STRIPPED

by Brooklyn Skye

  “No point,” Nikki says into my sleeve. “Tickets are hundreds of dollars. I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Your parents? Won’t they buy you a ticket?”

  “Business has been horrible this season. I can’t ask them to spend what little money they have to fly me all the way across country. Not to mention a train ticket to get from the airport up to South Barre.” She sniffs. “God this sucks.”

  “Nik,” I say as Torrin moves to the window and leans against the ledge. Beside him on my desk is the paycheck from Hunter. $459 and some change. Surely enough to buy a ticket to Vermont. “I have money. I’ll buy your ticket.”

  “No,” Nikki says and Torrin echoes her. She sits up, scooping her massive curls out of her face. “You need that for tuition. There’s no way you’re spending it on me and then leaving me for another school because you spent it on me. Absolutely not.”

  Slipping his phone from his pocket, Torrin clears his throat. “What airport do you want to fly into?”

  I meet his gaze. “What’re you doing?”

  “Buying your roommate a ticket.”

  No. “You can’t do that.”

  “Why?” the two of them say in unison. Nikki wipes her face with her pillow and pulls the blanket over her legs. I know what she’s thinking: if she can’t afford it and doesn’t want me to spend my earnings on her, then why not let someone else?

  “Because…” Torrin’s fingers stop moving. Slowly, his head lifts and his eyes, crinkled at the edges, peer at me in the same gentle way he did last night before we fell asleep and this— this—is exactly why. Because it’s one thing to do nice things for me like frame pictures of Zoe’s necklace and save me from cold ocean water and whisper in my ear words I don’t deserve, but being nice to my friends too? I take a breath. Hold it in. Let it out. “Because,” is all I say as I cross the room with my laptop.

  Nikki heaves out an exhausted sigh. “Quinn, don’t spend your money on me.”

  “You need to see your dad.”

  “But you have enough to pay for next quarter.”

  “True, but what’s going to happen in the fall? And the quarter after that?” I open up a browser, start an airline search. “The only way I can afford school is to quit and work fulltime…it’s inevitable I’ll have to move back home sometime so I might as well get it over with now.”

  Torrin settles his hand over mine. “I have the money. Just let me pay for it.”

  As if I didn’t feel like I owed him enough. Gently I remove his hand. “And I have issues with you paying so please stop offering and let me book a ticket.”

  ~*~

  I see Nikki off to catch her $279 flight into Burlington International Airport then take the bus downtown. After a three block trek south from where the bus drops me off, I enter the shoddy complex where Sal’s is located. Torrin, working the early shift today, doesn’t know I’m stopping by; we’re supposed to meet up tonight for dinner. Though, considering the look of disappointment I last saw on his face and the bitter taste it left me with, I need to see him sooner. Tell him the decision to pay for Nikki’s ticket had nothing to do with him personally.

  Behind the counter, Torrin’s got his hands around a large metal machine—a meat slicer by the looks of it—looking damn sexy in his red collared shirt. With the sound of the door he glances up then tips his head with a grin.

  “Must be doing something right.” He peels off his plastic gloves. “Not too long ago I couldn’t get you to stop running from me and now you’re showing up unexpectedly? What’s the occasion?”

  Past the cookie case and handful of orange plastic tables I sidle up to the counter, discretely taking him in. Blue apron tied around his waist. Hair falling over his raised eyebrow. Even the cheesy gray nametag pinned to his chest looks—

  My shoes squeak against the linoleum floor as I jerk to a stop. The room tilts. I look again at the nametag. His eyes follow mine down to those eight letters glinting under the sallow fluorescent light, growing wider and wider until, after what feels like a minute of the two of us staring at each other, he clears his expression, lifts his hand and hesitantly touches the name: KINGSLEY.

  “Kingsley?” I choke out, gripping the counter for support. Torrin nods and starts to open his mouth. “But…,” I say before he can manage and lift the metal dog tags from around my neck. Hastings.

  “Um… Andrew Hastings is my mom’s dad. Her maiden name.”

  I hold up my hand to block his words. It’s got to be a mistake. Maybe it’s a common name?

  “Don’t tell me you’re related to John Kingsley. The one who ass-fucked William Montgomery?”

  “That’s my dad.” He slides his hand through his hair. “But he didn’t—”

  “Fuck.” I can’t breathe. Still, I have to know: “You’re John Kingsley? The second?” Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. I will die if he says yes.

  “Technically. My middle name is Tor—”

  “Fuck!”

  “Quinn, stop shouting the word fuck. You’re making my brain hurt.” He eases around the counter.

  “Don’t come near me,” I say, stepping back.

  “Listen.” Hands out, palms up, he stops. “I wanted to tell you. Last week at Paco’s when I saw your name…but like you said it’s a common name.”

  Fire flares in my chest, my hands ball at my sides. “And after? Surely you researched it. Looked up my family on the Internet? Why didn’t you tell me then you were the one my dad lost his job over? It would’ve saved us a lot of trouble and grief and oh my god I slept with you!”

  This isn’t happening. A hot explosion bursts inside me and I charge toward him, fists out and punch him in the chest. “You said you loved me, you liar!” I punch him again. “After you ruined my family’s life!”

  He grabs my wrists. “Quinn, stop. I—”

  “No! Fuck you! Get your fucking hands off me!”

  “Why does it matter what happened between our dads?”

  My world jolts off its axis. I squirm and he lets me go. “It wasn’t between our dads! It was you! You did this! You’re the reason my parents are selling their house! You’re the reason I’m standing naked every day in front of strangers! You’re the reason my parents can’t afford my school tuition. And you’re the goddamn reason I’m going to finish my first year of college alone at the community college my dead sister is memorialized in!” I push past him mumbling, “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  The door slams behind me. My footsteps pound the asphalt. The next thing I know I’m on the bus, hiding my gasping and tears beneath a wall of hair.

  I’m not safe anywhere. Not at Pacific Rim. Not at Loyola. Not even at home where For Sale signs and whiskey bottles haunt me like the non-existent ghost of my sister. The bus lurches with the stop and the driver announces the exit, looking at me from beneath his Dodgers cap because I’m the only one in here.

  “I’m going further,” I say to him. “To Shadow Hills Cemetery.”

  “Alrighty.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Shadow Hills must be centuries old by the looks of the weathering and damage on the headstones. They stand crooked in places, like old friends leaning together. Like Dad and John Kingsley must’ve done at one time, back in their college years.

  Zoe’s gravesite sits over the hill, behind the older plots near the rear gate where an addition to the property was made a few years back. I wasn’t with my parents when they selected Zoe’s plot, but I imagine the cemetery staff gushing about the ocean view for an additional cost. Mom said it was an “idyllic plot in a charming location.” Not words she’d generally use, especially to describe a place where dead people hang out.

  I situate with folded legs over Zoe’s marker, right on top so I won’t have to look at the words I’ve memorized: Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so we can see life with a clearer view again. Mom’s message. She chose it for Zoe. Found it in the library, in some random quote journal.


  She never told me why. Maybe it was some private thing between her and Zoe. My sister cried a lot towards the end, after Evan broke up with her. Did Zoe not see life clearly? Was that what Mom was trying to tell her?

  “The world sure has a sick and twisted way of working,” I say to Zoe, plucking a blade of grass. I balance it on my fingertip, count to ten then blow it off. “I finally get past what you put me through and look what happens. I end up falling for the person I hate most. How’s that for shitty?”

  I wipe the tears from my eyes. Try to take a deep breath. Why can I still not breathe?

  Zoe rubs her eyes. She’s been crying. Again. It seems like that’s all she ever does now that Evan’s not in the picture.

  “Mom,” she says, her voice merely a whisper. “My migraine is getting worse. I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

  Mom pats Zoe’s knee and gets up from the couch. “Let me get you some warm milk.”

  “Can I have something stronger? One of your sleeping pills?”

  “If you were still here, Zo, you could tell me what to do. Because I have no clue.” I recline on the grass, extending my legs over the exact spot I remember her coffin lowering. My fingers grip the grass, tighter…tighter…the words ‘I kissed Evan’ stuck on my tongue. I know I should tell her, but I can’t.

  “Quinn, what the hell are you doing?” Evan says, pushing me back across the center console. Eyebrows furrowed, he glances out the windshield to our empty driveway.

  “I…” My cheeks burn and I quickly open the door. “I don’t know.” I just wanted to see what his lips felt like.

  “It’s hard to picture—Torrin doing it,” I say instead. “Lying to the school. Blaming Dad. How can he look at himself in the mirror? Knowing he’s a cheat and a liar and a fraud?”

  I can’t ever forgive the Kingsleys for what they’ve done to my family.

  In my pocket I find my phone. Two messages. I know who they’re from and, yet, I don’t have the stubbornness to delete them without listening first.

  “Quinn. Please call me. We need to talk. It’s not what you—” I erase the message before listening to the rest. Whatever Torrin has to say doesn’t matter.

  The next: “For the record. You lied too. But do you see me holding—” I cut him off again. He’s right. I lied too. Our entire relationship is based on lies. That should make it easier to get over him. Right?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “We need to talk.”

  Derek slides his hand over my shoulder and I brush him off. I am not in the mood for this right now.

  “No.”

  “Please—”

  “God, how stupid are you?” I whirl around, my voice echoing through the hall. “Do you not understand what fuck off means?”

  He blinks. Several people pass by and I don’t care who they are or what they’ll say about me. It’s not like I’m going to be at Loyola much longer anyway. Might as well go out with a bang.

  “Quinn, you reek. Have you been drinking tequila?”

  Of course I have. But I can’t discuss the half-empty bottle of Cuervo in my backpack because I have to focus on getting Derek off my back. I brace myself against the wall.

  “I never liked you, Derek. Never had feelings for you. I was using you.”

  “Using me?”

  “Yeah. ’Cause ya’know a funny thing happens when a guy treats you like shit over and over…” I stumble forward and lean close to his face. “Starts with the letter h.” He smells like smoke, which makes me gag.

  “Listen, I—”

  “Stop. Just stop!” I push off his chest and take a few steps back. “My sister killed herself over a guy and you were only around to remind me of that. So I wouldn’t make her goddamn mistake. There’s nothing between us. There never was and there never will be because I’m not stupid enough to slip up like she fucking did and you need to go, you need to leave me alone.”

  “Quinn, Mr. Bur—”

  I push him. “Shut up.” I turn for class and a second later the hall spins with me and I put my hand up and blink, like, ten times before the walls stop moving. I can still walk. I just need to hold onto something. So I guide myself using the wall. There. I’ve got it. Burk’s class is just up ahe—

  Something hits me. I look down. Drinking fountain. I laugh.

  “Where did that come from?” I snake around the fountain and the hall is starting to spin even more and I can walk straight. I can. I can. One foot, two. See…this isn’t so hard.

  Suddenly, everyone moves quicker and, whoa, I don’t like this. I hear people laughing at me and saying my name, but I don’t care. Because I am going out with a bang. I’m almost to Burk’s room. A few more—

  Someone bumps into my shoulder and I stagger…stagger…stagger. My legs give out and just before I hit the floor something jerks me back up.

  I hope it’s Burk.

  ~*~

  “You should eat something.”

  My mouth is so dry it feels like I swallowed a clump of sand. “Leave me alone.”

  “It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Go away.” I have no idea where I am or who I’m talking to. My head is hammering and I can’t think straight. I wish I could disappear.

  I slit my eyes and the room goes in and out of focus and as soon as I see the pack of cigarettes on the table beside me I know where I am and I wish I wasn’t here, but if I move I’ll throw up so I drape my arm over my face except my brain won’t sit still and it’s making me dizzy.

  I roll my head. Derek is standing over me, holding out a bag of Cheetos.

  “You should eat something,” he repeats. “To soak up the alcohol.” He sets the bag beside me and hands me a bottle of water and some aspirin. I sit up, take the water and pills and swallow them down. “Burk was coming,” he starts explaining; as if I asked. “I had to get you out of there or you would’ve been expelled—zero tolerance policy, remember? A few people saw you, but I don’t think they’ll say anything.”

  I give him a look. Of course they’ll say something. Did you see how wasted Quinn was?

  “Kennedy spent lunch in the dining hall spreading some rumor about Jared hooking up with some Psych instructor.”

  “Nice, Derek.” I rub my face. “Ruin someone else’s life. He could be kicked out.”

  “He won’t. And I’ll make it up to him later.” He sits beside me and I brace myself against the rollercoaster my stomach is riding. I take a chip and cautiously place it on my tongue.

  “Why’d you do it?” I ask. “Rescue me from Burk?”

  He snatches the pack of cigarettes from the table and taps one out. Then gives me an appraising look.

  “You mean after you lied to me, cheated on me, ignored me for a week and basically told me you hate me and that’s the only reason you’ve been with me?” His voice is low, calm. Not angry like I expect him to be. He raises the cigarette to his mouth and lights it.

  “See? I’m a horrible person. You really shouldn’t waste your time with me.”

  “You’re not. And believe it or not, despite all that shit, I still care about you.”

  My stomach lurches. “No you don’t.”

  He leans forward, close enough to hold my hand and then he does and I wish he’d let go. I wish he’d stop talking.

  “Quinn, I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend. I know I haven’t given you the attention you deserve.” He presses his cold fingertips to my cheek. “But…I’m going to change that.”

  “Quinn Montgomery to the office.”

  The voice comes over the loud speaker. Several students glance back at me and my face grows hot because they’re probably thinking I did something wrong, but I know I didn’t. I look to Mr. Dunn and he nods for me to go.

  “You’re going home,” Principal Mason says when I get to the office. She’s got this look on her face, like her cat just died or something. “Your dad will be here shortly. Go wait out front.”

  “Why?”

  “So
mething…I’m really sorr—” She shakes her head and her eyes start to glisten. I impatiently shift on my feet, wondering what would be so important that Dad would leave work to pick me up. “Something happened with your sister. She’s in the hospital.”

  Dad’s crying when he pulls up and I look at him and he looks at me and then he starts to cry even harder, pressing his fingers to my cheek.

  “Dad?”

  “Zoe…”

  “What happened?”

  He doesn’t answer and when we get to the hospital and are swallowed into the starkness of the white waiting room, I see Mom; she’s crying too. My eyes start to water even though I don’t know why and then a doctor comes out and he has this really sad look on his face and his gaze shifts around and then he says it:

  “We were too late. I’m sorry.”

  I’m in my room. I’m not sure how I got here and I don’t really care because, well, I just don’t care anymore.

  I find my phone and punch in a number. The line rings in my ear. Once. Twice. I swallow and clear my throat. A few more rings and Hunter says he’s unavailable and to leave a brief message. Brief is good. I shoot for brief, but end up sounding more like a trail of slow molasses.

  “Mr. Hunter…it’s Quinn…something’s come up and I’m not going to be able to come into work today.” I take a bottomless breath, put my fist to my pounding forehead. “Actually…I can’t come back at all…I’m sorry to leave you short of a model, but I’m going to be moving and…well, I hope this doesn’t trouble you too much. Thanks for your time. You’ve been a great boss.”

  I hang up the phone and my fingers run back and forth, bumping across the ridged lid of the plastic bottle in my hand. Inside, little white circles tick against the side, a mound of white avalanching just like my thoughts.

  Is this what it felt like for Zoe? Feeling like she just wanted to give up? That no life at all was better than a life without Evan?

  “I think you should tell her goodbye,” Mom says, rubbing my knee. “It’ll give you closure.”