Teen Fury: Unleashed

by Amanda Torrey

  I have no words.

  Since when does Jenny Jones have even a molecule of philanthropy in her? It’s starting to feel like she wants my whole life to be her own. Maybe I should send her my leftovers from lunch, too.

  I’d like to think she doesn’t stand a chance, that my kids deserve the grant, but who knows?

  Time for me to pick up the pace and get my name back in the game. I’ve lost too much credibility already.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  I can’t say I mind Ryder’s presence guiding me through school. Without him, I’m not sure I’d find my way around. He’s even smart enough to keep quiet, which I am immensely grateful for.

  When I get to English class, having my own personal bodyguard even wards off the evil Jenny. One look at his glare sends her perfect nose and model-like body striding into class with nary even the tiniest offensive statement.

  When class is over, I fall into step with Ryder once again. I say nothing, he says less. But it’s working, at least for today.

  “There you are.” I gasp when Zane pulls me by the arm. I pull away and rub the tender spot.

  “Do you have to squeeze so tight?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  His eye is swollen, black and blues and purples spreading across his face. Did he get punished for helping me escape? I feel sick at the thought. Even bruised, though, his handsomeness isn’t lessened. If anything, it makes him seem more attractive.

  I move away from him, keeping my words inside.

  He grabs me again, determined, full of purpose. Before I can reclaim my arm, Ryder is pulling Zane off me. I never noticed how much bigger Ryder is than Zane.

  “Enough. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  Zane’s laugh is guttural.

  “If that’s true, she can tell me herself. You have no idea the level of communication we’ve reached.” Zane raises his thick eyebrows. I turn my head.

  I hear a grunt and a thump and turn back to see Ryder holding Zane against the wall. Ryder’s forearm presses against Zane’s throat, and by Zane’s bulging eyes, I’d say he’s having difficulty breathing. Ryder doesn’t look like he’s going to ease up.

  The intensity of Ryder’s expression and the violence of the action turns my stomach, but I don’t have it in me to try to stop them from their own idiocy. Nothing I do has been working lately, anyway. I’m an empty vessel, simply existing. Broken.

  “You pushed her too far, too fast. She’s still not recovered.”

  Ryder’s words knock me off balance. I guess everyone else can see I’m broken, too.

  I wander off, incapable of caring.

  “Stay away from her.”

  And then Ryder is by my side again. I feel his anger, but he doesn’t say a word. Within seconds, the energy surrounding me is calm and peaceful, as usual with Ryder.

  At lunch time, Ryder gives me a break and sits at another table. I make use of the quiet time to scribble out a note to Corey, trying to apologize for my nastiness toward him lately. Words don’t come easily, and my every effort seems too little, too late.

  I tear the paper out of my notebook and take pleasure in crumpling it into a ball.

  I try to text him, but I can’t get past “I’m sorry.” He deserves more than that.

  Jade is noticeably absent from lunch, and all my so-called friends are avoiding me, walking by like they don’t see me. One girl I kind of know (she’s a friend of a friend of a friend) looks at me and gives me a meek smile before turning away, and I look at my phone as if I’m too busy for a social life, anyway.

  Jade texts me with an apology, saying she had to make up a test for algebra during her lunch period. I send back a simple “no prob.”

  I feel eyes on me and look up to see Corey sitting three tables away from me. He quickly looks away, plunging my hopes into deeper darkness. Yup, he’s still mad, as he should be.

  I could go over and thank him for doing the website. That would at least give me a reason for reaching out to him, aside from the fact that he’s been my best friend for ages.

  I grab my stuff and head over to his table. Yeah, I’ll thank him for the website, tell him how amazing it is. Maybe we can go back to normal and he can forget about my bitchiness. He knows I’m not normally like that.

  My heart pounds as I approach Corey’s table. My mouth goes dry when I notice he’s not alone, and he’s not with any of our usual friends. He’s with a girl. A fellow computer geek he used to date. The one he thought was overly conceited and always smelled like onions. The one we spent hours drawing pictures of and pretending she was a vampire and we were the slayers. The one he was so mad about, he cried in front of me.

  Yeah, that one. The one who broke his heart for the first time.

  And now he prefers her company over mine.

  I’m not too thick to get that message.

  ***

  Ryder walks me home but is quieter than usual. His peaceful demeanor quells my inner turmoil a bit, for which I’m grateful.

  When we get to my house, he touches my arm, then pulls back like he was burned. What’s with that? I want to say something, but I’d probably be mortified to hear the answer.

  “Felicia, I have to be gone for a few days. I know you’ll be safe, but please be careful.”

  I want to ask where he’ll be going, but words won’t come. I just want to sleep.

  “No prob. I survived just fine before you became my personal savior.” I mean the words as a joke, but he looks offended.

  “I guess you have.” He smiles, which I actually prefer to the withdrawn Ryder I’ve seen today. Not that I can complain about someone else’s moods. “If you need me, I’ll try to get back. I have a meeting that I need to attend, and it could take a while.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Seriously. I’m not going anywhere near the Fury world, trust me.”

  “Good. Remember that. No matter what.”

  “Do you need a pinky promise to feel better?”

  He smiles bigger this time.

  “Nah, I trust you.” He turns and walks away, and I am struck by the fact that I don’t remember ever having to watch him walk away from me, he’s always the one watching me.

  A heavy weight settles in the bottom of my belly; and it takes a moment for me to realize I miss him already.

  ***

  My mom is still walking on eggshells around me, like she’s terrified I’ll go all snake-crazy again and she’ll have to drag my butt to another doctor.

  I coast through the evening, pushing the food around my plate, half-heartedly doing my homework, answering Mom’s questions with one word answers. I have no idea how to make things better.

  The one ray of hope I have is getting the grant for the kids. Then I can at least bring light to someone’s life, since I’m doing a great job of darkening everyone else’s.

  I finish the letter I’m writing to the grant committee, then seal it in the envelope before I can change my mind. I figure a letter written on real paper will go farther toward looking sincere than a quick-send email. And at this point, I need every advantage I can get.

  Before I tuck myself into bed at a whopping 7:00 P.M., I rearrange my bulletin board of pictures. I flip all the smiling, happy pictures of Corey, Jade, and me around, the emptiness of the backside of the photo reflecting the way I feel inside.

  I turn off my cell and drift to sleep. I once again dream of snakes, but this time, the snakes are limp and dead. And I’m free.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  My mom wakes me by handing me the house phone. I almost forgot we had one of these things.

  “What’s the matter, did I wake you?” Zane.

  I try to squeak an answer, but my vocal chords are still asleep. I consider throwing the phone, but am determined to start this day on a positive note.

  “Why are you calling so early on a Saturday?”

  “Because I have a surprise for you.”

  “I’m not so sure I like your surprises.”r />
  “You’ll love this one. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”

  “Whoa, hold up.” I sit upright in bed. No way am I going anywhere with him. Not after the last time. “I don’t really think so.”

  “Felicia, your mom wants you back. She’s willing to do anything to get you to stay with her.”

  “Are we seriously having this conversation?”

  “Hear me out. She knows she was wrong last time. She just doesn’t know how to raise kids.”

  I snort.

  “Come on, give her one more chance. She’ll give you all the freedom to come and go as you please. You can be your own woman; no one will treat you like a kid.”

  “She treated me like a prisoner, not a kid.”

  “You don’t even have to go to school if you don’t want to.”

  “I like school. I like my parents’ rules. And I am rather fond of my life, just the way it is.” This isn’t a total lie. I had always been happy until snakes started growing out my head.

  “You know you want your mother in your life. Give her one more chance. I’ll be there to make sure she keeps her word. Don’t forget who helped you last time.”

  It’s true he kind of helped me, but I don’t know if I really would have escaped if not for Ryder showing up.

  “I do have my mother in my life, thank you very much. Got to go.” Click.

  I have no time for his drama.

  After my shower and a quick breakfast, my mom informs me that my dad is coming for a visit. I haven’t seen him since I got back. He was obviously too busy to check on his recently missing daughter.

  When Dad arrives, I’m surprised at how cold I feel toward him.

  “Hey, baby girl. I’ve missed you.”

  I let him hug me, but keep my arms by my side as he squeezes me tight.

  “We have a lot to catch up on.”

  We do? I’ve learned all I need to know on Facebook.

  All I can say is, “Mmhmm.”

  “Jenny tells me you have been pretty quiet in school. Having a hard time lately, huh?”

  He’s getting my life updates from Jenny?

  “I’m fine.”

  “That’s good. I was almost getting worried.”

  Almost? I feel the snakes tickling my scalp. They haven’t emerged since I left the Fury world; I was kind of hoping they were dead.

  “Come sit next to me. I have some big news for you.” Dad pats the cushion next to him. I remember days where we’d sit together and watch the Science Channel, loving our time together. Where did that guy go?

  I don’t want to hear his news. I want to sit with him and Mom and shout the answers to Wheel of Fortune and beg Mom for her homemade ice cream and roll my eyes at Dad’s dumb jokes and live the way we have for the past fifteen years. If he tells me his news, we can never go back.

  I sit beside him, my back stiff. Our knees almost touch, so I pull them away slightly.

  “So… you’ll be happy to know you’re going to be a big sister.” Just like that.

  The weight of his news sinks to the bottom of my stomach, taking my spirit, my soul, and my wishes-for-normalcy with them.

  Does he really expect me to be happy?

  “What do you think, baby girl? Are you excited?”

  I stare at him, feeling every ounce as blank as my expression.

  Why yes, Father, I’m thrilled you’re replacing me.

  Or how about, I’m overjoyed at the prospect of you starting a new life with a new woman less than one month after leaving my mother.

  Or my personal favorite, What were you thinking, getting that whore pregnant and ruining all of our lives?

  “Hey, why don’t you come over to my place tonight? We haven’t spent any time together lately. We can have a movie night with Jenny. It will be fun.”

  “No thanks. I have to watch paint dry tonight.”

  “Felicia Marie, try to be reasonable. You’re going to be sisters.”

  I leap off the couch. Animosity oozes from every molecule of my being.

  “I have no sisters,” I growl. “Apparently my father was abducted by aliens.”

  I stomp out of the room, rage consuming me, but managing to keep the snakes inside. My eyes are filling with red, but I hope he doesn’t see. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t notice anything beyond his own self-interest, anyway.

  I whip around to yell at him again.

  “Do you even remember that you’re already married? To my mother?”

  “I know this must be hard for you—”

  He gets off the couch and steps toward me. I hold my hand out to keep him at bay.

  “Oh, I bet you know.”

  “But hon, the divorce is uncontested and will go through fast. Under normal circumstances I’d want to wait a little longer, for the sake of decency, you know. But I want my baby born within a marriage. Surely you can understand this. I only want what’s best for my child.”

  His child. Of course. Why wouldn’t he want what’s best for his child?

  Tears stream into my mouth before I realize I’m crying. I wipe them away and notice pink streaks on the back of my hands. The snakes flutter against the inside of my head, but even they lack the will to emerge.

  Apparently deep depression is the solution to countering rage.

  I swallow and take a deep breath.

  “You’re right, of course, Dad. Do what’s best for your child. Don’t let my irrational feelings interfere with your life.”

  At that moment, Mom walks in, sees my face, and purses her lips. She must have heard at least the last part of our conversation.

  “I think it’s time for you to leave, Charles.” Mom seldom uses that tone, but when she does, you don’t want to argue.

  Though I refuse to look directly at him, I sense his discomfort. Once upon a time, Dad knew how to comfort me. I think those aliens really did a number on him.

  Mom reaches for me, and I let her wrap her arms around me for a moment. When Dad starts to speak again, I shrug away from her and run to my room. As I’m climbing the stairs, two at a time, I hear my mom saying, “Let’s not forget Felicia is your daughter, too.”

  ***

  My eyes are drier than the desert when Mom comes to console me. I think my tear ducts are broken from overuse.

  The bed creaks from her weight. I move over slightly, keeping my fleece blanket wrapped tight around me.

  “I’m sure that didn’t go quite as he planned.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Come here.” Mom yanks on my blanket, encouraging me to sit up. I do so begrudgingly, staring at my friendless wall. “It may not seem like it at this moment, with all that’s happening, but your dad really, truly loves you, Felicia.”

  “Hmph.” I roll my eyes this time.

  “Word of the day?”

  I gift her with a “whatever” stare.

  “You don’t even want to hear my word of the day. Besides, I don’t have enough quarters for the Swear Jar.”

  Mom’s soft giggle warms me. Her arm around me brings me back to the comfort of a preschooler.

  “You can’t imagine the awe on your dad’s face when we first found you. He was so enamored, I couldn’t get his attention for weeks. When we found out you were free for adoption and that we had been approved…” She pauses, tears clogging her throat. “Felicia, there was no material strong enough to anchor that man to the ground. You filled him in ways nothing else could.”

  “Well hey, things change.”

  Mom positions herself so she’s in front of me, her eyes piercing mine.

  “Your dad may be lacking a sensitivity gene lately, but the way he feels about you has not changed. He’d move mountains for you if you’d let him.”

  I look at her before responding. She’s been through so much, between dad’s midlife crisis and my adolescent craze. And yet here she is, strong and steady.

  But she still doesn’t get it.

  “That’s part of the problem, Mom. I shouldn’t have to let him.
”

  Mom surprises me by chuckling.

  “You have so much to learn, sweet pea. Men don’t always act the way we think they should, the way we fantasize.”

  “Real men do.”

  She smiles, her focus drifting. She seems to be studying the orange shag rug near my bed, and I wonder if she’s left this world. Within seconds, whatever spell she’s under breaks and she makes eye contact again.

  “I can’t make you believe your dad loves you. But I know with every fiber of my being that he does.” She smoothes the hair on the side of my forehead and sighs. “And I know it’s not my job to convince you. Dad is messing up right now, and he has to make it up to you. I just hate to see you hurting.”

  The tears in Mom’s eyes make tears spring to mine. Luckily, they are the clear kind.

  “Mom?”

  “Mmhmm?”

  “Are you okay? I mean, I know you seem okay, but isn’t it hard for you to be replaced so quickly? It’s gotta hurt.”

  She doesn’t answer, and I think maybe I crossed a line. Mom and I have always been close, but our conversations usually center around, well, me.

  She straightens her back and gives a wry smile.

  “Yeah, it hurts. Of course it does. But Dad and I haven’t been healthy together for a while. I’ll always love him, and I’ll always want what’s best for him, and I do believe he wants what’s best for you. And me, too. But I look at life now and I see so many possibilities I didn’t see before. It’s a new time for me, Felicia. I’m getting kind of excited about this adventure.” She smiles genuinely.

  I can’t help but smile back.

  “And you know what? I feel younger. Don’t look at me like that. I feel young and alive and eager to do things I haven’t done.”

  “Don’t even go there, Mom.”

  She slaps my thigh.

  “Not like that, silly. Although…”

  We laugh, and it feels good. Our light laughter quickly spirals into the uncontrollable kind, where we are gripping our bellies and I can barely breathe, and tears are streaming down our faces. The laughing switches to crying, and we hold each other and connect on a level that only the luckiest of kids are able to connect with their parents. Then the laughter resumes, and I want to hear more from this livelier, younger-feeling version of Mom.

  I wipe my eyes on my blanket, and she wipes hers on the back of her hand, noting the black streaks left behind.

  “I have mascara everywhere, don’t I?”

  “Yup, you look a little raccoony. I hope Prince Charming doesn’t come to the door when you’re looking like that.”