by Castile, Mia
“I think we should talk about what just happened.” I wasn’t sure I could move if I had to. I just needed a minute more to gain my bearings.
“I was just helping you practice before next weekend,” he said, as he swallowed hard and stared at his car.
“Chase—” I began.
“Lacey, really, I have to go.” He knew he didn’t really have to go. I knew he didn’t too, but I moved out of his way. He got into his car without another word to me.
I watched him pull away and the tail lights disappear as he turned the corner. I walked back to my front door. Henry and Byron stood in front Byron’s car, quieting their conversation as I passed, but their eyes were glued to me. I ignored them both and went inside, straight through the house to the backyard, grateful that this was one night my parents weren’t camped out on the back patio. I slumped into a lawn chair and put my head in my hands. What had I just done?
Chapter 24
I didn’t want to get out of bed the next morning. I didn’t want to have to explain to my parents why I was home and not at Tasha’s house. I didn’t want to have to face Lana and her questions about why I was in such a bad mood. I was in a bad mood because I was a bad person. I lied to boys that I liked and tricked them into liking me. I lied to them about having feelings about them in real life. I lied to them and tricked them into liking me in real life. I lied to boys I thought were my friends and tricked them somehow into kissing me, and kissing me good. I woke up tracing my lips and imagining him kissing me again. That was not fair to Henry. That was not fair to Chase. It was not fair to me. I didn’t know what had come over him the night before to cause him to do that, or me for that matter, to kiss him back. I didn’t like Chase like that. He was my partner in crime; he was my banter buddy; he was my—OK, banter buddy is a little cheesy right? You get the idea; he had somehow managed to make himself vital to my way of life, and I could not ruin that. So I hid under my covers until I heard my mother leave and my dad wander outside. Then I jumped into my shower. I was suffocating and had to get out. I emerged a half hour later in my favorite worn Levis and a comfy T-shirt. Lana jumped as if I’d caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. She was simply placing a tall stack of clothes on my bed.
“Here are your clothes I’ve borrowed, laundered per your request.” Lana smoothed the top shirt on the stack of clothes. There were some pieces I hadn’t even realized she’d borrowed.
“What’s this?” I asked, laughing at her. She did nice things like this only when she wanted something.
“Just returning your things.” She smiled and bounced off my bed. She was really returning to herself, wearing short sleeves again and some of her really cute dresses and things.
“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” I asked, giving her an encouraging eyebrow raise.
“What were you thinking?”
“Remember that old general store by Turkey Run?” I asked; her eyes lit up instantly.
“Yeah.”
“Wanna go get ice cream?” She giggled because Turkey Run State Park was at least two hours away, though you had to taste the ice cream from Gobbler’s Knob to appreciate the fact that it was worth the drive. We told my dad what we were doing and were soon on our way. I cranked up the playlist and rolled down the windows. We sang at the top of our lungs as we drove down Interstate 74 West. For those few hours, I didn’t have questions in my mind about fighting words or what I should have said. It was me and the music and my co-pilot. When we were little, my parents used to take us to Rockville for the Covered Bridge Festival in the fall and the Strawberry Festival in the summer. We would spend the weekend at a bed and breakfast and go see how the pioneers lived at Billy Creek Village and walk around the court house in downtown Rockville. Then, before we went home, we would spend the day walking the trails of Turkey Run, capping off the weekend with a trip to Gobbler’s Knob. Those weekends were what I loved so much about Indiana. We got off on State Road 41 and began to drive south. Before too long, we came across signs that said Steam Corner Flea Market. Rows of campers lined the fields, their awnings extended and tables set up with antique merchandise and knock-off designer wear.
“Let’s stop!” Lana called over the wind rushing around us. We had long since piled our hair on top of our heads in messy buns. “Maybe we can find something for Mom.” What was wrong with this girl, thinking of others too? I laughed and pulled into the makeshift parking lot, a field that extended the length of the flea market behind it. I found a parking spot and locked up the car. We began walking down the aisle, passing “booths” that held anything from feathered roach clips and velvet Indiana paintings to topaz jewelry. Some sold old antique dishes, tarnished and cracked. Others held the latest “as seen on TV” products, and the booth operators gave demonstrations on their merchandise. The booth operators ranged in culture as much as the products they sold. From retired, to what looked like motorcycle gangs, to church people. We stopped at a concession stand, and we each got a lemon shake-up and shared a funnel cake. There is something about carney food on a hot spring day. The lemonade made my mouth water with its tarty-sweetness and the funnel cake quenched it. Lana and I each bought a pair of knock-off Coach sunglasses for five dollars. I gave them until the end of the day before they broke, but I didn’t care; we were having fun. Lana wandered through the antiques as I found a stack of records with my dad written all over them. He loved vintage records and would sometimes make us listen to them for hours. I enjoyed them; there was something resounding about records that you don’t get from mp3s. I found a Twisted Sister and a Metallica that didn’t look too scratched up. I knew he would appreciate them. For a bonus, I talked the guy down to a dollar each. Lana found our mom a nice tea kettle. So after wandering the aisles for a while longer, we finally decided to be on our way. We put our treasures in the trunk and merged back on to State Road 41.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the gravel parking lot of Gobbler’s Knob. It was a whitewashed old general store with a wraparound porch. It had tables and swings sitting around the front of it. We walked up to the antique screen door, opening it with a squeak. We both ordered waffle cones. I got a scoop of praline pecan while Lana got superman, a blue, pink, and yellow rainbow ice cream.
“Invincible?” I asked Lana, as the cashier rang us up.
“Delicious,” she responded, taking a long lick.
Once we paid, we went outside and ate our ice cream and watched the cars pass on the country road.
“I bet they don’t have bullies out here,” Lana said, surveying the wooded countryside.
“Bullies are everywhere,” I sighed, taking a bite out of my waffle cone.
“Not here. If we lived here, we could start over and be anyone we wanted to be.” She looked hopefully into the distance.
“Who would you want to be?” I asked, pulling my feet under me and sitting Indian-style allowing her to continue pushing us on the swing.
“Not me, I know that much.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You are amazing just how you are, smart and pretty too.” I tweaked her nose, but she frowned at me.
“If you could be anyone in the world who would you be?” she asked thoughtfully.
“That’s a loaded question; un-cock that sucker.” I un-cocked my thumb from my finger gun. “If I could be anyone? I think I would want to be myself. It’s too hard to be someone else. I’m me for a reason. Whether I’m a good person or a bad person, this is who I’m meant to be.” I tilted my head back, dropped the last bit of waffle cone in my mouth, and looked at the clear blue sky. I wanted to believe that. But I didn’t have faith in myself, not yet. It’s hard to convince someone else when you don’t believe it yourself.
Sunday met me with low expectations. My phone hadn’t rung, dinged, or buzzed all weekend. Status Quo was surprisingly quiet. After the initial assault, the bikini picture seemed to blow over like everything else always did. When I came downstairs, Lana was cuddled on the couch with my
mom watching Annie. We hadn’t seen that since we were in the single digits. I guessed that she needed comforting, and I was glad that she was getting it from Mom. I, on the other hand, might have been a glutton for punishment, but I returned outside to work on my tan. I was going to be seeing Henry as Farrah in less than a week, and I wanted to look amazing. I had a shopping trip to Metropolis Mall in Plainfield planned for Wednesday, and I was going to put my best foot forward, with or without the support of my friends. I kept telling myself that I didn’t need them and I would be stronger without them. I hoped I was right.
Chapter 25
After a disastrous Monday, I just wanted to disappear, or go back in time, something to change my impending approaching fate. Henry was still avoiding me and was still best friends with Byron and Bea. Tasha and Jade were still the new Tasha and Jade—ignoring me grandly. In the classes Chase didn’t skip, he sat in the corner and ignored me. I just wanted my friends back, all of them.
So imagine my surprise when I pulled into the driveway of my house, and Chase sat in his car at the curb. After avoiding me all day, he was now at my house? I didn’t understand him. I parked and got out, leaving my bag in the front seat. I marched over to his car and leaned into his open window.
“So now you’re stalking me?” I asked, trying to stare at him hard.
“Get in; we need to talk.” He looked at me sideways. I slid into his car and crossed my arms. He began, “I should have never kissed you. I’m not really sure what I was thinking, but I don’t want to ruin what we have going on here.” He stared at his steering wheel.
“It was a good kiss,” I admitted, giving him a reluctant smile. “I just don’t want things to get weird between us. Right now, you’re the only friend I have.” I leaned my head back against the head rest, and he reached over and squeezed my hand. I squeezed his back.
“I just want you to know; your secret is still safe. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” He looked at me, and I believed him.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked.
“Sure, video games?”
“Sounds like a plan.” We both got out of the car, and he followed me into the house and up the stairs. I didn’t see Lana downstairs, I didn’t hear her stereo blasting or That 70’s show playing. I wondered where she was.
“I’m going to check on Lana. Go ahead and set it up, OK?” He nodded and went to my room. I went to hers. Surprisingly, it was meticulously clean. There was a folded paper on the bed. It had my name on it. I thought that was sweet, so I picked it up and opened it.
Dear Lacey,
I’m all alone. There is no one I can talk to. Thanks for trying to be there for me, but you just don’t understand. Everyone at school hates me. I can’t take the things they say, the way they crowd around me and yell at me. You hate me. I know you say you don’t, but I only get in the way. I’m a loser. I don’t want to be a loser anymore. For what it’s worth, I love you. I have always looked up to you, and if I weren’t such a waste, I’d want to be like you. Living and breathing is too painful though. It’s too much. I can’t cry anymore; I can’t take it anymore. I want to be numb.
Thank you for Saturday. It was the best day I’ve had in a long time. Take care of Mommy and Daddy. They are going to have a lot of questions probably. It’s OK to tell them what’s been going on. It won’t matter now. I’m OK, though, with my decision, my choice. I actually finally feel happy and free. Be happy for me too.
Love,
Lana
I heard myself scream Chase and Lana’s names, but everything stilled. I moved in slow motion as I dropped the letter and ran to the bathroom door in a slow heartbeat. It was locked; Chase was instantly behind me asking if I was OK, but I was just screaming Lana’s name and shaking the door as hard as I could. I realized that I needed the key and I fumbled for it above the door frame. It was gone! I ran to my door, and luckily there was one there, so I grabbed it. I raced back down the hall to her bathroom. My hands were shaking, and tears streamed down my face. I hadn’t told Chase anything, but he obviously sensed my urgency and gently took the key from me and popped the door. Then. There, lying on the floor in a pool of blood, was my little sister. Her shirt and jeans were covered in crimson. Her skin was greying, and her breath was shallow. I stood there and stared at her, my voice gone, my eyes blurry and hazy, as Chase grabbed towels from the rack in the corner and wrapped them around her. He took off his shirt and ripped it, making tourniquets and began tying them around her forearms just below her elbows. He continued to tear strips from the never-ending fabric of his T-shirt, wrapping them firmly around each of her arms and applying pressure. He was talking to me, but all I saw was my sister giving up, lying on the floor welcoming death instead of talking to my parents or me, or getting help or. . . I should never have kept her secret. This was another lie I had hidden; this was my fault. She told me not to feel guilty, but that was the only thing I felt. Everything else was numb. Chase was screaming at me, but all I heard, all I saw, was her leaning her head back on Saturday looking at the wooded hills, making up a new life for us where we could be anyone we wanted to be.
“No, no, no, no,” I stuttered as I knelt beside her and turned her face to me. Her head was limp, her eyes glassy, distant and unfocused. “Lana we can go there; I promise we’ll go there. I’ll be whoever you want me to be. Please, Lana, please,” I whispered in her ear.
“LACEY!” Chase shouted firmly. I looked over at him, barely recognizing him. “Get on the phone. Call 911 and go outside and wait for them. She’s not dead; we can save her.” I did as he instructed. Smearing my bloody fingers on my shirt, I stumbled down the stairs. It felt like it took forever for the ambulance to get there. I sat on the front steps rocking myself back and forth, grunting acknowledgements to the 911 operator every so often. Finally, I heard the sirens. I told the operator and disconnected the call. As soon as I did, I called my mom. I saw the fire truck, police car, and ambulance turn the corner as my mom answered her cell.
“Mommy—” I began in a cracking, shaky voice.
“What’s going on Lacey?” she shrieked. I hadn’t called her that in years. I tried to tell her, but only a few words actually made it out. “Lana, wrists, blood everywhere, Chase saving her, ambulance here, hospital” and I heard the phone drop. She quickly retrieved it and yelled instructions into the phone, but I didn’t hear her. All this happened in the time it took the vehicles to turn the corner and pull up in front of my house. It was a matter of minutes, but it felt like hours since I’d left Chase upstairs holding my sister’s arms tightly at the arteries where she had drawn lines from her wrists to the middle of her forearm with a razor. I stood mechanically and walked back upstairs, assuming the paramedics and fire men would follow me. They did; they followed me up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom. Chase’s face was wet with sweat, and he was covered in my sister’s blood. The paramedics quickly moved in and began working on her as Chase moved out of the way. He came to me. Both of us were already bloody, so I didn’t mind that he hugged me tightly against him. In a flash, they had her on the stretcher and were telling us that she was stable enough to be transported to the hospital. My mom and dad came stomping up the stairs as the paramedics rolled Lana toward the stairs. The policeman asking me questions held her note to me in his hand. I stared at that note. My mom stood there expecting answers much like the policeman. She began asking her own questions, but paused and looked at Chase and me standing there with a look I had never seen in her eyes. Then she turned and followed the paramedics out the front. My mom rode in the ambulance, and my dad followed it to the hospital. After I washed my hands and arms, I changed my shirt and found a T-shirt of my dad’s for Chase. He decided he would drive me; I was obviously in no condition to drive. As we walked out, Henry rode his skateboard up the sidewalk.
“What happened?” he asked horrified. Chase’s jeans were covered in blood.
“Lana had an accident,” Chase answered as he ushered me into his car. I appr
eciated his discretion. He didn’t say a word as we drove. He let me sit in silence—as silent as I could be with the world crashing in around me. Sometimes I felt as though I couldn’t breathe and just heaved several short jagged breaths. My face was a soggy mess. I just knew my contacts would pop out; I was surprised they were still intact.
When we arrived at the hospital, my mom and dad were nowhere to be seen. Chase led me to an area of seats where I fell into one. He held my hand as we waited. Finally, my mom and dad came out with a doctor, a tall Hispanic man with jet black hair. He looked like he had a deep tan, but I imagined that was his natural color. He appeared to be a little older than my parents. He was soft spoken, and I found that encouraging. He said she was stable. They’d given her blood transfusions and stitched her up, but she was heavily sedated and sleeping. Then they asked me what had happened. I wasn’t sure where to start, so I chose the beginning when I found out she was cutting. My dad sat with his arms crossed, and my mom lost it a few times in tears, which of course made me lose it. Once I was done, the questions came: Why didn’t I tell them? What did I think would happen? Did I think it would end well? What if I hadn’t checked on her? How could they not have seen this? Why didn’t she come to them? What would happen next? The doctor answered that question. She would be put on a 72-hour suicide watch, and none of us would be allowed to see her. Then if my parents chose, his recommendation would be to put her in a stress center where she could have therapy and round-the-clock supervision for a minimum of six weeks.
