And that was that.
It was all Sam could do not to throw her arms around the other woman and cling. Without the pressure of pretending today wasn’t terrifying her, Sam’s agitation was dissolving into the kind of calm that always seemed to surround Mallory.
“When I’m inside any building, especially a school or anywhere with a lot of people, it’s all still there,” Sam said. “I’m hearing the sounds and the feel and even the smells of that day, a split second before the first plane hit its tower, and then the second one. The other teachers and I were watching it all on TV by then, while our assistants monitored our classes. So many of our kids’ parents worked in the towers just down the street and commuted with them back and forth every day, and we couldn’t do anything but watch and listen and wonder how we were going to get our students through it. If any of us made it through at all. No one knew what would happen next, and at first the authorities wanted everyone to stay in their buildings, rather than being outdoors in the chaos on the street.”
“Are the panic attacks about still not knowing whether you’re going to make it through?” Mallory asked, zeroing straight to the meat of things, as usual.
“Maybe I’ll never be able to go back to the way I was before,” Sam answered, without really answering. Because she never knew what would cause the next attack, not really. Walking into a school. A plane flying over her house.
“Before 9/11 happened?”
Sam shrugged. She and Brian had spent a fortune on her therapy the first few years after the attack. And for what?
“It’s like they’re gone,” she said, “all the things that I loved before that day. All the things I thought I’d always have. My social life and the friends Brian and I had in Manhattan. My dreams of what having kids would be like for us. Teaching, and where I wanted to go with my career. Hobbies I wanted to take up, anything besides cooking for my family and fussing with my yard. It’s all changed. All of it’s been gone for so long. Everyone else is so sure I can get that life back, but…”
“Everyone?”
“Brian. The doctors I’ve talked with. The boys. Julia.”
“But not you? You don’t think you can go back?”
Did she?
Did Sam even know, after all this time, who she wanted to be—besides better, somehow?
Sam wiped both hands across her face and ran her fingers through her bangs. “We’ll see.”
Longing to be home, in the park, in her garden, or in those few stolen moments at breakfast when her boys and husband had been so relaxed with her, she lugged her purse to the bathroom, flipped on the light over the sink, and began touching up her makeup.
A brush of powder.
A sweep of lip gloss.
Some concealer carefully applied to mask the dark slashes beneath both eyes.
“Mask complete?” Mallory asked as Sam rejoined her.
The bell rang before Sam could answer.
“Bus call.” Her friend opened the door and lifted Sam’s overflowing brownie tray. “You’re going to get through this, you know. It doesn’t have to be pretty. Just get through lunch any way you have to, and you’ve won. Now, let me drop these and you by the cafeteria on my way outside to help with the kids.”
Mallory’s gaze had softened with worry, but her voice was rock solid. There was no pretending. No strained laughter, the way Sam’s family dealt with everything. There were none of Julia’s forced smiles. But Mallory was just as firmly in Sam’s corner. It was an amazing blessing.
“Let’s do this.” Sam stepped into the hallway, the walls not feeling quite so close this time. The second bell hurried them along. There was a ton of setup to do in the cafeteria. And whether things turned ugly or not, she wanted to be part of all of it. For Cade and Joshua, because they deserved to see their mother healthy for a change. For Brian, because he deserved better than pouring optimism down everyone’s throats while he sacrificed so much of his life to pick up the pieces when she crumbled. And for herself, because she deserved not to be a burden to everyone who cared about her.
“Leave him alone!” Cade grabbed at smelly Bubba Dickerson. He pulled the bully away from Troy Wilmington.
Bubba stumbled. He tripped over his backpack and landed on his butt. The other boys who’d gotten off the bus with them laughed. Bubba made it to his feet, his belly hanging over the top of his pants, his fists balled up to hit somebody.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he yelled at Cade and Troy.
Troy pushed his glasses higher on his nose and stood taller. Except he was standing behind Cade.
“Pay for what?” Troy sounded so scared, he might wet his pants. “For you being so clumsy you can’t keep your stupid butt off the sidewalk? I’d pay a week’s allowance to see that happen again.”
Bubba had been pushing Troy around the whole ride from Mimosa Lane. The whole school year. No one stopped him—not even the teachers, who had to hear some of the mean things he said. Only it hadn’t gotten so bad that any of the adults really paid attention. Not yet. Except it really was bad—at least for Troy.
Cade and Troy talked a lot more than anyone knew. The other kids thought Cade was way cooler than skinny, pimply Troy. And it was better for Cade if no one made a big deal about him still hanging out with the wimpy kid he’d shared Twinkies with in preschool.
Sometimes it was like he was the only person Troy had to talk to. And Troy had been weirder than ever since Christmas, acting out in class and pissing the other kids off more and crying a lot when he and Cade were alone. Cade felt bad for him. When Troy had mouthed off to Bubba as they’d gotten off the bus, and Bubba had gotten angry, Cade had shoved the bully away, hoping Bubba wouldn’t do something stupid like pushing back now that they were at school.
Not that hoping always worked out the way you wanted it to. Because now Bubba was shoving his way through the other kids, and everyone was laughing at what Troy had said. So far the teachers hadn’t noticed. But that wouldn’t last.
“Where’s your money, you little shit?” Bubba snarled at Troy, his face all sweaty and red even though it was cold out. “’Cause I’ll take that bet. Give me what you got. Or do I have to waste my time smacking you around for it? I can take it from you here, and you can cry like a girl. Or I can take it at lunch, and you can cry like a girl in front of the whole sixth grade.”
When everyone laughed at Troy this time, Bubba puffed up like he was something big, when almost every day someone pushed Troy around at lunch. He was an easy target. He was a card-carrying dork, now that they were almost in junior high. Clumsy. Too shortsighted for sports without his glasses. And too easy to make cry. He never stood up to anyone.
Sure enough, he was about to cry now. But Troy stepped around Cade and stared Bubba down anyway, holding his backpack in front of him like that would protect him.
“My dad said not to let you take any more of my money, no matter what I have to do. Don’t think I won’t stop you this time.”
Bubba towered over Troy. He was the tallest boy in their grade. He smiled when Troy gulped and shrank back. But when he didn’t run like he always had before, Bubba stopped smiling. He pushed Troy toward Cade.
“You tellin’ me you’re not afraid of me anymore?” he bellowed.
“No.” Troy pushed Bubba back for the first time Cade could remember, not that Bubba moved much. “I’m telling you that I’m more afraid of my dad than I’ll ever be of you.”
No one laughed this time.
They’d all seen Mr. Wilmington treat Troy like a loser. None of them wanted a guy like that for a dad. He seemed to enjoy it, making Troy feel like nothing, especially in front of the football team a few years back, before Troy had stopped playing. Having a dad who called you a sissy all the time because you couldn’t keep up with the other boys must suck.
“Not afraid of me, huh?” Bubba swung one of his meaty fists.
Nate Turner grabbed the goon’s arm before he made contact.
“Get off me!” B
ubba rounded on Nate. But he was outmatched and he knew it.
Nate was almost as big as Bubba, and he was the best linebacker on the Chandlerville Chargers football team. With his muscles, he could beat blubbery Bubba to a pulp, and Nate wouldn’t even be breathing hard. And unlike Troy, Nate wasn’t afraid of anyone.
“Leave him alone,” Nate said. “And stop being such an asshole at bus call. You’re going to get us all in trouble. Ms. Hemmings is coming.”
The assistant principal really was on her way over. She had a nose for trouble. She always knew what a kid had to hide, just when he was praying he wouldn’t get caught. But Nate’s glance to Cade said that Ms. Hemmings wasn’t the only reason Nate had gotten in the middle of Bubba and Troy’s fight.
Nate and Cade talked a lot, too. Everyone knew they were best friends. They talked about everything. Nate was the one kid Cade felt like he could say anything to. They talked about their families, when they were at Nate’s house and his parents were gone somewhere making all their killer money, and Cade needed to get out of his own place, where he couldn’t think or feel or say anything that might worry his mom. And they talked about Troy, and how they were glad neither of them had Mr. Wilmington as a dad.
Nate’s parents were so busy they didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t get into too much trouble, and Cade’s family was definitely warped, too. But they’d agreed that they had it great compared to Troy. So they kept standing up for him with kids like Bubba, even when Troy was being a jerk like today and blowing his chance to back down.
“You just wait until lunch.” Bubba’s smile made his threat extra ugly. He included Nate and Cade in his sneer. “You’ll get yours, you stupid dorks.”
“I’ll be waiting, asshole,” Troy said.
But Bubba was already stomping away, several boys following and patting him on the back for being so cool.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Turner?” Ms. Hemmings asked. She called them all by their last names, like they were going to the prep school on the other side of Chandlerville or something.
“No, ma’am,” Nate answered.
Cade shoved his shoulder into Troy’s, warning the kid to be cool.
“No, ma’am,” they said together.
The AP stared down from what was like a mile above them. She was the tallest woman Cade had ever seen. All the boys were secretly dying to see her play basketball. They’d heard from someone on the staff that she’d been an all-conference MVP wherever she played in college. And even though she was tough and talked weird sometimes, she was nice to all the kids and had made some cool changes at the school since she came there when Cade was in third grade.
“I suggest you find your way to your homerooms,” she said, “before a problem that I don’t need to be dealing with this morning comes and finds you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cade grabbed the sleeve of Troy’s winter jacket and hauled him away.
What was up with him today? Taking Bubba on was suicide. Did the kid have a death wish? Nate followed them. They stumbled into the bathroom across from the cafeteria.
“Leave me alone!” Troy yanked away.
He crashed into one of the stall doors and almost fell into the toilet. He was holding his backpack still, like he’d never let it go. Like Joshie had held his favorite stuffed animal when he was little.
“You mean,” Nate asked, “like we should have left you alone outside? So you coulda kept on riling Bubba until he stomped you into little bits? The guy’s twice your size. Stay away from him at lunch.”
“No. I’m going to make him stop. My dad said if I didn’t he’d…”
“He’d what?” Cade asked. “What does your dad have to do with this?”
“Everything! I have to make Bubba stop picking on me.”
“Because your jerk of a dad says so?”
“Because if I don’t, my dad won’t stop.”
“Won’t stop what?” Nate looked as confused as Cade.
“Hitting me, okay?! When he hears about me taking Bubba’s crap, he says he’s going to show me how to toughen up, and then he…”
Troy’s face twisted in an ugly way, like he was as shocked as Cade and Nate by what he’d just said.
“He hits you how?” Cade asked, but Troy just shook his head, looking like he was going to puke.
“How bad does he hit you, man?” Nate asked. “What does he think you can do about Bubba Dickerson? Your dad doesn’t know what’s going on. If he did—”
“He doesn’t care!” Troy screamed. He was crying and shaking, spit flying out with every word. “He doesn’t care if I get punched out. He told me that if I didn’t stand up to Bubba today, I’d have to answer to him when he gets home from work. The more Bubba beats on me the better. Then my dad’ll believe that I wasn’t a sissy this time.”
Cade stared at his friend, not wanting to believe it but knowing it was true.
“Then tell your mom,” he said, thinking about his own parents and how they never did or thought or decided anything without talking to each other first. And they’d never, ever come close to hitting him or Joshua. “Tell her about Bubba, and get her to make your Dad stop, and then—”
“She can’t do anything about it,” Troy said, still crying. “She’s afraid of him. She can’t do nothin’.”
“Because he hits her, too?” Nate asked. Now he was the one who sounded like he was going to cry. “That’s just wrong, man. Why don’t you tell somebody?”
“We don’t tell anybody.” Troy was quieter as he said that, like he hadn’t just totally lost it, and they were talking about how much they hated their math homework or something stupid like that. “Mom says telling people will make things worse.”
“You don’t have to take a beating to make your dad leave you alone.” Cade wanted to help somehow. Someone had to help. “Just tell one of the teachers about Bubba, and—”
“Don’t you think I have?” Troy was being too loud again. Someone was going to hear them. “I told Mrs. Baxter on Friday.” He and Nate and Cade were all in Mrs. Baxter’s homeroom. “And what did she do? She called my parents and Bubba’s parents. Bubba probably got a pat on the back. He and his dad probably went out in the woods over the weekend and shot something together, to celebrate how cool he is. My dad beat me with his belt this time, and he said I’d get more tonight if I didn’t keep my mouth shout and take care of this and stop making it his problem because I’m too much of a sissy. I’m not a baby. He’ll see. I’m not going home until Bubba’s so afraid of me, he’ll never bother me again. And he will be!”
Troy was totally freaked out, his voice bouncing off the bathroom’s pasty-white walls. Cade shivered, thinking about how it would feel if his own dad were to hit him… with a belt. It made him feel like he was going to throw up.
“Why would Bubba Dickerson ever be afraid of you?” Nate’s eyes squinted while he stared at Troy.
Troy edged around them toward the door. The warning bell rang. They were going to be late for homeroom. But something made Cade grab Troy’s arm before he could get away.
“You can’t take him on, man, no matter what your dad said.” Cade had seen his mom like this, when she’d felt trapped somewhere, like she was afraid she’d never be able to get out. Only no one else was afraid at all. When she was that scared, she’d do anything to get away, and that made him scared for Troy now. “Bubba’s never going to be afraid of you. You’re gonna get hurt.”
Troy’s shoulders slumped. He wiped his jacket sleeve across his wet face and the snot trailing from his nose. Then he smiled like Bubba, mean and awful. He started laughing in a really messed up way.
“You’ll see, you stupid babies.” Troy sneered as if he hated Cade and Nate as much as he did his dad and Bubba. “You’ll see!”
He raced into the hallway. Cade and Nate ran after him. The late bell rang. They were officially tardy, with no excuse to give Mrs. Baxter without ratting out Troy.
“I don’t care what kind of trouble he thinks h
e’ll get into at home,” Nate said. “We should tell somebody.”
Cade glanced into the cafeteria. His mom and Ms. Hemmings were talking. His mom had actually made it to school. He stopped running, and Nate stumbled into him.
“What?” Nate asked.
Cade could only stare and point.
There she was, acting normal like all the other moms, instead of hiding at home so Cade couldn’t go a day without some adult asking him how she was doing, or another kid thinking it was weird that she never showed for any sports events or neighborhood stuff. She laughed at something Ms. Hemmings said. It wasn’t a real laugh. He could tell. It was a fake laugh like this morning, that meant she was nervous.
But she was there, when he’d bet Nate yesterday that she’d back out like all the other times she’d tried to do something like this.
“See?” his friend said. “Told you so.”
Cade nodded. Then Ms. Hemmings looked their way, and he and Nate ducked behind the cafeteria door.
He should tell his mom—about everything. She’d know how to help Troy, at school and with Mr. Wilmington. And Ms. Hemmings was right there, too. They’d both know what to do.
“Do you think we should—” Nate started to ask.
“No,” Cade cut him off, understanding a little why Troy had sounded so freaked when he’d talked about the stuff going on at home. “I don’t want to tell anyone but you about my family, either. And…”
“And you don’t want to mess things up for your mom today.”
Three Days on Mimosa Lane (A Seasons of the Heart Novel) Page 3