopped.

  I pulled back just enough to look up at him. I placed my hand on his cheek, wanting to thank him, but I couldn’t find the words. He put his hand over mine. With his other hand, he wiped away my tears.

  My gaze fluttered to his lips and the freckle in the corner.

  Brendon took my hand on his cheek and pressed a soft, warm kiss against my palm. “We really need to go.
”

  If a real kiss felt as good as that, I hoped I got a chance to experience it before I never saw him again. I sighed. “I know.”

  With clasped hands, we headed toward the school.

  It took longer than I hoped to get to the school. We'd gone slow, taking lots of turns and hiding in the shadows. The last thing we wanted was to be spotted. We also wanted to make sure we weren't followed.

  I stared up at the large, two-story brick building and sighed. They locked the school up tight at night. None of the doors or windows were options.

  "Know how to jimmy a lock?" Brendon asked.

  Pursing my lips, I shook my head. "It's not on my list of skills." The locks were on the outside of my door, so I could never attempt to break free.

  "Then how do you expect to get in?"

  "Follow me."

  We crept around to the back of the school. Luckily, the science classes were on the first floor. I stopped near a large window, cupped my hands, and peered inside. The sight of flasks and beakers made a small smile spread across my face. A science class.

  Shadows covered the area behind the school, leaving a creepy feeling. But I was grateful for the darkness. I pulled out a rock and towel from my backpack.

  Brendon scratched his forehead. "You know, I was kidding about the whole rock thing."

  I smiled at him. "You have a better plan of how to get in?"

  He rubbed his hands together. "Well, seeing as breaking and entering weren’t on my original to-do list tonight, nope."

  Wrapping the towel around the rock, I made sure every spot was covered and then bunched the remaining part of the towel to use as a hold.

  "You might want to step back," I said.

  He took a couple of steps away from me. I swung the rock into a window, shattering the glass. The motion tugged at the cuts on my back, and I cringed in pain. Brendon kept looking around, seeing if anyone had heard the ruckus. It had been louder than I had expected. I smashed the rock against all the glass still stuck to the frame until there was plenty of room to get in without cutting myself.