by Laurie Dubay
“You said you and Bren were just friends.”
“Please,” Brianna said, one hand over her heart, her tone incredulous. “Everyone knew I liked him. Everyone.”
“You did say you didn’t,” Dillon said.
Brianna’s nostrils flared. “You’re defending her now? How long have you known me? And you’re defending her?”
“I think you just pled my case,” Dillon said, pumping his eyebrows to lighten the mood.
Brianna looked like a spider as she dropped her head between her elbows and narrowed her eyes. “Fuck off, Dillon,” she whispered into his face.
“Come on Brie,” Laura said, twisting her hands together as she looked at Brianna. “You’re with Brian now anyway. You don’t even…”
“That’s not the point.” I watched a tiny droplet of Brianna’s spit fly past Lauren’s head. She turned her attention back to me. “And don’t even think about telling anybody that story you made up about Tyler,” she said, “because I’ll tell everybody the truth.”
The truth. Like anyone knew it. I jerked my head up and gave Brianna a hard look. “I’m not worried about what you’ll tell people,” I said. “It doesn’t seem like honesty is the thing you’re known for around here.”
Brianna’s expression froze for a few seconds, her eyes staring right through mine into some reflection of herself, and then her smile began to waver, to warp until it became something bitter and cruel. She leaned back a little and I thought she was going to go, but instead she said: “I slept with him you know. Bren.”
I heard Dillon sigh, but couldn’t take my eyes from hers. My heart raced as I absorbed the meaning of her words. She searched my face and then a satisfied smile played on her lips. She walked around Dillon, her hand grazing his shoulders as she passed, and picked up an apple half-wrapped in a napkin on the far side of him.
“And he was good.” She dragged the phrase out obscenely, and my stomach shrunk into a cold, painful stone. She ripped a tiny, vicious bite from the apple, and, still chewing, said, “I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, Jenna. Guess I was wrong.”
“Do you want to go sit somewhere else?” Dillon broke into her last word as the blood drained from my face. I heard a pang and looked down at the dent my thumb had made in my soda can.
“Don’t bother,” Brianna said, “I’ll go sit with the boys.” She tore another bite from her apple, pivoted, and sashayed back to the other end of the table, skirting around Brian and perching on his knee. I caught a brief glimpse of Tyler staring down at his food before I looked away.
Laura put her hand on my back. “Are you okay?” She peered into my face. I nodded, not sure if I trusted my voice.
“Bitch.” Dillon said.
Tyler caught me at my locker after the last bell. I knew his voice when he said my name, but the shock caused me to turn anyway.
“Get away from me Tyler,” I said, turning back to my locker. I rummaged around on the shelf, unnerved and forgetting what I needed.
“Jenna, please just listen to me for one second.”
“Go away, Tyler.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen, with Brianna. It’s just…everyone was asking what happened to me and I didn’t know what to say.”
I dropped my Science notebook and he bent with me to pick it up. “Don’t touch it.” My voice was a ragged hiss. I snatched the notebook out of his grasp but my eyes were fixed on his. “Just get away from me.”
He rose when I did. “I didn’t know what else to say,” he said again.
“What do you usually say?” I turned back to my rummaging.
He was quiet for a moment and I thought he was gone, but then he said, “I was afraid you were going to tell people what happened. I know you said you wouldn’t if I went along with you at the lodge…but I wasn’t sure.”
“So you lied to everyone first?” I said.
“Just Brianna. And Brian and Matt, but I don’t think they believed me.”
I slammed my locker and spun on him, lifting my chin to make eye contact. “Stay away from me Tyler. Don’t talk to me, don’t talk about me, don’t even think about me. Pretend I don’t exist.” I grabbed up my backpack and left him behind, wishing as I heaved open the doors on the sunny afternoon that I could pretend the same about Brianna.
Chapter 18
On the way home, my mother asked me questions about my day, but I could think of nothing but Bren…and Brianna. I don’t know why it mattered, it was in the past, but some part of me hoped he would tell me it was a lie. And the fear of something else stirred in me as well. What if, in the light of day, after almost two days of homework and tacos and school and other normal things, I looked at him and saw that it wasn’t true, that everything he told me and showed me was some fantasy we’d played out, or worse, that I’d invented it alone.
We hadn’t made plans to meet at any specific time or place, so I ran up to the suite to drop off my backpack, then threw on my jacket and went down to the deck.
The mountain wasn’t as crowded as it would be in an hour or two, when the ski clubs arrived and the locals got out of work, so it was easy to check each rider, scan each yellow jacket for his hair, his stance, his expression. Finally, I caught him coasting down a green trail to my left, watching backward over his shoulder to monitor three kids making wide, slow s-turns behind him. He didn’t glance forward once, yet carved perfect, even curves for the kids to follow, his voice rising in encouraging tones, the sun catching his hair as they emerged from a tree lined narrow and descended toward the flats at the base. He waited for all three of the boys to stop and unbuckle before he lifted his own board.
“That was really good,” I heard him say. “You guys will be okay on the green trails by yourselves now.”
Two of the boys said goodbye and started to head toward the lodge, but the third lingered. He stared up at Bren, his eyes wide, his arm slack around his board. Bren considered him, then hunkered down so they were eye to eye.
“I know that no matter what I tell you,” Bren said, “I’m going to see you in places you shouldn’t be. So you’re going to promise me something.”
The kid nodded, a broom of yellow bangs sweeping his brow.
“Wear a helmet. All the time.” Bren tapped the kid’s helmet twice, the hollow thump just reaching my ears, then extended a black-gloved fist. The kid stared for a moment, then nodded again and bumped Bren’s fist with his own. When Bren rose and tilted his head toward the lodge, the kid turned reluctantly and began to tramp my way, an awed half-smile lighting his face.
I knew how he felt, because in the next moment, as Bren lifted his eyes from the boy making his way over the snow, to me as I stood on the deck watching, I felt illuminated by him, singled out. He grinned and my body warmed even as a cold breeze blew back my coat. I wanted to be close to him, but I was frozen there, my hands clutching the rail. How could I have thought, even for a moment, that I had imagined it? I was astonished that not everyone could see him as I did now, brilliant as a whitewash snowfall, too bright to look at and too arresting to ignore.
He stared at me for another moment, then took two steps forward. His motion prompting mine, I pried my hands from the rail, fluttered down the stairs and walked toward him, stopping a pace or two away to look into his face.
“Hi.” He said.
“Hi.” I said back.
“Feels like it’s been forever.”
I nodded. It had.
He smiled his clean, white smile and reached for my hand. “Then what are you doing over there?”
I opened my mouth with nothing to say, but he was already tugging at me. He stepped closer and slung an arm around my shoulders, pulled me hard against him and kissed the top of my head. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my face against his chest, inhaling his scent, my heart already crazy as his hand slid inside my jacket and around to the small of my back.
“I missed you,” he said, his breath warm in my hair.
“Me too.�
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He held me for a while, then pulled away and looked down into my face. I felt the doubt, the sense of unreality seeping in again and struggled for some words to anchor us.
“How did things go? With your mother?” I asked. There. If it was all some strange delusion, I’d know now.
He took in a long breath, held it for a moment, let it go. “Not sure,” he said. “It took a long time to get in touch with her. She seemed uneasy when we told her about the quakes, but she didn’t know anything. If something was happening, it would be strange for her not to know.”
I nodded, relieved that I was not in a padded cell somewhere living this out in my head. “So what does that mean?”
He shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
His yellow jacket was too cool and smooth under my hands. I wanted to feel the muscles in his back through the warm cotton of his shirt. I let myself wonder what his skin felt like underneath, and a sudden, unexpected flash of Brianna’s hateful face surfaced in my mind. I closed my eyes to banish it. When it didn’t work, I glanced past Bren’s shoulder and let my vision blur into the white.
“Hey,” he said, moving his hand to my chin. “Look at me.”
I swallowed, reluctant to mingle his face with hers. Finally, I dragged my eyes to his.
“What is it?” He asked.
I shook my head.
“Tell me.” His eyes moved over my face.
I shook my head again, smiled. “It’s just been a really long day.”
He stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled back. “Later, then.” He pulled off his gloves, stuffed them into his pockets and took my hand. “Come back to the apartment with me. That was my last group.”
I followed him, registering every detail of the way his hand felt in mine, the sound of his breathing, the crunch of his boots on the snow. Mine made a lighter, faster crunch alongside him. As we crossed the wooden bridge, I hesitated, wondering who would be at his place, and what would happen if no one was. It was easy to want to be close to him in a public place, with people around, but being alone might mean something more to him. Bren felt my hesitation and glanced at me. He slowed, allowing me to set our pace.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” I said too quickly. “Is Frieda here? I want to talk to her.”
Bren shrugged. “Maybe.”
I lingered. Bren gave me a strange look, but matched my steps. “Wouldn’t your ring tell you where she was?” I asked him.
He smiled. “That takes a little concentration. We don’t just use them to see if the bathroom’s free, you know?”
“Hmm,” I said, meandering along.
No matter how slow we walked, we walked, and eventually reached the door. I couldn’t contain my sigh of relief when Bren opened it on Frieda and Dag, engaged in a butter knife fight over the kitchen table. Bren heard me and gave me another strange look, but I was already focused on Frieda, the guilt of not speaking to her on Saturday welling up as she froze, knife poised in the air.
“Jenna,” she said. She tossed the knife onto the table. Dag lowered his and placed it next to hers. As his sleeve slid down his bicep, I caught the flash of a tattoo – a black dragon with red eyes – just before it disappeared under the hem. I wondered if Bren had ink anywhere.
“Hi Frieda.” I hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I’m so sorry about Saturday. The way I acted.”
She stepped over to where I was standing and peered at me with a solemn expression. “You’re not mad at me? Bren told you what I did, right?”
I nodded, laughed a little. “It’s okay. It’s over. Besides, you got Bren out of a lot of trouble. That fact that you got to kick Tyler was just a bonus.”
She smiled a bright, eye-moist smile and curled her arms around my neck. I hugged her back, the end of her braid making my nose twitch, and Dag grinned as I made faces to avoid scratching.
“How was seeing Tyler at school?” Frieda asked as she pulled away. “Did he try to talk to you or anything?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bren look up sharply.
I paused, considering how much to tell. “He said some things to Brianna – a girl I know,” I said, avoiding Bren’s gaze, “but that’s about it. I think he’ll leave me alone.”
“Good.” As she nodded her expression changed back to worry. “And you’re…okay with us? I mean, with our…situation?” Dag was still as stone, watching me closely. I took a breath.
“I’m okay,” I sighed out the words. “I feel like I’m living in a video game, but whatever. I’ve had to adapt to a lot of things recently, so you caught me at a good time.”
She smiled. “Well, at least we don’t have to lie about it. I’m glad you know.”
“Me too.” I smiled back.
Behind us, Val slipped in through the open door and strode straight to the closet in the hallway. Fishing around inside, he came up with his yellow instructor’s jacket and turned to us as he shrugged into it.
“Hi Jenna,” he said, his menthol eyes locking on mine. “How are you?”
I realized that I had tensed up, ready to feel unwelcome. “Hi,” I said. “I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m well.” He nodded once, then let his head fall to the side. “Jenna, do you know why I wasn’t approached by Mr. Neil about what happened to Tyler? Tyler and his father were here on Saturday, weren’t they?”
I felt Bren watching at me with the others, but I couldn’t take my eyes from Val’s. There was no reason not to tell him the truth, especially after the trust they had placed in me.
I cleared my throat. “I told Tyler that he had better rethink what he saw on the raceway, or I would tell what he did to me at the bonfire. Then I told them all that I was with you guys all morning in the terrain park, so it couldn’t have been you. Tyler backed me up.”
The four of them stared at me for a long moment, then Val nodded. “You saved us a lot of grief,” he said. “But if you decide to talk to someone about what happened between you and Tyler -- and I urge you to do that,” he said, raising a palm, “– we’ll all be fine. You understand that now, don’t you?”
“I do,” I said. “But I’d rather leave it.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, then nodded again. “It’s your call.” He looked from Frieda to Dag. “You two better get moving. Our shift starts in five minutes.”
They gave each other comical, wide-eyed looks and scrambled around the corner toward the bedrooms. After a few seconds of rustling, the hiss of hair spray, and an invisible parade of stomping, they trampled back down the hall and pulled their jackets from the closet.
“Later,” Dag said as he passed us.
“Bye guys.” Frieda grabbed my arm on her way out. Val stepped over the threshold last, closing the door behind them.
Their echoes lingered in the hall for a moment, then they were out on the snow, their footsteps fading with their voices. Bren stared at me in the new silence.
“You didn’t tell me what happened with Tyler’s dad,” he said.
“I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I still don’t.” But I felt the need to talk about something, or do something, to take the questions out of the air. Shifting back and forth in place was awkward, so I took a tentative step toward the living room. Bren’s hand shot out and grabbed mine, pulled me back. I turned to him and he grinned.
“Don’t you want to see my room?”
“Uh,” I had an urge to pull my hand away but he grasped it tighter, as if he had anticipated this.
“What?” He said, brows knit together. It felt silly and pointless, trying to will my body to become as heavy as an anchor. When I didn’t answer, he tugged at me again. I let him pull me down the hall to the very last door on the right. He knocked and opened it.
“I didn’t think Frey was here, but you never know,” he said, flipping on the light. “He sleeps a lot.”
There were two twin beds under the windows in the left wall, one with the covers hastily pulled up, and the one closes
t to us with a tangle of sheets in the middle. The blinds on the windows were closed, the surrounding walls hung with posters of rock bands – Led Zeppelin, Guns -N- Roses, The Doors. Beside the closet on the wall to our right stood a stereo system with a huge collection of CDs. Stepping over to them, away from the beds, I began to scan the titles. I saw everything from alt to techno to reggae to hip hop to rock. Some of it I recognized, but a lot of it I’d never heard of. I couldn’t tell which was old and which was new.
“Wow,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on the tower of music. “Which stuff’s yours?”
“It’s all mixed up,” he said from close behind me. I jumped at the sound of his voice, then closed my eyes to steady myself.
“Do you like any of it?” He asked.
“I don’t recognize a lot of this. I guess my tastes are kind of shallow.”
“There’s nothing shallow about you.” He reached up and tugged at the collar of my coat, and I let him slide it off and toss it onto Frey’s ravaged bed. Then he took his own coat off and threw it on top of mine. I turned back to the CDs.
“You want to play one of those?” He asked.
I shrugged. “Just looking.”
We stood like that for a long time, close enough for me to feel his breath on the top of my head, too long for him to believe that I hadn’t seen every CD in the stack.
“Jenna?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
I dropped my gaze to the carpet, contemplating what to say. I assumed he was used to being alone in his bedroom with girls. They had probably all worshipped him and were grateful to be there. But I didn’t want to be one of them. I wasn’t one of them. And I felt a surge of anger that he didn’t know that.
“Hasn’t anyone ever said ‘no’ to you?” I asked, my voice a little too hard.
“What?” He put a hand on my shoulder and spun me to face him.
I crossed my arms. “Has any girl ever said ‘no’ to you?”
He stared for a moment. “What is this about?”