by JM Darhower
She was unable to speak, afraid if she opened her mouth, she’d lose it. It confused her, as she’d never had these reactions toward Master Michael. She endured so much from him and could get up afterward, but in one night, without even raising his hand, Dr. DeMarco shattered a part of her.
He stood up and walked out while she just sat there, trying to find the strength to push forward.
The rest of the night flew by. The house was quiet when Haven forced herself out of bed the next morning. Limping, she pushed through the pain. It was something she knew well. Pain reminded her of who she was, every ache and throb and sharp sting reminding her that she was still alive. She was still alive.
For the first time since coming to the DeMarco house, something felt familiar to her.
Chapter 10
Durante fell under autumn’s clutch, the weather breaking as the town started to change. The lush green faded, giving way to rich, warm hues scattered among the tall pine trees. Leaves fell in heaps on the ground, covering the earth like a crisp blanket.
With the emergence of autumn came something else the town rejoiced in—Homecoming. It was the one week out of the year where everyone put their separate lives aside and joined together to show their pride in the community. It was a big extravaganza, with spirit week and a pep rally, a parade and celebration. The week's activities culminated in a dance Saturday night, one that Carmine had been dreading all week.
He knew he should’ve been excited, considering it was the football team’s time to shine, but all he felt was pressure. Girls were waiting for him to pick a date, so he walked into school one morning, seeing Lisa blocking his locker, and told her she was going with him to the dance.
It wasn’t who he wanted to take, but the one he wanted wasn’t an option for him. He wasn’t sure if she ever would be, to be honest.
Haven had been cold all week, hiding out at night again whenever he was home. He felt like he would explode if she didn’t smile at him soon, the tension too much to take. He heard her crying at night as he sat in the library, whittling away the hours by plucking the strings on his guitar.
He was sitting in his car in the school parking lot after the last bell rang the afternoon of Homecoming when the passenger door opened. Carmine’s head snapped in that direction, seeing it was Dia. “Hey, Warhol.”
She smiled. “I told you it would happen.”
“Told me what?”
“That you’d fall for someone.”
He tried to look like he didn’t know what she meant. He couldn’t handle someone else looking at him with pity because he’d caught feelings for the one girl he couldn’t have. “You know the only person I love is me.”
“You don’t have to pretend, Carmine.”
“What makes you think I love her?”
She laughed. “The fact that you didn’t even ask who I was talking about gives you away.”
He mentally cursed himself. He hadn’t played that off well at all. “Maybe you're misinterpreting shit.”
“I don't think so,” she said. “I think I’m right.”
He slumped forward, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. “Am I that obvious?”
“No, but I’ve never been fooled by you.”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I can’t be with her, anyway.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Seriously, Dia? Are we even talking about the same people?”
“L'amore è cieco,” she said, her pronunciation horrific, but Carmine knew what she was saying. Love is blind.
“Love may be blind, Dia, but my father isn’t. I’m not worried about love killing us as much as I am him.”
“I think he’d be happy that you let someone in.”
“Would you bet your life on that? Because I can’t put Haven’s life on the line on a hunch that he might accept it. I know I’m cocky, but do you think I’m that much of a selfish prick? But regardless, it doesn’t matter. There’s no way she’d feel that way about me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Have you met me? I’m not exactly a great guy. She doesn’t understand me.”
“Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do. I’m just saying that when the time’s right, you’ll see it for yourself.”
* * * *
It was close to six in the evening when Haven opened her bedroom door, prepared to head downstairs to start dinner, and came face-to-face with Dr. DeMarco. He stood in the hallway with his fist raised to knock, and she took a step back into the room as he dropped his hand. “May I come in?”
She nodded, confused as to why he was asking permission when it was his house. He entered the room nonchalantly, as if he were just there for casual conversation. “So, how do your knees feel?”
“Fine,” she said quietly.
“Good,” he said. “Do you think you’re up for a trip out of the house then?”
His question alarmed her, and a voice in the back of her mind screamed. It’s a trick.
“Only if you say so, sir,” she said, eyeing him warily.
Dr. DeMarco nodded and reached out to her, but she recoiled. Her heart pounded rapidly as she braced herself to be struck, but he dropped his hand without touching her. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to Carmine’s football game, so make yourself presentable.”
She stood there for a moment when he walked out, having no idea what he considered presentable. She eventually changed into a pair of khaki pants and a sweater before tentatively stepping into the bathroom and glanced at her reflection.
Her hair was frizzy. She brushed it, but there was nothing she could do to tame the natural curls. She pulled it back with a rubber band and forced her feet into a pair of shoes before heading downstairs. Dr. DeMarco waited in the foyer with his hands shoved in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. Hearing her approach, he turned and scanned her. She awaited his assessment, but he said nothing as he pulled out his keys and opened the front door.
Haven stepped out onto the porch as he locked up the house, ushering her into the passenger seat of the car.
Durante High School’s parking lot was packed when they arrived. Every spot was filled, cars lined up along the road and covering the grassy field beside the school. Haven gaped at them all as Dr. DeMarco parked on the grass.
“I’ve gone about things the wrong way,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I’ve kept you in the house until you could prove to me that you’d act appropriately in public, but there’s no way for you to do that until I allow you around other people. So I’m giving you a chance, and I expect you to be on your best behavior. If you show me some courtesy, some trust, maybe I’ll show you some in return. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Her knees wobbled as they made their way into the stadium. People surrounded them on all sides, shoving past and blocking their path. Dr. DeMarco glided through the crowd fluidly, while she followed behind, feeling like she was drowning. They encircled her, the voices and bodies swallowing her like a current. Her breathing grew shallow as she nearly hyperventilated every time someone bumped into her. Dr. DeMarco paid her no mind, and she fought to keep her composure as they headed up the packed bleachers.
A voice carried over the loudspeaker and a band played as cheerleaders ran out, chanting something Haven couldn’t make out over the roar of the crowd. She covered her ears as everyone took their seats, only dropping her hands when it all calmed down.
Familiar laughter rang out, and Haven looked in the direction of the sound. Dominic walked toward them with his arm draped around Tess, Dia begrudgingly following behind them.
“I’m surprised you guys are here,” Dominic said, taking a seat in front of them. Tess stared at her for a moment, her gaze so intense that Haven squirmed, before sitting down beside him. Dia smiled, wedging herself between Haven and Dr. DeMarco. It startled Haven, but Dr. DeMarco simply slid over to give the girl room.
“I took the
evening off,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I figured I’d give her a ride to the game tonight.”
Haven’s brow furrowed at his casual words, as if she’d been the one who asked to come. Dominic looked at them peculiarly. “I could’ve driven her.”
Dr. DeMarco shrugged. “You haven’t offered before, so I wasn’t aware you’d be willing to. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
Dominic opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. He sat there like he was trying to find the words and closed his mouth again when none would surface.
Haven turned her attention to the game, trying to ignore the people all around. She scanned the field silently. A player was hit a few minutes into the first quarter and knocked onto his back. She winced. “Ouch.”
“He’s fine,” Dominic said dismissively. “Carmine’s tough.”
Her eyes darted back to the field. “That was him?”
“Yeah, the quarterback,” Dia said. “Whatever that means.”
Haven had no idea what it meant, either. Carmine climbed to his feet and started flexing his fingers, his white number ‘3’ jersey already smudged with grass and dirt. Her mouth suddenly felt dry as she gazed at it. So that was what the big black number on the shirt she wore meant.
“You don’t know shit about football, do you?” Dominic asked. “I can see it on your face.”
She smiled sheepishly. “No.”
Dominic rattled off the basics of the game, most of it still lost on her as she looked around at the rowdy crowd. “I didn’t realize so many girls liked football.”
“They don’t,” Dia said. “Heck, I don’t.”
Tess snorted. “The only balls most of these girls care about are the ones in Carmine’s pants.”
Haven’s brow furrowed. “They’re here for Carmine?”
“Some of them come to see him,” Dominic said. “He was a bit of a, uh… donnaiolo.”
“What does that mean?” Haven asked.
“A womanizer,” Dr. DeMarco said. “Not saying I agree with their assessment, but that’s what it means.”
The sound of his voice made Haven cringe. She’d nearly forgotten he was sitting here because of the commotion of the game.
Her attention went to the field once more. Carmine pulled off his helmet, his skin glowing with sweat. Someone threw him a towel, and he wiped his face before grabbing a bottle of water. Watching him, her breath hitched. She couldn’t help but wonder… was that why he gave her those strange feelings? Was that why her stomach bubbled? Was that just how he made all girls feel?
Carmine turned toward them, his eyes drifting in their direction. She might’ve been imagining it, but she could’ve sworn his gaze lingered on her.
* * * *
The rest of the game rushed by, the energy in the stadium making Haven’s skin tingle. People occasionally approached Dr. DeMarco and greeted him warmly. Not once did anyone inquire as to who she was, although a few times they politely said hello.
When the final whistle blew, everyone in the bleachers descended upon the field. Haven followed Dr. DeMarco and Dominic to the surrounding fence, her footsteps faltering on the outskirts of the crowd.
Dr. DeMarco paused. “Don’t move from this spot. Remember what I’ve told you.”
She nodded, the voice in her head screaming. He’s testing you.
Someone approached while she stood there. Their voice was unfamiliar, a southern drawl like none she’d ever heard before. “Lost?”
Haven swung around to see a boy with sun-kissed skin, his blond hair concealed under a baseball cap. He was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a blue shirt, and she was immediately drawn to his nearly bare feet. She smiled at them—he had on flip-flops.
Her own feet felt stifled. What she wouldn’t give to have a pair of those shoes.
“I’m not lost,” she said politely. “I’m waiting for someone.”
He nodded. “You must be new around here. I’m Nicholas.”
“Yes, I’m new.”
He raised his eyebrows when she said nothing else. “Do you have a name, new girl?”
“Haven.”
“So,” he said, drawing out the word. “Tell me something, Haven. What do you call a deer with no eyes?”
“Excuse me?”
“No eye-deer,” he said, grinning. “Get it? No idea.”
She smiled when she realized it was a joke.
“Ah, a smile! Much better!” He playfully squeezed her arm. Haven’s smile fell as he touched her, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”
See him around? She wasn’t so sure of that.
* * * *
Scanning the swarm of people, Carmine froze when his gaze fell upon Haven. Murderous rage shook him, his vision narrowing in on Nicholas Barlow beside her. He looked exactly how he had the last time Carmine saw him.
Carmine’s feet started moving on their own. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him and heard shouts as someone chased behind, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.
He leapt over the chain-linked fence separating them and landed on his feet as Nicholas and Haven heard the commotion. Confusion played in Haven's expression, while Nicholas just narrowed his eyes.
For as much as Carmine didn’t like the boy—and Carmine fucking despised him—Nicholas hated Carmine, too.
He backed up a few steps when he realized Carmine wasn’t going to stop, but it was too late. Carmine rammed into him, tackling him to the ground. His knee landed in Nicholas’s crotch, and Carmine drew back his fist to punch him, but someone snatched the back of his jersey before he could. He was yanked to his feet as Vincent got between them, shoving Carmine further away.
Nicholas looked shell-shocked as he got to his feet, and Carmine would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the look his father gave him. Fuming, Vincent fought to keep his composure in public. “You need to go calm down, son. Do you know what I went through to get you out of trouble last year? I’m not going to do it again. I mean it.”
He just stood there as his father stormed away, grabbing Haven’s wrist and pulling her in front of him. Tears streamed down her cheeks as they disappeared into the crowd, Carmine’s gut twisting.
He’d fucked up. Again.
* * * *
Homecoming the year before had been significantly different. Only a sophomore at the time, Carmine was just a spectator at the varsity football game. He’d sat in the stands, surrounded by his classmates, with his best friend, Nicholas Barlow, at his side.
Best friend. The words felt venomous to Carmine now.
While the circumstances had changed this year, Carmine had every intention of ending the night in precisely the same way: fucked up beyond belief. Only this time, he was alone.
Dozens of people packed the after-party when Carmine arrived, bodies crammed in the small house from one wall to the other. He slipped through the crowd on his way to the kitchen, where a wide receiver named Ethan handed him a fifth of vodka. “You look like you need this.”
Carmine took a big swig and laughed bitterly. “Is Max here yet?”
Max was a small time dealer, but anyone who lived in Durante got their drugs from him.
“Yeah, he’s here,” Ethan said. “Check the back room.”
Carmine nodded and took another drink of the vodka as he headed down the hallway. The room in the back was dark except for a small, dim lamp in the corner. People congregated there to smoke as the stereo played mellow rock music.
Everyone looked up when he entered. Max nodded in greeting.
“You got any blow?” Carmine asked, sitting down beside him. He rarely asked for anything hard like cocaine, but with the week he was having, he craved a major lift.
Max nodded. “How much do you want?”
“A gram.”
Max left the room, returning a few minutes later with a small baggy. Carmine poured some of the powder out onto the table in front of them, enough for two lines. He snorted one straight away, his nose numbi
ng as his heart raced.
Max eyed him peculiarly. “Bad day?”
“You could say that.”
Carmine snorted the second line, closing his eyes and leaning back against the couch. Euphoria coursed through his body, warmth starting in his chest and radiating out through his limbs. He felt lightweight, invincible, without a care in the world. He floated on air for a while, forgetting it all, and did another line when he felt himself coming down from the first two.
A little while later, Lisa plopped down on his lap. Carmine’s euphoria took an instant hit. “If you’re gonna sit on me, you ought to at least get naked first.”
Pushing her aside, he made two more lines and snorted them, desperate for the sensation back. Wiping his congested nose, he dumped the rest of the power onto the table and told Lisa to take it. She looked stunned as she inhaled it like a vacuum. He realized he’d never given her anything before. What the hell has gotten into me?
“I got you a tie for the dance,” she said, leaning back on the couch beside him. “It matches my dress.”
“What color is it?”
“Fandango.”
He glanced at her. “What the hell is fandango?”
“It’s kind of like fuchsia but darker.”
“So, what, purple or something?”
“Yeah, purple.”
He shrugged as he looked back away from her. He didn’t care what color it was as long as it wasn’t pink.
The night was a haze of alcohol and drugs, like a movie in fast forward that he couldn’t seem slow down. He drank, he smoked, and he snorted, and then he popped a few pills before doing it all over again. The cycle continued, round and round, until he finally passed out right where he lay.
Carmine woke up the next morning with the worst hangover of his life. His head pounded so hard his eyes pulsated, blurring his vision. Wincing, he staggered out of the house into the sunshine, putting on his sunglasses as he climbed into his car.
