Count On Me

by Melyssa Winchester

  She’s gonna fall for it because she truly believes that if something were the matter, I would bring it to her.

  “Okay well, I’ll finish up in here and start making dinner. I was thinking Irish stew tonight, that sound okay?”

  “Yeah, sounds fine.” I say backing out of the kitchen and going in search of the artwork a certain little brother promised me. As long as I keep myself focused on that, then the events of earlier and more importantly, the ones that happened with Kayden can finally leave my mind once and for all.

  Kayden

  The minute I step through the door I can tell what kind of night it’s going to be and it puts me even more on edge.

  Littered all over the room are beer cans, some of them crushed to bits, others tipped over and laying in place. There’s an assortment of liquor bottles placed on the bar, looking more drained than they did this morning before I left. The worst part is, the person passed out on the floor in the middle of it.

  Dean Walker, my brother. The man that’s well on his way to earning the proud title of town drunk. Sadly, this is a scene I’ve come home to more than once and nothing good ever comes of it.

  I have to admit lately, Dean’s been doing better, if there is a better for my brother. He managed to land himself a full time job, even cleaning up his act for it, which if you know Dean, is a big thing. For the first time since our mom split, I started to believe things would even out again. That instead of coming home to a passed out drunk brother, I’d come home to a real house, with someone who actually gave a shit.

  It’s not that I don’t think Dean cares because I know somewhere underneath all the mess, he does. All of this shit is just what happens when you’re twenty-five and get left to raise your kid brother alone, but is it so wrong that just once I’d like to come home to a clean house? To have a brother that’s awake and smiling instead of passed out or angry?

  I’m gonna have to wake him up, but I really don’t want to. That’s how it always starts. I wake him up, try to sober him up by tossing him in the shower and getting him something to eat, but instead of being thankful, he starts to tell me what a piece of shit I am. It doesn’t take long after that for the beating to start, but that’s not all Dean. He usually pisses me off so bad that I push back, just not with words.

  Yeah, I definitely don’t wanna wake him up right now.

  I figure the reason he’s home now, instead of at work the way he has been, is because he lost his job and I definitely don’t want to be on the receiving end of the rage he’s got over that.

  Leaving him in the mess he created, I head down the hall, closing his door as I pass on the way to my own. It’s a rule that his door is supposed to be shut all the time, so if he wakes up and sees that in his drunken haze he left it open, I’m the one that’s gonna pay for it.

  I push my way into my room and don’t even bother shutting the door behind me. I don’t have the same rule, so right now, all I wanna do is lie down and get the stench of this stupid day off of me and out of my head.

  Problem is, I can’t do it. Even walking in and finding my brother passed out in his own filth isn’t enough to get her and what happened out of my head. So what do I do? I pull the damn paper out of my pocket, unfold it and start reading.

  There scrawled across the pages are her words to me, answers to my questions, but even more than that, jokes and things that still make me smile. Standing out like neon lights, are the happy faces and even though I turned on her, treating her like shit before kicking her out of my car, I’m still smiling every time I see one of them on the page.

  Those happy faces remind me of the way things used to be and despite not wanting to focus on the past because of everything that happened with my mom, I can’t help it. It’s not my mom I remember though. It’s her.

  She used to talk to me when I was over at her house. It wasn’t much because her mom said she was a little slower than me with her speech, but the words she did say, I always understood. I actually remember the first time she spoke to me and the way her voice sounded. It had taken so long for it to happen that I actually believed back then that she didn’t have a voice at all.

  Guess I know where all the deaf mute comments came from.

  Dean told me things about her before, but I can’t remember much of it now, other than that she’s got some issues. I want to go back out there, wake him up and ask him about it, but his rage kills that idea quick. He’s the only one I can ask though, so maybe when he screws his head on straight and lays off the booze, I’ll bring it up.

  My phone vibrates, so I stretch out across my bed in an effort to get it out. There’s this part of me that hopes it’s her so I can try and fix what I did, but I know it won’t be. She doesn’t have my number and even if she did, I’m pretty damn sure I’d be the last person she’d want to talk to. As I look at the screen, I see it’s Amy.

  Have a nice time with your girlfriend? I bet the smell was a real turn on huh?

  Tossing my phone across the room after reading the words, it smashes up against the wall and I hear sounds from the front room, which means Dean’s up and moving. It’s always easy to tell when he wakes up because it sounds like a herd of cattle moving through the house. How one person can make that much noise is beyond me, but it’s Dean, so of course I don’t get it.

  It doesn’t take long for him to stumble down the hall and appear in the doorway. As I watch, he leans his body on the door in an attempt to stay steady, a snide looking smile on his face.

  “I got a funny call earlier about your dumb ass.”

  Indulging Dean when he’s like this is never a good idea, but since I’ve already managed to screw my entire day up just in the span of a couple hours, I go for broke. If he wants a fight then I’m more than willing to give it to him.

  “Oh yeah, what did I do this time?”

  “Word is you fucked up Dillon’s face pretty bad and that it was because of the freak across the street.”

  “Don’t call her that.” I seethe, not understanding where the sudden urge to protect her comes from, but running with it. “She’s not a freak. She’s just got issues, something I figure you both got in common.”

  “What are you trying to say boy? That me and that crazy bitch are the same?”

  “She’s not a crazy bitch. You’re the one that told me that remember?”

  “I don’t like your tone.”

  “Well I don’t like that you smell like a brewery, so I guess we’re even.”

  He stumbles across the room and the thing is, I could easily have cut him off at the pass considering how utterly wasted he is, but I don’t do it. I want him to hit me, in fact I want him to do to me what I did to Dillon a couple hours ago.

  He grabs me and it’s not long before I’m back up on my feet and being tossed across the room. That’s another thing about my brother. It seems that while the liquor makes him unsteady, it also gives him superhuman strength.

  I feel the pain shoot through me the minute my body crashes into the wall. It’s almost like a script with us. The location is the only thing that changes. I should be thankful he’s doing it in here instead of out where all the bottles and cans are, but I’m really finding it hard to care about much right now. I just want it over with.

  “You’re a disrespectful son of a bitch, you know that, Kayden? I fucking bust my ass, going to work every day so we can keep living here and all I get for thanks is your smart mouth. No wonder Mom took off and left us.”

  Again, this is not something new to me. He says this every single time we get into it. I’m always the reason mom bailed, even though I’m pretty sure it was the dude at the strip club that’s actually the cause. I don’t bother telling him this though. My smart mouth has already gotten me into enough trouble today.

  “Yeah I know Dean, I’m an asshole. You gotta knock some sense into me, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  His fist connects with my face before the last syllable can fall, but I don’t make a move. He hits me again and I
slump even more into the floor. I feel the blood rising to the surface on my lip and instead of handling it, I just sit there, letting it come. It’s easier this way. I let him get his anger out and he’ll screw off again. I just gotta make it through the next few minutes until he tires himself out.

  “You’re the fucking king of the god damned school and you’re gonna blow it all to save some retarded girl that you can’t even stand? You’re damn right I gotta knock some sense into that dumbass head of yours.”

  Punch. Kick. Punch. Kick.

  He repeats in a cycle one after the other and as I sit there and take it, the only thing I really want to do and can’t, is tell him not to call her a retard again. My anger is rising now, but it has nothing to do with the beating and everything to do with the names he’s calling her. The names I’ve called her.

  God, I deserve so much more than this with everything I’ve done.

  As the room starts to spin, I focus on the one clear thought in my head that I’m determined to use to get through this. It’s not even a thought, but a picture and it’s so damn beautiful, I want to hold onto it until this entire moment passes.

  Clear as day, I can see myself smiling. Something I haven’t done since the day my mom left us and this stupid ass town behind. A smile Isabelle gave me, wanting nothing in return and one that even in my haze is turning into something more with each passing second.

  It’s not my own face anymore, but hers I see and it’s what I grasp onto as I feel the world start to spin and go dark. A clear picture of Isabelle finally doing what I wanted her to do while I was driving her home.

  Smiling.

  Chapter Three

  Belle

  My night turned out pretty great considering the way it started. I finally got to see Tristan’s painting, even getting permission to put it up on my wall because I liked it so much. I didn’t get to make the cookies with my mom, but I did get to make them, which is better than nothing.

  The bus is gonna be here to pick me up soon. I’m not looking forward to that. Even though I was able to let it all go last night, it doesn’t mean what happened yesterday is gone completely. I can’t escape it, no matter how much I want to because the problem lives right across the street. We’re bound to see each other and it’s all going to come flooding back.

  It won’t be any easier at school. The girls that were there yesterday, helping Dillon and Tim do things to me, will haunt me in the halls. They’ll call me names, push me around and do everything they can to make sure my day is that much harder. I’ve seen them do it with the other kids before, so I know what I’ve got waiting for me.

  I wanted Mom to call in sick for me this morning, but I chickened out asking her. I really don’t want to go today, especially if Kayden is going to be there, but hiding at home isn’t an option either. Mom always tells me its best to face things head on. So that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.

  I just hope the fear I feel doesn’t end up making everything worse.

  That’s the thing no one gets. The accidents I have, they happen when I’m scared. It starts with my heart racing, which I hear is normal for other kids too, but with me just builds and builds until I can’t control my body’s response.

  “Isabelle! Your bus is here!” I hear my mom call up the stairs and I swallow the awkward lump in my throat. It’s time. There’s no turning back now. I’ve just gotta remember to keep breathing and get through this, no matter how bad it gets.

  That’s harder to do as I get on the bus and see the faces of the other kids like me. All of them have their own challenges they have to face, just like I do. I just hope that by knowing me, that Dillon and his friends don’t turn on them next. I’m not sure if I deserve it or not, but I know they don’t.

  I had this dream last night, about the way things would be when I got to school today. Everyone just forgot about what happened and things went back to normal. I faded into the background like I’ve always done and no one pays me any attention. It was such a great dream. It’s too bad that isn’t at all what happens.

  The minute I step off the bus, the name calling starts. I can hear the words ‘retard’ and ‘moron’ being coughed out in whispered tones, coming from all different directions, so I can’t even say it’s one person doing it. I take it all in as my feet pick up speed, but it’s what I hear next that hurts most.

  “Did you hear she pissed herself in front of everyone?”

  “I heard she really thought Dillon wanted her.”

  “Like there’s anyone who would go to the dance with that reject.”

  “What was God thinking when he made her? She’s defective. Her mom needs to return her.”

  Tears are building in the corners of my eyes and I don’t want anyone to see them, so I start running, pushing past the kids that reached the door first and speeding up even more as I run for the nearest restroom. All I need is a stall with a door that actually locks and a few minutes to collect myself. I’ll be fine if I get that.

  I know what’s coming if I don’t make it in time. The very thing the kids were all talking about seconds ago. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let everyone see me break. I need to be stronger than this.

  The girl’s bathroom comes into sight, but before I can reach out to push the door open, I’m swept off my feet and spun around by a strong pair of arms I can’t place. I start to struggle against them, wanting to break free and hide before everything comes crashing down, but I’m powerless against the person holding me.

  “Isabelle,” the voice says, quieting me as he pulls me against his chest. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  I know that voice. The low, melodic rumble. I heard it yesterday when just like now; he’d rescued me from everything his friends had done.

  Kayden.

  I need to tell him to let me go, warn him that if he doesn’t, things are going to get a whole lot worse, but I can’t get the words to come out. It’s constricted, like something is lodged there preventing me from even making the smallest noise.

  This is definitely not the right time to be mute.

  I keep struggling against him because it’s the only way I can let him know to let me go, but he doesn’t. If it’s possible, I think he’s holding on tighter and even though I don’t want it, I can’t help but admit that it’s comforting.

  “I’m gonna let you go but don’t run, okay?”

  I nod my head and I feel his arms relax, allowing me to move. I don’t do it though. I do exactly what he asked me to do and I stay still, my eyes drilling holes into the floor with the intensity of my stare.

  I can’t look up. I can’t look into his eyes and see pity. For whatever reason, I’ve become his pet project and I don’t want any part of it. So despite my body responding to his words, I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see just how much he gets to me. Especially since he’s probably doing it so he has more material to make fun of me for later.

  “What’s your first class?” he asks, as he leans in close, other students now passing around us.

  I don’t know why he’s asking me this. He has to know by now that I won’t answer.

  “Shit. I’m an idiot. You’re upstairs right?”

  I nod again, thankful that he’s finally catching on. Just like a minute ago, he sweeps me up into him, moving ahead, pushing through the throng of students that are now filling up what had been a near empty hall a minute ago. I’m not sure if it’s so busy because of everything being floated around or if it’s because Kayden’s here now, but whatever the reason, I hate it. I just want to get to my class and away from him, so I can calm down.

  “Ignore everything you hear okay?” he speaks down to me as he continues moving toward the stairs.

  I do as he says and instead focus my attention on the woodsy smell that seems to be wafting off of him and directly into my nostrils. It’s a scent that even with the help he gave me yesterday; I don’t think I’ve ever smelled. It’s strong but not heavy. It’s like a mixture of fr
eshly cut wood and the way the grass smells after it’s been cut in the summer time.

  Turning the corner once we’ve reached the top, he stops and turns until he’s directly in front of me. The smell still lingers between us, but it’s more distant now, not nearly as overpowering as it was a few seconds before.

  I turn toward the classroom, prepared to move myself around his body in order to go in and take my seat, but before I can take a step around him, his arm comes out and brings me back, startling me.

  He did his good deed for the day so what else can he possibly want from me?

  “When class lets out, I want you to wait for me here, alright? Promise me you won’t leave and go on your own.”

  He sounds like my father with what he’s asking and if I could smile or even laugh, I would do it now. Just who does he think he is? Babysitting the autistic kid is not a job he wants, he must know this, so why is he doing it?

  I don’t nod or make any other motion to let him know that I’ll do what he says, instead making my way around him, practically running until I’m in my seat. It’s only when Ms. Taylor makes her way into the room, Kayden right on her heels that I realize he’s not going to give up that easily.

  I watch as they whisper to each other, both of their eyes landing directly on me more than once and I feel sick. It’s obvious he’s trying to get the teachers help in making sure that I don’t leave the class. Pushing them and their stupid conversation out of my head, I start pulling my books out of my bag, putting my full attention into making sure I keep my breathing steady so my heart can finally stop racing.

  A shadow comes across the desk just as I’m about to start reading and looking up, my eyes lock right on a pair of the lightest green eyes I’ve ever seen. These are eyes I haven’t looked into since we were ten years old, at least not this closely. They’re eyes I’ve missed.

  There’s no rage in them this time, they’re soft as they look into my blue ones. Despite the softness, I know I’m not going to like what has to say and thinking about it makes me nervous and uneasy.