In Control (The City Series)

by Crystal Serowka

  For the last three days, I’d finish tutoring, meet up with Porter, and we’d head straight to his friend Cody’s place. His parents were out of town, and his babysitter, who was his older sister, was more focused on spending time with her boyfriend than paying attention to the chaos her little brother was creating.

  The first night, there were only four of us. We hung out in Cody’s basement and passed a bottle of vodka around. The next night, there were at least ten other kids from our high school there. News must have spread about Cody’s parties, and now instead of one bottle of alcohol, there were at least five.

  “I feel like we just got here!” Porter slurred.

  If it wasn’t for the kitchen counter holding his body upright, I’m pretty sure he would have fallen over.

  “I have to get back soon. The Hendersons have been getting suspicious about what I’ve been doing after school.”

  “Kingsley,” he drawled, “do one last shot with me. Then we can go.” He wasn’t going to let it go until I did what he wanted.

  “One shot. That’s it.”

  Porter celebrated my decision by laying a kiss onto my lips. Public affection wasn’t something we usually did, but Porter was drunk, and all of the things he usually didn’t do were thrown out the window.

  Two shots later, and still, Porter begged me to do “just one more!” My stomach was burning. Sweat covered the back of my neck. Two shots weren’t enough to make me drunk, since I’d built up my tolerance, but I wasn’t in the mood for drinking, and the more I swallowed, the more my stomach fought back.

  I had fifteen minutes to get back or else I’d never be able to leave the house again. Mrs. Henderson would probably break every single bone in my body for showing up late. I wasn’t prepared to lose the tiny bit of freedom I had, so I pulled on Porter’s arm, begging him to leave.

  “Fine,” he whined. “You can be such a baby sometimes.”

  I ignored his spiteful words, struggling to support his weight as we walked down the street. Each step was like trying to climb up a mountain, and by the time we got to the corner, I thought about puking. I looked at my watch. I had ten minutes to get home. My feet had to cross the threshold at exactly 8:30 or else I’d be a goner. My backpack weighed heavy on my shoulders and my attempt at carrying Porter was failing. He lived close to Cody’s, so I was thankful that we were almost there.

  Porter continued babbling in my ear, telling me how much fun we were having.

  “This isn’t fun for me, Porter,” I confessed. I knew he wouldn’t remember me telling him this tomorrow, so I disclosed everything on my mind. “Drinking every night. Carrying you to your house. Putting on a perfect performance so that the Hendersons won’t find out what I’ve been up to after school. It’s not fun!”

  The closer we got to his house, the heavier he became. My shoulders were numb, my arms aching. I was much smaller than Porter, and having to brace him for blocks was barely manageable. We approached Porter’s front yard, and I carefully held onto his arms, making sure he was able to stand before letting him go.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. I wished I could walk him up to his bedroom, crawl into his bed with him, and share the same pillow. I wanted to be surrounded by his scent all night and make sure he didn’t get sick.

  “Yeah,” he replied, pushing away my arms. “I can fucking stand up, just let me go!” He fought his way out of my arms and stumbled up his driveway.

  I was losing him. I knew it just by the way he looked at me. There was a blankness about it, almost like he was staring at an empty wall. Tonight, when he looked at Charlotte, that’s when I really knew. The eyes that once showed me everything were now becoming absent.

  “Porter,” I said, running up to meet him. I was tempted to tell him why sometimes I couldn’t stay later at night. Why I could never take weekend trips with him and his parents. I wanted to tell him to stay with me until I turned eighteen, because then I could do everything with him. “I hope you sleep okay.”

  The words I wanted to say were shoved deep into my stomach and locked away. I could never let Porter know how unstable my home life was. I could never let anyone know. If someone were to find out the things that happened to me at the Hendersons’, I’d be sent back to the children’s home. I’d be locked inside a room and forced to listen to the other miserable cries around me. I’d be taken away from Porter.

  No one would ever find out, and I would never tell.

  I got home right on time. The moment I stepped inside, Mrs. Henderson was bounding down the stairs.

  “You’re late,” she announced.

  The tone of her voice indicated that no matter what I said, it didn’t matter. Her mind was made up. I backed into the door, reminded that it wasn’t long ago that I was hurt in this same spot.

  “It’s 8:32, Kingsley,” she said, stepping off the last step. “There’s just no excuse for you to be late.”

  She moved in front of me and raised her arm. I flinched, closing my eyes, and waited for the impact...but there was none. When I opened one eye, Mrs. Henderson was still there, but her arms were down at her side.

  “I wasn’t going to hit you,” she declared.

  Her laughter was worse than the shot of vodka I’d swallowed earlier.

  “O-okay,” I stuttered.

  “I know you’re seeing a boy, Kingsley. Jenny told me this morning that she saw you holding a boy’s hand in the hallway at school.”

  Oh no. I told Porter that I hated public affection, I told him that he couldn’t hold my hand. I knew Jenny was always watching me.

  I closed my eyes. This was it, the time I wouldn’t be able to get back up. I waited, keeping my body tense, my eyes squeezed shut, but nothing. Nothing was happening.

  “Open your eyes, Kingsley,” Mrs. Henderson ordered.

  I did as she commanded, keeping my eyes focused on her hands, refusing to look her in the eye. I watched her hands move. Scratching her leg, wiping her forehead, cracking her knuckles.

  “What is the boy’s name?”

  “There is no boy.”

  She moved her arms on each side of my body, trapping me against the door.

  “H-his name is Porter,” I confessed. I was waiting for the moment of impact. Waiting for my body to collapse onto the floor.

  Her hands went back to her sides and she smiled. This confused me. It wasn’t the reaction I prepared myself for.

  “How long have you been dating this boy?”

  One hundred and seventy days.

  “A few weeks.” My voice shook, but I was hoping she’d believe my lie.

  “Is this what you’ve been doing every day after tutoring?”

  The way Mrs. Henderson asked her questions was breaking me down. She was using her authoritative voice, the one she always used when she hurt me. I had to work overtime at keeping my answers as believable as I could.

  “No. I only see him during school.”

  She took in my answer, mulling it over in her mind. “You’re grounded. I want you to come home immediately after school. No tutoring, no helping out Mrs. Hall. Nothing. Jenny will be here to tell me what time you get your ass home every day, so don’t try anything.”

  I wanted to cry right there. My future with Porter was already uncertain, and this would only push him farther away.

  “Please,” I begged before I could stop myself. “He makes me happy.”

  “Happiness would be wasted on you,” she spit out. Her hands moved to my throat, squeezing out the last brave breaths I had. I gasped for air, but each time I struggled, her grip tightened. “You’re lucky this is your punishment,” she whispered in my ear.

  When I got down to the basement, I was still gasping for air. The skin around my neck felt raw and wet, almost like her nails left behind open wounds. I didn’t have the energy to clean the blood, so I lay down on the sheets, hoping the cold concrete would soothe my aching muscles. I didn’t know what I was going to tell Porter on Monday at school. I was supposed to go over to his hou
se tomorrow for breakfast, because that’s what I did every Saturday, but I wouldn’t be able to. Porter wouldn’t be able to call since I told him in that past that we didn’t have a landline. I’d have to find a way to at least explain to him why I couldn’t be there.

  When I drifted off to sleep, I imagined myself wrapped in Porter’s arms. His breath didn’t reek of alcohol, his stare was filled with longing. I was tangled in his embrace without any traces of bruises on my skin. Before the dream could take me, he told me he loved me and would always keep me safe.

  I woke the next morning holding onto another person’s hand. I jolted my body upward, scared to open my eyes and see who it was. No one else ever came down to the basement except for the one night it happened. I slowly peeled my eyes open and saw Drew. His tiny frame was pushed against mine and he quietly snored into the pillow. I almost cried watching the peaceful slumber. I’d never slept next to anyone, and in the years I’d been with the Hendersons, Drew had never snuck down to the basement to sleep next to me.

  “Drew,” I whispered, lightly shaking him awake.

  He peeled open his green eyes and shut them seconds later.

  “Drew, why are you down here?”

  I continued shaking him, needing him to answer. If Mr. or Mrs. Henderson discovered he was in the basement, it would be my fault, and I was already in enough trouble as is.

  “Kingsley, stop,” he whined.

  “Please, Drew. Tell me why you’re down here!” My angry tone startled him enough to open his eyes.

  “I-I missed you is all.”

  His words made me forget all about the ramifications of someone discovering him. I cradled him in my arms, whispering my apologies for not being around as much.

  “You never color with me anymore.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Drew Bear,” I apologized. Guilt filled me. I was so caught up in trying to make myself happy, I forgot all about Drew. He was the only one in this family that cared about me, and if I lost that, I wouldn’t know what I’d do.

  “I heard Mommy tell Daddy you had a boyfriend. They were arguing about it last night, and I heard Daddy tell Mommy that she should hurt you.”

  I was tempted to expose the truth to Drew, to tell him how bad his parents were and show him the evidence of their evilness, but I couldn’t. For now, Drew lived in a fairytale, and I could never take that away from him.

  “No one hurt me. Don’t worry.” I held him in my arms, aware of how badly my neck was still hurting. “I need you to go back upstairs. Your mom and dad are probably looking for you.”

  “No, they’re still sleeping,” he said.

  I listened for footsteps, but heard nothing.

  “See?” he proved with a smile on his face.

  “Fine, you can stay for a few more minutes.”

  Drew and I relaxed on the sheet and I listened as he told me about a new friend he’d made at school. I snuck him back up to his bedroom, relieved that both of the Hendersons were still asleep. Since I wasn’t allowed to make my own breakfast, I went back down to the basement, tucking myself back into bed. I was hungry, but no amount of hunger would ever make me open the kitchen cabinets again.

  My day consisted of eating the flavorless oatmeal, served to me an hour after taking Drew back into his room. After eating, I was given orders to clean the bathroom upstairs. Once the bathroom was cleaner than a hospital operating room, my next order of business was to shovel the driveway so that Mr. Henderson could leave. I didn’t understand why they wanted me to do it considering the massive amount of snow that piled the ground overnight. I threw on my warmest clothes, my winter boots, and the only hat I had to keep my ears warm.

  My body shivered as I pushed the snow onto the front lawn. I couldn’t believe that I was sweating in the freezing cold. It had to be thirty degrees out, but I was burning up. I looked down the street to where Mrs. Hall lived. I hadn’t seen her since doing her laundry that one day; I felt awful about it. I wondered if she’d asked the Hendersons where I’d been, although they hadn’t mentioned anything to me. If I wasn’t grounded, I’d go there today. Mrs. Hall gave great advice, and I bet she would have a solution for the problems I was having with Porter.

  “Kingsley?”

  My head shot up and I looked down the driveway to see Porter standing there, wrapped in his wool jacket. I dropped the shovel, running carefully down the cement to meet him.

  “You can’t be here!” I yelled, trying to grab onto his hand and force him to follow me. We needed to go to the side of the house where there weren’t windows to look out of. If the Hendersons saw Porter here, if Jenny saw him here, the punishment from last night would only get worse.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer until we were out of sight, hidden behind two large oak trees. “You can’t be here,” I repeated.

  “King—”

  I cut him off and repeated my words. “You can’t be here!”

  My grip on his wrist tightened.

  “Why can’t I be here?” he asked.

  “Please, just go home,” I said, pushing his body back toward the sidewalk.

  “Stop!” He took my wrists in his hands, stopping me from moving. “Why can’t I be here?”

  I looked into his eyes. The blue was even more beautiful when it was surrounded by snow. I was so scared in that moment, so confused by him showing up and shattering the worlds I worked so hard at keeping separate. He was never supposed to see this world, never supposed to see the shabby house I lived in or the rusted shutters that lined it. I worked so hard at presenting myself as a normal girl that if he found out the truth, he would stop loving me. I just knew it.

  “I’m not supposed to be dating,” I confessed. “If they see you here, I’ll get in trouble.”

  “You never talk about your parents. How come I’ve never met them? Why do you keep all of this hidden?” He pointed to the house.

  “They aren’t my parents!” I confessed, and immediately slapped my hand over my mouth.”

  “What?”

  “They’re my foster parents. I’m not allowed to date. You need to go!” Tears stung my eyes.

  Porter noticed how I upset I was becoming. He looked into my eyes, and even though his were still mostly absent, I saw a glimmer of the boy I fell for. “What’s scaring you so much?”

  His questions were pushing me to reveal everything I’d trapped inside. If I told him how I’d been hit at least once a day for the last two years of my life, would he pity me? If I told him that I’d tried hurting myself because I needed to see that I was human, would he think I was crazy? What if I confessed my darkest secret? Would he report Mr. Henderson to the police?

  The things that had happened in my life had deep ramifications, and as much as I longed for a chance to confess everything, I couldn’t be away from Porter.

  So I lied.

  “My foster parents are very strict, and they don’t want me dating anyone. If they found out I was with you every day, I’d be forbidden to ever see you again. They’d probably take me out of school. Porter, I don’t want that to happen.” Part of it was true. Dating someone did make me happy, and the Hendersons didn’t want that for me. I was thankful Mrs. Henderson didn’t mention anything about me not being able to see Porter. If she had, I might have confessed everything to him.

  “I figured they were strict, but geez, you can’t date anyone?”

  His confusion on the subject was understandable. His parents were understanding. They wanted their son to be happy and they trusted his judgment.

  “No, I can’t,” I said, watching as I made tracks in the snow with my boots.

  Porter reached for my gloved hand and held it in his. Even though our skin wasn’t touching, I still felt my heart turn to panic mode. It still beat fast, faster the longer he held my hand. It beat the fastest when his fingers found a way under the sleeve of my jacket and lightly grazed my wrist.

  “Do you still love me?” I whispered. The quick beats of
my heart were giving me courage to ask the question I’d been pondering for weeks. I assumed he’d moved on from loving me when his thirst for alcohol became a necessity.

  “Why would you ask me that?” His eyebrows knitted together and he scowled. “Of course I do.”

  “You’ve been pushing me away so much lately. Drinking so much, I—”

  “I thought we both liked drinking? It’s something fun we do together.”

  Fun. The word had become the opposite of the definition. The antonym of the word fun was how I saw it now. Sad, unhappy, unfun.

  “It just hasn’t been very fun lately,” I confessed.

  Porter removed his hand from my wrist and put it back into his pocket. He watched my feet move over the frozen grass. I was quickly becoming fearful of the thoughts swimming in his mind. At this point, was he wondering how fast he could run away from me and never look back? Was he wondering why he sat down on those steps that morning and asked me why I was there so early? As much as I wanted to ask him if he were going to leave me, I couldn’t, because honestly, I didn’t want to know the answer. When he looked back into my eyes, the absence returned.

  “I told you what I wanted, Kingsley. All my friends are experimenting, and if you don’t want to do that, cool, but I do.”

  He turned to walk away, but I couldn’t let him get very far. I knew by now the Hendersons were probably peeking out of the windows, wondering where I went, but I couldn’t let Porter leave like this.

  I thought back to the first day he spoke to me when I was sitting outside school drawing in my notebook. The memory seemed so long ago. He smiled at me and my whole world turned on its side. He made everything seem off balance. I walked on eggshells before that day, never testing the boundaries. He was the one who taught me how to experience life outside of what the Hendersons laid out for me. Did I want that to disappear and go through each day the same way as before?

  “I told you that I wanted to do that, and I meant it; it just takes some getting used to,” I explained. “You said you still love me, so just don’t leave me.”

  He turned back, pulling me into his chest. “There’s a party tonight. Think you can sneak out?”