Stronger than You Know

by Jolene Perry

  I stare at my bare feet on the carpet. “I drew this just for fun. I …”

  “Wow.” Uncle Rob looks over his wife’s shoulder and then up to me with the same look of disbelief. “I had no idea.”

  “Do you have drawings? From your mom’s house?” Aunt Nicole asks.

  “The police took them.”

  “We should get them back. It seems a—”

  “I don’t want those. I never want those. I’ll draw new ones.” I look at Uncle Rob and then Aunt Nicole. “Okay?”

  They exchange a glance.

  “This is amazing. Thank you so much for sharing this with us.” Aunt Nicole’s arms come around me in a hug and then Uncle Rob’s. I never would have thought that I’d want to be held like this. And now I can’t imagine a life when it never happens.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Back to this

  I don’t want to be at school today, where I’m suddenly being looked after by Tara or Justin between classes. Tyler’s thrown a few looks my way and so has Trent. I’m still not sure what I did to make them mad, and I don’t want to lean on Justin and Tara the way I do, but at least I have people.

  I’m silent on the walk home. Justin holds my hand, like usual. I hate that one stupid kid at my school has the power to strip away some of what I’ve gained in my months here. I can feel anger starting to roll around inside me. Better that than fear. I’m exhausted with fear.

  “You want company today?” he asks.

  “Maybe later.” Right now I need some time alone.

  “See you.” He pulls us to a stop.

  His eyes and his touch send these waves through me. If I let my guard down around him, I’ll be in deep fast.

  “See you.” I give his hand a squeeze and walk toward the front door.

  I’m looking forward to the quiet of my room. Trent’s car is here, but so is Aunt Nicole’s.

  I step into the entry. Trent’s next to the door with yet a different girl, probably my age, maybe even younger. My jaw clenches at the sight of him.

  I make my way to the kitchen as quickly as possible, keeping my eyes on the floor.

  I steal a glance behind me as I scan the pantry for a snack.

  “So I guess I’ll see you later.” He kisses her again, in such an obnoxious way, pressing his body against hers, and pinning her against the wall.

  “Thanks, Trent. I had fun.” She sorts of glances up at him and then down and then she doesn’t seem to know where to look.

  How can he not see these signs? I need to say something, I just have no idea how to talk to him.

  The girl steps out the door and he closes it behind her. I pull a yogurt out of the fridge and a spoon out of the drawer, ready to make a run for my room if I need to. I don’t see Aunt Nicole, but he and I both know she’s here somewhere so Trent shouldn’t be too much of a jerk.

  “Hey.” He barely glances at me.

  “You should be nicer to girls,” I blurt before thinking. She’s like number four or five this year. I’m clutching my spoon and yogurt so tight my knuckles are white.

  He smiles a mischievous grin and jerks open the fridge door. “I thought I was being really nice.”

  The compulsion to speak takes over again because I’m completely annoyed that he doesn’t get the kind of pressure he’s putting her under. “Not when she only half wants to be doing what you want to be doing.”

  “How would you know that?” He turns toward me and lets out an exasperated sigh. He’s exasperated with me?.

  “Because I have a lot of practice with guys doing things to girls they don’t want!” I can’t believe my volume. I just yelled at Trent. I’m not afraid of him. My hands are tight. My breathing is shallow and hard.

  Now he’s staring. His face sort of falls.

  I let my shoulders drop when I realize how blatantly I hinted at my past. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

  “Can I ask you something?” His voice is suddenly quiet, like his dad’s.

  I wait.

  “What happened to you? Why is your mom in jail? How did you get out of there?” He’s so still. Our eyes are locked.

  “That’s kind of a long list of questions.” Where would I even start?

  We stare at each other across the kitchen for a few moments, and suddenly I want to tell him.

  “My mom was terrible to me, and she let other people be terrible to me too. The further I am from the situation, the more horrific it seems. Is that what you wanted to know?” My voice still sounds so harsh, strong. I feel a surge of pride at how forward I’m being.

  His eyebrows come together like he’s thinking about this. “Yes … no … How did it stop?”

  “Oh.” I loosen my grip on my spoon and yogurt. This I can answer. It’s the moment everything changed. Terrifying then, but now I realize those moments should have been full of hope instead of fear. “Mom was expecting something in the mail. She gave me her keys to check the box. It was one of the few things she’d let me leave the house for.”

  “Why?” His whole upper body is tilted toward me now, listening.

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t she let you leave the house?”

  “I have no idea. I’d make myself crazy if I started asking why for everything that happened to me.” That would be a horrible, never-ending cycle.

  His face is like stone. I don’t know if anything about me was real to him before now, just inconvenient because he was suddenly stuck sharing his house and his car and his parents...

  “I went out to the mailboxes and the postal worker was still putting envelopes out.” I still remember everything. Every word. Every movement. “I’d forgotten about the new burns on my arm.” I can see the two small marks, just like they happened yesterday. The smell of dust and hot air and exhaust from her truck. I almost ran back inside when I saw that the mail lady was still there, but Mom had asked me to check the mail, so I didn’t want to go back without it.

  “Burns?” His question pulls me from the memory.

  “Yeah, from cigarette ends.” I turn away from him and pull the sleeve of my T-shirt up so he can see the scars there.

  His eyes widen. “Those are all from your mom?”

  “Almost.”

  “And your dad?”

  “I don’t know who he is. If the guys Mom brought home were any indication of who he was, I don’t want to know my dad.” How am I so calm about all of this? Maybe because I can see how shocked Trent is. Maybe I’m letting him take the hurt, instead of me.

  His jaw drops. He couldn’t just believe before. He had to see and know and hear it all for himself.

  “The mail lady looked down at my arm and asked me what happened. I didn’t have a ready answer. My bruises and burns were probably one of the reasons Mom never let me leave the house.” It’s so different telling Trent about this in a place where I feel safe instead of stammering to a stranger and not knowing how to answer. “I told the woman standing there with armloads of mail where the burn came from. She asked if that was normal and I started talking and couldn’t stop.” Sort of how I’m blurting things out now. “She wouldn’t let me go home.”

  The memory is still sharply painful. I wish I could go back and tell that younger version of myself that I did the right thing.

  “The mail lady called the police and I was taken …” He doesn’t need every bit of truth. How I was locked up in a strange place while they figured out what to do with me. Questioned. Drugged up so they could examine me after I told them about Richard. “Into child services. Aunt Nicole drove down to California a few days later and picked me up. Mom was arrested and now …”

  “Now you’re here.” His voice is so quiet.

  “Now I’m here.”

  His head tilts to the side as he looks at me, and he licks his lips a few times. “Where would you b
e if we didn’t exist?”

  This is the first time I’ve seen something that looks like sympathy on his face.

  “I don’t know. I’m barely holding on to the idea that I might get to stay here. Foster home somewhere.”

  “But they wouldn’t have been able to do for you what my parents have done.”

  “No. I mean, there are some great foster homes out there. But your parents … They’re pretty awesome.” I can’t imagine not being at my aunt and uncle’s house.

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, well.” I shrug. “It’s not like we talk much.”

  His eyes shift away from mine to look out the window and then at the floor. “I probably haven’t been the most understanding.”

  “It’s okay.” Without hearing my story from me, I don’t think he’d understand.

  “You won’t have to worry about Tyler anymore. He’s just being a prick like he likes to be.” Now Trent’s eyes are on me.

  “It’s fine.” I shake my head.

  “No, Joy.” His eyes widen. “It’s not fine. Next time he bothers you, just tell him to screw off.”

  “It’s not that easy.” I swallow. When my body shakes and I can’t breathe, telling someone to screw off doesn’t seem possible.

  “Then I will.” Trent shrugs and steps closer to me. “And since we’re cool now, tell Justin to keep his hands off of you.”

  I laugh at the absurdity of his request. “What?”

  “Same rule applies to Tara.” He smirks. “No boys. We’re not nice.”

  “Yeah, Trent. I’ll remember that.” I shake my head. He’s so weird. But one conversation made us okay. Kind of cool.

  Justin and I sit cross-legged, facing each other on my living room floor. “Trent and I talked.” I open and close the small barrette in my hands for something to do.

  “How did that go?”

  “I think he’s finally starting to understand a little.” My eyes stay on my hands.

  “Understand what?”

  “What it was like to grow up as Joy. And why I’m as weird as I am.” I let my eyes find his and I smirk.

  He shakes his head. “You’re not weird.”

  “You know what’s funny?” I start with the barrette again.

  “What?”

  “His jaw dropped when I showed him the scars, and my Uncle Rob cried over the same thing, but that’s such a small part of my old life. It’s the part that bothers me the least.” I feel hollowed out, but I’m glad that he has another piece of me.

  “It’s that they can see …” Justin’s eyes are curious.

  I roll my eyes. “If you wanna see, just ask.”

  “I …” But for once, Justin doesn’t know what to say.

  I turn away from him and pull down the neck of my T-shirt so he can see my upper back.

  Instead of saying anything, his fingers softly touch the marks on my skin, weaving through the patterns, or connecting the dots. His warm hands send shivers through me.

  “So, how is this not the worst part?” he whispers.

  I let go of my T-shirt and turn to face him. “Because almost everything else that happened to me was worse.” What I’ve shared so far now feels minor. This feels huge.

  His fingers are now touching my cheek, touching my hair. The way his eyes rest on me makes me feel beautiful in that amazing way that starts inside. I have never been touched this way—like he likes me, wants me, but … He’s so soft, so gentle, and the designs he traces up my arms and across my back start a thick tingling in my stomach. For the first time since the night he kissed me, I want to try it again.

  “Dude!” Trent yells from the entry as he bursts through the door. “Keep your hands off my sister!” He laughs.

  Justin pulls away but he’s smiling.

  “Get out, Trent!” I yell back.

  “What’s going on out here?” Aunt Nicole steps in.

  “What’s going on is you’re not supervising these two.” Trent laughs again as he points at us. He pecks his mom on the cheek and jogs toward the kitchen.

  “I trust Justin.” She winks at us before turning back toward Trent. “It’s you we’re all worried about.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m back with Caitlynn.”

  Aunt Nicole’s eyebrows go up. “Oh.”

  I don’t know why this is a big deal.

  Aunt Nicole leans into the living room. “Caitlynn is Mormon and barely lets him touch her, but they’ve been close for a long time.”

  Sounds like the perfect girlfriend for worried parents.

  “You two have fun … And keep the door open.” Aunt Nicole follows after her son.

  “You’re just like one of the family now, huh?” Justin says.

  The thought overwhelms my chest and bursts inside me with happiness.

  Maybe I am.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Shopping with Daisy—enough said

  I’m relieved to know that when I shop with Daisy, holding clothes up and stretching them halfway around our bodies is just as good as trying them on. We’re in a huge store that has as many skateboards and rollerblades as clothes. Just walking around is sort of an experience in how art meets skateboarding.

  I spot white shoes that look like Justin’s and grab a pair.

  “Ohh …” Daisy points at the shoes. “Vans. Gonna art them up? Or maybe you should have Justin do it.”

  “Maybe I will.” The idea that he might do that for me … It’s personal and close and I’m sure I’m grinning like an idiot.

  “He’s a nice guy. I’m glad you two are …” She’s searching for information; it’s all over her face.

  “Close.” That’s safe. I’m learning that I don’t have to say everything to give an honest answer.

  “That’s so cute.” She wrinkles up her nose. She’s making fun, which is okay. “He’s toned down a lot over the last year or so.”

  “Oh.” I know he sort of stopped hanging with the party crowd already, but I’m still not sure what to say.

  “Did you know your aunt gave us three hundred dollars?” she asks as we continue to wander through the racks of the crowded shop.

  “Wow.” It’s so much. I didn’t pay attention. Daisy just came in like a whirlwind to see if I wanted to shop, and I stood there so stunned at her showing up that Aunt Nicole handed the money to Daisy, not me.

  “You totally scored with your aunt and uncle. Except Trent’s, like, snottier every week.”

  “Maybe because he has a different girlfriend every week,” I point out.

  “Ooh. Joy does have a mean streak in her.” Daisy flops a pile of T-shirts, hoodies, and jeans onto the counter.

  “I think Trent and I are okay now. He’s back with Caitlynn.” I look over the mountain of clothes again. “Please say that some of this is yours.”

  “Yep.” She grins. “For my personal shopper fee.”

  “Daisy!?” A girl in a teeny skirt and tight green hoodie to match the green stripe in her hair pushes into the store.

  “Reeeessa!” Daisy takes two leaping steps and throws her arms around her.

  But now the excited moment is over, and I feel like I’m watching something personal and have to turn away.

  The cashier looks away and shakes her head with a smile.

  I catch them again out of the corner of my eye. They’re not kissing but their faces are close, and I don’t know what to think.

  “Is that normal?” I whisper across the counter to the girl I don’t know.

  “For Daisy?” Her eyebrows go up. “Everything is normal.”

  Okay. Good to know. Not that I care, but never knowing what to expect makes me remember how much I don’t know about being around people.

 
; “Well, it’s easy to see who you went shopping with.” Aunt Nicole smiles as I hit the bottom step. “Does that feel better on you?”

  I look down. My jeans are a little more torn up—they came that way. I have a T-shirt from a band I’m starting to love, and my hoodie is striped inside with small thumbholes to keep my sleeves down and my hands warm. “I guess I’m also trying to figure out what’s better on me.”

  “Join the club, Joy.” She turns into the kitchen. “Every woman I know is trying to figure out what’s better on her.”

  I follow. “When Justin and I talked, he said I was Joy, the girl on a journey of self-discovery.” The memory of one of our first small moments fills me up with a warmth I’m still getting used to.

  “I really like Justin.” She pulls a glass from the cupboard. “As worried about him as I was, I think he’s been good for you.” She leans onto the counter and rests her chin on her palm.

  “Me too.” Just thinking about him makes me feel light, floaty. I flip open my phone so I can send him a text. I’d really like him to do my shoes. Maybe I could art up his next pair in trade.

  “And Joy?”

  “Yeah?” I look over my phone.

  “We’re all on a journey of self-discovery.”

  “Thanks.” So I guess some things are universal.

  Justin slides an arm loosely over my shoulders as we walk to the cafeteria.

  “Gonna let me sit with you today?” he teases.

  “Yep.” We slide into seats next to Tara’s friends, our table backing the one he normally sits at. Voices echo in the large space like always, but when I look around I wonder how this was ever overwhelming. I remember that feeling, but it’s so removed it feels foreign.

  I pull out my lunch of carrots and chips. Nicole packed a pudding, but it’s probably more for Justin than for me. Not the healthiest lunch, but snacking on finger foods is better than eating nothing. I’m pretty sure in another month I’ll think my weirdness over eating messy foods in busy places will also feel like a memory.

  Justin reaches over and takes one of my carrot sticks. Tara’s friends are huddled over Tara’s phone, probably over some Facebook drama, and Justin’s friends are cackling behind us.