Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3)

by Jenn Cooksey

  Overreacted. Kind of an understatement if you ask me.

  Regardless of what Camie said though, I know that guy was interested in her last night. He might’ve changed his tune when he witnessed what a train-wreck she is right now, but I’d be willing to bet if she hadn’t flipped out like that, he would’ve put more effort into it.

  “Humph. Is she gonna call him?” I asked, thinking that maybe she should. If he was cool enough to just listen and offer unbiased support to a chick he doesn’t even know, then he can’t be all bad. I mean, his game is all bad, but it might be good for her to get some separation on all this shit. Hell, I’m even thinking of asking her for the guy’s number…

  “Here, get the other side,” Katy directed as she pulled one side of the comforter up and started to tuck it under the pillows. “I don’t know, I didn’t get that far…she had to go. Her dad is taking her out for another pre-driver’s test testdrive.”

  “Think she’ll pass this time?” Poor Camie. I know I like to make fun of her for stuff like this, because it really is pretty fuckin’ comical, but the chick’s been through the wringer this past week, you know? First her boyfriend—who’ll remain nameless for right now because if I think about him even a little bit, I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it again—dumps her on her birthday, then she finds out her mom’s cancer that they all thought was in remission actually isn’t and that it spread when she comes home all sick and shit after having a surgery that removed most of her colon, then she fails her driver’s test, and then there’s last night and all the rest of the shit with her now ex-boyfriend. It’s a wonder the girl can even spell her own name right now.

  “I don’t know…” Katy answered and then sighed. Aw goddamnit; I know that sigh. She’s gonna start talking at me. “Jeff, I know you don’t wanna talk about last night, but I do…what did you say to Pete before he hit you? I mean, I couldn’t really hear from where I was, but I was watching and he was definitely leaving. Whatever you said really, really pissed him off.”

  Yeah, no shit. Pete doesn’t get pissed like that. Not that I’ve ever seen…not off a baseball field anyway. There was one time a batter rushed the mound, which completely pisses him off, and Pete cleaned his clock but good; I honestly expected to see little cartoon birdies flying around the guy’s head. Anyway, I’ll be one hundred percent honest here; it shocked the shit out of me when he actually punched me. He didn’t even hesitate a millisecond and before I even knew he’d hit me, I was on my ass. It was like getting struck by lightning…it was that fast. It was also that hard…my ears only stopped ringing a couple hours ago. The thing is, I don’t know what I said that made him do it.

  “Katy, I’ve been over that like a zillion times starting when my ass cheeks hit the grass, and I still have no idea what I said that pissed him off so much. Honestly, when I asked him if he knew what fuckface had done, he said something like ‘I know what he didn’t do,’ which makes no fucking sense whatsoever. So I called him on that and compared him to Jillian, except I think I called her a bitch or something, I’m not sure though because that was when he hit me. The only thing I can think is that…fuck, I don’t know what to think. Maybe he just got fed up with me running my mouth.” That’s a very real possibility…Pete’s not a fan of people talking shit. He doesn’t even especially like it when his catcher does it to a batter and that’s part of what a good catcher will do. You know, get inside a batter’s head and fuck with them so they don’t hit well. “He said it was a wakeup call and that I needed to realize shit isn’t what it looks like.”

  “He called Camie Tristan’s girlfriend…” Katy said quietly.

  “Out of habit. He misspoke, Katy.”

  “Yeah, you’re right…but um, everything else he said…you know, about you eventually waking up, Tristan trusting you again…things not being what they appear to be…I just…it makes me wonder if there’s something we don’t know. I mean, don’t you think we should be asking ourselves the big question why? Why didn’t he tell you what happened, why did he disappear, why didn’t he fight back last night, and why are Pete and Jillian on his side?”

  “All good questions, Katy, so when you figure out the answer to any of ‘em, lemme know.”

  Why indeed. The one that’s really been getting to me is why Jillian isn’t backing her own sister…

  8.

  Monday, Week Two

  One person’s trash is another’s treasure ~ Pete

  What fresh hell is this?

  That was what I was thinking when I heard the door open and looked up to see Camie slam it and then start to tear into Jillian. Jillian turned the table on her sister relatively quickly, but it took me a minute to even figure out what they were arguing about. I’d missed something important in between the time they left school together when their dad picked them up so he could take Camie for another shot at her license and now, but Jillian’s a smart cookie. Knowing I was gonna be lost, she phrased her argument in a way that would catch me up pretty well.

  Here’s how it started; Jillian opened her bedroom door and looked pretty much like she always does, but Camie was hot on her tail and she looked irate. Then she slammed the door and I saw Jillian stiffen.

  “What the fuck, Jillian?! Why?! Why did you do that to me? Why did you say that to him?!”

  “Say what?”

  “That Tristan’s been “sick” and that’s why he hasn’t been around! And! And you told Dad he’s getting better so he’ll be coming over here! Jesus, Jillian! You heard Dad, now he’s looking forward to seeing him!”

  “Tell me, sister of mine, how do you think telling Dad your version of the situation would go over?”

  “Oh my God…you’re unbelievable! You and I both know that you don’t know everything and it’s obvious that you don’t know what it’s like to love someone so much you feel like you’ll stop breathing without him because if you did, you’d know that lying to Mom and Dad is only gonna make it harder for me and it’s bad enough as it is! For the love of God, I have one run-in with him at lunch and I fail my fucking driver’s test! Twice! I have to get over him! I can’t do that with him hanging out in the garage with Dad! Goddamnit, Jill, you’d think you’d get that!”

  “Sometimes I wonder how we’re even related. How Mom and Dad could have a child born to them who is so stupid and self-centered that all she thinks or cares about is how things affect her. A child who wouldn’t ever consider doing something for someone else if there wasn’t something in it for her…and you know what, right now I’m ashamed to admit that we share the same blood.”

  Jillian’s smack down had the desired effect on Camie; she looked as if Jillian had literally slapped her across the face. Actually, I think being slapped would’ve been easier to take. That was huge. I have sisters and, yeah, before they moved out we fought all the time and I’m sure they thought it because it crossed my mind a time or two, but never did we say anything to each other like what Jillian just said to her sister. It wasn’t very far from saying something like, “You know, Mom and Dad said they regret the day you were born.”

  When Camie just stood there in shock, Jillian started in on her again, but this time she included a bit of kindness with her tone. “Camie, don’t be so ignorant. First of all, think about the implications of telling them Tristan broke up with you. You know they’ll wanna know why and knowing you, you’ll break down and tell them the same thing you told Kate, Jeff, and Melissa. Then what happens when you and Tristan get back to—”

  “We are not getting back together! He can go straight to h—”

  “Yeah, whatever. Neither of them will ever really trust him again which leads me to point two. Has it occurred to you that Mom and Dad have enough crap to worry about? Literally? Mom’s colostomy bag leaked all over the place last night, did you know that? Not to mention that Dad has to leave her and go to work everyday, which just about kills him to do as it is but to top it off, he has to leave her in the care of a nurse, a complete stranger, because Mom is so debilitated th
at she can’t take care of herself yet, she can’t even stand up for very long. Then Dad comes home everyday to his wife who’s in pain and on a bunch of drugs that make her loopy, lethargic and sick. And you wanna add to all his stress and at the same time, take away his one escape, his one opportunity to relax with someone and pretend that his life doesn’t blow as hard as it does right now. Do you remember when Tristan started coming around here everyday and what that did for Mom and even more so for Dad? The bond they forged has nothing to do with you, Camie. Dad needs Tristan. He’s Dad’s friend and he’s cancer free. Do you really want to take that away from your father?”

  “N—no. I don’t. I—I just never thought of it like that, but—”

  “And not that you care, but you’d be taking something more than yourself away from Tristan too.”

  “Jill, he’s the one who did that, not me…and Tristan doesn’t care about me, let alone our family.”

  I thought Jillian was gonna rip her hair out in frustration talking to Camie, who is being so seriously dense and stubborn at the moment that I even wanted to scream and shout and pull my own hair out, but I kept quiet because I wasn’t sure how high Jillian had the volume up and it’s not the time for me to rock the boat. Obviously.

  “You are such an idiot. You know what, get out…get out of my room. Oh and take your trash with you.”

  I was jolted right along with Camie when Jillian unzipped her backpack and pulled out the unopened birthday present Tristan had given to Camie before this whole nightmare started and tossed it to her. Hands down, that was the worst exchange I’ve witnessed of theirs to date. Camie went to give it back to him today, this also being the first time they’ve spoken an actual word to each other in eight days, and he flat out refused to accept it. When she nonchalantly threw it in a trashcan right before walking away from him, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see blood begin to seep through the front of his shirt where she’d maliciously run him through with a serrated blade. Honestly, it was practically inhumane. And Jeff called Jillian a cold bitch…

  “Oh thank G—how—why do you have this?!”

  “Don’t you dare tell me he doesn’t care about you because I know you saw his face when you threw the birthday gift he gave his beloved in the trash like it was a repugnant piece of garbage. You don’t ever have to open it, but tossing it away with half-eaten tuna fish sandwiches and nasty chewed up gum is, quite simply, reprehensible. And something else, Sis, since you’re doing such an excellent job at school of acting like everything’s fine and dandy, you shouldn’t have a problem playing along at home, and you really need to reconcile yourself with doing that because I’m going to see to it that Dad gets to escape every now and then whether you like it or not.”

  After Jillian slammed the door in Camie’s stunned face and locked it, she turned around and with sudden tears in her eyes she quietly asked, “Are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” I told her.

  She turned her TV on and then crawling onto her bed, she looked at me and admitted, “Good, because I don’t think I can go through any part of that again.”

  “You opened it and rewrapped it, didn’t you?” I asked, just to be sure. Jillian does have a code of conduct, but when she has to go dumpster diving for buried treasure, I think she feels entitled to know what it was for and if it was worth the effort.

  “It’s breathtaking,” she answered with a sniffle, absentmindedly fingering the pendant around her neck.

  “Yeah, it really is,” I agreed.

  Definitely worth the effort…

  Chapter 9

  Tuesday, Week 2

  Analyzation gives a glimpse of what lies beneath, buried and protected, yes, but it’s there…lurking ~ Tristan

  Jillian is many things. She’s intimidating as hell for one thing and yeah, I have no problem admitting that a thirteen-year-old girl occasionally scares the shit out of me. Of course, her sister has a similar effect on me; only Camie doesn’t do it on purpose. Jillian carries herself with something like poetic grace; however, for those of us who have any sense of self-preservation, well, we recognize that poem to be taken from Bradbury’s story Something Wicked This Way Comes. But even for all of her darker character traits, there’s something more, something that lurks deep within her that I find relatively shocking coming from her.

  She has a heart. And yes, it beats.

  She also has pretty damned good timing because I’m telling you, had she come to me with her “request” at anytime on Monday after lunch, I would’ve said something along the lines of, “Fuck you. You can fly straight back to Hell on the broom you rode in on.” Jeff on Saturday night and then Camie’s ruthless stunt with her birthday present yesterday essentially turned me into the cover model for Fuck This Shit Magazine, but after having a night to toss and turn, I was able to get myself back to a place of rational understanding.

  I know why Camie pitched her gift like that and even though I’m still kinda pissed about it, I really don’t blame her. She’s hurt and mad and she doesn’t want another visual of the reason why she’s both of those things. I’m a decent sized visual on my own and she can’t do what Jeff did to me to make herself feel better. Also, the inside of my mouth is still hamburger from when I welcomed Jeff’s assault like it was a cleansing ritual of some kind for both of us, so getting some perspective in the middle of the night and looking at both of those things like that, I was in a much better frame of mind to hear Jillian out on Tuesday. Listening to what she wanted was one thing, liking it and complying?

  Completely different.

  “I’m gonna ask you to do something and it would be in everyone’s best interests and behoove you specifically if you don’t fight me on this.”

  Nice, huh? Jillian’s brand of asking people to do things for her borders on criminal extortion the likes of which John Gotti would’ve been proud of. She would’ve been too young to be his prison pen-pal before he died, but somehow I doubt I’d be all that surprised to find a piece of correspondence between her and the Teflon Don.

  “I’m gonna guess that because you prefaced your request by telling me not to fight you, that I’m not gonna like this and chances are good that I’m gonna wanna fight you tooth and nail.”

  “Possibly, but in the end I think you’ll succumb to my rationale on why you should do this. It’s a win-win. Although the payout for you has the potential for being a double-edged sword.”

  Beautiful. Nothing like being told I have to do something I’m not gonna like and that I’ll either wind up being grateful, or, ruing the day.

  “Dear God in heaven, just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Hang out with my dad like you did back in the good ol’ days.”

  What I was going for was, “Are you out of your fucking-bat-shit-crazy mind?! Your sister’s been yanking me around by my goddamned dick for months, I’ve been taking Jeff up the ass at the same time and now you want me to willingly bend over so your dad has a clear target?! FUCK THAT!!” What I got out was, “W—you—wh—how—”

  “Well that was eloquent. I expected at least a little swearing.”

  “Trust me, it was there,” I mumbled and started to rub at my face. I don’t know if I was thinking that if I rubbed hard enough she would disappear or what, but when I dropped my hands and opened my eyes again, she was still there…just staring at me like I’m some kind of curiosity she’d taken a quick moment out of her morning to consider. “Why, Jillian? Why would you ask me to do this? I mean fuck, all it will accomplish is my death…your dad will shoot me and then he’ll go to prison for murder. Not only that, but Camie doesn’t wanna see me and after yesterday, I don’t particularly wanna see her.”

  “You’re wrong and you’re a liar.”

  “What?!” I’m not questioning her wisdom on whether I might be wrong about some of that. Her dad actually killing me when he shoots me was a mild exaggeration, not out of the question but still. What I’m irritated about is being called a liar.


  “Let’s work backwards here, shall we? Like a Tarantino film but preferably with less blood and gore… You’re lying about not wanting to see her and you know it,” I gritted my teeth and tried to not focus on how easy it would be to snap her little know-it-all neck. Knowing her and with my luck, she’s already made a deal with the devil and can’t be killed anyway. See, here’s the thing, I never said I’m not a liar. I am. I just fuckin’ hate being caught and called out when I do it. “I’d be willing to bet the only reason you even came back in the first place is because you can’t handle being away from her. You’d rather be tortured daily and be able to breathe the same air as my sister than be in a different zip code without any pain whatsoever.”

  “What’s your fucking point, Jillian?” I snapped at her. The chick is fucking infuriating. I honestly don’t know how she constantly knows this shit, but she’s completely right—as fucking sick and demented as it is.

  “I really didn’t have one other than explaining why I called you a liar, which brings me to explaining why you’re also wrong about everything else. Just like how you’re able to put on an act for everyone, she’s doing the same thing. I honestly don’t know why either of you, or why anyone for that matter tries to lie to me…” she said almost to herself like an afterthought, then she shook herself slightly and continued, “Anyway, the point is, she can’t fool me either. She’s furious and determined to get over you because she thinks she needs to, but in my opinion, deep down, I don’t think she wants to and that’s fueling her doubts about whether she even can so she tried to hurt you yesterday instead.”