First Loves: A Collection of Three YA Novels

by Jolene Perry

  “I told you everything. Everything.” His teeth are clenched and he steps closer, his breath coming hard and fast. “Why did you wait until you knew it would crush me to step on me like this?”

  “That’s not fair! I hid bruises! I didn’t talk to Mindy! I lied to my parents over and over!” That’s it. I need out. I start again to step around him, but he grabs my arm. I pull towards the door. “Let me go! Let me go!” I don’t care who hears right now. I need help. My free hand pushes against him.

  “Shut up!” His free arm backhands the side of my face so hard I fall to the floor. The ache from my face spreads and I blink, begging the black spots to disappear.

  Terror seizes my stomach, my chest, but I don’t have the strength to get up. I don’t know which way is up. What will happen if I pass out? What would he do to me?

  The door flies open. Dad has Shawn against the wall. His forearm presses against Shawn’s chest. I watch in a blur, still unsure of what’s happening. The room is spinning and I can’t make the blackness go away.

  “Ronnie, go home, now!” Dad’s voice is more forceful than I’ve ever heard it.

  I use Shawn’s bed to pull myself off the floor. The room jerks and tilts as I make my way to the door.

  Dad’s a good six inches taller than Shawn and has him pinned. Shawn’s eyes are on me and he’s breathing hard through clenched teeth.

  “Go, Ronnie.” Dad’s head doesn’t turn and he doesn’t move from where he has Shawn pinned.

  I stumble up the hallway, still dazed with blurry vision. The carpet feels like pillowy mush, and I’m not sure where to put my feet. My heart’s slowing, but it’s hard in my ears. My legs are shaking, quivering, like they belong to someone else.

  Diane’s standing near the front door with her hand over her mouth chanting softly, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

  I step past her into the darkness of the evening. Mom’s jogging up the street and takes me in her arms as soon as she reaches me. Nothing’s over. Nothing’s resolved. Everything’s just a mess. And I’ve made it that way.

  “Oh, honey,” she whispers as she holds my shaking body on the sidewalk.

  “Dad, he’s…” in Shawn’s room. Holding Shawn. Against the wall. Alien. Foreign.

  “Your dad’s fine. Let’s get home.”

  I walk with Mom’s arm around me, heart breaking, like pieces of me are being scattered along the sidewalk as we go.

  Dad has a broken Shawn against a wall in his house. Diane’s chanting a rhythmic apology she may not know how to stop. I’m in disbelief that one frustrated grab of my wrist has led to this disaster.

  As we step into the light of our entryway, Mom turns toward me and gasps. She holds her hands to her mouth. Just like Diane had a few moments ago. “Let’s get you some ice.” The first tear drops down her cheek. “You’re bleeding, sweetie.”

  Right. He had on his stupid watch. I stumble into our living room and sit. My head’s throbbing. Is Dad okay? Is Shawn okay? Mom murmurs into the phone in the kitchen.

  “I think we should take you in.” Mom hands me a bag of ice cream.

  “Ice cream?” I hold it in one hand, but I’m afraid to lift my head from the back of the couch. It feels like my skull is breaking, splitting apart, almost as broken as my heart.

  “Your face is swelling fast, honey. You need cold, but I was worried the ice would hurt.” Mom blinks a few times and more tears come down her cheeks.

  It must be bad, but I’m not thinking clearly. I let my eyes close. The cold feels good but she’s right, my temple and all around my eye is so sensitive I can barely rest the bag against my face.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” She pats my knee with her hand and disappears.

  I slide down further in the couch, but every movement sends throbs of pain through the side of my head making me dizzy and nauseated.

  Mom sits in front of me with a flashlight.

  “Where’s Dad?” I ask.

  She turns on the flashlight and starts shining it in my eyes.

  “He’s there until the cops arrive.”

  My heart sprints again. “Cops? Who called the cops?”

  “Diane.” Mom lets out a breath as the flashlight falls to her lap. “She called them on her home phone and dialed us from her cell at the same time.”

  “Oh.” My chest feels scratched, hollowed, emptied. All of this is so real. It was just a couple of frustrated evenings. That’s it. And now we’re talking cops, and my dad. My peaceful, mellow dad with his arm against Shawn, holding him to the wall. And me with a swelling face—a gift from the boy I loved since our first kiss in the woods.

  I miss Luke. He’s exactly what I need right now. Sensitive Luke with a bit of laughter on the edge of everything he says. But I screwed that up too. What’s left? A Ronnie who’s busted herself into pieces and let other people do the same.

  ~ 20 ~

  They actually do a CT scan at the hospital because my eyes are still dilating weird. Because of Shawn.

  I’ve definitely stepped into someone else’s life. It’s really the only explanation for my day. For the past month, or months. This isn’t me. Any moment I’ll wake up, realizing that this is all a big nightmare.

  Mom’s sharing my hospital bed. Her arm is around me when a female police officer comes into my room wearing the smile of a pediatric nurse. Her blonde hair is neatly pulled back into a ponytail, and even with her wide smile, her squared shoulders and straight spine hold authority.

  “Rhonda Bird?” She sits.

  “Yes,” Mom answers.

  “I’m Ronnie.” I hold the ice against the side of my face. “Where’s my dad?”

  “We took Shawn into custody just after you and your mom left. Your dad’s outside talking to another officer. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  And now this woman, this foreign person, is a guest in my hospital room. I’m still reeling that this is actually happening. No dream. She’s the one who’s about to ask me things I don’t want to talk about. Don’t want them to know. Don’t want Mom to know. I guess that’s silly. I talked with Dad. I’m sure Dad told Mom. But even with Dad I held things back. Do I hold the same things back now? Or do I tell her everything?

  She answers the question. “I need you to tell me everything, Ronnie.” Her bright blue eyes remind me of Mindy.

  Mindy. I know what she’d tell me to do. She’d tell me to say everything. So would Luke. “Do we have to do it now?” I ask.

  “It helps if I get your story right when the incident happened. Memories tend to gloss over things later on, especially in cases like this.” She’s still smiling, but there’s firmness in her voice. “You’re not in trouble here, Ronnie. We just want a clear picture of what happened.”

  My eyes flit to Mom. I’m not sure if I can get it all out with her here. The officer’s heart won’t break when I talk about what happened. Mom’s will.

  Mom’s arm tightens around me. “I’ll go. Your dad and I will be right outside, and I’ll see if we can go home soon.”

  I shift. The room spins. My head throbs.

  Mom stands up, heartbreak all over her face. Again, something I caused. She steps outside, closing the door slowly behind her.

  “Let’s get through this, okay? And then it sounds like you’ll be able to head for home.” Back to pediatric nurse smile.

  I pull the bag of ice from my face and her brows go up.

  “Let’s get pictures,” she says. “I also want you to take pictures tomorrow because you’ll look worse then.”

  Pictures, police, this is all so…dramatic. “What will happen to Shawn?”

  “He’ll get the help he needs, okay?” She pulls out a small camera and takes several pictures of my face, while I try to move as little as possible.

  “Are those from him, too?” She points to my wrist.

  I’d forgotten. I nod, sending shoots of pain through my face, down my neck and sends the room spinning again. Her camera flashes a
few more times and then she sits.

  “Can you tell me what happened tonight?”

  “It would be easier if I started at the beginning,” I say.

  “At the beginning?” She makes a quick note.

  “Yeah.” I close my eyes and, as I talk, I start tore-live all the things I shouldn’t have lived in the first place.

  I tell her even the stupid stuff, like the sneaking out, and the frustration, and the shoes. I’m rubbing my wrist when I talk about the first time he grabbed me. How shocked I was. She asks about Luke and how much he knew. He’d only kept quiet because he used to love me and I begged him. Tears start down my cheeks. They burn like fire on my left side where the ice has been keeping me numb.

  She makes an occasional note, but her recorder is running. There’s no taking it back now. I’m starting to understand the difference between embarrassment and humiliation. Embarrassment is toilet paper stuck to your shoe, or your zipper sliding down.

  Humiliation is feeling stupid, knowing things should have been different, knowing I had the power to make things different instead of landing us all in this surreal situation.

  No, not surreal. Again, alien, foreign. My dad’s form in my girly room is nothing compared to the alien-ness of this.

  “Wow, Ronnie.” She lets out a breath when I finish the details of this night. “You’re a very brave girl.”

  Her comment brings another wave of tears. If I were a brave girl, I’d have walked away from Shawn when he grabbed my wrist that first time. So many decisions each and every day were based on Shawn. What he wanted to do, what he wanted me to do, what he liked, what would make him happy. Where was I in all of that? Did I even have a place? Did he love me, or own me, or both?

  “Do you want your parents to come in now?”

  I don’t answer. There are no more words left in me.

  “If you think of anything else you let me know, okay?” She sets a card on the table. “I’ll give one to your mom, too.”

  I carefully press the melting ice to my face and wince as the plastic of the bag touches my skin.

  After six hours in the ER I’m so sick of sympathetic faces I could scream. They have decided I’m allowed to sleep, and Mom has a list of things to look for. I have a concussion. I’m dizzy. I’m warned I may be dizzy for days.

  My thoughts are thick, wooden, shallow and not making sense.

  Mom is crying and sympathetic. I know Dad well enough to know he’s using every shrink trick he learned to not be angry. I don’t think it works well. His jaw keeps flexing. I’ve broken their hearts, too. I’m on quite a wave of destruction.

  I float in a haze, not quite believing it’s all happening. Part of me thinks I’ll wake up in the morning, take a day off of school, and Luke will come and share movies and popcorn with me. All will be well. But that’s not at all how it will go.

  Shawn’s in jail for hitting me. Shawn’s dad is in jail for hitting his mom. Luke’s gone to live with the dad who left his family behind. It’s like I’m suddenly in a movie on the Hallmark channel. For the first time all night, I smile.

  Something touches my hand, and my eyes float up to see a nurse placing papers in my grasp. Is she talking? I let my eyes float down—it’s a packet for battered women. Battered. What am I supposed to do with this? That’s not me. Shawn’s different. He’s not like those guys. I’m definitely not like the girls who let someone walk all over them like that. No way. Shawn and I are different, special. Or, we were.

  Were.

  Grief for the loss of him, of what he had, grabs its claws into my chest and I drop the folder, scattering the papers across the floor.

  My body breaks into sobs, even though the pain cuts deep. Each shake brings another wave of dizziness. Dad sits and rests his hands on my calf. Mom tries to hug me, but I don’t want it. I want to fold my arms in and fold my legs and fold myself in until I’m a tidy, crisp white envelope. Perfect. Clean. Untouched.

  No more Shawn. No more trying to kiss away cherry shaved ice, or lying together in the backyard, his hand running up and down my back.

  Why couldn’t it be enough? Why wasn’t that enough for him? Why wasn’t I enough? And the boy I was enough for, I let walk away. My knees press into my chest as I lie on my side, clutching myself together underneath the worn, heated hospital blanket.

  My feet shake, my legs shake, my hands are like tissue paper. Each shake sends another wave of pain from the side of my head, but there’s no stopping it. There’s no stopping me from falling to pieces.

  A blurry Dad jumps up and leaves the room. A few moments later a nurse comes in and stands next to the IV I’ve been hooked up to since arriving.

  The shaking fades. My sobs have shaken all the parts loose they can for tonight. My body’s too heavy for any more thinking or feeling. Sleep is starting to take over and I can do nothing about it.

  ~ 21 ~

  Mindy’s in my room five minutes after the final bell at school has rung.

  “This is so crazy, Ronnie,” she says.

  “I know.” I’m still dizzy. Reclining on a sea of pillows is the only thing I seem to be able to do.

  “He’s really in jail?” She sits on the foot of my bed, slowly. Mom’s given her my dizzy warning.

  “Yep.”

  “For how long?” she asks.

  “No idea.” As awful as it is, I hope he’s there for a long time. Maybe if I don’t have to face him it’ll all just fade away, not be real.

  “Is it just me, or does this all feel like a Hallmark movie?”

  I giggle, just like that. “Definitely the movie.” I love that we’re close enough to have the same thoughts.

  “So, now what?” she asks.

  “Well, my grades are good enough that I only have finals in two classes. I’ll do them later this week, just before Christmas break.” Hopefully my brain has retained some of what I learned.

  “I know I said this already, but this is crazy. I mean, I don’t even know what to write in the book.”

  “I think, ‘Ronnie royally screwed up, landing one boy in jail and chasing the other off to live with his mostly-absent father’ should do it.”

  “I can’t believe Luke just left.” She pulls her knees up and uses them as a chin rest.

  “I believe it. Any normal, rational girl would have jumped into his arms, and I wanted to. Really, really wanted to, but I didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “No reason, and also a million reasons at the same time.” There’s just no words.

  “Are you going to write him?” she asks.

  “I get the distinct impression from his mom that I might want to give it some time.” Which sucks. And hurts.

  “I’d still write him.”

  “When my brain starts working right, I will.” But I’m not going to write him until I think I might be able to handle another rejection.

  “Paul and I are back together.” A sly smile pulls at the edges of her mouth.

  “Really?” I’m relieved to not be talking about me anymore.

  “I told him to think about what I said for a few days, about space, and he did, and he agrees. It’s really more of a trust issue than anything when you need each other every second.” She’s scraping out her fingernails.

  “So…” Is that it?

  “So, we’re kind of starting over. A date here and there, or whatever.” She shrugs.

  “And that’ll work?”

  “I don’t know, but I like him, so I hope it does. If it doesn’t…I mean, that sucks, but it is what it is. I don’t want more. Not now.” And I can see it on her face, it would suck, but she’ll do it. Split it off for her independence.

  I’m amazed she can be so relaxed about it. How isn’t he everything?

  ~ ~ ~

  “Dad.” I stop with my fork poised over my plate, every piece of me tenses in repulsion over the idea. “I do not need to go to some group thing with a bunch of abused women!”

  He slumps, and lets out a sigh a
s his eyes catch mine across the table. “Ronnie. You may not think you belong there, and that’s fine. But this is not something we’re negotiating.”

  I roll my eyes. “This all seems way overboard.”

  “Sorry. Non-negotiable.” He takes another bite of food. How can he be eating right now?

  I lean back in my chair, dinner forgotten. I’ll have to talk to Mom tomorrow.

  “I see that look.” He points at me. “Your mom and I have talked. It’s done.”

  I wonder if he’ll realize that all he’s doing is making new ways to torture me when I’ve done a pretty stellar job all on my own.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ben comes home for Christmas. My situation with Shawn isn’t discussed, but I know Mom and Dad have talked to him about it, because he never asks about the huge bruise covering the side of my face.

  Right now, I just hope it’s almost gone before I have to go back to school.

  ~ ~ ~

  Three days before school is my first group session. I use half a bottle of concealer to cover my bruise, and then I take Dad’s car because it’s nicer, drinks more gas, and has a better stereo. If they’re going to make me go, I’m going to enjoy at least part of it. I enjoy the loud music, and I enjoy using more of their money for fuel than necessary.

  I step into the community building. I hate that I don’t know where I’m going, and can’t walk right to my class. I walk slowly so I can see as much as possible without stopping.

  The sign is large and I barely need to pause.

  Women’s group. Room 114.

  At least it doesn’t say – Stupid Pathetic Pushover Women, meet here.

  I’m mad I have to be here, and wonder how Dad would know if I didn’t go…I almost stop in the hallway.

  Crap. I can’t do it. He’d probably just know, anyway.

  Room 114 is easy enough to find. Do I just walk in? It’s not like I could bring a friend, or something. Even though Mindy probably would come with me. No need for two of us to have to go through this humiliation.

  I’m the third one in the room. There’s a woman, probably in her thirties, talking with a girl who I’d guess is just a little older than me. I didn’t expect to see people my age in here. They both smile as I step in. I’m not sure if I smile back or not. Again, this doesn’t feel like it could be real. The seats are in a big circle, of course, no corners for Ronnie. Not today.