by Karlik, Mary
He wasn’t conscious again until Austin pulled into his drive. “Thanks for the ride, man.”
“I did it because Kelsey asked me to.”
Justin got out of the truck and rubbed his hands over his face to wake up enough to make it into the house and to his bed. As he walked up the sidewalk to the door, his heart sank. The house was dark. It was after four in afternoon and the house was dark.
He opened the door and the weight of exhaustion tripled. Shit. He kicked off his loafers and padded down the hall to the bedrooms. But he didn’t go into his room and fall into bed. He couldn’t. He had to take care of her first.
“Mom?” He knocked on the door before pushing it open. The room was darker than the rest of the house. He knelt next to the bed. “Hey, are you okay?” Of course she’s not okay. Why else would she be in bed on a Saturday afternoon?
The covers had been pulled over her head to shut out any light that might have seeped through the closed blinds and curtains. Her thin hand reached out from under the bedspread and touched his arm.
He uncovered her head and stroked her hair. “Can I get you anything?” Conflicted feelings churned in his gut. His mom couldn’t help her depression. But he was exhausted. And just once, he wanted to come home and find his mom the way she’d been before the accident.
“No. I’m sorry, Justin. It’s been a dark day.” Tears ran down her cheeks and onto her pillow. “I haven’t thought about dinner.”
“It’s okay, Mom, I’ll do it.” Again.
“I’m not much of a mom anymore.” She dabbed her eyes with what was left of the wadded-up tissue she held.
“Don’t say that.” He handed her a fresh tissue. “Have you eaten anything today?”
She didn’t answer.
“Come on. Let’s get some food inside you.” He helped her sit up and grabbed her robe off the end of the bed. “Have you talked to Dad?” She shook her head and allowed him to help her with her robe. “Let’s move to the den.” She leaned on him as he led her to the den and then plopped onto the sofa as if the walk down the hall had taken the last bit of her energy. He was tempted to join her. Just flop down on the couch, sit in the dark, and rest. But knew he couldn’t. No matter how tired he was, he had to take care of her.
He pulled open the vertical blinds covering the sliding patio door. Light poured into the den and kitchen. His mom flinched.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Maybe some crackers. I’m not hungry.”
He dug his keys and wallet out of his slacks and tossed them on the eating bar that separated the kitchen from the den. “How about a salad? You like salads.” He riffled through the refrigerator and found an anemic-looking head of lettuce and a squishy tomato. She hadn’t been to the store in a while, and he’d been so busy with school and football practice that he hadn’t noticed.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called his dad. “Hey, I just got home. Are you working late?”
“Dark day?”
“It’s bad. I got her to the den. Dad, there’s nothing to eat. Can you pick something up?”
“Sorry, son. I’m working until eleven.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He hung up and tore the pale lettuce into a bowl. It felt good to shred the pieces, but not good enough. As tired as he was, he wished he had something to hit—hard. This was not supposed to be his life. He shouldn’t be taking care of his mom. It wasn’t like his dad was too dense to see that she was in a severe depression. Anger surged at his dad for not insisting she get help.
“Was that Dad?”
“Yes. He’s working until eleven. Do you want me to bring your salad to you?”
“No. I’ll come there.” She got up and moved to the eating bar.
Good, maybe she was coming out of it. He chopped the tomato into her bowl, squirted some ranch dressing on top, and pushed it in front of her.
“Are you wearing your suit?”
“Yeah, I just got home from the dance.”
She nodded and let out a long sigh. “Eric is a good kid—good family.”
Yeah, a good kid. Except he screwed Chelsea and dumped her. He wanted to tell her about the fight, about rescuing Ryan from the fountain, and the drama at the Quinn house afterward. But the mother he could share those things with had died along with his sister.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t erase the image of her lying there, cold and all alone.”
“Think of something else, Mom. I’ll get some crackers for your salad.” He placed a roll of crackers next to her plate and poured some ginger ale into a glass. There was no point trying to stop her—he’d been through this countless times. It was always this way when she was having a dark day. But he had to try.
“Eat some salad.”
“I was house shift manager that day. I had to go to the ER. Careflight was on the way and they called in extra people to work. Both trauma bays were full and the third girl was taken to room eight.”
He felt his chest tighten. He hated this part of the story. “Mom, it was horrible, but it’s done. Please, eat some crackers.”
“I saw her there, Justin. All alone.”
“Mom, they didn’t know who she was.”
“It didn’t matter—she shouldn’t have been alone.” His mother’s tone turned angry.
“She was gone, Mom. They were trying to save the other two.”
She shoved the bowl across the counter toward Justin. It dropped off the end and clattered into the sink below. “They should have tried to save her.”
He rounded the counter and placed his hands on her shoulders. “She was gone by the time they got there. You know there was nothing anybody could do. You have to let it go. We can’t fix this.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you see, Justin? If I let it go, I’m abandoning her—just like they did.”
He gave her shoulders a slight squeeze and looked into her eyes. “Chelsea’s gone. But Dad, and you, and me—we’re here. We have to keep going. You’re stuck. She wouldn’t want that. She’d never want you to stop living.” He was wasting his breath. She didn’t want to get better. He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “If you don’t start eating, you won’t be here either.” He went back to the kitchen, fixed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and slapped it on the counter in front of her. “Here, you can eat this.” He bit the words out. “We don’t have much else to eat. I’ll go to the store tomorrow.”
He retreated to his room and flopped onto the bed. Tears came to his eyes and a few trickled down his cheeks before he was able to check his emotions. He wouldn’t give in to it. He wouldn’t allow himself to be sucked into the hurt and anger he felt in his chest.
He’d watched his mom go there too many times over the past two years. More than that, he’d watched his family fall apart. God, his family was a freaking hot mess. His dad was obsessed with work. He spent more time taking care of strangers than acknowledging the shit at home. His mom was frozen in her grief. All Justin wanted was to be a normal guy. Play football, kiss girls, have a little fun. Chelsea used to call him “little brother heartbreaker.” He took a deep breath and let the pain settle deep.
He missed his sister.
He looked at the drawing that hung above his desk—a pen and ink of a football player diving through the air with his hands clasped around the ball and reaching toward the goal line. Chelsea had given it to him for Christmas the year she died. She’d drawn other football pictures, but this was his favorite. He liked the anonymity of it. It could be any player.
Guilt for leaving his mom to fend for herself seeped through his self-pity. He got up and headed back to the kitchen. She was sitting on the sofa with the remote in her hand, but she hadn’t managed to turn on the TV.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I haven’t slept.” He sat next to her.
She patted his thigh. “It’s okay. I needed something to snap my brain out of it.” She tried a smile but it looked awkward on her face. “Did you boys play vid
eo games all night?”
He gave a sort of shrug nod.
She clicked on the TV. “Get some sleep. I’m okay now.”
“Sure?”
She nodded. “Go.”
He kissed her on the top of her head and went back to his room. He stripped off his trousers and dress shirt, fell into bed, and didn’t open his eyes again until the next morning. When he awoke, the first thing on his mind was Ryan Quinn. He stretched and moved to his desk.
He clicked on his Facebook page and did a search for her. Bingo! He sent a friend request. He got an acceptance almost instantly.
Justin: Hey. How’re you feeling?
Ryan: Eh. Better since I’ve slept.
Justin: Good.
He was trying to think of something to say when she sent the next message.
Ryan: Family time. Got to go.
He sat back. Family time. What a concept. He scrolled through her pictures. Most of them were of various sculptures… and no pictures of friends. On the sidebar he noticed that some chick named Kat Guilin had tagged her in a picture. He rolled the cursor over the entry to highlight it. Wow. Something about the lip and eyebrow rings told him this chick wasn’t a member of the Purity Club. Or it could be the way her tongue hung out of the side of her mouth like she was looking for head. Ryan’s face was smashed against the other cheek—though it hardly looked like Ryan. Her short hair was spiked and her eyes looked messed up—like high messed up. Next to her profile picture, Kat had written, Epic party, better than Ryan Quinn’s legendary bong-a-rama.
What’s this? The sins the PC scrubbed from her? How did they find out? Why pick on her? It wasn’t like she was the only kid in school who’d smoked weed.
There was more to this story than bullying. They had targeted her and he was going to find out why.
5
Ryan slept for most of the rest of the weekend. She’d hoped by Monday that her face would look somewhat normal, but when she looked in the mirror, nausea rolled through her stomach. Some of the scrapes were weeping and had a yellowish crust. The right side of her mouth was swollen more than the left and it hurt to open her mouth.
She was a monster.
She dropped to the floor and leaned against the bathroom cabinet. Why? Was she so horrible that she deserved to have her face ripped up? She couldn’t go to school—couldn’t go anywhere.
Kelsey leaned into the bathroom. “Wow, it looks worse than yesterday.”
Ryan nodded. “It hurts worse.” She spoke without moving her mouth.
“I’ll get Mom.”
Ryan retreated to her room. She wanted to crawl into bed and forget the whole thing. She hurt everywhere—arms, legs, chest, neck, and face. Her face. She looked like something from a horror flick. She hugged her pillow.
Her parents came into her room and sat on the edge of her bed.
“Can I stay home? I don’t think I can handle school today.”
Her dad said, “Another day in bed would probably do you some good. Come for just the meeting. Mrs. Johnson needs to see what they did to you.”
Ryan nodded and let a few tears trickle out of the corners of her eyes. He was right. Nobody would believe what had been done to her without seeing it.
Her mom hugged her. “You look like you hurt.” Ryan nodded. “I’ll get you a cold compress. Do you need pain meds?”
She’d love to take the meds the doctor had prescribed and be zapped into oblivion, but she wanted to be alert for the meeting. “Just ibuprofen.”
Thank God, her parents waited until after school had started to escort her to the office. She didn’t want to be gawked at by kids in the hall. The sweatshirt with the hood pulled over her head didn’t hide much of her face, but she felt less exposed in it.
When they walked into the office the receptionist recoiled. “Honey, what happed to you?”
Her dad leaned on the counter. “We need to see the principal, please.”
The receptionist picked up the phone and pushed a button. “Mrs. Johnson, Ryan Quinn and her parents are here to see you.” She hung up the phone and stood. “Right this way.” She guided them down a short hallway to the principal’s office.
Mrs. Johnson greeted them and ushered them to a table in the corner. Once they were all seated, Mrs. Johnson’s face creased with concern. “Ryan, what happened?”
Her mom answered, “She was attacked by Macey Brown and several other girls in the Purity Club. They held her down in the courthouse fountain and took scouring pads to her. They claimed they were cleansing her of her sins.”
“What?” Mrs. Johnson pushed a button on her phone. “Mrs. Bettis, could you join us, please?”
Ryan zoned while her parents explained what had happened, including the meeting with the girls’ parents, to Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Bettis, the counselor. They agreed to disband the club.
Mrs. Johnson told Mrs. Bettis, “I want the girls involved in the fountain incident in my office, now.”
Ryan looked at her dad. “I don’t want to be here when they come in.”
Mrs. Johnson’s expression morphed from in-charge principal to sad lab puppy. “You don’t have to face them, honey.” At the word face she blushed, which created a weird contrast with the pity-eyes. To Ryan’s parents, she said, “I’ll make sure her assignments get to Kelsey. I’m assuming she’ll be out at least a week.”
So Mrs. Johnson didn’t want the freak at school. Granted, Ryan didn’t want to be there either, but somehow having someone else echo that feeling annoyed her.
Ryan’s mom stood. “We’re taking it a day at a time.”
“Kids can be so cruel and I’d hate for Miss Ryan to endure any more trauma.” Her tone oozed sap. Mrs. Johnson stood and clasped her hands in front. “Take care of yourself.”
Ryan crawled into the backseat of the SUV and tried to put a name to the feeling in her chest. Sorrow? Anger? Despair? They all seemed to fit, yet none of them adequately described what was going on inside her.
She had been the one excited to move to Hillside, who couldn’t wait to start a new life at a new school. It seemed like such a good plan. Leave her old life behind, reinvent herself, become who she wanted to be. How had it all gone so wrong? She leaned her head into the seat. She’d tried so hard to fit in, to be one of them. Now she was back to ground zero. No friends. And worse, she was left looking like a monster.
Was this the punishment for her past—her scarlet letter?
She took a deep breath and sighed it out. No. She refused to believe God worked like that. She’d been attacked by bullies hiding behind Christianity. Nothing more, nothing less.
Mrs. Johnson’s words swirled in her mind. It would be so easy to hide away until her face healed. But then they’d win. She leaned forward. “I want to go back to school.”
Her dad had just pulled from the parking lot. “What?” He did a U-turn and pulled back in. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not going to run. I have to face everybody sometime. I want to get it over with.”
Her mom swallowed hard. “You constantly amaze me.”
Her dad parked the car and opened his door, but Ryan stopped him. “I’ve got this, Dad.”
He looked back at her. “Are you sure you don’t want us to walk you in?”
“Yes. I’m good.” She forced a smile. “I’ll see you after school.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, call.” Her dad closed his door as Ryan grabbed her backpack and opened hers.
“I won’t.” She straightened the strap on her shoulder and walked back to the office.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
The bell signaled the end of first period as she signed in. The halls were instantly filled with students and as soon as she exited the glass cocoon of the office, they would see her. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. She choked back fear. If I hide, they win.
She forced her face into a smile and ignored the pain she felt—inside and out. When she turned from the desk, she saw her sis
ters waiting for her on the other side of the glass doors.
When she joined them Kelsey said, “Mom texted us.”
“Thanks.”
Mackenzie didn’t say anything, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“I’m okay, Kenzie.”
She bit her lip, nodded, and looked away.
Kelsey said, “I saw the PC girls this morning. They acted like nothing happened. They’re going to get away with it, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know. Mrs. Johnson called them into the office.” They set off toward her locker. “I don’t want to think about them now. I just want to get through today.” She pretended she didn’t see the winces and wide-eyed looks of pretty much everybody she passed. She would survive.
Erica, a girl from her Art class, approached her at her locker. “I heard what happened. I just want you to know I hope those bitches get what they deserve.”
“Thanks.” So do I. She grabbed her books and turned to her sisters. “I’ve got it from here.” She hugged them. “Thanks.”
Kelsey said, “Text if you need us.”
“I will.” She closed her locker and headed to Shop class, where she sat at her worktable. She’d been by herself since the term began. It’d never bothered her before, but today she felt isolated from the rest of the class and her confidence waned.
Then Justin slid onto the stool next to her. “Hey, you okay?”
She smiled the first non-fake smile of the day. “I’ll survive. Did you get some sleep?” He didn’t look like he’d rested since he’d left her house Saturday. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes.
“Some.” He rolled his shoulders like he’d dumped weight from them. “Hey, gimme your phone.”
“Why?”
“So I can enter my number.”
She handed over her cell and he typed in the number.
“If you need anything, you call. I mean it.” He flashed his dimples and her stupid, sore face went from smile to painful grin. She grabbed her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut until the pain eased.