Lost Cause

by Callie Sparks

  “I have nothing, really, to say to you,” I mumble, trying to keep my voice sweet and even.

  “Ari, I’m trying to apologize.” She looks at my parents. My father, especially. She’s always acted extra-angelic around him.

  I wave them over to the car. As the three of them trail away toward the parking lot, my mother hooks an arm through Noah’s and starts to say something to him. I murmur to Claire, “Apology accepted.” It doesn’t matter, anyway.

  Claire says, “I’m glad that Noah’s back.”

  I have no patience for small talk. “Yeah, me too. I’ve got to get home.”

  She reaches for me, then thinks better of it and stops. “Okay. But Ari. I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. It just happened. Stress and boredom and beer are a lethal combination. “

  “I don’t care. Gabe and I are over, anyway,” I tell her, and the moment I look back at Noah, I know it’s true. Noah’s right. If he hadn’t come back into my life, I would’ve pathetically gone back to Gabe and tried to convince myself it was right. But it never was. More often than not, being with Gabe was uncomfortable, like trying to stretch into a sweater that never fit. It wouldn’t be long before he made me feel miserable again.

  Noah saved me.

  Just being here, he’s saving me.

  She gives me a pouty look. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m really not. I mean, this proved to me without a doubt what kind of a person he is.” What kind of person you are. Which reminds me, what am I doing talking to her? I look toward the Mercedes, where Noah is still staring, his scowl as intense as ever. I start to back away, toward the car.

  “So what? You haven’t even tried to talk to him?”

  “There’s no point. There’s nothing he can say that will make me change my mind.”

  “I’m sure he’s sorry, though. He—“

  “He says he is. At least, that’s what the two-thousand texts he’s sent me say.” I shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

  She seems surprised, probably because Gabe never tried that hard for anything in his life. After all, in school, people just bowed before them, yielded to their wishes. But this is one wish he’s not getting. “Oh,” she murmurs. “Well—“

  “Look, I’ve got to go,” I say, shuffling down the path.

  I don’t look back; Noah’s standing in the middle of the path, hands in the pockets of his dress pants, giving her enough dirty looks for both of us. I can’t explain how happy he makes me, just by being there. I stop in front of him and say, “Turn that frown upside down.”

  That makes him grin. He says, “She’s a sack of shit.” Then he looks at my parents, and lowers his voice, even though they’re out of earshot. “Sorry. Did she apologize?”

  “She did, but it doesn’t matter. I mean, she’s out of my life. The most I see her is in church, whenever she’s feeling holy.” I go to pull open the door first, but he beats me to it and opens it first. I nod a thank you. “I’m fine without her.”

  I go to sit in the car, but before I can, he says, “And Gabe?”

  “I’m fine without him, too.” He’s doing that extra-close study that he does to see if I’m telling the truth, so I say, “Really.”

  And this time it’s the truth. He can read it, just like he reads everything written on my face. He nods, satisfied.

  I slide into the back seat. He makes sure I’m situated and closes the door, then comes around and slides in next to me. His lips part and he murmurs something very softly. I’m pretty sure it’s, “That’s my girl.”

  His girl. If any other guy said it, I’d probably be furious. But he’s right. That’s who I am. I smile. That’s who I’ve always been.

  #

  That Monday, I walked to the bus stop for school, alone for the first time. As I did, I cast nervous glances toward Noah’s house. I’d tried peeking in the windows, but there wasn’t much to be seen. I’d looked out the window for him, but at night, the home was completely dark. I couldn’t remember a time it had been so dark; Noah’s parents usually left the porch light on, but even that was out.

  An odd feeling had begun to settle over me as I climbed the bus to school. I thought about Noah the whole time. Our kiss was still fresh in my mind, as was the trembling heat of his body, the way he’d gently guided my hand into his bathing trunks. I wondered if even Claire had gotten that far. I wondered, if I’d allowed it to continue, what it would’ve felt like, what would’ve happened . . .

  At school, Claire’s party was the talk of the classroom, as usual. People crowded around her desk, calling it the best party of the summer and fawning over her so they could be assured an invitation to the next one. As I came in, every head swung toward me. “Hey, Whore!” Claire said, motioning me over.

  She looked for my shadow, Noah. I usually came in first, and he’d come after me.

  Claire leaned forward and said, “So, where’s your stud?”

  I shrugged like I didn’t know.

  She smiled. “So tell us all again. What was it like?”

  I said, “Oh, well. You know,” all nonchalant, like it was something I did all the time.

  Mari made a disgusted look. “You couldn’t pay me to go in there with Noah Templeton.”

  Some of the girls started to agree. I began to blush.

  Claire said, “Oh, stop, Mar. I think Noah’s kind of cute. He’s got lots of untapped potential. He just needed a goddess like Ari to unleash it. Right Ari?” She nudged me.

  I nodded. Mrs. Matthews came in and they all started to disperse. Claire grabbed my hand and dipped low to my ear. “I hope you don’t hate me for what I did. I thought you two could use it.”

  I shook my head and forced a smile. “No. It’s all right.”

  “Oh, good!” She smiled. “So where is Noah?”

  “I guess he’s sick. I don’t know.”

  “Lovesick, probably. So I’m afraid my news is going to break his fragile little heart.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “What news?”

  “Gabe asked me about you!” She whispered. “He wanted to know your story.”

  My jaw dropped. “What did you tell him?”

  She grinned. “I told him that if he wanted to know that, he needed to ask you himself.”

  Chapter sixteen

  So what happened?

  I don’t know. Nothing much, until early Spring, maybe. We’d gotten through the winter and now the hotter days were coming, which I was dreading, considering dumbass that I was, I was still doing most of Annie’s work in addition to mine. Once I got used to it and knew John was happy and wouldn’t kick us out, I didn’t mind. I mean, I would’ve liked the help, but I liked having something to keep my mind off home. Those first few months, I’d start at dawn and collapse into bed at dark, slept like a log.

  Everyone worked that hard?

  Oh, no. The rest of them—they took life easier. I knew they’d have parties where they’d get high and wasted. They knew me as the workhorse. That’s what they called me. They’d sit around smoking their joints and watch me working. The women would giggle and say, “You sure have a very nice workhorse, there, Annie.” It was like a joke.

  Did you find it funny?

  I didn’t mind. But I was naïve, like I said. We didn’t have air conditioning so all of us would just sleep in as little clothing as possible. Looking back, we were all in such close quarters—I knew things were going on that weren’t quite right, but I tried my best to ignore them. I woke up one night to a blow job. Someone was kissing my chest at the same time. They whispered to me to relax. It was Annie and Crystal.

  What did you think then?

  That I was dreaming, at first.

  You had sex with both of them?

  Yeah.

  And then . . . ?

  Then . . . nothing. Well, apparently that’s where they were all the time—they were lovers—they’d been lovers before Annie met my dad and settled down to the “white picket fence lifestyle” she’d thought she wanted.


  The one she’d thrown away.

  Yeah. She told me she hadn’t come here hoping to rekindle things with Crystal, but that it just happened. Annie told me she loved me, too, and that they wanted me to be a part of their relationship.

  And you were okay with that?

  No. I told her I didn’t like it. That I thought she and I were exclusive. That’s what I wanted. She laughed and called me a baby, told me I needed to grow up. She said that she had a part of her heart that was exclusively mine, and that should be enough.

  Was it ever?

  No. I felt used and alone and told her I wanted to leave. But I was not even fourteen. I was trapped, I guess. I mean, I knew what other guys would say. We had a pretty young teacher in sixth grade and all the guys in the class talked about getting with her. So having a threesome with two former models? Boo fucking hoo. But . . . it’s because of that that I knew I couldn’t tell anyone, because no one would take the way I felt seriously. So that continued on for a while. Then they invited Tristan.

  Tristan?

  Yeah. He was Crystal’s boyfriend.

  And they made you join in with him?

  Yeah. At that point things had gone too far, and I wanted out. I wanted to tell someone, but there was no one. I was so naïve that it took me a while to realize that this was what was going on—all over the commune. They’d retreat into their dark apartments and fuck with wild abandon. Anyone. It didn’t matter. The orgies lasted all night, most times, while the kids were asleep. That’s the kind of place it was.

  You started to take part in them?

  Against my will, at first, yes.

  And how did that feel, to you?

  Like nothing. After a few months, I was dead inside. And then I had no will.

  #

  By the time I get changed out of my dress and into my cutoffs, the street outside is swarming with cars. They pull up into Noah’s long driveway, honking cheerfully. When the people get out, I cringe. It’s a bunch of do-gooders from my dad’s church. Mostly older, retired people, and a few soccer moms with casseroles and coolers and dads with tool belts. All he has to do is snap his fingers, and they jump.

  This is going to be a regular hoot, I think, wondering if they think it’ll get them in the short-line in front of the pearly gates.

  I scuff my feet into my flip flops, fly out the door and through the line of woods between our properties. Noah is standing in the opening of the garage, leaning against the front of his truck, watching them. He has on those gym shorts and work boots again, and again, no shirt.

  I sigh. That boy is going to be the death of me.

  “My father may have invited one or two . . . hundred friends over to help fix up your house.”

  He’s chewing on his thumbnail. He rubs the scruff on his chin with his other hand. “So it seems. Damn.”

  “They brought food, at least. Have you tried Mrs. Lancaster’s cheesy noodle casserole? To die for,” I say, grinning as I sit on the shiny bumper of his truck, and together we watch them marching up to do battle with Noah’s house.

  “I like noodles.” He reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out a cigarette, then looks at me and tucks it back in. He leans against the frame of the garage door. “Did your dad promise them eternal salvation if they’d help?”

  I know what he means. They all look so freaking eager.

  “They do know it’s me, right? The devil incarnate?”

  I stand up and punch him. “You’re not the devil. Stop it.”

  He smiles shyly to welcome all of them, and he’s embarrassed, because he ends up pushing the front door before he’s fully twisted the knob to open it and nearly breaks his nose, crashing face first into the leaded glass. As they pile in, he stands there, looking a little shocked that so many people would be nice to him. I smile at him. “It’s okay. This place will be perfect in a couple hours.”

  It takes more than a couple hours, though. I help Mrs. Lancaster set out this hearty buffet of cold roast beef and chicken on the deck as everyone else gets to work inside. People are rushing about like mad little ants for most of the time, and I barely see Noah. After awhile, Mrs. Lancaster calls everyone to come and eat, and he still doesn’t show up.

  Worried, I start scanning every room for him. When the last room in the house comes up empty, I have a good idea where I’ll find him. Sure enough, when I enter the garage, he’s sitting behind the wheel of his truck, playing with one of the thick rope bracelets on his wrist again, and looking sheepish.

  I walk around to the passenger side and open the door. “Mind if I come in?”

  “I’ll never mind you,” he says softly.

  I sit down next to him. “Ugh,” I moan. “They say they’re going to be there until late tonight.”

  He covers his face in his hands. “’Sokay. I appreciate their help.”

  He might appreciate it, but he also wants to be alone. I grin. “Want to run away?” I ask him, but then cringe when he looks at me, surprised. Could I be any stupider? “I mean—“

  “Stop, Ari. Yeah. I want to run away. With you. You wouldn’t be a mistake.” He snakes a hand over the center console and finds mine, and our fingers entwine together. “Jacy wasn’t wrong. If it were you the first time, I wouldn’t have come back.”

  My breath catches. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really. You can’t tell me you didn’t know, back then. You’d walk into a room and suddenly I couldn’t speak coherently. It’s no wonder everyone called me a freak.”

  I blink at him, dazed.

  He puts his head back against the headrest and stares at the ceiling. “Sorry. I’m not really good about being around people anymore.” Then he laughs. “I guess I never was. But it feels so phony when people are nice to me. I don’t trust them.”

  “You don’t have to worry. They won’t steal your stuff or anything. They’re good—”

  “I have no doubt of that, Ari. The feelings I have are irrational. I know that. But it doesn’t stop me from having them.” He shrugs. “And I kind of wanted to be alone.”

  “Oh,” I say. “I am defeating that purpose, then.”

  I reach for the door handle, but he squeezes the hand he has in his. “It doesn’t apply to you. Although, your dad sure wouldn’t like it.”

  I smile slyly. “What if he didn’t know about it?”

  “You have my attention.” He picks up my hand and brings it to his lips, then plants a kiss on my knuckles.

  I watch him, one thought screaming inside me. His eyes rise to meet mine, and I know he can read it, like he reads everything in my head. So I decide I can’t keep it in. I take a deep breath and shake my head. “I’d rather you put that on my mouth.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he says softly, his eyes sparking with the possibility. Then he drops my hand. “Ari, stop it. You know we can’t.”

  “I know people say we can’t,” I say, leaning over the console and touching his hair. He closes his eyes as I do, like he’s trying to steel himself against me. “At first I thought the idea was crazy. But Noah. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. About you being close to me.”

  He groans and starts to rest his head on the steering wheel, as if all of his bones have turned to goo. “Hell. That’s seriously the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “You’re killing me here,” he says, tracing a finger on my hand. “No, the opposite. With you, I feel like I’m waking up from whatever sleep I’ve been under. I can feel things I never felt before.”

  “You mean, you don’t think kissing me would be two organs slapping together, et cetera?” I ask with a grin.

  He matches my grin. “No. God. I look at you, at your lips . . . I think about kissing you and I feel like I’m that twelve-year old kid again. But Ari-Bari, I worry it’s the worst thing for you.”

  I exhale my frustration. “No way. Stop thinking that. Get that thinking out of your head, once and for all. Because it’s not true.”

 
“All right. If you don’t care what your dad says, then I don’t care. If he truly wants me to be a better person and heal . . . you’re the medicine, Ari. I don’t need therapists or pills or church. You’re all I need.”

  That cold sweat breaks out at the back of my neck again. It’s scary and thrilling all at once, like jumping over the edge without a net, but I don’t care. I want this. Denying it is not going to work. I don’t think anything has felt so right, so obvious before. “Even brilliant people can be wrong, once in a while.”

  He laughs a little, then reaches over and pulls me into his lap, making me squeal a little louder than I intended. I settle against him and press my face into the side of his neck, savoring his heat and his smell. His eyes bore into mine, then trail down to my lips. He whispers, “Then I am so in for it, little Ari-Bari.”

  #

  That Monday night, the doorbell rang.

  It was late, nearly ten, and I was already in bed. I remember creeping to the top of the staircase and hearing Mr. Templeton’s voice. It was unusually fragile and frantic. He said, “They’re gone.”

  My father opened the screen door and let Mr. Templeton in. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that she just left.”

  “Annie?”

  “Yeah. And she took my son.”

  My father was calm. “Where do you think they went?”

  “I have no idea. I haven’t been home since Friday night so I have no idea how long they’ve been gone.”

  “Well. I drove them to a party on Saturday night. And he had school today, right?”

  “He didn’t show up for school. The principal called me at work when he couldn’t get Annie on her cell.” I heard the springs creaking on the old sofa in the living room. “You don’t get it. She’s unstable. She does things. Things that don’t make sense. I knew something like this would happen.”

  Unstable. I’d never heard anyone say anything of the sort about Mrs. Templeton. A chill went through my body as I recalled past things she’d done, things that hadn’t seemed quite right. Those childlike temper tantrums. The way she’d looked at me like I was in her way. The way she’d acted almost . . . jealous of me.