On the front of the jacket is the name “Katsumoto” on one side and “U.S. Army” on the other. It seems extra sick to me that he had his own name put on the jacket. I wad the thing up and stuff it in my backpack.
When I get to the Inn, Kailie's father is standing by the back door, talking to someone I assume is a guest. The guy throws his head back, laughing hard at whatever Mr. Beale just said. That's the thing about him. When he wants to be charming, Mr. Beale can be the life of the party.
Inside the Beales' house, things are more somber. Kailie answers the door and the lights in the front room are off. The furniture isn't stacked against the wall anymore, but part of the flooring's been ripped up.
“Hey,” she says. “Exciting afternoon?”
I follow her in and up the stairs. “You have no idea.”
We cross the landing to her room, where I stop as if I've hit a wall of glass. All of her furniture is gone. There's just a little pile of blankets in the corner and the area rug.
“Yeah,” she says. “My dad says that if I want to behave like a delinquent, he'll treat me like one.”
“What did you do?”
“I yelled back at him last night. He was all threatening me.” She mimes someone standing over her with a fist raised. “He was sure the guests heard me shout, so he and Mom took my furniture and stacked it in the guest room.” She steps into her room, does a slow pirouette with her shoulders shrugged as if to say, “whatever”. “So you're okay? Alex didn't charge the library?”
“No, Officer Li subdued him with his gun before that happened.”
“No way. I-” The sound of a car going past on the street outside catches her attention and she goes over to the open window. “Come look,” she says.
I wonder why her window is open in the middle of winter, but don't ask. Instead, I go to join her. A white van heads along Ridge Road, past all the little restaurants and shops, and turns the corner. For a moment we lose sight of it, but then it reappears along the bluffs.
“Wow, I was kind of kidding. Maybe it really is them,” says Kailie.
“Really is who?”
“The psychiatric hospital people. Alex's mom is gonna be committed.”
“So that is why he trashed Officer Li's car?”
“Guess so.”
“How did you know about his mother?”
“My dad heard it, I dunno from whom.” She shrugs. “How much do you wanna bet Alex comes to school armed?”
“Do not joke about that. It's not funny.”
“Is it a joke? The guy's got a mentally unstable mother and attacked a police car.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, maybe we shouldn't go to school Monday.”
“Maybe we should all ditch,” says Kailie. “But my father would, I dunno... confiscate my clothes? Send me to school in my underwear? Never goes real well when I dream of that happening.”
“Do you really think Alex would do something drastic?” As soon as the words are out, though, I hear how dumb they sound. Of course he would. This is Alex.
Kailie leans against the wall and stares at the white van, which is now making its way back. “He's the perfect stereotype, you know? Alone all the time, never talks, plays with his lighter, no sense of humor.”
I disagree with that last part. He does have a sense of humor, albeit a warped one. It's not worth voicing my disagreement aloud, because it's only over a technicality.
“And the military jacket,” she says. “It's classic. You know, I get how these situations happen. We can all see this coming a mile away, but what is anyone doing about it? They could expel him, but that might just push him over the edge.” She shudders. “They need to lock him up.”
The door downstairs slams. “Hang on,” Kailie says, “I gotta put my phone back in my parents' room before they find I have it.”
I wince. Her parents look in her logs and they're going to see that she texted me, unless she deleted it. She's smart enough to remember to delete it, I reason. I watch the white van drive past the house. It's impossible to know whether it really is from the psychiatric hospital. I glance at my backpack, where I've stuffed Alex's jacket.
Kailie slips back into her room. “Okay, so, anyway,” she says, “want to... uh... sit on my floor?”
I smile and plop down in the middle of the room. “So, other than our schoolmate having a psychotic break, what's new in your world?”
“I want to know what happened with Jean-Pierre.” She sits down across from me.
“That's kind of embarrassing. My brother showed up and tried to defend my honor.”
“Spill.”
“It was bad.”
“Well, so what now?”
“I don't know. I think I may want to go back to being the dateless nobody.”
“I'm with you on that. Let's both be nobodies.”
“You aren't qualified.”
Kailie flips her hair back over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. “I can try, all right? No judging here.”
“Kailie Lynn!” shouts her mother. “Dinner in fifteen.”
“That's my cue to leave.”
“I'll see you tomorrow.”
That night there's a tap on my window. I hesitate, the note in my locker today means I know it's JP. Do I want to let him in? I'm fully dressed. The truth is, I've waited up, changed into my skinny jeans, and reapplied my makeup. I remember Kailie's advice, that if I want to make out with him, I should just do it. If being in a relationship is not an option, it's not. Would I prefer to not make out with him?
The tap comes again and I reach up to flip the latch open.
JP gets all the way up onto the windowsill and jumps over my bed to the floor, then pulls the window shut, leaning over me. “Listen, I'm sorry I picked a fight with your brother.”
“Don't be. He was being a jerk.”
“Well... yeah, he was.” He pulls off his shoes, takes off his jacket, and I stay seated on my bed, not sure I even want him here.
He sits down next to me.
“Everything all right?” he says.
“We didn't really finish our conversation yesterday.”
“Well, I don't have anything to add.” He looks me straight in the eye.
And I feel pudgy and plain. Why's he even here, looking at me like I'm pretty? I drop my gaze and before I can react, he leans in and gives me a long kiss that makes spots swim in my vision. He even tilts his head so as not to touch my bruised nose. Taking my hand in his, he places it on his chest, where I can feel his heart beating fast.
He kisses me again and strokes his hands down my back. “You want me to give you a massage this time?”
I shake my head.
“Okay, listen, we won't do anything you don't want. But just being honest here, you are so hot.”
I know this is a lie, but it's a kind one. This time, when he kisses me, I let myself kiss back.
True to his word, he doesn't force anything, he just kisses and caresses me with such passion that I'm intoxicated by the feeling that someone like him wants me this much. We're both careful about my swollen nose and don't kiss on the lips as much as before.
In his arms, with his mouth pressed hungrily to my skin, I start to believe I'm beautiful, that my body is desirable. The thought of letting go with him is both terrifying and fascinating. I sense how he reacts to me running my hands over his back and he really wants to take his shirt off so that I touch his skin. I've got a power here that I never knew I had.
I shut my eyes and just let myself be in this moment. School, Mom, my brother, all my stress dissolves under JP's touch. I forget that my face is black and blue.
We don't use the condoms tonight, but at the rate things go, it's just a matter of time. Even after we cool down from kissing, he lays next to me and runs his hands over me, fitting them to my curves.
“You've got such a great body,” he tells me.
“I'm kinda fat.”
“You’re not that bad, really.”
I know I
should argue, but I don't. We share a smile instead, and after he leaves, I feel both better and worse. He does like me, I think to myself. He does think I'm pretty. Underneath all that, though, is the creeping sense that he's using me. Stopping by because I make him feel good about himself.
The following day, there's another email from John.
Hi Madison,
Okay, took me a while to get pictures, but now I have them. Like I said, you've got three brothers, me, and then Lance and Logan are identical twins who just turned twenty-three. Lance is married to a woman named Cynthia whom I don't know very well yet. They got married while I was on my mission. Logan is a senior at UVU, where he's getting a teaching degree.
As for our dad, I don't have any pictures of him handy. I know this is awful of me, but we do not get along. I need to forgive him, and I'm working on that. I don't understand why he could let you go and would never help me look for you. If things didn't work out with him and Mom, fine, they're adults, but I never understood how he could know you were out there and not want to know how you are. Even if you weren't his, that wouldn't be your fault. I didn't even go see him when I got home from my mission. I haven't told him I found you.
I'm working for a cellphone company for the rest of this year and I'll start again at BYU in the fall. I'm not sure what major I want to have. I'm really into psych but I also love fine art. I'm a photographer and a sculptor. Mom's genes, I guess. Psych is probably the more sensible major.
And that's the family. Anything else you want to know, just ask.
Love always,
John
Attached is a picture of a guy with white blond hair, like mine, holding a pretty redhead in his arms. Her engagement ring is on prominent display, so my guess is that this picture went with a wedding invitation. They both look so young.
The other picture is of the same guy, only upon closer examination I realize it is not the same guy. This guy's got a mole on his left temple, rather than his right, and he's a little bit heavier. Given he isn't pictured with a woman, I assume this one's Logan.
They both look a lot like me. Same coloring. It's so weird.
“Are men sending you pictures now?” says Siraj.
My face flushes with shame. “These are more brothers,” I say, defensively.
“Ah. All right. I'll stop teasing you. Listen, I may be a few minutes late to work on Saturday, so can you handle things here if I am?”
“Yeah, I think I can prevent any raves or drunken orgies.”
“Really? They have those in American high schools? Your life is exciting.”
“I guess so.”
I can sense he knows something's not quite right because he peers at me over his glasses. “Your nose is healing up very nice. The bruise is fading.”
“Still sore.”
“I would imagine so, yes. No more cage fighting for you. That is what I've been telling people. It makes me rebellious by association. They say, 'Do you have a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey?' and I say, 'She's a cage fighter, you know. You should have seen the other guy.'”
“I'll have to remember that one.”
“Did your brother do something to upset you? In that email or yesterday?”
“He's fine.”
“All right. I won't pry, then.”
I turn back to the computer and click open the reply box to his email.
Dear John,
Thanks for the pictures. I really appreciate it. Hope you had a safe trip home.
Madison
Five minutes later there's a reply.
Hi Madison,
Any time, and if you ever need anything, let me know. I'll try to find some more pictures of our grandparents and people like that. Can you send me a picture of you? I’m still trying to think of the best way to break this to Lance and Logan. We talk, but they’re way closer to Dad than I am, so we don’t talk often. It feels wrong to hide you, so I’m still figuring all that out. When I do tell them, I want them to be able to see your beautiful face.
Love you,
John
John,
You really don't need to do the flattery stuff, okay? Here's a link to my Picasa album of pics from a camping trip I went on with my friend Kailie and some of her cousins.
Madison
Hi Madison,
It's not flattery. It's the truth. You're gorgeous, and now I have the pictures to prove it.
Love,
John
I click open a chat window.
Madison: Just stop it, okay.
John: Stop what?
Madison: All the stupid stuff about me being beautiful. I'm tired of it.
John: I didn't mean to offend you. What's wrong with me saying you're pretty?
Madison: It's a lie.
John: It is not a lie. Why would you say that?
Madison: I'm fat. I'm pasty.
John: You are not fat, and you're pale, not pasty. Fair skin, blue eyes, flawless complexion. You're stunning.
Madison: STOP IT, okay?
John: Whoa. What's wrong, Sis?
Madison: I'm tired of guys just saying what they think I want to hear.
John: Look, I may not be the most intuitive person, but I can tell this is not what you want to hear. It clearly makes you mad. I'm still going to say it because it is the actual truth.
Madison: Would you tell me if I was ugly?
John: I would never call my own sister ugly, but I wouldn't lie to you. Listen, you want to call me later? Clearly I've upset you.
Madison: I don't know.
John: Up to you, but you've got my number.
“Dare I ask,” says Siraj, “what has you pounding the keyboard so hard?”
“Would you ever tell your sister if she was ugly?”
He blinks a few times. “Two of my littlest sisters have Down's Syndrome. I helped take care of them because our mother died when they were just babies. Other people don't see how beautiful they are. They got teased a lot.”
“But did you tell them they're beautiful?”
“They are beautiful. I don't care what anyone else says. They are.”
“Would you send them to an audition to become supermodels?”
“That's entirely beside the point.”
And I sense, from his quiet, determined tone, that for him it really is beside the point. “Sorry to get all personal, there,” I say.
“It's quite all right.”
Madison: Okay, fine. I guess it's just a brother thing.
John: We brothers see the truth so much more clearly than anyone else.
Madison: Right. Anyway. I have work.
John: Okay. Talk to you later. Love you.
I stare at those words for a minute.
Madison: Bye.
John: Bye!
Monday morning, when Kailie and I step onto campus, Carson beckons me over to where he stands, by the MAV.
“Something going on with Carson?” asks Kailie.
“I don't know. I mean... he said he's interested in me and-”
“You are such a liar.” She turns on her heel and stalks away in the direction of the school.
I look after her, puzzled, and Carson waves to me in my peripheral vision once again. Since I'm not a big fan of being summoned, I let myself scowl as I head over to him. “Yeah?”
The rest of the Mormon herd is still piling out of the MAV through the sliding door, which is on the far side. I hear five sets of shoes hit the pavement, and the door slide shut.
“Just wanted to see how you were.”
“And now you've seen.”
“Listen, rumor has it you're back with Jean-Pierre.”
“Well, I don't listen to rumors.”
“I hope it's not true.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“Promise me something? That the next guy who kisses you will be your boyfriend? He'll acknowledge you in public?”
“Yeah, sure, I promise.” Anything, I think, to end this conversation. Why is he back
to bossing me around?
“Why do you have to be so short with me?”
“You are still telling me what to do.”
“Well, I didn't mean it that way. Give me a chance. Take a break from the selfish, cruel people you surround yourself with all the time and go out with me. One date.”
“Insulting my friends isn't the way to get on my good side.”
“Okay, well I didn't mean it that way either.”
But I've had enough. I turn away, head across the parking lot, and step between two large utility vans that are parked right in front of the school. Someone taps me on the shoulder, and when I turn, whoever it is plants his mouth on mine.
A million thoughts flit through my mind as this mystery person kisses me. It's not a passionate kiss; it's an obnoxious one, the person sucking on my mouth in a really annoying way. I squirm and the person lets me go.
Shattered Castles 1 : Castles on the Sand Page 8