by Megyn Ward
I jerk my hand out of her grip and turn to look at her. “Are you really this delusional, or are you just stupid?” I say it loud, drawing looks from people passing by on their way to class.
“I—” Jessica shakes her head, confusion clouding her expression. The bruise Henley planted on her face has faded to a yellowish green. Oddly enough, it brings out the blue in her eyes. “I thought we—”
“Whatever you thought, you’re wrong.” I’m getting louder, my voice bouncing down the hall. People are stopping in their tracks now. Openly staring at us. “There is no us. There is no we. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t exist.”
I expect her to cry. She doesn’t. She narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head like she can’t believe I’m actually saying what I’m saying. “You don’t mean that,” she says, reaching for my hand again.
“Um, yeah. I do mean it.” I jerk away from her and take a step back. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t text me. Don’t come to my house and don’t fucking touch me. Ever. Is that clear enough for you?”
She looks around at the people stalled in the hallway, gawking at us. “You know, your brother told me, but I didn’t believe him.” She glares at me, flicking her pale blonde hair over her shoulder.
Declan telling the truth? That’d be a first. “And what was that?”
“That you’re into dogs.” She sneers it at me, her mouth screwed up, tight and ugly.
Henley.
She’s talking about Henley.
I step into her before I can stop myself and whatever she sees on my face has her shrinking away like she’s afraid of me all of a sudden. “I don’t subscribe to most social constructs but the one I do hold myself to is that men shouldn’t hit women.” I push it through clenched teeth, my jaw so tight I can feel the click of each word against my eardrum.
Now she narrows her eyes at me. “Are you threatening me?” she says loudly, making sure everyone watching us can hear her. Making sure she does everything she can to solidify her role as the victim. Later, when she recounts this little after school special for her friends and whoever else is stupid enough to listen, there’ll be tears. She’ll tell people I put my hands on her. Hurt her somehow.
I don’t give a shit about that either.
“No, Jessica.” I shake my head, the corner of my mouth lifting in something too ugly to be considered a smile. “I’m telling you to count your blessings.”
She opens her mouth to say something but whatever it is, I don’t stick around to hear it.
Eight
Henley
Ryan’s right. If my mother knew about my suspension, she would’ve flipped out.
That’s why I didn’t tell her.
I got dressed and gathered my books like I was leaving for school, but once I got to there, I just kept walking. I went to the library and hid. Not in the Teen Reading Center, where I’d be easily seen. I went upstairs to the third-floor reference section and found a corner. Dug in and camped out until I heard Margo make her the library is closing in fifteen minutes announcement. Then I packed up and went home.
It was the best and worst three days of my life.
The best because for three whole days, no one knew where I was. No one bothered me. Made me feel bad for being me. Tried to make me something I’m not.
The worst because for three whole days, I didn’t see Conner. Not once.
I kept expecting him to look for me. Find me. He knows me better than anyone. He’d know where I was. He could’ve found me if he wanted to.
He didn’t.
It’s Wednesday it’s my first day back at school since what happened with Jessica in the library. I got dressed as usual, lagging a bit to make sure my mother left the apartment before I did. As soon as she was gone, I roused my dad.
“Dad…” I reach out and give his shoulder a tentative shake. He lashes out sometimes, has hit me more than once. Not like my mom—when she hits me it’s intentional and well-aimed—but rather like he’s drowning. Flailing around. Panicked. Coming up for air.
This time, he’s still, his bleary eyes opening slowly. Dull but sober. “What’s up, sweetpea?”
Sweetpea. He calls me that sometimes, when he’s sober. When he’s not soaked in cheap booze, drowning in the bitterness of his existence.
“I got in trouble at school.” I decide to tell him the truth. “I need a parent to sign this.” I thrust the paper at him, leaving out the part that if he doesn’t sign it, I can’t return to school.
He sits up, and instead of just taking the pen I’m offering and scrawling his name like I hoped, he lifts the paper close to his face and begins to read, his lips moving silently over the words. Assaulted a fellow student on school grounds. Refused to discuss incident with school staff. Your daughter received a three-day suspension for her part in the incident.
When he’s finished, he drops the paper and looks at me. “Who’d you hit?”
“Jessica Renfro.” I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he expects more. This is the part where I’m supposed to say I’m sorry. Make excuses. Promise it won’t happen again. I can’t do any of that, so I don’t. I just sit quietly.
“Okay…” He laughs a little at my silence, the sound of it scratchy and rough in his throat. “She get in trouble too?”
I feel my jaw clench. Even if I’d told the principal what happened, Jessica wouldn’t have gotten in trouble. Because she’s who she is and I’m who I am and that’s how the world works. “No.”
He looks at me, something close to regret skimming over his haggard features. I’ve seen pictures. Like Ryan, my father was handsome once. He was handsome and happy and had his whole life ahead of him.
And then he didn’t.
Finally he nods. “Did she deserve it?”
I look him in the eye. “Yes.”
“I believe it.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a quick quirk. “Her dad’s a total prick.” He takes the pen and signs the paper before handing both back to me. “Your mom know?”
I shake my head. He doesn’t say anything. I know I don’t have to worry about him telling her.
I fold it and stuff it into my back pocket. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You bet.” He reaches between the couch cushions and pulls out a pint of Canadian Mist. As soon as he spins off the cap, the sweet, cloying smell of cheap whiskey shoves itself up my nose, making me instantly nauseous. “have a good day, sweetpea,” he says, tipping the bottle toward his mouth, open and waiting.
If you loved me, you’d stop drinking. Ryan and I need you, Dad. We need you…
“I love you, Dad.” I barely get it out, my throat choked with anxiety and sadness and the sort of responsibility that can crush you flat beneath its weight if you let it. “I’ll see you later.” I give him a quick smile and an awkward wave around the stack of books in my arms to the man sitting on the couch, but I shouldn’t have bothered.
My dad was already gone.
I’d hoped that with three days to talk about it, everyone would’ve founds something else to talk about. No such luck. As soon as I hit campus, I feel a million eyes following me as I walk. Hear them whisper. Across the quad, I spot my brother, standing with a large group of his friends. Conner is there too, laughing and talking loudly, along with the rest of them. Jessica is there too, standing close enough to him to cause a clench in my gut.
“Hey, slugger.”
I look over to see Tess fall into step beside me. Seeing her makes me instantly feel better. So much so that I let her steer me to a stop under a tree.
“Hi.” I offer her a smile before flicking a quick glance at Conner over her shoulder. It’s only been a few days, but I feel like it’s been years since I saw him. Is it possible that he’s even more beautiful? More perfect? I tear my gaze away from him and focus on Tess. “Sorry, I haven’t been around.”
“Are you shitting me?” Tess rolls her eyes. “What you should be sorry for is that you didn’t let me in on the Jessica Renfro smack-down.” She g
rins up at me. “You’re a terrible friend.”
“I know…” I can’t stop looking at him, which is weird because I can’t seem to take a deep breath when I do. “Next time, I’ll send you an invite.”
“You better.” Her grin fades. “Was it bad? When your mom found out? Did she…” She lets her question trail off. She knows how my mom is. That she has a temper. Likes to take it out on me.
“I didn’t tell her.” Across the quad, I watch my brother high-five Conner, both of them laughing while, Jessica sidles closer, flipping her perfect blonde hair over her shoulder. “I hid at the library for three days and got my dad to sign my referral.”
Tess’s face splits into another wide grin. “Nice!” she crows, giving my delinquent behavior her stamp of approval, before following my gaze across the quad. As soon as she sees where my attention is aimed she sighs. “You should just go over there, Hen,” she says in a low voice. “He’d—”
“I broke up with him.”
When she doesn’t answer me, I look at her. She’s staring at me like I’m speaking in tongues. “It wasn’t going to work. I was fooling myself to think it would.”
“Did he finally try to fuck you?” Her cheeks flush, heating her olive skin with a rosy glow. “Did he—”
“No.” I shake my head at her. “I tried to.”
Tess’s eyes pop so wide for a second, I’m afraid they’re going to fall out of her head. “And?”
Please don’t make me do this, Henley.
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “He turned me down.”
“What?” Now her eyes narrow on my face like I’m not making any sense. “Why would he—”
“Because he doesn’t want me, Tess.” I think about what Jessica said to me that day in the library. The way Conner looked at me that night, like I was torturing him. “He never really liked me. He feels sorry for me—that’s all.”
“Bullshit.” She shakes her head at me, hands stacked on her hips. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, considering who I’m saying it about, but I saw the two of you together, remember? That boy is nuts about you.”
“He’s really not. Maybe he thought he was but then when it came to it he couldn’t go through with it.” I laugh a little, the sound of it sad and a little frustrated. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” I look away from her because I can’t look at her. While her flawless olive skin and long dark hair, Tess is beautiful. She’d have guys lined up around the block if she gave half a shit about attracting their attention. Being me is something she can never understand.
Like he’s a magnet I’m not strong enough to pull away from, I find Conner in the crowd, just in time to see Jessica slip her hand into his. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t stop his conversation, he just pulls away. Seeing his reaction to her shouldn’t make me happy. I broke up with him. I told him I didn’t want him anymore.
But it does.
And I do.
Just because he can’t stand Jessica doesn’t mean he loves you. It doesn’t mean he wants you.
Like he can feel me looking at him, Conner stops talking in mid-conversation, his gaze snapping into mine. He sees me. Caught me looking at him.
Shit.
He turns and starts walking toward me, leaving every one of his friends behind without so much as a backward glance. I can see Ryan behind him, watching him walk away. Jessica. All the popular kids. All confused by his abrupt departure. Wondering where’s going all of a sudden.
He’s coming straight at me. Pushing past people trying to stop him to talk, still looking right at me.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I’ll see you after school,” I tell Tess, hefting my books to my chest. “I have to get these turned into the books store before class starts.”
“What?” Tess looks at me like I’ve lost my mind before casting her glance around. When she sees Conner making his way toward me, she tries to grab my hand. “No you don’t. Just stay here and hear him out. Maybe he has a—”
I pull away, my books bobbling in my arms. Tightening my grip, I spin away from her and run because I can’t. I can’t stand here and wait for him. Not with everyone watching.
Jessica.
My brother.
The entire student body.
“Henley.”
He calls my name, loud but only once. I run away. I don’t stop. I don’t look back.
There’s no point.
There’s nothing left to say.
Seventeen
Conner
2009
Cenquinsexagintillion.
That’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last three hours.
Cenquinsexagintillion.
It’s a real number.
10500.
If super string theory is believed to be fact, it’s the number of proposed universes in what is called the multiverse. An infinite number of realities that stretch beyond the one we experience.
I like to think that in at least one of them, Henley and I are together. That she loves me as much as I love her. That she’s brave enough to let me.
It’s 2AM and I’m sitting on the fire escape outside her window. I’ve been here for a while, staring at the sheet she has tacked up to cover it. I can’t see her, which, while frustrating, makes it marginally easier for me to convince myself that I haven’t totally and completely crossed a line by creeping around outside her window like some sort of weirdo.
Today was the last day of school and Henley wasn’t there. The only class I bothered to show up for was calculus and when I finally accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to show, I walked out, Mr. Kitteridge shouting after me about an unexcused absence or some shit.
Whatever. I’m never coming back here. I’m through pretending. None of these people matter, anyway. Half the time, I’m not even sure they’re real.
I know that’s sound crazy. It’s been a while since I’ve slept. Honestly, what I do probably wouldn’t even be considered sleeping by most standards. I don’t sleep. I drift. Untether my brain and let it bob along a current of consciousness that never stops flowing.
When I really try, I can push myself deep enough to compete a REM cycle but to tell the truth, it takes so much effort that I’m usually more tired when I wake up then I was before I closed my eyes.
It used to freak my parents out. They took me to all sorts of doctors. Psychiatrists. Sleep specialists. Neurologists. Medication. Hypnosis. Therapy. They stopped just shy of a full-blown exorcism, until finally, they just gave up. Accepted the fact that I was never going to be normal like Declan. That I wasn’t going to be the son they’d hoped for.
I’m not saying they don’t love me. I know they do… but sometimes, when my dad looks at me, I get the feeling he’s afraid of me. Like I’m a stranger, living in his house, walking around in his child’s skin.
That’s why I pretend. Why I try to fit in. Not for myself. For them. So they won’t worry about me. Won’t be afraid of me.
I hear his footsteps, ringing on the ladder rungs below me, before I see him. I should get up. Climb the ladder to the roof and hide out until he’s inside. I should do that. I should care that he’s going to see me sitting outside his sister’s window, but I don’t. So, I just sit here and wait for him to appear because these days, there’s not much I do care about.
“You waiting for me?”
I look away from the window in front of me to see Ryan a few feet away. The dull glow of the streetlamp behind me casts shadows across his face but I can hear a hard edge to his tone that tells me he knows why I’m here, he’s just hoping I’ll lie about it.
“No.” I’m finished lying.
I expect him to come unglued. The implications are clear enough. Ryan isn’t stupid. He knows the truth. I’d be willing to bet he’s known for a while. Probably figured it out, even before my dickhead brother opened his big mouth, but until now, he’s been willing to go along with the lie because it’s easier than the alternative.
“We argued about Jessica,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “About how many girls I’ve been with.” When I say it, his lip curls slightly like I’m something dirty. Ryan knows what I am. Until now, he’s never had a problem with it, but I guess finding your whore of a best friend squatting outside your little sister’s window changes things.
“And?”
“And she broke-up with me.”
“Then why was she the one who was crying?”
I don’t have an answer for that. Not one I’m willing to share with her brother. “I don’t know.” I pass a hand over my face before shaking my head. “All I know is that it’s been almost a week and she won’t talk to me.”
“You try to fuck her?” He pushes the words through clenched teeth. This is what he’s worried about. That his best friend tried to hurt his sister. “Is that what this is about? You try—”
“No. No.” I shake my head, remembering the way she came at me. How angry she was when I told her no. Refused to take what she was offering. “I’m in love with her.”
“You’re in love with my sister? You?” Ryan laughs at me, like what I said is so far beyond ridiculous that it’s not even possible that I’m telling the truth. When I don’t answer him, he stops laughing. “Yeah, well tell me this—if you’re so in love with her, why the fuck were the two of you lying and sneaking around? Why not—”
“She didn’t want anyone to know we were together.” I still don’t understand why she insisted on lying. Why I’m supposed to be ashamed of her. “She made me promise.”
Ryan stares at me. Finally, he sighs, lifting a hand to rub it across his mouth. “Jesus Christ, she’s stubborn,” he says holding out a hand to help me up. “Just don’t give up on her, okay? Give her some time. She’ll come around.”
