by Holly Hood
Another knock sounded on the door. In walked a tall man in black dress pants and a gray jacket. He immediately pulled his hat off.
“Ms. Zigler, my name is Officer Jeffries.” He gave a nod, coming to the other side of my bed.
“Okay,” was all I said around the thermometer.
“Are you up for some questions?” He took a seat in the chair Nona had been sitting in, pulling out a tablet and pen from his inner jacket pocket.
“I guess…sure.” I cleared my throat.
Officer Jeffries tapped his pen on his thigh, looking me over. “Could you tell me what you remember about the attack?”
I held back the shock, then was gifted a couple more memories. I left the party feeling sick. I remembered walking on wobbly legs across the sand.
“I left Tucker’s to go home. I took the usual route across the beach.” I pushed my hair behind my ear. As I brought my hand back down I noticed my scraped knuckles. This pained me even more.
“Okay, do you remember seeing anyone, or did anyone approach you at anytime?” Officer Jeffries questioned.
“No. I don’t remember. I only remember leaving Tucker’s party because I was upset… I just wanted to go home.” I dropped my head, suddenly feeling really emotional.
“Why were you upset?” He jabbed the pen down on the paper, waiting.
“I don’t remember,” I lied. I was too ashamed to admit his stepmom hurt my feelings, or that she thought I was trash and so easily said so.
“Is it true you were caught in Tucker’s room last night?” Officer Jeffries asked me.
My head swirled with anger. “Is that against the law?”
“Well, no, of course not. I am just trying to establish the relationship between you and Mr. Sinclair.” He fidgeted in his seat.
“There is no relationship. Tucker wanted to give me a tour of his house—”
“Or you wanted a tour, is that a fairer answer?” he asked, cutting me off.
I was starting to sense he was trying to insinuate something. Something along the lines that I asked for the trip to Tucker’s bedroom.
“No. Tucker insisted. I didn’t even want to be there five minutes after I arrived.” I crossed my arms in defense.
Officer Jeffries scrawled something on his notepad. Probably that I was a low life, town tramp. It seemed to be the impression everyone had of anyone not rich or a mayor in this town, I thought bitterly.
“What about what happened on the beach. Aren’t you going to ask me about that?”
Officer Jeffries raised a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I’ve already got one side of the story. So let’s hear yours.”
“One side?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He nodded. “If not for Tucker you would have been worse off than a couple scrapes and bruises.”
My mouth dropped in awe. “What are you talking about? Tucker wasn’t around. The last person I was with was Tucker’s dad. That is clear as day now.” The image of Mr. Sinclair, the mayor, handing over that champagne glass full of some disgusting beverage was stamped on my brain. And Tucker was never around. I had taken off before he came back.
“Tucker says Mr. Andrews was taking off when he found you.” He raised his pen, waiting once again to write something down.
“Mr. Andrews?” The name was not familiar to me at all.
“Slade Andrews.” He nodded.
My heart stopped in my chest. “I don’t think that’s right.” I shook my head, my hair falling into my eyes.
“Tucker says Mr. Andrews was fleeing the scene. I think you owe Mr. Sinclair a big thank you, young lady. He saved your life.” He stood.
“No. I’m telling you, the last person I was with was Tucker’s father. He gave me a drink, and I was sick after I drank it. Can’t you test the glass or question him?” I sat up in bed, totally freaked out now.
Mr. Jeffries raised a single hand stopping me from saying anything else. “Mr. Sinclair is a very well respected member of Cherry and it would be in your best interest to not try and throw such allegations around.” He opened the hospital door, turning back to me. “If you remember anything substantial, like maybe Slade Andrews, it would be greatly appreciated, I would like to get him off the streets.”
“If Slade attacked me wouldn’t there be some type of proof on me?” I asked, staring down at my hospital gown. They had my clothes. And I knew enough from watching crime shows on television they were thorough when it involved assaults. I plopped my head down on the pillow. I hoped I hadn’t been assaulted. The idea of it made me ill.
“That’s a work in progress. We are running all proper tests. Good day Ms. Zigler.” He dropped his hat back on his head, closing my door gently behind him.
The nurse came back in just as I started bawling. “Honey, is everything okay?” She stood at the end of my bed, her face full of concern.
“I’m afraid of what happened last night.” I sobbed into my arm.
“What do you mean?” she asked, coming around the bed to me. “Just a couple scrapes and bruises. That’s it. It seems you had a savior on your side last night.”
I looked up. “Wh-at?”
“Yeah. From what I hear, you were very lucky that Tucker was there when he was. Or lord knows what could have happened. He scared him away.” She patted my arm, and then jiggled my IV bag, looking it over.
Two days later I was back home. I stayed in my room with the door locked. Dad knew not to mention it to me. And I didn’t want to talk about it. I was deeply confused and still trying my hardest to get all the pieces put back together in my mind. The only bright side was that I was saved from something uglier happening to me. Something so ugly that it scared me to my core to even think about.
I had missed school and I really didn’t care to ever go back there. I knew eventually I would have to face all of them again, but not now. I wasn’t ready.
My phone rang, ending my nap. I ran my hand over the table next to my bed finally locating the phone.
“Hello,” I said groggy.
“Sweetie, it’s Mom. I haven’t been able to talk to you in days. How are you?” Mom asked. If she had any motherly instinct left in her body she would have flown here to be with me in such a hard time. But she didn’t.
“I’m fine. I was taking a nap.” I sat up, looking at the clock. It was after five.
“Griffin says he loves you.” She sighed into the phone. “How are things, have the police figured any more out?”
“I love him too. And no, not that I heard. They are supposed to tell Dad if they do.” I repositioned my pillows behind my head.
“Who is this Slade boy that your father mentioned? They said something about him,” Mom asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Probably the only person here who gets me and is not a snobby prick.”
“Hope Amber,” Mom scolded as if she had a right to tell me to watch my language.
“Well, it’s true. And I don’t want to talk about it. Are you coming here anytime soon?” I asked.
“Well…Pete has a lot going on, and Griffin, he has a competition. I saw Karsen the other day. She told me to tell you hello. Have you talked to her lately?” Mom asked, changing the subject.
I hadn’t talked to Karsen in a while. I was sure she was still busy with her academics, and even though she missed me, she wasn’t going to stop doing what she loved. She probably just didn’t want to hurt my feelings, so she didn’t call to rub it all in.
“No, it’s been awhile. Look, Mom, I got to go.” I waited for her usual response.
“Hope, you could always come back. I could send you a plane ticket.” Her voice cracked at the end. I think she was crying.
“No, I’m okay.”
“Dad will be just fine, honey. He has Nona.” She let out yet another sigh.
“I won’t give up on him, or abandon him. Goodbye.” I chucked the phone at my dresser. It missed, dropping on the carpet.
When was she going to get it?
Hero
; Two days passed quickly. When you stayed in bed hiding away from the world it was easy. Now I was in public with Nona and Claude. They all but forced me to come out to eat with them. Nona said it wasn’t healthy to stay locked up, that I must push forward and hold my head high.
I said she was nuts. That I didn’t need to do anything but stay away from the whole town. They all were crazy. I trusted nobody but my family.
“Are you not hungry, Hope?” Claude asked me in his French accent.
I poked at my pasta, disgusted. “Not really,” I muttered. I avoided the stares that seemed to be coming from just about every table. We were at one of the shore restaurants, and if it hadn’t been for Nona’s persistent knocking on my bedroom door threatening to have Claude take the door off the hinges if I didn’t open it, I would have stayed secluded.
“Eat up, Hope,” Nona urged, tapping her fork against my plate, the clacking noise sending me in motion.
I twirled some noodles around my heavy metal fork, one hand holding the side of my face up.
“This can’t go on forever,” Nona muttered, ruffling her napkin on her lap. She stared down, avoiding eye contact with me as she grumbled about me.
“I just want to go home. I told Dad I was fine at home. I can cook,” I argued, hoping she would just give in and send me on my way.
I looked away, slinking further down in my chair, then took my menu and shielded my face from all of them. With my barrier in place, I heard a familiar husky voice.
“Elaine, so nice to see you again,” Tucker’s dad, Everett, said loudly. He placed a hand on Nona’s shoulder, looking her over as I peered over my menu. His eyes gravitating toward me as I finally dropped the menu.
There Tucker stood next to his father, his hands in his pockets. His eyes met mine right away. I sat up, pushing my hair from my face, trying to act uninterested in anything taking place.
“Hope, good to see you out and about,” Everett said with a nod in my direction. Claude shifted a little nervously in his chair. I was sure Dad had informed my whole family my thoughts on Everett Sinclair.
“Hey, Hope,” Tucker said with a weak smile, his eyes darting away quickly. He looked just as uncomfortable as I was being here in the restaurant.
“Hey,” I said dryly, raising one battered hand.
Everett let out a chuckle as Nona went on about his party being so smashing and such a success. I knew it was only to humor him. I had heard her and Dad talking outside on the porch about how she would love to smash him in the face for allowing me to leave alone that night.
“The kids seem to always enjoy the Sinclair get-togethers.” He laughed. I looked a little closer at him and caught sight of the bruise under his eye. He had a black eye. And I couldn’t have been the only one to see this.
“How’d you get the black eye?” I blurted. All eyes gravitated toward me now. Tucker ran a hand through his hair.
A smile crept across Everett Sinclair’s face. “That’s what this old man gets for getting a little too tipsy and trying to surf with the boy. Right Tucker?” He jabbed Tucker in his ribs, pushing him to say something. Tucker nodded, scratching his head.
I stared down at my wrist. The heart looked smeared. I looked closer and let out a shriek.
“Hope, is everything alright?” Nona asked, clutching my shoulder. She leaned in, accessing me for any issues.
“I’m fine, Nona.” I shoved my arm under the table on my lap, peering down at the words. We need to talk. There they sat on my skin. I covered them with the fingers on my left hand, telling them to go away. I didn’t need to look even more nuts than I probably already did. I took a breath, removing my fingers. Tonight, at your window.
I sighed, covering them again. Was Slade really communicating with me via this ink? Maybe I had brain damage from the night someone tried to attack me. I became a bit intrigued, and agreed silently to the meeting. Looking back down, the black heart sat perfectly again as if it never had vanished being replaced by eerie words from a boy I hardly knew. A boy that everyone was accusing of attacking me on the beach. A boy that I really felt a connection to because he was the only non-judging one in this town.
“Hope,” Nona interrupted. I realized it had been some time since I looked back up and acted like a participating human in life.
“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.” I shook my head, trying to play it off.
“Maybe you need some air,” Tucker spoke up.
Nona nodded, agreeing with him. She nudged me to take Tucker up on the offer. I didn’t want to be anywhere near Tucker or his dad.
“Tucker, I want to thank you for taking care of my munchkin the other night. You’re a good boy. I’ve always went on and on to Lynette about you,” Nona gushed.
I sighed, standing up. Were they all too blind to see Tucker came from a deranged lunatic? It was no coincidence he had given me something right before the incident. Or maybe I was over thinking things. Maybe it simply was alcohol, or something else that didn’t agree with my stomach. If that were the case he was only guilty of supplying alcohol to minors. Maybe I was wrong to judge Tucker so harshly based on his father.
I allowed Tucker to hold the door for me. As we stepped out into the night air the ocean felt a little more eerie. The sky felt a little more haunting. Everything about the outdoors gave me a sharp chill now.
We both sat down on a little black bench outside the restaurant. I crossed my arms. “How you been, Tucker?” I asked, looking at him from the corner of my eyes. I kept my gaze on the water.
“It’s been rough. I feel really bad that this happened to you,” he said. He rubbed his hands together, leaning forward.
“Why would you feel bad?” I turned a little.
“Because I wasn’t there. I ran into a friend of mine and started talking with him. I swore I was going to get back to you. And then when I finally did, you were nowhere to be found. And I felt really bad.” He flipped his phone over and over in his hands now. “I ran the length of the beach…and then I saw you.” That’s where he stopped explaining. All fell silent.
“What do you mean you saw me?”
“You were down by the water, half way in. I swear you should have floated off.” He placed a hand on my knee. I pulled away from his touch. He wasn’t the same.
“You said you saw Slade,” I pointed out. I knew this wasn’t something he had forgotten.
“I’m really glad you’re okay, Hope. I know you’re probably angry with me for leaving you that night,” he said, dodging my comment.
“Slade, you said you saw him. Why would you say that? Do you really hate him that much?” I snapped.
“You act as if you’re not glad I found you. How about a thank you, or a thanks, Tucker, for saving me from drowning,” he snapped back.
“I thought you were this nice guy. I really did. But now you seem like a little sad puppy that follows along with everything your dad wants out of you.” I stood. “I know you don’t like Slade. And I also know your dad gave me something to drink that night, and minutes later I’m out of it, stumbling around on the beach. Maybe everyone else is too stupid to figure it out, but I think your dad has something to do with it. And I think you’re covering for him!”
Tucker stood, watching me leave. “That’s a far leap from the truth. Stay away from Slade, Hope. Even if you think I’m some asshole, at least take my words of advice,” he called after me.
I ignored him, going back inside the restaurant.
Once home I said a quick goodbye to Nona and Claude, running inside. Dad was fast asleep as well as Elliot and Easton. I hurriedly took a shower, threw on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top and braided my wet hair down my back. I was ready to talk to Slade and get his side of things.
As the clock ticked in my bedroom, a soft silence took over. I laid down on my bed, resting on my side, waiting to hear any sign of Slade at my window. I made sure to put Crawford in the boy’s room that way he didn’t bark and wake the whole house up.
And now
I waited.
I waited so long I had almost given up and drifted off to sleep. Minutes later there was a soft tapping on my window. The glass rattled and Slade appeared. I jumped up and quietly made it to the window. He was wearing Dickies and a black hooded sweatshirt.
“Hey,” I said as the window opened, the fresh air slipping past me. It was quite humid outside.
“Hey,” Slade whispered back. He waited until I moved out of the way before he took hold of my window sill and climbed right on in.
I shut and locked the window and even closed the curtains. We were alone and I wasn’t at all afraid of him. I took a seat on the floor, resting my body slowly against my bed so it wouldn’t screech.
Slade sat next to me, bringing his hands to his knees like usual. “How you feeling?” he asked first.
I showed him my hands, pulled my shirt down a little to expose the scrapes against my collarbone, as well as the bruises. He placed a hand against the ones on my shoulder, his eyes showing signs of concern.
“You look awful,” he muttered. I held on to his hand.
“I feel awful. I don’t want to go back to school. I hate this town,” I admitted. I let out a long sigh.
“I think I would too.”
“I’m surprised you don’t. They’re accusing you of attacking me,” I pointed out.
Slade watched me closely, his hand finally released from my grasp. “And yet you agreed to meet up with me.” I nodded. Silly me. “Why did you agree? Anyone else would have been scared to death?” he questioned.
I grabbed his hand back, looking at his scraped knuckles—the kind of knuckles you got when you hit something. Dad had been in a couple fights with the wall back home, I was used to scraped knuckles. I knew what they looked like.
“Your hand. What happened to your hand, Slade?” I stared at him.
“Answer me,” he said back, ignoring me.
“Because you don’t scare me. You’ve been actually really great since I moved here. You’re the one great thing about this place.” I looked away as my cheeks warmed. I had just admitted that he was great.
