by Jordan Ford
Why can’t I escape this?
I’m trying so hard to turn over a new leaf. Be someone likable.
The way I felt around Mack—that’s who I want to be.
How could he shit all over it like that?
All those sweet words, the way his eyes would soften when he traced his finger down my cheek. The hours we spent talking and laughing together. The stories he told me. The way he let me in. I can’t believe he could let it all go so easily. Unless it’d been fake right from the start. Some way to punish me for dissing him that first day.
The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced Layla put him up to it. Roxy and Michelle were probably involved too. Bitches.
I can’t imagine Tori having anything to do with it, but she is dating a jock, so who the hell knows.
The cool, popular crowd sucks!
I should have known better.
People are the same the world over. The crowd I belong with is not one I want to be a part of.
So where does that leave me?
A piece of driftwood floating in an unforgiving ocean that’s never going to let me forget.
I nearly killed Eloise Cochran…and I’m going to pay for it for the rest of my life.
#29:
Empty And Silent
Mack
I sat on the Fosters’ front step until my butt went numb. Kaija never showed.
I ditched school and spent the rest of the day driving to all the spots in Nelson where Kaija and I spent time together. She wasn’t at any of them.
Pushing my front door open, I thump up the stairs to my room. A small hope that maybe she’s on my bed makes me hustle, but when I burst through the door, all I find is an empty, silent room.
It’s the mirror of my heart right now.
Empty.
Silent.
How could she assume it was me?
All the time we spent together and the hours we talked. She thought it was all bullshit. Some cruel con so I could demolish her so publicly.
I’m insulted…wounded…aching.
Snatching Dad’s football off the window seat, I hug it to my chest and slump onto my bed. I wish he were here right now. He’d have something intelligent to say, something insightful that would help me solve this hideous mess.
I sigh and shake my head, my frown so deep it’s giving me a headache. My chest hurts.
This probably seems dramatic, but how I feel right now is almost worse than when Dad died. We had time to adjust to his parting. It still sucked, and standing in the church for his funeral was the most numbing experience of my life. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want to think. I just stood with one arm around Layla and one around my mom. They were both whimpering and crying. I was the only one who managed to keep it together. I had to. I was the only man in the family, and I had to protect the ones left behind.
I may have only been thirteen, but I took that job seriously. When Martin came along a couple of years later, I backed off my mom, but Layla was still my responsibility and it kept me going.
And then Kaija arrived, and for the first time since that funeral I found something that I wanted for me. And it felt…liberating. Kaija was mine. I was hers. We had this happy bubble moment.
Now that bubble’s popped.
And I don’t know what to do.
“Hey.” Layla’s soft voice makes me jerk. I glance up to see her standing in my doorway. Her long hair is up in a high ponytail, the dark locks resting on her shoulder. The hoop earrings in each lobe are massive and they swing slightly when she lowers her bag to the floor and approaches me.
Her heeled boots sink into the carpet. I keep my eyes on them, unable to look at her face.
I wait until she’s standing right beside me before quietly asking, “Was it you?”
As much as I wanted to reject the thought, I couldn’t. It’d been festering all day. Logically, my sister was the only one who could have had any inkling of Kaija’s past. I’d said something to her the night we drove to the mall, about Kaija understanding us. Layla isn’t stupid. That one comment would have gotten her thinking.
Dammit! That made me responsible too! I should have kept my stupid mouth shut.
Layla bobs down in front of me so I’m forced to look at her face. Her nails are sharp as she squeezes my knee. “Of course it wasn’t me.”
Her voice is calm and soft. The fact that she’s acting so gently probably means she can sense my raw torment. Her dark eyes swirl with a mix of emotions—they always do. I spot the slight insult at being accused, but I also see her worry for me. My sister may act like a self-absorbed brat sometimes, but she loves me…and I’m grateful for that.
“Those posters were cruel.” She sighs and brushes a loose strand of hair off her cheek. “I may act like a bitch sometimes, but I’d never go that far.”
“So, who would?”
“I don’t know.” Her earrings swing as she shakes her head. “I tried to ask around today, but the squad are all just as surprised as I am. We thought Kaija was a library geek. We had no idea she was capable of being that nasty. I thought she was just another Tori, trying to steal one of our guys.”
I squeeze my eyes with a sharp huff. “Tori’s not stealing Colt. Geez, Layla. They like each other. Can’t you girls see that?”
“Yeah, we see it.” Layla frowns. “How do you think it makes us feel? We put ourselves out there for you guys all the time. You party with us, make out with us, have sex with us…but you never fall in love with us. Tori is so quirky and weird, and she’s scored one of the hottest guys on the team. And not just scored, they… He acts like he’s in love with her.” A sad frown wrinkles her perfect features as she takes a seat beside me. The mattress dips a little. She leans her head against my shoulder, her voice quivering a little. “Just like you act as though you’re in love with Kaija.”
“I am,” I croak.
Layla pulls in a shaky breath. “How? She’s… You’ve only known each other for such a short time.”
“I don’t know how.” A smile crests my lips as I think about Kaija’s eyes and the way they caught me that day in the gym. “She just… She captured me.”
“And you captured her,” Layla whispers.
“Not really.” I blow out a breath. “If I had, she wouldn’t be accusing me of doing something so cruel. She’d be answering my calls, she’d be letting me comfort her.”
I bunch my mouth to stop my lips from shaking.
Layla sits back and rubs her hand across my shoulders. “We’ll find out who did this, Mack. We’ll make it right.”
Running a hand through my hair, I dip my head and mutter, “Whoever did this is gonna have hell to pay.”
Anger fires back through me, sharp and energetic. I hold onto it, liking the heat and intensity. It’s easier to cope with than the simmering sadness that’s trying to debilitate me.
I sit tall, trying to regain my strength, to put on the brave face I’m so good at showing. But it doesn’t stop the whisper in the back of my mind.
Finding the culprit won’t bring Kaija back to me…just like playing football never resurrected my dad.
#30:
H.O.M.E.
Kaija
The plane touches down in Auckland at 7.48 am on Wednesday morning. It’s still Tuesday in Nelson, Idaho. I glance at my watch, wondering what Mack’s doing. I can’t remember what subject he’s in on a Tuesday morning. If he’s feeling anything like me, it won’t matter. Concentrating on anything but the ache in my chest is basically impossible.
I hate that I’m thinking about him.
I want to burn him from my brain, but my heart just keeps wandering back. I miss him. I should want to curse him to a lifetime of torment. Why can’t I do that?
The plane taxis to the terminal while I swallow down the idea that maybe, deep down, I know he’s not responsible. You know what, I don’t even care who is. It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything. Mack and I could have never lasted. We were living in
a fantasy, and rather than having a bittersweet ending we got the cruel, cut-your-heart-out version.
Pressing my head back against the seat, I rub my burning eyes. I haven’t slept since waking on Monday morning. Trying to get comfortable on a plane is impossible. I managed to doze off a couple of times, but only for a few minutes. My body was still wired and buzzing from my impulsive travel arrangements. Once I reached LA, I had to transfer to the international terminal with all my bags. I lugged them up to the Air New Zealand counter and begged for a ticket. They had to put me on standby. I was gearing up for an overnighter in the airport when last minute they let me onto the 9.45 pm flight. Having fought tears all day, I finally let them loose. They came out of me in an ugly sob that made the poor Air New Zealand worker flinch away from me. He gave me a confused smile, then awkwardly patted my back and led me to the security check. I only just made the flight.
By the time I finally buckled my seatbelt, I was a total stress-bucket. It took me well after midnight before I even started to unwind. But I never slept.
That’s all I want to do now.
Sleep.
Forget.
Pretend it never happened.
“Once again, folks, welcome to Auckland. Please wait until the seatbelt sign has been turned off before collecting your things and disembarking from the plane. We hope you had a pleasant flight. Air New Zealand thanks you for using our service.”
How the flight attendant still sounds so chipper after a thirteen-hour flight, I’m not sure. I’d be ready to tear someone’s head off. Flying sucks.
Tugging my carry-on bag out from under the seat in front of me, I hug it to my chest. Mum and Dad will be waiting for me at the arrivals gate. My lips wobble as I picture them. I’m bound to fall completely apart as soon as they wrap their arms around me. Dad’s hugs are a sure-fire way to get me crying. He’s so strong and protective…just like Mack.
You know you’re past the ‘Daddy’s little girl’ stage when you’d rather some other gorgeous guy hold you close while you snot and cry all over them. But here’s the big difference—I trust my dad to never hurt me.
I can’t feel the same about Mack anymore. That small voice inside just isn’t loud enough. All I can do now is move forward and forget about my time at Nelson High.
*****
Dad’s arms are strong and secure around me. I let the tears fall. I’m past the ugly sob stage now and have reverted to the silent tears that are supposed to cleanse the pain.
They don’t.
I’m still raw inside, like someone’s ground my innards with a grater.
“This is such a surprise.” Mum rubs the part of my back she can access.
I curl my fingers into Dad’s T-shirt and murmur, “I missed you guys.”
“We missed you too, Jellybean.” Dad kisses the top of my head, then pulls back to grin down at me. “Come on, let’s stop those tears, eh? Time to get you home.”
I nod, slashing at my waterworks and forcing a quivering smile.
Mum’s hazel eyes flicker with worry. In an attempt to ward off a long-winded interrogation, I wrap my arm around her waist and kiss her cheek. “It feels good to be home.”
It doesn’t, but I hope it sounds genuine enough.
The words bring a smile to her lips. “Good to have you back, baby girl.”
Dad pushes the trolley for me and we head out to the vast parking lot. The vibrant buzz of comings and goings whirl around us. I watch people’s faces—their smiles, both sad and excited—while Dad pays for the parking ticket.
Mum’s still got her arm around me, no doubt keeping me close in fear that I might change my mind and leave her again. Her lips keep bunching, which is a sure sign she wants to ask me why I split so early.
“I’m glad I made this move,” I lie. “It feels good to get back with enough time to prepare for school. The pressure was getting a bit too much for me and I just really needed to get home. I want a little break before school starts again.”
“That’s what I said to you.” Mum nods. “Although, you probably could have told the Fosters in a nicer way. I don’t think they appreciated the sudden departure.”
“I know.” I shrug. “It was selfish, but I just didn’t want them to think I couldn’t handle it and I knew if I tried to explain, they’d convince me to stay. I had to do what was right for me.”
“True, my girl. I’m proud of you.”
You shouldn’t be.
That’s what I want to say, but I don’t. There’s only a few people left in my life who still look at me like I’m not the spawn of Satan…or a murdering slut, as someone put it.
Anger fires through me—cold and blue. With such a hot, intensive flame, you’d think it would stick around, but the sick sadness roiling through me puts a swift end to the emotion. I’m too tired to feel angry. I think I’ll just skip ahead to despair. Not sure I’ll ever make it to acceptance though.
Why should I?
I don’t deserve it.
That comic strip may have been horrible, but it’s the truth. I did taunt someone to the point of wanting to kill herself. I tried to run, but even Nelson, Idaho wasn’t far enough to get away from my transgressions.
“Your friends will be pleased to see you back.” Dad grins as he slides the ticket into his pocket and starts pushing the trolley again. “They’ve been asking after you.”
I’m sure they have.
I let go of Mum so she won’t feel the tension in my muscles. She doesn’t let on that she’s noticed, just gives me one of those motherly grins and chides Dad, “Let her get some sleep and recover first. She can catch up with her friends when she doesn’t feel so much like a zombie.”
I’ll try to stretch that excuse out. It takes at least a week or two to recover from jet lag, right? That’ll bring me up to a week before school goes back.
School.
Going back.
Shit!
Mum tucks a lock of hair behind my ear before rubbing my shoulders and letting out a giddy chuckle. “It’s so good to have you home.”
I force a smile and nod, my mind reeling with images of my first day back at Macleans College.
As I follow Dad to our car, I realize that no matter how much I want to hide away, I can’t. What I did will always be there…and no matter who I meet or where I end up, I can never erase the girl I once was. As much as I wanted Nelson High to redefine me, I still have no idea who I am, or who I’m meant to be. Hanging with the wrong crowd didn’t work. My very first week I was drawn to Mack, and I couldn’t resist him no matter how hard I tried.
So where does that leave me?
I’m returning to the one place I want to escape and I’m somehow supposed to navigate it. I can’t just fall back in with my old crowd. For one, I don’t want to get caught up like that again and two, there’s a strong chance there’s no longer a place for me. I’m the girl the rumors are about. I’m the wicked one. The girl who took it too far.
If anything, I’ll be returning with a target on my chest and no Mack to protect me.
He couldn’t protect me at Nelson High, so why do I think he can do it here?
Because I want him to.
Because it’s been less than 48 hours and I already ache for him.
Yes! Even in spite of the fact that he may have tried to ruin me, I miss him. I miss the way I felt when we were together. The way he smiled at me. How he made it so easy to talk to him. I miss the feel of his fingers skimming my cheekbone and his lips pressing against mine. The way his arms wrapped around me and held me close…
What we had was short and fleeting.
But man, it was precious. I’m never going to get it again.
All that awaits me now is a suck-fest year.
Tears burn my eyes and tingle in my nose. I can’t let them show. I have to keep it in or Mum and Dad will want the whole story, in every ugly detail.
Dad opens the car door for me. I slip into the back seat and buckle up, preparing myself for home. A
… Harrowing. Open-slather. Macleans will kill me. Experience.
#31:
Who Dunnit?
Mack
“Come on, Sammy. I need you to do this for me.” I have her boxed in against the outside gymnasium wall. The afternoon sun has crested over the building and huge shadows cover the out-of-sight space we’re standing in. The snow hasn’t yet melted in the shady spot, and it crunches under my boots as I lean in further and really get in her face.
Her sharp eyes narrow. “Back off. I’m not snooping around the Fosters’ place, you asshole.”
“You live right next door to them.”
She shoves at my shoulders, but I don’t budge. “I don’t care where I live! I’m not breaking and entering so you can go accusing them of chasing your girlfriend off.”
“There’s got to be proof in their place. She was living in their spare room, maybe one of them stumbled across something. I’ve got to find some kind of evidence.”
“No, man. You don’t. It’s been three weeks. You need to let this go.”
I smack my hand into the wall above her head. “I’m not letting this go.”
“Move out of my space or I’m gonna hurt you.” Her thin eyebrows arch high.
I ignore her request, clenching my jaw and glaring at her. “Dana looks nervous every time I talk to her. She knows something.”
“Everyone looks nervous when you talk to them! You’re acting like the freaking Gestapo! You are aware that you are managing to alienate everyone in this school, right?”
“I’m just trying to find the truth!” I thunder.
“Don’t be yelling in my face. Whether you like it or not, your little girlfriend did something bad. Now, I’m sorry that she was exposed the way she was, but if it were me, I would have owned that shit, apologized, and moved on. She ran. That was her choice, and you need to let her do that. Turning this place into Guantanamo is not helping you!”
