by Liz Fichera
“That’s not the point, Riley. Your behavior was irresponsible. It was careless and you’re lucky it was only a minor accident.”
“We’ve been over this, Mom.” A hundred times already. I’d had to listen to Mom and Dad talk about it, over and over and over again, as they waited with me in the Emergency Room after the accident. They’d talked above me as if I weren’t seated between them, either, as they both voiced their displeasure at my behavior, how they’d never expected me to get in trouble. What did they expect of me, anyway? Wasn’t I allowed to be a teenager? Wasn’t I allowed to do anything wrong? Ever?
“Well, then I think you’ll understand why your father and I have decided that you won’t be getting a car when you get your license—”
I almost leaped across the bed. “But you promised!” My hands squeezed clumps of the bedspread beneath me till my knuckles ached.
“Not until you can prove that you are a responsible teenager, Riley. Not one minute before.”
“But Ryan got into all sorts of trouble and he still got his car! How’s that fair?”
“Your father and I expect different things from you, Riley.” Her steady hospital voice had returned. “I am more than a little disappointed.”
I fell back against the pillow, breathing through my clenched teeth. I needed air. I needed to get away from here. “Well, that makes two of us.”
“You’re acting like a spoiled brat.”
Yeah. I totally was.
Mom rose. Her chin lifted. “You are not allowed to get on the computer today. You’re not allowed to use your cell phone.” She looked around my room and spotted my cell in the middle of my desk. She snagged it, along with my laptop, even the power cord. “And needless to say, you are not allowed to leave this house under any circumstance today. Is that clear?”
I didn’t answer. I refused to answer.
“Is that clear?” Mom said again.
I didn’t answer. Again. I only saw red.
“I’ll see you after work. We’ll talk more then,” Mom said, walking to the door with my lifeline to the outside world tucked beneath her arm. “Catch up on your homework. Mr. Romero tells me you’re behind in every class. Unless you’d like to spend your summer in school, I’d suggest you get reacquainted with your books.”
My insides raged. I leaped off the bed and then spun around my room in a panic. Everything I cared about was missing. No phone. No laptop. Only my schoolbooks sat in a lopsided stack on my desk. I didn’t have the desire to read any of them. For the first time, I didn’t want to sketch, either. My fingertips pulsed. They tapped against the bed, faster and faster. I was afraid of what I would do, could do, wanted to do.
Mom shut the door. A minute later, the phone rang inside our house. I tilted my head but only heard muffled voices through the walls. Then footsteps shuffled across the hallway and a knock sounded at the door.
Instead of waiting for me to say something, Mom burst inside my room, pointing the cordless at me. “For you,” she said.
My eyes widened. I was shocked that she was letting me take a call, especially since I was basically being held captive. “Who?”
“School,” she said. “You have two minutes.” She tossed the phone on my bed and turned to leave the room.
I gulped. School? A teacher? The principal? Was I being expelled? “Hello?” I said, my voice almost catching.
“Riley?”
My eyes narrowed. “Yes?”
“It’s Sam.”
“Sam!” How’d he get past Mom? I’d never been so happy to hear from anyone in my life. “Oh, my god, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“I just talked to Mr. Romero. I heard you were in an accident. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. My parents are totally overreacting. I barely nudged a guy in front of me.”
“It was your fault?”
“So it would seem.”
“When will you be back?” he said.
“Not soon enough.” And that was the truth. I’d rather be anywhere than inside my bedroom.
“Well, I’m sorry that you got hurt,” Sam said. “But I’m glad you’re okay.” The phone went silent. “I was worried.”
My throat tightened, feeling his concern. Hearing his voice. In the background, I could hear lockers clanging shut. A bell rang. I’d rather be there, with Sam. I’d rather be anywhere but here.
“Well, I better go—”
“Wait!” I sat higher. “Don’t go!” Then I cupped a hand over the phone. There was so much I wanted to tell him, least of all the fact that he was the only outside contact I would probably be allowed to have until I turned twenty-one. “Sam…” I said, wondering how to say it. So I just said it. “I really need your help.”
“What can I do?”
“If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to lose my mind. I’m afraid I’m going to do something stupid.” I paused. “I need you, Sam.”
He paused. Finally, he said, “Don’t do anything else stupid, Riley. Okay? Your track record hasn’t exactly been great lately.”
“Would you want to run away with me? Today?” I blurted. “I’ll go anywhere.” My voice caught again. “Please?” I’d never sounded so desperate in my life. In fact, I sounded so desperate that I was certain Sam must have considered me certifiable.
Sam paused. “Look, Riley, I’ve got two killer exams today—”
I wiped my hand over my nose, all of my excitement about running away fading in an instant. “Forget it,” I said, sniffing, as tears leaked out of my eyes. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have asked. Anyway, thanks for calling. And good luck on your exams. I mean it.”
“When you get back, we’ll talk, Riley.” Another warning bell rang in the background.
“Okay.” My eyes turned cloudy. “But you better get to class.”
And then I hung up before Sam could say goodbye.
38
Sam
The week dragged. It was Friday and Riley hadn’t returned to school yet.
Sitting beside Vernon in homeroom, I listened to Principal Graser’s monotone voice through the overhead speakers as he rattled off the morning’s announcements. His words made my head hurt, especially when he mentioned prom. Thanks to Riley and apparently Jay Hawkins, I’d been nominated for the junior prom court and had gotten enough votes on the school’s website this week to make it to the final five. How was that even possible? I was friends with, like, six people in the entire school. It had to be someone’s idea of a bad joke, probably Hawkins. I’d never wanted anything less in my entire life and I had a sick feeling that Hawkins knew that already. He was the kind of twisted guy who’d appreciate something like that.
“Everything okay, Mr. Prom King?” Peter leaned over from the seat beside mine.
“Shut up.” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
Peter’s face darkened. “I’m serious, dude. You okay or not?”
“No.” I sank lower into my seat. “I don’t know.” Riley’s offer to run away had been weighing on my mind. As much as I hated to admit it, I missed seeing her at school, in the cafeteria, at her locker. I even missed spending time with her after school, just the two of us. I had thought about borrowing Vernon’s phone again and calling her about a dozen more times. Jeez, why couldn’t I zap that girl and her crazy out of my head?
Peter lowered his voice. “Does this have something to do with Fred?”
I turned to him. “Fred?” I shook my head. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought about Fred in a whole week. “No. Why?”
“I thought I heard she broke up with Berenger?”
“Another stupid rumor. Don’t believe it.” Fred had told me that she and Ryan talked the day after Jay’s party and straightened everything all out. “They’re very much together, believe me.”
“Oh.” He leaned back, considering that. He didn’t sound convinced. “Saw you talking to her outside the cafeteria the other day. I just wondered. Well, you know…”
“No,”
I said. “I just needed—” But I stopped myself. I wasn’t about to tell him I’d needed the Berengers’ home phone number after Mr. Romero had dropped the bomb on me about Riley’s car accident. And Fred hadn’t asked why when I’d asked her for it. It must have been the desperate look in my eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Forget it.”
Peter gave me a shoulder shrug. “Okay, bro.”
“Oh, god.” Vernon exhaled. “Dudes. You gotta see this.” Vernon was looking down at the cell phone between his legs, careful to keep it hidden behind the person in front of him, not like it mattered very much. The homeroom teacher’s eyes stayed glued to a sheet tucked inside a folder, his pen scratching checkmarks against the paper.
Peter and I nudged closer for a better look at his phone. “What up?” Martin whispered.
“Berenger’s sister?”
My voice rose. “Riley?”
“Uh-huh,” Vernon said, still staring down at his phone. “Hawkins plastered her pictures all over his Facebook page again. A few new ones, this time.” He made a choking sound. “Must have been from the party on Friday night. Now I know what everyone was buzzing about in the parking lot.” He sucked air between his teeth.
“Give me that.” I reached over and yanked the phone from Vernon’s hand. My thumb scrolled through a handful of photos as my breathing fought to catch up to my heartbeat. Riley with her eyes half-shut. Riley with her shirt lifted above her stomach. Riley chugging a beer bottle, smoking a cigarette. She barely looked conscious in any of them. Hawkins had labeled them Good Girl Gone Wild, even mentioning that this was a new feature on his Facebook page. Feature! What a great friend…
My fists ached to punch something. All I knew was that if someone posted photos like that of my sister, Cecilia, on his Facebook page—or anywhere—he would seriously wish he hadn’t after I got through with him. How Ryan didn’t know what was happening between Hawkins and Riley bothered me. Why didn’t he want to take Hawkins apart, starting with his smarmy smile and then working his way down, limb by rotten limb?
I tossed the phone back to Vernon and then popped up in my chair at exactly the moment that Principal Graser started talking about prom. “I gotta get out of here,” I said to the guys, not bothering to look at them.
“Where to?” Martin said but I ignored him.
I grabbed my backpack, hitched it over my shoulder and then stormed down the row straight for Mr. Holdren, who suddenly decided to look up from his folder.
Mr. Holdren didn’t ask why I needed a pass to see Mr. Romero before first period, and for that I was relieved. I had no intention of seeing my guidance counselor. It was too late for guidance.
As I broke out of homeroom into the empty hallway, I heard my breath whooshing out through my mouth and nostrils. It muffled the noises around me—a locker slamming, the creak of a classroom door opening, somebody’s sneakers squeaking across the linoleum floor behind me. Principal Graser’s voice was still filling the overhead speakers with updates and reminders, but all of his words blended together.
I walked to the middle of the hallway and faced the row of homeroom classrooms. There were at least six classrooms in this hallway and I knew Hawkins was in one of them. I waited, stuffing my clenched fists in the front of my pockets. I had no idea what I was going to say to him or what I was going to do but I knew we were going to have words, as my dad liked to say when he was upset with me.
The bell rang, buzzing throughout the entire school, and people began to shuffle behind the closed homeroom doors. Almost at the same time, all the doors opened and students streamed out and filled the hallway with clatter.
My eyes scanned heads as my heart thumped against my chest.
Fred and Ryan walked out of one of the rooms to my right, holding hands. For once, I was halfway glad to see them together. I locked eyes with Fred and she beamed at me, clearly pleased that she and Ryan reconciled, but I looked away in the next beat before she could read me.
I turned left, scanning the bodies for the obvious red-and-black letterman jacket, my eyes mindful of the clock that hung high in the middle of the wall. I had five minutes before I would be late for calculus.
The air in the hallway grew thicker as people pushed open the front doors behind me to cut through the courtyard. Just as I was about to give up and bolt to class, I spotted his grin.
Jay sauntered out of the middle room directly in front of me, surrounded by three of his friends. Typical. They cackled louder than everyone else in the hallway. My knuckles tightened.
As Jay stepped into the stream of students heading to the west wing of the school, I took my hands out of my pockets and took one step into the center of the hallway, blocking his path. He’d have to go through me if he wanted to get down the hallway.
Jay’s jaw dropped with surprise, his face turning a shade paler, but only for a moment. Then his glare lifted to mine.
His friends stood beside him like a fortress, forcing everyone to squeeze around them. The odds weren’t in my favor. There were four of them, two more wearing those lame letterman jackets, but I didn’t care.
“What’s up, Just Sam?” Jay said with a forced laugh. He even added a little military two-finger salute, causing more laughter from his minions. “Here to thank me for getting you nominated to prom court?” When I didn’t answer, he added, “Don’t mention it,” before shoulder-shrugging at his buddy.
My nostrils flared.
“You know, it was Riley Berenger’s idea,” he said. “She practically begged me to get the prom committee to nominate you.” Then he grinned. “Of course, I can never refuse a hot girl.” His eyebrows wiggled like there was more to the begging. Like Riley traded him something for the favor.
I wanted to puke. What had she done? Why would she waste a second of her life with him?
Speaking became difficult, especially when Jay looked at me like he held all the cards. Instead of saying anything, I wanted to punch the grin off his face and be done with it. But I forced myself to say through gritted teeth, “We need to talk about Riley.” First Riley, then I’d tell him where he could stuff his prom nomination. He only wanted me nominated to improve his chances of winning. Jay never did anything unless it could benefit him in some way.
Jay shook his head like he didn’t know who I was talking about. Then his eyes narrowed and his grin spread. He was enjoying watching my frustration. “Wait. You and Riley?” He wagged his finger between us. His voice got louder, making sure the whole hallway, the whole world heard him. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
It was impossible not to roll my eyes at him. “This has nothing to do with me and Riley and you know it.”
He chuckled. “You know what I think, Just Sam? I think you’re full of shit. You like her, don’t you?” He was enjoying this.
I decided to listen to him blather for exactly five more seconds.
“Hate to tell you this—” he spoke out of the corner of his mouth, looking from side to side as if the hallway wasn’t filled with dozens of students “—she sure didn’t act like your girlfriend Saturday night.” He was enjoying himself a little too much for my liking.
“What exactly is your problem, Hawkins?” I said through gritted teeth.
He waved me off. “Just yanking your chain, Tracy. Chill out.” Then he paused. “You better keep a leash on that one. She’s one hot tamale.” He growled while he rocked his hips.
“Now who’s full of shit,” I said. Jay’s overly white teeth snapped shut when I took another step closer, my fists balled, even as a few nervous laughs floated around us.
Students began to form a tighter circle around us.
The circle grew three deep, then four. But my eyes stayed laser-focused on Jay. I noticed that the corner of his mouth began to twitch the closer I got. “You gotta take down those photos of Riley from your Facebook page,” I said. It wasn’t a request.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Jay’s chin pulled back as he feigned innocen
ce. “Humph. I wasn’t aware that you and I were Facebook friends.” His shiny lips pouted like a child’s.
“You’re a prick, Hawkins,” I said. “Those photos are wrong and you know it.”
His innocent smile darkened. “And you need to mind your own business.”
“Riley is my business,” I said before I could think of something else to say. People around us began to whisper and that’s when I noticed that the hallway had grown quieter despite the wall of people surrounding us. No one seemed interested in making it to their first period classes on time.
“And those photos are mine,” Jay said.
“You’re an asshole,” I said, closing the space between us. I was seriously considering snapping his head off his neck.
“Did you ask her?” Jay’s chin lifted, challenging me.
I scoffed. “Don’t need to.”
“Ask her what?” said a voice behind me.
I turned. Ryan Berenger stood beside me, his eyes focused on Jay. He was surrounded by Vernon, Martin and Peter. Fred stood on tiptoe behind Vernon for a better look, her face frozen into a glare aimed at Jay and his buddies.
Jay fake-laughed. “No big, Ryan. Just had some fun with your sis last weekend at the party.”
Ryan took a step closer until he was practically chin-to-chin with Jay. “Yeah? What kind of fun?”
“You were there. Remember?” His grin returned as his gaze swept between Ryan and Fred. “I seem to recall you were—” he cleared his throat, his eyes darting between Fred and Ryan “—rather occupied.”
Ryan started to close the gap but I grabbed his arm. This wasn’t his fight. This was all mine.
“Just check out his Facebook page,” I said without turning to Ryan, my eyes still cutting razor blades into Jay’s. “That should answer your question.” It was hard for me to mask my irritation even with Ryan because, seriously, if I knew, how could he possibly not know what happened between Jay Hawkins and his own sister? He was at the party!