DW: These are my friends, Ryan and Katie. They found out it was my Birthday today and decided to take me out. And I decided to just go with the flow and let things be what they’re going to be. Probably should have done this years ago.
I’ve known Ryan since I moved here. We met about a month before he broke his face trying to play hockey and we’ve sort of been friends ever since, though until recently, I didn’t realize how similar we truly are. We both have messed up home lives we don’t talk about. But finding out hasn’t changed anything between us — which was unexpected and completely spectacular! So I guess now I believe in miracles or something. Granted, I know tons more about his crap life than he knows about mine, but he’s seen more than most and didn’t even bat an eye. He did profusely wash his hands though — first time touching a real live cow! I wish I’d taken a picture. I hope I never forget the look on his face — complete panic, but still trying to play it cool.
Katie is “that girl” the one I thought was crushing on me, the one I kissed at that party. Turns out, she’s actually pretty awesome with a pretty good head on her shoulders. I knew all that, I just couldn’t see it when I thought she was chasing after me. She swears she’s never had a crush on me, though. But… I don’t know… I feel like there’s something I’m missing. If she didn’t like me, why did she let me kiss her? Why wasn’t she at least pissed about it?
This is going to sound weird but sometimes she reminds me of you. It’s hard to tell from this picture, but sometimes I think she looks a bit like you too. Or like a much younger relative — like a cousin, a distant cousin.
KF: I’m sorry I missed texting you a Happy Birthday on your birthday. I’m happy you went out with people you consider to be your friends, and I hope you had an amazing time!
She let you kiss her because she wasn’t opposed to it. She wasn’t pissed about it because you’re her friend, and she didn’t have any expectations.
And I can totally see the resemblance… that’s basically what I look like without a bunch of make-up and hair extensions.
Too far? Too much? As soon as I hit send I felt like I’d crossed a line. That’s me, without my cape — a duh! And then I got this text:
DW: Woah. Hair extensions? You mean you don’t naturally grow blue feathers?
Denial is a strange beast.
Chapter 27
Dominic collapsed into the seat next to me the following Monday looking like he’d aged five years since Friday. “You okay?” I asked, reaching to feel his forehead with the back of my hand.
He didn’t feel particularly hot or cold, which ruled out very little. But then, in a move I wouldn’t have expected in — ever, he placed his hand over mine and held it against his head while he took a breath and let it out again. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t sick, but he definitely wasn’t feeling well. “Do you have any painkillers?” his voice was low and gruff and worn.
I reached for the stash of Advil I keep in my bag and handed them over. He took four. “So, not okay?” I pressed.
He pushed a weak smile as he handed me back the little bottle of pills. “I will be,” he assured. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But I do worry,” I said. “You know I do,” I added — because apparently I forgot this wasn’t an over the phone thing.
He breathed out a half laugh, half sigh, and shook his head. And then he leaned over his desk with his head tucked into his arms and fell asleep.
Dr. Murphy is a really big fan of seeing things as they are and not as we assume them to be, so when he saw Dominic sleeping on his desk he asked if he was okay.
“Migraine,” I explained, though it was totally an assumption on my part.
Dr. Murphy nodded, turned off the overhead lights and continued his lesson on reverse psychology. The world needs more teachers and more people like Dr. Murphy.
Dominic shot upright in his seat when the bell rang, taking a stiff breath in through his nose. It didn’t take him very long to orient himself, and he swore under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Murphy. That’s—” he started then stopped, looking perplexed as he noticed the lights were off. “It’ll never happen again.”
Dr. Murphy put his hand up. “I get migraines, Dominic,” he explained. “If you need to go lie down in the nurses office, I’m happy to write you a note.”
“Oh,” Dominic glanced in my direction. “No, but thanks, Dr. Murphy. I think all I really needed was that little power nap,” he pushed a smile — it wasn’t a hundred percent fake, there was definitely a smidgen of relief in his grin, but he mostly looked miserable.
I really wanted to believe it was just a migraine, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that there was something else going on that he clearly didn’t want to talk about. By the time we got to 2nd period, Business Management with Mrs. Whitney, Dominic was basically back to his old self, except for all the yawning. Half of them he was trying to hide behind deep breaths, but a yawn is a yawn is a yawn, no matter how it’s disguised.
And the damned things are contagious!
Ryan scowled in Dominic’s direction as he yawned for the umpteenth time, this was just after Dominic’s ump-thirty-something-th yawn. Ryan stretched his arms out this time, passing me a note as he did. It was kind of adorable. The note was folded into a tight triangle, the same kind some kids liked to flick through finger made goal posts, and had my initials on it. “Aww,” I cooed at it. “Is your cell phone okay?” I whispered.
His dimples showed and he winked at me. “Meet me for lunch?”
I nodded.
Third Period, IT with Mr. Newman, Dominic headed directly for the computers in the far back corner. I followed. He looked surprised to see me when I sat down next to him.
“If there’s something I can do to help, will you at least let me?” I asked.
“You had painkillers,” he reminded. “Now I just need…” his eyes widened, while he considered. He shook his head and let out a breath he’d been holding. “Sleep,” he ran his hand over his face. “I need sleep. You can’t help with that.”
I shook my head. “I know there’s something else going on with you. I wish you’d just tell me what it is. We are friends now aren’t we?”
Dominic shrugged. “Yeah. And I try to make an effort to not dump pointless shit all over my friendships.”
“So I was right, there is something else going on. You just don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah. I’d say that’s an accurate statement,” he turned his attention to the computer.
“Why?”
Dominic turned to look at me, his expression debating. Eventually he shrugged and said, “I just don’t think that’s really a part of our relationship dynamic. Don’t think it really needs to be.”
“I don’t think you have that kind of relationship with anyone,” I huffed.
It was one thing to keep things from the me he knew in the real world, but why hadn’t he said anything to phone me? Was is really not that big of a deal and I was just being overly dramatic and worrying about nothing? Well, maybe not nothing, but something that’s really not worth mentioning — like having diarrhea all night or staying up binge watching a show you’d rather not have anyone know you watched.
Like that time I binged all three seasons of Wicked’s Way. I had to watch it. It was based on a book series that was only so-so, but oddly addictive. The TV version was comically bad and yet, somehow, even more addictive.
“I don’t need people to worry about me,” he huffed back. “I don’t like it,” he added. “I can take care of myself.”
“Is there a problem over here?” Mr. Newman was suddenly standing in front of our computer station.
“I don’t have a problem,” Dominic said with his eyes on the screen, then he turned his whole person to me, as if he was trying to prove a point. “Do you have a problem?”
I narrowed my eyes at Dominic. “I’m all good Mr. Newman, thanks for asking.”
Mr. Newman cleared his throat. “Less talking, more comp
uting,” he tapped the tops of our screens before moving on.
We didn’t really talk in English lit.
He sat in the back though, which was odd, so I did too. He fell asleep again.
Annabelle cornered him after class. “What’s up with you?” She stopped in front of him, blocking his way, looking both worried and tight-jaw angry.
“Late night,” he shrugged. “What’s up with—”
“Bullshit.” Annabelle snapped. Literally. Her voice was plenty abrupt but she also snapped her fingers right in his face. “You don’t sleep in class,” she hissed. “Are you dying or something?”
Dominic chuckled and pulled Annabelle into a hug. “Look at you, worrying about me. I’m fine,” he let her go. “I pulled two triples over the weekend. It was good money but hella stupid. I’ll recover.” He lifted a shoulder. He’d also began to fidget with the strap on his backpack.
Dominic has always had a bizarre and mostly not talked about relationship with Annabelle. I suddenly felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. He couldn’t have said that exact same thing to me? No, I realized, because he’s lying. Maybe not entirely, but there was still something he wasn’t saying. I could tell, and I hated it. Did I hate it because I couldn’t also magically know the truth, or was it just because I could tell he wasn’t being truthful? Or maybe I was a crazy person, imagining the whole thing. Either way, it was infuriating.
“Why are you still here?” Annabelle scowled at me around Dominic.
“Because you’re blocking the aisle,” I motioned.
“There’s other aisles, you know?” she rolled her eyes at me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting Ryan for lunch?” Dominic asked me.
“Aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “You want to walk with us?” He asked Annabelle.
“With her?” Her face pinched like she’d just stepped in poo. “No!” she yapped, then sighed with a forced smile. “Besides, I still have to have my lunches with Mr. Grady.” She stuck her tongue out, and poked a finger in her mouth.
“Well, I’ll walk you there, then,” he offered.
“Just you,” she clarified.
“Yeah,” he assured with a half shrug, his fidgeting threatening to wear completely through his backpack strap.
Annabelle whipped around so quickly her hair smacked against Dominic, but at least she was moving.
“Where’s Dominic?” Ryan asked, first thing.
“He’s walking Annabelle to lunch.”
Ryan huffed. “AKA detention, in her case. Why?”
“She was worried about him,” I let out an exasperated breath, so I wouldn’t explode.
“Yeah, he did seem a little off.”
“He’s way off,” I said.
Ryan tapped me on the chin. “It’s gonna be okay, Kat, I promise.”
“You can’t make promises like that,” I tilted my head at him.
“I like to live dangerously,” he shrugged. “Did you read my note?”
“Not yet.”
“It can wait ’til later, when you’re alone,” he smiled. “Janie Gallagher, asked me about you today,” he changed the subject. “Apparently there’s some rumor going around that I might be into you.”
“Did you start this rumor?” I asked.
“That’s the best part,” he grinned. “I didn’t.”
“You’re going to break so many hearts,” I teased.
“C’mon. You make me sound like the bad guy. You’ve seen what they can be like.”
“I never said they didn’t deserve it.”
“I also heard that a lot of people are intimidated by you.”
“Intimidated? Isn’t that’s just code for ‘think you’re a bitch’?”
Ryan chuckled. “Pretty much. Janie said, she’d heard that you were a bitch, and then I said that you totally weren’t and then Adria said, ‘Just because someone knows what they want and doesn’t take shit from people doesn’t make them a bitch.’ It was pretty epic.”
“Aww, Adria gets me.”
Ryan pointed at me. “See, now that’s how rumors get started.”
“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes at him and grabbed his finger.
“And now people are going to think we had sex,” he motioned to our hands.
“They already think that,” I sneered at him. “Remember?”
“Yeah, but not in the lunchroom.”
“Ew.” I made a face and let go of his finger, but I also laughed.
“So you wanna go find Dominic and go out for lunch?”
Before I could answer the PA system dinged — loudly. And everybody in and near the school heard Vice Principal Stephens say, “Dominic Weedon, please come to the office, immediately. Dominic Weedon. To the office. Immediately.”
Ryan and I didn’t say a word to each other, we both just started walking.
・❀・❀・❀・
Red-Headed Office Lady stopped us with a “Bup, bup, bup!” and a hand up. “What are you two doing here?”
“Hey Ms. Joan,” Ryan smiled at her, all charm. “We just came to see if everything’s okay with Dominic.” Ryan’s brow furrowed with concern. “He hasn’t been acting like himself today, we’ve been worried, and then the immediate call to the office?” Ryan looked up at Ms. Joan with the biggest puppy dog eyes. “He’s my best friend, how could I not be here for him?”
There was no way this was going to work, but I put on my best sad and worried face, which was easy because I was actually feeling that way and added. “Is he okay?”
Ms. Joan sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you what’s going on. I can tell you that Dominic is in a lot of trouble. The police are talking with him right now, and his grandparents are on their way. And that’s all I can say.”
“Dominic, being in trouble? That doesn’t sound like him,” Ryan said.
“No it doesn’t,” I agreed.
“Ms. Joan,” Ryan pleaded. “What is going on?”
Ms. Joan looked torn.
Just then the door to Principal Howard’s office opened and a police officer stepped out. Behind him, I saw Dominic. He had his back to the door and he was in cuffs.
Time and all perceivable reality froze in that moment, searing the image into my brain, as all my survival instincts kicked in and then exploded in my head with nowhere to go because I had exactly no idea what to do in this situation. “Omigawd!” I gasped and grabbed Ryan by the arm, pointing at the horror I’d just caught sight of and panic whispering, mostly to Ryan. “What the fuck is going on right now? This can’t be happening. Why is this happening?”
“Language,” Ms. Joan scolded, sounding authentically offended — as if she didn’t work in a high school. I’d heard the F-bomb at least three times on my walk from the cafeteria to the office.
Ryan pulled me into a firm hug against him. “Hey, hey,” he soothed. “It’s going to be okay. Is Dominic in there?”
I could feel the deep lines of worry furrowing into my brow, possibly permanently, as I looked up into cool blue eyes of concern. “He was in cuffs, Ryan.”
Ryan leaned close to Ms. Joan. “My apologies in advance for the language, but what the fuck is going on here?”
Ms. Joan frowned. “I understand that he’s your friend, Ryan, but I can’t tell you. Student confidentiality is part of my job. I’m afraid the best I can do for you is let you talk to one of the guidance counselors,” she shrugged. “Technically, I’m supposed to send you back to class, or detention,” she added with a roll of her eyes.
I set my head against Ryan’s chest, and he consoled me with back pats.
“Oh look,” a gruff old voice announced the arrival of Dominic’s Grandpa. Ryan and I both turned. “I see you’ve brought in his two accomplices as well,” he said to the officer next to him as he pointed at us and half grinned half sneered. “I want them arrested as well!” he growled.
And just like that I had a target for my freeze, fight, fawn, flight response, and it was mostly fight. “Arres
ted for what?” I challenged.
“Breaking and entering, thievery, mischief,” he grumbled.
His crotchety other half was right behind him, quick to add, “They had no right!” whatever that was supposed to mean. I think she just wanted to be talking.
I took a step toward them. “Did you mean: visiting Dominic where he lives, bringing him gifts, and taking him out for his birthday?”
The old man laughed, like he had one over on us now. “You think I don’t know what you three get up too?”
“I do think that. It’s obvious.”
“He stole my truck,” the old man grumbled.
“You killed his dog,” I shot back.
The old man sneered and coughed out something like a chuckle. Just as he opened his mouth to say more—
The officer next to him cleared his throat, loudly. It was officer Cooper, the schools assigned officer. He had a similar build to Dominic and Ryan, and one of those relatable, friendly, faces. “You three need to stop talking to each other. You two wait over there for me,” he pointed to where we were already standing. “Joan, is there another office I can put Mr. And Mrs. Weedon in?”
Ms. Joan picked up the phone, pressed a button and said, “Mr. Pringle, can you come out here please?” Mr. Pringle poked his head out of his office. “These folks need to use your office,” she informed.
“Uhm…” Mr. Pringle looked confused as he assessed the room. “All righty.”
Something wasn’t going to plan. I hoped that was a good thing, but it probably wasn’t.
“He killed his dog?” Ryan asked against my ear.
I shrugged. “It’s a theory.”
“I believe it.”
As the officer escorted the horrible old people to Mr. Pringle’s office I seized the opportunity to find Dominic an advocate. “Mr. Pringle, I know Dominic is technically an adult, but this isn’t right. He needs someone on his side that’s also an adult. Somebody who’s been an adult for more than a weekend.”
Kit Kat & Katie Did Page 32
