The Wrong Side of Kai

by Estelle Maskame

  “I should probably mention that Mr. Boyd also owns a gun,” I say in a last-ditch attempt to persuade Dad to abandon this whole idea of redemption and forgiveness. “And I know because he’s already pointed it at me. It’s totally high risk for me to go inside that house.”

  Dad looks over at me, blinks as though nothing I can say at this point can possibly faze him, and then gets out of the car. I groan and reluctantly step out too, slamming the door behind me. The streets are still covered in snow, but dirty and ruined with tire tracks and footprints now.

  I follow Dad up the walk to the porch. Harrison’s truck is still jacked up at a slight tilt on the driveway, so the tires haven’t been replaced yet. I didn’t realize it would have inconvenienced him this much – I thought he’d have fresh tires fitted the next day.

  “You remember what you need to say?” Dad asks as he lifts his hand to the doorbell. I nod, and he rings the bell.

  My stomach is so tightly knotted as we stand on that porch, waiting and waiting for what feels like forever, that I actually begin to heave. I also realize it’s the first time Dad and I have gone anywhere together in months. It’s just a shame that our first father-daughter outing in forever has to be this. I pace back and forth, hands on my hips, gulping in deep breaths of air.

  Then I hear the click of the front door being unlocked, and I nearly collapse on the porch from nerves.

  Richard Boyd only cracks the door open a few inches and peeks out to see who his Sunday morning guests are. A couple strangers dressed in church attire probably isn’t what he expects to see. He snootily looks us up and down. “Are you doing charity work? Because if so, I’m not interested.”

  “Actually,” Dad says, putting his hand on the door to stop Richard from slamming it in our faces, “my daughter broke into your basement the other night. You may recognize her.”

  This is what gets Richard to open up the door fully. He steps forward, lingering on the threshold, and runs his eyes over me in disdain. I bet I look different now compared to how I did the other night – conservative clothes, no makeup, hair pinned back, expression dripping with guilt.

  “Yes,” Richard says. “I recognize her. Why are you here?”

  “We’d like to talk to you,” Dad says. “And your son.”

  Richard looks reluctant to entertain our requests, but he finally huffs under his breath and motions for us to come inside the lavish house. It’s the first time I’ve been anywhere other than the basement, and I look around in fascination at their exotic and vintage furniture. The Boyds are totally loaded.

  We are led into the living room and told to take a seat. Dad sits down on a plush, crushed velvet armchair, and I sit down on the edge of the matching loveseat. The house is silent – no sound of the TV, no sound of food being made in the kitchen, no voices. It’s like no one is home.

  “Wait here,” Richard warns. He fixes us both with a threatening glare before he disappears across the house, presumably to get Harrison. “And don’t touch anything.”

  Dad and I exchange a look and we both know we’re thinking the exact same thing – what an outrageous snob. We sit in silence, looking around at the luxurious house and inhaling the scent of citrus. It’s an intense wait.

  Finally, Richard returns with a woman by his side and Harrison trailing behind them with his head down. Is that his mother? She’s gorgeous. Long, shiny blond hair that swishes around her shoulders as she walks in a way that reminds me of Madison Romy. She’s wearing a silk robe and her cheeks are pink with blush.

  “What is going on here?” she asks, crossing her willowy arms.

  “Perhaps your son should tell you,” Dad says coolly. He’s playing hard ball, refusing to let the Boyds make a fool out of us, all while I cower over in the corner.

  Mr. and Mrs. Boyd both crane their necks to look at their son, who’s hanging back behind them like a dog with its tail between its legs. There’s a bruise on the edge of his jaw from last night and his parents stare expectantly at him, waiting for him to explain what’s going on.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Harrison lies. He looks on edge too, almost as anxious as I do, and I wonder if he knows that we’re here to set things straight. I have nothing to hide now – my parent knows the full story. It’s Harrison’s parents who are still totally in the dark about everything, and it seems he wants to keep it that way.

  “Are you sure?” Dad presses, his voice firm. Right now, he reminds me of the man that he used to be. Strong and certain, determined and powerful.

  Richard and his wife sit down on the other couch directly opposite me, leaving Harrison standing alone in the center of the room, all the pressure on him as the four of us listen for a confession. Although, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd don’t realize that it is a confession they’re listening for. They’re simply waiting for an explanation.

  But Harrison stays mute.

  “Your son,” Dad says, clearing his throat and turning in the armchair to look over at the Boyds, “was involved with my daughter.”

  “Involved?” Mrs. Boyd repeats, her tone questioning. She gives me a look out of the corner of my eye as though she’s already judging me, like I’m not good enough even when I’m wearing these damn churchy clothes.

  “I believe they had sex together.”

  This is mortifying. Even Harrison’s jaw drops a little, like he can’t believe my dad is seriously discussing this. And with such a straight face too. I know it’s awkward for Dad, but he’s in cop mode, and cops aren’t allowed to be ashamed or embarrassed. They just have to deal with the situation in front of them. Meanwhile, I’m dying for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

  “Okay,” Mr. Boyd says nonchalantly, then rolls his eyes. “Thanks for reminding me to give my son a high-five. Anything else?” His wife tuts and shoots him a look of disapproval.

  “They had sex,” Dad repeats, his resolve unwavering, “and your son filmed my daughter. Not only that, he then shared it all around school.”

  “Harrison!” his mom gasps in genuine horror.

  Richard drops his casual disinterest and presses his lips together. “Did you do that, Harrison?”

  “Only because she screwed me around!” Harrison defends, his voice desperate. He’s not so brave without his buddy Noah around. He looks more like a little kid who knows he’s about to find himself in deep trouble and is prepared to throw a tantrum to get out of it.

  “No,” I say, talking for the first time since I got out of the car. I want to keep my chin held high and my voice strong, but my head is still lowered and my words sound like a garbled jumble as I say, “I had every right to end things between us if I wanted to. You had no right to post that video.”

  “Dad,” Harrison says quickly, eyes flying over to his father, seeking help, “this is the girl who messed up my truck. She’s been screwing with me all week. Why do you think she was in our basement? She was probably trying to burn the house down or something.” Harrison is trying to justify his wrongdoings by highlighting mine, but I don’t think his parents are falling for his distraction techniques.

  “Yeah, and you dragged me into the janitor’s closet and threatened me,” I remind him, my voice growing stronger. Dad throws me a look – I hadn’t mentioned that part – but I ignore him and look Harrison straight in the eye instead. “We can both play this game, Harrison.”

  “Sit down,” Richard orders, and Harrison groans as he slumps down into an armchair. “I can’t believe you would do something so stupid, Harrison. We raised you better than this.”

  “As you can see,” Dad says, cutting in, “the situation has gotten out of hand. The two of them have been fighting all week and I think it’s time that they cut it out and stop hurting one another. And, of course, we’ll pay for the truck’s new tires.” Dad looks at me, disappointment in his eyes, and I glance down at the plush carpet. Now Dad has to fork out a small fortune to pay for my mistakes.

  “I’m sorry for breaking into your basement,”
I apologize to Richard. How did I ever let things get this bad? “And for ruining your dinner at Bob Evans.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m more than furious at this idiot too,” Richard mutters, glaring at his remorseless son. Harrison is staring at the floor now, his hands in his hair, perfectly aware that his parents are going to lay into him the second Dad and I are gone.

  “Can I talk to Harrison?” I ask, and everyone looks at me, surprised. “In private, please?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Mrs. Boyd says, nodding to give me the go-ahead. Her husband looks worried, like he thinks I’m going to tear his son’s throat out.

  I stand up from the couch, my legs wobbly, and walk across the living room. Harrison gets up too and follows me through the house. I have no idea where I’m going, but I walk through the kitchen and into a small study at the back of the house. It’s far enough away from the living room that our parents can’t eavesdrop.

  “You seriously came over here with your dad, Vanessa?” Harrison mumbles, still pulling at the ends of his hair. At least he’s not getting aggressive with me. He just seems abashed now, apprehensive, his face a picture of embarrassment.

  “He didn’t give me a choice,” I say. “He knew everything.”

  He paces the study, unable to keep still. “And so what? You couldn’t manage to ruin my life properly, so now you expect my parents to do it for you? Because they’ll probably ground me – and worse – forever.”

  “No,” I say, then sigh. I’m so tired of this. I step closer toward him. “Harrison, can we end this? I won’t mess with you anymore, and you don’t mess with me. We don’t have to be friends or anything.”

  “And what about that friend of yours? Kai Washington,” he says, and there’s so much hatred in how he spits out Kai’s name. “You expect me just to sit back and do nothing after last night?” He clenches his jaw tight and points at the bruise Kai inflicted with his killer punch at the party, then raises an eyebrow at me as he awaits an answer.

  “Kai is done too,” I tell him. “You did basically steal his girlfriend and try to beat him to a pulp, remember? I think you’re pretty even now.”

  Harrison snorts, shaking his head. He pulls out the desk chair and collapses down into it, staring up at me. “So what? We just ignore each other?”

  “Yep. Easy. And you’re not allowed to have Noah do your dirty work for you.”

  We eyeball one another while Harrison contemplates the deal I’ve offered.

  At the end of the day, all he has against me is that video, which has lost its power because everyone has already seen it – and will soon have moved on. But Kai and me? We have so much more. We have that video of him and his friends smoking pot in the bleachers. We know that he cheated on his SATs. Harrison has the most to lose and he knows it.

  “Okay, Vanessa,” he says at last. “Let’s call it quits.”

  “Shake on it,” I order, and he gets up, gives me his most challenging stare, then slips his hand into mine. We shake on our agreement that this fight is over.

  “Just so you know,” he says, swallowing hard as he tries to look me in the eye, “I really didn’t mean for things to happen the way they did. I never meant for that video to spread as far as it has.”

  “Then why did you send it to everyone in the first place?”

  He glances away. “I didn’t.”

  “What?” I don’t believe what I’m hearing.

  Harrison sighs and scratches at his hairline, looking more awkward than ever, and my heart constricts in my chest. “I only sent it to the guys. And I know that’s still a totally shitty thing for me to do, but I didn’t realize that it would be out of my control after that. I honestly didn’t think.”

  I stare at him, my body rigid. “So, who did send the video to everyone?”

  He looks me in the eye now, imploring but silent.

  “You need to tell me,” I prompt. “I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

  “Noah,” he mumbles at last.

  I don’t say anything. Who else but Noah? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d held a deep-rooted grudge against me ever since I ended our fling. That would explain why he’d do something so drastic to hurt me. Sharing that video must have been all too easy for him; he’d have got off on the power that making me so miserable gave him.

  Harrison is still a jerk for sending the video to his friends, but at least I know now he didn’t choose to share it with the entire school – and the rest of the world. In a way, Noah betrayed us both. He shared that private video of Harrison and me with everyone without either of us consenting to it. He took that video out of our control.

  And I’ve spent the entire week unleashing hell on Harrison, when in fact, Noah Diaz is the enemy. He’s the one I should have targeted.

  But I’ve learned my lesson. Revenge wins you nothing, and it’s often hard to weigh the consequences of your actions until it is too late. I’m not going to take the fight to Noah. This mess is over.

  “I’m really sorry, Vanessa,” Harrison says, and this time he looks me in the eye.

  “So am I,” I tell him. And I mean it.

  Together, we head back to the living room where Dad is warning the Boyds that he’s not afraid to press charges if Harrison doesn’t leave me alone, and the Boyds are telling Dad that they’ll do the same if I keep on committing misdemeanor crimes. I clear my throat to make them aware of our presence.

  “Vanessa,” Dad says, jumping to his feet. There’s a giant question mark written on his face.

  “Harrison and I have resolved our issue,” I state, and Harrison nods in agreement to back me up.

  “Great! Now he can go to his room and unplug his Xbox,” Mr. Boyd deadpans, and he gives Harrison a stern look that I can’t quite read. Harrison must know that look though, because he mutters something under his breath before stalking his way upstairs.

  “We’ll get going,” Dad says, joining me by my side. “I’m glad this mess is sorted.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Boyd apologize for their son’s actions, wish us a pleasant Sunday, and then walk us to the front door before slamming it behind us. Dad and I climb back into the Green McRusty and as he starts up the engine, he looks at me funny.

  “Now see?” he says, with more than a hint of smugness. “When you behave like adults, problems get resolved much quicker.”

  I roll my eyes and prop my elbow up on the window, weaving my fingers into my hair and massaging my scalp. The weight of the burden that I’ve been carrying around has lifted and I feel so much lighter, like there’s a new spring in my step and even the colors outside look brighter.

  “Can I see Kai tonight?” I blurt. “You might have realized we’re not really just partners on a school assignment.”

  Dad turns to face me. “Absolutely not,” he says, indignant. As he starts to drive, he tells me, “You’re so grounded.”

  And it’s like fireworks explode in my chest, because I have never, ever been grounded before. Dad has never cared enough to punish me, but I have waited for this moment so long. I’ve waited for Dad to save me from the holes I’ve dug myself into, and I’ve waited for Dad to feel let down and disappointed by my actions, and I’ve waited – oh, how I’ve waited – for him to ground me like any other normal parent would.

  My expression lights up with relief as my mouth transforms into a huge grin. I lean over and wrap my arms around Dad, burying my face into his thick coat and hugging him so tightly that he almost crashes the Green McRusty once and for all.

  25

  Being grounded was almost fun at first.

  I took a long bath, complete with a rainbow bath bomb and raspberry-scented bubbles, and I padded around in my fluffy bathrobe and slippers. I styled my hair, taking the time to practice a new curling technique, and I even painted my nails a deep red for the approaching festive season. I watched A Cinderella Story twice, once with Kennedy and once on my own. I even tidied up my room, packing away clothes and decluttering all the trash I’ve l
et accumulate. It’s all so therapeutic, the perfect chilled-out Sunday, but when it grows late, the boredom sets in.

  I’m grounded for a month. A month.

  I don’t know if I can do this every day up until Christmas.

  My phone buzzes and I roll over on my bed to grab it from my bedside table. There’re only two people I’m currently messaging back and forth with, and that’s Chyna Tate and Kai Washington. The only two people I need in my life right now.

  The text is from Kai. He asks:

  Do you think your dad will ever let us hang out while you’re grounded, or do we have to wait until next year to get some alone time?

  I fluff up my pillows and get comfortable. It’s just after nine and I’m already in my pajamas, not quite paying attention to my TV anymore. Dad has taken Kennedy out for a late dinner and I’m not even mad that they’ve left me behind, because I do so deserve this punishment. I’ve been scrolling through social media for the past hour, filtering through everyone’s posts to see what people are talking about. A couple people have called Noah a total jerk, and a few others are talking about the fact that Harrison was floored with one hit. There is absolutely nothing about me, and nothing that could possibly even be about me. The gossip on everyone’s minds has already shifted forward to something new, like that video never even happened. I know now just how toxic it is being on the receiving end. I’m so over high school drama.

  There’s a smile toying at my mouth as I type back a reply to Kai:

  ME: We can still hang out at school. That’s if you’ll finally talk to me in public ;)