Dead Wrong

by Kristi Belcamino

Finally, the tears come.

  I sob into his shirt until it is wet.

  He leads me out and I blink in the light.

  There are at least two fire trucks and even more police cars.

  After a second, I notice that my mom standing near the road with Beth. “Mom!”

  I rush over and into her arms.

  She holds me for a long time.

  Beth’s dad had called her. She whispers soothing sounds into my ear. I curl into her embrace, tucking my hand out of the way, which is still screaming with pain.

  There is nobody else in the world I want right now more than my mom. I cringe when she accidentally bumps my hand. It is swollen to twice its size.

  “Oh my God, look at your hand.”

  A paramedic rushes over at my mom’s call and takes me to the back of an ambulance.

  “Looks like you might have a sprain, maybe a break. We’ll take you in and get some x-rays.”

  I give my mom a pleading look. “Can we go tomorrow? Please? Or later today? I don’t want to go to the hospital right now. Please mom?”

  Her brow furrows. “Would that be okay?”

  “I suggest you go now, but we can’t make you,” the paramedic, a young man with a crew cut, says. “How about I tape you up real good so you won’t jostle your hand, which will make it hurt more.”

  “Okay,” I say quickly.

  He works quickly, taping my fingers all together. “There you go. Promise me you’ll go get x-rays later, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  Beth comes over.

  “My dad called your mom. I’m sorry. He was worried. When I told him what was going on, he sort of over-reacted,” she gestures to the fire and police vehicles. “He sort of called out the cavalry.”

  “It actually wasn’t an over-reaction. I think he might have saved my life.”

  “Whoa,” Beth says.

  I explain briefly what I found out. When I’m done, she raises her eyebrows, looking at Raven standing off to the side, waiting.

  I turn to my mom.

  “Mom, since I’m sure I’m probably grounded for life anyway, I figure I should come clean all at once. I want you to meet someone.”

  I pull Raven toward me by his arm.

  “This is my boyfriend, Raven. This is my mom.”

  Her eyebrows rise slightly at the word “boyfriend.”

  Raven steps forward and extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  My mom hesitates for a second, long enough for disappointment to surge through me and then she steps forward and takes his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “How did you know I was here?” I asked Raven.

  After I left the Hard Times, Scrap called Raven and told him what was up. Raven headed straight over.

  “I was so worried I’d be too late,” he says and his voice chokes a little. “I never dreamed that Flip could do something like this. I would’ve trusted that dude with my life. I’m so sorry. I was such an idiot. So blind.”

  I shoot a glance at my mom who looks at him sideways and presses her lips together like she is trying not to cry.

  I step over and hold his hand with my good one, meeting her eyes. She nods.

  That’s when he notices my bandaged hand. “Did he do this to you?” His voice rises in anger and he starts to tug away, trying to head to the house. I hold his arm back.

  Beth’s dad comes over and asks us to step back for a minute. We back into the weeds as Flip is taken by on a stretcher. Handcuffed. He’s awake and blinking and swears at me as he passes. Raven lunges for him, but I pull him back. “It’s not worth it.”

  “He killed Danielle and he was going to kill you.”

  I think about that for a second.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  After I talk to the cops and tell them everything, Mom turns to Raven.

  “You hungry?”

  “I’m starved, ma’am.”

  “If you quit calling me ma’am and call me Mrs. Dawson or Sheila. “I’ll treat you both to banana nut pancakes at IHOP.”

  “Deal, Mrs. Dawson!”

  I glance over at Beth who is standing with her dad. And someone else.

  Curtis. He gives me a tiny wave.

  I rush over and give him a hug. “I’m such a jerk. I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you all summer.”

  He clamps his lips together and nods. “Okay.”

  “How, why are you here?”

  He juts his chin at Beth. “She called.”

  Beth smiles.

  “Curtis, I really am sorry.”

  “Okay,” he says and finally smiles.

  “Can I buy you some pancakes? My mom is taking me and Raven and I wanted to see if you and Beth could come.”

  He squints his eyes at Raven who has said something to my mom that made her laugh. When he catches us watching, he gives Curtis a salute.

  “Well, he must be okay if your ma approves.” He cracks a smile.

  “He is,” I say. “He is okay.”

  “Beth, you coming?”

  She looks over my shoulder where my mom and Raven are talking and laughing.

  “How about another time?”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m having a hard time with all this. You know, knowing that someone actually killed Danielle. I know that’s what we’ve been trying to find out. But it just sucks, you know.”

  “I’m sorry.” My eyes fill with tears again. She’s right. Someone killed our friend.

  I turn to leave but Beth reaches out and grabs my sleeve.

  “You know what, though?”

  I shake my head.

  “When I was just sitting here by myself thinking about Danielle, I got the strangest feeling.” She wipes away a tear and smiles at me. “I just got the feeling that Danielle would be happy that you and me are friends.”

  She shakes her head so hard her bangs fly back and forth over her eyes. “I’m sorry, that sounds so corny and stupid. I don’t know why I told you that.”

  I wait until she looks at me and I smile. “It’s not corny or stupid. I’d be really lucky to count someone as loyal as you as a friend.”

  Beth smiles as Curtis and I walk toward my mom’s car where she and Raven are waiting.

  At the last minute, Curtis takes me aside. “Maybe the first time he meets your mom should just be the three of you.” I start to protest and he takes my arm.

  “No, really. But you still owe me lunch at IHOP.”

  I reach over and give him a hug before hopping in the car.

  I’m still stunned by everything today, not least of which is my mom acting like it’s okay that Raven is my boyfriend. She even lets us sit in the back seat of her Honda together, saying, “This is a one-time thing, I’m not your chauffeur, you know,” and giving a strangled, short laugh.

  Raven reaches over to hold my hand — the uninjured one. My face flushes. I sneak a glance at him and see red creeping up his neck. When I notice my mom watching us in the rearview mirror, I jerk my hand back, but then she smiles and nods her okay and I weave my fingers through his again.

  We hold hands staring straight ahead until my mom pulls in the parking lot of the restaurant. I’m relieved to let go of his hand and get out of the car. So embarrassing.

  I slide into a seat next to my mom so he has to sit across from us. I have no idea why I’m so embarrassed. Isn’t this what I’ve dreamed of? Dating Raven and having my mother approve?

  We order our food and my mom makes small talk with Raven.

  “I love your name,” she starts and I feel a swell of love for her. Raven eagerly talks about his mom and his Native American roots.

  “I’ve always loved studying the Native American culture, especially the tribes that are here in Minnesota. If I had gone to college, I would’ve majored in that, I think,” my mom says and I give her a startled glance. They start talking about things I’ve never heard about, including some slaying that is now i
n the news connected to the U.S.-Dakota War in 1862. Some petition to the White House asking the President to pardon 38 Dakota executed in Mankato during the war. I listen in, trying to figure out what they are talking about. Apparently, the petition itself is controversial because asking for a pardon implies the Indians were guilty of some crime, which doesn’t appear to be the case at all. Instead, it looks like they were convicted in trials that lasted less than five minutes and they didn’t even have a chance to speak up in their own defense.

  Listening to Raven, who is so smart, polite, and mature, makes my heart beat double time. I feel a stab of pride when my mom shoots me an approving glance when he dips his head to eat.

  Suddenly, I am starving. I dig into the stack of pancakes at IHOP and then polish off my bacon, as well.

  For a moment, they grow quiet and I wait for the uncomfortableness to set in. But it doesn’t. My mom clears her throat and my stomach twists as I wait for what she is going to say.

  “You haven’t had it easy, have you?” she says, putting down her fork and meeting Raven’s eyes.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Do you ever think about finding a place to stay here in Minneapolis? Living here year round?”

  Does she want him to stay? I hold my breath waiting for his answer.

  He doesn’t answer right away. I can tell he’s really thinking about it.

  “Mrs. Dawson, I’m not sure I can. These people are my family now. I start to feel trapped — like I have claustrophobia or something — when I’m in one place too long.” Now it is his turn to clear his throat. He looks over at me and I freeze, afraid to breathe. He reaches over and holds my hand, right in front of my mom. “But ever since I met Emily, that has crossed my mind.”

  I wait for him to go on. He swallows hard and continues.

  “If I stay someplace too long or when I start to care too much, I run away. It’s what I do.”

  I stare ahead, frozen.

  My mom leans in.

  “That’s okay. That’s your coping mechanism. You’re afraid to get hurt. And you know what, we all are. I get it. And you’re young. I only hope one day that the feeling goes away. Because you can run and run, but you can’t run away from yourself.” I stare as her freckled hand gives his tattooed fingers a reassuring squeeze and I’ve never loved my mother more.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Today is the day I say goodbye to Raven.

  We spent our last week together at the beach, or at the café drinking coffee, or in my room, each of us curled up reading a book, holding hands with my one good hand — three fingers on my left hand ended up being sprained — and occasionally leaning over to kiss one another.

  My mom let us in my room alone, as long as we kept the door open. And she was always nearby in her room, watching TV.

  We never did have sex. I think we’re both okay with that. I don’t think I’m ready. Not just yet.

  Now, it’s time to say goodbye. He is taking the bus to meet some friends in Blaine and they are all traveling to the Sugar Beet Harvest together.

  Flip is in jail. He confessed everything. Jazz is heartbroken, Raven said. She went back to her parents home in Pennsylvania. Her mom welcomed her with open arms, sobbing, he said.

  Raven might come back to testify. My mom says he will always have a place to stay with us. But he says it will be too hard for him to come back.

  I still don’t know why Danielle called me that night. Maybe she was onto Flip’s obsession with her. I still don’t know why she held her finger up to her lips as if asking me to keep this new life of hers secret. I don’t have all the answers, but I did keep my promise to her. I know how she died and who was responsible. And that’s going to have to be enough.

  My mom has dropped us off at the station and is now waiting in her car in the nearby parking lot, giving us our privacy.

  The bus pulls up.

  This is it.

  He grabs me in a big hug and holds me close, breathing down into my hair. I close my eyes. I thought I would cry, but I’m suddenly calm. Certain.

  I pull back. “Wait. I have something for you.”

  I hand him the book. The Raven Tales.

  “Cool! I thought this was out of print?”

  “It is. I tracked down a copy.” I don’t tell him it cost me $225.

  “Wow. Thanks!” He leans down and gives me a hug.

  Inside I had written: To Raven, who made me realize that light and love can be found in the darkest moments of life.

  He holds it close to his chest. “This is great, really great, Em.”

  A whooshing sound, the bus releasing its brakes, startles us into action and we rush to the bus door. The driver has his hand on the switch to close the door.

  “Just one second,” Raven says. “Please?”

  The bus driver rolls his eyes, but leaves the door open.

  Raven leans down and kisses me then, in the doorway of the bus, with everyone watching. When he finally pulls away, his face is shiny with tears. He scrubs at his face with the sleeve of his leather motorcycle jacket and gives a short laugh. “Tough guy.”

  I pull him down once more and gently kiss him on the forehead before he turns away. I watch his back as he steps onto the bus and reach out a hand to stop him. But I know I can’t. I retreat into the shadows of the bus shelter where nobody can see the tears running down my face.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  I watch Raven make his way down the aisle in the bus.

  The bus lights are on and all the passengers are lit up like they are on stage. I can see everyone so clearly. They can’t see me hiding in the dark shadows of the bus shelter, watching, and swallowing a sob that threatens to burst out of my throat as the tears continue to flow.

  The sadness hurts in a way that surprises me. It doesn’t send me to my knees careening in pain like Danielle’s death did. It is a shade of melancholy mingled with other feelings that don’t make sense right now — gratefulness and hope — feelings I haven’t had for a very long time.

  I’m grateful that Raven came into my life. And I’m hopeful for the future now. I realize that part of my eating was about me not loving myself enough. A lot of it — most of it — is brain chemistry, something I have zero control over, but the key to keeping it at bay is to love and accept myself just the way I am.

  For the first time in my life, I’m okay with who I am. I will be eternally grateful to Raven for that gift he gave me — helping me to realize I’m worthy of love. Exactly how I am at this moment.

  Raven makes his way down the aisle, stooped from the big backpack that holds all his worldly belongings. I know inside that pack, he has three flannel shirts, two extra pairs of jeans, five T-shirts, six pairs of socks my mom bought for him, underwear, a small toiletries kit, a camera and four books.

  He takes a seat in the back of the bus. For a moment, before he looks up to find me, his head is bowed.

  I want to give him a moment of privacy so I fumble in my bag for a stick of gum until I feel his eyes searching. I step out of the shadows into the streetlight so he can see me, all of me, crying and smiling and laughing. The look in his eyes stops me short. What I see in his eyes surprises me — longing. He wants to be where I am. He wants to be in my world, like once upon a time I wanted to be in his.

  Even from here, I can see his eyes growing moist and it makes tears stream from my eyes. I don’t wipe them away. Only shrug as he notices.

  In some ways, it’s just like the first time I saw him, but then again, it’s nothing like the first time I saw him.

  This time he’s the one on the bus.

  This time it isn’t me alone on the bus watching him full of life on the sidewalk. This time I’m on the other side of the glass. I’m the one outside and free with the whole world before me.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Getting to know my readers and building strong relationships with them is one of the best parts of being a writer. I’d love to know more about you and more about wh
at you thought about this book. What did you like about it? Who was your favorite character? What do you want to see, or think will happen next?

  Please reach out to me and let me know. I want to hear from you. Because while I’m a writer, I’m always a reader first. I know that when it comes to the books I read, I love connecting with the author. Often, when I interact with authors I love I get downright giddy!

  Ask my family how I act each and every time S.E. Hinton responds to my tweets. (HINT: I am a ridiculously starstruck fangirl! Every. Single. Time.)

  Or what about the time I got to interview Jackie Collins on Huffington Post’s live video. (Still one of the greatest moments of my writer life!) (Only thing that tops that is when I opened up an email from Lisa Unger telling me that she read and liked my book and would be happy to support it with a quote we could use on the book cover! A dream come true right then and there!

  Or years and years ago when I was a new, sleep-deprived mother who looked forward to my monthly book club for every second of the days leading up to it and having the New York Times bestselling author Adriana Trigiani call into our bookclub. (I had her on speakerphone and when I said hello, she said, “Hey, baby, how’s it going?” and proceeded to chat with us and talk to us about what we thought would happen in her next book.

  I told myself right then and there that if I were ever a published author I would interact with readers the say she did. And sometimes dreams come true! I’m a published writer who has readers who enjoy my books. Even writing that still seems surreal.

  So, all of this leads me to tell you about my two favorite ways to interact with my readers:

  My newsletter. My private Facebook group. Hopefully you will consider joining both.

  I send out a newsletter with details of new releases, special offers, giveaways and other bits of news about my books.

  When you sign up for my no-spam mailing list, I’ll send you all of this free stuff:

  A copy of GIA, the Gia Santella introductory novella.

  A copy of THE SAINT, the introductory novella for my Gabriella Giovanni series.

  A copy of EVA, the introductory novella for the Queen of Spades series.