by Seven Steps
I nodded.
“My son will also assure me that there will be no further calls to Detective Harding, who is now my permanent employee. Any issues you have with my son will be addressed with me directly.”
Cole stepped forward. “Yes, Papa.”
“Let her answer.”
I locked eyes with Ivan. He was infamous, his name said in the same breath as Scarface and Noriega. I refused to look away.
“I never saw you,” I said. “But you have to keep the drugs out of my school. Promise me.”
His chin raised, a smirk on his face.
“Me, promise you?”
I stood strong, my hands fisted.
“I want your word.”
He examined me for a moment, then looked at his son.
“French?” he asked.
Cole smiled. “In name only.”
“Good enough.” His eyes fell back to me. “You have my word that this school will be clean. If it is not, you will call me and I will take care of it. Clear?”
I nodded. “Clear.”
And with that, Ivan grunted and turned away, leaving Cole and I alone in the locker room.
It was over.
With everything out in the open, I felt free.
Alone. But free.
And surprisingly, hopeful.
“I’ll take you home,” Cole said.
I leaned on him, basking in his strength. In his love.
“Yes,” I said. “Please, take me home.”
63
I slept in on Tuesday. Then that night, I sat down with my dad and told him everything. Everything I’d done, every lie I’d told, every phone call I made, every time I snuck out. He was angry at first. I couldn’t blame him for that. But then, after things calmed down, he handed me a chocolate chip cookie, placed a kiss on my head and sat with me on the couch. He held my feet in his lap while I moved between watching television, crying, being sullen and being grateful that I was alive.
He left for work on Tuesday morning, calling hourly to make sure that I was okay. That I was eating. That I was sleeping. That I was taking it easy. I tried to sound strong, but inside, I was dying. A black cloud circled my head, and to be honest, I didn’t want it to go away. I had lost so much in the last week. I wanted to sink in to a big vat of oily, inky pity and never come back out.
How would I go on?
Everyone in school probably hated me by now. After all, I was single-handedly responsible for getting the star quarterback shipped off to god knows where in Russia. Granted, he tried to kill me, but they didn’t know that. Kenny had vanished, which meant that there would be no more pot Fridays, and definitely no more of the hard stuff that had developed such a devoted following in the school. Ariel hated me. Jasmine hated me. Cole … I hadn’t heard from Cole since he dropped me home on Monday night. No phone call. No text. Not that I was holding out any hope for it. After all, his brother and sister were gone because of me.
And so I ate ice cream, watched Judge Judy and The Price is Right and after having lost everything, I hid from the world.
64
It was twelve fifteen on Wednesday afternoon when someone knocked on my door.
Odd. Daddy was at work and I wasn’t expecting anyone.
I stood on shaky legs— how long does it take for muscles to atrophy? —and slowly pulled the door open.
Dana Rich looked at me in a weird mix of amusement and pity.
“You look awful,” she said, pushing past me and walking in to my apartment. “And this apartment smells like spaghetti sauce.”
Daddy had been making spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread for three days straight since he knew it was my favorite. With each tasty bite, I loved him a little more.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Watching you spiral into a pit of social oblivion,” she said, sliding an empty tub of ice cream out of her way with her toe.
“Get out, Dana.”
She stopped her march of disgust through my living room and turned to me.
“You have to come back to school,” she said.
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Believe me, no one wants me back there.”
“Will you stop thinking about everyone else?!” she commanded, stomping one heeled foot. “You know, your little speech got it wrong. Being popular is not about creating some impossible standard of perfection for everyone else to live up to. Being popular is about not caring what everyone else thinks. That’s why you feel empty. That’s why you feel alone. Because you have been caring what everyone else thinks and not worrying about yourself.”
She turned away, looking out of the open window behind the television.
“I was the one that called Jake’s father.”
I gasped.
“What? Why?”
“Because Jake and Regina were destructive and had to be stopped. Did you know that Regina broke me and Jake up? She sent me fake screenshots and told me that Jake was cheating and I believed her. Stupid. If Jake and me were still together, I could have stopped him. He would have listened to me. But by the time I found out what she’d done, Jake had already moved on to you and I was out of the circle.”
“So why call his father?”
“I had no choice. Stephanie was dead. Mel was in rehab. Somehow, you turned my boyfriend into a psychopathic killer. I had to call him. No one else could stop Jake. And now, he’s gone. Stuck in Russia somewhere with his sister filling his head with stupid lies.” She sighed. “She finally got what she wanted. Her little brother, all to herself.”
She sniffled and wiped her nose. She tried to hide it, tried to look like she didn’t care but I saw it. I saw the love she felt for Jake in her eyes. I saw the hurt she felt at not being with him. At what he had become.
I wondered if by losing Dana, Jake lost a bit of his humanity, too. Maybe that was why he did what he did with me? Or maybe he was just a kid who’d never been told no. Who thought that no matter how terrible he acted, he was untouchable. Either way, he got what he deserved.
“Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Stephanie is gone, Ursula’s mom sent her to boarding school, everything is in shambles. The school needs a leader. We could be that leader.”
“We?”
“Yes. You and me can step in and fill the void. We can rule this school together. But you have to come back.”
I sighed. The old me would have jumped at the chance to be popular and to have Dana as an ally, no less. But the old me was dead. This was the new me. The me that knew the dark side of popularity. I would never step over to the dark side again.
“Dana-”
“Is this about me punching you in the Stamford Club because I was just doing it in solidarity with Stephanie?”
“No. It’s not about that. I don’t want to be popular. I’ll come back to school but it won’t be to fill some void. It will be so that I can be me.”
“But you’ll be alone. No friends. No allies. You’ll be invisible again.”
I let out a breath.
“I’d rather be happy and invisible than to be miserable and popular.”
“You’re joking? I’m offering you the tools you need to make your wildest dreams come true. You can’t just tell me no.”
I shook my head. “My dreams right now are to pass French and English and to try and get my friends back. Being popular is not going to help with any of that.”
Dana squeezed her lips together and walked past me, putting her hand on the door. She snatched it open and walked back out.
I sighed, sat on the couch and looked around at the mess that I’d been hiding in.
I bent down and began to clean it up.
65
I spent one more day at home and re-arrived back at school on Thursday.
I expected that everyone would stare at me. Whisper behind my back. Boo even. But there was nothing. No fanfare. No uproar.
A few people looked at me and whispered, but mostly, they looked through me. I’d been gone
from school for three days, and, already, I was forgotten about. A memory.
I tried to go about my day, to be normal, but it was hard. Ariel and Jasmine walked past me. Jasmine looked okay but Ariel looked shell-shocked. Devastated. Her hair was in a single braid down her back and her eyes were glossy. I wondered how many times she’d fallen apart since Monday. Once. Twice. Dozens. Guilt wracked through me that I had caused her this pain but I also felt guilty that I wasn’t there to catch her. To help put her back together like she’d done to me dozens of times.
I looked away, grabbed my books from my locker and walked to first period, on time for once.
I dove into my studies, collecting the homework and class notes that I’d missed over the past several days. Jake’s seat was empty in English class. Cole’s, too. I wondered where they were. Had Ivan changed his mind and banished both his sons to Russia? I swallowed down the sadness that rose in my throat at the thought of Cole and focused on Ms. Mitchell’s English lesson.
I ate lunch in the library and during study period, I went to visit Ms. Mitchell.
“Bella!” she said, a half-eaten apple in her hand. “Nice to see you out of fourth period.”
I smiled and sat in the middle seat of the front row.
“I just wanted to come by and say thank you.”
“For what, dear?”
“For pairing up Cole and me. You said that we would become friends and we did. So, thank you.”
She smiled wide.
“Thank you, dear. I have a sense about these things. I’ve always said it.”
“Yes, you have.”
“It’s a shame what happened with his mother,” she said, her eyes turning sad.
“What happened with his mother?”
“She passed this week. They’re somewhere in France, I think they are putting her to rest.”
I gasped, tears clawing up my throat for Cole. First his siblings, then his mother. He must have been hurting. Broken. I wanted to go to him. To hug him tight and to tell him that he was a good son. That he was loved. But he wasn’t here and so I whispered the words as I wrapped my arms around myself.
“You really cared for him, didn’t you?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Did you ever tell him how you felt?”
“No. I told him that I didn’t like him.”
I closed my eyes, wishing that things were different. But I couldn’t change the past. I could only look forward.
“I’m sure he knew. People are odd like that, always reading between the lines and hearing words that no one’s ever said and ignoring words that we say outright. Crazy creatures, we are.” She gave me a small smile. “I’m sure that it will all work out for the best. Love has a crazy way of knowing what it wants, no matter how much we try to persuade or tame it.”
I tried to believe her. I wanted to believe her.
“I know what will cheer you up.”
She pulled a book out of her desk. A beautiful, young couple on the cover caught my eye immediately.
“A good book is the best medicine.”
She stood and walked around her desk, handing me the book.
“Same time next week?” she asked.
I nodded. “Same time next week.” I got almost the entire way to the door before I turned around.
“Ms. Mitchell.”
“Yes, dear.”
“I’m glad that my dad chose you.”
She let out a breath, her cheeks reddening.
“Bella, that means so much. Thank you.”
I nodded and left. After Regina’s rant, I realized something. You can’t hold people so close that they never live. Regina tried to keep Jake all to herself and ended up hurting both of them in the end. I wanted Daddy to be happy. I wanted him to live, and if he decided that it was going to be with Ms. Mitchell, then I was happy with that decision.
66
The English project was due on Friday so Thursday night, I had a mini panic attack. If Cole wasn’t back, I was going to fail English. Maybe French, too. A hit like that would seriously affect my GPA. A low GPA meant getting in to college would be that much harder. A low-end college would mean a lower paying job. A low paying job meant that I couldn’t pay back my student loans. I pictured myself living with my father for the rest of my life. Or worse, ending up next to that homeless guy in the subway who always held up the peace sign.
There had to be a way to get in touch with Cole. I reached into my pocket and dug out my cell phone. My fingers danced over the buttons and found his number in my contact list. I was about to press the call button when I remembered. Cole wasn’t just out on some pleasure cruise. His mother had died. He was probably surrounded by family, being consoled in some French cottage. I couldn’t interrupt him. Not now. Not when he was in mourning.
I stuffed my phone back in to my jeans and resigned myself to homelessness.
Meanwhile, Dad moved around the kitchen, pots clanging, making dinner.
We were having pasta again. Daddy seemed to cook pasta a lot lately. Maybe because he was tired when he got home and wanted something quick. Maybe it was because I used to cook dinner on the weekdays but hadn’t since our lives turned upside down last week. Maybe it was because he knew that pasta was my favorite.
I left my phone on the couch and walked in the kitchen, realizing that there was someone else that I had to make amends with.
A pot lid clanged to the floor, followed closely by a metal spoon.
Daddy groaned, his brow already sweat-soaked.
I bent down to pick up both the top and the spoon and place them in the sink.
“Need some help?” I asked.
“Only if you’re offering,” he replied.
I walked over to the table, grabbed a paper towel from the holder and walked back over to my father. My hand raised to his shoulder and he turned to me. Gently, I dabbed at his sweaty forehead and ears.
Our eyes danced away from each other, neither of us knowing what to say.
What could I say? Daddy had raised me, basically alone, for the last six years. He bought me my first box of tampons, knew my favorite conditioner, had sewn buttons back on my shirts and taught me how to French braid my hair. We’d fallen apart together when Mom died and we’d built each other up so that we could keep going. He wasn’t the most hands-on dad but he was my dad, and I wanted him to be happy.
“I spoke to Ms. Mitchell today,” I said, my voice calm and even. I continued to carefully dab at his forehead, though the sweat was all gone now.
His eyes rose to mine, searching them for reasons why I would talk to his most likely ex-girlfriend.
“I told her that I was happy you chose her.” I balled up the paper towel and threw it in the trash can by the door. “I understand that you are a grown man with feelings.” I cringed at the thought, but pressed on. Daddy stood tall and still, waiting for my words. “But you’re also my dad. You’re the last parent that I had left and I guess I was holding on to you so tight because I didn’t want to lose you and I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I took a deep breath. “If you want to date Ms. Mitchell, that’s fine with me. I only ask that you are open with me about what’s going on in the relationship and don’t be gross with each other around me. Let’s start with firm handshakes and go from there, okay?”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Daddy wrapped me in a bear hug that raised my feet from the floor. He hadn’t hugged me like that in years. I held on tight, burying my face in his shoulder.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said in to my hair.
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, honey.”
We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms until my nose tingled. Something was burning. Something like…
The garlic bread!
I jumped out of Daddy’s arms and ran to the stove. I turned the white dial back to off and yanked the door opened.
The garlic bread was burnt black.
How long had it been in the ov
en? Where was Daddy’s usual timer?
“Well, there goes the garlic bread.” I sighed, pulling on a kitchen mitt so that I could dump it in the trash.
Daddy came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.
“How about we wrap this up for tomorrow and we go down to Sophia’s to get a pizza?”
His smile was warm. Loving. Fatherly.
I loved that smile.
“Fine,” I said, dumping the bread in the trash. “On one condition.”
“What?”
I threw the oven mitt at him.
“You invite Ms. Mitchell?”
Daddy’s eyes widened, a grin spreading over his face. He threw his arm around my shoulder and led me out of the kitchen.
“Not so fast, cowgirl. When I said that Leah and I were friends, I meant that. When we’re ready to move to the next step, you’ll be the first one to know.”
“Come on, Dad. I need her to pass me on my English project. My partner flaked. I figured maybe if I got her some pizza, she’d consider it.”
Dad laughed out loud. I did, too.
“Get your hat on, kid.” He pointed to the window. “It’s snowing out.”
I looked to the window, admiring the snowflakes that slid against it. Every one unique and beautiful. Every one special.
Just like Daddy.
Just like me.
67
“Excellent,” Ms. Mitchell said, clapping her hands.
Nadira and Kiln had done their short, dramatic piece on Much Ado about Nothing. In it, Kiln accused Nadira of texting another guy. He’d searched her phone and found the text. In the end, Kiln discovered that it wasn’t even Nadira’s phone and he apologized.
Not exactly the spirit of the play, but there was only five minutes and let’s face it, they weren’t the best English students in the world.