He smiled again; I noticed a dimple on his left cheek that I hadn’t seen before. He was cute in a quirky way, far opposite of Derek. “So, where’s your car?”
“Oh, I, um, I don’t have a car,” I admitted.
“Oh.” He paused. “Well, get in then. Do you need a ride home? I don’t mind.”
“No. I take the bus.” I took a step backwards, pointing at the stop, and gasped. The buses were gone. I had never even noticed them pulling away.
“Aren’t you, like, a senior? And you’re still taking the bus?” He snickered. “How old are you? Are you one of those freaky smart kids who skipped a grade or something?”
“I’m almost eighteen,” I snipped. “I’m old enough to drive and I’m in the right grade, thank you very much. I just don’t want to drive.”
“You’re kidding.” He looked at me as if I’d said I wanted to live in the wilderness for the rest of my life and live on bugs and wild animals.
“No, I’m not kidding at all,” I insisted.
“What do you mean you don’t want to drive? Of course you want to drive. Everyone wants to drive.”
“Not me. I’m going to live in the city so I’ll never need to learn to drive. I’ll probably just take cabs everywhere or something. If I live in New York, I can take the subway. There are tons of people who don’t drive. It isn’t the end of the world,” I told him heatedly.
“Oh, so in other words, you’re scared.” He frowned, teasing me tirelessly.
“I’m not scared,” I said defensively, “but I do have to go. I’ll be really late if I don’t leave soon.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re going to walk? Home? No way. Seriously, no. Get in. It’s no big deal. I can’t let you walk home.” He pointed toward his car.
“I’m not walking home. My mom works a block away. I could use the exercise anyway. I’ll be fine,” and then I threw in, “thanks though.” I turned to walk away, believing for a second I had gotten away, as I heard his engine rev up. Then came his voice again as his car pulled up beside me, window rolled down. “Hey, so you never told me why you said no?”
“Said no to what?” I asked, not slowing my pace.
“To Drake when he asked you to prom.”
I glanced at him, a curious look filling my face. How in the world had he known Derek had asked me to prom?
“Sorry, I overheard.” He shrugged, answering the question I hadn’t asked.
I looked back ahead of me, refusing to look his way. “His name’s Derek, not Drake.”
“Okay, Derek then. Why’d you say no to Derek?” He emphasized his name.
I stopped walking, one hand on my hip, the other held up to block the sun from my eyes. “Because I didn’t want to go.”
“Of course you did,” he said simply, his head cocked to the side.
“Why do you keep telling me what I want to do?”
“Because you want to go to prom.”
“How would you know?”
“Well…because everyone wants to go to prom,” he replied.
“Not me,” I said indignantly.
“That’s not possible. And it’s not a reason. You can’t just say no for no reason. It’s just weird.”
“Well, that’s the only reason I have. Sorry.” I took a deep breath, turning to walk away once more.
“No,” he said.
I stopped again, staring at him in disbelief. “No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“No. I reject your answer and request another, kind lady.” He donned a fake British accent and tipped his head at the end for good measure.
“Why can’t I not want to go to prom? People don’t go to prom all of the time.”
“Because they aren’t asked. Or because they have something else going on, sure. But not because they just don’t want to go. That’s just…weird.”
“Well, maybe I’m weird.” I crossed my arms.
“You aren’t.”
I scrunched my brow at him.
“You just aren’t,” he said, to answer my unspoken question.
“You obviously don’t know me, Brayden.” I shook my head at him.
“I’m trying to fix that, Jaicey.” He said my name back to me, that cocky smile still plastered on his face.
“Trust me, you shouldn’t bother wasting your time. Neither should Derek. Which, for the record, is why I said no.”
“Why?”
He was stubborn; I’d give him that.
“Because I’m just…boring. I’d be a boring date. He’d have an awful, boring time. Besides that, I do actually have other plans,” I lied.
“Other plans on prom night? Yeah right, what could be more important than hanging out with your friends?”
“I don’t have friends.” The seriousness in my tone caused my voice to quiver.
He stopped the car abruptly, leaning over in his seat and extending his hand through the window. “Hi, I’m Brayden. I’m new here. Would you care to be my friend?”
I stared at him in disbelief. Even though he was a good foot away from me, I had flinched when he moved his hand toward me. The strange look on his face told me it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Sorry, but no,” I said simply, humiliation filling me. I looked down at the pavement, staring at my scuffed-up Converse.
“Why not?” he asked, unmoving, his hand still outstretched.
“I told you. I don’t have friends. I don’t want friends,” I called behind me as I began to walk again.
“Everyone needs friends, Jaicey. Didn’t you watch Barney growing up? Come on now, that’s Barney 101.”
I ignored his joke with single-minded determination. “Not me, I don’t believe in friendship. Friends are just enemies who know all your biggest secrets and are waiting for a chance to use them against you.”
He started the car again. He wasn’t giving up. “Boy, you sure are cynical.”
“I’m not cynical. I’m honest and I’m realistic and I don’t live in some happy bubble believing that the world is full of goodness and love and if you are just kind to your neighbor everything will work out. That’s all just crap; there’s too much bad in the world. Friends don’t fix that. More people should realize that.”
“All right.” He sighed, sounding defeated. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He laughed again, turning up his music and speeding away.
Chapter 3
“How was school, Jaice?” My mom’s voice echoed through the quiet kitchen.
I nodded, not really looking her direction. “It was fine, Mom.”
“I talked to Rebecca Anderson this afternoon. She asked about you. Did you see Derek at school today?”
I half-smiled. “Yeah, I did. Just for a second after school ended.”
“Did you get to talk to him?”
“No. Not really. Why?”
“Oh, I was just asking,” Mom answered.
I took another bite of my food.
“Did he ask you to prom?” Mom added, bottled excitement in her voice.
“No, he just said hello,” I lied. It wasn’t worth it to tell her the truth.
“Oh. You know what? I wish you would go hang out with friends this week, I know how much you must miss it. I think it’d be really good for you to get out. I’m sure everyone would love to see you. Rebecca said the kids have been just dying for you to come back.”
I pushed my plate of barely touched food away from me. My mother’s naïveté hurt me. She knew they didn’t want to see me. Why would they? Rather than fight, I simply shrugged. “Maybe next week, Mom. I’ve got tons of homework to catch up on.”
“But, Jaice—”
My dad sighed, holding his hand up to stop my mom. “Okay, baby, that’s fine. Let us know if you need any help.”
I stood up, leaving the conversation unfinished just as I did every night. I looked back at my parents; my mom eating her food, staring blankly into space, and my father avoiding eye contact with us both. This was what my family had become. Shortly after turning
fifteen, I entered a no-parent household.
***
The next day at school, I was met at the door by Alyssa Fuller, one of Mallory’s friends. Smile, I willed myself.
Her black hair bounced above her shoulders as she ran toward me, her skin radiating a tan that looked as though she must’ve just come from vacation. “Jaicey! Girl! What the heck is up? I heard you’re going to prom with Derek? Congrats! I’m so excited for you.”
Alyssa had always had an ear for drama. “Uh, no, he, uh, he asked me. But I’m visiting family that weekend, so I had to say no.” I put on my best pretend-to-be-sad face.
She put her arm around me. “Oh, honey. That’s too bad.” Without missing a beat, she went on. “So, did you hear they opened up a new skating rink across town? Boneheads or something like that…I can’t remember the name. Anyway, everybody’s going to check it out soon. You have to come!”
I smiled and ducked out of her embrace quickly, a cloud of her perfume engulfing me. “Yeah, definitely. I mean, maybe. I’ll let you know. Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t talk longer but I’ve got to get to my locker. I’m always late for first period. We’ll talk later.” Smile.
She waved happily as I scrambled from her grasp. “Okay, sure. Well, call me! We have to catch up,” I heard her call out. I kept walking, pretending not to hear a word.
I was surprised to see Brayden sitting quietly in the corner reading, just as he had been the day before. He turned the page of his book, never looking up at me. Before he could see me, I turned to walk down the hallway. I would have to find a new hiding spot. After about five steps, I heard his voice behind me. “You know…I don’t bite. I’d be willing to swear to that. It won’t kill you to be a little friendly.”
I turned on my heel, staring at him oddly. He just smiled and looked back down at his book, daring me to sit next to him. Something came over me, a braveness I hadn’t known before, and I smiled back. Dare accepted.
***
The next week, my room was unnaturally cold when I got home. I slipped on my sweatpants and a big t-shirt, then jumped into bed. I reached over and turned my phone on silent. I didn’t want to be bothered. Honestly, it wasn’t not like anyone would call, but the satisfaction that came with knowing that they couldn’t made me feel safe. I closed my eyes, rolled over, and entered my bubble. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to drift off to sleep. I welcomed sleep like an old friend. My dreams, much like the rest of my life, were empty and dark. In both worlds I found myself alone. When I was young, I could never remember my dreams. Now, the familiar loneliness in them found me immediately upon waking.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep when a scream tore me from my slumber. It had me up out of bed faster than I thought possible. I tossed my covers aside quickly, darting from the room. It was loud, blaring and roaring in my sleep-coated mind. It penetrated my thoughts until I could focus on nothing else. The scream was mesmerizing. It made my head spin and I could feel cool tears gathering in my eyes. Calm down, I willed myself, but it was all so loud. Finally, relief came in the form of darkness as I tumbled to the floor.
***
The light burned my opening eyes, and for a split second I thought maybe it had all been a dream. I realized quickly, however, that the screaming in my head was still ringing and it was not actually inside my head but coming from somewhere in the house. It had turned into more of a moan now. Somewhere in the distance I could hear voices. The scream was coming from so far away, I doubted I could ever make it in time. Something was in my house, invading my safety. I wanted it to go away. I stood up and instinctively grabbed my head. It felt so heavy.
“Stop screaming!” I yelled. “Stop it! Stop it, please!” I bellowed out a scream of my own. It had to stop. The screaming stopped, as if on command. Then, after a brief pause, I heard, “Jaicey? Jaicey…please help.”
I forced myself to stand up, though my legs still felt like jelly. I walked in a dreamlike state, listening carefully for her muffled cries. “Mom?” I called out.
I followed the cries and found myself in her bedroom. “Momma?” When I finally saw her, fear gripped my stomach and my knees buckled. I fell to the floor again.
Crouched down so close to the floor, I could smell the carpet. I crawled up to her, forcing my body to move. She was lying face down on a crumpled pile of clothes. I said her name once more, approaching her slowly. I grabbed her arm apprehensively, lightly shaking her, willing her to tell me what was happening.
“What’s wrong?” I watched her body shake with sobs. Finally, she lifted her head, meeting my eyes.
“Call nine-one-one, Jaicey. Please. Call nine-one-one.” I looked down to her lap, where my father’s head lay. His eyes were wide open, his face solid as stone. There was a string of vomit hanging off his chin, leading to a puddle in the floor.
“Dad?” I asked, my voice shaking. He didn’t look at me. “What’s wrong with him?” I begged my mother.
She grabbed my arm, squeezing it tightly. “Jaicey, now! Go!”
Her fingers dug into my skin, her grip hurting me. Everything in my body grew cold. I jerked away from her grasp, her nails leaving trails of blood. Her face filled with fear, knowing what she’d done. I scrambled backwards, trying to get away as fast as possible.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed at her, my voice so feral and animal-like I didn’t recognize it. “Don’t you ever touch me!”
I tripped twice while running out of the room, though I couldn’t stop. I had to find safety. I couldn’t bring myself to look back at my mother’s sobbing face, though I could hear her crying out to me. It wasn’t until I was behind my locked door that my breathing slowed and my heart rate calmed. Five minutes later, once I could catch my breath, I called 911.
Chapter 4
When I was a little girl my dad used to bounce me on his knee and sing to me whenever I was afraid. It became our little ritual. I remember the day it started: It was the night before I began kindergarten, and I was worried about starting school, worried about making friends. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t scared, but my parents knew better. After dinner, Mom told me to get my pajamas on. I did. When I came back to the living room to say goodnight, my dad scooped me over his shoulder and sat me down on his knee. Then he bounced his knee, singing a song out loud, off-key, and out of tune but I didn’t care. It felt like that moment lasted forever. I remember how hard we laughed. I remember my cheeks burning from the excitement and adrenaline. When it was over, he hugged me close and whispered, “You have scared eyes. Don’t be scared, Jaice. Daddy’s not going to let anything hurt you.” It was almost instantaneous, the relief that washed over me. Just like that, I wasn’t afraid anymore. Without ever speaking of it, this little ceremony became ours. We did it every year before my first day of school. Eventually, I claimed that I was too big to sit in his lap anymore and he understood, but he still offered every single year.
***
When we arrived at the hospital Mom was still panicked, shouting orders at everyone in sight. I was in shock, ignoring every order she shouted, and my dad was unconscious. Lucky him. The doctors took him into a room and ordered me and Mom out. We must have sat there for hours, waiting and watching, standing hopefully as each doctor strode past us. We had no idea what to do with the silence of the hallway, so eventually sleep found me and I graciously welcomed it.
***
A brain tumor. No, correction: a malignant brain tumor. An inoperable, malignant brain tumor. That’s what the doctor had called it. That’s what was growing inside of my dad. As we walked into the hospital room, I saw that Dad was sitting up in bed, but he still looked exhausted. He smiled at me, though I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. He had a tumor. A brain tumor, stage two. It was a tumor. I tried to run it through my head enough so that it would have to make sense. So far, it hadn’t worked.
My mom was talking to the doctor with a solemn, serious face. Business all the time; that was my mom. She had never been the type to s
how emotion or let any situation get the best of her. For that, I can say I learned from the very best.
“Have you ever been talking to someone saying go left while pointing right?” the doctor was asking her. “Your body confuses all the signals, and your brain gives up until you have to ask which way to go. That’s what a tumor does to you. Your brain tells your body to do one thing, but the tumor says the other. As the tumor grows, it’s likely that everything in his body will see an adverse effect.”
My mother was nodding simply, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if he were telling her that he liked the color red.
“Of course, all the symptoms aren’t expected anytime soon. It looks like he had a mild seizure and hit his head. Fortunately, there was no swelling. Nothing too serious yet. We’re going to need to go ahead and schedule his first few rounds of chemo and radiation, obviously. I’ll get you out here with my secretary to see what sort of schedule we can start him out on.”
My mother followed him out into the hallway, and I walked up to my dad’s bed cautiously, my gaze sealed to the floor. I pulled myself up beside him so that I could touch him, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. We were quiet for a while, both of us staring off into space. Every part of me ached. This wasn’t fair.
“Well, looks like I gave you all quite a scare,” my dad said finally, breaking the ice.
I smiled halfheartedly. “Yeah.”
He touched my hand. I tried to resist flinching, but it happened anyway. He moved it back without saying a word, a confirmation that I was still as broken as before. I couldn’t change.
I tried to fill in the quiet. “So how do you feel? Do you feel differently? Does anything hurt? Can I get you anything?”
“I’m okay. Better than before, I guess. I’m not too sore or anything like that, thank goodness. My head still feels pretty…Jaicey? Where are you going?” he called out after me, unable to move from his bed.
The Truth About My Scratches (The Carolina Killer Files #3) Page 2