Bold

by Julia Swift

  I need to be in a different world with different people. People who live a real life. Like Ricky. I wonder what he’s doing tonight. The train station is not that far. I can run, even in heels.

  I take off fast. It feels amazing to get my blood pumping. I’m out of breath, which I have to admit scares me a little, but I’m handling it. I feel so alive. And I’m breathing okay. But the train station is farther than I remember, at least it feels farther at night when you can’t see what’s ahead of you. It could be a mile, or maybe seven. A car is coming, so I move off to the side of the road. The car slows and a woman rolls down the window.

  “Need a ride?”

  She looks like the bored woman from the group session. But she’s not. Just the same age and same edge. She stares at me, concerned. Makes sense, a young girl dressed in heels on the road alone. Suddenly a ride sounds great. I hop in her car.

  “Can you take me to the train station?”

  “Sure. Had a fight with your boyfriend?”

  Great. Now I even look like one of those girls to strangers. I’m not going to be able to convince her I’m really smart and driven, especially since I don’t even know what I’m driven to do yet. So I don’t answer. But when she drops me off at the station, I smile. I want her to feel like she did the right thing, helped someone. Somehow that seems important now. But she’s still staring. I don’t need another mom. One is more than enough.

  There’s the train. I snuck money out of Mom’s wallet today in case Will wanted to go out, just the two of us, away from the party. Obviously that isn’t happening and this is so much better. I don’t have to answer to anybody. The train is almost empty so I sit where I want, next to a window so I can watch all the houses whiz past, everyone stuck in their little boxes. I can go anywhere. Now that I’m sitting, I can take full breaths again. I’m really proud of myself for running through the fear and for being here. When I’m old and I look back, I bet I won’t even remember the party or Will, but I’ll remember the night I got on a train alone to have an adventure. And how I ran and didn’t care how I looked and felt every inch of my body come alive.

  I step off the train at Ricky’s stop. I know where he will be, watching over that boy with the scar. He has a purpose, a soul. He feels something. I want to feel something desperate and real like that, not pretend like the kids back at school.

  It’s colder now and this shirt from Lisa barely covers my shoulders.

  “Honeybee.”

  When I turn to look at the old woman, I see her in colors like I saw the people before I died. But I’ve never seen this woman. I’m going to take it as a sign that she’s extra good. I want to believe she is, and she’s smiling at me as I move closer to her front stoop.

  “You’ve got goose bumps little miss. Here, take my sweater. I’ve got plenty of padding to keep me warm.”

  I don’t tell her the goose bumps are an earned love of life I don’t want to squash. Truth is, that sweater’s looking comfy. When she wraps it around me, it’s like she knitted it for me, then warmed it up on her body before giving me the gift. I don’t know what to say, but I smile and that turns the colors I’m seeing in her even darker purple. It does occur to me I may be seeing colors because after all that running and losing my breath, I’m not getting enough oxygen to my brain. I kick that thought into the gutter and walk on feeling like I’m radiating a warm purple now, too.

  After the accident, I got it wrong. I thought I had to jump into life and take risks by overcoming my fear of how people saw me. But that’s not it. I need to forget my fears. Ignore them or if I can’t, then move past them, dodging the fears whenever they pop into my head.

  I walk toward Scar Boy’s apartment building. Ricky must live nearby. I can’t get in, the gate’s locked. I walk around the block and there’s another locked gate, but I see one open up ahead. That’s kind of creepy, they lock everyone in at night. They’re probably trying to lock out scary guys, but I wouldn’t want to be locked in like a prisoner.

  I step over broken glass as I enter Scar Boy’s building. I’m pretty sure I see people staring from behind ripped curtains. Suddenly, Ricky is standing next to me. How did he know I was here? I guess the eyes behind the curtains texted him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “So you walk here alone at night? Not smart.”

  I know he’s mad, but he still looks sad. His eyes are so intense, they are mesmerizing. He looks away, breaking the spell.

  Ricky leads me up the stairs. They smell like a tunnel you pass through to go under the tracks at a train station. I like anything having to do with trains now. They lead to the world, to freedom. We step into his apartment. I thought his place would be empty, but it’s just the opposite. There’s more furniture than I’ve ever seen stuffed into a place this size, mirrors and paintings and knick-knacks everywhere. I wonder if his parents are home. Does his mom know about Carlos? Ricky watches a video on YouTube, but I’m immediately bored. Another waste of time. Not what I expected to find here.

  “Why do guys lie?”

  “I don’t.”

  I believe him. He looks at my legs in Lisa’s skirt and suddenly I wish I was in my jeans. But I’m not scared, I only wish it didn’t have to be about that now.

  “You hungry?”

  I’m starving. We search through his kitchen. Not much food there, but he finds macaroni and cheese. When I try to help, he takes the box away from me. I’m the guest, he’s going to do it. I sit at the kitchen table and watch him cook. I wonder what he’s thinking. My brain is always going everywhere at once, and I have this image of his brain with little mac and cheese pieces dancing around. Like he’s really focusing in a Zen way I never could.

  There’s a knock at the door and as he answers it, I focus on little dancing macaronis. Maybe I can try to be Zen, too. Maybe that will help stop my heart from racing.

  I’m slammed back to reality when Carlos pushes his way into the apartment. He is even less happy to see me than I am to see him.

  “You idiot. You let her know where you live?”

  “She didn’t tell the cops anything.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Ricky looks so small next to Carlos.

  “I’ll take her home.”

  Ricky grabs his jacket. I follow him to the door. Carlos blocks our way.

  “No. She’s not going anywhere until I figure out how we fix your mess.”

  Carlos fingers something in his pocket. Ricky doesn’t sit down. He tries to pull me around Carlos, who blocks the door.

  “I’ll get her to the train, then we’ll figure this out.”

  “She’s the problem, stupid. But maybe not so much of a problem. Girl like that coming around here, doubt she told anyone where she was going.”

  Ricky tries to push Carlos out of the way. Carlos pulls out a gun. I’ve never seen one before in real life. It looks so small. Every part of my body freezes. Knowing there’s a gun is enough to make me really scared, but not so scared that I don’t think about running for the door. Carlos can see what I’m thinking, he aims for me.

  “I’m not going back to jail.”

  I can feel the blood course through my body. I imagine if he shot me how much blood would spurt out of my veins.

  “Put the gun down.”

  Ricky tries to reason with his friend.

  “Calm down.”

  “I won’t say anything.”

  How can I make him believe I would stay silent? I don’t think it’s possible. I don’t even believe I would stay silent now.

  “She hasn’t said a word, otherwise you wouldn’t even be here. We would both be in jail.”

  “Shut up, let me think.”

  “Let her go.”

  What am I doing here? How did trying to live turn into this? If I pull away, he could shoot me. This time there is no crash on the road for someone else to see and call for help. There would be no paramedics. Ricky wouldn’t do any
thing. This guy is his friend, and I don’t even know him.

  “Let her go.”

  If Ricky tries to make a move, Carlos might freak and his finger could slip. He’ll shoot me. No hospital, no second chance. I’ll be gone for real this time. I know I should be thinking of a way out, but all I can think about is how wrong I was to think taking chances made sense. I do not want to die. If I make it out of here, I’m never taking a chance again. I’ll be careful and nice and sweet and stay home and never leave. Please let me go home.

  The doorbell rings. Carlos pushes us into the back bedroom and locks the door. I run to the window. We’re on the second story.

  “Jump.”

  I’m too scared.

  “He’ll hurt you. He thinks he has to shut you up.”

  We hear Carlos open the front door and yell.

  “Anyone here? You better show your damned self.”

  Ricky gives me a hand climbing onto the windowsill. I jump before I can think about it. My elbow hurts a little from the fall, but I’m fine. Ricky winces when he lands. He re-injured his knee. As I help him up, I see more curtains moving in the building, but no one says a thing. A kid runs out the front door. It could be the kid with the scar. Was he the one who rang the doorbell? He’s gone and Ricky takes off running, pulling me. His knee hurts again, but he’s running. He must really be scared. I think of the ways to make sure someone can’t talk, and I push myself to run faster than I ever thought I could.

  30

  Will

  On the walk home with Griff, all I can think about is how Sasha almost found out about my dad dying. She has no right to know, no right bringing him up. I’ll tell her when I’m ready, if I tell her at all, which I probably won’t because she’ll definitely get mad, won’t understand.

  “So how’d it go with Carmen?

  Griff nods as he chews on a hangnail.

  “She gave me her number so we can text.”

  “You can always crash with me if you wanna hang with her again.” Griff doesn’t respond.

  “Do you wanna grab a burger?”

  Griff shrugs his shoulders.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you kidding? Half-hour ago, you were getting some and now you’re being all moody. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut.”

  Griff walks away from me and into the burger joint. Whatever. I snag a table with chairs that spin. I hate this kind of set-up, but I have to sit here. My legs don’t fit in the booths. The chairs make me think of an owl, they can’t spin endlessly, they turn to a point in one direction, lock, then do a 360 in the opposite direction. That’s kind of how I feel right now. Spun. Spent. I’m not hungry as Griff brings burgers and fries. He kicks my foot from the other chair. He’s driving me nuts.

  “What is your problem?”

  “You.”

  “That I got. What did I do?”

  “You freakin’ said I was dead.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Yes, you did. You told Sasha your best friend from home died.”

  Oh that.

  “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want her to find out about my dad. Sorry. You didn’t tell her about my dad, did you?”

  “I would never do that.”

  “I know, dude.”

  Griff cracks a smile.

  “Dude? You turning into a surfer dude now that you live in California?”

  *

  Griff and I find Mom and Bill drinking wine, talking, laughing in the living room. Seeing them, it’s like being sucker punched in the gut. Bill set me up for this one, wanted to get caught. No way I’m going to let him do anything. I put my cellphone on the coffee table and plop into a chair. Griff looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “So Bill, do you have to pay alimony? Or does your ex?”

  “Will.”

  Mom shoots me a look. My phone rings. I want to ignore it. I silence it. But a minute later, it rings again.

  “Yeah?”

  It’s Sasha’s brother, Xander. I don’t want Mom and Bill hearing what I’m saying so I head to my bedroom. I want to keep the door open, make sure they don’t do anything, but I can’t risk Mom hearing what I’m saying. I close the door, turn on some music.

  “I don’t know why she left, but it was a while ago.”

  I cover the mouthpiece to let Griff know what the deal is.

  “Sasha never made it back to Lisa’s. She’s been covering for her, but Lisa was worried about her so she called Sasha’s brother.”

  “Who’s Lisa?”

  “Got me, friend of Sasha’s, I guess. Never met her.”

  Where could Sasha be? It’s really dark up in the hills around Carmen’s house. I should have run after her. Sasha’s brother wants to go look for her. I talk him into bringing us along. I hang up the phone.

  “He’s picking us up in ten. Grab a jacket, believe it or not it gets freezing out here in the desert at night. Was Sasha wearing a sweater?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Neither do I.

  Ten minutes later, Xander pulls up in his truck. Griff and I slip out my bedroom window, run across the small backyard and climb into the car. Xander looks worried. I wonder if driving around late at night is how he got in trouble in the first place. Sasha told me he was in prison, but I don’t know what he did to get there.

  We stop at Lisa’s. Xander waits in the truck.

  Lisa watches by the side door. She leads us up the staircase to her room, closes the door.

  “Still no word from Sasha?”

  “Nothing.”

  Griff plays with a pink elephant stuffed animal and bends its trunk. Lisa grabs it from him. I spot a picture on the bureau of Lisa and Sasha. They look about nine. All pigtails and braces. I guess they really are friends.

  “Last time I saw her, she stormed out of the party. What did you do to her?”

  She thinks it was my fault. Was it? Maybe.

  “How did you get home?”

  “I walked down the hill with some of the cheerleaders.”

  Griff cuddles a princess doll.

  “Maybe she ran into some friends and went home with them.”

  “Absolutely not. She doesn’t have other friends. She is crazy shy.”

  Griff and I don’t buy it.

  “I know it doesn’t seem like it lately. But she is. Even her parents couldn’t believe she got involved with a guy.”

  That guy was me.

  “But when the police call and say your daughter spent hours with some guy, kind of hard to argue with that.”

  Hold up, it’s not me. It’s the guy from the game store.

  “First, I can barely get her to leave her house, talk to anyone. Then suddenly she’s traipsing across the city, picking up strangers and two guys are sitting on my bed in the middle of the night. Wait, you think that’s where she went? Back to that guy? In the projects?”

  She picks up her phone, starts to dial 911.

  “No. Sasha wouldn’t want that.”

  “Sasha doesn’t get a say, she’s missing.”

  Griffin takes her side.

  “Will, what if she’s in real trouble?”

  “I was with her when she... ran into him. Let me look first.”

  Griff and I head to the door. Lisa blocks us.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  31

  Sasha

  We’re running across the street. Ricky is almost pulling me because I’m having a hard time running, and he’s the one with the hurt knee. I can’t get a deep breath. For a minute I think it’s because Carlos strangled me, then I remember the gun never went off and he never put his hands around my neck. So why does it feel like my neck is being crushed?

  I keep running because I want to escape right now more than I want to breathe. I remember learning how long a person can go without oxygen. I know a giant whale can survive underwater for an hour, but how long can a human last? I’m convinced no air is ent
ering my lungs, and I need to calculate how much farther I can run.

  Ricky is staring at me, still running but staring at me. I hear myself wheezing.

  “Do you need to stop?”

  I shake my head no, we can’t. Carlos will be coming after us. I try to run faster, and I do, but then everything turns blurry. I can still see Ricky, but his body melds into the trees around him, and I’m afraid I’m going to meld into the ground.

  I’m surprised I haven’t passed out. I’m still up and running and Ricky’s goopy shadow-like presence is next to me. I can hear his breath in normal rhythms and try to emulate it, but nothing is getting past my mouth into my throat.

  How can I suffocate now? It’s not fair. I survived the crash and Carlos. Maybe I’m having a heart attack. I better stop.

  Ricky doesn’t try to make me run again. He pulls me under a tree so we’re not visible out in the open.

  “Breathe.”

  Doesn’t he know I’m trying? He takes slow deep breaths, hoping I’ll imitate him. But they are so slow, I’m afraid it will take too long to send the air into my lungs. I’m trying to copy him, but now my lips tingle and so do my cheeks, and I’m sure I’m having a heart attack.

  Limping on one leg, he helps me sit and pushes my head between my legs. My hair hangs down all around my face, forming a kind of cocoon with my legs. There’s no light in my little circle now, even the glow from the harsh street lamps is gone. All I can hear is the blood rushing to my head. It sounds like the wind whipping through the house when all the windows are open and everyone’s out except me. I haven’t done that in a long time, stayed home alone. I miss it.

  I could use some cool air now. I’m burning up, which scares me even more because I’m always freezing. I don’t understand what’s happening to my body. My fingers hit the cold earth, and it’s like jumping into a cold shower. I push my palms down onto the ground to draw more of the cold into me.