by Patty Blount
“Okay. You win,” I said out loud, waiting for Kenny’s cheers.
There were none.
“Kenny?”
I whipped around. I checked the corner of my mind where he lurked, pushed open the door. His room was empty, but my gaze lingered on the posters of sports stars I no longer admired. “Kenny, come on, where are you? This isn’t funny.”
I was still panting and forced myself to pull in deep breaths, hold them, and slowly exhale. He was…gone. Worry—irrational, I knew—exploded in me. Hadn’t I wished—no, prayed—for this day since Kenny first appeared? Whatever had tethered him to me had cut him loose. I should have been throwing a party. I was no longer insane.
I breathed in deeply, tried cursing him and saying the things that always pissed him off.
Nothing.
“Woo-hoo!” I did an end zone dance in the sand. This was great. This was incredible. Maybe I could cancel next week’s session with Dr. P. I was free! Free to leave Julie alone now.
No.
For a second, I thought Kenny had whispered the word in my mind, but the denial was mine. I shook my head. No.
Being friends with Julie was a mistake. Leave her alone.
No.
Okay, this wasn’t funny anymore. “Kenny! Enough joking around.”
My head was silent except for the flurry of my own scattered thoughts.
Abruptly, I felt lost. Abandoned. Alone. He was always with me. I’d hear his whispers in my head when I was calm and relaxed, his shouts and taunts when I wasn’t. But the first night I was attacked in juvie, he’d left my head and appeared in front of my eyes. When they’d slashed me again and again, I’d seen his face. My face. At the center of the burning and the screaming, I’d heard his voice. My voice.
I’d heard him. Kenny. He’d guided me, told me how to protect myself, how to fight back. How to survive. Even then, even as I lay bleeding on the concrete floor, I knew it was crazy, but I kept the secret. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know if I was protecting Kenny or myself. I only knew that I had to keep the secret.
I was cold. I stood, brushed off the sand, and headed back to my car, the iPod tucked in my pocket. Gulls cried over my head. The wind whipped. The sounds echoed in my hollow head.
I walked without seeing where I was going. I got to my car, climbed in, let my head fall back, and even though eighteen-year-old men didn’t cry, I did. I wasn’t ready. I just wasn’t ready to be alone.
“Okay. Okay. You win. I’ll make friends with her.” I wiped my nose on my sleeve.
A hand patted my arm. I looked over and saw Kenny in the passenger seat.
He was smirking.
Thirty minutes of silence later, my car was in front of her house. She was in the leaf-littered street, walking a shaggy black dog. I cut the engine, got out, and watched. She hadn’t noticed me, a small comfort because I had no idea what to say that could explain my presence.
Kenny’s voice made me jump. There she is.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I rolled my eyes and fell back against the side of my car. What would I say? What the hell was I going to say?
“Hey.”
For the second time in as many minutes, I jumped at the sound of a voice.
“Sorry.” She grinned, pleased with herself, and then angled her head. “What are you doing here?”
“I…I’m not sure. I just—” I shrugged, looked at the ground, hoping to find inspiration in the pavement. No such luck.
You could ask her about the dog, jerk.
Genius. I could have kissed Kenny.
“Who’s your friend?” I crouched to his level, held out a hand, let him sniff it.
“This is Hagrid.”
I caught her gaze and grinned. She was wearing purple eyeglasses today. “Hagrid? Really?” I laughed. “When you said you named your dog after them, I thought you meant Harry. But Hagrid is, um, really cute. He kinda looks like Hagrid.” I couldn’t resist teasing her.
Her eyes narrowed. “Hagrid was an important character in those stories. What’s not to like?”
“Nothing.” I put up my hands, grinning. “It’s just…cute.”
“You said that already.” Her lips curled into that mocking smirk, and it pissed me off. I busied myself scratching the dog’s head. “He likes you.”
“What’s not to like?” I retorted and was rewarded with a little laugh. “So tell me, why Hagrid? I mean, why not go with Harry or Dumbledore or Snape?”
Hagrid tugged on his leash, so Julie began walking. I fell in step beside her. I saw Kenny out of the corner of my eye, walking behind Julie.
“Remember the first book? Harry’s this poor little orphan, abused by the people supposed to raise him. He finds out he’s a wizard, but what does he really know about any of that world? Nothing until Hagrid shows him the way.”
I nudged her with my shoulder. “You telling me you’re an orphan?”
She didn’t laugh. Nor did she look at me. “Not exactly. My parents split up when I was a baby so my dad could marry someone else. My mom remarried like six years ago, made herself a new family. I used to see my dad every other weekend, but ever since…well, something happened when I was thirteen and now he doesn’t visit anymore.”
“You haven’t seen him since you were thirteen?”
She shrugged. “He shows up when Mom needs money.”
Jesus. My mouth hung open, but she wasn’t done yet.
“I had a hard time adjusting. I got into a lot of trouble…intentionally. For attention.”
I was intrigued. “What kind of trouble?”
Another laugh. “I smoked. I drank. A lot. I pierced…things.” She indicated her nose, her eyebrow. “I took pills. I stole. I—” She glanced at me and remembered she didn’t like me. “Forget it. Let’s just say it didn’t take me long to figure out that the only thing getting into trouble got me was the trouble.” She smiled, and I swear it was like the sun came out. “So my mom and Carl adopted this little guy. As soon as I saw the black fur, I thought, Hagrid. But it fits his personality too. He shows me the way.” She laughed again, and the sound tickled me. “He hated my emo phase. The black hair color must have smelled funny. He kept chewing it, so I cut it off, let it grow out.” She raked a hand through it, fluffing it. “He must like it this way because he doesn’t try to chew it anymore.”
I stared at her and shook my head with a laugh. “I can’t picture you doing the all-black emo thing.” And then a disturbing thought flitted across my mind. “Did you cut too?”
Her eyes hardened. “Yeah.” She showed me her hand. I saw a row of silvery scars. “I stopped when my razor blades started looking like the answer to all my problems, you know?”
Yeah. Yeah, I did know and couldn’t stop the shiver when I thought about my own dark days. I wasn’t into the whole emo scene, but I had messed around with blades. Kenny always stopped me. Said I had enough scars.
She stopped while Hagrid did his business, scooped up the mess into a plastic bag, and tied a knot with the ends. She glanced up at me, wrinkled her nose.
“You’re a mess.”
“Yeah, I just went for a run.”
“With your car?”
I nodded. “I like to run on the beach.”
“Right. You said that. So which one did you go to today?”
“I hit Smith Point.”
“Hagrid loves the beach. Mind if we come with you next time?”
Say no, dude. Say you don’t mind one bit.
“Sure, if you want.” I shrugged.
“So, how come you’re here?” she asked again.
There it was. I drew in a deep breath. Honesty would be good now, so I had to give her that much. As much as I could. “I really have no idea. I was on the beach, running, listening to music. An
d couldn’t get you out of my mind. You remind me of the beach.”
She gasped, a tiny sound that said she was pleased. “You hate me.”
“Funny. I thought you hated me.” She didn’t reply, so I continued, “I just couldn’t stand that you wouldn’t help somebody who needed it.”
She nodded with a frown that made the line between her eyes leap. “It’ll always be in our way.”
I frowned. Helping Brandon? I didn’t understand.
But Julie did not elaborate. “So, you’re not pissed off anymore?”
I laughed once. “No, I guess not.”
Julie looked up at me. “What are you saying then? Are we, like, friends?”
“I hope so.” I grinned wide and was rewarded with a bright full-wattage smile.
“Guess I’ll, um, see you in class Monday?”
I nodded. Kenny was grinning ear to ear. My work here was done.
Kickin’ Butts and Takin’ Names
I drew my jacket edges together, shivering in the cold November air, and jogged straight to class, not even bothering to stop at my locker first. I was ridiculously eager to see Julie, and as soon as I let myself think that, I forced myself to slow down. “Friends. That’s all,” I repeated.
I saw Brandon. “Hey, Brandon!” He burrowed into his jacket and kept walking.
What the hell was that about?
Relax, dude.
At least Kenny was speaking to me. I didn’t know why that was comforting.
Told you, bro. I’m a gift.
Yeah. Whatever.
I grabbed my seat, opened a notebook, and reviewed my work. I was the only member of my team in speech class so far. Then the airhead brigade arrived, the scent of mousse, body spray, and flavored lip gloss trailing behind them. They spotted me. I quickly averted my eyes. No eye contact. That was the first rule of staying incognito. I occupied my time jotting down the highlights of an article I’d found in one of Dr. P’s waiting room back issues that supported our law.
The air changed. A subtle shift that made my skin tingle. I lifted my eyes, watched Jeff and Julie walk into the room together. His lips twisted into a smirk, so I watched Julie instead. She settled into her seat. Her eyes met mine, held. Where my skin tingled before, it almost sizzled when she grinned. I hardly heard Paul and Lisa sit down and say good morning.
“Just friends,” I repeated.
“Okay, everyone, let’s get started.” Mr. Williams walked to our team, dropped a pile of handouts on Lisa’s desk. I took one, read the list of topics. School terms should be twelve months instead of ten. Hm. Smoking should be banned in all public places. Okay. Hunting for sport should be banned. Good luck. Mr. Williams was now taping signs to the walls in each corner of the classroom. The first said, “Strongly Agree.” It was joined by “Agree,” “Disagree,” and “Strongly Disagree.” “You have one minute to decide your position on the first topic. I want you each to consider not just how you feel about the topic but why. Then get up and stand in the appropriate corner. Ready?” He pulled a stop watch from his pocket and clicked it. “Decide.”
Over the cacophony of chairs scraping the floor, shoes squeaking, and voices laughing, the entire class met up under the “Strongly Disagree” sign in the front corner by the window.
“Hm. I shouldn’t be surprised.” Mr. Williams smirked. “Guess nobody wants to go to school all year.” He crossed his arms, grinned like the devil. “Now convince me why it’s a bad idea.” His eyes scanned the crowd gathered beneath the sign and settled on me.
Of course.
“Mr. Ellison! Enlighten me.”
My face heated when I felt everyone’s eyes on me while I scrambled for something to say. “Uh, um, summer jobs, summer internships. Both are important for seniors considering college, and a twelve-month school term would eliminate opportunities.”
“Excellent.”
Kiss ass.
I smirked at Kenny and turned to watch one of the airheads blush and stammer her way through a response. “Um, well, like, summer is for the beach and you know—”
“No, Ms. Magee, I don’t know. What about the beach?”
“Um, well, society relies on the money people pay to use the beach, and if teens are still in school throughout the summer, the economy could, like, suffer?”
Williams angled his head. “Better. Next. How about Ms. Murphy?”
“Yeah, okay. How about the increase in taxes in an already-strained economy for the funds needed to pay the staff for two more months of service?”
“Excellent. Mr. Oliva.”
“Yeah, I got nothin’.”
The class erupted in laughter.
“Not good enough, Mr. Oliva. Find a reason.”
“Okay, what about tourism? If summer vacations end, so does the tourism industry.”
“Eh. Weak, but I’ll take it. Mr. Dean, your turn.”
“Yeah. What about electricity and utility bills?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Dean. What about them?” Mr. Williams responded, and the entire class laughed.
“Well, all classrooms would need air-conditioning, and some are pretty old.”
“Good point. Next!” Mr. Williams moved on until each student made an argument.
“Okay, next topic. You have one minute to decide your position. Ready? Decide!”
For the topic on whether smoking be banned in all public places, I hurried over to the “Strongly Agree” corner. This time, the class was more evenly divided among the four choices.
Williams clicked his stopwatch. “Time! Ah, now we’ve got ourselves a debate. Okay, in my two ‘Strongly’ corners—I want to know if I’ve got nonsmokers in the ‘Strongly Disagree’ corner and smokers in the ‘Strongly Agree’ one.” He crossed one hand over the other as he pointed. “This makes for a more compelling argument.”
A quick glance around the company in my corner told me we were all pretty much nonsmokers. Everyone was shaking their heads, pointing at each other. Except for Julie. She looked a bit sheepish. When I cocked an eyebrow at her, she shrugged. “Former, still-recovering smoker.”
“Okay.” Mr. Williams clicked his stopwatch. “Strongly Agree, you’re up.”
We all stared at Julie, waiting for her to step up.
“Um. Yeah. I used to smoke in tenth grade. Until I got caught and was grounded. I was pretty much forced to quit. And I’m glad I did. The problem is that smoking is not just a personal choice. It affects everyone standing close to the smoker. So people who choose to smoke are forcing me to join them because I can’t exactly hold my breath while I’m at the beach or walking into a building. And for those of us who quit, sometimes that’s just way too tempting.”
Mr. Williams applauded. “Well said, Julie! Okay, let’s hear from the ‘Strongly Disagree’ side.”
One of the airheads spoke. “I don’t smoke, but I don’t think it’s fair that people who do are treated like lepers or something, forced to stand behind some wall with others of their kind. It’s a form of discrimination.”
“That’s lame, Ashley,” some guy from the “Agree” corner said. “They’re not segregated because they’re smoking. They’re segregated because the smoke was proven hazardous to those around them.”
“Yeah, so for the few minutes it takes for someone to finish a cigarette, people can move if they don’t want to inhale too,” Jeff added from the “Strongly Disagree” corner.
“How far?” I spoke on a sudden inspiration. “The chemicals in the smoke you guys exhale lingers long after you do. They’re still in the hotel rooms after you check out and in the rental cars after you return them. How far do I have to go to avoid your smoke when it’s so, so permanent?”
I grinned when I felt a hand clap my back.
“So maybe you should just not breathe,”
Jeff said, fist-bumping a guy who found the comment hilarious. “No big loss if you, um, die.”
A morbid thought crossed my mind. If I died today, only two people in the whole world would mourn me. I couldn’t even count my own grandfather. An elbow jerked me out of that misery.
Julie gave me a funny look. “Ignore him. He’s just trying to piss you off.” I managed a tight smile and a nod.
“Okay, okay, let’s keep the personal arguments out of the debate. Mr. Cutler, I believe you had a point to make?”
The kid named Cutler said, “Yeah, I was gonna say that’s why hotels and car renters ask if you want smoking or nonsmoking, so people who are bothered by the odor have a choice. What’s wrong with just, you know, continuing that instead of outlawing smoking altogether?”
The rest of the guy’s argument faded into the background when I sensed Julie’s eyes on me. I turned, caught her gaze. “What?”
She shrugged. “You’re good at this.”
“Arguing?”
“No. Thinking on your feet. I am so nervous.”
“You did great.” I grinned. Her eyes widened, and her mouth went slack for a minute.
Easy, Romeo.
I grinned wider. I’d been told I had a killer smile.
Kenny’s derisive snort echoed in my mind. Yeah, by Mom. Are you really counting that?
I ignored Kenny. I was having fun. Class ended all too soon. I decided to find Brandon, find out if he was mad at me or something.
I headed to his locker but didn’t see him. It was nearly time for homeroom, and those were assigned alphabetically, so I started in that direction when I caught sight of Brandon down at the far end of the corridor.
I walked closer and was about to call out his name when I saw him glance around and shove a folded piece of paper through the slats in one locker.
It wasn’t his locker.
What the hell was he up to?
“Hey, Brandon!” I called, and he leaped about two feet high.
