To Know Me (The Complete Series, Books 1-4)

by Marcy Blesy

  “You won’t regret it.” He sets me down and kisses me, his hot breath meeting my flushed cheek. Like a sign from above, the sky crackles with lightening and lets loose. We run through the courtyard to the safety of the school. Principal Williams holds open the door.

  “I’d like to meet you in the office, Ms. Tatum,” he says. “In five minutes.”

  “I don’t know what that’s all about,” says Ty as Mr. Williams turns toward the office. “He’s picking on you because there’s no more dirt to find on the rest of us. You’ll be fine.” I must look anxious because Ty squeezes my hand as I turn to go. “And you look completely adorable when you let your hair down. See you soon.” He kisses my cheek again. I smile inside because to show him how happy I am feeling right now would be a betrayal to all that I’ve been trying to protect this last year. It’s not fair to let him into my world when I can’t.

  I stop in the girl’s restroom on my way to the office. My face is streaked with mascara from the rain. I have my dad’s freckles. We are the only ones on his side of the family with them except for some distant great-great grandmother, we’d been told. Nobody expected that I’d have freckles. Grandma said it was a blessing. I don’t feel blessed. I wash my face, add a little lipgloss from my purse, and stand near the hand dryer to dry out my wet shirt. I have no idea what Principal Williams wants.

  “Mae,” says Mrs. Baker when I enter the office. “How have you been getting along?”

  “Fine, thanks,” I say.

  “Mr. Williams told me you’d be down. Sign in here, dear.” When I bend over to sign my name, she leans in close and says loudly, “That’s right, Mae. Sign right here.” Then she whispers, “He’s nothing but a busybody. Smile and do whatever he says, and you’ll be just fine.” I don’t understand, but I nod. “Thanks! He’ll be right with you.”

  Principal Williams is standing behind his desk when I enter. His eyes tell me he’s unhappy. No, more like mad with that squinty, skeptical look from the first day I met him with Mom 4.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hello, Ms. Tatum. That is what you’re calling yourself these days.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Your “mom” showed up in today’s paper.” He throws me a copy of the local newspaper. I have to bend over and pick it up off the floor. In the bottom right-hand corner of the front page is a headline saying, “Local Drug Bust Leads to Arrests” with a picture of three women being handcuffed. Mom 4 is in the middle. The caption gives their names. None of them says “Liza Tatum.”

  “Mom! How? I don’t? Please don’t tell anyone, Mr. Williams.” I try my best mortified daughter act. He narrows those awful beady eyes again allowing me to keep talking. I decide between shutting up and cutting my losses with less information and spewing more words in an effort to make up a plausible explanation. At the moment I am simply at a loss for words, though.

  “Cut the crap. Nobody moves schools the last two months of their senior year. I was on to you the first day you set foot in this school. All I needed was proof. And now I have it.” He taps the paper again.

  “You got me,” I say. “My mom’s a crackhead. She drags me around the country shacking up with the supplier of her next fix. Can you blame me for hiding that little bit of information? Look, all I want to do is get my diploma, go to college, and break the cycle. You know?” I see my hand shaking and shove it in my pocket.

  “I don’t buy it,” he says.

  “I don’t know what more you want from me. Yes, I changed my name. Can you blame me with the problems my mom has? She’s not the most popular woman in the circle she runs in,” I say. If he knew my name was actually one of the only things that wasn’t far from the truth, I wonder if he’d track down my past. Oh, please no, God.

  “This is not your typical American public high school. We have standards at Woodson Prep. Any embarrassment brought to this school will not be tolerated. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “I don’t think you do,” he says as he crosses his arms and sits on the edge of his desk next to a picture of his family all posing pretty in a silver frame. Who would marry this guy? “I want you gone.”

  “What? You can’t do that. You can’t kick me out. I paid my tuition! You can’t do that!” There’s a knock at the door. Mrs. Baker sticks her head in.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but there’s an urgent problem in the science lab that needs your attention,” she says. He scowls at Mrs. Baker and looks at me.

  “We’re finished.” When he leaves I sit down in the nearest chair. I feel like a balloon deflated of its air. My shoulders slump. I start to shudder, trying to ward off the tears. What good would they do me here?

  Mrs. Baker puts her hand over mine. “It’s okay, dear. He’s a giant flea, that’s all he is, sucking out the joy in everyone weaker than him.”

  “I’m not…weak,” I sob.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that. I saw the paper, too, Mae. I know about your mom.”

  “What can I do? He told me I had to leave.”

  “The only thing I can think of is to appeal to the school board. They meet on Monday. If you file with me today, I’ll make sure it gets on the agenda.”

  “But why would they care about me? They have no idea who I am. How can I possibly have any hope?”

  “Well, the rumor is that Ty is a fan of yours.”

  “So?” I ask, confused.

  “His father is the school board president, and his mother is the most ardent fundraiser this school has ever seen. I suggest you turn on that feminine charm.” She raises her eyebrow, just the right one, as if to convey what I fully understand already. What choice do I have? “Now get out of here before Mr. Williams realizes I was lying to him, too,” she says.

  “No science lab problem?”

  “No. They’re not even there. It’s field trip day down by the pond.” I can’t help but smile.

  “Won’t he be upset with you?” I ask.

  “Of course, but his dear mother is my best friend. I have job security.” She winks. “I’ll tell your afternoon teachers you were not feeling well. No one has to know anything unless the board rules against you. I’ll do my best.” I can’t help it, and I give Mrs. Baker a quick hug. I need a friend right now. I’ll leave Woodson as soon as I can get that diploma. Sure, purchasing a fake one wouldn’t be that difficult for the right amount of money, but I need something real, something I’ve earned, something that no one can take away from me.

  As I clear out my locker, the bell rings. I had no idea I was in the office for all of Spanish. I have to get out of here. I shove the last of my things in my bag, just in case Mr. Williams wins.

  “Hey, where were you?” asks Ty. Damn, not what I need right now.

  “Mr. Williams needed to talk to me,” I say.

  “Duh. I was there when he called you to the office, but why so long?” he asks. I look up and meet his deep blue eyes. I feel like crying all over again. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to keep the lie alive any more than I have to, but I need to stay. Mr. Williams is right. Who changes schools with only two months to go in her senior year? I can’t move again. And I need Ty’s help, well, at least his parents’ help. I can do this. Kyle used me that night by the bus barn. I know what it’s like to be used. It sucks. It sucks so bad it can screw up the rest of your life. But I have no choice. I have no other choice. But those eyes. They look so kind.

  “Can you ditch last hour?” I whisper so none of the busybody girls staring at me can hear.

  “Sure. I finished my Lee vs. Grant report already. Today’s just a typing day. Where are we going?” He puts his hand on the top of my open locker door. He looks so nonchalantly cool.

  “Somewhere we can be alone,” I say. Who knows where Principal Williams is right now? “We need to leave separately,” I say.

  “Okay.” He drops his hand and turns back to his locker while whispering under his breath. “My parents are out of
town until Saturday night. Want to come by my place? The housekeeper is usually gone by noon.”

  My stomach starts feeling like a washing machine stuck on the bulky cycle. I didn’t want to be that alone with Ty, but I need his help convincing his parents to stop Mr. Williams from being such a bully. Oh God, I want to go home. I’ll be a robot. I won’t feel. I have to stop feeling. I have to stop caring. I have to stop giving a damn.

  “Give me the address.” He writes in his notebook, rips out the paper, and slips it into my hand. “See you in twenty minutes.” He heads toward the gym. I’m positive Coach Preston will cover for him when he leaves out the back door.

  I wave at Mrs. Baker as I walk out the front door of the school. No need to hide my escape. I’ve been kicked out.

  Ty lives a mile outside of town. His driveway is like an old Southern plantation from Gone with the Wind. Tree branches overhang my path, welcoming into the tunnel that will lead to, no doubt, a magnificent home. Sure enough, the three-story brick mansion is no disappointment. Green shutters adorn the outside of the windows. A fountain shoots water from the mouth of an angel. Every bush and flower has been properly pruned with the layout of colors complementing those on either side. The alarm company sign on Ty’s front window warns strangers that they aren’t welcome. No need for such measures in my neighborhood. There’s nothing worth stealing within a ten block radius, certainly not at the home across the street. I think that’s most likely where the criminals are coming from. Women come and go at all hours of the day. Something is off, but I haven’t figured it out yet. It’s best to focus on my problems and not get mixed up in somebody else’s.

  “Hey, want something to drink?” Ty asks, coming out on the large covered porch to greet me. Oh, not again. Not another, “Want a beer, baby? How about another?” But how am I going to get Ty to do me a favor any other way? He’s a guy.

  “No, thanks.” I wait for him to press further, but he doesn’t.

  “Suit yourself,” he says. “I’m going to grab a water bottle. I’ll meet you down by the dock if you want to meet me there.” He motions toward a path that must lead to the lake that butts up to the edge of his property. I’m full of nerves, so I do what I do when I get nervous. I run. At first it’s just a jog. It feels good to release the tension that’s building up inside. I’m like a dam about ready to burst open. But as I near the dock ahead, I don’t feel like stopping. What am I doing here? Do I have no shame? I can’t do that. I am not that kind of girl. I’ll leave Woodson. I’ll figure something out. I always do. I’m hoping the path circles back to the driveway because I don’t want to double back. It starts raining again, not the downpour from lunch, but a steady drip, drip that runs down my face. Or is that my own tears? My eyes are stinging.

  “Mae!” I run faster. “Mae, stop!” I don’t. I hear breathing from behind, uneven and rushed.

  “I appreciate your wanting to help me get my track practice in for today, since I’m going to miss it and all, but maybe you could have given me a little advance notice,” Ty gasps. “I mean, I didn’t even get a chance to stretch.” I keep running. “Hey! Stop!” He grabs my arm. I shake him off. I need to get to my car. I need to get out of here. But what about school? How am I ever going to get that diploma if I’m kicked out of school? All of these thoughts jumble around in my head like those stupid white balls in a lotto machine on the Saturday night news. Which one will pop to the surface? Which one will win?

  I stop running. I feel my heart pounding through my chest. Sweat is dripping down my shirt. I push my hair behind my ears wishing I had a clasp to make a ponytail. Ty puts his hand on my arm again, this time more gently.

  “What is wrong, Mae? Why did you want to see me this afternoon?” I wipe my face, smearing away any makeup that remained. I’m sure I look like a hot mess.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I…I…you should go back to school. I don’t want to be responsible for getting you into trouble.”

  “I won’t get into trouble,” Ty says.

  “I know,” I say with a bit too much emphasis.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I know who your parents are, that you’re the golden boy who can get anything you want because of your parent’s influence. Why do you think I needed you?” He blinks his eyes like he’s trying to process what I’m saying. “I need your parents to do me a favor, Ty.”

  “You’re using me?” He backs up and stares at me.

  “Well, I sure as hell didn’t agree to come to your house for you to seduce me. That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?” I’m screaming now. I don’t know why.

  “You are messed up. Get out of here.” Now it’s his time to walk away.

  I get in my car and drive. For miles I drive absently letting any thoughts that enter my mind fly out the open window. I turn into the cemetery. Today I am alone. I touch the headstones of my dad, Laura, and my grandmother. I can’t hurt those that are already dead. I lean against my dad’s headstone. It’s like I can almost feel him here with me now. He was the one that always made everything better. If I fell off my bike, Dad washed my wounds and treated them with a Scooby Doo bandage. If my favorite doll’s arm fell off in a battle with Sarah when she was a toddler, Dad would reattach it, no matter how many times it had come off before. If Mom sent me to bed early for being mean to Laura, no matter how annoying she could sometimes be (because that’s what little sisters are), it was Dad who would sneak upstairs and tell me I could have an extra fifteen minutes to read whichever Harry Potter book I was reading at the time. I feel him around me. I wonder if the spirit hovers above the body or if it is only in a place so still as a cemetery that one can feel its comforting powers without the interruption of the world.

  The sound of gravel under tires sends me bolting upright. Someone’s coming. I look at my car, parked at the end of the row of graves a few feet away from me. I think about running to my car, but whoever is coming would see me. I have to hide, but where do you hide in a cemetery? The only place close enough to hide is a large weeping willow tree to the west of Grandma’s headstone. Its leaves hang in a show of acceptance, as if it’s shedding tears with those that seek refuge here. I don’t dare peek from the safety of the large trunk. I take deep breaths to steady my breathing.

  I don’t know who is in in the cemetery. Someone visiting a newly buried loved one? Or a spouse who’s been visiting the same grave for the last twenty years? I hear crying. I understand. I want to hug the person. I want to tell them I understand. But I can’t.

  “Please, please send her home. Please, oh please, send her home.” She doesn’t stay long, arranging flowers in a vase alongside the grave. I can tell from the rustling noises when she adds water, an ironic attempt to further the life of something beautiful that is already dead. The car starts. She drives away. I peek out from the safety of the willow tree. Its leaves seem to taunt me as they slap my face in the speed of the wind that has increased. My heart sinks. Mom is gone.

  I reach out and touch the lilacs she left. Somehow touching them makes me feel as if I am grabbing hold of Mom herself. I inhale their scent. I know she’d never understand why I can’t go home. No one understands how much I feel to blame for what happened to my family. Maybe I should let her know I’ve been here, that I’m not as far away as she thinks anymore. She deserves to know I’m okay. I reach into my purse for a pen.

  Dear Mom,

  I’m sorry I hurt you. I was afraid. I still am. I’m going to graduate and make you proud, all of you, even Dad. I promise.

  Love, Macy

  I tuck the note under a rock and hope the rain stays away until Mom’s next visit. Then I send her my daily check-in text. I wonder if she ever traces my location through my GPS. Does she know I’m close again?

  I have to get back into Woodson. I still want a future. It may be a lonely future, but at least with a diploma I’ll have options for college. I can still make my family proud.

  It’s after dark when I arrive back i
n Woodson. I need to talk to Ty. Showing up at his house isn’t a good idea. He’ll likely slam the door in my face. I drive around town hoping to spot him. It’s stupid. Not like a big neon sign is going to start flashing in front of a house saying, “Ty’s here. Enter at your own risk.” Maybe he’s at the lake. I’ve heard a lot of kids hang out there on Friday nights. I have to drive through downtown Woodson to get to the lake. I lock the door. Things were pitiful down here during the daytime when I brought Mom 4 “home.” I can’t imagine what it’s like at night. I look for her, though. She might be out of jail. It seems like druggies are arrested and released all the time. There are lots of people hanging out on street corners or in front of boarded-up buildings. The storms from earlier today have made it muggy and warm. Maybe being in jail is the best answer for her. Whatever drove her here is likely to kill her. I can’t help but compare my decision to run away to hers. Am I any better? Running from my problems? Is this what’s to become of me? I shake my head to ward off the thoughts.

  “Hey, baby, want a good time?” a scraggly man hollers when I stop at a red light. I know what he’s saying even with my window shut tight.

  Another yells, “Oh, we got ourselves some new company!” I step on the gas and peel out before the light even turns green.

  I park in the lot near the lake. It’s the same lake that Ty’s house sits on, though on the other side. I look in the mirror. My hair is either matted to my head or sticking up in flyaway strands. The bags under my eyes should be the result of having stayed out late celebrating with my friends at a wild party, but I don’t have any friends, and I have nothing to celebrate. I dig for a hair tie in my purse and pile my long hair on top of my head. I try to get the last dab of mascara out of the tube along with a little lip gloss. Add a couple of mints for fresh breath and dinner, and I feel ready. Twice in one day I’ve had to pull myself together. I don’t know if Ty is one of the dozens of high school kids that line the shore. Some are wrapped in blankets with PDA in full view. Others play football by the lights of the homes that dot the shore. Some pour drinks from jugs that must contain alcohol. I see Carmen. I decide to head in her direction because she’s the only one I know who will even talk to me at this point. She’s curled up in the lap of some guy named Sam.