Risk the Fall

by Steph Campbell

  “Uh, knock much?” A girl calls from the floor next to the bed.

  I shut the door behind me, even though I definitely didn’t take that as an invite for me to stay.

  “Shit, sorry.” I mumble. I press my back up against the door. This was the farthest room down the hall, and I figured it had the best chance of being empty. As usual, I was wrong.

  “You’re sorry, and yet you’re still here,” she says.

  I can only make out her head from where I’m standing since the majority of the room is occupied by a massive four-poster, canopy bed. I peek around the bed and see the she-devil herself, Shayna Gillan.

  “Quinn MacPherson, what the hell are you doing at my party?” she asks. Her voice isn’t angry, although I’m not entirely sure what it is. Amused?

  “Look, just give me a minute and I’ll leave you alone. I’m trying to avoid seeing someone.”

  She laughs, but it isn’t the typical high pitched giggle I hear in the halls at school that makes me want to kick her in the shins. It’s just a normal laugh. Huh.

  “Must be someone pretty hellacious for you to choose to hang out with me in order to avoid them.”

  “We are not hanging out,” I clarify.

  “Right.” She raises her eyebrows and gives me an exaggerated nod. “Whatever you say.”

  “What are you doing hidden away up here at your own party, anyway?” I force myself to walk around the bed. Shayna’s sitting cross legged in a plain t-shirt and grey capri sweat pants. Holy crap, she isn’t even wearing a skirt! Her hair which is normally styled to perfection is in a loose, casual braid and slung over her right shoulder.

  “Please, like I want to hang with any of those people.”

  “Uh, okay, I’ll bite. Why the hell did you invite all of them, then?” It goes against everything I normally believe in, but I take a seat on the carpet across from her. The room looks like it was decorated by the same visually impaired individual who decorated my dad’s office.

  “Quinn, Quinn, Quinn.” She wags her finger at me, which really irks the shit out of me. “You know as well as I do that sometimes, you have to do things you don’t want to just to keep up a certain image.”

  Is she drunk? Why the hell is she telling me all of this? And how is it possible that she of all people can see right through me?

  She glances up for a second. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure about that,” I say. This is getting a little too serious for me. I have to bring it back down a few notches. This is Shayna Gillan after all. What the hell am I doing in here? “You don’t even wear pants. That’s just strange.”

  She snorts, which makes the urge to kick her in the shins almost evaporate completely. “I’m wearing pants right now, asshole.”

  “Touché. So, is this your room?” I motion to the vases full of artificial Birds of Paradise and hibiscus.

  “Negative, this is just a guest room.” She reaches behind her back and pulls out a small tray. “Some scurvy jackholes are occupying my room. I’m going to have to get it sterilized before I’ll be able to sleep in my bed again. Gross.”

  I stare down at the tray that is now mysteriously between us. Shayna is nonchalantly chopping at a small pile of white powder with the edge of a credit card.

  The entire situation is too fucking surreal.

  “Anyway, are you going to tell me who that hot piece was at school today?”

  My body goes rigid. Let it go, Shayna.

  “No one, I mean, he just works for my dad.”

  “Uh-huh,” she says.

  She’s carefully separating the powder into pretty little rails. This is definitely not the first time that Shayna has done this.

  “And did you start sleeping with him before or after you broke up with Ben?”

  Her question sends bile up into my throat. I choke it back down before I can answer.

  “You’re such a bitch.” Rather than an immediate denial, that is what flies out. Great.

  She smiles, even though I’ve just insulted her.

  “Come on, it’s not my fault I’m ultra-observant. It’s not like anyone told me, if that’s what you’re worried about. It was just totally obvs from the way he was gawking at you.”

  Swallow. More. Vomit.

  “He’s a little old for you though, no?”

  She leans down casually, and when she picks her head up, one of the perfect little lines is gone.

  “It’s not like that. I can’t even stand him,” I stammer. I’m unable to remember the last time someone called me out on my shit like this. She wipes her nose and smirks with indifference.

  “Does this bother you?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Hey, whatever makes you happy, be it blow, or sleeping with other people’s boyfriends…”

  “Oh, please. First of all, you’re one to talk, Saint Quinn. I actually halfway liked Heath, and you had to go and sleep with him.”

  I flinch. “He told you?”

  “Shit, he couldn’t stop talking about you afterward, you skank.” She laughs through the insult. “And secondly, do you honestly think every guy I’ve been with was because it made me feel good?” She leans down and when she lifts her head there’s another empty space on the tray. “Hell no. Mostly, it was just to make them feel good. So, obviously, I’m not judging.”

  This is too damn weird. I’ve avoided having anything to do with this girl for years, and now she’s trying to bond with me like we’re besties?

  “Plus, I don’t blame you, that guy today was super hot. Damn.”

  I throw my hands up. “I’m sorry, this is too strange.”

  “What? Me doing coke in front of you? Or are you just amazed that when you stop being such a guarded, snarky bitch for half a second, and actually give someone a chance, that they aren’t who you think they are?” She raises her perfectly arched eyebrow.

  “The second one.” I laugh.

  “Want some?” She offers up the glass tray.

  I’ve never stuck anything up my nose before, but if something can bring Shayna Gillan and I to common ground, it can’t be that bad, right?

  “Sure,” I answer.

  “Uh, I don’t think so.” I look up and see Daniel in the doorway.

  “Hey Danny, what’s up,” Shayna coo’s, in her usual flirty voice.

  “Hey Shayna.” He nods. “Quinn, we’re leaving.” He extends a hand to help me up. I know as soon as I touch it, he will have to get out his hand sanitizer. I run my fingers across his palm just to be a jerk, but don’t grab it.

  “No, no we’re not,” I say defiantly. “I’m not ready to go.” What is it with everyone in my life telling me what to do all the time?

  He shakes his head. “That’s nasty, Quinn.” The bottle of sanitizer in his shirt pocket stays where it is for once. “Look, I get it you’re upset, but you don’t need to get messed up with that shit, trust me.”

  Shayna scoffs. “Thanks a lot, Dan.” She pouts like she’s really offended, but from what I’ve seen from her tonight, it’s probably just an act.

  I stand up and lean in close to him.

  “We haven’t been together in a long time, Daniel. What I do is not your business.”

  He stares at me so intently, that there is nowhere else to look but back into his eyes.

  “I’m not leaving without you, Quinn.”

  “Why do you even care?” I ask.

  “I know I haven’t always been the most stand-up guy in the world, Quinn. But even I can’t let you do this.”

  I curl my fists over and over again, they are tingling with anger.

  “Come on, don’t make me have to be a total dick and carry you out of here over my shoulder.”

  “See you around, Quinn,” Shayna says.

  “So, do you plan on telling me what the fuck was going on back in there?” Daniel says.

  I’ve been lucky so far, his eyes haven’t left the road to look at me. Even now that we’re stopped at a red ligh
t, he keeps them glued forward. Daniel and I have never really had a serious conversation. Even though we were together for six months, it was always light and fun. When things stopped being as fun, I broke up with him. And even our breakup wasn’t serious. He took it well, and then jumped on a plane for Mexico.

  “I know right? Shayna and I hanging out? Crazy night, huh?”

  His hands hit the leather seats with a thud and his mouth drops open in stunned irritation.

  “Quinn, what the hell’s gotten into you? You hardly come to school and when you do, you walk around like a friggin’ zombie. You’re always grounded, but you won’t ever talk about why. The only time you call me anymore is when you need help sneaking out of your house!”

  “Finished?”

  “Tess and Sydney say you never hang out with them anymore. And then, I’ve got your ex telling me—”

  “Telling you what?” I snap.

  “Nothing.” He looks back up at the road and slowly shifts gears.

  “Telling you what?” I repeat.

  “Nothing bad, he just asked me to look out for you. And really, after tonight, I can kind of see why.”

  He is barely coasting down my street now as if he’s trying to prolong the awkwardness. If he’d slow down just a bit more, I’d seriously consider doing a little stop, drop and roll action.

  “I mean, were you really about to snort that shit? That’s just not you Quinn.”

  I exhale sharply. “I don’t need you looking out for me, Daniel. I just need everyone to leave me alone.”

  “You know, I don’t get you lately. You’ve always been so happy. Even when things were bad with us, you were never miserable like this, but the last few months…”

  I know. I feel like I’m drowning. Sometimes I wish that I was.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Fine? Really, that’s what you’re going with?”

  “What do you want me to say, Daniel?”

  “I don’t know, the truth maybe? You’re hiding something. Ever since you and that Ben guy broke up, you have been a different person.”

  He’s right, of course. I’ve kept my feelings to myself for so many years, but after I screwed things up with Ben, it’s felt like I’m cracked, like I’ve been left exposed. I don’t know how to conceal my anger and hurt any more. I don’t know how to pick up the pieces.

  “It’s complicated,” I say, staring down at my Cha-Ching-Cherry nails.

  He parks two houses down from mine and shuts the engine off. My fingers are linked and twisted into an imaginary Chinese jump rope. Daniel raises his eyebrows in a way that says, “Okay, explain.”

  I’m a liar. A thief. A cheater. An overall sucky human being.

  “I’ve really got to go, Daniel. Thanks for the ride.” My body is halfway out of the truck when his hand catches my wrist.

  “Quinn, you’d tell me if Ben…” he frowns. “If he like hurt you…”

  With that, my heart drops. “Oh, God no, he’d never. Really, it’s nothing like that.”

  He nods. “Got it. I just want you to be all right. I know I’ve been a dick in the past, and I know we didn’t work out but you’re still my girl.”

  My mouth curves into a small smile. He genuinely cares about me. I never realized it until this moment.

  “You have a lot of girls,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

  He flashes a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Night, Daniel. Thanks again.”

  I walk slowly toward my house. I know Daniel’s sitting in his truck waiting to check I make it in safely, but I can’t make myself hurry. I can see a light coming from the living room that was dark when I’d left earlier and I know that any attempt to scale the walls of the house and sneak back into my room will be futile. Invisible needles prick my skin, and the thumping from my chest is clearly audible. My breath catches as I turn the doorknob.

  The space on the couch where my mom had been snoring away earlier is now empty.

  As silently as I can, I pad my way past the kitchen, which is also quiet. Even as I tiptoe up the stairs to my bedroom, I don’t hear or see anything. Is it even possible that I have actually gotten away with it?

  The only sound I hear echo through the silence is the click that my bedroom door makes closing behind me. My heart finally slows, and I start to breath normally.

  It isn’t until after I wipe off my makeup and throw on a pair of pajamas that I see it.

  My bedroom screen is back on my window.

  When I crack my eyes open and see the sunshine streaming through the window, my stomach instantly ties itself back into knots. The darkness had been like a shield protecting me from the reality that my parents are downstairs concocting my punishment right now. I want to stay in my cocoon all day, I don’t want to have to go downstairs and face them. I wonder what the likelihood is that they will come looking for me if I do stay hidden away in my bed.

  The wall is cool as I press my ear to it, listening for any activity. The only noise I hear is my own stomach growling obscenely. Crap. I hope Daniel is proud of himself, if he hadn’t interrupted my moment with Shayna, I might not have such a need to get up and raid the fridge. Okay, I’ll admit, I’m a little relieved that he walked in when he did. Who knows what would have happened if I actually went through with it. I’ve never done coke before, I don’t know how I’d react. What if I had turned all psycho and started another fight with Ben like I did at Grant’s party? I guess I don’t hate Daniel too much for going all parental on me.

  I pull on a pair of thick socks and a hoodie before nervously starting down the stairs. Each of my footsteps causes its own individual panic attack. For the love of god, why didn’t I just stay home last night? This is so not worth it. I pause once more before turning into the kitchen. Okay, what’s my excuse going to be? One of my girlfriends was in trouble? I’m eighteen, I shouldn’t be punished? No, neither of those will work. Why didn’t I work this out before leaving my bedroom?

  Only my parents aren’t sitting at the breakfast table like they are every Saturday morning. There is no exchange of stern faces while they discuss my punishment over champagne spiked orange juice and the newspaper. There is only Mason, shoulders hunched over a bowl of cold cereal.

  “Morning,” I say. His brow furrows, but he doesn’t look up. When he takes a bite of the soggy, whole grain mess, the milk dribbles down his chin. He wipes it with the back of his sleeve, and then stares back into the bowl.

  I start my savior, the coffee maker, and start whisking eggs for an omelet. Mason still has yet to acknowledge me. “Bacon and cheese omelet?” I offer.

  Silence.

  “Are you going to tell me what the heck is wrong with you, or are you just going to continue to ignore me?” I ask, waving a block of cheese at him.

  Wordlessly, he passes behind me to dump the rest of his cereal down the garbage disposal.

  “Mason,” I press.

  He finally spins to face me.

  “Mom left.”

  And here we go again.

  “Where’d she go? Why?”

  “Because of you,” he says sharply. His eyes brim with tears.

  Mason is too young to remember my mom’s frequent “getaways.” While Carter and I were growing up, it was a constant thing. Mason has witnessed his fair share of arguing and breakdowns, but I don’t think he remembers all of the times she has pulled this crap in the past. He has been insanely sheltered since we moved to Atlanta. He may hear them fight with me, but as far as he knows, they are mostly happy. Mason is their last hope at having a “good” kid.

  I sigh deeply. “What do you mean, because of me?”

  His cleats slam across the tile as he stomps to the other side of the room – away from me.

  “You had to sneak out. You always have to do whatever you want, no matter what Mom and Dad say. Well they found out, Quinn. You’re so stupid!” he yells. His usually tiny voice is filled with fury. I am stupid. I don’t need a twelve-year-old to clue me
into that fact.

  “Dad started packing up all of your stuff. He wanted to put it all out on the lawn. And you know what, you deserved it! But Mom wouldn’t let him do it. She tried to stick up for you. They had a big fight all because of you!”

  I defensively fold my arms over my chest. “Look, Mason. There is stuff going on that you just don’t understand.”

  “I understand that you’re a selfish idiot. I understand that you’re a stupid liar that steals from them. I understand that everything would be fine if you weren’t here!”

  His words bite at me like a mountain of fire ants. Still, I’m more shocked by the news that my mom actually tried to stick up for me.

  “Mom will be back,” I say. “She always comes back.”

  “No, she won’t. Dad told her never to come back.”

  I flinch slightly remembering the last time that my dad told my mom to stay gone. Mason was away at baseball camp. The parents were fighting because Mom wanted to stop taking so much medicine. She said she was tired of feeling drugged all the time, and wanted to see how she did without such heavy doses. That infuriated Dad; he threatened to have her committed if she did. Carter and I were sitting at the table eating dinner while they argued. They didn’t tell us to leave. It was like they thrived on having a good audience for their drama. It wouldn’t be as fun if they were doing it behind closed doors. They needed to see us upset to make their show worthwhile. Mom was livid when Dad threatened her with being put away. She grabbed a steak knife off of the counter and theatrically pressed it into her stomach. I still cringe when I remember that moment, even though I now realize the amount of pressure she applied must’ve been so ridiculously minimal. She wasn’t looking to hurt herself; she was looking to get a rise out of all of us. Carter and I started to cry hysterically, and Dad told her to get out and never come back.

  She left for the night, and the next morning she was back, the sun was shining and it was never mentioned again. Maybe that’s why I snuck out last night, even knowing I’d get caught. In the history of our house, even the worst arguments and disasters are all for show, so it’s hard to have a firm grasp on consequences, because they were always so fleeting.