by Kieran Scott
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”
“Ty—”
“You’re breaking up with me? You’re breaking up with me?” he shouted, sauntering toward me across the stained brown rug. “I defended you to your bitch of a mother! I took you in! And now, when I’m fired and have nothing to do and need you, you’re breaking up with me?”
“You didn’t exactly need me tonight when I made you dinner and you decided to ditch out and get drunk instead!” I blurted, grabbing my bag off the floor. My whole body trembled in fear, in disgust, in regret. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
“Oh, it’s always about you, isn’t it?” Ty shouted, his face turning purple.
“It’s not about me! It’s about you, Ty. What you want, what you need,” I replied, my voice cracking. “You didn’t take me in because you loved me or wanted to help me. You took me in because it made you feel good to shove it in my mother’s face. You don’t care about me. If you did, you wouldn’t come to my school and humiliate me in front of the entire courtyard! You wouldn’t storm screaming into the library and tell off my boss! All you care about is yourself and your job and your friends.”
“That’s not true,” Ty said, spittle forming on his lips.
I drew myself up straight. “Fine. Then tell me one thing you love about me. Tell me one thing you even like.”
Ty’s face softened as he looked me up and down, an appreciative gleam in his eye. “You’re—”
“And don’t say I’m beautiful or sexy or something,” I interjected. “Something else. Something real.”
He clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed. He was pissed, because he’d been caught. And he had no other answer.
“I’m outta here,” I said.
I shoved the door open and speed-walked down the hallway toward the stairs.
“Fine!” Ty shouted after me, needing to get in the last word. “Just go! I can do better than you anyway, you little—”
I could imagine what he said next, but I didn’t hear it. The door to the stairwell had already slammed behind me, and I was gone.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
True
“This has to be their last song, right?” I said, clutching the handle on the back of Hephaestus’s wheelchair. Charlie smiled as he pounded the drums, having the time of his life. I was happy for him. He’d stood up for himself and was feeling that high. Not to mention the obvious rush he got from immersing himself in the music. But even more importantly, he’d dumped the deadweight Darla. He was now free to find his true love. It was happening. It was finally happening. “What do I do? What do I say?”
“Will you just relax? It’s a party,” Hephaestus replied. “And your friend there is a pretty stellar drummer.”
“I knew that already,” I replied, sweat prickling under my arms. I glanced around at the laughing faces, the jostling bodies, the raised cups. “It’s hot in here and there are too many people. And why isn’t Katrina here? She should be here.”
“First of all, Katrina doesn’t exactly run with this crowd, in case you hadn’t noticed. Or have you still not figured out how high school works?” Hephaestus checked out a pretty girl in a tight purple shirt as she sauntered by. “And secondly, you can’t just sit on your cloud and observe from afar anymore. Humanity is everywhere. Deal with it.”
“Ugh. Maybe I won’t thank Harmonia for sending you,” I replied.
The song came to a crashing, slamming climax, and everyone in the room cheered. The fat kid behind the microphone leaned in, his upper lip glistening. “Thank you! We are Universal Truth! Good night!”
More applause. Then he grabbed the mic again. “Oh, and we’re available for sweet sixteens and bar mitzvahs. Please come up and sign your name to our e-mail list for more information.”
There was a loud peel of feedback that sent everyone groaning until someone finally hit the power.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Hephaestus, pushing my way through the crowd.
Charlie shook hands with the other guys in the band and chatted with the singer. When I got to the “stage,” he turned around and his whole face lit up at the sight of me. To my surprise, I felt flattered. It was nice that he was so glad to see me.
“Charlie! You were incredible!” I told him, beaming.
“Thanks! They’re not bad, huh?” He glanced over his shoulder at the other guys, who were huddling in the corner now. “They said they might have a spot for me. Apparently, the kid who was sick tonight ditches all the time so . . . I guess his loss is my gain.”
I grinned. “That’s great. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks.” Charlie’s eyes darted past me as Hephaestus arrived at my side. “Is Katrina with you?”
I reached for Hephaestus’s shoulder and clamped down hard, hardly daring to hope. “No. Why do you ask?”
“I have to talk to her.” He whipped out his phone and started texting, then shoved it back in his pocket. “Screw this, do you know where she lives?”
My hands clasped in front of my heart. He’d chosen not to text? I was so proud of him I felt like I could burst. “Yeah. She lives with that boyfriend of hers. Ty.”
“Oh.” Charlie’s face drooped, but only for a second. He cleared his throat and shoved the drumsticks into his back pocket. “Do you know where he lives?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Wait a minute, not Ty Donahue,” Hephaestus said.
I squinted at him. “Yeah, I think that’s his name.”
“That’s her boyfriend?” Hephaestus asked, rolling his eyes. “I can find out where he lives.” His eyes flicked over Charlie appraisingly. “You sure you want to go there?”
“If that’s the way it has to be, that’s the way it has to be,” Charlie said. “But we’d better go now, before the performance high wears off and I lose my nerve.”
“My van’s outside,” Hephaestus said, backing up. “I’ll drive.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Charlie
My heart was pounding, my throat was dry, and my palms were wet with sweat. I rolled the drumsticks between my hands, trying to stay calm, trying not to think about how thoroughly my ass was about to be kicked. Ty was twice my size and, from the look of him, probably a lot more street-smart. I glanced sideways at Heath behind the wheel of his modified van. He seemed pretty tough. And I already knew True could throw down. But I didn’t want to have to ask them for backup. This was my fight.
I also didn’t want to look like a wuss in front of Katrina.
Heath pulled the van to a stop at the front walk of a square gray apartment building just as Ty came storming out. I gulped.
“Stay in the car,” I said, opening the door. “I can handle this.”
“Good luck,” True said. Somehow, those two words bolstered me. Because I guess she could have said, Are you kidding? or Your funeral.
“Hey,” I said to Ty as my sneakers hit the sidewalk.
He did a double take. His eyes were watery and red, and his fist was clutching some kind of cloth. After a second look, I realized it was the blue scarf with the fringe—the one Katrina always wore to school. It took him a second, but he finally recognized me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he spat, squaring off with me.
“Is Katrina here?” I asked, trying as hard as I could not to shake in my Converses.
Ty laughed. “Are you the reason she broke up with me?”
“She broke up with you?” True blurted, sliding open the back door of the van.
“Oh, great. The whole freak show is here,” Ty said.
“Where is she?” I asked again.
“She went home,” Ty replied, looking me up and down. “Which is where I’m going right now. To get her back. You can back the fuck off.”
He turned and walked off toward his black Firebird, which was parked haphazardly at the curb a block away. I got back in the van and slammed the door. True slammed hers as well.
“I can’t b
elieve she broke up with him,” she breathed. “It’s all happening.”
“What’s she talking about?” I asked Heath. Ty peeled out, his engine roaring as he sped past us. He didn’t flick his headlights on until he was blocks away. Then he took a right turn at a haphazard, wide angle.
“Ignore her,” Heath said, throwing the van into first. “Want me to follow him?”
“Definitely,” I replied.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Katrina
“Mom?” I called, closing the door behind me. My voice broke and my mother appeared at the top of the basement stairs, folding a pink-and-white scrubs shirt.
“Katrina?” She seemed shocked to see me. “Why are you crying?”
She didn’t move toward me, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I tromped right over to her, flung my arms around her, and just cried. After a second she put her arms around me, too. I could smell the fabric softener as the shirt pressed against my neck.
“I’m sorry,” I said into her shoulder. “I just broke up with Ty and I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You did?” Her voice sounded hopeful, and it sparked something defiant inside me.
“Yeah, why? Are you psyched?” I asked, pulling away.
“If it means you’re coming home, then yes,” she replied, her dark eyes wide.
I turned away, wiping my cheeks with both hands. “Why? It’s not like you want me here.”
“Oh, please, Katrina. Not this again.” She hung the shirt on the railing and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s you who never wants to be here.”
“Why would I?” I shouted. “All you ever do is yell at me and criticize me!”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s not true!”
“Yes, it is! You yell at me for making too much noise, for forgetting one time to go to the supermarket, for calling you with good news!” I rambled. “I don’t do enough around the house, I don’t get good enough grades, I don’t give you credit for how much you do. You want too much from me! It’s impossible, Mom! I’m just a kid!”
I started to sob then, my tears mixed with huge gulps of air, my hands clutching my shirt at my waist. Somehow, I hadn’t even realized I felt that way until the words had popped out of my mouth. I’d spent so much time acting like I was fine, taking care of myself, feeling all grown-up and sophisticated when I moved in with Ty. But I was just a kid, still, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I supposed to be?
“I know Dad used to do all this stuff for you because you work so much, but I can’t do it all,” I continued. “And then there’s school and work and my friends and Ty. . . . It’s too much! And I miss him too, Mom. I miss him too.”
By now I was on my knees on the floor. I felt as if I’d never cried before. As if every tear was being wrenched out of me right now and they would never, ever stop.
“Oh, Katrina,” my mother breathed.
And then she was on the floor in front of me, her knees even with mine. She wrapped her arms around me awkwardly, and we leaned into each other. It took me a minute to realize that she was crying too, just as hard as I was.
“I’m so sorry, Katrina,” my mother said, sniffling. “I didn’t realize . . . I put too much pressure on you, I guess. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” I said automatically.
“No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I—I’ll take a few days off. Maybe we should talk to that man at your school. Dr.—”
“No. Not him,” I said.
She blinked. “Okay, but someone. I know some people through the hospital. They offered me grief counseling last year, but I—”
“Didn’t want to talk about it,” we said at the same time.
We shared a wavering smile.
“I’m thinking that maybe wasn’t such a great idea.”
I nodded and wiped my eyes. “Maybe not.”
Suddenly the front door opened and Ty stood there, his shoulders practically filling the doorway. He took one look at us and sneered. My favorite scarf, the blue-and-white one my dad had given me on my fourteenth birthday, was clutched in his fist.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked, scrambling to my feet.
“I came to take you home.” He crossed the room in two long strides and grabbed my arm with his free hand.
“I am home,” I replied, squirming from his grasp.
“Yeah, right.” He latched onto me again, harder this time. “Let’s go.”
“Get off of her!” my mother shouted, trying to pry us apart.
“Don’t touch me,” he spat at her. “We’re going.”
“No, we’re not!” I replied. “Let go of me, Ty.”
The doorway darkened. I could hardly even wrap my brain around what I was seeing. It was Charlie, and he was staring at Ty’s hand on my arm.
“You again?” Ty chuckled.
“Let go of her, man,” Charlie replied.
Then Ty did let go of me. He dropped my scarf and took a swing at Charlie. I screamed as his fist cracked against Charlie’s jaw. He fell into the couch, and I was just going to see if he was okay when he shoved himself up and hit Ty so hard in the stomach that Ty hit the ground.
“Charlie!” I shouted, stunned. My mother grabbed the phone and dialed.
Charlie looked down at his fist. “I—I didn’t even know I was going to do that.”
“How did you do that?” I asked.
His eyes were wide as he looked at me. “I guess I learned something growing up with two big brothers.”
Ty pushed himself up to his knees, clutching his stomach. “You. Are so dead,” he said between gasps.
“I’d rethink that if I were you,” my mother replied. “I’ve already got the police on the line.” She spoke into the phone. “Yes, my daughter’s ex-boyfriend is here, and he’s making threats.”
“That’s your cue to leave,” Charlie said to Ty.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ty said.
My mother covered the receiver. “You want me to tell them you actually hit this boy? That you laid hands on Katrina?” she hissed.
“For the second time,” Charlie put in, rubbing his jaw.
“What?” Mom blurted. “Katrina?”
I looked away. The last thing I wanted to do right now was try to explain what had happened at school that day.
“Get out of here now or I’m pressing charges,” my mother told Ty. I’d never seen her look so fierce. Her teeth were clenched and her grip on the phone so tight it was like she was trying to strangle it.
Ty looked around at the three of us.
“Ma’am?” I heard a voice saying though the phone. “Ma’am? Are you still there?”
“Fine,” Ty said finally. “Screw you.” Then he looked me right in the eye. “Never call me again.”
Like that was going to be an issue. I had a feeling that in some way, Ty really did love me. At least he thought he did. But his kind of love wasn’t good enough. Not anymore. He walked out and slammed the door behind him.
“Yes,” my mother said into the phone. “I’m still here.” She gave my hand a squeeze, then walked into the kitchen, where we couldn’t hear her.
“Are you okay?” Charlie asked me, running his hand gently down my arm. I stared down at my scarf on the floor, my bottom lip quivering.
“I’m fine,” I said as one tear rolled down my cheek. “Except I feel like an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.” He dipped down to pick up the scarf and held it gently with both hands. “I am.”
“What do you mean? You just saved me.” I glanced at the door. “How exactly did that happen, anyway?”
“Long story,” Charlie said. “And I’m an idiot because there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you since the first time I saw you.”
“What?” I asked.
“You deserve way better than that guy,” he said, chucking a thumb over his shoulder.
I laughed and looked h
im in the eye, my throat tight. “I know.”
Slowly Charlie smiled. He hooked his pinky around mine and tugged me toward him. My heart caught, and I suddenly realized that I had dried tears under my eyes, that my nose was swollen, that my hair was sticking to my neck. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything other than him. And as he gently slipped my scarf around my shoulders, I somehow knew that he felt the same way about me.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
True
“Now that is the kiss of true love,” I said with a sigh.
Standing on the sidewalk a few steps down from the living room window was not the best vantage point, but I could see enough, and I knew. Charlie and Katrina were in love. I knew it in my swollen, pounding heart and the lightness within my lungs. A lightness that felt a lot like relief. When they parted, Charlie pulled Katrina to him, and she rested her cheek against his chest, her eyes closed, her lips curled into a sweet, contented smile.
“You about done now, voyeur?” Hephaestus asked, rubbing my back.
“Yeah. Let’s go,” I told him as Charlie and Katrina settled down on the couch together. “I have a feeling Charlie’s going to stay a while.”
• • •
Back home, I tore up the stairs and into my room. The timer had turned, the top filled once again with red sand. I squealed and twirled in the center of my room, tilting my head up to the sky.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
In my mind I pictured Harmonia, knowing she was looking down on me and doing a happy dance too. But if Zeus thought the gratitude was meant for him, even better. I was done being proud. After seeing that kiss between Charlie and Katrina, all I could think about was my first kiss with Orion, and what it would feel like to kiss him again.
• • •
I hovered among the trees outside the home we’d made for ourselves in Maine, cloaked from view, and watched Orion as he tore through the woods, his steps swift and silent, his eyes focused on his prey, a lone gray deer. Gripped in one hand was the bow I’d brought for him, the arrow poised, but not taut. He was waiting for his moment.
