Not wanting to waste this time together, I nod. “I believe you, but I want you to know you can trust me. Whatever is going on, I can help you.”
“Not this time, Cody. It’s always been my job to protect you, so let me do my job.”
I notice a strange car in the driveway. “You got company?”
He unbuckles and sighs. “Violet’s guy of the week. He’s here every day.”
I cringe, remembering the guy’s stark naked butt pressed up against my legs.
“Come inside so I don’t have to deal with them alone?”
“Sure.”
We walk inside to find Violet and naked prom guy in the kitchen. Violet is whipping something in the mixer and he is pulling something out of the oven.”
“Ooh, Cody. You’re just in time. Harrison has the most awesome recipe for hash brownies.”
“Smells good.” I sniff the air, which is permeated with pot. “Don’t the cops still watch your house?”
“Yeah, but so what? They never come in. Mom’s at the bar and Dad is never coming home. This is our time.”
Mischa disappears into the other room and Violet moves closer to me to speak.
“Why are you bringing Mischa home?” There’s a little bit of an accusation in her voice.
I shrug. Who knows what we’re doing. “I ran into him at the gas station.”
“Whatever. Ooh! Wait, I have something to really get this party started.” She skips from the room and I’m left with her blond boy toy.
“Hey, I’m Harrison. Remember me from the other night?” He walks over and shakes my hand. This is the first time we’ve met sober. He’s my age, but I’ve never seen him before. He must be new to town or something.
“I remember. You’re new around here?”
“Just moved here from up north.”
“Why?” I don’t mean for it to come out as mean as it sounds, but he chuckles slightly and raises his hands in the air.
“Why not? My parents wanted to live in a safer town, but you guys have more shit going on here than we ever did back in my old neighborhood.”
“This place is a wreck,” I tell him. “As soon as I turn eighteen, I’m getting the hell out of here.”
He tries to hand me a brownie, but I push it away. A few seconds later Violet hops into the room with a can in her hand. “Who’s ready for the Waaa, waaa juice?”
“What’s that?”
Violet holds up the can, which I recognize as what we have at the house to clean out our computer keyboard. “It’s like a whip-it but a million times better. Try it.”
She shoves it in my hand, but before I can decline, Mischa walks into the room and pulls it from me.
“Are you fucking crazy? That shit can kill you.” He slams it on the counter right in front of Violet and the two of them exchange a crazy glare.
Afraid of being caught in another one of their fights, I take a step back. The Cromwell siblings could make any party fun, but they are best known for their short tempers. Mischa grabs his sister by the hand as she tries to push him back, but he misjudges her strength and falls into me. The scent of sandalwood and shaving cream overcomes my senses as he turns around to steady me.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, catching my gaze and holding it. I’m not afraid to admit that our physical attraction overshadows everything else about our relationship. Maybe it’s the reason why I’m so breathless right now.
“It’s okay,” I manage to get out.
“Come on.” He pulls me from the kitchen. “Let’s let these two kill themselves in peace.”
“I heard that!” Violet yells.
He shuts his bedroom door behind us, and I sit down on the bed. I’ve been in this room a hundred times. We’ve watched movies on this floor, and we’ve played cards on this bed. But not since we hooked up. He throws himself on the bed beside me, causing me to bounce up and down a few times.
“Sorry about Violet. She’s been acting out since my dad got arrested. I don’t know what’s going on in her head.”
“She’s in pain, maybe you should talk to her.”
“I’m a guy. We don’t talk.”
He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close so my head is on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”
All my anger from earlier melts away. Right now, I couldn’t care less about what he’s hiding. “Me too.”
He traces the veins on the back of my hand before lifting it up to press a kiss against my skin. “We should hang out more when schools out.”
“That is if I pass Chemistry. I’m having such a hard time. I might have to go to summer school.”
“Let me help,” Mischa offers. He rolls off the bed and grabs his chemistry book from a pile of books by the door. He throws it on the bed. “What are you having trouble with?”
“Everything.”
“Okay, then let’s start at chapter one.” He pulls up the periodic table and begins going over all the elements with me, helping me memorize the entire thing. Gallium, Indium, Chromium, things like that.
“I think I got it,” I exclaim as I balance out a chemical equation. “You should be a teacher or something.”
This earns me a hearty laugh.
My lips open up to a perfect oh as an idea strikes me. “Teach me how to solve a Rubik’s Cube.”
He grabs the cube on his nightstand. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
“How you do it, duh.”
He flips the little blocks around under his fingers. “It’s simple really. Just think of it in levels not sides. You can match up one side all day, but it doesn’t matter if all the other colors are wrong. Focus on doing the top level, then the middle, and lastly the bottom. Just remember that the very center blocks never move so use those as guiding marks.”
I take the cube and move around a few blocks with no luck.
“Just practice,” he says. “Take it home and practice.”
I move the colored squares around hopelessly a bit more and make small talk. “Are you doing anything in the fall? College or anything?”
He slams his book closed and tosses it on the floor. “I’m not the type of guy who goes to college.”
“But you could be. If you just showed people your potential, things could be different. You can get out of this town and stop being a Cromwell. You could leave with me.”
“I’ll always be a Cromwell. Stop trying to change me,” he snaps.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant.”
“I can do a few extraordinary things. So what? Doesn’t change who I am. Why are you afraid of being with me like I am? Is it because you know your parents will disapprove? Guess what, no matter what I do, your parents will always see me as a Cromwell.”
“That’s not true.” I don’t understand why he’s saying this. I care about him, not my parents.
“Just stop it, Cody. Stop believing in me because I don’t want to be that person. Dad is gone now, so it’s my job to watch out for Violet and my mom.”
I nod, afraid I might upset him even more. My phone rings, and I reluctantly grab it.
“Ugh! What now? Hello?”
My dad’s voice comes through the speaker. Probably the first time he’s ever called me. “Dakota, your principal called and said you weren’t at school today. Apparently you’ve missed twelve days already this semester.”
I close my eyes. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
“And he says you’re on academic probation for the rest of the year?”
Mom already knows. I’m surprised she never told him. “Dad, it’s only a few more weeks. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“And this is only your future. Your teacher says you’re supposed to be at afterschool tutoring, so get your butt down there, now! And come home right after.”
This voice tells me this isn’t something I should be arguing with. “Fine,” I snap.
“And I’m trying to work. I don’t need any more teachers calling me to report your inability to turn in homework.”
“I said fine.” I slam the phone on the bed and give Mischa a half smile. “I gotta go. My dad got a call from the school about my bad grades and is going ballistic. Thanks for the cube, maybe one day I’ll figure it out.”
“He cares about your grades that much?” He sits up on his elbows to get a better look at me.
“Yeah, it’s like the one thing he cares about. I guess because he doesn’t have a son or any siblings he depends on me to carry on the family legacy or something.”
“Don’t go.” Mischa leans in and kisses me, catching me off guard.
A minute ago, we were fighting and now he wants to hook up? As much as I want to stay, I don’t want to make my dad angrier. “Rain check?”
His face drops in disappointment and suddenly his interest dies way, killing what little hope I had inside for our relationship.
“Fine, whatever,” he mumbles, before lying back down and staring at the ceiling.
It’s a rarity to come home to both my parents’ cars in the driveway. I don’t think it’s happened since...who knows when. I take the dreaded walk up to the front door and go inside. The living room is empty, but I find them sitting in the dining room with a tense look on their faces.
“Everything okay?” My gaze moves back and forth between them both.
“We’re having dinner.” My mother straightens up and smooths out her dress. “Sit down. We have something to discuss.”
That’s what I was afraid of. “Is this about skipping school because I don’t want to—”
“Just sit down!” my father barks out.
“Wow, okay.” I sit in the seat across from my mother and try to read the expression on their faces. Angry, mad, sad, or disappointed. I can’t tell what to prepare for. I’ve never been grounded before, but they could take my car or credit cards.
“After we got off the phone, I called your principal to tell him you were on your way. He told me something else. He said they can’t approve the hospital’s summer internship because your G.P.A has dropped below a 3.5? Now explain to me how in the world that has happened?”
“So I let a few assignments slip past.” I look toward my mom. “You knew I was having trouble.”
My father’s face twists in anger before turning to her. “You knew about this?”
“I knew she was having trouble, yes.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you throwing everything away, Dakota? I thought you were more responsible than this. I thought you weren’t such a screw-up!”
Hearing those words come out of his mouth sits heavy on my heart. We’ve never had much in common, but he’d always been proud of my academic accomplishments.
“Let’s just eat,” I mumble. I push around the roast beef on my plate.
As we eat, the only thing that can be heard is the sound of our forks scraping the plates.
“There’s something else we need to talk about,” my father says. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands up. He bends down to pick up a bag and scowls at my mother.
“What do you mean?” I look back and forth between them both, not sure what’s going on.
My mother refuses to look at me. My stomach becomes a hard rock, and all I can hear is the blood rushing through my body. I know what’s going on, but I can’t allow myself to think the words.
“Your father is moving out,” she says. She tears the pearls off her neck and throws them at him. They don’t hurt him. He doesn’t even acknowledge them as they scatter across the dining room floor.
He refuses to look me in the eyes when he speaks to her.
“It’s not working out, Kathleen. Dakota, I’m moving out. Technically, I’ve been gone for a few weeks. I’ll be staying at the Regency until I find my own place and-”
“Oh, come off your high horse, Kenneth!”
I step away from my mother as her yelling becomes louder, filling my ears with a deafening ring. I can’t say anything. I don’t say anything as her rants become incoherent between her sobs.
“What will people say about us?”
My father doesn’t say a thing which makes a sob sneak up in my throat. He walks out the door with no explanation, no goodbye. I struggle to comprehend what I’m feeling, but everything is jumbled.
“I hate you! You ruin everything!” I scream at her. She has to be making him leave. She throws a glass against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces and storms from the room.
My parents never had the greatest marriage, but at least my father lived here. They hardly ever saw each other, which made the perfect arrangement. Was he really leaving or was this just a fight? I can still hear my mother throwing stuff around the kitchen, but I need to know what’s going on. On the way to the front door, my heel gives out and a sharp pain shoots up my ankle. Kicking my shoes off, I hobble out the door.
“Dad! Please don’t go. Is this because of what happened with Mr. Carmike last week? I promise to apologize. Maybe he’ll still write that letter for college.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” he snaps. His voice calms as he continues. “Things are difficult right now. I don’t expect someone your age to understand. Love is a complicated thing.”
He’s putting his suitcase in the trunk of his car, but stops and looks at me before closing it and making a move for the driver’s side door. I don’t expect him to feel bad for leaving.
“Dad, please don’t leave me alone with her.” I don’t know why I’m begging him to stay. He’s never home anyway, but if he moves out, I’ll see him even less.”
“I don’t have time for this, Dakota. I gave it a good shot, but it’s time to move on.”
I hurry to keep up with him. “But, Dad—”
“Not another word, I mean it!” He slams the door in my face, not even looking my way as he speeds off.
Jerk, he could have run over my feet!
“And it’s Cody, I hate it when you call me Dakota!”
I’m certain the whole block just heard me, but I couldn’t care less.
There’s no denying the burning behind my eyes. Rejection, humiliation, confusion. So many emotions tear away at my skull. I’m not sure how to deal with them. I cover my face with my hands and give out one loud scream until the pain subsides.
Going back inside isn’t even an option, Mom is on a warpath. I sneak around to the back of the house and sit on one of the chairs on the deck. After a few minutes of picking at the faded flower cushion, there’s only one thing to do so I don’t die of boredom—listen to music on my iPod. It will drown out the noise of my mother. I hear her causing thousands of dollars’ worth of damage. I think I hear her throwing his stuff out of a window as well but am too afraid to check. A short time later, my phone goes off.
Killian: Everything okay over there?
Cody: You heard it too?
Killian: The whole block heard it.
I don’t reply. It’s embarrassing.
Killian: Seriously though, are you okay?
Cody: You said you already heard what happened.
Killian: Ugh. Dakota, the whole block heard it now answer my question already.
Cody: Life sucks, but I’m used to it.
Killian: You want to come over to watch the changing of the lotto numbers?
Cody: I’m not in the mood plus I have school tomorrow.
Killian: You’re gonna join me on the roof. I have a box of chocolates with your name on it.
My weakness. Chocolate. Damn him.
Cody: Fine. I’ll be over there later. I hate you.
Killian: That’s okay. One day you will love me.
Somewhere around nine, I feel it’s safe enough to sneak back inside and take a shower. Mom is snoozing away in her room, and I’m covered in sweat from the humidity outside. I go to check on her. She’s on the bed, still in her dress. Her hair is sprawled across her pillow. I put a finger to her wrist to make sure she still has a pulse. Sure enough, she does. Pills from a half-empty bottle are strewn out across her nightstand. Withou
t hesitation, I grab a handful and pop them in my mouth. I don’t care what they are, but that night with Mischa was the freest I’ve felt in months. I use her water bottle to wash them down and leave the room. Barely making it to the staircase, I collapse on the top step and hug the railing. Everything is going downhill. Here I am, a week shy of seventeen. I should be having the best years of my life, but nothing makes any sense. My parents don’t give a damn about me. I can’t talk to my best friend because all she cares about is getting drunk. I don’t really have anyone else to talk to, no one that I feel like talking to anyway. Or maybe it’s that I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to deal with life.
I sit on the step silently crying for the longest time, listening to the large clock in the living room tick. With each second that passes, the tick tock resonates through the hallway and up through the stairs. It represents another moment in this house. Another step closer to being eighteen. When I’m eighteen, I can leave this place, this home, this town.
When it’s time to make my way to Killian’s place, the pills have kicked in and subdued my pity. My crying has ceased, and I feel better than I have in a long time. I don’t care about my parents’ problems, and I have this massive urge to smile. I feel on top of the world instead of the world being on my shoulders. Barefoot, I stroll across the lawn to Killian’s front door. I ring the doorbell and wait. Just like mine, his parents are hardly ever home, and I doubt they are here now. My body is pulsing with pleasure. It’s almost as good as an orgasm, but not quite. I sit back against the porch railing and enjoy the high. It’s like nothing bad can ever touch me, and in a world where I feel invisible, this is the greatest feeling in the world.
“What are you thinking?” Killian says, his blue eyes staring into mine. We’re face-to-face.
I blink. How did he get here? “You don’t wanna know.”
He sits back and crosses his hands in front of his chest. “Try me.”
“I’m tired of never being enough. I’m tired of making the wrong choices. My father’s gone, and I’m sure he hates me. I slept with Mischa, and I’m certain he used me.”
“I see…” He looks uncomfortable, fidgeting his hands and biting his bottom lip.
To the Steadfast Page 8
