Taming of the Shoe

by Rebekah Dodson

  “Where do you want me to drop you off?” I asked instead of dealing with my inner turmoil. I’d been mostly pushing it away for four months, what was another few days?

  She was still staring at the phone. “In front of the house is fine. Papa’s still out with his veteran buddies.”

  “’Kay.” I couldn’t help but let my shoulders slump. I wanted to spend all day with her, and we’d only been out about two hours. Oh well, there was always tomorrow.

  It seemed like I blinked, and we were already at her house. I pulled to a stop, but she didn’t get out immediately. Instead, she looked around, and turned to me. “You’re a good kisser,” she whispered, wringing her hands in her lap.

  Usually I’m not terrible at reading signals, but when it came to Taylor, she was all over the place. She looked at me and I leaned over and kissed her again. She hooked a hand around the back of my head and pulled me, and before I knew it, she was leaning against the window with me nearly on top of her. In broad, freaking daylight.

  Oh well, wouldn’t be the first time.

  Suddenly, her door was ripped open and she toppled out of the front seat right onto her ass. “Ow!” she yelped. “What the...”

  “Taylor Elizabeth Berm, you get your rear end in the house right now!”

  Her papa – I had forgotten his actual name – stood there, looking every bit the military veteran he was, with his hands clasped behind him. He side-stepped quickly as Taylor scrambled to her feet and rushed in the house, the front door slamming behind her. I couldn’t hardly watch her. The bright red, angry face of her papa was going to haunt me at some point.

  Placing one hand on the top of my car, he leaned in and barked at me, “And you, young man, what do you think you’re doing? How dare you let my granddaughter in this car? And then presume to defile her before the eyes of God?”

  “Sir, I...” I held up my hands off the steering wheel. “It was just a kiss...”

  He slammed his fist on the hood of my car and I jumped. “I don’t care for your excuses. I know what kind of kid you think you are, and I know better. I’d better not see you, or your car, on this street ever again or I will call the police!”

  “Y-yes, sir,” I mumbled, gripping the wheel as tight as I could. Thankfully, he slammed the door and I was free to pull away from the curb. He rattled me so bad I hit the gas too hard and my tires squealed.

  Great, now he really thinks I’m a lousy kid, I groaned to myself.

  By the time I got back to my house across town, I managed to calm myself down enough to lock my car door without shaking the keys too much.

  When I got in the house, my mother was right where I left her – cooking over the stove. Amy was watching TV in the living room, and my father was who knows where. I could smell and hear the marinara bubbling softly in a pan as well as hear the slight sizzle of the eggplant frying. My stomach rumbled as I approached her to see if I could steal a piece from the pan. Most kids hated eggplant, but me? I loved it. My mother started Meatless Mondays a while ago to cut down on food costs, and I loved it, but she hadn’t done it in a while and we’d been on our own, Amy and me. It had turned into Meatless Weekend, and I wasn’t going to complain. My mother usually only cooked on Saturdays now because she was so busy all week.

  But what wasn’t normal was the way she let me pluck a steaming hot piece of fried eggplant from the pan without protesting. In fact, she turned away from me and wiped at her face and then sniffled.

  “Mom? You okay?” I asked tentatively.

  “Yeah, fine.” She sniffled again as she said it.

  She didn’t sound fine. Not at all. Her voice sounded raw, like she’d been crying. I knew a lot of girls that cried at school, especially the ones that cried before choir, so I knew exactly what that sounded like. But what could I do about it? Whatever bothered my mom, I didn’t think she was going to tell me, especially not in front of Amy. Maybe something happened at work and she was a little stressed. It happened sometimes, especially lately.

  “Okay.” I didn’t know what to say. “Call me when dinner’s ready.” I turned while I snacked on the burning hot stolen treat.

  As soon as I got to my room, I checked my phone. No text from Taylor. I wondered if she’d had her phone taken away. That would suck for both of us.

  I had a test on Monday to study for, but no matter how much I tried, it was hard to get our kisses out of my head. Plural. She’d let me hold her hand and kiss her.

  Damn, what was this girl doing to me?

  Chapter 10

  Taylor

  This weekend had been the most torture I’d ever experienced since coming to the States. After being ripped from Ethan’s car, Papa spent the entire fifteen-minute drive to church giving me a lecture of literally biblical proportions, where Papa drilled me about the dangers of boys. Between Sunday school and Wednesday services, I had heard the lecture before a million times before: boys only wanted one thing between your legs, and nothing else. Despite the lecture Papa was giving me, we were late for church, which basically meant baking donuts and other breakfast goods for the Sunday morning service. Four long hours later, when we got back, after an awkwardly silent car ride devoid of any music whatsoever, Papa sauntered into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee – he drank coffee all day, every day – and made a cup of peppermint tea for me.

  Papa pulled a chair out opposite me with his coffee cup. “I know you think he’s different, Tay, but trust me: boys are all the same. They only want one thing, and you know what that is...”

  “I wish you would understand Ethan’s different,” I tried to protest. I swiveled the steaming mug in front of me at the little table that only sat two in our small kitchen. I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying, I asked him to kiss me, you know. If Papa knew that, he’d tell me I was nothing better than a common harlot. I knew it. So I kept my mouth shut.

  “I don’t want you seeing him anymore.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes, but instead I sat up straighter in an effort to be respectful. “Well, I have to see him at school.”

  “Don’t you have other friends?” He paused. “Female friends?”

  “Yes...”

  “Well, spend time with them.”

  “Papa...”

  He stood and pushed his chair in. “It’s time for your prayers and bed. And just to make sure you’re not texting that boy I’m going to keep your phone for tonight.”

  Now I did roll my eyes. “Seriously? I have a test Monday. I need to text Callie...”

  He held his hand out and closed his fist a few times. “Hand it over.”

  I reached into the pocket of my skirt and handed it over. I felt like crying; I worked so hard to earn that phone and now he was going to take it away?

  He took my phone and tucked it in the front pocket of his blue slacks. “You can have this back on Monday morning.”

  I crossed my arms and hmphed at him. I looked away and blinked. If he saw me crying, I’d have another lecture, so it was safer to hold it in.

  “Taylor, look.” He refilled his coffee mug and leaned against the counter. “When your mother said you needed to come and stay here to get away from all that, what do you guys call it? Drama? Well, whatever happened in Germany...I didn’t ask questions. I just bought your plane ticket and didn’t even worry about it. And you’ve been so good and responsible for the last three weeks. But boundaries are important, and what kind of man of God would I be if I didn’t help raise you into a respectable Christian young lady?”

  I gritted my teeth and refused to look at him. What if I hate everything about that? What if I don’t want to be respectable anymore? I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I wished I could. Instead of answering him, I pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m going to bed.” I rounded the table and gave him a hug, and then padded down the hall to my bedroom.

  I knew I needed to study, but I couldn’t concentrate. It was only eight in the evening, but I was exhausted. I lay awake, remembering
skipping rocks and kisses. It was a good memory to fall asleep to.

  * * *

  Sunday, I trudged through Sunday school and morning and evening services, just hoping the day without my phone would fade as quickly as possible. I went through all the motions of church and communion, hoping it would be over as soon possible. We were invited to have lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Washington, both veterans that knew my Papa well. We had ham and potatoes, and it was good, but their house reeked of mothballs and menthol cigarettes.

  When night rolled around, I tried studying until I fell asleep, but my brain buzzed with math and German and I couldn’t focus. I finally curled up in bed and wished I had MovieFlix to watch with Ethan. It was the first time in the last week that I didn’t get to read his goodnight text. I may have cried a little.

  Just as promised, on Monday morning, Papa left my phone on the table.

  As I reached for it, Papa stopped me. “I went through your phone and deleted all your numbers, except for Callie and a few friends at church and your mother.”

  I gaped at him for a minute. He went through my phone? I wracked my brain trying to think if Ethan and I had said anything bad, other than joking about my movies and making fun of the rude girls at school.

  “I didn’t read any of them,” Papa blurted as if he could tell what I was thinking. “I just factory reset your phone. The rules are I’ll be checking your phone every night before bed, just to make sure you aren’t talking to that boy.” He peered at me over his coffee mug as he took a swig. “Got it?”

  I couldn’t do anything but nod and inhale deeply to keep the tears away. Talking to Ethan whenever I wanted was gone. Watching movies with him at night and laughing at bad makeup and costumes? Forget that. Any plans I had to get more smoothies with him and stroll around the park? Nope.

  My chest heaved and I tucked my phone away and shoved a smile on my face. The walk to school was longer than it had ever been.

  I’d always been terrible at keeping my feelings hidden, and my first period class with Angelica was not helping things. As soon as I took my seat, she pounced on me, walking by my desk and casually knocking my notebook to the floor.

  “What’s up, cutter?” she snickered as she went to join her minions in the back row.

  I gasped and sat up straight. My eyes welled up with tears, but I wiped them away. How does she know? Why does she hate me so much? What did I ever do to her?

  As Ms. Henrys started our English lesson, I could hear Angelica and her little lacky, Susanna, stifling giggles behind me. They were sharing a phone around and people were looking at something on it. A few boys in the class next to me took her bright pink phone, looked at it, then stared at me and started to giggle.

  “Just what is going on here?” Ms. Henrys turned to face the class. “Whose phone is that?” She strode forward as quick as she could and snatched it from the boy sitting to my right. She turned it over to look at the screen but frowned. “Hmm, it’s locked.” She waved it high and said, “Whoever’s phone this is, you can retrieve it from my desk after class.”

  I heard Angelica’s familiar, ugh, and the class settled down after that.

  I just knew it was something about me. But what could it be? Who knew about ... what happened?

  And what if Ethan found out?

  I wasn’t sure what he’d think, but he’d hate me for it, I was sure. Maybe.

  I somehow survived English and German, with a few students giggling and looking at me like they did in English.

  I felt my stomach turn into knots by the end of class. What was going on?

  Callie noticed during science class something was wrong. And apparently, she saw the photo going around about me. We made it through our lab, but then she pulled me into the bathroom as soon as the bell rang. We stood huddled in the handicapped bathroom, me on the toilet and her standing front of me.

  “Taylor, what is going on? Have you seen this picture going around? Are you okay?”

  I pressed my palms to my legs and burst into tears. “I haven’t,” I blubbered, “but Angelica started it, I-I think. I have no idea what she...” I snagged toilet paper off the roll and blew my nose. “How did she find out...”

  Callie sat on the floor with her legs crossed under her. She was frantically scrolling through her phone and her face fell as her finger slowed down. “Oh, Tay. I’m so sorry. Angelica is a mean bitch, but I didn’t think she’d go this far.”

  “What?” I managed, and Callie turned the phone around

  Under a social media page titled, “Taylor Berm is a Cutter” was a collage of pictures of me – getting tripped in the cafeteria, singing in the choir, and then as Callie scrolled down, I saw it. The picture.

  Even worse, it had been shared directly from my mother’s social media profile.

  I threw my hands over my mouth and gasped as the tears streamed down my cheeks. “Oh, oh no. She didn’t.” I struggled to stand. “I – I gotta go home. I can’t be here another minute. I can’t go to choir and see her knowing she...”

  Callie stood and pulled me into her arms. “I’ll go with you to the office to call your papa. I got time before prayer group before lunch.”

  I inhaled and patted my eyes again, hoping my mascara wasn’t running too bad. We exited the bathroom just as the lunch bell rang, ushering everyone to the cafeteria. We headed the opposite direction to the front office.

  And ran into Ethan.

  “Taylor!” He stepped forward like he was going to hug me, but then froze. “Are you okay?”

  My mascara must have run a little. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m going home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I pushed past him, and Callie followed.

  “Wait up!” He trailed behind us. “What’s going on? I keep hearing about this picture. I was trying to find you...”

  I stopped and so did Callie. I wasn’t sure if she could read my mind, but if she could, now was the time. I shook my head, hoping she could see what I was thinking: Don’t show him. He’ll hate me. He’ll hate me forever.

  “If someone is bullying you, I want to know,” Ethan insisted, softer this time, “so I can beat their ass.”

  Callie looked at me and I finally nodded, wiping at my eyes again. I won’t cry in front of Ethan. I won’t cry in front of Ethan. But he’s so protective... I motioned him into the narrow home economics aisle to the left of the office where we could have some privacy.

  Callie turned her phone so he could see it, and I watched his green eyes grow wide, and then narrow. His jaw worked side to side and his fists balled at his side. “Is that y-you, Taylor?”

  I’d never seen the picture before Callie showed me, but I recognize the blue tile of my bathroom in Germany any day. It was me, all right, there was no denying that, nor could I forget the day I’d stained most of the tile red. I never looked at it long enough, but at some point my mother had included some text when she posted it about how God can turn anyone around.

  Great, my mother had posted me dying in a bathtub just to brag about how God was awesome.

  God wasn’t very awesome when I ran an Xacto blade over my wrists back in November.

  I nodded quickly. “I think ... I think my mother took it. About six months ago.”

  “Who did this?” He looked between us. “Who would post something like this?”

  “Angelica,” Callie added. “At least, that’s who we think did it, since she’s the one that started it in first period.”

  “But why?” I tried not to whine, but I was barely keeping it together. I also wanted to do something ... bad to her. What, I didn’t know. “Why would she do this to me?”

  Ethan sighed and slumped back against the locker. “Probably because she knows we were together on Saturday. I saw her car at the park when we pulled up, but when we got back to the car it was gone, so I thought it was another red convertible.”

  “What does she care if you guys hang out?” Callie protested, looking between us. She gasped a little. “All right, what aren’t you guys te
lling me? What exactly did you guys do on Saturday?”

  Ethan looked so uncomfortable. I was going to tell Callie, eventually, but without my phone this weekend I hadn’t had a chance to talk to anyone, least of all her.

  “We kissed,” Ethan blurted finally, and I stared at the floor. “What if Angelica saw it?”

  “I’m missing something,” I admitted finally. “Why does she care, like Callie said?”

  Callie sucked in a breath and looked at Ethan before she turned to me. “Angelica is Ethan’s ex. It was last year, but still...”

  “And it lasted precisely two days before she annoyed the fuck out of me,” Ethan admitted, “and we made out, like, once.”

  “Ew, don’t tell me.” I waved him away. I could feel a headache creeping up the back of my neck. “Just...I’m going home. I’ll talk to you both tomorrow.” I turned to leave the hallway.

  “Aren’t you going to report this?” Ethan followed me, and I was sure Callie was right behind him.

  “To who?” I didn’t even bother looking at him. “It’s a stupid picture. Who’s going to care?”

  “I care,” Ethan muttered, and he snatched Callie’s phone from her hand.

  “Hey!” Callie yelled, but Ethan jogged in front of us and got to the office first.

  By the time I caught up with him, he was showing the picture to the receptionist, who immediately was calling over the counselor, Mr. Graves.

  “Who is sharing this around? Where did you see this?” Mr. Graves was also a football coach, so he was easily six-five and at least three hundred pounds. An imposing figure that scared me for sure.

  “Angelica,” Ethan told him. “She’s the one to blame for this.”

  “Hmm. She’s a good student, usually. If you’re right, she’ll be facing suspension for this.”

  “I hope so,” I muttered.

  “Are you going to question her?” Callie piped up.

  “Is this your phone?” Mr. Graves asked Callie. She nodded. He asked her to email him screenshots, and she agreed. We all thanked him, and after he went back to his office, Callie excused herself to go to her study group and pulled me into a hug before she left. Ethan hung around awkwardly, but I was glad for it.