AN HOUR LATER, Clinton is unloading Clayton’s bag from the cab as we stand on the curb outside of the departing flights terminal. They’ve both been joking around the entire cab ride, but Clinton filled me in on what happened with Shawna just before we piled into the car, so I’m itching to talk to him more about it. Though judging by his forced playfulness with his brother, I can tell he isn’t. I wonder if it’s one of those situations where I’ll need to let him come to me again, the same way I had to wait with his family drama last semester.
It’s not that I think racism is dead—I’d be naïve to honestly believe that. Still, I’ve never been so up close and personal to it before. Shawna seemed so into Clinton, she seemed like a down to earth chick. The fact that she let her prejudiced parents break them apart throttles me.
I can only imagine how Clinton feels.
“I think that Zeta wants me,” Clayton says with a sly grin as the cab pulls away and we make our way inside. “She gave me her phone number.”
“Oh yeah? Let me see.” I hold out my hand and Clayton places his cell phone into my palm, a number pulled up on the screen under the name Ass-tastic Jazzy. I chuckle at the name, but full on laugh when I see the number. “Oh, Baby Bear.”
“What?!” He looks alarmed, snatching the phone away like I’ve deleted the number.
“That’s the Loser Line.”
His brows tug inward over his chocolate irises. “What’s that?”
“It’s a phone number the local radio station gives out to girls so they can blow off losers. If you call that number and leave a voicemail, they’ll probably play it on the air,” Clinton explains.
Clayton narrows his eyes and snaps his fingers together. “What a minx. She’s playing hard to get.”
Clinton nudges him with a grin as I roll my eyes.
The Penningtons are something else.
We check Clayton’s bag and make our way toward security, the mood shifting. There’s something about seeing boys express emotion that really gets to me. I’ve never seen my father cry, nor have I stuck around long enough to see any of my exes cry, either. But I feel the weight of Clayton’s departure, and Clinton keeps pressing his lips together and chewing the skin next to his thumb nail, fighting back what I’m positive would be tears if he’d let them fall.
“Well, I guess this is it, little bro,” he finally says as we reach the security line. Clayton adjusts the small backpack he’s using as a carry-on over his shoulder, his eyes on his shoes. “Did you call to make sure Mom would be there to pick you up?”
“Nah, Mac’s mom is coming to get me.”
Clinton frowns. “Are you staying there again tonight?”
When Clayton twists his mouth and lifts his eyes to mine, my heart stops before he even says a word.
Uh oh.
“I’m sort of staying there every night . . .”
It takes two-and-a-half seconds for Clinton to catch on, and when he does, I watch his nose flare as his fists tighten at his sides. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t be mad,” Clayton pleads, holding his hands up. “Mac’s family is cool with it. They think of me like a son, and I’m doing chores and stuff to help out around the house.”
“Mac’s mom I understand, but I have a really fucking hard time believing our mom is okay with this.” I remember Clinton telling me over Winter Break that his mom never let him leave when he wanted to, even the time his aunt offered her spare bedroom up. His mom needs to feel in control of her kids’ lives, no matter how dangerous that may be.
“Well, I wouldn’t know.”
Clinton and I exchange questioning glances. “What do you mean, Baby Bear?” I ask.
He sighs, his dark fingers fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. “She never came home in December. Neither did Carleton.”
Shit.
Clinton’s anger disappears as all emotions drain from his face. It’s the palest I’ve ever seen him. “Are you telling me you’ve been living with Mac since December and you haven’t told me?” Clayton doesn’t dare answer and I don’t dare move. I’m almost afraid to breathe.
For a moment, Clinton just nods, short little nods as his eyes scan the airport, looking everywhere but at Clayton. He chews the insides of his lips and I see the wheels spinning.
“I’m coming home with you. Right now.”
“No!” Clayton yells at the same time as I grab Clinton’s arm.
“Bear, just relax a second.”
“Skyler,” he warns and I pull my hand away. He turns his attention back to his brother. “I’m coming. End of story.”
“Please, don’t.” Clayton’s eyes brim with tears, his age showing more than it has all weekend. I keep forgetting he’s only thirteen. That realization only makes my heart ache more. “You’re the only one in our family who has their shit together. I can’t wait to get out of Pittsburgh and be with you. If you come home and throw this semester away, you’ll fall back and have to take extra classes to catch up or stay another year, and that’s if you even ever come back. I don’t want that for you, for me, for either of us.”
“I’m not going to let you live by yourself. Without a mom, without any fucking family.”
“I have a family,” he pleads. “Mac and his sister and their parents. They make dinner every night, did you know that? I didn’t think anyone did that anymore.” He smiles, his eyes still glossy, his movements animated as he tries to make his big brother see his side. “And we play video games and go do fun things on the weekend. There’s no smoke in the house, no drugs, no fighting.”
Clinton crosses his arms, still staring somewhere behind his little brother. Suddenly, his eyes grow wide. “Where are the boys?”
I snap my attention back to Clayton, the realization that Carleton has two sons hitting me as hard and fast as it hit Clinton.
“They’re with Tara. They’re okay, she’s taking care of them. I see them on the weekends.”
Clinton exhales a breath, letting me know it’s okay I do the same. I think Tara is the mom, but I’m not sure. My eyes find Clinton again. Noting his steadier breathing, I take the opportunity to give my input.
“Bear, he’s right. You can’t just leave Palm South. I know this isn’t easy to hear, but look at Clayton.” I point in his direction. “He’s fine. He’s better than fine.”
“I should be there for him.”
“You are,” Clayton emphasizes. “By being here and being the man I hope to be, you’re there for me. That’s what I need from you right now.”
I nod, still not believing how wise Clayton is for such a young kid. “Listen, let’s plan a trip home to see him this summer. You can see where he’s staying and if you decide then that it’s not good enough, then you can stay. I won’t even ask you twice to come back.” The words sting as they leave my lips, but I know they’re necessary. Clinton needs to hear that he has options, especially when it comes to the last family member he really cares about.
“I’ll have Mac’s mom call you as soon as I get home so you can talk. She’s been wanting me to tell you.”
“But you didn’t,” Clinton throws back.
“And this is why.”
Clinton shakes his head, his arms still tight over his chest. When his eyes turn to mine, they ask me for permission I’m not sure I can really give. But I smile, giving a short nod to let him know I think it’s okay—and truly, I do.
Blowing out a long breath, he pulls his little brother into him and crushes his arms around the smaller version of himself. They hold each other tight and I lean in long enough to ruffle Clayton’s curls.
“I’ll give you two a minute. Catch you later, Baby Bear. Don’t grow up too much before I see you again.”
“Afraid you’ll want to date me, Sky?”
Clinton finally laughs and I just shoot Clayton a wink before excusing myself. I wait on a small bench as they say their goodbyes, pretending to look through my phone, though I’m too aware of the moment being shared between t
hem to really do anything else. After a while, Clinton makes his way back toward me and I stand to meet him, his eyes still not meeting mine.
Clayton waves at us once more as he hands his ID to the TSA agent and Bear sighs. Sliding my hand into his, I lean my head on his shoulder and he tightens his grip around my fingers.
“Everything is falling to shit, Skyler.”
I kiss his arm, squeezing his hand just once. “We’ll get through it together. We always do.”
He peeks down at me, the smallest smile curving over his lips as he tucks me under his arm. When Clayton finally disappears from view on the other side of security, Clinton pulls me all the way into him, his large frame folding into me. He doesn’t sob, but he clutches me tight, using me to steady himself.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he finally whispers, sniffling as he straightens once more. The left side of my mouth quirks up and I tug him toward the exit.
“Ditto, Bear. Ditto.”
MY EYES ARE CLOSED, the sand cold on the back of my thighs as I face the ocean and listen to the waves crashing on the beach. They’re not gently rolling in tonight, they’re slapping the wet sand, rolling over one another in a race to meet their demise. I don’t see or hear her take her place in the sand next to me. I just feel her. Our souls are at war right now, and it’s as if my entire body is set on alert just from her nearness.
“How’d you find me?” I finally ask with a sigh. It’s not like the beach is a normal place for me to go when I need to get away, that’s more Skyler’s thing than mine. I’m usually at the gym or, when I danced, at the studio. Even now as I try to find solace in the quietness of the beach at night, I’m mostly annoyed by the sand sticking to my ass and the salt water spritzing my hair.
“Bo told me,” Jess answers, her voice quiet. She’s sober.
“I’m surprised she’s even talking to you.”
She offers a short laugh and I open my eyes, letting them land on where her fingers are tracing the sand. “I’m not sure that ‘fuck off’ counts as talking.”
“So she didn’t tell you?”
“She didn’t have to. I saw the sand on her feet and guessed. Or hoped, rather.”
I’m torn between the urge to cry and the overwhelming want to slap her hard across the face. Before Bo, Jess was my best friend in the sorority. I thought she still was. Yes, things have been tired and tense between us since my situation all started last semester, but I never questioned that she would ever hurt me. Now I don’t just feel blindsided, but I feel betrayed, too.
“Are you two okay?” Jess asks, and I can tell the question feels strange on her lips.
I shrug, picking up a small shell and using it to carve through the soft sand. My heart aches as I ask myself to answer her question honestly. Bo was just here, maybe two hours ago, and as much as I want us to be okay, we’re not. Not even close.
“She’s hurt. She’s scared. The website hit her hard and this . . . you nearly killed her.”
Jess swallows, pulling her knees up and tucking her hands under her thighs. “I am so, so sorry, Lei. I know that’s not enough. It wasn’t enough when I told Bo tonight, either, and I’m not really asking for forgiveness. I’m just letting you both know that I regret what I said and how I said it and if I could take it all back, I would. But I can’t. So, I’m sorry. And I hope that in time, I can earn back your trust. Both of you.”
I don’t look at her yet, I can’t. I just nod along with her words, tears blurring the line where the light sand meets the dark water. I’m waiting for it—the but—the part where she says it’s my fault she exploded the way she did. In a way, I sort of agree with her. In another way, I think she’s completely full of shit.
After a few moments of silence, I get impatient. Pulling my knees in to mirror her, I finally turn my head, resting my cheek on my knees and connecting my eyes with hers. I find more remorse there than I thought I would. “But?”
Jess breathes out slowly. “No buts. I was wrong.”
“Yes you fucking were,” I spit out, my voice shaky as the tears break down my cheeks. Her lip quivers, too, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain, pulling my arms up to my knees and burying my head between them. Sobs rack my body as the waves rack the shore and I cry with them, both of us losing a part of ourselves, both of us struggling to begin once again.
Hesitantly, Jess’ hand touches my back. She waits, ready for me to jerk away, but when I don’t, she pulls me flush against her and I cry harder.
“Shhh,” she whispers, her fingers running through my hair. She’s crying, too. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re right, I have been hiding Jarrett from you—from all of you. I saw you and Bo kiss at formal and instead of being an adult and asking you to talk to me about it, I figured two could play that game. So we’ve been shutting each other out for months now, seeing who could be the most secretive. But I don’t want to play anymore, Lei. I love you. I miss my best friend.”
“I miss you, too,” I cry, my hands fisting in her loose t-shirt. My ribs ache with the force of my sobs but I let them hurt me. I let it all sink in.
“Ashlei, let me in. I know there’s more you’re battling with. I’ve known it since last semester. First, I pushed you, but you kept it all locked away. So then I gave up asking, and then I saw the Bo thing and I just got so angry. I’m sorry I did that, I wasn’t a good sister. But I’m here, right now, and I can help you—with whatever is happening. But you have to let me in, first.”
I think I understand why Skyler goes to the ocean when she’s struggling, now. It feels like a place where you can be reborn—where you can change. The only person I’ve let in is Bo, and I haven’t even let her all the way in. I’ve been so set on handling it on my own, afraid of what everyone would think of me, afraid of being a failure. But now, the website has already done that for me. Some of my sisters are judging me, the entire campus has seen me at my most vulnerable, and no matter what happens to the asshole who videotaped us, I’ll never have that peace of mind back again. Our secret was no longer ours to keep after that night. And no matter how I try to avoid Xavier, I have to face him eventually—soon. I may not have been ready to come out as a bisexual yet, but that wasn’t even my biggest demon. Xavier is.
Wouldn’t it be easier to face him if I weren’t alone?
Straightening, I wipe my nose against my bare wrist and pull my eyes to Jess’. I inhale a shaky breath that doesn’t quite reach my ribs and then, with her hand squeezing mine, I tell her everything. I tell her about pole dancing, how much I loved it, how much I miss it now because of a stupid decision I made with a stupid boy. I tell her about getting shoved out of the car and waking up that night, realizing I was making a mistake, but I was too late. Jess still holds tight to my hand, not an ounce of judgement in her eyes.
I tell her about the first payment, how I lied to my parents, how I let Bo help me and we thought we figured it out together, but then Kya showed up and blew up my entire world. Every word leaves me feeling more broken and somehow fixable at the same time.
I can’t look at her when I tell her I did dance for money—once—just enough for me to realize I couldn’t do it. I still can’t lift my eyes to hers as I tell her about the deals I made with the devil—the payments, the stolen money from our auction, how I asked him to hit me, how I sold drugs on Spring Break. By the time I’m completely caught up, telling her how I lost over a third of the money I owe him and I know any day now he’s going to give up trying to call me and send someone to bring me to him, I can’t place how I feel. Relieved? Terrified? I’m not sure.
I don’t know how long I’ve been talking. My voice is scratchy, my throat sore, my eyes puffy. Jess’ hand is still firmly holding mine.
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I whisper, shaking my head as my eyes stay fixed on our hands. “I’ve tried for so long to figure this out on my own. I was afraid of the judgement, afraid of the consequences. I was so ruled by fear that I kept digging deeper and de
eper into a hole I fell into accidentally but stayed in by choice.” Realization hits me like a freight train. “This is my fault, Jess. This is all my fault.”
“Hey,” she says as I start to cry again, her free hand finding my chin. She lifts my head, but I keep my eyes shut. “Look at me, Lei.”
Shaking my head, I force a breath and finally crack my eyes open, her blurred face coming into view slowly.
“It’s okay. Do you hear me?” She leans in closer, her chocolate eyes connecting hard with mine. “It is okay.”
It’s like those words are all I’ve been wanting for months now, I just didn’t know I needed them. I didn’t know what to even ask for. Now that she’s said it, my heart finally realizes.
I just want to be okay.
“I wish you would have come to me sooner, Lei. I can’t believe you’ve been going through this on your own.” She hugs me close to her chest again and I wrap my arms around her shoulders.
Sniffling, I stare out into the dark ocean, feeling better but not saved yet. “Jess, what am I going to do? He’s going to come looking for me. He’s killed people before.” I choke on the words, gripping her shirt between my fingers. “He could kill me.”
Everything is heavy—the air, my arms, those words. Jess peels me off of her and frames my arms with her hands, holding me tight, forcing my eyes to hers. Though the mascara stains under her eyes and her body shakes with mine, she no longer looks remorseful or sad. She looks determined—fierce—the Jess I know slowly rising to the surface again. Her eyes narrow, her lips pursed, and slowly, she nods.
“I have a plan.”
Don’t forget to tweet about episode 5 using #PalmSouth and join the Facebook Discussion Group here.
Palm South University: Season 2, Episode 6
Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband, Ryan Steiner. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.
Palm South University: Season 2, Episode 5 (Palm South University #2) Page 4