by Sara Hantz
Just saying it out loud sends waves of disgust shooting through me.
“I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand? The kid said I touched him. In the words of the police, inappropriately. You know what that means, don’t you?” I wrap my arms around my head and begin to pace in a circle. Why is this happening to me now, just when things were starting to look up? I want to punch someone, or something. Anything to release the tension.
“B-but you didn’t,” she says. “Did you?” She adds, so quietly I have to strain to hear.
She slams her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that I thought you did. God, no. I’m sorry. It just didn’t come out right, that’s all. I’m so sorry.”
I stop dead in my tracks, lift my head, and stare at her. Guilt is written all over her face. She thinks I did it. Or thinks I could do it. Semantics. It amounts to the same thing. If she doesn’t believe in me, then what’s the point of anything? I need her to be on my side, not to have doubts if I’m to get through this.
“Whatever.”
“Jed, I’m so sorry. I know you wouldn’t touch Tom.”
“You don’t know.” I snap. “No one knows what I’m capable of, although we could hazard a good guess, knowing my background.”
“I thought we’d discussed all this,” she says gently, resting her hand on my arm. “You’re not like your dad or grandfather. You have a choice.”
“Yeah, you say that now,” I say shaking off her arm. “But only a second ago, in your mind, you had me abusing Tom Bilson. I get it. Why wouldn’t you think that? It’s what everyone else thinks, too.”
Summer lowers her head, but not before I see tears glistening in her eyes. I hate to see her upset, but how does she think I feel knowing that she could think that of me?
I stride off in the direction of the car. Once I’ve given Summer a ride home, there’s only one place I’m heading, and that’s to the liquor store with my fake ID.
…
“God, you look awful,” Summer says as she walks into the kitchen. “Are you okay for school?”
I kept my promise to myself and got wasted last night. Only I did it in the comfort of my bedroom and not the park or any other public place. That way, no one can accuse me of doing anything. I’ve been up since five, vomiting. Now there’s nothing left inside of me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”
I take a step in her direction, and as I get close, she wrinkles her nose.
“No guessing what you’ve been doing. Have something to eat before we go, even if it’s just a breath mint. You still reek of alcohol.”
She shakes her head and lets out an exasperated sigh. It’s like her bossy kindergarten side is coming out again, which I haven’t seen in years. Usually, she gets her own way more subtly.
“Who do you think you are, my mom?” I draw my lips back attempting to grin, and wish I hadn’t as it pulls painfully on all my facial muscles.
I don’t want her to think I’m still mad with her. I’m over it. The situation is what it is. And I’m still under suspicion for something I didn’t do.
“Not your mom, your girlfriend. And forget driving today. We can go in my car.”
Too tired to argue, I grab some OJ from the fridge and a slice of dry bread and follow Summer outside. I don’t even say goodbye to Amy, because she’d be upset by the state of me.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Summer says once we’re on the road. Her cheeks are flushed, and she keeps staring ahead.
“Forget it,” I say, giving a shrug.
“Please don’t start drinking again. Whatever Tom said, it was a mistake. Things are good. You’ve changed so much this last couple of weeks, and I don’t want this to send you back to how you were before.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Summer has such a black-and-white view of everything. She thinks that, because she persuaded me everything’s gonna be okay, then it will be.
“It won’t. Promise.” I drape my arm across her back and squeeze her shoulder.
She sighs audibly then turns to face me, a smile so huge on her face that it reaches up to her eyes which are bright and shining. We don’t really talk much until we get to school; then, after parking, we go in together.
Walking down the corridor toward the lockers, you could cut the air with a knife.
“Kiddie fiddler,” I overhear a guy say as I walk past him.
I glance at Summer to see if she heard it, too.
Her eyes are wide, and her expression one of shock.
She did.
“Ignore them,” I say to Summer, taking hold of her hand to make sure she keeps moving and doesn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing that their comments are getting to us. “I’ve heard a lot worse since my dad got arrested.”
Except this is about me, and I can’t mentally distance myself from it. Unless I keep reminding myself that it’s bullshit and that I didn’t touch the boy.
“But it’s not fair. You didn’t do anything,” she says coming to an abrupt halt and clenching her fists, her face set hard.
I shove my hands into my pockets and sigh. She won’t like witnessing the abuse I’m gonna get, but at least it might finally get the message home. That this is how it’s gonna be for me.
“Yeah, well, life isn’t fair.”
And that’s the understatement of the year. I must have done something really bad in a past life to end up like this. Everything feels worse than it did when Dad was first charged, because now there’s even more at stake. My happiness with Summer.
A hollow laugh escapes my lips, and Summer flinches.
“You have to stand up to them and say it’s not true.” She places her hands on her hips and nods for emphasis.
As if that will make a difference.
“Like when my dad pleaded not guilty, you mean. Who the fuck is going to believe me?”
She runs her fingers through her hair and sighs. It’s like she thinks I’m being deliberately obtuse. But all I’m doing is telling it like it is.
“I believe you. And so do the police, or they’d have charged you.”
For such an intelligent girl, she can be very naïve. “It’s not quite that simple. It’s my word against his. They have to investigate to see if there are any witnesses to me being with Tom. Which must be why the whole school seems to know what happened, because they’ve already spoken to people. Either that or Tom has spread it.”
“Tom doesn’t seem the sort of boy to spread it,” Summer says. “Not that I’m on his side,” she adds quickly.
Summer tries to see the best in everyone and won’t believe they could do anything mean-spirited. Though trying to get someone sent to juvie is a little more than being mean-spirited.
“How do you know what sort of boy he is? If he’s prepared to lie to the police and tell them that I touched him, then he’s clearly not the boy you thought he was.”
Summer’s so easy to read, and I watch the expression on her face change as she thinks about what I’ve said.
“Yeah. You could be right. I don’t get it, because it’s so unlike him, but I can’t think of any other explanation. Unless it was someone who looked like you, and he got mixed up. But that’s hardly going to happen, as everyone knows you.”
She looks so confused that I feel guilty at making her think about it. Which is crazy, but that’s how she affects me.
“Anyway, there’s no point in subjecting ourselves to this,” I say, trying desperately to lighten the mood and take my mind off things. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s bust out of school and go somewhere for the day. I don’t have to take any more of this shit.”
Redwood Park is calling our names, and we’ll be well away from these bastards. We could even pretend for a while that nothing’s happened and that everything is how it was two days ago.
“But if we go, then what will they all think? You have to face them or it’s like admitting your guilt.”
Yeah, but
really, what does it matter if people think I’m guilty or not? My life’s fucked at this school whatever happens.
“Who cares? They’ve already made up their mind, whether I’m here to defend myself or not. As far as everyone here is concerned, I’m a pedophile like my dad, and they have the evidence to back it up, thanks to some pathetic little kid who thinks it’s funny to accuse me.”
I’d love to get hold of the little shit and shake the truth out of him. To find out why he thinks it’s so funny to wreck someone’s life.
“But I still don’t get how Tom could report you to the police for no reason. He just isn’t like that. He’s a sweet kid.” She clasps her two hands together like she’s begging me to think the best of this stupid boy. Which is fucking crazy.
“So what are you saying, that he’s telling the truth and I’m lying? Because that’s the only other option.”
“I’m not saying that. It’s just I can’t believe you’re prepared to sit back and let all this stuff happen to you without trying to do something about it. You should stay here and not go into hiding, because then they’d have won.”
“Summer, it’s not a contest. How can I get that into your head?”
“That’s not the point. I love you, Jed, but you’re letting this whole situation engulf you. There’s nothing good in that. You should fight. Let people know that you are you and not your dad.”
My jaw drops. Right in the middle of all this shit, Summer tells me she loves me. She’s never told me before. And I don’t even know if she realizes what she’s just said. Should I tell her back? I’ve wanted to for long enough. But not here, not right now with all this going on. I want it to be special.
“But…”
“No buts. If you can’t stand up for yourself, then I can’t see a future for us. I’m sorry if that makes me seem uncaring. I want you to take control of your life. Because this sort of thing could easily happen again, and you can’t let it rule your life. You have to be strong.”
Yeah, clearly it wasn’t an I love you because she wants me to respond. More like an I love you but… And now we know what the but is. She doesn’t think I’m strong enough. Which is crazy. For fuck’s sake, I’ve been strong since the day Dad got found out. If I hadn’t, what does she think would’ve happened to Amy? She’d have ended up with child services, that’s what. Because Mom’s hardly been able to look after her. Ditto on the house. If I hadn’t been strong, paying the bills, taking out the trash, and generally sorting stuff out, we’d now be sitting in the dark, surrounded by mess, starving.
No other teenager I know is dealing with the shit I’ve been dealing with. And my dad is only part of it.
I guess it would be better for me to say this to Summer, rather than just thinking it, but she should know it already.
“I thought you understood.” I shake my head, despair flooding through me.
It’s funny how your feelings can turn on a dime. Having Summer rat out on me is even worse than being falsely accused of touching that kid.
“I do. I know what you’ve been through and how much you’ve taken on board. But, a lot of the time, you’ve coped by withdrawing. That’s no good. It’s not facing up to whatever life throws at you, which is why you should listen to me.”
“What about you listening to me? Doesn’t that come into it?”
“You know it does. But that doesn’t mean you’re right.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Come on, let’s go to class.”
Just like that, eh? She’s gotta be kidding.
“Well, you stay if you want, but I’m going.” I turn and head back the way we came.
I listen, expecting to hear Summer’s footsteps behind me, except they don’t come.
Looks like it’s back to me, myself, and I.
Chapter Forty-one
I want a drink. A couple of beers won’t hurt. If anything, it might make a desperate situation more bearable. And, lucky me, there’s some left in my closet from last night. All I need to do is catch the bus home.
Summer’s made it perfectly clear she’s not gonna stand by me unless it’s on her terms. And I can’t see that happening. I get what she’s trying to do. Make me toughen up and face my problems rather than do my usual drown them in alcohol, or shut myself away. But what if I don’t want to? What if I’m not strong enough? Shit. There it is, the strong word. Just what Summer said and I refuted.
Does that mean she’s right?
I don’t know. And at the moment, I’ve no inclination to think about it. I have more important things on my mind.
Beer.
…
Traffic’s good, and I’m soon home. I try not to make any noise walking through the garage so as not to alert Mom that I’m back. Though I don’t suppose she’ll care whether I’m at school or not. I peer into the kitchen and see the coast is clear, so I head through and out into the hall.
“What are you doing home? Is everything okay?” Mom asks.
I stare at her, wondering if I’ve heard right. I can’t remember the last time Mom actually started a conversation with me that wasn’t about something she wanted me to do. Like collecting Amy or shopping.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had enough of school,” I say, my voice breaking slightly.
Which I know is pathetic, but it’s impossible to put into words how potentially huge this could be.
“You got the message then. About the police wanting to speak to you. Do they want you to see him again?”
Shit. She doesn’t know. I can’t tell her; she won’t be able to cope. The fact she’s actually talking to me is more than enough right now, and no way am I jeopardizing that.
“They just wanted to go over some of what he said to me at that last visit. To see if there’s anything they can use.”
I keep my eyes lowered, in case she realizes I’m lying. Which she’s always been able to do in the past. We used to laugh about how it was a particular talent of hers. However ingenious the lie was, somehow, she’d always know.
Except Dad totally blew that theory.
“Oh,” she says and goes to turn away then stops. She stares at me as if she wants to say something, then seems to change her mind and carries on walking.
I then remember why I’m here. To drown out what happened today. Except, suddenly, I’m not so keen on doing that. I want to see Summer.
And there’s a voice in the back of my head telling me I should not only see Summer but should do as she suggests and deal with everything head-on.
Maybe I should go back to school now and face everyone. Let them see that I won’t be intimated by their abuse. It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong and I’m damn tired of feeling like I have.
Chapter Forty-two
Taking a deep, calming breath, I push open the double doors and stride into school. The corridor is empty, because afternoon classes have already started, which is just as I’d planned. We’ve got science in the lab for the rest of the day, so I should be able to sneak in without the teacher seeing. And even though I’ll be seen by others in my class, they’ll find it hard to bombard me with insults. Which gives me time to settle.
Heading toward my locker to get my books, I notice Foster in the distance, standing beside his, which is two down from mine.
Shit.
How does that guy always manage to be where he’s not wanted?
“You’re risking it,” he snarls as I get up close. “Coming back here after yesterday. I’m gonna make sure you get kicked out of school for good. So you might as well fuck off now.”
I’m not gonna react. It’s what he wants. He’s just an attention-seeking dick, and I won’t enable him. So, not even looking in his direction, I open my locker to get out my science books.
“Are you deaf, perv? Get out. Leave. You’re finished here. If not for fighting with me, for messing with Tom.”
My stomach plummets to the ground, and my body tenses, but I don’t give in to it. No way will he see anything other than a calm and controlled exter
ior from me, or he’d have won. And that’s not gonna happen.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Foster says, a vicious edge to his voice. “You think you’re smart, but you’re not. And now you’re heading for juvie, thanks to Tom.” He pauses. “With a little help from me.”
I turn to see a smug expression crossing his face, and it takes all my resolve not to smack it off.
And what the fuck does he mean help from me? What’s he got to do with it?
Unless.
Nah.
Even Foster wouldn’t stoop that low.
Or would he?
“Explain,” I say, moving away from my locker and positioning myself so there’s less than two feet between us. “Now.”
Foster takes a step backward, fear in his eyes. “Nothing,” he says, the bravado from a moment ago long gone.
“If it’s nothing, then why say it?” Foster glances from side to side and suddenly ducks and tries to make a run for it. Except he’s not quick enough, and I lean across and block his way by putting my arm out with my hand on the locker behind him. “I. Said. Now.” My voice is calm and controlled and, judging by his expression, it’s more effective than when I lose it. Summer would be proud of me.
“Franklin. Foster. Why aren’t you in class?” The principal yells from down the corridor.
Shit. More trouble. Just what I don’t need.
I release Foster. “Just on the way, sir,” I say.
Foster saunters off, and when he’s far enough away so I’m unable to grab him again, he turns. “Enjoy your last class ever, you fucking perv.” He laughs and runs down the corridor in the direction of the lab. I follow, forcing myself to calm down. I need to be thinking rationally if I’m to sort this out.
Reaching the lab, I open the door and scan the room. I see Summer alone at a bench in the corner. We’re supposed to be working on an assignment together, so I head straight for her, keeping my eyes forward and not making eye contact with anyone else. I can’t help but hear the comments as I pass people, but I try not to let them affect me.
“You’re back,” Summer says.
She smiles, and her whole face lights up. I guess I’m forgiven for walking out on her.