Lost Cause

by Callie Sparks

  You liked working at the gas station?

  Yeah. I could go an entire shift without seeing a single soul, which made for a full eight hours I wasn’t having my crotch grabbed or being propositioned. And they let me have all the cigarettes I could smoke.

  You were so isolated that you had no clue that there’d been a nation-wide search for you, that you’d been featured on Missing Persons television broadcast, and that your father was actively following any lead the police came across to bring you home?

  No. No television out there, no cell phone service. We were in the pit of hell.

  #

  We spend a long time sitting in the grass, just holding each other and listening to the river. Then we start to pack up and head back to his truck, hand in hand. The beer festival is going on full swing, judging from the hoots and hollers emanating from Main Street. He throws the basket in and starts to wrap his arms around me, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of my jean shorts.

  “Well, if it isn’t my girlfriend,” a voice calls from across the parking lot.

  I whirl. I tense. It’s Gabe, here again with a bunch of his friends. Gabe rarely does anything sober anymore, so I should’ve known he’d be here. Here, and quite obviously drunk.

  Ignore him.

  “Just get in the truck,” I murmur into Noah’s ear. His eyes are blazing now, full of that intensity the old Noah never had. I know that looks means trouble. I tug on his arm. “Come on.”

  He looks at me, smiles, and squeezes my hand. Then he starts to guide me toward my Fiat, turning his back on Gabe.

  Gabe yanks on his shoulder. “Don’t fuck with me,” he snarls.

  Noah’s eyes turn even more murderous. He clenches his fists and starts to counter on him. I wedge myself between them and push on his chest. “You’re the only one doing the fucking with, Gabe. Just leave.”

  He laughs. “Really? You mean, you two aren’t fucking?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I hiss, keeping my voice low.

  His friends have all lined up around him. I try to make a move to pass them and get to my car, but he quickly blocks my way, clamping a hand onto my shoulder.

  I wrench myself away.

  “Touch her again,” Noah warns, voice hard.

  Gabe grins, bearing a set of perfect teeth. Whatever orthodontia Noah wrecked the week before has been speedily repaired. Gabe raises his hands benevolently as if to say, I mean no harm. He lowers his voice, but he’s still slurring his words. “I want to talk to you, Ari. Come on.”

  “There’s no point,” I say flatly.

  “There is. Unless you’re already fucking him. Because if you are . . . that’s fucking disgusting. I’d lose all respect for you.”

  I laugh sourly. “I’ve already lost respect for you, Gabe. Claire helped you with that. Leave us alone,” I mutter, finally succeeding in pushing through them and making three good steps toward my car. I’m still clutching Noah’s hand, but it’s cold and stiff.

  “Hope you got tested, Templeton,” he calls after us.

  I click the doors open on my Fiat and Noah opens my door for me. I’m standing so close to him, I can see him trembling, feel the tension in his body. I look up. His face is red, his lips sucked in, jaw working. He is about one step from losing it. “Remember last time,” I whisper to him. “They’ll hurt you.”

  His eyes soften as he gives me a nod of acknowledgement and a small smile. “Got it.”

  For the amusement of his buddies, Gabe is continuing on, nearly shouting so that everyone in the parking lot is turning our way. “Because you know, at that commune he was at? He fucked everything in sight. Family, men, kids, fucking farm animals.” He looks at his friends and grins. “He was their little bitch. They called, he fucked. I’m surprised his dick hasn’t fallen off. Isn’t that right, Templeton?”

  His friends are laughing, and some of them look disgusted. And yeah . . . that’s . . . horrible. I knew about him and his stepmother, but I didn’t think . . . I knew some things about the commune. They said he it was a free-love type of place, and he’d been abused there. But that’s all I knew, until now. Bile burns in my throat, as Gabe’s words echo in my head. Family, men, kids, farm animals. No. I know Noah better than anyone. No matter what anyone thinks, whatever happened was not his fault. Gabe is just being an asshole.

  I look at the people around us, who are trying to see exactly what depraved person Gabe’s talking about. Despite being drunk off his ass, Gabe still looks like a million dollars in his designer clothes, like someone worth listening to. So when my eyes land on Noah, I’m afraid.

  I’ve never seen him this angry.

  “It’s true,” he says loudly, addressing the entire parking lot now. “If you don’t believe me, ask Dinah Seaver. It was on primetime news.”

  He whirls to Noah.

  “Deny it, freak,” he challenges, raising his eyebrows. “Go ahead.”

  The next few seconds happen in a blur, in which I can’t do anything, because I’m frozen. Noah blazes around the side of the car, all cannons blasting. He meets Gabe full-force, shoving him hard on the chest with both hands so that he staggers back against a parked car, scattering dust in the air.

  Gabe is drunk, so his response time is slow, so when he comes back with another shove, Noah easily averts it and delivers a blow to his cheek. Gabe doubles over. The rest of his buddies immediately surround Noah. More dust rises, clouding the scene, and people begin shouting. One of the guys winds up and manages a low gut punch.

  I snap to attention and run toward them. “Wait!” I scream.

  Two of them are holding Noah motionless as Gabe wipes the sore part of his cheek with the palm of his hand and inspects it. No blood, but even still, the look in his eyes is murder. They’re going to kill him. He edges up like he’s going to punch Noah in the face, and meanwhile, Noah’s just staring at him, eyes black with hate, daring him.

  When did Noah get so fearless? I’m more afraid for him than he is for himself. I run forward and yank on Gabe’s arm, but one of his friends grabs me from behind. “No!” I shout, wanting nothing more than to get free and help Noah, when I suddenly feel the guy’s big hands pawing my breasts. He laughs in my ear and I can smell the beer on his breath. His other hand is on my upper thigh, rough and unwelcome. He presses his body against me, his erection driving into the crack of my ass. Leave it to Gabe’s friends to get turned on by a girl in distress. And I’m crying because my vision is blurred with tears; all I can do is hear the sounds of their fists hitting Noah.

  He doesn’t moan or make any sound that he’s in pain or in danger—no, it’s even worse than that. He makes no sound at all.

  I’m released so suddenly that I fall to my hands and knees, choking on the brown dirt.

  “Claire was a one-time thing,” a voice says. Gabe. How many fucking times is he going to say that while still thinking I care?

  I look up, wiping the dirt and tears out of my eyes.

  He’s sitting on the open tailgate of Noah’s truck. “Boredom. Ari. That’s all. You’re my life. I love you. You have to know that. We’ve been together for four years. You want to throw that away?”

  He jumps down and tries to help me up, but I yank myself away from him so fiercely that I tumble back into the dust. “It’s over, Gabe.”

  I look frantically for Noah, but he steps in my way. “It’s okay to be your father’s daughter and do charity work. But you can’t tell me you really want him, Ari. You can’t—“

  “Where is he?” I shout, frantic, shoving him out of the way. But he’s always been too huge to move.

  He clamps his hands around my arms so that I can’t even squirm. “Ari. Come on, he’s a head case. What you need is a beer. I know if I got you drunk, you’d—“

  I tense like a board. “You raped me, Gabe.”

  His mouth parts. His eyes narrow. “What?”

  “That first time. I convinced myself it wasn’t, that it was okay, because for so long I was dy
ing to be with you. I convinced myself that it didn’t matter, that what I felt didn’t matter as long as I ended up with Gabe Hill. But that was sick. You’re sick.”

  He’s staring at me, still managing to look superior despite the perplexed look on his face. “You know who you’re talking to? It’s me. Gabe Hill. You know damn well I don’t have to do that to get a girl.” He looks around, then holds his hands up, attempting to appease me. “Listen to yourself. You’re acting nuts. Bringing up something that happened a lifetime ago? How could I—I love you, Ari. You’re my girlfriend.”

  “Ex-girlfriend.” I raise my chin up to show him I mean business and seethe, “I want him, Gabe. It doesn’t matter who or what he fucked. I’d let him fuck me in a second before I’ll ever let you lay another hand on me. He is more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

  It’s enough. His grip loosens. I yank myself free and stagger away, aimless, drowning out the obscenities Gabe’s growling at me and blinking hard to get my vision back. That’s when I see a motionless body, lying near the canal.

  #

  The week dragged into the weekend. Every time I looked outside, the news vans were still there, even at night, when their headlights would scrape trails of light on the wall as I tried to sleep. I started keeping my curtains closed.

  That Friday night, my parents had Noah’s dad over for dinner. I’d had plenty of awkward parties at Claire’s, but this was, hands-down, the most awkward night of my life. Mr. Templeton looked red-faced and ready to either burst into sobs or pick up a salt shaker and launch it across the room. He pushed my mom’s carefully made spinach rollatini around the plate, but never took a single bite. He chewed on his thumbnails, like Noah did, and this skin around his thumbnails was bloody.

  Until now, I’d never realized how much he looked like his son.

  My parents tried to come up with topics to get his son’s disappearance off his mind—the weather, and oh, the river’s level rose a whole foot after that last storm, and the presidential elections are coming up (you know things are bad when politics is a “safe” topic of conversation), but it was like an elephant sitting right on top of us.

  Turns out, my parents didn’t have anything really in common with the Templetons, except Noah and me.

  That fact was never more clear to me than during that dinner.

  “May I be excused?” I asked as my father struggled to think of something to say while my mom started to clear the dinner plates.

  My mom said, “You’ll want to stay for dessert. Peach Melba.”

  My mother only made Peach Melba for special occasions, even though it was so easy, because she thought it looked elegant. As much as I loved it, I knew she’d keep leftovers in the fridge for me to eat later. Mr. Templeton certainly wasn’t a man with a big appetite. “Um. I’m actually not all that hungry.”

  She looked surprised, then nodded. I slid out of my seat and took the stairs two at a time, thinking about how Noah would trip on that fourth one if he was coming behind me. When I got into my room, I dug around in the drawer of my night table, and pulled out the walkie-talkie.

  I turned it on, but the battery was dead.

  Then I pushed aside the curtains and looked at his window, closed now, despite it being an unseasonably hot day in September. I brought my mouth to the walkie-talkie and tried to think of what I would tell him, if I could.

  There were only two things I could think of.

  The first was: I’m sorry, over.

  And the second was: Please don’t let it be over.

  Chapter Twenty

  Did you ever try to leave yourself?

  A few times. Never got very far before I realized I had no way of getting along on my own. I tried saving money by burying it in the sand but it got found. Still, by the end I knew I’d have to leave, no matter what, even if it meant being homeless.

  Why?

  According to John it was the duty of the men to break in the young girls. And Peony wanted me. I don’t know why. She was so innocent, and always seemed above that whole place, like none of that could touch her. She used to make me these rope bracelets. Like, dozens and dozens of them, as gifts. She was like . . . my kid sister.

  Like Sarah.

  Yeah. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t a pedophile. I told them I’d rather die than fuck some underage kid.

  And what did they do?

  They’d been fucking me for years, so it didn’t go over too well with them. John said that this is the way they did things, and if I wanted a place to sleep, they’d have to punish me. I didn’t care. Any punishment was better than what they wanted from me.

  And what happened to Peony?

  She was disappointed in me. But Jason was her second choice, and he happily took on the task. I tried to stop him, but at that point he’d been part of the community so long, he didn’t see anything wrong with it.

  #

  He’s already sitting up when I run to him. I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh, God, Noah . . .”

  I start to lower myself onto the ground beside him, but he puts up a warning finger. “Stop.”

  His nose is bleeding, and there’s a gash in his forehead, right next to his old scar. I need to touch him, to help him. I reach for him, and he skirts away from me, then stands up and starts to limp quickly toward his truck. I’m surprised he can move so fast, considering. “Wait, Noah . . .”

  He stops and spits blood onto the dirt. He’s looking at the ground. His voice is soft. “Go home, Ari.”

  “Not without you.”

  He shakes his head and keeps moving despite a painful-looking limp, wiping the blood that’s trickling down the side of his face. He won’t look at me. I break into a run to catch up to him and tug on his shirt. “Come on, you need to get that looked at, Noah—“

  He whirls on me and advances like he’s going to push me. Then he throws up his hands. “Why?” he snaps. “Why do you even care? Did you hear him? Why aren’t you running in the other direction? If you were smart, you would.”

  I just stare at him.

  “All that stuff he said? Guess what? It’s true.” He laughs sourly at my surprise, gives me a defiant almost-smile. “I’m a fucking monster, in more ways than one.”

  I try to touch him. “Noah, come on—“

  He flinches away. “Did you hear me? It’s true. You didn’t watch the special, so I’ll have to fill you in. I fucked my stepmother, I fucked men, I fucked—“

  “I don’t care!” I shout, voice tight. “That’s behind you. I told you—“

  “Fuck you,” he growls, waving me off like he can’t waste any more time with me. He stalks to his truck and before he gets there, kicks the ground, doubles over, and shouts, “Shit!”

  He throws his keys across the parking lot, shouting a string of obscenities as I realize what he’s pissed at. They slashed his tires. Gabe and his idiot friends.

  I jog over to the patch of grass where his keys landed and retrieve them. When I come back, he has his abdomen flat against the tailgate, and is facing the back of his truck, just staring hard at nothing.

  “Come with me,” I say to him, touching his elbow. “Please.”

  He turns and seems surprised to see me. He laughs again, even more bitterly than the last time. “Ari-Bari, my savior,” he says, his tone mocking.

  But he follows me, anyway.

  The ride home, he’s silent. I tell him over and over again that it doesn’t matter what he did. I understand everything, I understand that no matter what it started out as, he was abused and forced to do those things. But he doesn’t respond. He continues to look at his lap, and occasionally out the window, so I can’t see his face.

  We pull into the driveway. “I know who you are, best friend,” I tell him softly, taking a tissue out of the center console and making a move to wipe the blood that’s now congealed on the side of his face. He flinches at first, but then he starts to accept it. I know I can soften him. “You can hide it under this rough exterior, but that’s not y
ou.”

  His head is down, but he’s leaning into my touch. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

  I chuckle as I dab his stubbly cheek. “No. You were ashamed of who you were, even then. Sure they had the money and the nice clothes. But you’ve always been better than them, in all the ways that matter. You still are.”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  “And I was so stupid. Back then. It should’ve been just us. But I thought I wanted more, when you were . . . everything.” I sigh. “And I don’t want a guy who’s mostly a dick and has glimpses of sweetness. I want you, who despite everything he does to hide it, is the sweetest guy I know.”

  He lets out a bitter laugh.

  “It’s true, Noah. Did you really mean it? All those years ago, when you said you wanted me so bad?”

  He looks over at me. “What?”

  “You said you wanted me. In Claire’s pool shed.”

  His eyes turn stormy. “Yeah. I meant it. I hated carrying that secret, being different from everybody. And you were so perfect. I knew I couldn’t be more like you, so I wanted to drag you down to be like me. I wanted you to have a hole in yourself as big as the one I was carrying around. What kind of asshole best friend is that?”

  “No, you were—“

  “You don’t get it. I’m not hiding anything. I’m not a nice guy. Maybe I used to be, but that boy you thought you knew—it’s not me. I haven’t been that way since I was twelve. I would’ve fucked you in that pool shed. That’s how fucked up I was. How fucked up I am.” He shakes his head. “I don’t meet a person and wonder what their name is. I meet a person, no matter who it is, and I wonder how quickly I can get them off. That’s fucked up.”