by Garza, Amber
After she calmed down, I stroked her arm and kissed her forehead. Once she nestled into me and her breathing returned to normal, I asked her what she did to Bentley that would make him want revenge. For a few minutes she was quiet, and I feared she wouldn’t tell me. But then she peered up at me with those green eyes of hers and spilled the entire story.
She told me all about how she and Bentley met, and what he did to her at the party. I had to grip the side of her bed when she told me to keep from lashing out. I ground my teeth together and imagined strangling that bastard with my bare hands. I knew that if he was still alive, I would get my hands on him at some point. There was no way I’d let him get away with hurting my girl.
And then she told me how no one had believed her, and I got even angrier. So angry I felt it pumping through my veins, red and hot. When she stiffened in my arms, I knew this part would be the hardest for her to share, and it made me curious. What could be worse than what she’d already said?
Rolling over, she looked into my eyes and made me promise I would still love her after she told me the next part. That’s when I realized that for her it hadn’t been hard to share with me the way she’d been violated because she loved and trusted me. What was hard was the thought that I wouldn’t want her anymore. That what she did would cause me to turn my back on her. It only made me love her more. I kissed her softly, trailing kissing all over her face and lips. And then I convinced her that nothing she could say would ever make me not love her.
Appearing satisfied, she took a deep breath and then told me how a week after the rape she took a knife from her house and drove to Bentley’s. It was late at night and everyone in his house was sleeping. So she snuck in through his bedroom window and stood over his bed, wielding the knife. She promised me that her goal had only been to scare him, but honestly I didn’t care. The asshole deserved to die for what he did. However, I told her I understood because I knew that’s what she needed to hear.
She explained to me how she stood over his bed with the knife and softly spoke his name into the air until he woke up. Her plan had been to use the knife to threaten him until he swore to tell the truth. When he saw her he freaked out and started screaming. She tried to shush him, but he wouldn’t listen. Pretty soon his parents came rushing in, and there was Piper standing over his bed holding a knife.
So they called the cops on her. Bentley told the cops his version of the story - that they’d slept together and then he broke it off causing her to go psycho. Everyone believed him, including her parents, and people started harassing her constantly.
That’s when she tried to kill herself. In fact, she said she used the same knife she’d brought to Bentley’s that night. She called it poetic justice. She had hoped Bentley would get the symbolism and feel bad. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that he never would have. Guys like that never feel remorse.
But he sure as hell was going to feel something when I was through with him.
Tyler
The detective was really tall. He towered over me, his shadow obliterating everything around him. I swallowed hard, already feeling sick. My hands trembled at my sides. God, I was totally going to screw this up. If only they’d chosen to interview Zach instead. A thought struck me, almost knocking me over. What if they were interviewing us both? What if they were at Zach’s right now? Would he tell the same story as me?
Shit, we should have corroborated our stories beforehand.
The detective introduced himself, but I didn’t remember what he said his name was. I was too busy freaking out.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Mom’s voice wavered nervously as she indicated the empty love seat to the detective.
Our family room was normally a comfortable place for me with its framed family pictures, soft couch, and flat screen mounted to the wall. But today it felt claustrophobic. I tugged at the collar of my shirt, sweat accumulating on my back and under my pits.
The detective sat down, his long legs bent awkwardly. We were not a tall family, and he looked odd in the small chair. Mom sank down onto the couch, and I took the seat next to her. For once I was grateful for her hovering. I scooted as close as I could to her, as if I was a little boy needing his mommy. When I was in third grade I got in trouble for horsing around in class. Mom had to come down to the school for a meeting with the principal. I remembered the way her presence calmed me, the way her smile took away my anxiety. It wasn’t quite the same today, but it did ease my fears a little having her here.
The detective stared right at me. His eyes were blue, and I could see my reflection in them. It unnerved me.
“Tyler, I need to ask you a few questions about Jackson Walsh.”
As if I really needed clarification for why he was here. But I nodded.
“I understand the two of you were good friends.”
“Oh, the best,” Mom gushed. Then she flashed an apologetic look and shook her head. “Sorry.”
The detective smiled at her before returning his attention to me.
“Um…yeah.” My mind whirred. Should I tell him that we didn’t hang out much this year, or would that sound like motive? Then again, if I made it sound like we were still best friends, then he’d want to know when the last time I saw him was. And I didn’t want to open that can of worms. Finally, I opted for the truth. “Well, I mean, we used to be. Not really this year.”
“Why is that?” the detective asked.
My stomach tightened. I hoped that was the right move. “Because he spent all his time with Piper. You know, you should probably be talking to her. She was always with him.”
“So you didn’t hang out with him at all this year?”
I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. There’s no way I could tell him about the last couple of times I saw Jackson. Then again, he did use the words “hang out,” and I didn’t think what the three of us did could be described as hanging out.
It was January, and it was bitterly cold. I was at Zach’s house playing videogames. Rain pelted the windows, and wind howled like a dying animal. At first when we heard the knock on the door we assumed it was a tree branch scratching the side of the house. But then it became more insistent. With a raised eyebrow, Zach peered out the window.
“It’s Jackson,” Zach said, surprise evident in his voice.
“What’s he doing here?” The last time he came over he and Zach almost killed each other. My chest tightened.
Zach just shrugged and reached for the door. When it opened, a gust of wind blew inside. The magazines sitting on the coffee table fluttered. My hair blew up, and I shuddered. Jackson wore a hooded sweatshirt and jeans. He hugged himself as rain whipped around his body.
“Can I come in? I need your help.”
A curious expression crossed Zach’s face as he moved out of the way to allow Jackson entry. Once inside, Jackson pulled off his hood, causing water to drip on the floor. I dropped the video controller on the couch and then turned around, resting my chin on the cushions.
“What’s up?” Zach crossed his arms over his chest.
“Look, I know we’ve had our issues this year,” Jackson said. “But the three of us have been friends for a long time, and right now I need you guys.”
Zach glanced over at me, and I shrugged.
“Tyler, I’ve always had your back, haven’t I?” Jackson pinned me with a challenging look.
My insides twisted. “Yeah.”
Jackson turned to Zach. “And who was it that got you out of all that trouble freshman year?”
“You,” Zach mumbled.
I almost laughed at the defeated look on his face. He hated admitting that he needed anyone, but it was true. Zach got caught sneaking out freshman year. If it hadn’t been for Jackson’s smart thinking, he would have been grounded for life. But Jackson sweet talked Zach’s mom, pretending that Zach was just sneaking out to help Jackson out of a jam. She bought it, because Jackson is such a great actor, and all the parents loved him.
“Wel
l, now it’s my turn. I need you two to have my back. Do you?” Jackson’s expression was hard, and I knew whatever he was going to ask us was serious. That alone made me want to say hell no, but I knew I couldn’t do that.
“Sure,” Zach answered.
Jackson glanced at me. I nodded.
“Great. Then let’s go.” Jackson rubbed his palms together the way he did when he was anxious.
Zach grabbed his coat off the rack near the front door.
I froze. “Wait. Where are we going?”
“Cherry Wood,” Jackson reached up, yanking his hood over his hair.
“The town? Isn’t that like an hour away?” I asked, still sitting on the couch.
Zach zipped up his jacket, shaking his head with exasperation. I wasn’t trying to be difficult, but if we were driving an hour away I should know why.
“It’s where Piper came from,” Jackson responded.
“Are you taking her back?” I joked.
“Yeah. You got her stashed in your trunk, man?” Zach nudged Jackson in the side with his elbow.
But Jackson didn’t even crack a smile. “No. There’s a guy there that I need to see.”
I didn’t like the sound of this. “Just see?”
“C’mon.” Jackson reached for the front door. “I’ll explain on the drive.”
“Let me grab us some snacks.” Zach hurried into the kitchen.
How could he think of food at a time like this? We were walking into this situation blindly.
“You coming or you gonna chicken out?” Jackson asked me.
“Bock, bock, bock.” Zach came out of the kitchen, flapping his arms. Chip and candy bags dangled between his fingers.
Standing up, I sighed. “No, I’m not chickening out. Let’s go.”
“All right. Road trip!” Zach hollered as we headed out into the cold. “It’ll be just like old times.” He sidled up to me as we headed toward Jackson’s car.
But I couldn’t share in Zach’s excitement. I knew this wasn’t some fun road trip. We wouldn’t be bonding and horsing around. I could tell by Jackson’s face that this was bad. We were walking into something dangerous, I was sure of it.
The first half hour of the drive Jackson was quiet. He blared rock music while Zach munched on chips. I sat alone in the back seat staring out the window, anxiety rising with each passing mile.
Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “What are we doing, Jackson?”
“I told you I need to pay a visit to a guy in Cherry Wood.” He kept his eyes on the road, his hands on the steering wheel. But I saw his fist clench when he spoke, and that was all I needed to know.
“What did he do?” I asked.
“He hurt Piper,” Jackson responded, venom in his voice.
Shit. He was going to kill this guy. Panic settled in my gut. “What are you gonna do to him?”
“Relax. We’re just gonna scare him a little,” Jackson said, a small smile flickering. It’s the first time today I’d seen him smile, and it worried me more than the angry look he had before.
“How?” I asked.
“You’ll see.” He flicked on his blinker and moved into the right lane. Cars zipped past us swiftly on the freeway. I wondered where they were going - home from work, out to drinks with friends. Most likely they were not on their way to hurt some unsuspecting guy. Damn it, why did I get in this car?
“Do you think this is a good idea?” I pressed, hoping I could talk him out of it.
“Seriously, Tyler. Calm down. God, you’re a pussy,” Zach said in a harsh tone. “This guy hurt Jackson’s girl. He deserves whatever’s coming to him.” He slapped Jackson on the shoulder. “And we’ve got your back, man. Anything you need.”
“Thanks.” Jackson took the next exit. When the Cherry Wood sign came into view, I felt sick.
Courtney
My conversation with Mom ended abruptly when Dad called her on her cell phone. I wanted to stay and eavesdrop, find out if he knew anything, but Mom turned away from me and spoke in a whisper. I took the hint and slipped out of her room, closing the door securely behind me. It was fine, though, because it gave me a chance to read Jackson’s journal again. Even though I’d finished it, I longed to re-read it. It was all I had left of him now. It was the only way I’d ever hear his voice again.
My bare feet shuffled on the soft carpet as I headed down the hallway toward my room. After stepping inside, I closed the door and then hurried to my dresser. The journal was right where I left it. As I lifted it up, I felt as if I was near Jackson. I could feel him here with me, as if he truly lived within the pages of his journal. As if his words could bring him back to life.
If only.
All morning my heart had been anxious to get back here. Anxious to hear Jackson’s voice, re-read his stories, be alone with his thoughts. Clutching the book to my chest, I heard Mom’s voice floating down the hallway from her room. I thought of how distraught she’d been. How desperate she was for answers. If she or Dad knew I had this journal they’d take it, and I’d never see it again.
Setting the journal down on the bed, I grabbed the edge of the chair that sat in front of my desk. Then I dragged it across the room and propped it under the doorknob. I didn’t have a lock on my bedroom door, so it was the best I could do. I’d never thought of doing it before, but one time Jackson had done it. That’s how I got the idea. Sure, it would arouse suspicion if Mom tried to get in, but she’d never suspect what I was hiding. She would never guess that Jackson kept a journal.
Whirling around, I walked back to the bed. When I reached it, I plunked down next to the journal and picked it up. Setting it in my lap, I peeled back the pages until I reached the last one I read. My fingers skimmed over the ragged edges of the torn pages after it. If only I could read those pages. Deep in my heart, I knew they had the answers I was looking for. They had to. Why else would they be missing? Bobbing my head up, my gaze caught on the book of poetry I had taken from Jackson’s room, and I thought about the poem tucked inside. Maybe if I read the poem again I could make sense of it. Perhaps if I scanned some of Piper’s poetry book it would help me in deciphering Jackson’s poem. Dropping the journal, I stood and moved toward the book. After picking it up, I carried it to my bed and sat back down. It felt good to be surrounded by Jackson’s belongings; his words, his stories, his poetry. Opening the book, I flipped to find where I’d stuck the poem before carrying the book to my room. As I perused the pages, my fingers caught on a piece of tape. It stuck to my fingertip. That was odd.
Peeling it off my skin, I opened to the page with the tape, and my heart arrested in my chest. It was one of the missing journal entries. He must have hidden them in here. Heart pounding, I yanked it out.
Bending my head, I allowed Jackson’s words to wash over me. I have a confession to make. I’ve done something pretty damn terrible. My heart started to pound in my chest, and I felt sick as I read on. By the time I finished the entry, my mouth had filled with moisture, my stomach rolled. I worried I would throw up. Swallowing it back down, I breathed in deeply to ward off the nausea.
My head bobbed up, my gaze catching on the chair in front of my door, and my breath caught in my throat. January. It was January when Jackson barricaded himself in his room the same way I just did. I remembered how cold it had been that day. How it rained without ceasing.
Jackson was out late. I overheard Mom tell Dad that Jackson had texted to say he was out with the guys. Mom seemed pleased, but I was confused. Jackson hadn’t hung out with Tyler and Zach for awhile. It was odd that he would be out with them so late. Had something happened with Piper?
Mom and Dad went to bed around nine-thirty, but I stayed up and watched TV until ten. I was hoping to see Jackson when he got home, but I was too tired to stay up any longer. My eyelids lowered, closing over my eyes, and I kept yawning. So finally I gave up and trudged upstairs to my room. After brushing my teeth and changing into my pajamas, I crawled into bed. I was asleep within minutes of lying my he
ad on the pillow.
Noises awoke me. It took me a moment to hone in on the sounds. It was footsteps on the ground, doors closing, hushed voices. I was sure it was Jackson and his friends, but still apprehension filled me. It wasn’t that the noise was so foreign. No, these were pretty normal sounds in our home. Jackson stumbling in late and whispering with his friends was something we were accustomed to. Still this felt different. The noises were the same, but the sensation in my gut was new.
I flung off my covers and swung my legs off the bed. The carpet tickled the pads of my feet when I stood up and stepped across the room. When I opened my bedroom door, I peeked out in the hallway. It was empty and dark. Faint voices traveled from under Jackson’s door. Curious, I crept toward it. When I reached it, I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to go inside if his friends were here. Sure, they were always nice to me, but I was in my jammies. And I was sure my hair was a mess. Reaching up, I touched the tangled strands. Yes, without even looking I could tell it was a mess up there.
“C’mon, hurry up. Toss it in the bag,” I heard Jackson bark.
“I am.” Even through the door I could tell that was Tyler’s voice. He always had a whiny, scared tone. However, tonight that was amplified.
“Okay. Got it,” Zach’s voice was gruff.
I shuddered, my elbow hitting the wall.
“What was that?” Zach asked.
I froze. What the hell was I going to say if they came out and caught me eavesdropping? I thought of running back to my room, but that would really get their attention. So instead I stood still, unmoving, and barely even breathing.
“I don’t hear anything,” Jackson said.
“Damn it, you don’t even have a lock on your door, man,” Zach whispered.
“No one’s going to come in here. Everyone’s sleeping,” Jackson responded. But Zach must not have been satisfied with that answer, because Jackson said, “Fine. Here. Hand me the chair.” I heard the chair being dragged across the ground and then set against the door. At least that’s what I assumed he had done. It was smart, actually, and I tucked away the information for later in case I ever needed privacy.