The Tomboy & the Rebel

by Leeann M. Shane

  Where are you?

  “The best thing I ever did was divorce her. She’s an unreliable idiot.”

  My body started to shake.

  “Who overlooks the fact that their own damn daughter’s going to run away?”

  The shaking started in my toes and traveled over my body.

  “You’re not going back there. I’m calling my lawyer as soon as we get home. I want full custody. You’ll move to Paradise Valley with me. Switch schools. Start new.”

  My eyes closed, and I pretended I was in that underground swimming cave with Dare. We were dripping pool water, and his eyes were gunmetal, and we were both smiling.

  “And you’re not to see that boy again. Do you hear me?” he hissed. “He looks like a no-good loser.”

  “I think you’re overreacting,” Astrid says softly, reaching for his hand.

  He shook her off. “She’s my daughter. My rules. My say.”

  She bristled. “We’re getting married, Russel. She’ll be my daughter, too. Am I just supposed to keep my mouth shut to please you?”

  They’re getting married? Dad’s eyes met mine briefly in the mirror before skirting away. “You’re supposed to respect my parenting.”

  What parenting?

  I let my head hit the window, and I peered up into the blue endless sky. The sun was a blinding spot in the unending sea of blue. So free and limitless. I wanted to reach up and skim my fingers through the highest point, to be free.

  I wanted to free fall into the sky, and never look down again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dad’s house in Paradise Valley was a trap.

  It was pretty and lush, set against the rust-colored mountains, but it was also a lie. There wasn’t a dust mote in sight thanks to Astrid’s obsessive cleaning, but the lack of dust motes told a different story other than neglect. It told a story of coldness and emptiness.

  Neglect had many different faces.

  When we got home last night, Dad had sent me to my room. I had a lot to say, but my mind was iced over, and I knew better than to state my piece. My parents didn’t want to hear it. They only wanted to listen to their screams. I couldn’t move my lips and started to wonder if a part of me had malfunctioned.

  My room at Dad’s house was typically for show. A weekend here, a weekend there. There were no pictures on the wall and the clothes I kept around were the clothes I didn’t have room for in my closet at home. My bags were in the middle of my room. I didn’t have the strength to unpack them, to accept what was happening.

  I sat in the middle of my room that morning, my bare toes digging into the carpet until I heard the bang of the front door and muffled screaming. I knew the sound. It serenaded my teenage years. I got up and tiptoed into the hall, peering over the railing to see the top of Mom’s head. Her amber hair was in a lopsided ponytail.

  “Where have you been?” Dad roared.

  “Away on… business.”

  “Business?” he sneered, like he didn’t buy that for one minute. “You don’t have a job, Erin. You got fired because you’re unreliable.”

  “Well, you become what you married,” Mom retorted.

  Dad’s arm jabbed in the air as he pointed at her. “Did you read my messages?”

  “You’re overreacting. Melanie did not run away with a boy.”

  “Shouldn’t you know that? Know where she is? What she’s doing? Who she’s doing it with? I got an email this morning from the school informing me of a lot of unexplained absences over the past few weeks. If you’re such a good mother, then why don’t you have any idea what’s going on with your daughter?”

  Your daughter. As though I’m an object passed between them both.

  “Me?” Mom screeched. “Where are you? When was the last time you spent any time with her, you know, when you’re not cavorting around with a woman half your age! That’s her problem. Her father’s dating someone who’s old enough to be her frined!”

  I sank to my knees, my fingers gripping the railing as I listened to them throw blows.

  “Oh, shut up, Erin. Get over it already. I am. Astrid and I are engaged. It’s time we both move on.”

  Mom’s squeak of agony sliced through the air. “You’re… getting married, Russel? Already? Our divorce isn’t even final yet.”

  I heard the intense hurt in Mom’s tone, the constricting of her throat.

  “Erin,” Dad sighed. “Don’t do this right now. We’re here to discuss our daughter. Who’s playing house under your eyes with some loser boy. Who’s running away and cutting class. Who the hell else knows what she’s been doing! You messed up, Erin. You messed up big time. I’m going for full custody.”

  Mom didn’t answer at first. Her quiet sobs filled the room between them. Her hands were on her mouth, and I saw them shaking. “Why do you want to hurt me so much?”

  I couldn’t breathe from my perch. Everything looked blurry and my heart felt like it was going to run away next.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he insisted, his tone desperate. “Erin, you’re the mother of my child. We’ll always have a relationship. But I don’t want this. This toxic up and down anymore. You’re… just… not what I want anymore.”

  Mom sank to her knees and peered up at him. “You say that. Until she goes out of town, or she’s busy, or she’s not around. Then you’re mine again. You can’t marry her, Russel. Not when you’re still mine.”

  Boys sucked. School sucked. Bullies sucked. Bruises sucked. And so did broken hearts.

  “Get up, Erin. Aren’t you sick of this?” But his tone softened, and I knew what was coming.

  Dad was going to drive the stake in deeper by being nice. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in his arms. Astrid was at her art studio. Mom was in Dad’s arms. I saw them both crying and wondered what sort of monsters they had become.

  To hurt, to scream, to comfort, and then to break all over again.

  That was sick.

  I crawled on my hands and knees back to my room and softly closed the door. I sat in the middle of my room, ripping through my bags for my camera. I turned it on and flipped through the pictures of Dare. I focused on his eyes, on the air in his gaze, on the freedom in them too. I imagined falling into them over and over again. Dare never hurt me on purpose. He never screamed at me. He never chose other girls over me. He comforted me. Even when I didn’t deserve his comfort.

  I wanted to apologize to him for slapping him. I wanted to say I was sorry with my lips. I touched them, remembering our first real kiss in my bedroom. The heat and weight of his body. The sensation of his soft warm lips on mine. His moans, my moans—Darren Morre had unknowingly become my new safe place.

  I didn’t need to hide behind the lens.

  And sometimes, saying sorry would only make me feel better. Mistakes were natural. Not learning from them was not.

  Sighing miserably, I flipped to the first picture I took of him. He looked aggravated and standoffish. How could so much change between us? Either it was always there, or we’d tapped into something I already missed.

  There was a knock on my door, and then it opened to reveal my mother. Her blue eyes were tear-stained, and her soul was so fragile I could see the wisps in the air. She gave me a toothy smile I didn’t have the heart to return.

  “Hey, Mel.”

  I turned off my camera and sat back, clutching it to my chest. “Can I go home?”

  She closed my door and sank to the ground beside me. It pained my heart to feel the distance and awkwardness between us. There was a time when I told her everything. Now she no longer wanted to hear what I had to say.

  I wondered if divorcing your parents was a thing.

  “Daddy thinks its best if you stay with him for a while. And I agree.”

  “But what about school?” That was utter crap. They couldn’t care part time. Either I was hungry, or they were stocking the fridge. Partial hunger was ten times worse than getting used to a loving family again.

  She reached o
ver to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Why did you run away, Melly?”

  I scooted away from her and brought my knees to my chest. My chest was constricting. I wanted to step into the desert and explode the pain out of my chest. “It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to do this.”

  She frowned, this deep ache in her eyes. “Do what, love?”

  “This!” I waved a hand between the two of us. “I’m okay on my own.” I got up and took my camera, needing the comfort of the lens. Guess I did still need it. “You can go now.”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  I hated my tears. I wanted to fade away. “I’m tired.”

  “Who is he, honey? The boy you took off with?”

  Dare was mine. My secret. I wouldn’t risk sharing him with anyone else. “Just get out!” I screamed, whirling around with fire in my eyes.

  She looked up from her position on the floor with wide, pain-stricken eyes. “What happened to your face?”

  I was huffing, I was so angry. “You really want to know? I was jumped at a party and in the hallway at school. Happy? Run along now. I think Dad’s doing something without you stalking him.”

  She flinched. “Who jumped you, baby?”

  “Ahh!” I screamed, dropping my camera on my bed and plunging my fingers through my hair. I was losing it. “Get out!”

  The door flew open. “What’s going on in here?” Dad demanded.

  “Did you see the bruises on her face?” Mom asked.

  She was always better in his presence. Clearly thinking. It was always about Dad. As a kid, I never noticed that her better self was because of him, until he wasn’t there. I hoped I wasn’t doing that. I wanted to be the best me with or without Dare. But I wanted Dare’s other half to make mine better.

  “Did that boy hit you? Is that why you took off? Because he made you?” Dad looked so pissed his face was flushed purple. “I’ll kill him!” His fists were bunched.

  I laughed without humor. “You’re psychotic. Both of you. Just get out of my room already.”

  “Talk to us, baby.” Mom got up. “Who hit you?”

  “Don’t come closer.” I was so angry, so close to teetering over the painful edge I’d been straddling for years. “It’s too late to help me.”

  They didn’t listen. Together, they came for me. Dad’s gaze took me in with suspiciousness. “Tell us what’s going on.”

  I tried to run around him, but he grabbed me. “Get off!” I screamed, flailing and kicking. He wrapped his arms around me tightly.

  “What is going on with you?” he grunted, fighting me. He picked me up like he used to when I was a little girl; the action broke me.

  I sobbed, wanting down.

  Mom grabbed my head between her arms as I dangled in Dad’s. “Who hurt you?”

  “You!” I shouted, making her flinch. I pushed off my dad and fell to my feet, trying once again to get around him. He was on me, grabbing my shirt and pulling me back.

  “Russel,” Mom cried.

  He wrapped me in his arms and wouldn’t let go. “We’re not leaving this room until you talk to us.”

  “Oh, that’s rich. Stop pretending you care and let me go!” Why was he so strong? Or was I weak?

  My body, my soul, my heart—I was losing strength. I’d had it. For two years I fought against the upheaval around me, only to lose my footing when I needed it most.

  “We’re your parents. We love you. Is it… us? Is it the divorce, Mel?” Dad asked.

  The harder I fought, the tighter he held me. I refused to let go of my goal. The door. And then the stairs. And then the front door. And then I’d run. And never stop.

  “It’s everything! It’s the fighting. It’s the pain. It’s the crying. It’s the feeling like a nobody all day and night at school. It’s having black eyes and no one around to do anything about it. It’s the dust motes. It’s the empty house. It’s not having a dad anymore. Not having an intact mom. It’s being forgotten. It’s waking up and falling asleep alone!” I couldn’t breathe.

  If Dare were there he’d know how to fix it.

  Mom sobbed, wrapping her arms around me and Dad. Dad’s hold tightened on me. I didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. I was stone in their arms.

  “Mel, we’re so sorry,” Mom sobbed.

  “You’re right. It is us,” Dad said, his voice thick.

  I hated everything about this. I closed my eyes, pushing out the heat of their bodies. I wasn’t cold anymore. I was hot with too much. And I wasn’t falling for the trick of their comfort again. My heart had hardened, and I’d find a way to deal with the hard parts on my own.

  “And we’re so damn sorry,” he finished. “I know you’re angry with us, but you have to talk to us, Mel. We want to help you.”

  “Answer our questions and then we’ll leave,” Mom wagered.

  I sagged in defeat. “Whatever.”

  “Who hit you?” Dad jumped in feet first.

  I told him the truth. “Maisy, Tyra, and Miranda.”

  “Why?” Mom asked.

  Ugh. “Because she thinks I’m trying to steal her boyfriend.”

  Dad peered around to look at me, a perplexed expression on his face. “Since when is your social life so complicated?”

  I shrugged, glaring at him. Since you left.

  “The boy you left with?” Mom asked.

  I shrugged again. “Let me go, Dad.”

  He held me harder. “Where did this happen?”

  Oh crap. “Um, at school. And… at a party.”

  “A party!” Dad roared. “Were there boys and alcohol?”

  “No. There were unicorns and virgins.” I scoffed.

  “Kill the back-talk, Mel. Or I’ll ground you until you’re forty.”

  I was unimpressed.

  “Or I’ll take away your camera.”

  “Dad!” I groaned, outraged. “Yes. There were boys. And minimal alcohol.” I thought of the shots set out like hor d'oeuvres and cringed.

  “Unbelievable. Did you drink?” I felt his breath pause.

  Lying at that point would only prolong this meltdown. “A little.”

  “A little!” He released me. “So let me get this straight. All of this was brought on by one boy?”

  “How do you know I didn’t go to that party on my own?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Melanie, I’m old, not stupid. You’re a good girl. He’s the opposite.”

  “He’s fun,” I argued. “He was here when you weren’t.” I glared at them both. “He bought me sushi!” I said, like it was the most extravagant gesture in the world. But to me, it was. It all was.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go down, all three of us, and talk to the principal about those girls. And you’re grounded until school is over.” He marched over and took my camera; my heart sunk. “And you are not, under any circumstances, to see that boy again, do you hear me, Melanie Barton?”

  I gnashed my teeth. “We’re doing a project together. I need him and my camera.”

  His nostrils flared. “You don’t need him for anything.” He put his finger in my face. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  Mom gasped, putting her hands to her mouth.

  I blushed so hot, I feared I’d melt right there. Not a bad idea, especially with the way they were looking at me. “Is that any of your business?”

  Dad turned puce. “So help me, Melanie.”

  “Go,” Mom ordered, pointing her finger out the door and giving him a pointed look. “Give us a few seconds alone.”

  Ground. Swallow me up. Please. I forgot just how invasive they could be. I hugged myself after he’d left. “Don’t,” I begged. “We haven’t done anything. All of this is being blown out of proportion.” Not to mention it was mortifying.

  Mom pulled me into a hug and wrapped her arms around me so tight, it was even harder to breathe. The cold numbness inside of me bristled, but the girl who’d craved a hug like this for so long, melted into it. Self-preservation told me to tu
rn away. Loneliness brought my arms around her and siphoned her warmth.

  “Tell me about him.”

  “No.”

  “Is he cute?”

  “Mom.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” There was a sad smile in her voice. “What’s his name?”

  I sighed heavily. “Darren.”

  “Hmm. That’s cute. Show me. Melanie, you take pics of everything. I know you’ve got one of him.”

  I knew the moment she left this house and went back home, I’d lose this fragile connection we shared in that moment. “Dad has my camera, sorry.”

  “We’ve talked about sex before, haven’t we?” She pulled back to give me a mom gaze.

  The sight of it nearly knocked me over. It was like looking at a memory, and not the real thing. Thankfully, her question was the kind of distressing that helped strip the sadness away. “Yes, Mom.”

  Downstairs, the front door closed, and the crazed, heartbroken wildness that existed in her eyes before returned in seconds. Astrid was home. She stared at the door and I saw the pain return to her gaze, and the war ensued.

  “Good, good.” She patted my shoulder. “Be good, love.” She closed the door behind her.

  I stared at where she stood, my wounds reopening.

  And to think, I thought those wounds were finally starting to close.

  ***

  I laid on my back staring up at the way the sun splayed across the roof in my room. It was Sunday night. It’d been two days of my father’s beratement and judgement. The side eye when we passed in the hall. The silent treatment on both ends when we ate breakfast. At least there’s cereal. Astrid tried to cook twice, but both times ended up with Dad getting the fire extinguisher; we both survived on cereal.

  “Mom can cook,” I said that morning.

  He looked up, eyes hard, milk dripping down the side of his chin.

  My father was handsome. He had old good looks, with his combed back dark hair and hard jaw. When he was happy, he was breathtaking. When he was hurting Mom, he was hideous. Outsides did not make a person beautiful. Insides meant so much more.

  “I’m dating Astrid.”

  I jabbed at my Cheerios. “I hope Mom falls in love again, so she can get over you.”