I grip the railing at the bottom of the stairs. “And you’re doing it? With Laura?”
“Well, we asked, but you can’t request a certain child. But it could be somebody like Laura. Someone who needs help.”
The breath I’d been holding escapes before I let it. “I guess that’s good.”
My dad nods and they exchange a glance. They’re happy about it. This isn’t just for me. Something lets go deep inside me. For the first time in years, I feel lucky. “Thank you,” I say. I turn away, back to my music before they see my tears.
****
By my third week of dance classes, my eyebrows start to grow in. I notice when I’m pulling my hair back in the mirror – the little stubbles poking through the skin. I run my finger over them, but I don’t pull.
It’s Friday night, and my parents are in the living room watching a movie. Usually, I join them. I curl up on the couch until it’s over, and then go to bed early. Tonight though, I pick up my phone.
Melody answers on the third ring.
“It’s Kelsey,” I say.
“What do you want?” Her voice is flat.
“Nothing.” I hold the phone away and almost hang up, but bring it back again. “I mean, I was wondering if you and Taylor wanted to meet me at Luigi’s. For pizza.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, tonight. Maybe at eight?”
“Fine,” she says.
“Fine?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
The line disconnects, and I stare at my phone. I don’t know if she’ll stand me up. If she’ll show up without Taylor and ream me out again. But I get ready anyway, filling in my eyebrows and carefully choosing my new favorite jeans and a black top. By the time I look in the mirror, I almost have myself convinced I’m a normal girl meeting some friends for pizza.
I order a Coke when I get there and spin my straw around in my glass until all the fizz is gone. Then I down the flat pop in two big gulps, letting it jiggle in my stomach. I’m about to get up when the door opens.
They come in together, and I try to meet their eyes and smile, but I’m not sure quite how it turns out. It’s not until they get closer that I realize they’re holding hands.
I look at Taylor. He’s grinning sheepishly. I feel something in the pit of my stomach for a split second, but then it’s gone, and I’m happy for them. I smile back, this time certain it’s coming out right. “Thanks for coming.”
“Where have you been?” Melody asks, trying to erase the smile from her mouth. “You wouldn’t even talk to us.”
I push my empty glass away. “You were mad at me.”
“Yes,” she says. “But I forgave you. You just weren’t around to accept the apology.”
Taylor slides out a chair and gives Melody a look until she sits down too. I take a deep breath. Melody and Taylor both look at me, expectantly. I grab my straw wrapper and fold it up between my fingers. “It’s complicated,” I say.
“We’re your friends, Kelsey,” Melody says. “Or at least we were. We can handle complicated.”
I let go of the straw wrapper, and it unfolds like an accordion on the table. “My ex-boyfriend in Tulsa used to hit me.” It comes out in one breath. I meant to say I was busy with dance or that it’s been stressful with all the house stuff. But now it’s out there, sitting on the table, next to my straw wrapper for everyone to see.
“He was abusive?” Melody asks. “Is that why you moved here?”
I grab the straw wrapper and start folding it again. “No. We moved here for my parents, but I was happy to get away. I thought I could start over.”
“But you couldn’t,” Taylor says, reading my mind.
I swallow. “No. It was a long time ago, but I never told anyone. I’ve just been dealing with a lot of stuff. I didn’t mean to push you guys away. And I didn’t mean to try to steal Taylor from you. I don’t even like him.”
“Hey,” Taylor says, kicking my shoe under the table.
“I meant, not like that. Not like Melody.”
Melody comes around to my side of the booth and puts her arm around me. I feel my body relax and hug her back. “I’m so sorry,” I say.
“Victoria told me what she said to you about Taylor – that it wasn’t your fault.”
“When?”
“About a month ago. I tried to call you, but you weren’t answering your phone.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“I’m feeling a little left out of this group hug thing,” Taylor says, kicking me lightly under the table. He gets up and crawls over Melody to get between us. “Now this is much better. How about some pizza?”
We laugh and Taylor flags over a waitress. By the time the pizza comes I feel like this can’t possibly be me – laughing and talking with people who want to be my friends. Who want to spend time with me. Even after I screwed everything up.
But it is me. And I couldn’t be happier.
Epilogue
The new house will be finished tomorrow – a week before Christmas. I’ll have Christmas break to get settled, and then it’s back to school. I’m almost afraid of the move. Everything is finally almost normal again. Not perfect, but I don’t expect perfect anymore anyway.
I hang out with Taylor and Melody most Fridays at Luigi’s. Sometimes Victoria and Ryan come with us. I have my dance classes on Tuesdays, and have coffee with Lydia afterwards. I’m doing well in school again now that I stopped missing classes. My parents are back to bickering about the furniture for the new house.
They got their foster relief child. Her name is Emily and she’s eight. She comes every Sunday and we take her places – the petting zoo, or the library sometimes. She’s not Laura, but I love her all the same. She’s never known her father, and her mom’s an alcoholic. She might not have hurt her physically, but sometimes I see something in Emily’s eyes and know she’s been hurt much deeper than that. My parents never say, but I know they love her too. They don’t know I’ve heard them murmur words like adoption and lawyer and court late at night when I pass by their room.
I think about Laura every day. Lydia showed me where her new school is in Oakwood, and I went there once and stood outside, trying to catch a glimpse of her. When I did, she was smiling. And that was enough. Someday I’ll be brave enough to talk to her again. Maybe even ask her how Jay is. Just not yet.
I still wake up sweating from a dream I don’t remember some nights, and I still jump when Melody or Taylor touches my arm to get my attention. But I’m happy. Or as close to it as I’ve been in a long time.
And part of me is afraid one big change, like moving, will screw it all up again.
My parents have been asking me to come by and see the house for the past month, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m afraid of what it will feel like to see the last bit of Jay and Laura’s old life erased and replaced. Mostly, I’m afraid I’ll think about Jay.
I haven’t talked to him since that day at the courthouse. For a while I hung onto his words, hoping when he said he couldn’t forgive me then, he meant he would, someday. But now, I realize what I did was too big for that. I was one of the few people he thought he could trust. It doesn’t matter that Laura is okay now. That he might even get visiting rights again. It doesn’t erase the fact that I went behind his back. Trust is a fragile thing. Break it once, and you may never be able to put it back together.
I know that better than anyone.
I shove my last sweater in my suitcase, and know it’s time. If I don’t go there now, it will be tomorrow when my parents are with me and the house is crawling with movers. I need to see it on my own terms.
I leave in the evening when no one will be left at the house, and all the finishing touches should be complete. My parents are busy watching TV and only seem slightly surprised when I say I’m heading out to the library to find something for one of my assignments.
I grab my coat and hat and step outside. My body shivers, not used to the fresh air. I zip my coat u
p further below my chin and walk quickly, my legs welcoming the exercise. The few blocks to the house don’t take long enough. When it comes into view, I stop walking. It looks out of place among the other houses because it’s new.
But otherwise, it’s perfect.
They kept the same style of the old house with shutters on the windows and a wrap-around front porch and brick all around. But that’s not what gets me.
The front door – big and old-fashioned and beautiful - is a bright, golden yellow.
I stare at it for a while, thinking of Jay’s mom and her house of gold. I think I’d like her. I consider trying the door, but I’m pretty sure it’s locked and I didn’t ask for a key. I kind of just expected to stand outside and see it. I didn’t think I’d be ready to go in. But now that I’m here, I need to go in. I need to feel it all.
I walk around to the side of the house and sure enough, there’s a window in the same place the old window from my bedroom used to be – Jay’s bedroom.
The tree Jay used to climb is still here, but the branch that leans toward the window is further away.
I take a breath and grab onto the lowest branch, swinging my legs up around it to pull myself up. I’m thankful for the darkness, hoping no one will see me and call the police. The next branch is easier to reach and I keep going, one branch at a time, until I’m almost level with the window. The branch leaning toward it seems sturdy enough, so I inch my way out on it.
When I get as far out as I can go, I crouch down and try to reach for the window. I can just touch it with the tips of my fingers. I inch out a little further and feel the branch bend with my weight. I’m not sure if I can make it.
That’s when I see it.
A shoe print on the outside window ledge. My breath catches.
Jay. It has to be.
I inch out just a bit further. This time I manage to get my fingers under the window and slide it up. It’s unlocked.
I take a step and grab onto the bricks of the house as I lift my other foot off the branch. I wobble for a second, but then I look down and see my foot inside the slightly larger print and relax.
Crouching down, I lift the window the rest of the way up and step inside. Relief washes over me. It is a bedroom. It’s my bedroom. A new bed is already there, waiting for me with the comforter I helped my mom pick out online. The set-up is the same as it used to be, just larger.
I look around for a sign Jay was here, but nothing seems out of place. I sit down on the bed and smooth my hand over the comforter. The heat is still turned down, and I shiver.
I kick off my shoes and crawl under the covers. I stare at the ceiling for a while, letting the space sink into me. Trying to see if it feels like home.
And it does. I feel like I’m finally home for the first time in months.
I throw the covers off and walk around the house, letting the space sink into me. It feels safe. It feels right. I touch every wall and surface, marking it as mine.
When I get back to the bedroom, I walk over to the closet and turn the knob. It’s a walk-in closet this time, bigger than it was before. I step inside the big, empty space, wondering if I even have enough clothes to fill it.
I’m about to walk out when something catches my eye and my breath at the same time.
There are pencil marks on the wall, so light, I almost didn’t see them. I put my hand up just above my head to the line on the wall. There’s nothing else but a single line, and another one, lower on the wall. I stand next to them and that’s when I know for sure. I lean my head to the side where the crook of his neck would be and can almost feel him there.
I run my fingers over the lines, smiling.
The smile is still on my face when I back out of the closet, when I turn and see him there in my room. In our room. He’s sitting on the window ledge, his feet reaching the floor.
“I was wondering when you’d come,” he says.
The apologies, the explanations, the things I’d rehearsed in my head for weeks, all get caught on my tongue. And then he’s here, in front of me, closing the gap between us.
“I forgot something,” he says. He pulls me back into the closet and takes out a pencil, pointing me toward the wall. I lean my back against it and stand up straight. He reaches his hand over my head and draws a line.
I turn to look at it. It’s wobbly and imperfect, but I smile anyway.
About the Author
Monica Goulet writes and lives in Oshawa, Ontario with her husband. She graduated from Brock University with a Bachelor's degree in English and Professional Writing. In her other life, she’s an instructional designer and a mother-to-be who likes ice cream, running, and losing herself in a good story.
Also from Astraea Press
Chapter One
“I hate this place. It totally stinks!” Tina Tolliver screamed into her cell phone. Silence followed. She waited for her mom to give in… just like she always did. A soft sigh sounded from the other end of the line. Holding her breath, she waited for a response.
“No.”
Heat spread across her face, rage bubbling underneath.
“I hate you.” She snapped the phone shut, throwing it across the room and smacking the edge of the white windowsill, removing a small chip of paint in the process. She plopped down on the bed and twirled a strand of her long, brown hair around her index finger. Her foot worked at a frantic pace as she tried to calm down.
She’d been here exactly one week now, and she’d had about all she could take of this dump. It was one thing to be dragged here every year at Christmas but a whole new kind of disaster to be forced to spend the entire summer here.
She longed for home. L.A. Where the weather was hot but not the kind of heat that made her hair flat, her back sticky, and her eyeliner run. The never-ending humidity was yet another reason she hated Texas.
She missed her friends and her own bedroom and all her stuff. Leering at the starkness of her white bedroom with the frilly handmade curtains and the matching mirrored dresser, she’d been imprisoned in a doll house. How lame.
Rolling off the bed, she studied herself in the mirror. Eyes brimming with tears and frustration pounding through her head, she bit her lower lip. This was stupid. She had to figure out a way to convince her mother to let her come home. She’d never make it through the whole summer here.
This place was a nightmare called Truth, Texas.
****
Donning her snug-fitted, black shirt and jeans and armed with her most stylish hobo bag, she sauntered down the country road toward town.
Despite the heat, she had to look cool. The jeans were probably a bad choice as she was less than half way there, and she could already feel them forming an unpleasant suction to her skin. Around the soft area at the back of her knees, the damp friction was rubbing her raw.
She pulled her heavy bag off one shoulder and slung it over the other as she continued her journey. The store was just up ahead, and she could already imagine the air conditioned burst of cold air that would hit her when she opened the door.
Her grandmother’s house wasn’t air conditioned at all. Well, if you didn’t count that ancient window unit that was perched in her kitchen window. Of course, she would only run that when she was in there cooking.
Tina had already gotten into it with her earlier today when her grandmother caught her sitting on the kitchen counter with the window unit pumping out life-saving doses of frigid air.
She didn’t see what the big deal was any way. She’d only needed somewhere to paint her toenails.
The old lady had freaked out and actually hit her with a rolled up newspaper. She was crazy. Her whole family was crazy. Only two more years of high school and she’d be free of them. They didn’t even know her. How could they possibly understand her?
In fact, the only person who understood her was Sloane.
She slipped her phone out of her pocket to check for the thousandth time today. Still no messages from her best friend — she was probably at
the beach anyway. Her parents hadn’t freaked out about one little traffic accident like Tina’s had.
She crossed the road and stepped into the gravel covered parking lot of Central Grocery. That was when she noticed a tall, skinny guy leaning against the side of the building.
She hadn’t seen him here before.
She liked the way he had one foot on the ground and the other pressed against the wall behind him as he leaned there smoking his cigarette. Well, truth be told, he wasn’t technically smoking it so much as just holding it between two fingers and letting it burn.
He had black hair that hung low over one eye, and he wore a silver ring on the thumb of his right hand. The sleeves of his black T-shirt were rolled up above his shoulders.
Tina focused on his lips while he surveyed the cars coming and going in the semi-busy parking lot.
Then, their eyes met, and she realized she was standing there staring at him like an absolute idiot.
His eyes raked over her, and her stomach dipped.
Tearing her attention away from him, she headed for the door. The bell made that annoying tinkling sound as she pushed it inward.
Normally, she relished the feel of the cold air but, this time, was so flustered by the hottie outside she needed more than the air conditioner to cool her down now.
Past the shelves laden with candy and chips, she zipped straight to the back and opened the cooler. She stood there in a daze, studying the variety of available soft drinks and letting the air wash over her. Oh, how she longed for her daily iced mocha coffee. Sloane was still getting hers every morning before she headed down to their hang out at Whistler’s Cove — that was for sure.
Of course, Tina knew she’d ultimately been sent here because of her friendship with Sloane. Her best friend was known as a stereotypical “bad influence.” Tina didn’t see her that way. She just saw her as someone who knew how to have a good time, even if it did mean breaking a few rules along the way.
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