Controlled

by Patrick Jones

  “I wish I could have lived with them instead of with you. You hate me!”

  “Misty, we don’t—” That’s as far as Dad gets before I hear something—a chair?—crash onto the floor.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Dad says. “Misty, please go to your room.”

  Misty slams against the walls and then pauses outside my door. “Enjoy the show, Rach?”

  6

  “Rachel, is that your cousin talking to Colt and Shawna and Daniel and Alix?” Dana asks, peering across the cafeteria.

  I shrug and take a bite of salad. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

  “That’s pretty harsh,” Sarah says as she rearranges the carrot sticks in front of her by size.

  “Misty’s life is her business. I’ve got enough to think about without taking responsibility for her.” It’s the first day of school and I already feel behind. Orchestra practice in the mornings half the week and in the afternoons the other half, mountains of homework, ACTs coming up …

  I start to ask Sarah about college visits, but Dana cuts me off. “Misty’s coming this way.”

  Sarah and Dana quickly pull out their phones so they can avoid her. I’m not quick enough.

  “Crowded in here, isn’t it, Dana?” Misty sits down with her over-full tray.

  “First lunch is the worst,” Dana says without looking up from her phone.

  “This pizza is the worst,” Misty dips the sausage pizza in a bowl of ranch before taking a bite.

  “We wouldn’t know.” I love the word we, meaning Sarah, Dana, and me.

  “You don’t eat pizza?” Misty chews too loud. “Any of you?”

  Sarah points to her salad. “I’m a vegan. I don’t eat any animal products.”

  “And I’m a vegetarian, like Rachel,” Dana adds. “We’d be vegan if not for vegan cheese.” Dana and I both pretend to put our fingers down our throat. Sarah rolls her eyes.

  “But didn’t I see you eat chicken this weekend?” Misty asks. I want to kick her under the table.

  “Okay, I’m a vege-hypocrite. I blame my mom. She’s the contradiction queen.”

  “Like how?”

  “Like she has a pro-environment license plate but drives that giant SUV.”

  “Do you think she’ll let me drive it?” Misty asks. “I signed up for driver’s ed through the school.”

  “You could ask her,” I say. I want to add “And I know you will,” but I do do do want to be nice.

  “Hey, Dana, we match!” Misty says. She holds her wrist next to Dana’s. Pink bracelets.

  “Where’d you get that?” I ask. I make a mental note to check my dresser when I get home.

  “Pink power!” is all she says. She keeps talking to Dana. “Are you doing the three-day?”

  Okay, that’s too much. How does she know that we walk the Komen breast cancer fund-raiser?

  “Of course—do you want to join us?” Dana asks out of nowhere. “It’s next weekend.”

  “Well, if I’m ungrounded by then.” Misty glares at me like her grounding is my fault. “Hey, Sarah, can I see your phone?” She reaches across the table.

  “I guess.” Sarah looks worried and amused at the same time.

  Misty holds the phone in her palm like a pearl. “I gotta get one of these. My phone has like zero memory.”

  While she stares at Sarah’s phone, we stare at the ink covering the back of her hand. “Whose phone numbers are those?” asks Dana.

  “Colt Martin’s and Alix Hawkins’s.”

  “You’re kidding,” gasps Sarah. “Those two want to hang out with you?” She and Dana start grilling Misty about how she managed it. Dana actually grabs Misty’s hand to get a better look at the numbers.

  But I’m not looking at the scribbled digits anymore. I’m looking at Misty’s right arm where her sleeve has slipped. There’s a spot just an inch above the wrist where Misty’s skin is laced with lines of red scars.

  7

  I knock on the open door of Denise’s room. Misty’s room.

  “What?” Attitude fills the word. Her back is still to me. Eyes on her phone.

  “Um, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Every time I shut my eyes I see those scars on her arms. Yet she says she’s fine.

  “Okay. But if you want to talk about anything—if there’s anything we can do to help—”

  “I don’t need anybody’s help.” I recognize the hardness in her voice. It’s just like Dad’s.

  “Misty, I saw the scars on your arm.”

  She pivots. There’s panic in her eyes. “I did that a long time ago, okay? Not anymore. Don’t tell anyone. Especially your parents. They’ll just freak out and send me to a shrink. Or worse.”

  “Misty—” I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. This is a mess. Misty is a mess.

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone, Rach. I swear, that’s part of my old life.”

  I bite my lip. “Your life before must have been pretty bad.”

  The fear’s gone from her face now. There’s only anger left. “If you feel sorry for me, don’t.”

  “But you had so much to deal with at once. Losing your mom, your friends, and starting in a new school …”

  “I’m used to it. One year I went to five elementary schools. And my mom.” She pauses. This is maybe only the second or third time, I think, she’s mentioned her mom. “I lost her a long time before she died. It’s all my friends I miss.”

  “You seem to be doing a good job making new friends,” I say. Envy, anger, and awe are peeking out from behind that sentence.

  “I had so many friends up in Hibbing. You’ve got to get us there so you can meet all of them.”

  “Maybe Sarah can drive us sometime.” Sarah’s allowed to borrow her mom’s car fairly often.

  “Or I’ll just ask Colt.” She’s so bold. She just met him!

  “So … you and Colt?”

  She laughs. “Not yet, not yet.” She looks at me mischievously. “What about you, Rach? Do you have a Colt?”

  I shrug.

  “Dana and Sarah say you’re into Kevin Liu.”

  I may need to have a talk with Dana and Sarah about sharing our secrets with Misty. “Yeah, well, I don’t really have much time for dating …” I mutter.

  “You study and stress too much. You need to have more fun. Your folks got any vodka?”

  I ignore that. Mom’s not drinking in front of Misty. “We’d better start studying now.”

  “I’m doing a’right.” I’ve noticed that Misty, like Colt, tries to sound like she’s ghetto.

  I raise my eyebrows. “I heard your fight last night with my mom. She’s right. You can get better than D’s.”

  “Why bother? I’d rather have fun with my friends than study.”

  “You can do both, if you let me help you.” I actually like the sound of that. I can help her. I can fix this. I can make things normal again.

  “I just don’t care about school like you and the rest of our friends.” Our friends?

  “But my parents do. Didn’t Dad say he’d take the computer privileges away if your grades don’t improve?”

  “Maybe.” Why is she fighting me on this? Can’t she understand my parents are serious?

  “I know you don’t want to lose the computer or your phone. Right? So let me help.”

  She stares at me like a TV cop stares at a criminal. I break the stare by looking at her arms, but the long sleeves are pulled tight around the wrists. “Please, Misty.”

  “Okay.” She bends to pick up her backpack. When she does, her T-shirt pulls up in the back.

  And I steal a glimpse of red thong underwear.

  8

  “Misty, are you okay?” I’m just back from hanging out at Dana’s house. Misty is facedown in the middle of the living room.

  She lifts her head, but it drops, like her skull is too heavy. “I’m fine.”

  I drop my backpack and lean over her. A smell attacks my
nose. Smoke and alcohol. “Misty, are you drunk?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What can I do?”

  She pulls herself up to her knees. “Can you help me to my room?”

  As I pull her up, I also pull up the sleeve on her right arm. It’s a road map of fresh cuts. I pull, she follows, and she’s upright. But it is only a second before she crashes again.

  “Do you want coffee?” I’ve seen that on TV. I’ve never seen a drunk person in real life. She gets back to her knees and starts crawling like a helpless baby trying to reach its mother. Outside I hear a car—Dad’s Lexus—pull into the driveway. The garage door opens. Crap. Dad cannot see this. “Hurry!”

  I run ahead and open the door to her room. It’ll take her forever to get there. I need to buy her some time. I pull out my phone and call Dad. He answers.

  “Hey, Dad, I was just wondering, should we get takeout for dinner tonight? I thought we had more pasta in the pantry but we’re actually out…”

  “Rachel, I don’t have time for this right now.” He’s short with me. Angry.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him as I watch Misty’s slow crawl continue.

  “Misty punched a girl at school. We’re moving her to Rondo Alternative.”

  I do what I’ve never done before. I lie to Dad.

  “That wasn’t Misty’s fault. I was there, I saw the whole thing. Shawna jumped her and—”

  He grunts now and then as I spin the tale. Misty crawls a few more feet, stops, starts, stops.

  “She’s in her room now. She’s upset. Let me talk with her before you tell her about Rondo.” We make it to her room, but it’s a struggle all the way. She dives inside and I shut the door. Seconds later, the front door opens, but Dad doesn’t come toward us. We’re safe, for now.

  Misty’s face down next to the bed. Denise’s bed. Her bed. “Misty, what’s going on?”

  “I knew I was in trouble for punching that skank, so why not get messed up? Two for one.” She laughs, coughs, laughs, groans. I hope she doesn’t throw up.

  “You know the first time I got drunk?” I think she asks. Her words are as blurry as her eyes.

  “I was six. Mom was high, again. I was crying. She gave me vodka to shut me up.”

  I say nothing. I don’t know this person and her messed-up world and I don’t want this in my life.

  “First time I got high was at ten. Mom wanted to get high, but her regular dealer was locked up. So this other guy came over. I’d seen him before. He made her beg. He made me watch. Then he looked at me. Asked my age, but not my name. Then he said, ‘Okay, let’s party.’”

  I think of parties at age ten. Cake. Candles. Balloons. Presents. Silly hats. Stupid games.

  “So he gets my mom high, and me. You know, two for one.” I can no longer breathe. “Then he says, ‘Time to pay.’ Mom sends me into another room so I don’t have to see.”

  A minute ago I was worried Misty would throw up. Now I’m the one with a heaving stomach.

  “I know how this goes down. I cover my ears, but I still hear it. Then my mom’s shouting ‘No, not her, not her.’ Then crying.”

  “Misty, I’m so sorry,” I choke out.

  “The door opens and there’s the guy. My mom’s behind him, pulling on his arm so he won’t come into the room. Her face is bloody, busted open.”

  I shout in my head but can’t speak: Don’t say another word, please, Misty. Please.

  “He slams the door on her. Locks it.” She says each word without emotion. “He says, ‘Time to pay.’”

  9

  “So how do you think this happened?” I ask over lunch. We’re all too wound up to eat. Kevin asked me to homecoming this morning. And Dana and Sarah just got asked by their crushes, Ed and Todd. “I mean I didn’t think we’d be going, and then all of sudden … Wow.”

  Before the others can respond, my phone buzzes. Another text from Misty. Probably something about one of her new Rondo friends. She’s always talking about Rondo people now, just like she used to talk about her friends in Hibbing. And she’s always texting me during school, saying how much more fun she’s having there than she ever did at Woodbury. I ignore the text and pick up where I left off with Sarah and Dana.

  “What changed?” I ask. “Why do you think they finally asked us out?”

  “Safety in numbers maybe?” answers Dana.

  “No, I know Todd just couldn’t resist my grace and beauty,” says Sarah.

  “Why does it matter?” Dana asks me.

  “I just like to know things,” I snap.

  “Did Misty answer Nathan?” Sarah asks. Nathan was the odd man without a date in Kevin’s group of friends, but like the rest of my circle, Misty’s made friends with him online. She’d hinted maybe more.

  “Yeah, she said yes.” So even though she’s kicked out of Woodbury High, Misty will be at our homecoming.

  “Do you think your mom will even let Misty go?” Sarah asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Rachel, you don’t seem to have much information,” Dana says.

  “Look, I’m not Misty’s secretary. Why don’t you ask her yourself since you’re best pals?”

  “Relax, Rachel,” says Sarah.

  “The point is we’re going to homecoming and it’s going to be great,” Sarah says.

  “So, we’re still going dress shopping tomorrow, right?” asks Dana. “Should we invite Misty?”

  “Are you serious?” I burst out.

  “Rachel, you shouldn’t be so hard on her,” says Sarah. “She just wants us all to be friends. I think we should give her a chance.”

  No, we are three, not four. “I’m not being hard on her. I just get frustrated with her.”

  “She thinks that you hate her,” Sarah mumbles.

  “How do you know that?”

  “She told me.”

  “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close, Sarah. Maybe she can come live with you?”

  “Rachel, will you just relax?” says Dana. “What is your problem?”

  “My problem is that Misty seems to be taking control of my life! A month ago I had everything planned out, I knew exactly what to expect. Then Misty shows up, and suddenly there’s all this drama at home, and now she’s going to our homecoming, and we’re going to homecoming …”

  “Rachel, I don’t know Misty that well, but she seems all right,” says Dana. “And what does she have to do with the guys asking us to homecoming?”

  “She knows I like Kevin,” I say. “I’m afraid she told him he should ask me.”

  “So? You do like him. You should be excited,” Dana says.

  “What if I’m just his charity case? What if he just asked me because of Misty?”

  “Rachel, relax,” I’m told a third time. It’s not a charm.

  10

  “You all look wonderful!” Mom snaps another photo of the four of us. Dad’s all smiles. Mom too, for once. The boys are waiting, looking bored. The limo that Nathan’s dad paid for has been parked outside for almost half an hour.

  “Okay, boys, you get in the photo now,” Mom says. She’s having way more fun than I am tonight. Mostly I’m focused on resisting the urge to bite my nails.

  The guys come toward us. Nathan stands on the outside of the group, waiting for Misty to join us. Mom relented and agreed to let her go. Even bought her a nice dress, though Misty hates it.

  Now, Misty’s door opens and she sweeps into the living room. Mom’s eyes bulge. Though I don’t look at the boys, I’m sure there are other bulges happening in the room. Misty’s not wearing the dress Mom bought for her. This is from the Kardashian cleavage collection. At least her arms are hidden by black lacy sleeves. That’s about the only thing that’s hidden. And like her jewelry and makeup, this dress might as well have a neon price tag saying shoplifted.

  “Oh my God, Misty,” Sarah says, then giggles. Dana’s not laughing. She looks nervous.

  Mom’s mouth stays open, but she can’t seem to get
any words out. I glance at Nathan. I’m surprised he’s not drooling.

  “Misty, go change,” Dad whispers, though we all can hear. Like everything he and Mom say, it’s code. Code for We know you stole that. It’s unacceptable. But we can’t say so in front of our guests. So instead, you get this.

  “No,” says Misty.

  “If you want to go, you need to wear something different.” Dad’s tone turns a little tougher. “What’s wrong with the dress your aunt Karen got you?”

  “It’s ugly!” Misty flings the word at everyone in the room. I suspect the real answer is, It’s sleeveless. “But then you think I’m ugly, so that fits!”

  “Misty, go to your room,” says Mom. I know she wants to say Leave this house but can’t. “You can wear the dress we bought you or you can stay home.”

  Misty pivots and seconds later a door slams hard.

  “Okay, let’s just finish the pictures.” Mom keeps clicking away. Minutes pass. More photos, more giggles, and it all seems so silly, or am I just too serious?

  Misty’s door opens again. The sleeveless dress peaks out from under a huge gray hoodie. “Happy?” Misty says to Dad and then walks toward the group. Misty motions for Nathan to join her. He follows her like a puppy.

  “I want you both home by midnight,” Dad says so stern that it almost makes me want to laugh.

  “Okay,” I say. Misty says nothing. She’s too busy whispering in Nathan’s ear.

  “Midnight, Mr. Liu,” Dad tells Kevin, then shakes his hand.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Kelly,” Kevin says, all man-to-man. He shoots a glance at me. I try to smile.

  “Let’s party! Woot woot!” Misty shouts as she leads the way toward the door. Hurricane Misty is gaining momentum. Tonight’s set for a perfect storm.

  11

  “Rachel, honey, where is Misty?” I rub my eyes, then glance at the clock. 10:00 a.m.

  “Like I told you last night, I don’t know.” Misty ditched us halfway through the dance. We left without her. “She’s still not back?”

  “No,” says Dad, sounding tense and exhausted at the same time. “You’re sure you don’t have any idea where she might’ve gone after the dance?”