Finding Hope

by Colleen Nelson

  “It’s sad, though, about Lizzie’s mom. Did you know she died?”

  Cassie raised her head. “She’s not dead. She moved to New York for work.”

  It was my turn to give Cassie a confused look. “She said her mom committed suicide, that her biggest fear was turning out like her.”

  With a snort of disbelief, Cassie’s eyes widened and she sat up. “When did she tell you that?”

  I felt a thump in my head. Like a weight crashing down. “She also told me you’d spread lies about her having sex with your brother’s friends,” I said.

  “She told you what?”

  “She said that your brother wanted to date her until you poisoned him against her.”

  Cassie’s mouth hung open in shock. “Parker didn’t want to date her because she’s sloppy seconds. His friend Alex hooked up with her last Christmas. I didn’t have to say anything. He’d never go for a girl like her.”

  My face flushed red. I winced at my own gullibility.

  “She just told you those things to make you feel bad for her.”

  “But Emily and Vivian—”

  Cassie snorted. “They go along with whatever Lizzie says.”

  Just like Eric, the Ravens had played me. With a shudder, I remembered how close I’d come to cutting Cassie’s hair.

  I’d told the Ravens the truth about my brother. What if they figured out a way to use it against me? A knot of worry tightened in my stomach. What would Ms. Harrison do if she found out a meth addict was hanging around the gates?

  Kick me out? Call Mom?

  He was going to ruin things for me, and for himself, if he kept coming around. Had he thought I’d be able to protect him in the city? Hide food, clothes, and money for him in a stump? Rescue him from himself?

  I was trying to save a drowning person. Eric, flailing and kicking, would pull me under too. I had to let go or neither of us would survive.

  Tuesday, October 7, 9:50 p.m.

  From: Devon

  Who’s the guy you’ve been seeing behind my back? Don’t lie. Word travels fast between RH and Melton.

  Just tell me the truth.

  Wednesday, October 8, 3:58 p.m.

  From: Hope

  There is no guy, I swear. It was my brother. He surprised me and showed up at the gates of the school. I didn’t tell the girls he was my brother. It’s just really confusing to explain. I promise, you are the ONLY guy in my life.

  Wednesday, October 8, 6:35 p.m.

  From: Devon

  Your brother? I’m not an idiot. I thought we had something special. You’re just like the other RH girls.

  Wednesday, October 8, 6:38 p.m.

  From: Hope

  He’s in trouble.

  I only told people he was my BF so they’d stop asking questions. What can I do to make you believe me?

  Wednesday, October 8, 6:40 p.m.

  From: Devon

  You need to do something to prove we are real. That you love me. Will you do it? No matter what it is?

  Wednesday, October 8, 6:49 p.m.

  From: Hope

  You know I’d do anything for you.

  Wednesday, October 8, 9:08 p.m.

  From: Devon

  Send me a sexy pic.

  Wednesday, October 8. 10:02 p.m.

  From: Hope

  Sexy?

  Wednesday, October 8, 10:11 p.m.

  From: Devon

  It’s not a big deal. We love each other, right? It’ll be our secret.

  Eric

  Hope stood on the other side of the gates. The bars cast a shadow across her face. One eye peeked out, the other stayed hidden. My notebook was rolled up in her hands. I took it from her as she passed it to me, careful that our fingers didn’t touch. I didn’t want to contaminate her with all the poison inside me.

  “I don’t know why I gave you that stupid thing,” I said, embarrassed.

  She shrugged. “It didn’t make much sense to me anyway.” Our conversation was stilted. We stood on either side of the fence, staring at each other.

  It made me sad seeing her like this, trapped behind the fence. I wondered why I’d come. And then the surge of want hit me. Without her, there’d be no high tonight.

  “You look good,” she said. “Well, better.”

  I sniffed. I’d only had two minutes to wash away weeks of filth, but I’d left the shelter feeling like a new person. They’d given me new socks and underwear too. I’d locked up my jacket while I’d showered, to make sure no one stole it.

  She gave a wan smile. “Where are you staying?”

  Like it was a hotel. “With some friends. Pretty close to here, actually.”

  Her face softened, the guarded blankness in her eyes lifted. “Can I see it?”

  I snorted a laugh of surprise. “I don’t think you’d like it.”

  “You can’t keep coming around. I’m going to get in trouble.” She steeled herself, balling her little hands into fists, determined.

  I waited for her to take it back, apologize. I was her brother, for Christ’s sake.

  “I’m not giving you money, Eric. I’m buying you food, and I want to see where you live.” Her words came out in a rush, like they had been rehearsed.

  “You sound like Mom,” I told her, not trying to disguise the bitter edge in my voice. She was safe behind the bars, out of arm’s reach. Would she have been so brave standing in front of me?

  She set her mouth, determined.

  “You’re a bitch, you know that,” I spat at her. She’d dangled money in front of me, tantalizing me with it. Only to snatch it away. I wanted to reach through the bars and grab her neck to shake it out of her.

  She was crying now, wiping away tears. “I don’t care what you think. I know what will happen if I give it to you. I know what you’ll do with it.”

  I grabbed the bars and shook them. “Fuck you!” I yelled. “I don’t want your fucking money!”

  She didn’t move. She was going to let me walk away, penniless.

  Thrusting a hand through, I reached for her, beseeching. “Please, Hope! Just ten bucks. I swear, that’s it, and then tomorrow, I’ll come back, we can hang out. Do whatever you want. Please?”

  She shook her head, feet rooted to the spot. “No. Come back on Saturday.”

  I let my hand drop and slid to the ground, staring at her, pressing my forehead against the cool metal. “I’ll be dead by then. You’ll have killed me, you know that, right? It’s only ten fucking dollars. You don’t even need it. You’re just a selfish bitch.” The words came out keening, like a dying animal.

  She was immovable. I saw her tremble, like a volcano before it erupts. “Saturday,” she said, her voice cracking. “Or no money.”

  I glared at her from the ground and then horked a wad of spit at her feet. I didn’t need this shit. Little bitch of a sister trying to tell me what to do. Fuck that. “And fuck your fucking school, too!” I shouted. I wanted to throw something, but all I had was the notebook in my hands. I ripped off the cover and yanked pages from the staples, spewing them onto the sidewalk and through the gates.

  They shone white in the darkness.

  And I left.

  Hope

  As he walked away, I tried to hold myself steady.

  He had never wanted to see me. He had just wanted my money. The chance to get high. Nothing mattered but getting meth.

  I felt like Mom, taking his abuse, letting it rain down on me and doing nothing. Suppressing a reaction, refusing to let him goad me into saying something I’d regret. But it had taken all of my energy. I should call Mom. I knew I should. She deserved to know Eric was still alive.

  But she’d want to come to the city. She’d find him and tell the cops. Or worse, scare him off. Or be mad at me for not having called her sooner.

  With th
e promise of my cash, he’d come back. He’d cool off and come back Saturday, apologetic, and try to woo it away from me. I didn’t know if I’d be strong enough to say no the next time.

  Some of his papers had blown under the gates and lay at my feet. I picked them up, eager to remove evidence of his visit.

  I turned to go back inside the school. Lit from within, it looked homey in a weird way. The windows glowed against the brick exterior. Skeletal trees reached up to the sky like gnarled hands growing out of the earth. Movement in one of the windows made me stop. A group of girls was watching me from the third floor. The common room window.

  Without any leaves on the trees, their line of sight was clear. They could have seen the whole thing. Eric railing against me, ripping up his book, and storming off.

  To them, what had it looked like? A visit with my meth-head brother or a heated argument with my supposed boyfriend?

  Naked

  Flesh bared,

  Secrets of my soul

  Exposed.

  Cannibalize me.

  The rush of words filled my head. Each footstep marked a syllable as I drew closer to the doors.

  My stomach clenched because I knew Devon would find out. Gossip and rumours spread between our schools like social wildfire. It was only a matter of time before I got an accusatory text from him.

  Devon, my heart cried. You don’t understand. Let me explain. But already, I knew the thin reed of excuses I’d string together would bend and break under pressure. I’d have to tell him the truth.

  A meth-head brother. Trailer trash family. A mom who thinks her daughter deserves better than she does. Hope: a liar, a cheat, pretending to be someone she’s not. How would I answer these accusations, when they were all true?

  Eric

  Coach Williams. His name beat a rhythm in my head. Each step, a beat to his name. I’d tried to snort it away, block it, run from it, but nothing was working. As soon as the high wore off, my next thought was about getting more speed to erase what he’d done, what I’d done, from my memory.

  I fantasized about seeing him again, in my highest moments. When I felt invincible. Tough. Sexy. Cool. I’d find him, proclaim him for what he was to the shock and horror of everyone watching. Vindication! I’d be whole again, able to function.

  But that day was never going to come. Right now, I needed a hit. I’d beg Leo. Promise to give him some cash, whatever I got from Hope. I’d go back, meet her, let her buy me some food, and then sell it on the corner as soon as she left.

  I was finding my way in the city. Learning how it worked. Go to the food bank, stand in line, pack a bag, say thank you, all meek and pathetic, and then scam five dollars for it on the corner. This was the way the real world worked.

  Coach Duke Williams. I could find him. I could find out where he lived and pay him a visit for real. Show him what I’d become thanks to him. Everything was because of him.

  Fuck. The word rolled through my brain in a long, slow syllable. All of this was because of him and he didn’t even know it.

  Hope

  I unbuttoned my blouse. The flesh on my chest was pale. Devon’s necklace glinted against my skin. A tendril of hair fell over my shoulder and I peered into the camera. My heart was beating quickly. I’d locked the door after Cassie left for a tutoring appointment. But every time footsteps went past the door, I froze, terrified of getting caught. I knew what I was doing was wrong.

  Pushing the thought out of my head, I took a deep breath and bit my bottom lip suggestively, staring into the camera. I tilted my head and unbuttoned my blouse so my bra was fully exposed. Letting the sleeves of my blouse slide down my arms, I slipped one bra strap off my shoulder and then the other, clutching the bra to my chest. My breasts heaved, their soft mounds of flesh pressing against my arm.

  Devon had never asked anything of me before. He wanted this. I could give it to him. It would keep him with me, no matter what he found out about Eric. It would bring us closer. And that was what I wanted—to keep him close to me.

  This wasn’t so much, a few shots of me naked, my gift to him.

  Pulling my arm away, I unhooked my bra and let it fall to my lap. I sat, exposed, a pouty look on my face, and felt the camera’s eye capture my image, holding it. I took a couple more, letting my hair cover part of my face, half turning away from the camera, angling my head down, shyly, kissing the pendant he’d sent me, and biting it with a knowing smile.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I perused the photos. It was weird, to look at myself like that. To know that with the click of a button, I’d be able to send them to someone else, secrets delivered, soul bared.

  I saved the best ones in a file and deleted the rest. It was done now. I’d send them to Devon. He deserved them.

  Saturday, October 11, 11:22 a.m.

  From: Hope

  Do you like them? It felt so weird at first, but then I started thinking about everything you’ve done for me, getting me through the hard times at school, making me feel like someone cared when I felt alone. They’re my thank-you gift to you.

  Saturday, October 11, 3:45 p.m.

  From: Devon

  You slut.

  I reread the text.

  Slut? Was he joking? My chest tightened. What had I done?

  I dropped my head into my hands. I’d made a fool of myself. He’d never meant for me to send photos like that. My face burned scarlet. I was an idiot. He’d never speak to me again.

  Oh my God, I’d ruined everything. Barely pausing to think, I ran to my computer and typed an email to salvage the only thing that mattered to me: my relationship with Devon.

  Saturday, October 11, 3:55 p.m.

  To: Devon

  From: Hope

  Subject: I’m an idiot

  Devon, please forgive me! I thought the photos were what you wanted, but I see now that I was wrong. Totally, totally wrong. I can’t believe I sent them. I’m mortified. Please forgive me. Delete them and pretend they never existed.

  H.

  I sat by my computer, phone in hand, for the rest of the night, waiting for the cheerful ping to announce I had a message. It never came.

  Eric

  Hope had been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy. She walked out of the school with her hands stuffed into her pockets, hunched over, like she wanted to curl up into herself and disappear.

  She didn’t say anything to me, but the gates slid open and we were together again. No barrier between us.

  I gave an awkward laugh. “They let you out.”

  “Only for an hour,” she said, her voice quiet and small. “There’s a grocery store a couple of blocks away.”

  I knew the place. A mom-and-pop joint with tiny shopping carts whose wheels twisted spastically. Bars on the windows and a sign that said NO PUBLIC TOILETS. I’d lifted a tin of tuna from there for me and Storm to share.

  “The place you’re staying, is it close?” she asked. A breeze rustled through her hair, swirling her ponytail behind her.

  I cracked my knuckles, shaking my head. “I don’t think you want to see it.”

  “That’s the deal. The money is for food and I see where you live.” Her face was serious, stern.

  A silent, body-shaking groan rolled through me. “Why are you being such a bitch about this?”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and her face flushed. Had she been crying because of me? Fuck. I didn’t want this. Her pity or blame, or whatever emotions were going to roll through me when I looked at her.

  I just wanted some cash. And, actually, some food wouldn’t be so bad either. Once I was sober, the constant, gnawing hunger was exhausting. “Okay, okay, you can see the place. But I swear, Hope, if I find out you told Mom, or if you come back, I’ll fucking leave. You will never see me again.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. Why did she want to see where I crashed? For
proof of how far I’d fallen? Anger swelled in me. She was stabbing needles into my eyeballs, forcing me to show her the flophouse. And I was willing to do it for twenty bucks.

  “When did you get here, anyway?” she asked.

  I snorted. “Don’t know. Few weeks ago, I guess. Maybe less.”

  “Why’d you come to the city?”

  Her questions set my teeth on edge. I didn’t owe her an explanation. “Just needed a change,” I said quietly, my voice tight with the memory of the pharmacy, the shrill blare of the alarm.

  I thought seeing Hope this afternoon would be like old times, me and her. But she was ruining it with her interrogation. She’d left the bars of the school behind, but there was still a wall between us. She was guarded and didn’t look at me, kept her head down, staring at the sidewalk.

  “How’s that school? You like it?”

  Her chin quivered.

  I frowned. An old protectiveness rose in me. “What happened?”

  She shook her head, refusing to talk.

  Two could play this game. “I’m not taking you to my place unless you come clean with me. Is it the other kids? Do you miss home? What?” It was a relief to turn the focus away from me, the fuck-up brother.

  A few tears leaked down her cheeks, but she wiped them away. She had on black mini-mitts, the stretchy kind that made her hands look like small and rounded, like a kid had drawn them on. “I did something really stupid.” Her voice broke. “I screwed everything up.”

  Without thinking, I put an arm around her shoulders, but she stiffened, so I dropped it. “What’d you do?” I asked. “Come on, you can tell me. It can’t be as stupid as stuff I’ve done.” Trying to make her laugh. It worked. A wry laugh interrupted her sobs.

  She considered telling, I could tell, but then shook her head. “It’s too humiliating,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you.” She pulled away from me.