by Wesley King
“But—”
“Please?”
The way she said it made me flinch. But she didn’t make me promise.
“Okay.”
I followed her downstairs. We ate ice cream and watched two movies, and I said nothing about the bruises, but my eyes kept going to her arm. Those were just the bruises I could see.
How many more were there?
* * *
James came over unannounced on Tuesday afternoon. My mom answered the door, and he asked if I would go for a walk. I said yes because I didn’t want my mom to overhear us. I put on a scarf and a jacket, and we walked down the street in silence. His mouth kept opening but saying nothing, and his hands moved around awkwardly, from pocket to head to pocket again.
Finally, when we rounded the corner, he stopped and turned to me and met my eyes.
“Sara, I’m sorry about the other day.”
I stopped too. “It’s fine.”
“I shouldn’t have acted like that. I know. I feel bad.”
I looked at him. No plaid. No bags under the eyes. No sadness. That James was gone. He was feeling better, and he didn’t need a crazy girl to help talk him through.
“I should get back,” I said.
“Sara … aren’t we going to talk? How have you been doing—”
I turned away. I could feel him looking at me.
“I feel terrible,” he said. “I meant what I said all those times. I did.”
“Not all of it.”
“Sara—”
“I don’t have a lot of people in my life,” I said, staring at the road, but not walking, not yet. “But I don’t need halves. I can’t be friends with James in the park but not James at home.”
James tried to take my hand, but I stepped away. There were tears in his eyes now.
“I just need time to explain things to people. You helped me, and I owe you. …”
“I’m glad I helped you,” I said. “You don’t owe me anything. It was a nice time away.”
“Away from what?” he asked, wiping his nose.
“From Sara Malvern.”
Then I started back down the road for home.
“Good-bye, James.”
As I walked away, he got smaller and smaller behind me until he was nothing at all.
NOTE (ON FRIENDSHIP)
You might be thinking, Sara, you only have two friends. Can’t you give him another chance?
But when you spend most of your life being silent to protect yourself and then the first boy to come along makes your heart hurt, then you could probably be forgiven for being rash.
Maybe it was a mistake to give up on him so easily. I don’t know.
But Erin told me I was special, and I guess I wanted all my friends to think that.
CHAPTER 23 PLANS
I went back to group therapy on Thursday, and Dr. Ring smiled when I sat down next to Erin.
“Now,” he said, opening his notebook and readying his pen. “I have a few things I want to touch on, but let’s just check in with everyone first. Erin, did you have a productive week?”
She glanced at me and smiled. “I think so.”
“It’s good to work through issues,” Dr. Ring agreed. “Especially with friends.”
Erin leaned into my shoulder. “It’s so good to have the dynamic duo together again,” she said softly. “It’s been a roller coaster.”
“It was really only a week.”
“I know,” she replied. “It was agonizing.”
I bit back a laugh.
“I thought we might talk about family this week,” Dr. Ring said. “How we can help them understand our issues. Strategies for helping them help you. We all need a good support system.”
I couldn’t help it. I glanced at Erin’s arms, which were covered with a long-sleeve shirt. She must have noticed, because she tucked her hands in her lap, keeping her eyes firmly on Dr. Ring. I had been thinking about the bruises since Monday. And about my promise to help her.
On the way to the parking lot Erin linked her arm with mine.
“Chill this weekend?” she said. “We could go to the movies.”
I opened my mouth to argue, and she just waved me away and laughed.
“Kidding. We are clearly going to ostracize ourselves from society for a while. Your house.”
“Good,” I said. I hesitated. “Erin?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever told anyone … about your dad?”
She glanced behind me as we headed for the curb. My mom was parked nearby, reading, and her dad was waiting in his car in front of the office. I could see his face in the orange glare.
“No,” she said curtly, turning to face me. “I don’t need to.”
“Your mom—”
“No. Well, some. It’s nothing. He gets mad sometimes, like I said. At everyone, but me the most. He gets frustrated about my … stuff. The picking. He is trying to help. It’s fine. Really.”
She was talking even faster than usual.
I frowned. “But—”
“Sara, just leave it, okay. I love you, bestie, but I don’t need your help with this. Please.”
“Okay,” I said, flushing. “Sorry.”
She hugged me and started for the car. “See you Saturday. Buy more ice cream.”
They drove off. I watched them until they were out of sight. I should have left it alone.
But I had the tenets to think of, along with the promise.
And those tenets said that I needed to help.
* * *
“Daddy?”
He was making coffee and yawning. It was almost dinnertime, but he had fallen asleep on the couch after work and slept for two hours. Mom was going to be out late with her friends.
“Yeah?”
I hesitated. I had decided to help Erin, but I didn’t want to just go and tell an adult about everything. For one thing, they might not believe me. Erin was clearly not going to say anything, and her mom either knew or believed the stories about wrestling. So how could I prove her dad was hurting her if Erin would just lie about it? I had done some research on my mom’s laptop when I got home. My parents could call Child Protective Services. They might launch an investigation and find something. But then it got tricky. Maybe they would take Erin away from him, but they might take her away from her mom, too. And then what?
No matter what, Erin would know I was responsible. And she would hate me forever if she got put in a foster home. There was no way to tell an adult without getting it reported.
This was the right choice. The safe one. But … I wondered if there was a way I could make it easier on Erin. If I could let her make the choice. My efforts to convince her to tell weren’t working. But if I got evidence to prove he was hurting her, that might be different. I could show it to Erin and give her the chance to report it or tell her mom. That way maybe Erin could stay at home with her family, and she wouldn’t get hit anymore, and she might not hate me.
Well, not as much, anyway. So, it was time to start.
“Can I get a GoPro?” I asked.
He yawned again and took a deep sip of coffee. “A what?”
“It’s a camera. It has a really long battery so you can film for a long time.”
“Why would you want that?”
This wasn’t a lie, I reminded myself. I was just bending the truth.
“Erin and I are working on something. A movie. I’m the director. She’s the star.” I forced a smile. “They’re not that expensive. Early Christmas gift? Oh, and maybe a recorder. Or two.”
“A recorder—”
“Sound is important. It’s a … documentary. On family life for the mentally ill.”
Oh, that was low. I was supposed to save that as a last resort. But it worked.
He took another drink of coffee, watching me. “Is it on … our family?”
“Hers.”
He motioned me to the table and sat down heavily. “I don’t like when you say ill.”
&n
bsp; “Right. Mentally … unhealthy?”
“Mentally unique,” he said, though he grinned. “You’re a bugger. All right. What store?”
“Just need your credit card. I can order it all online.”
He sighed. “Naturally. Go get it out of my wallet. Try not to put me on the streets.”
“Love you, Daddy,” I said, starting for the front closet.
He caught my arm. “Sara, your mom and I are fine.”
“You said that already.”
“And I say it again,” he muttered, meeting my eyes. “But even if that changed, it wouldn’t affect how we feel about you. You are the priority. But things can … do … change.”
I thought about that. There was something in his voice that worried me. Defeat, maybe.
“You wouldn’t leave without me, right?” I asked him quietly.
“Never,” he said.
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he said.
I gave him a hug. “If you need to leave, I’ll come with you. Anywhere.”
“I know,” he said into my shoulder. “Now go get your film equipment, Spielberg.”
I didn’t feel good about bending the truth. But as I ordered the camera and recording devices, I was already planning. Get to Erin’s, plant the equipment, and gather my evidence.
And a small part of me knew that maybe two families were on their way to breaking.
* * *
As I sat with Erin on Saturday night, eating ice cream and watching Drive, I tried to think of a plan.
“You know,” Erin said, mouth full of ice cream, “I might be a criminal if I could date Ryan Gosling. Not like, murder or anything, but maybe a robber. Like, I would think about it.”
I just nodded, only half listening.
“I told Penny off today. You know that evil eighth grader I told you about? She put her fingers over her eyebrows and pretended to be me.”
I glanced at her. “What did you do?”
“I told her she was a soulless wench. I really said wench. I’ve been playing Warcraft.”
I laughed without thinking, covering my mouth. “What did she say?”
“Not much. I think she was trying to figure out what a wench was.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s tough being brilliant. Well, you know. I saw your test scores on your desk.”
“You did?”
Ms. Hugger did give me a lot of tests. And I didn’t get much wrong. Ever.
“Yeah. Even your state ones. You’re like a prodigy. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know—”
“Because you have no confidence, silly! Rhetorical question. Are you doing your drill?”
She had asked me to tell my reflection I was awesome every night before bed.
“Yes—”
“Keep doing it. Beautiful, smart, bizarrely funny. You should be full of yourself.”
I laughed. “You forgot crazy.”
“So? Derek Hogan gets to be cocky, and he has the personality of that popcorn bowl.” She reached out and plunked some in her mouth. “Listen, I don’t always have the confidence either. I told you I cry in the stupid mirror sometimes. I feel ugly and I pick and then I feel uglier. The point is this: I have issues. But that’s my thing. I’m working on it. Nobody else gets to tell me what I am.”
I stared at her. I thought of all the names. Retard. Freak. Psycho Sara. People had been telling me what I was my whole life. And I had believed those names—seen myself as them. I had hated myself and made all my rules trying to become someone other than Psycho Sara. My own inner voice referred to me like that.
But maybe I could change that voice.
She looked at me, smiling. “You look spacey, Star Child.”
“I am,” I murmured. “I am a Star Child.”
She shook my wrist, sending the bracelet jangling. “Obvi.”
To her, I had been one for weeks. But not to me. Not fully. Not until that moment, watching the little stars dangle from my wrist. A Star Child was special. A Star Child didn’t have to be normal. They couldn’t be. Which meant there was something I had to do. Right now.
“Come with me,” I said, heading to my room.
Erin jumped up after me. “What are you doing? Why do you look kind of murderous?”
“Because I need to destroy something.”
She followed me up the stairs. “Sweet.”
I led her into my room, opened my drawer, and took out the notebook. The Rules for Being Normal. The guidelines I had tried to use for the last two years. Tried and always failed.
I opened the first page and showed it to her. She read them silently, shaking her head.
“How many?” she asked quietly.
“One hundred and fifty-four.”
Erin grinned. “Time to die, normal rules.”
I ripped the page out and tore it up. Then the next. They all came out; then I tore those up too. Soon we were both laughing and ripping and sending pieces everywhere until the carpet looked like snow. I looked around, giggling.
Erin had a scrap in her hair. She was grinning wildly.
“How will you live now?” she asked.
“By the Tenets of Star Children,” I replied. “Oh, that reminds me.”
I took out the tenets and grabbed a pen. Then I added one more to make it five.
A Star Child never gives up, even when it is really, really, hard.
Erin read it and smiled. “Perfect. They’re done.”
“We are bound by the five grand tenets,” I said, saluting. “I am a Star Child until death.”
She saluted back. “Welcome aboard. Question number one: Do you have a vacuum?”
I looked around at the mess, and I started laughing again until my eyes watered.
She joined in, and we stood there in the paper snow, laughing like crazy.
CHAPTER 24 A NATURAL SPY
My package arrived on Tuesday. As soon as my dad handed it to me, I ran to my room to test it. The confetti was gone, and the rules with them. The tenets were the only guidelines I had left.
I ripped open the package and examined its contents, satisfied. It was the smallest GoPro available, and the recording devices were even smaller, about the size of a USB stick. Those would be easy to hide, but the camera was going to be tricky. I needed clear sightlines, obviously, and I would have to choose a spot wisely—somewhere the camera could see but not be seen.
I experimented with them until I was comfortable, and then I made my plans.
One bonus was that I was so busy planning my mission that I didn’t have time to play many Games during the week. Ms. Hugger and I even ate lunch in the cafeteria.
There was a small change. Nothing big. Nothing visible. Just because I was an official Star Child didn’t mean I was going to start talking to people or tap dancing in the hallways. But it did mean that I didn’t spend half the day wishing I was anywhere but the Crazy Box. It meant I wasn’t watching to see who was whispering “Psycho Sara” or calling me a freak when I walked by.
And that small change made a big difference in my day. I wasn’t looking for anyone to tell me what I was. That was my job, and I had decided to listen to Erin: Sara was awesome.
When I had the new devices organized, I picked up my cell phone. Now for Part B.
Sara: Want to hang out this week?
Erin: Obvi!! When?
Sara: Tomorrow night?
Erin: Wednesday hangouts. Love it. Take that, school night. What time should I come?
This was where I had to bend the truth again. It’s for the greater good, I reminded myself. Always telling the truth wasn’t technically a tenet. But helping a fellow Star Child was.
Sara: My parents are going out. I was wondering if I could come there for a bit?
Erin: Oh. Sure. You remember that my house is messy and my family sucks, right?
Sara: Yeah.
Erin: Okay. Are they going to drop you off? When?
Sara: After dinner. 7?
Eri
n: It’s a date. If you bring ice cream, it will not be turned away.
Sara: Noted.
I put the phone down and sighed. I didn’t like lying to Erin, but that was about to be the least of our issues. Could I get away with my spying? Could I get my evidence back again? And even if I did, how would she react? Probably by punching me in the nose. I chewed on my nails.
It wasn’t too late. I could return the spying equipment. I could keep Erin’s secret.
I went to the bathroom. It was almost nine, so I brushed my teeth for bed and stared in the mirror, thinking. This was going to end badly. One way or the other, I was going to hurt Erin. But her father was hurting her worse. I thought of the mottled bruises. The birthday party.
That look on his face while he held her. It made my skin crawl.
How could I be a Star Child if I let him hurt my friend? How could I like myself if I kept something like that a secret? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I spit out my toothpaste and stared at myself.
“You are awesome, Sara Malvern,” I said.
I didn’t sleep well. I rolled around for hours and had a panic attack and felt spacey after that. My limbs felt heavy. But I kept saying it anyway. This was all a test. Part of the process.
A Star Child had to be strong.
“You are awesome,” I whispered, sleep finally pulling at my eyes. “You are strong.”
* * *
“Can I use your bathroom?” I said.
We were sitting on the carpet in Erin’s room, doodling and talking and debating whether we needed any more tenets. Erin looked tired today. She had pulled more hair in the last few days. Her eyebrows were basically gone again now, aside from some stubble, and her lashes, too. I didn’t say anything. She was working on that. She was getting help.
Dr. Ring knew about that.
But for the third time, I had spotted a bruise. It was at the base of her neck, probably extending out from her shoulder. She had seen me looking and put her hoodie back on, forcing a smile. Too late. If I hadn’t been sure of going ahead with the plan before, I was now.