by E. J. Mara
Brad laughs, but it’s obvious that the laugh is forced. His pale blue eyes are somber as he pats Esther’s shoulder.
“Seriously, what happened?” I ask, approaching them and making sure to avert my gaze from her eye. I don’t want to keep staring and make Esther more uncomfortable than she must already feel. Besides, seeing her like this brings back bad memories.
Unsettled, I crack my knuckles and glance at Brad, but he looks down at the mat and clears his throat. So I return my attention to Esther. “Esther, it’s okay. Just tell us who did it, and we’ll make sure he never does it again.” I glance at Brad. “Come on, back me up, Brad.”
He grimaces. “Actually, no can do, cuz it was a girl.”
“Oh.” I think quickly, trying to recall if Julia said anything about a fight breaking out at school. But why would anyone fight Esther? Literally everyone likes her.
“And not just any girl,” Brad says.
“Hey!” Esther arches an eyebrow at him. “It’s a black eye, not the plague. I’m fine. Just forget about it. My God ...”
“How?” Brad frowns. “Every time we look at you, we remember there’s a psycho in our school and all she’s getting is three days suspension. If you ask me, somebody needs to teach that-”
“No one needs to do anything.” Esther cuts in. She straightens her spine, making herself nearly as tall as Brad, and moves towards him. Brad gulps and takes a tiny step back.
Mere inches from his face, she lowers her voice and says, “If I wanted something “done”, I’d do it myself. So, leave her alone and keep your mouth shut. Can you manage that?”
I look from Brad, who’s now blushing to the worse degree possible, to this …street fighter version of Esther Reams. I’ve known Esther since middle school, and when she’s not joking around or planning the next party at her house, she’s talking about gymnastics. She’s never this intense.
Brad’s lips twitch and his nostrils flare as he nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
Esther gives him one final look before turning her attention to me. “And you won’t bring it up again either, right?”
“If that’s what you want,” I slowly reply.
“It is.” She turns on her heel and heads to a group of girls who’ve just exited the locker room.
“Dude,” Brad whispers, “that was so freaking hot. Did you see the way she looked at me?”
“Yeah,” I say, unable to take my eyes off of Esther. “But that was strange, right?”
Now that Esther’s with her friends, she softens her toy soldier posture. Reaching up and pulling a strand of hair out of her bun, she twirls it around her finger. With that, Esther plants a huge grin on her face, says something to a girl named Lucy and they laugh as Lucy loops her arm through Esther’s. It’s like she’s become a completely different person …weird.
I finally turn to Brad, who’s still staring at Esther, but for completely different reasons. His head tilted and his eyes narrowed, he watches her with glazed over eyes. The guy likes her so much that it’s kind of pathetic.
I clear my throat. “So, sounds like you know who did that to her.”
Brad snaps out of his trance and glances at me. Sighing, he tugs at the shoulder strap of his blue leotard. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you won’t want to hear it.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Esther’s going to kill me for saying this,” Brad says with a groan, “but it was you and Julia’s psycho friend. Before first hour she ran Esther down in the parking lot and tried to beat her up.”
I blink back at Brad in confusion. “Me and Julia’s psycho friend?”
Brad points to someone in the distance. “That, right there.”
I turn around and Karen, her head down and her shoulders sagging, is sauntering into the practice area from the girls’ locker room.
Like every other girl in her class, her hair is pulled back into a bun, and she wears a light blue leotard. Still …she’s different, not just from her classmates, but from any girl I’ve ever seen.
My breath hitches in my chest and whatever Brad was talking about drifts, forgotten, into some black hole of my subconscious. This happens to me almost every time Karen walks into a room. And it’s not just because she’s pretty, it’s more than that. She’s got this solidarity, a quiet confidence that paints her every movement and gesture with …well, I don’t even know how to explain it. All I know is that the word to describe Karen isn’t “pretty,” it’s beyond that, it’s a word that hangs out somewhere in the neighborhood of “divine.”
She pauses in stride, lifts her hand, and slips off the strange-looking ring she’s recently taken to wearing. With that, she returns to the locker room, and as she turns around, I can’t help but let my gaze slide to her backside. It’s perfect; the kind of butt that makes everything she wears sexy, even those worn-out gymnastics leotards of hers.
Okay, I’m starting to drift.
Warmth rising to my cheeks, I tear my eyes away from Karen’s butt and try to focus on what Brad’s still going on about. I try and retrace my thoughts. What were we talking about?
“ …cute or whatever, but man I’m telling you, she’s nuts,” Brad says as he grabs his ankles and pulls his calves behind his thighs, stretching, “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but there’s a reason why her mom did what she did.”
Regaining my footing in our conversation and realizing what Brad’s claiming, I bristle. “Yeah, right. Karen gave Esther a black eye? Sure, Brad.”
Brad stops stretching and leans against the pommel horse as he arches an eyebrow. “I saw the whole thing happen from Mr. Day’s class. It was messed up. Karen just went after her for no reason. It was like she snapped.”
Hesitant, I watch Brad’s eyes, waiting for their seriousness to level out into amusement. He does this; he’ll say something bizarre and then come back with, “Just kidding, ha ha, gotcha.”
Still unsmiling, Brad claps a hand on my shoulder. “I hate to say it, ‘cause I know you like her, but I’m telling you, Karen’s got issues. I’ve never seen anything like the way she went after Esther.”
I shove him away and Brad stumbles backwards. Surprise registering in his features, he raises both of his hands in surrender. “Whoa.”
“You’re not funny, man. Don’t you think she’s been through enough already? Actually, whatever. I need to go warm up.” Turning away from Brad, I pad across the mat, headed for the rings.
Sometimes I don’t get Brad. He’s a pretty nonjudgmental guy, but then he goes and rags on Karen. Sure, she’s different, but why hate on someone just because they’re different? So what if they’re quiet and a little socially awkward …well, a lot socially awkward, maybe even to the point of acting stuck up. But Karen’s not really stuck up. She’s had Unseen as a father her whole life. Of course she’s messed up!
I grab a handful of chalk, spread it over my palms and glance at Esther while she laughs with a few of her friends. At the sight of her eye, all swollen and purple, my stomach turns.
Anyway, Unseen’s daughter wouldn’t do something like that.
I turn away from Esther and her black eye, reeling as the memory of my father’s fist connecting with my face comes at me out of nowhere.
Taking a deep breath, my own fists clenched, I approach the rings. Grabbing them, I hoist myself up and swing, determined to clear my head.
“WHAT WAS WRONG out there?” Coach Peterson asks, his voice low so my friends won’t hear.
I dare a quick look around the locker room. Brad’s in conversation with a few of the guys, and all four of them keep glancing our way.
Coach’s discretion is kind but pointless. Everybody saw me freeze up on the high bar during a basic routine. There’s no need to whisper about it now.
Stifling a sigh, I meet his eyes and shrug. “I started thinking too much.”
“Is your dad trying to get you to go out there and visit him again? Is that what’s going on?” Coa
ch Peterson asks.
I shake my head. “No, sir. I’m just having a rough day. Sorry.”
Crossing his arms, Coach leans against the empty locker behind him. “Of course I care about this weekend’s meet, but you’re more important than a meet. So if there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m here. Got that?”
I nod.
I know Coach means it; he’s definitely been there for Mom and me. That day he took me home and we found Mom with a black eye, he was the one who finally convinced her to press charges against Dad and leave him for good.
“Okay, now go on, get out of here,” Coach says, securing his clipboard under his arm and heading to his office.
Without a word to my friends, I grab my duffel bag and leave the locker room. The last thing I want is to hang around and listen to Brad joke about how badly I screwed up on the high bar or, even worse, listen to him badmouth Karen…Karen.
“I completely forgot,” I mutter.
Oh well, it’s not like I’m actually up to having that whole, “I know about your dad” conversation tonight. Maybe tomorrow. My keys in hand, I make a mad dash for the gym’s back exit, hoping to avoid running into anyone.
I get to my Jeep and, of course, being that the universe is against me, it doesn’t start. Cursing under my breath, I turn it over a few times and finally, the engine revs. I peel out of the parking lot, gravel flying behind me, and turn onto the highway.
It’s beginning to get dark and the moon peeks out from behind a silvery cloud. Something about it looks ominous, putting me on edge. I chide myself for being silly, but I can’t shake the feeling. Trying to ignore the premonition, I zoom past an abandoned gas station, past the Tipson’s small fenced-in field where their three horses lounge, and past a lone figure walking along the roadside.
I hit my breaks.
My eyes going to the rearview mirror, I pull over and watch the silhouette behind me. It’s Karen. She’s walking slowly, her gym bag in her left hand. Well, maybe the universe isn’t completely against me.
I put the Jeep in reverse, run a quick hand through my hair, and park a few feet ahead of her.
“Your dad forget to pick you up again?” I shout, hopping out and heading her way.
“Yeah.”
I stop in my tracks as I get a good look at Karen. Her eyes are watery and her nose is red. My heart sinks. “You alright?”
She glances sideways, blinking quickly. “Thanks for stopping, Nathaniel, but I don’t need a ride.”
“But it’s dark out.” I gesture to the darkening skies.
“It’s also Peake, Alabama” she dryly replies. “Nothing happens here. Except suicide.” On that cheerful note, she walks past me and says, “So, I think I’m good.”
“Karen, wait.” I start after her, but she doesn’t slow down for a millisecond. I hurry to catch up with her. “Hey!”
She says nothing and gives no indication of having heard me. Her shoulder-length hair, freed from the mandatory gymnastics bun, is lifted and tossed by a nighttime breeze. I fall in step beside her as the wind sends whiffs of her shampoo my way and inhale the scent, her scent.
I stare at her, unable to help myself. I wish other people could see her the way I do. Between her flowing hair, the soft curves of her cheeks, and her deep brown eyes, she looks angelic. How could Brad say she beat Esther up?
“Hey.”
“What, Nathaniel?” she snaps, hurrying past my Jeep.
Wincing at her tone, I scramble to keep up with her. “Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not.”
“Then let me take you home. That’s better than you walking alone for five miles in the dark.”
“Oh my God, fine.” Sighing, she turns on her heel and heads back to my Jeep.
Relieved, but panicked, I nod. “Well, good…then…okay.” As we head back to the Jeep, I toy with my keys, realizing that in spite of my godawful day at practice, I do want to talk to Karen. But, what do I bring up first: her dad’s secret identity or the deal with people saying she hit Esther?
I glance at Karen and her eyes are no longer red, but as they meet mine she averts her gaze.
“Whatever I did to make you mad,” I say, opening the passenger door for her, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad at you. And it’s not the ‘fifties, I can open my own door.” She tries to shove me out of her way and rolls her eyes when her attempt is useless.
“I’m pretty sure you’re mad at me.” I throw a pointed look at her hand, which is still in shoving-mode on my arm, and come face to face with a purple bruise that all but covers her fist. It’s the same kind of bruise my father’s fists often had. My stomach turns and an unexpected surge of anger rises within me.
Karen lowers her hand. “What?”
I can’t believe this. I turn away from her and head to the driver’s side.
“Nathaniel, what was that face for?” Karen calls after me. “Why’d you look at me like that?”
I don’t even know where to start in answering her.
“I’m glad you’re letting me take you home,” I finally reply, sliding into my seat as she hops in and turns to me. I try my best to sound calm as I continue, “Because we need to talk.”
“…AND SHE WAS laughing, like she didn’t even care.” Karen’s fists are clenched as she hits her knee. “Esther’s just another one of Peake’s rich, self-centered brats.”
I slow for a red light, conflicted between empathy for Karen and disgust at what she’s done. That’s why I can’t look at her right now, it’d be too confusing. I turn my attention to two deer standing along the roadside. They dart away, retreating into the nearby woods while Karen goes on, “Out of all the preppy snobs at school and gymnastics, Esther’s the worst.”
I can’t let that one go.
Trying to keep my voice even, I speak through gritted teeth, “How do you even know what Esther’s like? When was the last time you had a conversation with her?”
“Why would I talk to her?” Karen mutters as she turns to glare out of the passenger window.
“Because she’s cool,” I retort, unable to keep the annoyance out of my tone, “and-”
“Esther Reams is not cool.”
We turn to each other and I start to negate this, but Karen interrupts me.
“And the only reason you think she is, is because she’s cute and she invites you to her stupid parties.” Karen blinks back at me, her big brown eyes boring into mine. My heart skips a beat. As pissed off as I am, I’d have to be completely blind not to notice how pretty she looks right now.
Startled by the blankness that consumes my thoughts, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind, “You’re just being retarded.”
“Oh, my God, Nathaniel!” Rolling her eyes, Karen shakes her head and, to my disadvantage, moistens her lips. I watch her tongue dart over her lips and shift in my seat uncomfortably. If I keep staring at her I’m going to forget the whole point of this argument. I turn away from her and see that the light’s green. Accelerating through it, I attempt to get a handle on myself.
Karen, meanwhile, continues to bite my head off. “…that word is so offensive! You know how insulting it is to people with disabilities, so why would you use it?”
Once her words start to make sense in my head, I quickly reply, “You’re right, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said retarded. I wasn’t thinking.”
She shakes her head, mumbling something under her breath about me starting to sound like my snobby friends. Annoyed, I grit my teeth and ease off the accelerator as we head into town, where the speed limit is only 35 mph.
“And if me using an offensive word hurt you that much,” I snap, “can you imagine how much you hurt Esther by punching her?”
“She wasn’t hurt, she laughed!”
“Even though her eye is swollen and her nose is nearly broken, she wasn’t hurt? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying she deserved it, Nathaniel!”
I wince, my thought
s shifting to my father as we approach a red light at the intersection between Peake Grocery and one of our town’s two gas stations. I slow to a stop and say, “No one deserves to get punched in the face.”
That was Dad’s word of choice when it came to defending what he’d do to us; we “deserved” his every blow. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia bearing down on me, I can hardly breathe. I flip on the AC.
“Trust me, Nathaniel, she did deserv-”
“No, she didn’t. You’re just jealous. That’s the problem,” I retort. “You’re jealous and you’re too proud to admit it.”
“I am not jealous of Esther Reams! I don’t want her stupid money or her fancy-”
“I’m not talking about her money,” I cut in. “I’m talking about her friends. People like Esther. Nobody likes you. You’re the snob, Karen. You judge people before you even get to know them. You’re so busy criticizing everyone that you don’t even see them. That makes you the snob, not her.”
Silence, sudden and as sharp as a knife, fills the Jeep while I turn away from her, setting my gaze on the road ahead.
Holy crap. What did I just say? Gulping, I dare a glimpse at Karen and she’s staring at me with wide eyes, her mouth open.
Upon meeting my eyes, she blinks and turns away, facing forward. A pang of regret grips my heart.
I start to apologize, but she says, “I’m not jealous of Esther, and since we’re talking about my flaws, how about yours?”
Words leaving me, I look at her in dumb silence.
“You’re a coward,” she says, her eyes narrowed and her tone even. “You don’t know how to fight for what you want and you don’t even know what you want because you’re afraid to be honest with yourself. You’re afraid of everything.”
I nearly wince, but catch myself. Rolling my eyes in a show of nonchalance, I shake my head. “Okay, first of all,” I say, hearing my voice shake. “I do know what I want, um…”
“Obviously, you don’t.” Karen turns away from me. “I thought you wanted to be my friend, that you were, like, the one person in this stupid town who I don’t have to defend myself to.”
