by Nancy Allan
“You belonged to the Tarantulas long?” I asked, through chattering teeth. I tried to recall when I’d first noticed him.
“Three years.”
“How come you joined? To be a tough guy?”
He smirked. “If that’s what I wanted, I would’ve stayed solo. Regardless of appearances and show, the Tarantulas are anything but tough. Mostly they’re screwed up. Some are just plain psycho, and a few are like me.”
We walked quickly, our breath hanging in air as we hurried through it. “Describe the few who are like you.”
He shrugged. “Loners mostly. A wannabe gang like the Tarantulas can smell us out. They go after loners. We’re their prey, so to prevent that from happening, we have to have something to offer them.”
I stopped and turned to him. “Explain.”
“You need to have a skill they can use.”
He didn’t seem inclined to offer any details. “And you have such a skill?” I looked at him with fresh eyes, trying to determine what that could be. “Drugs?” I proposed.
He shrugged and started walking again. “And other things.”
At the risk of being overly nosy, I asked: “What other things?” But he was quiet.
We passed the school grounds. The buildings were well lit, but the tall cedars cast deep shadows across the expansive grounds. Instantly, I remembered my morning, the taunts and name-calling. How would I get through another day there?
As if he had read my thoughts, he asked, “You ready for tomorrow?”
“I was thinking about calling work to see if they need anyone for the day shift, but they won’t allow me to work during school hours.”
“What do you do?”
“Work at Elenas. It’s a high-end women’s clothing store in the mall. Just got the job, so my being a no-show tonight could lead to problems and possibly unemployment. Too bad. I really needed the work.”
“That is too bad. You need to do something else for a while, besides go to school.”
I looked across at him in surprise. In the yellow light, his skin looked tanned against his dark hair. “Yeah? Why?”
“You know how these things work. Everybody in the whole school has pegged you as open season. You’re the new target. Give this a rest. Let everyone get over it.”
He was right. I had seen that happen to others. Once you were targeted, you were done. There was no way out. Besides, I had no intention of repeating today. As we approached my house, I considered whether to let him see where I lived. He had shown me where he lived, and that had obviously been an issue for him. “We’re almost there,” I told him. "You don’t need to walk me to the door, considering the hour. My parents will probably attack you.” Again, he was silent, keeping pace with me all the way up the front steps to the door. I peeled off the pink jacket and handed it to him. “Thanks, Delta,” I whispered.
He took the jacket, rolled it inside out, presumably so he wouldn’t be seen carrying something pink, and tucked it under his arm. “See ya,” he said and casually descended the steps. I watched him stroll back down the street. He seemed to sense me watching him and glanced back. I gave a small wave. He was a mystery, I thought, as I quietly unlocked the front door and snuck up to my room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Where were you, Ashla?” Mom asked anxiously. She’d heard me come in and followed me up to my room. “Dad and I were crazy with worry. Why didn’t you call?”
“Sorry, Mom.”
She bristled. “So, where were you?”
“At a friend’s. Lost track of time. Fell asleep actually. Too many nights without, I guess.”
“And you didn’t call because?”
“It was pretty late when I woke up. Didn’t want to wake you guys.”
Dad came into my room. He had thrown a robe on his strangely thin frame. Had he lost weight? Was I responsible for this too? His face was hollow and there were shadows under his gentle eyes. “Everything okay, Ashla?”
Was everything okay? Nothing was okay. But of course, I couldn’t say that. “Sure. Everything’s fine.” Just peachy. He nodded and poked Mom with his elbow. “Come on back to bed,” he told her. “She’s home. We can finally get some sleep.” Dad took Mom’s hand and dragged her out of my room.
Oops. They had stayed up. Waited for me. And what had I been doing? More guilt. Pile it on.
The next morning Celeste and I were in her car, heading to school, like any other morning. Only today, I asked her to drop me at the mall. She flipped me a Celeste look. “You’re going to skip out.”
I nodded. “Yesterday was hell. I can’t go through that again.” She turned the wheel, and we headed for the mall, parking in front of the north entrance. “This feels weird, Ashla.”
I got out of the car. “Hopefully, Elenas will give me a day shift, just this once.”
She frowned and stared as I walked away. The mall was open but the clothing store would remain closed for over an hour, so I roamed around until their doors opened and then approached the manager. She was a surly woman in her forties who smelled of tobacco. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, not showing up yesterday, not even calling in, and then popping up here expecting me to give you extra work. I don’t need help like that.”
I walked out, feeling like scum. Sure, I had that coming, but I needed work badly. I walked a few doors down to the internet café and sat down at a computer. Almost two hours later, I had a freshly printed one page resume, made copies, paid twelve dollars for the privilege, and spent most of the day going from store to store looking for work. Responses ranged from negative to, “We’ll call you if something comes up.” Pretty disheartening, but I wasn’t going to give up. Tomorrow I’d try the strip mall down the road.
Around three o’clock, I went home. As I closed the door behind me, Mom appeared in the hall. Her face was flushed, fists clenched. Her green eyes blazed. Oh-oh. I hadn’t seen her this angry in years. “I got the school recording this morning.”
Uh-oh. Forgot all about that. If you’re a no show in the morning without your parents calling the school to explain the absence, a computer program dials your home number relaying a message about your absence from school.
“Ashla?”
I rubbed my eyes. This was getting to be too much.
“Where were you all day?”
“Job hunting.”
She frowned, trying to absorb that. “School comes first. Always.”
I shook my head. I just couldn’t tell her how it was at school. “We need the money with the hospital bills and everything.” And I needed to fill my day somehow.
“Ashla, there’s no way we’d let you take a job during class time, even if you could get one. What are you thinking?”
“How are we going to pay the hospital bills?”
“We’ll pay them somehow. But you’re not missing anymore school. Promise me.”
I nodded miserably and then, just to make things a lot worse, my grandmother appeared behind Mom and barked out her opinion. “She should work, Laine. Pay for her stupidity instead of unloading all those bills on you and Bryan. She needs to grow up and take some responsibility instead of acting like a little Miss Prima Donna.”
Mom ignored her. “Ashla, promise. No more missing school.”
“Alright. Alright,” I said, slipping by Mom and then my grandmother.
“Lazy, good for nothing tramp…” she shot at my back. I bit back a remark and headed upstairs.
The following day Celeste and I walked into the school, hoping no one would notice me. No such luck. We did the death walk down the corridor. Dirty looks followed us. A few kids elbowed us as they passed. A freshman stuck his foot out to trip me, but I hopped over it. I tried not to hear the snide remarks. All I had to do was get through the morning so Mom wouldn’t get a call from the office.
I made my way to the first class and the room went instantly quiet as Rand Riley, huge and intimidating, left his desk and walked menacingly toward me, his colorless eyes boring through me. He
was unanimously considered the meanest, toughest, most deranged guy in the school. Even the Tarantulas avoided him. Worse, it was well known that he was an avid hockey fan. “Hey man, looky here. Just looky here.” His fist shot out and my books and papers went flying. I backed away from him, and turning, I bent down to retrieve everything. His boot struck my butt with so much force I flew forward, my footing gone. I slid across the floor stopping when my shoulder struck a desk leg.
I stayed there a few seconds, but instead of collecting myself, a dam broke. Red hot anger roared through me like a freight train. I pushed off the floor, whirled on him like a feral cat, and whacked him so hard across the face with my text book that his head snapped sideways.
The room went deathly quiet. With painful slowness, Rand turned back to look at me, his hand rubbing the huge red mark above his hairy cheek. His eyes lost focus. His right fist shot out again, this time plowing into my stomach, sending me backward against the wall. I collapsed . . . lungs paralyzed. I couldn’t get air in or out. I couldn’t breathe! Nor could I call out for help. I was terrified.
Mr. Harrison, our math teacher, came into the room. His bearded face swayed in front of me, his lips forming words. Finally, I got a breath of air and struggled upright. Scooping up my books, papers, and backpack, I staggered out of the room, muttering that I was going to the nurse’s station.
Nauseous, I bolted down the hall to the girl’s bathroom, burst through the heavy door and into a stall. Slamming the stall door behind me, I leaned against it, panting, sweaty, and ill. It was a relief to be alone. A minute or so later, I heard the outer door close softly and sensed that someone had entered the washroom. No footsteps. No sound. Was I mistaken? A familiar scent wafted up my sensitive nose, but I couldn’t place it. A movement near the floor caught my eye and I glanced down. The back side of a cell phone! Click, click, click. The camera!
Lightning fast, I grabbed the wrist and pulled it upward against wall. There was a shriek. Furious, I yanked with all my might. The phone hit the floor and her other hand slid out to grab it. I kicked the cell away and let go of her wrist, at the same time rushing out of the stall. She tried to escape. I grabbed her long hair and jerked her backward hard. Her face looked up at me. Stunned, I stared at her. “Lisa,” I whispered. My friend. Or so I had thought. We were both in Harrison’s math class, both on the precision team, and we had known each other for years. A memory flashed through my mind: last year’s Christmas party with our skating team. I had drawn her name for the gift exchange, and knowing her passion for cats, I had given her a dainty silver necklace in the shape of a kitten. Overwhelmed, she’d hugged me. What had changed?
“Let go,” she yelled. “You’re hurting me!”
I released her. “Why?” I asked, my voice hushed.
She pulled away from me, and quick as could be, grabbed her cell off the floor and fled. I cursed myself for not picking it up first. I knew what Lisa was trying to do. There were a few nasty girls in this school who used their cells to snap photos of girls sitting on the toilet. They posted these embarrassing photos on a website they called, Peekaboo. I stood there trying to comprehend why Lisa, once my friend, someone I had known for years, would do a thing like that.
Her desire to hurt me brought deeper pain than what I had just received from Rand. I turned and looked in the mirror. Had I been living in a bubble all this time? Angrily, I splashed cold water on my face, washed my hands, took a deep breath, and walked out. My eyes fixed on the exit sign and I hurried toward it.
I had to get away, but where would I go? Home was out of the question. I had no job. My one remaining friend was in class. The pool was booked during weekdays, and I would stick out in the library. As I crossed the grounds, I looked around for Delta, but there was no sign of him. I walked around the neighborhood aimlessly for what felt like hours. A cold, damp wind was blowing and I was chilled through. In misery, I stopped at the community park. There were no benches, so I went over to a cluster of overgrown shrubs and leaned against an old fir tree. After a while, I slid down the trunk and hit the damp ground, my forehead falling onto my knees. I stuffed my hands between my legs to warm them. Tears seeped into my jeans. My emotions churned—a cauldron of chaos, my thoughts in turmoil.
I was scared. I had no experience at being ‘hated’. Nor did I have any answers or ideas about how to get out of the mess I was in. I was trapped.
Never in my life had I felt so defeated and alone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The cold and the dampness seeped into my bones. My feet and legs were numb. I hurt where I’d been punched and kicked and I hadn’t moved for what felt like hours. It began to rain, declaring a fitting end to the day.
Something brushed my arm. “Come on,” a voice said and I felt two strong hands reach for me. “It’s starting to rain.”
“No.” I twisted away.
He lifted me up, and I found myself looking at Delta. He pulled off his Tarantula jacket, turned it inside out, and put it over my shoulders. Then I felt his arm around me. My legs had lost circulation, so I could barely walk. He half carried me until the circulation returned to my feet. Neither of us spoke and when we arrived at his house, he put his finger to his lips. “Quiet now,” he cautioned me. I followed him upstairs and he motioned to the couch. I collapsed onto it while he disappeared, returning a few minutes later with two cups of hot chocolate and cheese sandwiches. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty.
He stuffed a half sandwich into my hand and put the hot drink on the coffee table.
“Heard what happened,” he said, sliding into the armchair opposite me. Again, I wondered how he had come across me in the park. “Rand is a real piece of work. He’s simple and he’s a horror show. You okay?”
I shook my head.
“Have the hot chocolate. It’ll warm you up.”
I looked down at the cup. “No little pink pills?”
“After, if you promise not to pass out again.”
I picked up the hot mug and let its warmth thaw my icy fingers. It tasted delicious and suddenly, I was hungry and tried the sandwich. Not bad.
“Thought you were going to avoid school for a few days.” His tone was almost reprimanding.
“I should have listened.”
“Let things cool off,” he warned me again.
“Don’t worry, this morning did it for me.” I took another bite of the cheese sandwich.
“You tell your parents what’s been going on?”
“No way.” I took a few sips of hot chocolate. “How do I get out of this mess?”
“Change schools.” He reached into his jeans pocket. There it was, the bag with little pink pills. He shook a couple onto the coffee table and then put the open bag down next to them.
“Your mom home?” I asked, my eyes glued to the pills he called X.
“She’s always home. Remember to be quiet.”
I nodded and reached for one, popping it into my mouth. I wanted to obliterate any memory of this morning. Even to feel nothing at all would be an improvement, so I scooped up a couple more pills and downed them. “Hey, stop!” He grabbed my wrist, but it was too late.
Like last time, I started to feel better . . . good actually. I drifted for a while, savoring my reprieve. The room grew hot and then stifling. Whew. Had to get rid of my clothes. But not in front of… what’s his name…Dave? I weaved my way into the bathroom and threw cold water on my face. Even the water felt hot. Weird. I stuck my head out the door and yelled, “It’s frying in here. Turn off the heat." I staggered down the stairs, seeking the cold outdoors when I realized I was going to barf. It splattered across the clean kitchen floor as I raced for the back door. Bolting through it, I was barely able to catch my breath, my heart racing, my thoughts fixed on reaching the cold air outside. I made it out and then collapsed, my heart galloping like a crazy horse in my chest, my skin on fire, and a single terrifying thought zapping through my brain: God help me!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I awoke
in a private room adjacent to the hospital’s emergency ward. Tubes and wires were everywhere. A nurse was on one side of me and my parents were on the other. Everyone looked grim. Mom had aged. Her youthful face was haggard. Her sunken, red-rimmed eyes met mine.
“Mom?” Who’s squeaky voice was that? Mine?
“Oh, Ashla, what were you thinking? You almost died, do you know that?” she blew her nose and gripped my hand. Her fingers were icicles. “It was touch and go for hours while they pumped you out, put you on a ventilator, gave you injections, and the whole time…” a sob racked her body and Dad put his arm around her, “we waited to hear if you were going to make it,” she wiped tears away, “or not.”
Dad wiped his eyes and reached for my other hand. I could feel the tension in his fingers.
“Sorry.” It came out a whisper.
“Ashla,” he said quietly. “Why?”
Why? Nothing intelligent came to mind, so I remained silent as I searched my malfunctioning brain for a decent excuse. Nothing popped up. How do you tell your parents that you, their pride and joy, the product of their lifetime of labor, had blown it and just couldn’t live with that simple fact? How do you tell them that you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror and see anyone worth looking at? That instead, you saw a stranger who could no longer hold her head up. How do you tell them that you’ve lost your way? That you’re adrift like a ship in a malicious sea—with no one at the helm?
How do you tell them that you don’t know how to go on with your life?
“Ashla, can you hear me?”
I nodded despondently.
Dad wiggled my limp hand in his. “Ashla?”
“Sorry . . . ” I whispered again and closed my eyes. Looking at the love in their faces, and seeing their worry and confusion, made me feel like such an ungrateful, undeserving creature. I had the best parents in the world. Too bad they no longer had a daughter to be proud of. If only I could turn back the clock to the day of the accident. If only I’d turned around that fateful day and gone down the other run with Tara. Or, maybe if I had gone down the West Face slower, I would have arrived at Blind Jump a second or two later and missed hitting Justin.
