“Thank you for telling me.” Skylar didn’t look me in the eye when she said it, and her words were so quiet I almost missed them.
I placed my hands on her shoulders. “I should have told you sooner. I just didn’t want you to ever see me as weak.”
Her eyes shifted to mine. “My mother left my father when I was three years old. He was touring in Europe, and she brought me home to the States. My father told me it took him one week before he completely fell apart, canceled the tour and came to find us. My mom didn’t take him back for six more months. Do you know why?”
I shook my head.
“Because he was messed up, Cody. And he had to fix himself before he could ever be the kind of father and husband he needed to be.”
I pointed to her house. “But he changed. He became that man.” I could, too, if she’d just give me more time.
“He did.” She touched her locket while a tear slid down her check. “But not because my mom took him back.”
She was going to rip my heart out. Right here on her back porch. I took her face in my palms and begged. “Don’t do this. Please, Skylar, it’s not the same.”
“It is.” Her voice cracked. She pulled my hands down and squeezed them. “It doesn’t matter if you take care of Lindsay or if you help me through this mess with the media. Or if you beat Blake in a round of wrestling or even win state. Until you face what happened to you. Until you move past it, you will never stop fighting.”
I spread my arms, frustration exploding inside every vein and muscle. “I’m fighting for us! I’m trying to be a better man. That’s all I’ve done since I met you.”
“But who’s fighting for Fatty James? You can’t erase him, Cody. He’s a part of who you are.”
I couldn’t look at her. “Don’t say that name.”
“Why not?” Skylar pulled me back, angled me until I met her eyes.
“Because he died on that locker room floor.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Skylar’s voice lowered as if calming a wild animal. Maybe she was. Maybe I’d finally lost it.
“That scared kid is just as alive as Lindsay is. And sooner or later you are going to have to face him. Just like I had to face the fact that no matter how much I wanted normal, I can’t have it. My mother is dead. My father has cancer. I will forever be a rock star’s daughter. There are things in life you cannot change, no matter how much you want to.”
I shook my head as if doing so would make her words not true. For the first time since I met Skylar, I didn’t want to be near her. Didn’t want to get lost in her eyes or buried in her smile. She didn’t understand. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not.” There was a heaviness in her tone that twisted my gut into a tighter pretzel. “I know you care about me. I know you want to be there for me. But you can’t. Not until you deal with the ghost inside you.” She hovered by the door, gripping the handle while I stood frozen.
“What about you? Us?”
“My father’s dying, Cody. That’s the only ‘us’ I can worry about right now.”
And with those words, she walked away.
SKYLAR
Cody left two hours ago, but my heart still felt like it’d been crushed into microscopic pieces. Did I make the biggest mistake of my life by letting him go? My father had told me that story a million times. And every time he said they wouldn’t have made it if my mom had let him stay.
In the end, that decision saved my father. I could only hope the same for Cody.
My phone buzzed for the fiftieth time. Zoe again. I pushed the phone away, watched it glow against the ceiling. When people found out about my dad, they changed. I didn’t want to know if my only girlfriend would join the list of many disappointments. More buzzing.
Zoe: School is not the same without you.
Zoe: I cried when I realized you had been dealing with this all alone.
Zoe: I’m your friend. Please don’t think your being famous changes that. I listen to pop music anyway.
A laugh bubbled in my chest. Zoe had the absolute worst taste in music. She was also a gossip and too easily enticed by popularity. And my being Donnie’s Wyld’s daughter was certainly something Madison would feast on. But as I sorted through our conversations, our gut-shaking laugher, how much she cared, even when we didn’t agree, I knew our friendship was worth the risk.
I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hey,” Zoe said, lengthening the word like she exhaled at the same time. “I’ve been so worried about you. The news and your dad, and gosh, Skylar, I’m so sorry he’s sick. I can’t believe you were going through this on your own. That must have been so hard.”
And with those words, I broke down for the second time that day.
“Oh, Skylar, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. Don’t cry. I won’t talk about it any more.” She sounded helpless, and it made me smile through the tears. She thought she’d said the wrong thing, but it was just the opposite. In Zoe’s long breathless sentence, she never once mentioned the band or the fame. I was simply her friend.
“It’s okay, really,” I said in a hoarse, cracked voice. “What are they saying at school?”
“Everyone is talking about it, but I didn’t tell them anything. Not that I knew anything.” She paused. “It’s brought out the worst in some people, though. I’ve seen a side of Blake that isn’t so pretty.”
I was shocked. If Zoe was anyone’s fangirl, she was his. “What did he do?”
“He’s just acting like y’all were best friends. And that he knew all about your little secret, which I know he didn’t because Blake would have told the whole school by now.” She inhaled a deep breath. “Did Cody know?”
I rubbed at my temples. “Yeah, he knew. He’s known since the first day. He recognized me.”
There was silence on the other line. From Zoe, it was a bit unnerving.
“He’s a good guy, Skylar. I’m sorry I ever said he wasn’t.” Her tone dripped with a mixture of remorse and sadness. “He could have totally capitalized on this. Been a super star by just knowing you. But he hasn’t said a word. Not one.”
Misery weaved through every one of my ribs. He was a great guy. And I let him go. “Thanks for telling me.”
As if she sensed my sorrow, she switched her tone to light and chatty. “So, I bought December’s Cosmo and, oh, Skylar, you could totally make this dress that’s in here.”
I closed my eyes and told myself to just say it. “Do you want to come over?” I rushed the words, so I didn’t have time to take them back. “My dad’s been wanting to meet you, anyway, since I talk so much about you.”
She responded with a squeal. “Yes! I’m dying to see your house and your room. And OMG, try on your clothes, not that they’ll go past my hips, but still.”
She stopped long enough for me to tell her that I’d send a car for her. She squealed again and proceeded to tell me about a scene from her favorite movie where two girls hung out of the top of the limo. I ended the call with the first smile I’d worn all day.
But, it didn’t last long. The resulting silence weighed on me. Heavy and unmoving.
My hand trembled as I played the first song Cody ever sent me. He had told me to look inside the music. And now that I knew the truth, I understood every heartbreaking word.
The song talked of being a prisoner in his own mind. Of walls tearing down only to rise again. Of scraping and clawing until every finger bled.
The agony of the melody grew bolder and louder as the drums pounded and pounded and then there was a crashing quiet before sweet softness of hope poured through an a capella brilliance. Cody’s text after the song hadn’t made sense at the time, Cody: You’re in the stillness.
I’d brushed it off. Thought it more of the same confusion.
I slid to floor, gripped the phone to my chest and prayed Cody would find that stillness in himself.
CODY
Everyone in the hall stopped and stared when I walked through the double doors
. They no longer saw the wrestler, the guy who’d been unceremoniously tossed from the inner circle. I’d been given a new label—the guy who dated Donnie Wyld’s daughter.
I strode down the hall, head high, shoulders straight. No one approached me, but the whispered questions floated through the air.
“Do you think he met her dad?”
“I heard he got to play Donnie’s guitar.”
That one almost made me smile. I was pretty sure Skylar’s dad would gladly remove my appendage if I touched his precious Fender.
The whispers stopped, and I looked up to see why. Lindsay was at her locker, a rare sight, pulling out textbooks. She had enough in her arms to avoid coming back there the rest of the day.
I closed the distance before she could run away. “Did you tell them?”
The sigh from her was deafening. She wasn’t shaking or crying. She didn’t even look rattled. Her movements were robotic, her shoulders slumped. She was a girl who’d given up.
Lindsay shut her locker. “Yes. I told them.”
“And what did they say?”
“They argued.” She looked up at me with empty eyes. “My mom said I needed to toughen up. That I was being too sensitive and that it couldn’t be that bad. Then she accused my father of babying me. Said it was his fault I didn’t have a stronger backbone. It’s what they do, Cody, fight, and all I did was give them more ammunition.”
Stunned silence engulfed me. She had to have been cryptic when she told. “Did you tell them everything? Did you show them the Twitter feed?”
She jutted her chin, her lips trembled. “No. I didn’t show them that I’ve been labeled ‘slut Barbie,’ nor that fourteen guys talked about what my body looks like naked while they supposedly had sex with me. No, Cody, I didn’t tell them everything.”
I lowered my voice. “What did you tell them?”
Lindsay’s eyes darted around, never making contact too long with the people who tortured her. “Just that some kids were saying mean things about me and spreading lies. I told them that Blake had been cruel, and how I’ve gotten a few prank calls.” She coughed out a sad, defeated laugh. “My mom actually asked me what I did to make him hate me. Told me to try and get him back.”
A second bell rang, and I clutched her arm to keep her from bolting. “Lindsay…” It was a plea and an apology in one.
Then the dam burst. She was a mess. A puddle of sobs so broken and gut wrenching, I wanted to burn my own soul for pushing too hard.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, cradling her to my chest. “We’ll tell someone else.”
“No.” She pushed away, and her face returned to that terrible mask of coldness, her eyes holding as much emotion as a corpse. “I’m done. I’m done with all of this. I’m sorry.” She walked away before I could find a response significant enough to change her mind.
I stood there, frustrated and helpless, and wished for once, I could catch a break.
Skylar’s abandoned locker stood out like a beacon of light. Maybe she was right. Maybe all of this was to force me to do the impossible.
If Lindsay wouldn’t tell her story, maybe it was time to tell mine.
*
I sat at an empty picnic table and furiously wrote out the fifth page of my confession. Only ten minutes left until lunch ended, and I was determined to cleanse my system of every horrific deed. I’d written the details of the two years I was bullied, including my nightmare on the locker room floor. I was too humiliated to give specifics, but recounted enough to hopefully put protection in place for others. I recorded every aggression I’d witnessed against Lindsay and what I knew about the Torments List.
The last page hurt almost more than the others. It disclosed all the pranks I’d participated in last year and this year. There was enough information on these sheets of wide-ruled paper to ruin me. But somehow, nothing seemed to matter more than telling the truth.
An overpowering scent of peaches and honey stopped my scribbling. Jill was at my side, seated, her back against the table I was using. I flipped the pages over.
“I’m busy,” I said, sliding away. She hadn’t even left an inch between our hips when she sat.
“I can see that.” She relaxed against the table and extended her long legs, crossing them at her ankles. “But I have something to say to you.”
Of course she did. And it probably included some slam about Skylar.
“You know, Blake has envied you since the beginning of junior year. I’d go so far to say he’s afraid of you.”
That got my attention. “You think Blake’s afraid of me?” I snorted. Nothing in our history together implied fear.
Jill faced me, propped her elbow up on the table and nervously played with her hair. “I do. That’s why you’ve always been kind of on the fringe. An outsider within the inner circle. He knew one day you’d break free. He knew you were the only one strong enough to do it.”
I shook my head, feeling the weight of my failure in every word I’d written. “A lot of good it’s done.”
Her eyes burned a hole through me. “That’s where you’re wrong. It takes people a while, but eventually they recognize a true leader. Even when his words hurt.”
She reached in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of blue paper. “I should have stopped Tom that day. And I should have been a better friend to Lindsay.” With that, the paper was in my hand, and Jill stood to leave. “Consider this my apology.”
The blue note crinkled in my fist while I watched her walk away. In that moment, I actually felt a twinge of respect. Maybe even forgiveness.
Slowly, I opened Jill’s apology and a rush of adrenaline pulsed through me. She’d just handed me the key: Her login and password along with the new URL for the Torments List. Two seconds later, I was past the firewall and staring at my name in bold black. A strange power engulfed me. I felt no compulsion to read the comments because, for the first time in my life, their opinion didn’t matter.
I packed up and walked, no, ran to the front office. I wouldn’t wait this time. I wouldn’t give Blake one second to figure it out.
Our school secretary, Mrs. Johnson, stepped around her oak desk to meet me at the counter. “Cody, you’re making a habit of being in here. What is it this time?”
“I’d like to see Principal Rayburn. It’s critical.”
She lifted a receiver hidden behind the counter and touched some buttons. “Cody James is here. Do you have minute to meet with him?” She eyed me chewing my nail, and I dropped my hand. “Seems important.”
Mrs. Johnson placed the receiver down and tilted her head toward the office.
I took off so fast, I was halfway to the back before I muttered a thank you.
“Come on in, Mr. James.” Principal Rayburn said through his open door.
I walked directly to his desk and slammed down the five pages I had written, the login ID sheet, and Jill’s note. “It’s all here. Everything you need.”
He slid over his half-empty Tupperware and spread out the pages, his eyes darting back and forth as he quickly read through them.
I took a breath. “There’s a website called the Torments List.” With that, I handed him my phone already set to the page.
He zoomed and clicked; his brow furrowed and released several times. He met my eyes, and I saw something in there that confirmed I’d done the right thing. Respect. “I’ve been trying to get my hands on this website for six years.”
I dropped into the chair, stunned. “You already knew about it?”
He pulled my sheet of login IDs from the bottom of the stack. “Rumors. Confessions from punished students, but none were ever able to back it up.” He tapped the page. “Nothing like this.”
“That’s because the Madison elite probably sent them a painful message right after they moved the URL and reset the passwords.”
He stared at me and I stared back. Neither of us said it, but somehow I think he knew I wanted to tell the truth months ago.
“Thank you.�
�� His words were so sincere I had to swallow and find something else to look at.
He handed back my phone. “A lot of this will end up being your word against theirs. But it will enable to me to put some fear into the offenders. Fear is a very powerful tool.”
Didn’t I know it. I’d spent years cowering in fear. I leaned my elbows on my knees. “What happens to me?”
He rubbed his chin. “I could kick you off the wrestling team for this stuff.”
I hung my head. “I know.”
“But I won’t.”
My eyes lifted to his, my heart pounding against my chest. This was the same man who was determined to show me his authority just weeks ago.
“I’m sorry about the Super 32. I think that punishment will suffice.”
A two hundred pound weight lifted off my shoulders. For the first time in months, it felt like I wasn’t fighting the battle alone.
*
By Friday, six of the ten people on my login list had been suspended. The other four, including Henry, were given in-school suspension for this being their first offense. The Torments List held all the proof Principal Rayburn needed, and even though it disappeared after the first suspension, there was a measurable change at Madison.
A stillness settled in the halls. A recognition that, for once, Blake didn’t have all the power.
SKYLAR
My father bowed, decked out in a new tux that actually fit his too thin frame. Hair styled and eyes bright, he made me forget the two weeks of media frenzy.
He’d outdone himself on our Friday date night, down to the dress I found in a big box this morning. The floor length chiffon gown was midnight blue with an elegant beaded bodice and was stunning enough for a princess at a royal ball.
It wasn’t a ball, though, just my eighteenth birthday, but Daddy couldn’t be convinced otherwise. He’d rented out a fancy Italian restaurant and a limousine for the occasion. My future prom date was going to have a lot to live up to.
I stepped past him and through the doors being held by our waiters. Candlelight lit the empty restaurant and soft music drifted effortlessly from a woman at the grand piano.
Sell Out Page 23
