I smiled as he got closer, a sense of elation at seeing him rushing through me. “Hey.” I reached out to touch him. The moment my hand came in contact with his, he flinched like he hadn’t heard me calling him. His head shot up as he pulled earbuds from his ears, screeching metal music raging through them so loud I was able to hear it from where I was standing. But that wasn’t what held my concern.
“Oh, my God, are you okay?” I gasped as I noticed the angry blue and black bruise spread across his left cheek. The swollen, puffy skin on his cheekbone had been ripped open and was currently being held closed with two flimsy butterfly bandages. It looked horribly painful. “What happened?” I asked as I reached up to touch his injured cheek.
He jerked away from my touch, grumbling, “Nothing.” He wouldn’t meet my gaze as he tried to walk past Stella and me.
I reached for the sleeve of his hoodie and held on, refusing to let go until he talked to me. By the massive bruise on his face and his somber demeanor, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that something major had happened from the time he left my house to now. I felt an insane need to help him with whatever he was going through just then. He’d been there for me a few nights ago and I wanted to return to favor. But I needed him to talk to me first.
“Stella, we’ll meet you in class.” Thankfully, she seemed to get the silent message I was trying to get across and began backing away. I needed a few minutes alone with Parker, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t open up to me if there were other people around.
“Yeah, I’ll see you in there.” She turned and hurried down the hall. The first warning bell rang and the sea of students around us began pushing and shoving to get to their destinations.
When I finally turned back to Parker, his eyes were still on the ground as he shifted from foot to foot. If I had to guess, standing in the emptying hallway was the last place he wanted to be. “What’s going on, Parker?” I asked softly.
“I told you it’s nothing,” he glowered. “Drop it, Freya.”
He tried to step around me but I shifted in front of him, blocking his way. “Hey.” I stopped him with a finger to his chest. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s obvious whatever it is isn’t good. I’m your friend, Parker. Talk to me, please.”
“Jesus Christ!” he snapped. “Why do chicks try to make something out of nothing?” He ran his hands through his mop of hair frantically, knocking the hood from his head in the process. “I don’t need your shit right now, Freya. I fell off the goddamned arbor climbing out your window, that’s it. Let it go, or we’ll be late for class.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear Parker curse, but I was taken aback by just how much anger was in his words and the fact that they were directed at me.
“Bullshit,” I spat, standing toe to toe with him. If he wanted to use me as his verbal punching bag because he was going through something heavy, then he’d have a fight on his hands. I wasn’t backing down. “You’re lying. You don’t want to tell me what really happened, that’s fine. But don’t take your shit out on me. We’re friends, Parker, and that means we help each other. You were there for me when I needed it. Please, let me do the same thing for you.”
He stepped close, his voice coming out low between his clenched teeth. “I don’t need your help.”
I narrowed my eyes at his blunt, abrasive tone, not allowing myself to be intimidated by him. “You’re full of shit, Parker. Let me know when you decide to stop lying to me.” I spun on my heels and stomped down the hall toward class, ignoring the feel of his eyes on me as he trailed behind. I spent the entire period so focused on ignoring the pull of the boy behind me that I hardly paid attention to anything Mrs. Wilkins had said. I briefly caught a piece when she mentioned our papers on The Crucible were due at the end of the week. In all the time we’d spent together, that damn project hadn’t even crossed my mind. I wondered if Parker had bothered to write it like he’d promised or if I was going to have to buckle down and do it all myself.
For weeks, Parker had shown me a side of himself I felt was just for me. I thought he’d proven me wrong in my initial judgment of him, but seeing him revert back to how he was those first few days created a nagging disappointment in the center of my chest.
As the morning progressed into afternoon, my concern grew heavier. Despite the length of time I’d actually known Parker, it felt like I knew him well, better than most people probably did. I got the feeling that he didn’t show the parts of himself he’d shown me to others. When we talked about my mother, it was as if there was a kinship there, like we clicked on a level other people might not understand. Finding out he’d suffered a loss as well had built a bond between the two of us, or at least it had felt that way before his blow-up earlier that morning. He sat sullenly through Biology, not once lifting his head in acknowledgment whenever Seth leaned in to talk to him. He kept his head down and his shoulders slumped. My eyes stayed trained to his defeated posture for the whole hour and a half that our teacher prattled on about something or another, my heart aching at the sight of him looking so defeated.
After much thought, I’d finally decided to confront him—in a much calmer manner—at lunch. I sat at the table with Stella just pushing the food around on my tray, my appetite nonexistent. I kept an eagle eye on the cafeteria doors waiting for him to walk through, but each time they opened to show someone other than Parker that worry in the pit of my stomach grew even larger.
“I heard he left early,” Stella said, cutting into my internal debate over what could be plaguing Parker.
I turned my eyes to my friend, shaking myself out of my daze to see her looking at me with pity in her shiny green eyes. “What?”
“Parker. You’re watching the door like a hawk. Every time someone other than him walks through, you sigh.”
I hadn’t realized I’d been so obvious. “Something’s not right,” I told her, looking down at the glob of unrecognizable food on my plate. “We got in a fight this morning and he…I don’t know…with that bruise and how he was acting…I’m just worried.”
“You like him.” It wasn’t a question; she spoke with absolute certainty.
“What? No! No, I don’t like him. He’s just a friend,” I insisted adamantly.
Her brow furrowed as she studied my reddening cheeks. “You do. You like him. There’s nothing wrong with that, Freya. He’s not a bad guy.”
“Stella, I don’t like him. I’m just concerned…as a friend,” I tacked on to the end. I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, me or her. I knew nothing about Parker Owens, but somehow he’d managed to work his way past my defenses. I felt more normal with him than I did around anyone else. It was as if I were healing bit by bit whenever I was in his presence, as if I were getting some of myself back.
“If you say so.” She shrugged casually and bit into her sandwich, keeping a knowing gaze on me as she chewed. “You know, that’s not the first time he’s shown up to school with bruises,” she said after she swallowed and sat her sandwich back down on her plate, her face a mask of sympathy.
The tiny hairs on my arms stood on end as I straightened in my seat. “What?”
“Every few months, Parker shows up at school sporting a black eye or a busted lip, something like that. People talk, you know? But he always has an excuse. No one really knows what actually happened.”
“Oh, God,” I breathed with a hand to my chest, my mind automatically running rampant with a dozen different scenarios, each one worse than the last.
“I’ve never seen him act the way he does with you around any other girl, not even Cassidy, and they dated for, like, two years. Maybe you should try talking to him.”
I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “I tried, Stella. That’s what we fought about this morning. He didn’t want to talk about it and turned into an asshole.”
Her expression grew thoughtful before she spoke again. “And I’m guessing you got angry back at him?”
I glared at her for a fe
w seconds before finally relenting under her steady gaze. “All right, yeah. I might have gotten a little angry. But he was being a jerk!” I defended.
“Well, maybe you should try talking to him without getting defensive. Just a suggestion.” She grinned at me and bit into her lunch again. I could have done without her smug insightfulness right at that moment. “I’m just saying, I think if you can both manage to keep your tempers in check, he might actually open up to you. You seem to get him to react differently than he does with everyone else.”
“I don’t know about that,” I grumbled. “He seemed to react to me like he would anyone else.”
“He probably felt cornered.”
“So, what do you suggest?”
“Finesse, my dear.” She giggled. “Try using finesse.”
“Finesse,” I repeated as though I didn’t understand what she was saying.
“Yeah. Basically I’m telling you not to be a bitch. Don’t go in guns a blazin’. You’ll attract more bees with honey than vinegar and all that jazz.”
“Any other metaphors you want to throw at me?” I deadpanned.
“Nah, I’m good for now. But I’ll text you if I come up with anything else.”
I spent the remainder of the day playing out what I’d say when I saw Parker next, trying to take Stella’s advice to heart. Parker and I had butted heads quite a bit when we first met. I knew it would be difficult to keep my attitude in check when it came to him, but I also knew I had to at least try. There was just something about him that made my emotions more intense than normal. I responded to him in a way I never had with anyone else. Be it anger or attraction, what I felt around Parker was ten times stronger than it should have been.
I couldn’t get what Stella had told me out of my mind. He’d come to school with bruises before? A part of me was scared at what I might uncover if I dug deeper, but I couldn’t let it go. I needed to help him, even if that was just by being a shoulder for him to lean on. When the final bell rang for the day, I headed straight for home, walking at a much faster pace. I knew what I needed to do. I was going to get Parker to let me in whether he liked it or not.
Nerves fluttered around in my belly like a million hummingbirds had just taken flight. I’d dumped my messenger bag right inside the door as soon as I’d gotten home, not bothering to step completely inside before I locked up behind myself and headed in the direction I watched Parker take almost every night once we finished watching the sunset. I’d never walked through the wooded area between our houses, but I reasoned it couldn’t be that difficult to get to the Owens’ house; it was right next door, after all. I made my way through the dense trees, following along what appeared to be a small path, hoping it would lead me in the right direction. A few minutes later, the trees cleared and a house, not too much unlike my own, came into view.
My stomach turned over as I walked up the porch steps, my heart lodged in my throat. As I reached up to knock, I noticed my hand shaking. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous; I could only guess I was afraid of how Parker would react to seeing me at his front door. I wanted him to know I was there for him, but I was worried he’d lash out again when I tried to talk. As usual, my emotional reaction to anything having to do with Parker was extreme. I was just there as a friend, for crying out loud, so why was I so worried?
I knocked on the wooden door and waited…and waited some more. Just as I lifted my hand to knock again, I heard the sound of the deadbolt turning. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing an older woman with Parker’s same brown hair and dark eyes. But where Parker’s eyes always held so much emotion, the woman’s before me were blank, glazed over. It wasn’t her eyes that were the most bothersome thing about her, though; it was the fact that she’d answered the door wearing nothing but a thin slip. The ivory silk was rumpled and stained in multiple places. I tried to avert my gaze back to her face, uncomfortable with her lack of clothing, when I noticed her brown hair was matted and tangled, like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in days.
“Uh, hi…” I stammered, trying desperately not to stare at the mess of a woman in front of me. “Um, is Parker home?”
Her head cocked to the side as she regarded me like I was speaking a foreign language.
“I-I’m a friend of his…from school,” I continued lamely. “I live next door.”
“Oh!” she shouted excitedly, startling a jump from me as she clapped her hands. She went from showing nothing to being boisterous in the blink of an eye, like a switch had been flipped. “Come in, come in!” She grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me through the door, slamming it shut behind us.
I lost my footing as she practically dragged me into the living room, almost stumbling to the ground before righting myself. She flopped down on the couch and pulled me with her, never once releasing my hand.
“So, you’re friends with Parker?” she asked, it was then I noticed her words were coming out slightly slurred. Was it possible she was drunk…? At four o’clock in the afternoon?
“Yes, ma’am. I just moved here not too long ago. I met Parker my first day here.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” she garbled. “You’re such a pretty girl.”
“Um, thank you,” I responded uncomfortably, not quite understanding what was wrong with Mrs. Owens but knowing she wasn’t in her right mind at that moment.
“Oh!” she shouted. “How rude of me, where are my manners? Are you thirsty, sweetie? Can I get you something to drink?”
Parker’s mother bounced from one thing to another so quickly I felt like my head was spinning. I’d just wanted a chance to talk to Parker in private, but I felt like I’d just stepped into a twilight zone.
“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine, Mrs. Owens. Is Parker home?”
Her bleary brown eyes pointed up toward the ceiling as if she had to think hard for the answer to my simple question. “No. No, I don’t believe he’s home. He’s at school. He had school today. My boy’s so smart. Did you know that? He’s so, so smart.”
I tried to smile in an attempt to placate the erratic woman when all I really wanted to do was get the hell out of there. “Yes, ma’am. He’s very smart. You’ve done a good job with him.”
“Yes,” she whispered, sounding almost broken. “He’s a good boy.” Something akin to sorrow flashed over her features, only to disappear so quickly I’d almost missed it.
“Mrs. Owens, are you okay?” I asked cautiously, unsure of how she would act next.
“Food!” she shouted, startling a jump from me as she bolted up from the couch. “Let me make you something to eat.”
“Mrs. Owens,” I started quickly, “I’m fine, really. I’m not hungry. You don’t need to go to any trouble.”
“Oh, you pretty girl.” She smiled. Her pupils were a little more dilated than normal as her gaze bounced across my face. “You’re a special friend of my Parker’s. What kind of mom would I be if I didn’t take care of you?”
With every passing moment, I grew more and more uncomfortable with my surroundings. Mrs. Owens’ erratic behavior had me wishing I’d just gone into the comforts of my own home when school got out. I felt like I should have been doing something to help the unstable woman before me, I just had no clue as to how.
“Oh, please don’t,” I called out as Mrs. Owens headed into the kitchen. “You don’t need to trouble yourself. Really, I think I’m just going to head home anyway.”
“No! No, no, no. Don’t do that. I’m sure Parker will be home any minute.” I listened as cabinet doors opened and slammed closed. The clanking of dishes echoed through the kitchen into the living room. “I’ll make you my special lasagna. Parker always loved my lasagna. It’s his favorite, did he tell you that?”
I opened my mouth to protest when the sound of glass shattering and a cry of pain had me running into the kitchen. Parker’s mother was on her knees on the tiled floor, hunched over and cradling her right arm tightly to her chest. The sight of blood staining the front of her slip and dripping to the
floor caused my heart to drop into my stomach. I vaguely recalled the crunch of broken glass beneath my feet as I rushed to her.
“Oh, God. Are you all right?” Kneeling down before the fragile woman, I pulled her arm away from her body to inspect the wound. The cut along her forearm was deep, dark red blood oozing from the open flesh at an alarming speed. Scanning the kitchen counters, I spotted a dishcloth by the sink and lunged for it, wrapping it tightly around her arm.
“I-I dropped the dish,” she stuttered as tears poured from her glassy eyes. “Please don’t tell Parker. He’ll be so upset. So upset. You can’t tell him.”
“I think you need to go to the hospital. This probably needs stitches.”
“You can’t tell him. You can’t tell him,” she said over and over. Her eyes were no longer on me as she repeated the same sentence. It was as though she were mumbling to herself.
I pulled the towel away from her arm with shaky hands to see that the bleeding had thankfully slowed. “Here, hold this tightly,” I instructed, pressing the towel back to her arm. “I’m going to call for help.” My nerves were going haywire as I tried to think of who I could possibly call. I didn’t have Parker’s cell phone number, my father wasn’t home, and I didn’t know if a cut to the arm warranted a call to 911. But I didn’t feel like there was any other option. I had no idea what to do in situations like the one I was currently experiencing.
Just as I reached into my pocket to retrieve my phone, the front door opened. “Mom, I’m home.”
My skin broke out in goose bumps as the sound of crying carried from the kitchen. My eyes darted down to the table just inside the entryway. The mail was scattered across the top of it and sitting right there, clear as day, was the reason why I always made sure to rush home before my mom had a chance to check the mail.
Oh, God, no no no.
A brochure for the indoor swim camp Toby had been enrolled in stared back at me in all of its bright, glossy glory. After that awful day years ago, I always tried my damnedest to beat the mail carrier home. Even though he’d been gone for years, we still constantly got junk mail from all the organizations Toby had been a part of growing up. It was my job to make sure it was all thrown out before Mom ever got the chance to see it, but after my run-in with Freya that morning, I left school and spent the rest of the day driving around aimlessly, needing to get my head on straight.
Scattered Colors Page 9
