He got another email from the school this morning. The subject line said Last Chance to Register! and there was a picture of happy young people with books walking across the green of the campus. The phrase Last Chance blinked on and off in his mind like a marquee. Last Chance! It didn’t feel like he ever had a chance, so he wasn’t sure how this could be the last one. Last Chance! Last Chance! Last Chance!
Jackie shuffles past Shane and sits at the table. Shane makes no sign that he notices her. His jaws move with slow directness, as though chewing the soggy-sweet mess into a paste is the most important thing in the world. She lifts the box of cereal and shakes it. A few crumbs rattle inside.
“There’s no cereal,” Jackie says.
Shane lifts the spoon to his mouth and takes another bite. “So cook something then.”
There’s a text from Kyle waiting for him when he gets back to his room. Auntie needs her cut from yr sales. Don’t make me come looking.
Shane tosses his phone on the desk, where the email from the school is still open. Last Chance! it shouts.
*
A sheet of gray sky billows over the community center. The breeze is hot like a hair dryer on his face. He’s been inside too long. He feels like the top layer of his skin has been peeled away, leaving his whole body raw. Shane flips up his hood and shoves his hands in his pockets.
A few guys around Shane’s age have draped themselves on the steps outside of the center. Lyndahl glances over at Shane, but when he sees who it is he turns back to his conversation with Robbie. Shane raises his arm in a wave. If anyone sees, they don’t let on. Shane lets his bag slip from his shoulder, feeling the weight dangle from his hand, imagining the package from Debbie sitting inside it like a stone fallen to the bottom of the lake. It would be so easy to walk away.
Shane sets his gaze on Robbie as he steps forward. “Hey, Robbie, what’s up?”
“Not much.” Robbie glances at his friends. They avoid Shane’s eyes.
“You boys need anything?”
“Not from you.”
“What does that mean?”
Lyndahl chimes in. “You know what that means.”
Shane frowns. He really has no idea but it’s starting to freak him out. Did David say something? Do they all know now? It doesn’t seem right. “I’m carrying for Debbie so … it’s the same as getting it there.”
Robbie shakes his head and looks down at the ground.
Shane tries Lyndahl and the others. “Anyone else?”
Lyndahl spits on the ground. The others shake their heads without looking up. Shane slips the strap of the bag back over his shoulder. His phone buzzes with a text. Shane looks down. It’s from Ashley:
DIE RAPIST ASSHOLE.
*
Shane sits in Roberta’s cramped office with his head in his hands. Roberta watches him closely from behind her desk.
“I can feel you looking at me.”
Roberta keeps her eyes on him, waiting for more. “I’m looking at you because I want you to know that I’m here for you. And because you came to my office, so …”
Shane lets his hands fall into his lap. “Don’t try to get in my head. Just tell me how I can get money for school.”
“I don’t think I would want to be inside your head these days.”
Shane looks up, trying to assess whether she’s making fun of him or just saying something true. Her face doesn’t give anything away.
“The school wants the deposit, and I don’t have it. I thought I could figure it out, but I can’t.”
Roberta seems thrown. “I thought you came to talk about Tara.”
He knows what she’s waiting for, but he’s not going to fall apart in front of Roberta. “I don’t need to talk about her. I feel like shit. It’s fine. There’s nothing I can do. I just need to get out of here, Berta.”
“I don’t know how you can say that.”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“No. You’re just trying to keep me here like everybody else.”
Roberta shakes her head. “Given what’s happened with Tara, I’m probably one of the only people who still want you to succeed, Shane.”
Shane stands up. “This is pointless.”
“People are saying Tara was sexually assaulted before she died.”
The back of Shane’s neck tingles like a Drift is coming. He does everything he can to hold it at bay.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“Should I be?” Shane’s hand drops from the handle of the door. “How do they know she was—”
“The police took some samples. There was damage.” Images of coroners with scalpels from TV shows swarm in Shane’s brain. Cotton swabs, blood, ziplock bags. Roberta presses her palms together, watching him closely.
“Do you think it was me?” Obviously she does. Why isn’t she kicking my ass?
Roberta takes a breath, choosing her words carefully. “I … know how much you want to go to school, Shane. But if you want my support, I need you to tell me you didn’t do it. Once I hear that, I’ll do everything I can. Maybe it was consensual?”
All the air comes out of him. Roberta thinks he raped Tara and she doesn’t care. She’s willing to vouch for him just because he’s smart. He knows DNA will keep him out of jail, but she thinks he’s a rapist and she’s not batting an eye. He feels sick.
“And if I did do it, would you want me to lie?”
Roberta blinks at him and gives him this look like, Why are you giving me a hard time? “I’m just saying that I have your back.”
Shane’s tongue runs over his dry lips. “So … you’ll believe me. No matter what.”
“We didn’t put this work into getting you accepted at school for nothing. This is just a delay. Next year isn’t the end of the world.”
Shane grips the edge of the door, thinking of all the times they talked and laughed and made plans for him in her office. She’s always been the cool one. Barely an adult, easy to talk to. Full of optimism. The corner of Roberta’s eye twitches. She just sold out a dead girl and all that’s visible is a twitch. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead. He’s never noticed how old they make her look. After a moment, Roberta’s eyes float down from Shane and settle on the mess of papers in front of her, like a helium balloon sinking from the ceiling after a party.
*
Shane walks down a laneway behind the center, hoping not to run into anyone. He wonders how long it took for Roberta to look up and notice he had left. Maybe she hasn’t even realized it yet. Maybe she’ll be there forever, looking at her papers as seasons pass and dust gathers on the surfaces of her furniture, like silt. One by one the hairs on her head will grow gray. Kids will come in and out of her office, spilling their guts to her, and she won’t say a word. She’ll keep all their secrets, and she’ll never call the cops or their parents or their elders. They’ll say she’s the best counselor they ever had.
“Look who it is.” Kyle and Ashley are standing at the top of some steps on the side of a portable that was set up as a temporary school library about fifteen years ago. Shane’s senses fire out like a net, gathering information in an instant to assess the situation and predict what’s next. Roberta would call it an “adaptation to trauma.” His tenth-grade science teacher called it the “fight or flight” instinct. It seemed like a no-brainer to Shane. Given the choice, he’d pick flight every time. If he could sprout wings from the knobby bones in his shoulders right this second, he wouldn’t hesitate.
Ashley stomps down the wooden steps. “You make me sick. Why would you even show your face around here!?”
Shane steps back. Rapist.
Ashley takes a swing at him, but Kyle holds her back. Her closed fist passes with a rush of air over Shane’s cheek. “Fuckin’ creep!” Ashley yells. “She was my bes
t friend!”
She was my friend too! Shane wants to shout back, but it’s not the time. Kyle’s arms are locked around Ashley, but the smirk on his face is daring Shane to give him a reason to let Ashley loose.
Shane takes off down the lane, imagining the crunch of gravel growing faint as his weight is lifted off the ground and his wings beat the air above him.
*
Shane spots the car sitting in front of his house from a block away. It stands out, black-and-white like a life-size porcelain zebra on their lawn. Jackie once bragged that the cops had never been to their house. But then Destiny died, and they had to come by a bunch of times. And then they brought Shane home after he found Tara.
Shane stops. Why are the cops at my house? As soon as the question occurs to him, panic starts kicking in his chest. There’s only one reason. If the cops only visit his house after a suicide, then …
Mom.
Shane’s whole body screams out for him to run home. To break down the door and demand to know what happened. But he forces his legs to take slow, measured steps. If the cops are there, then it’s already too late. He pulls his shoulders back. He would rather get there holding his head up. The cops have seen enough of his tears.
But when Shane gets closer, Jackie is standing on the porch talking with two officers. Alive. Jackie looks past the officers and locks eyes with Shane as if saying, You’re not safe here, my sweet boy. The officers have their backs to him. He can still get away. Shane spins around and runs. Every slap of his feet against the dirt sounds like:
WHAT-TO-DO
WHAT-TO-DO
WHAT-TO-DO
The answer is rattling around in his bag. Debbie. He hasn’t sold anything yet, but that doesn’t matter. He can propose to be her guy in the city. No one knows him there. He’ll dodge the cops here, go down to the city, get set up, and he’ll have her paid back in no time. YES—that’s it. He turns onto the road that leads to Debbie’s and picks up speed.
Debbie slides a fifty-dollar bill into the gap between her bottom teeth, clearing out a stringy bit of jerky from earlier in the day. When she’s done, she wipes her fingers on her sweats and smooths the fifty onto a stack of red bills.
Debbie looks up. “What, no coffee this time?”
“Nope. Too broke.” Shane tosses the packet of drugs on the counter in front of Debbie. The gesture feels less dramatic than it was when he imagined it on the way over. Debbie doesn’t even glance at it.
“What do you want me to do with that?”
Photos of Destiny and Tara cast looks of judgment at him from Debbie’s shrine. Shane is suddenly uncertain. Shane mumbles at the ground, “I can’t sell it.”
Debbie scowls. “That sounds like your problem, not mine. I need to get paid.”
“But nobody’s buying from me, Deb!”
“You can sell it and pay me, or you can keep it and bury it in the ground for all I care, but I still gotta get paid.”
Shane is drowning. Everything seemed so clear when he left the house, but now his mind is scrambled: a TV flashing between stations. He hears Jackie screaming when she found Destiny’s body, Roberta’s voice promising to believe him no matter what, Tara’s eyes pleading for him to stay, Uncle Pete telling him in a million ways that he will never be the right kind of man. But then there’s David, his face tilting up to kiss Shane, the sound of his breath like the hushing of rice stalks; David whispering I love you into his ear. It’s enough to make Shane feel the weight of his feet against the ground again.
He looks up at Debbie. “I have a better idea. And if it works, I’ll make way more for you than I ever could here.” Shane checks Debbie’s reaction. She’s listening. “I … if you loan me the money to get to the city, I could start selling for you at university. It’s gonna be full of rich kids and …”
Debbie barks out a “HA!” Just the one syllable to let him know she’s laughing before the scowl settles back on her face. “YOU’re gonna sell for me down in the city? You think the people who run shit down there are gonna let you open up shop?”
“Maybe.”
“What, you think because you got good grades and you got a little boyfriend that makes you special?” Debbie snorts and barks again, “HA!”
How does she know about me and David!? The TV in Shane’s brain goes nuts again: Tara hanging from the rafters; his sister lying dead, her face blue and something crusted around her mouth; Destiny’s floating feet when she danced jingle; Tara’s voice calling out, Please don’t leave!; his first beer with Uncle Pete in the summer sun; the cops at his front door; Ashley heartbroken, She was my best friend!
Kyle appears from behind the shed, and the mess in Shane’s head falls away. Everything makes sense. That’s how she knows. Kyle. It had to have been him. The only way Debbie could have found out is if Tara told Kyle that night. Kyle, the one who never made a secret of wanting her, the one who can’t handle hearing the word no …
“Word gets around, faggot,” Kyle sneers.
“What did Tara say to you?” Worry flickers over Kyle’s face. That’s all Shane needs to see. Shane takes a step forward. “It was you! You were with her that night. You did that to her.”
Debbie heaves herself up from behind the counter like a mama bear protecting her cubs. “Prove it.”
Debbie picks up a bat and walks toward Shane. “I was with my nephew all that night. And anybody that says different is a liar.” Shane backs away. “Now get me my money, before I send someone to beat it outta Jackie and that little butt buddy of yours.”
Shane dodges behind Debbie and reaches out to grab the photos of Tara and Destiny down from Debbie’s wall of death. The pictures tear a bit at the corners, leaving scraps pinned to the board, but it doesn’t matter. As long as Debbie doesn’t have them.
chapter twenty-four
Moths launch themselves out of the darkness like a nightmare blizzard, desperate to get to the buzzing light above David’s door. Shane has been here for hours, hiding in the bushes outside, waiting for night to fall and trying to figure out what his chances are that David might let him in. He hasn’t heard a word from David since the day of Tara’s funeral. Shane wouldn’t blame him if he slammed the door in his face.
The moths flock to the light, beating their wings against the white-hot bulb again and again until they can’t anymore. Doesn’t matter how much of a survivor you are, David thinks, something shitty is always coming for you. And you’ll survive it just like you survived the last one and the one before that until the really bad thing—the thing that can’t be beaten down or fought back—finds you. And that’s it. At least those moths die together while reaching for something bright.
Shane takes a step out across David’s yard and settles into the beat-up couch outside the back door. If he’s too scared to knock or text to let David know he’s here, at least Shane can come out in the open and let himself be seen. That way David can decide for himself whether or not he wants to come outside and meet him halfway.
After what must be an hour or more, the door squeaks open. David walks out with a bag of garbage held in front of him. Drips from the garbage darken the boards of the deck when he passes Shane. No words, no eye contact, no acknowledgment at all. That’s it. That’s my answer. Shane collapses into the lumpy, mildewed couch, straining for air. He’s tried to go home, he’s gone to Roberta, and even to Debbie. There is nowhere else to go. He is alone. Really alone for the first time in his life. Shane sobs into the fabric of the couch and grinds his face into it like a kid having a fit. After a moment, he feels his body begin to lift away in pieces like a boat splintering against a rocky cliff. It might be the beginning of a Drift but this feels darker, new. When an arm slips around his shoulders and draws his pieces together again, he expects to see Destiny. Dark eyeliner smudged at the corners, that lopsided smirk that could mean I love you or I’m just messing wit you. But it’s not her
. It’s David’s eyes —no trace of a smile—hovering beside him.
“How long have you been out here?” David asks.
The flood of relief drowns out the question. Shane curls into his lap. His body shakes with tears.
“How could they think I did that to her?”
David strokes his hair. “I know. Shhh … it’s messed up. But they can’t pin it on you. ”
A wave of tears takes him again. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
David kisses the top of his head and whispers into his ear. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything. I got you now.”
The two sit in silence for a long time. David closes his eyes and runs his fingernails over Shane’s scalp. After a while, Shane stops trembling and his breathing becomes regular. It feels right to be held by David. The night air strokes their skin, cooling all except the places where their bodies press against each other, alive there with damp summer heat.
*
Evie is camped out in front of the flickering blue fire of the TV. The door creaks open behind her. “David?” Evie calls.
David comes in and snuggles beside her while Shane stays glued to the shadows beside the open door, waiting for a moment when Evie’s distracted enough not to notice him sneak in.
“Did you talk with Janice about selling our rice at the store?” Evie asks.
“Ah, no … not yet. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
The cordless rings from Evie’s lap, making her jump. “Oh!” She laughs. “I forgot I put that there.” Evie raises the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” She frowns. “Anybody there?”
David watches her face. “Why don’t you just hang up?”
Evie tilts her head and fumbles with the holes in the afghan the way she used to do with the telephone cord before David replaced it with the new one a year ago.
Fire Song Page 14
