Keep Me Still

by Caisey Quinn

  “Hmm.” I bite my lip before taking another drink of my syrupy sweet punch. And then I inhale deeply to gather all of my courage. “I think I’m going to need further explanation of these benefits you speak of.”

  Landen flinches with shock and I stare him straight in the eye, still hoping to convey my thoughts telepathically. I’m ready.

  “This was fun but I’d like to discuss my benefits package privately,” I tell him. Truthfully, I can feel the angry glares of Jena and her friends as they huddle nearby. And I want the kiss he owes me from earlier, but not in front of anyone. It’s ours and I’m not sharing.

  We dance for over an hour, and it takes all the self-control I have not to throw her over my shoulder and sprint to my truck when Layla says she’s ready to go.

  As it is, I’m walking pretty damn brisk-like and practically dragging her behind me. She’s giggling so I think she’s okay with it.

  The double metal doors are all that stand between me and heaven. That is until Cam, DW, and Brent Becker cut us off.

  “What the fuck did you say to my sister?” the very angry center for the Hope Springs varsity football team demands. Aw hell.

  “I told her I wasn’t interested and that I have girlfriend, obviously.” I nod back toward Layla, who’s damn near cowering behind me. I will not fight in front of this girl. I will not fight in front of this girl. It becomes my mantra and I cling to it as I focus on controlling my breathing. But Brent’s all bowed up and I can tell Cam and DW know what’s coming. They came to try and stop him but neither one will do much more than try.

  “Listen, I don’t want my sister dating the faggot-ass kicker. But if she likes you, you’d be lucky for her to give you the time of day.”

  I. Will. Not. Fight. In. Front. Of. This. Girl.

  My fists clench and I take a deep breath. “You’re right, but lucky for you, the faggot-ass kicker is taken.”

  Brent’s jaw ticks a few times and I know he’s itching to punch me. Feeling’s mutual, buddy. But Cam and DW pull him back, and he whirls around and punches the metal doors instead. The impact rattles my bones and I’m thankful that it wasn’t my face that took the brunt of the blow. Not that I haven’t taken much worse.

  I don’t know if there is a glitch in the space-time continuum or what the hell happens but time literally slows. A gust of outside air flies in as Brent storms out, and I turn to tell Layla we’ll go out a different way so dude doesn’t get the impression I’m following him, looking for a fight. But she isn’t behind me. Or rather, she isn’t standing behind me.

  “Layla?” I scream, dropping hard to my knees. She’s on her back on the floor, tremors rocking her body, turning into full-on convulsions. And I’m fucking helpless and panicking. Her eyes roll back in her head and I grab her to me.

  “Call a goddamn ambulance, 911, or what the fuck ever,” I scream at DW and Cam but I don’t wait to see who pulls out their cell phone first. Something warm and wet leaks onto the floor around her. I want to cuss the universe but I know that won’t help her. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. Never been so scared. Even when my dad wrestled me down and kicked and hit me until I blacked out. And I was only ten then. Up until now it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It’s not even a close second to this.

  “Shh,” I whisper in her ear, trying to drown out the sound of Cam calling it in. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay, Layla.” Because you have be. I need you to be, dammit. “I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay. I got you,” I keep murmuring over and over in her ear until finally she goes still.

  We’re surrounded by teachers and chaperones and students, and I know now this is what they were talking about with the Freaky Flaherty shit. And I want to burn the motherfucking gym down Carrie style knowing this has happened before and they made fun of her for it. If I weren’t here, who would be holding her? Or would she just be a spectacle for them to gawk at?

  The Colonel’s voice answers me. If you weren’t here, this wouldn’t be happening at all .

  I wake up in a gown I don’t have any recollection of putting on under a thin blanket and the nauseating glow of fluorescents. Great.

  The back of my head hurts like someone took a hammer to it, so I ease off the pillow. Aunt Kate stands and crosses the room, looking tired and ten years older than she is.

  “No,” is all I say when I see Landen dozing in a chair next to me.

  “You’re okay, Layla. It was a bad one, but you’re fine.”

  “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay, Layla. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay. I got you,” I hear in my head even though Aunt Kate isn’t talking.

  “Oh my God,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. It happened again, in front of everyone just like freshman year. Even worse, it happened in front of him. Tears burn in my eyes but I choke them back. Shame shoves my head down and I wish Landen wasn’t here so I could cry in peace.

  “You’re awake,” he says groggily. The clock across from me is blurry but judging from the placement of the hands, I’m pretty sure it’s a little after midnight. I’m hooked up to an IV but I know from previous experience it’s just to keep me hydrated. A heart monitor is clamped on my finger and the machine beeps steadily. Guess it’s not programmed to recognize when a heart is breaking.

  “I didn’t want you to know,” I whisper, and Aunt Kate nods and gives me a weak smile as she backs out of the room.

  “Layla,” Landen says, standing and coming closer. “I already knew. Alexis Whatsherface told me my first week here.”

  His words are supposed to comfort me. I can tell by his expression, but they ruin everything. Well, they ruin whatever was left after my spectacularly humiliating meltdown.

  “Landen,” I croak out, wishing I had some water. “Please go.” I close my eyes because I’m drained and exhausted and don’t have the strength to handle the hurt on his face.

  It all makes sense now. Understanding dawns on me, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together so loudly it’s a wonder I don’t have another episode. That’s why me out of all the girls he could’ve chosen. Same reason he bought old Clyde dinner at Our Place. Landen’s a bleeding heart looking for charity cases to rescue.

  “Layla, what did I—”

  “I’ll call the nurse and have you removed. Go.” My energy is fading fast and I’m running out of strength to hold back my tears of weakness, of defeat. I tried to hide from what I was and I lost. It found me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I am what I am. Can’t hide it forever.

  Landen doesn’t move. He just stares at me open-mouthed and wide-eyed. I clamp my fingers down on the red call button and a beep echoes overhead.

  “Do you need something?” a woman’s voice echoes through the speaker, and I almost break down right then. Yes, I need a different life. One where my parents don’t get gunned down in front of me, one where I don’t have seizures that cause me to spaz out and piss myself in front of the whole freaking school. And lastly—listen close, universe—one where the boy I’m falling in love with doesn’t date me out of pity.

  “I’m going,” he mumbles, ambling away from me like I’ve kicked him. “Call me when you feel better, okay?”

  I force myself to nod, even though I know I won’t. “Can I have some water please?” I ask into the air the once he’s gone.

  I hang on until the nurse brings the water. “Thank you,” I say, wanting to tell her to send my Aunt Kate home too. But I don’t. And I don’t even take a drink of the water she brought because I’m at war fighting off my tears as soon she’s out the door.

  She woke up in the hospital and the first thing she did was kick me out. If she didn’t look so weak and exhausted, I would’ve put up more of a fight. But it was clear, for whatever reason, the only thing she wanted when she finally woke up was for me to get the hell away from her.


  I storm out of the hospital in a blind rage. I need to find Brent Becker. Or pray the Colonel’s home and go there and piss him off good. I need to hit. To be hit. To kick and fight and hurt and be hurt. I need the kind of pain that makes sense. The kind the cuts and bruises and breaks bones. Not this fucking internal shit that twists and aches and makes me insane. And helpless. If this night has a theme, it’s ‘Landen O’Brien is a worthless, helpless piece of shit that ruins everything.’ Maybe that’s the theme of my life.

  Somehow, through my rage-filled haze, I make it to the party at the Alexis chick’s house hoping Becker’s here. I barely paid attention when they gave me directions at the dance, but it’s not hard to find with the dozens of cars parked out front. Leaving my truck parked sideways on the lawn, I make my way inside. Some guys are arguing in the doorway. A few others are playing quarters at a poker table, and several couples are practically fucking on the couches. But I couldn’t give a shit about any of them.

  A thrill runs through me at the thought of Becker hitting me as hard as he did those doors because I’m a twisted motherfucker like that. Maybe he’ll really mess me up and I can get put in the same room as Layla. She can’t kick me out if I’m in traction.

  “Becker?” I roar when I can’t find the lardass son of a bitch. Jena steps out of the kitchen instead. Wrong Becker. I tell her so.

  She kind of looks like she’s been crying but I couldn’t care less. “Where’s Brent?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

  “He didn’t do it on purpose, Landen. It’s not his fault.” She’s pleading but I don’t care.

  “You need to go,” Alexis says as she comes closer. “Let me or DW or someone drive you home.” She presses against me, placing a hand on my chest.

  “Get the fuck away from me, you stupid bitch,” I say and instantly I regret it. And not just because she recoils like I’ve slapped her. I don’t talk to women that way—any women. And I’d kick the shit out of any guy who did.

  But before I have time to apologize, Brent Becker comes out of a bathroom with his hands up. But not in the way I want.

  “Chill, O’Brien. My bad, okay? I didn’t know that would happen. I don’t even know that girl.”

  “That girl,” I begin through gritted teeth, charging him like a bull with rabies, “is in the fucking hospital right now because you had to act like a fucking—“

  “I punched a door, man. Usually people don’t fall out just because someone punches a door.”

  “And you wanted to punch me. You should have. Here’s your chance.”

  I watch as he contemplates this. Do it already.

  He doesn’t. He lowers his hands. Fuck.

  Guess I’ll have to try harder. “I’m sorry, Alexis. What I said was rude. The stupid part, I mean. The bitch part was well-deserved.” Surely he’ll hit me now. But apparently he doesn’t care as much about Alexis as his sister I guess. So I turn my focus back to him. “And I’m sorry I didn’t want to take you’re slutty sister to Homecoming.”

  That does it. He hits me so hard I see spots. I swing once, grazing him as he dodges me, but on the second swing I connect. He shoves me backwards until I fall and hear the satisfying sound of glass breaking. I roll us away from the shards, hitting and kicking for all I’m worth. Which, truthfully, isn’t a whole hell of a lot.

  All around us squeals and screams and shouts ring out as everyone realizes there’s an all out brawl taking place in the middle of the room. Becker lands a right to my jaw and it clicks. I clutch the collar of his polo and pull his head to mine. Hard. “Agh,” he moans in pain from the unexpected headbutt. I see stars but I’m thinking clearly for the first time.

  Damn. This isn’t going to help Layla. This is only going to help me. But I’m too far-gone to stop now. Oh well. Hindsight and all that shit I guess.

  I slug Becker twice more and try to get up but our legs are tangled so crashing back down I go.

  He slams my head against the hardwood floor twice before someone pulls him off me.

  I’m yanked swiftly to my feet and wrapped from behind by someone towing me toward the door.

  “Dude, you okay? That’s a lot of fucking blood.” Cam releases me roughly once we reach my truck.

  “I’m fine.” I spit the blood out of my mouth and wipe it with the back of my shirtsleeve.

  “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, man, but remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  “You’re already on it,” I inform him.

  “Yeah? Well that sucks because I actually like you. Even though you are obviously majorly fucked up. Guess you and Freaky Flaherty deserve each other.”

  Well, so much for going home.

  When they finally pull me off of Cam, we’re both bloody and spent. And I’m under arrest.

  “Layla, sweetie?” I open my eyes to see my aunt standing over me. Her hair is a mess, which is so unlike her it’s startling.

  I’m so grateful to be home in my own bed instead of in that hospital that I never want to get up. I was discharged early this morning and I’ve already slept through lunch. I should probably eat something but the thought of food sends a wave of nausea rolling hard and fast over me. “I’m getting up,” I tell her, using all my might to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The room tilts slightly and I take as many slow, deep breathes as I can manage.

  “Um, you might want to stay put a sec,” she says, lowering herself on the mattress next to me.

  “What’s going on?” I know they ran a ton of tests at the hospital like they always do, but surely I don’t have life-threatening results back this quickly.

  “It’s Landen,” she answers quietly, stroking my hair.

  “Oh God.” I can already hear the rest of her statement. He’s been in an accident, he’s paralyzed, he’s dead. He was gunned down by muggers when he left the hospital. I shrink into myself and try to steel my nerves for whatever’s coming.

  “He’s been arrested.”

  Well. That’s…unexpected.

  “Arrested?” My mind conjures images of what I’ve seen on Cops . Him cuffed and being shoved into a police car. My sweet, hurt Landen whose heart I shattered into a million pieces last night. Because mine was.

  “Apparently he had an…altercation with the boy from the dance. And then a different boy who was trying to break it up.”

  “Where is he now?” I ask, picturing him alone in a filthy jail cell, trapped behind bars.

  “His parents picked him up. But I have a friend who works as a bailiff and does some corrections stuff, and he said Landen’s dad was livid, almost to a point where he had to be restrained himself.”

  Guilt washes over me, and a cold, hard lump constricts my airway. If I’d just sucked it up and let him stay at the hospital last night, none of this would’ve happened. I must look as awful as I feel because Aunt Kate scoots closer. Her next words don’t make any sense.

  “Lay, does Landen ever talk much about his dad?”

  “Um, no,” I answer, scanning my mind for anything Landen has said about his dad. “Just that he’s a Colonel in the Army and pretty much forces him to play football. He never comes to any of Landen’s soccer games, but that might be because he has to work.”

  I’ve been to every one of Landen’s games. I’ve met his mom, a petite, attractive woman with dark hair like her son, but his dad is never there. I’ve only seen Colonel O’Brien at the few home football games I’ve been to. But Landen didn’t introduce us. I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that’s going to help me think. It kind of does.

  “I don’t think they get along too well. Landen tenses up every time he’s mentioned.”

  “Hmm.” Aunt Kate uses her gaze to put distance between us and my empty stomach twists tightly.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

 
“Oh, nothing. Just curious about their situation.” She strokes my hair once more and stands, smoothing her pale blue oxford button-up. “Listen, I’ve made you some oatmeal and toast, and there’s juice in the fridge. Get some rest and we’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow. I think school is out for this week.”

  “No,” I say, forcing my weak body to stand. “I’m going to school tomorrow. If I start doing this, letting this keep me from school, you know what will happen. It’s happened before.”

  “Layla, I know you’re upset. And I’m sorry, truly I am. But school really isn’t an option or even a priority right now. We have an appointment with a specialist tomorrow morning and some lab tests on Tuesday. And honestly…” Aunt Kate bites her lip. Whatever else she has to say, she’s not too excited about. That makes two of us.

  She takes a deep breath and speaks in a rush. “I’d like you and Landen to take a breather. You’ve been hanging out a lot and you’re both going through some things you need to deal with before going any further with your relationship or friendship or whatever you kids are calling it these days.” Her smile is forced and I can’t even muster an attempt at one in return.

  “I don’t think that’s an issue. Pretty sure whatever it was is over.” Not that being Landen O’Brien’s latest charity case didn’t have its perks.

  “Well, then, I’m sorry about that too. He seems like a nice enough boy, though this violent streak that apparently runs in the family isn’t exactly something I find endearing.”

  Violent streak? My mind can’t even reconcile the sweet boy who stood up for me and saw me when no one else did with a violent version. My vision swims from the strain of trying. “I’ll come down later,” I tell her, curling back into my covers. Maybe I can just sleep this whole mess away.

  But as soon as I sink down into the depths of unconsciousness, he’s there. Bloody and bruised. Broken. And alone. Like me.