by Ally Derby
“Well, well, well,” Claire goads, “what have we here?”
“Get the hell out of here!” he yells.
I jump and walk backward, trying to get out of that room as fast as I can, and I end up falling over Claire. I stand up and run out of the room.
“You’re really in my house, screwing—” Claire begins.
“Get out!” I hear Lana yell at her.
I run out the back door and look around, sick to my stomach. I knew Lana shouldn’t have gone in there. I knew—
“What’s going on?” Pax says, as he towels off and walks toward me.
“Your sister,” Claire starts. She must have followed me out.
“What about her?” he growls.
“She and Joey are screwing in the—”
He looks at me, and I shake my head. “Clothes on, but—”
He grabs my hand and yanks me toward the house. “Show me where they are.”
I hurry to the house, worried even more now that Pax seems completely out of sorts.
“There?” He points, and I nod. He runs to the door and throws it open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Pax, get—”
“No, you get out. You’re going home, Lana. Joey, your ass is going to the hospital. I told you she is a good kid, not some damn toy, not—”
“Never said she was a toy,” Joey snaps back at him.
Pax instantly has him by the shirt and against the wall.
“Don’t, Pax!” Lana yells. “Let go!” She looks back at me, “Why did you bring him in here?”
“Go get in the car, Lana!”
She starts trying to pull Pax away, and it is like watching a baby try to move a mountain.
I run in and get between them. “Pax!”
He doesn’t move, his nostrils flaring and his jaw twitching.
“Pax, let go and take Lana home. Just—”
“Get out of here, both of you,” he says in an unnervingly calm voice that I have never heard before.
“I didn’t do shit, man. She was all over me. Just take her and get the hell—”
He draws his fist back. “Don’t!” Pax looks at me. “Get. Out.”
“No,” I say, trying to seem strong.
He scowls at me as Joey ‘Freaking’ White slips out from between Pax and the wall.
“Asshole,” Joey bites out as he starts to leave the room.
“Joey?” Lana yells behind him.
“Not worth it,” he hisses at her.
I look at Pax, who is still glaring at me like Marvel at Rue. I step back and turn to walk out, catching a glimpse of my phone on the floor and realizing I must have dropped it when I fell earlier.
“You’ve ruined everything!” Lana yells at me.
I bend down and snatch my phone up. “Sorry, Lana.”
I run out the door and down the lighted path where I entered. I look at my phone, deciding to send a message to my mom—a ‘911. Come get me. I need you’—and then I feel tears building up in my eyes as I realize it’s dead.
I hear Lana yelling at Pax while I run to the end of the driveway. I don’t like that Lana blames me for ruining her night. I really don’t understand it, not at all. Then, the way Pax looked at me and talked to me was crushing. I don’t want anyone to see me. I want to disappear. I want to be invisible
As a result, I hide behind a towering cherry tree as they drive by in Pax’s car. The drive here was fifteen minutes, so I know the walk home will be ten times as long. What’s worse, I am in an unfamiliar area of town, well outside of the town limits, and I am suddenly scared.
Fear is a strange feeling, and somehow that feeling turns into strength.
I kick off my flip-flops and begin to run down the road toward home.
chapter five
I didn’t push send…
I wake in the morning, still dressed in the clothes I wore last night, and my feet are cut up from the gravel I ran on.
Then I hear voices, loud, unhappy voices.
“Where is she?” the woman yells.
“I already told you she is asleep,” my mother almost yells back. I have never heard her sound like that before.
“Wake her up!”
“Not until you tell me what the problem is.” Mom sounds calmer now.
I grab a pair of sweatpants, throw them on, and pull off my skirt as I make my way to the hall.
“She posted a video. Your daughter posted a goddamn video, making my little girl look like a whore.”
I look down the stairway as Mom and Mrs. Jamison both look up.
“You!” She points at me. “You get down here right this minute and bring your phone!”
I look at Mom who shrugs. “Sweetheart, did you post—”
“Of course not.” I run into my room and unplug my phone, powering it up as I run down the stairs. “My phone was dead last night, Mom. That’s why I didn’t call for a ride.”
“You walked all that way?” Mom gasps, and I nod. She looks me up and down, her eyes settling on my feet. “Is that blood?”
“Enough! Hand over that phone this instant!” Mrs. Jamison demands.
I start to hand it to her, but Mom stops me.
“You wait just a minute. The way you are speaking to my daughter in my house will not be tolerated.”
“Fine, then I’ll call the police!”
“Well, if that’s what you feel you need to do, then—”
“Be prepared for a battle. No one hurts my child and gets away with it,” Mrs. Jamison sneers, then slams the door behind her after she storms out.
I look down at my phone and hit the Instagram app. I then hit the button on the far right to check my posts. When the video begins, I gasp.
“Oh, Hadley,” Mom says as she looks over my shoulder.
She watches the whole thing as I look at the twenty-four comments and thirty-six likes.
“Mom, I swear to you—”
“Can you remove it?” she asks quickly.
“Yes, yes, I think.” I fumble around, trying to figure it out. “I’ve never posted anything that I needed to delete before. Oh, God, Mom, I—”
“Just delete it, Hadley.” She tries to sound calm, but she is clearly panicking.
“Done!” I say as tears roll down my face. “Deleted.” I start to cry. “What have I done?”
Mom takes my hand and leads me to the couch. “Sit. I need to clean up those feet. I can’t believe you walked all the way home, Hadley. You could have been killed, hit by a car, taken by some—”
“I know, I know. I just didn’t know what to do. Everything got crazy. Everything—” I start to sob.
“Okay, sweetheart, okay.” She hugs me again while I cry. I cry like I have never cried before.
~*~
The cops never come, and Lana has not returned my messages. This morning there is still nothing from her. I am half tempted to message Pax, but I don’t. After all, why would I? I never have before.
I get up, use the bathroom, get dressed for school, and then walk down the stairs.
Both my parents are at the table when I hobble in.
“Morning, Hads,” Dad says to me.
I stop walking and look at him.
It is morning, so why are you up? I want to say.
“Morning,” I reply as I walk to the fridge.
“Your feet okay?” he asks.
“They hurt, but it’ll be fine,” I answer, then look at Mom. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“Just thought I would take you to school today. I want to let the nurse know you probably shouldn’t take gym class.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” I pour a glass of milk and grab a banana.
“I think she’s right, Hads,” Dad interjects.
“Well, regardless, I can handle it.”
“Hads—” he begins.
“I haven’t been Hads in four years, Dad. It’s Hadley and—”
“That’s enough,” Mom scolds me.
“No, I deserve
that. It’s been a rough few years, Hads, but I’m workin’ on getting better. And just so you know, you’re always Hads to me. Ain’t gonna change.” He stands up. “Mom or me, which one is taking you to school?”
“Well, let’s see, which one of you hasn’t taken narcotics today and can drive?”
“Hadley, that is enough.”
“She’s got a right, Pammy.” He puts his hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Been two weeks since I’ve taken my pain meds, and I haven’t had the shakes in three days, so you’ll get me.”
I walk quickly over to the door and throw on my flip-flops, knowing I can’t stand anything else against my skin, and run out the door. “I can walk!”
I slam the door and hurry down the sidewalk, then stop as Pax backs out so he can go by. For a fleeting second, I wonder if he will tell me to get in. When he doesn’t, I don’t let it bother me, not one bit.
Once at school, I go to my locker and hurry to first period class, where I look at the seat I normally sit in and see another girl, Monica, sitting next to Lana. I look around and find the only seat available is in the front row.
Not wanting to cause a scene, I walk up and sit in it. I hear whispers behind me and try to ignore it, but they don’t go away. I feel emotions burn, building inside of me, and choke them back as I hear people, those I thought of as, at the very least, classmates and some school friends, hissing a one word descriptive about me. I slide down in my seat and try to focus on the lecture, but it is nearly impossible.
When I walk into my next class, it happens again and, in the next, the same thing.
At lunch, I retreat to the library and get lost in my homework.
I only look up when Claire walks up to my table. “Why the hell would you post that video? My parents have been fielding phone calls since that night!”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know I posted it. It must have happened when I fell. It—”
“Oh, please.”
“I swear, Claire. I would never do that. I took it down as soon as I realized—”
“A bit too late. Do you know how many people saw that? Re-gramed it? Shared it on Instagram and other social media outlets?” she snarls.
I slide out of my chair and begin walking away.
“All because you are jealous of her and Pax—”
I shut the library door behind me and turn to walk down the hall. I look up, and Pax is standing against his locker with Ryan.
“Bitch,” Ryan hisses.
“Enough,” Pax says as he turns his back and walks away from me.
At gym class, I am putting on my sneakers when I hear whispers. I look up to find a group of my classmates whispering and pointing. I tune it out and continue getting ready. Once in the gym, I realize immediately that it’s not going to get better, but I push myself, anyway. In the middle of class, Coach Douglas sends me to the nurse’s office.
I sit and wait for the nurse to come back as she instructed. Then I look up when she and the guidance counselor, Mr. Roach, walk in, and they both sit.
“Is there something you’d like to discuss, Hadley?” he asks, as if I am hiding something.
“No, I was called down here, but I’m not even sure why,” I answer honestly.
“Well, a few students brought the coach information about the lacerations on your feet. We are concerned, Hadley.”
“Oh, well, they’ll be fine. I ran barefoot and—”
“Stop for a moment, Hadley.” I look up at him. “We know everything that went on this weekend. We also know how physical pain can relieve emotional pain. We’d like to offer you some help.”
Although stunned is an understatement, I sit quietly while a storm brews inside of me. I try to think of ways to calm myself down, but they all lead to Pax.
I stand up, and they both look shocked as I walk over to the nurse’s metal desk in the corner of the room.
“Will you please call my mother and ask her to come pick me up? I’m not feeling all that well.”
“Why don’t you sit down and let us talk to you?”
“Will you please call my mother and have her pick me up? I’m not feeling well,” I repeat.
“Hadley—”
“Will you please call my mother and have her pick me up. I’m not feeling well.”
“Have a seat, Hadley,” Mr. Roach’s voice becomes stern.
“Will you please call my mother and have her pick me up. I’m not feeling well.” My voice rises as my focus turns to the sky.
“If you would sit down, we can discuss calling your—”
“Call my mother and have her pick me up.”
“Miss Asher—”
“Will you please call my mother and have her pick me up now, dammit!”
“Why don’t you go and lie down in the room over there, dear. We will—”
“Hadley. Sit. Down!” Roach demands.
Instead, I turn around and walk out of the room.
“Hadley!” he calls from behind me.
“I asked you to call my mother because I’m not feeling well. Now I’m going home.”
I walk down the hallway to my locker, watching every eye turn and stare at me. Tears spill down my face. I am angry, embarrassed, in pain, and my entire body burns from the fire inside that is minutes from combusting.
As I grab my bag and turn around, my principal, the vice principal, the nurse, and the guidance counselor stand like a wall or the career pack in front of me. I slap my tears away and try to walk past them, but they don’t move. The only movement in the hall is the mass of spectators witnessing my breakdown.
“Please move.”
“You can’t just walk out of here, Miss Asher.”
“Then call my goddamn mother!”
“Get in my office, now!” the principal yells at me.
“Bite me.” I turn around and walk in the opposite direction, realizing my phone is in my gym locker.
I walk into the locker room and grab my clothes. My feet ache, my head hurts, and I feel like I am going to explode. As I walk out, I see people at both sides of the hall, blocking my escape.
I lean against the wall and slide down as I type a 911 message to my mother and then sit, waiting for her to come.
Conversation surrounds me. Everyone is whispering. Teachers and staff are trying to direct me. I close my eyes and bury my head in my knees as I wish I had saved my wish on that shooting star two nights ago to take me away now.
“Excuse me,” I hear my mother say in an urgent, yet polite manner.
“Mrs. Asher—”
“You can have my attention after I speak to my daughter.” I look up as she pushes past them. She is the Sally to my Percy and always will be.
She squats in front of me, “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Shouldn’t she know already? Isn’t she psychic?”
I look over at Lana’s smug face.
“Ignore her, sweetheart. Grace and class. We stand up and walk out of here now, just you and me,” Mom says, as she stands and holds out her hand to me.
Once I nod and take her hand, she pulls me up then bends down to grab my things.
We walk past the wall of staff, my peers behind them, and out the door.
“I love you, sweetheart. We will get through this.”
“I love you, Mom.”
~*~
I spend the next day in bed. Mom goes to work while Dad comes in to check on me every hour.
I have no idea how much time has passed when I wake up to someone pushing the hair away from my eyes.
“You feeling any better?” Dad asks.
I feel my lip quiver and tears building.
“I’ll take that as a no. I was gonna head outside. Been working on something for your mom. You wanna come out?”
“I’m tired.”
“Gotcha. Tomorrow, then?”
I nod and close my eyes.
“I love you.”
I open my eyes, and the tears I thought were dried up resurface.<
br />
“Hads?”
“Dad.”
“Always, Hads.” He wipes away my tears.
“Always, Dad,” I repeat.
He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Sleep tight.”
I fall asleep thinking about four years ago, when Dad and I would talk about things. He was always my go-to when I was stressed or worried.
“Let’s flip a coin,” he would say. “Heads, you tell ‘em off and beat ‘em up. Tails, you be you and don’t let it bother you.”
The coin always landed on tails, always.
It all came to a crashing halt when he lost his job, and Mom started working two. He stopped smiling, stopped flipping coins, got into a car accident, hurt his back, and got a DUI. Until recently, I didn’t realize he would never be able to drive for a living again, and Mom says that the physical pain has put him in a depression, one she knows he will come out of soon.
“Tails,” I whisper, hoping that now he can take the same advice he gave me.
An hour later, I open my eyes, jump out of bed, and head to the shower. I take care to wash my feet, knowing if I get an infection, there is no health insurance.
After I dress, I come downstairs and look out the back window, seeing the shed door is open. I shove my feet into my flip-flops and hobble outside, where I hear the sound of a power tool, and then it stops.
“You realize it’s not tomorrow yet, Hads?” Dad asks as he walks out.
I take a minute to look at him, really look at him. His hair is wavy and long, but it’s pulled back. His once muscled frame is lean. He doesn’t look like my dad used to, but his eyes show me he is certainly trying. They aren’t blood shot and don’t have the yellow glow to them anymore. He is still handsome.
I remember how Mom used to look at him like he was the most stunning man on the planet. Today, I see a hint of that man, and even though life is screwed right now, there is a touch of promise in a seemingly unpromising time.
“Yeah.”
He stands in front of the door, not allowing me to pass. “Gotta give me the pinky promise you won’t tell your mom what I am up to back here.”
I nod then hold my pinky out, and he hooks his around mine.
“Gotta promise that you believe me when I say, when I have enough money to buy some wood, I will make yours.”
