When winding pressure releases, the world around us explodes, sending trees, grass, and dirt past the clouds. I close my eyes and let the universe destroy itself while I get lost in Penelope, forgetting about depression and disappointment and uncertainty.
She’s all there is and everything I need.
It starts to slow down, and everything begins to fall back into place. Propping myself on my elbows to keep from collapsing on sorrow, I look around to see every tree and patch of grass where it belongs.
Then I look down and find brown eyes staring at me under dark eyelashes that shadow her flushed face.
Penelope giggles, and I feel like I might start to cry again.
She never giggles anymore.
“They’re staring at me.”
Looking around the courtyard, all I see are other students in a hurry to get to their next class. In the first few weeks of our senior year, I can’t afford to be late every day like I have been since the eighth grade, and we need to make the most of the next nine months.
Penelope can’t mess around, or she won’t graduate, and I need to stay on track for college.
“No, they’re not,” I say, running my hand through my hair.
“I must be lying then, right?” she fires back, pushing her perfectly blondish hair behind her ear before walking away.
Our classes are in the same direction so I follow her, but I don’t bother catching up. When Pen’s moods spike, either for the good or bad, there’s no talking her out of the way she feels or convincing her that she’s wrong.
Shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my slim-straights, I watch her hips sway from thirty feet ahead of me in the pair of dark colored Levi’s she’s wearing. Her sandals flip and flop against the bottom of her feet, and the chunk of hair she missed curling this morning makes me smile because it reminds me of the Pen she used to be.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Turning around just as Penelope walks into her economics class, I come face-to-face with Pepper Hill. Overcome by the scent of huckleberry and a spoonful of sugar—thanks to the perfume she must dip in before coming to school every day—I take a step back.
“What’s up?” I ask, burying the concern I feel for my girl.
The right side of Pepper’s rose lipstick-covered pout lifts. She pulls out a pack of Marlboro Lights from her purse so that only I can see and asks, “You look like you can use one of these. Are you in?”
Quickly checking over my shoulder to make sure Pen’s in class, I say, “Sure.”
“What are you looking at, Josh?” I ask, leaning over the geometry book he and I are sharing. His stare burns a guilty feeling hole in the back of my head, and I can’t act like I don’t know he’s looking.
“Why don’t you wear your sunglasses anymore, Penny?” he questions instead of giving me an answer.
A flash of heat reddens my cheeks, and I drop my pencil to the wide-ruled paper I’m copying math problems onto. I almost forgot colored shades weren’t on my face, shielding anyone from looking at me in the first place. Letting my hair drop from behind my ear, it acts as a curtain between the ringleader who makes me feel more comfortable than he should and me.
“They broke.”
Josh leans close enough for me to smell the spearmint gum in his mouth. “All of them?”
I nod.
“Why haven’t you gotten more?” he asks, catching my pencil when it rolls off my desk. He holds it between the tips of his pointer finger and thumb until I pluck the orange painted wood from him.
“Because it’s not sunny out,” I lie with a sarcastic smile he can’t see.
He pushes my hair over my shoulder so it’s out of my face. The backs of his fingers brush across the pulse point in my throat, and I look up into eyes that are the same color as mine.
“You look pretty without them,” he says, smiling so big the mint green piece of gum between his back teeth is visible. Josh reaches down into his backpack. “But it’s August. The sun’s out. Wear mine if you need them.”
The boy they call risky drops a pair of black Ray-Bans in front of me. Over a month has passed since my dad snapped my sunglasses in half with his bare hands.
“We’ve enabled you long enough, Penelope,” the man who gave me life said as he crushed the colored plastic. “I can’t sit back and watch this happen to you anymore.”
Dillon hasn’t offered me the pair of heart-shaped glasses I gave him on our birthday a few years ago to ease the endless anxiety I suffer from. Everyone assumes they’re helping me deal by holding them out of my reach, but no one knows what the heavy dread that constantly hangs over my head feels like. Panic coats logic with fear when I’m forced to face the public without my sunglasses, and I’m expected to function as it pecks at me all day long like a bird.
Since I’m no longer invisible, people see past the fake hair color and pretty clothes at the real me—lowdown and dreary. They whisper to each other and back away when I’m near, as if my instability is contagious.
Dillon says it’s all in my head, but what does perfection know?
I push Josh’s shades away and copy down the next problem. “No thanks. The day is almost over, anyway.”
“Keep ’em. I have another pair at home,” he says, like they’re nothing special. The underlining tone in his voice is clear. “You need them more than I do.”
“I said no thanks, rez boy,” I fire back, daring him to act like he knows anything about why I wore sunglasses in the first place.
Unaffected by my anger, Josh picks up the pair of sunglasses from my desk and pushes them into my chest softly.
“I’ve always seen you, Penny. You don’t need to hide from me.”
“Don’t,” I say, fighting back tears. “There’s no part of this you want, Josh.”
“My mom was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when I was nine. I live with a crazy person, so I know one when I see one. You’re completely nuts, Penny. But I dig it.” He slides his large arm on the back of my chair.
Unable to stop myself, I laugh out loud and actually don’t mind when the entire class looks back at me. There’s an odd comfort in danger’s confession, and I trust his sincerity. It’s the same natural kindness he’s always shown me that makes it easy to ignore rumors about drugs and gang banging. The Joshua Dark everyone talks about isn’t the Josh I know.
Sliding the black frames over my face, it feels like coming home.
“Are you sure I can keep them?” I ask again, more comfortable in my skin than I have been in weeks.
I never wore dark lenses before because they’re hard to see through, but these are by far the nicest and most expensive pair I’ve ever owned. Sturdy frames hug the side of my face perfectly, and they’re weightless on the bridge of my nose. No one stares at me or walks by to see what color shades I’m wearing. I’m not treated like I’m infectious or weird.
I’m truly invisible.
Josh ignores my question and lifts a lock of my hair. “You forgot to curl this piece.”
I slap his hand away and tuck the straight pieces back as I walk past the boy I shouldn’t like so much. He reaches out for my wrist before I get too far and pulls me toward his large body, blocking the sun and towering over me entirely.
“Tell me not to kiss you, Penny,” Joshua says.
He doesn’t give me the chance to.
His mouth is too big, too soft, too warm against mine, and every nerve in my body fires off, shooting white-hot fever through my veins. It’s the first time I’ve felt anything but numb since Dillon took me into the woods and undressed me slowly.
Selfishly soaking it up, I can’t bring myself to jerk away from feeling alive until his tongue parts my lips and a jolt of disgust straightens my spine. Sickening remorse creeps under my skin, slithering like a snake over hollow bones and weak muscles toward my worthless beat.
As I wipe the wrong kiss from my lips, carelessness smiles over my shoulder and says, “Your boyfriend’s looking.”
Removing sunglasses I’m suddenly ashamed of and wouldn’t dare look at him through from my face, I let them slip from my fingers before turning to face consequence. Dillon’s at the end of the hall with his hands at his sides and his breaking heart on the floor.
I take a step forward.
Dillon takes two steps away.
“Stay the fuck away from me, Pen,” he says before finally backing out of my life.
I feel love fade as the boy next door disappears between an ocean of students just trying to get home. The place my heart normally palpitates falls silent, not allowing even an echo of the beat Dillon gave me. Emptiness makes a home deep within my soul, hardening what little self-respect and saneness I had left. Color literally loses vibrancy, and the air I breathe tastes like poison.
I suck in lungfuls.
“Do you need a ride home?” Joshua asks.
Dropping my book bag, I chase after happiness desperately. Tears that never leave me alone flow as warm air blows through hair I’ve hated since I changed it. I push through bodies and trip over my own untied laces. Searching for Dillon through blurry eyes, I stop in the middle of the courtyard and shout his name.
“Penelope, you have to calm down,” bad news grabs my arm and tries to pull me away.
Total fear seizes logic, and I drive my small fist into Joshua’s chest. Unable to tug my wrist from his hold, I scream and scratch at his face and neck until he finally lets me go.
I run home with his skin under my fingernails.
Risa’s standing outside their house when I come running down our street. Strands of my hair stick to my chapped lips, and salty sorrow continues to blind me. I try to run past my boy’s sister, but she captures me between her thin arms and holds me hostage.
“You have to leave him alone,” she says, restraining me against her body.
Fright shoots violent strength through my limbs, and I shove Risa so hard she falls back and doesn’t come after me when I run up to her front door and pound until my knuckles split.
No one answers, but I hear the back door slam shut and follow its sound.
I come around the house as Dillon lifts the sledgehammer my dad has leaned against the back porch.
He points it at me and says, “I told you to stay away from me, Penelope.”
Stopping at the end edge of the driveway, I search for the right words to say.
“I’m sorry,” I cry. It sounds cheap on my traitorous lips.
Dillon stands where we pressed our hands into my dad’s wet cement. Where we committed our love permanently—two hands and a heart.
He lifts the hammer over his head and smashes it.
“No!” I scream as he slams the iron into the concrete again.
Grabbing the back of his shirt, I try to pull him away. Stitches snap and cotton stretches. Unhappiness shakes me off and brings the hammer down again, splintering our palms.
When it’s completely crumbled, and as our mothers come running from our houses to see what’s going on, Dillon drops the sledgehammer and looks at me with red-rimmed eyes.
He says, “Now you mean something to him.”
I turn seventeen years old on a hazy day in September and celebrate it alone for the first time in five years.
“Come on, D. Let’s go get a cupcake or something.” Risa leans in my doorway. She crosses her arms over her chest, nervously digging her black painted toenails into the carpet.
Lifting my AP Environmental Science book, I say, “I have homework.”
My sister rolls her eyes and throws her arms in the air before stepping into my room and plucking the textbook from my hands. She closes one thousand pages of boring and sends it flying into the corner. Risa then smacks the blue binder from my desk and breaks my pencil.
“Give it up, smarty-pants. It’s Saturday. Besides, truckloads of college acceptance letters will come soon enough, and then engineering science won’t matter.”
“Environmental science,” I correct her.
“Whatever.” Risa jumps on my desk and kicks her feet back and forth. She waves her hand toward my boarded up window. “It’s okay to be sad, but that is pathetic.”
The day I caught Pen kissing Joshua Dark and after wrecking cement hearts, I went into my dad’s garage and found an old sheet of plywood. I nailed it to the wall, covering the window I spent so much time at before my girl crushed my love.
Three weeks have gone by, and despite my parents’ concern about the drywall, my bedroom remains sunless and as dark as my mood.
My blue-haired sibling pulls the keys to her Beetle out of her pocket and dangles them in front of my face.
“I’ll let you drive,” she sing-songs.
Since the breakup with madness, priorities I previously neglected because I was caught up in caring for a girl who took me for granted are slowly being taken care of. The DMV gave me a driver’s license, I’m not late for class anymore, and my grades have quickly gone back up. Herb and Kyle come around more, and I didn’t realize how much I missed them until they showed up at the front door after they heard about what happened with Penelope.
“One cupcake,” Risa taunts, dangling feathers, charms, and the key to her vehicle from her pointer finger.
Pushing my chair back, I snag the key ring from her hand and say, “Let’s go.”
The house next door seems bigger than it used to. Every time I see it, my heartbeat picks up, and I feel sick to my stomach, but it’s impossible to avoid. Walking around Risa’s Volkswagen with my gray hood up and my hands tucked into my dark denim, I keep my head down and try to pretend the white two-story home doesn’t hold my heart’s breaker.
“You do know how to drive a stick, right?” my sister asks. She buckles her seatbelt and pulls it tight.
Checking my mirrors, I make a mistake and glance at the reflection of Penelope’s bedroom window. Purple curtains twist the knife in my back, and I shove the rearview mirror up so that I can’t see Pen’s space. Slipping the key into the ignition, I push the clutch in and start the car. It stalls when I try to drive away.
“Hey.” Risa swats my arm. “Be careful with my baby. She’s old.”
My pulse flies, and I turn to my sister before dread and burning hurt blow the top of her car off.
“Start the engine and slowly let go of the clutch and push the gas pedal at the same time.” Risa pulls back my hood and scratches the back of my neck as she carefully says, “Just because she hurt you doesn’t mean you have to stop loving her, D.”
Successfully driving the car out of the driveway, I keep my eyes on the road ahead of me and pretend my sister never spoke.
We pull up to the Cake Shop, and a smile spreads across my face when I see all my friends and family waiting for me out front with balloons and a banner that reads Happy Birthday.
I park the car, and Risa grabs my arm and shakes me.
“Surprise!” she shrieks. Her multi-pierced ears and studded nose glisten in the setting sunlight. “Dad didn’t think I’d get you out of the house.”
“What are you guys up to?” I ask, looking toward the group of people who love me unconditionally.
Risa gets out of the car, popping her head in before she shuts the door and says, “You’ll have to come and check it out for yourself.”
Following my sister up to the best bakery in town, Herbert sounds off a loud horn, Mathilda throws a handful of confetti at me, Kyle stares at Risa, and my parents gather me into their arms. I sink into an embrace I wish was hers, but soak up genuine affection and do my best to push back soul ache and thoughts of dark brown eyes and the colored sunglasses that used to cover them.
“We were going to throw you a party, but we didn’t think you’d show up,” Mom says, squeezing my fingers.
“This is cool,” I say. “It’s all I need.”
Dad pats my back and guides me into the bakery. “There’s cake inside. Let’s celebrate.”
Chocolate cherry doesn’t stand a chance against us. After our stomachs are full and o
nly when a single piece of cake is left, it doesn’t go unnoticed to me that my dad nods at Herb. Cake crumbs fall from my best friend’s shirt when he gets up and runs out the door. I ask what that was all about, but my parents just smile.
“You’re a good kid, Dillon,” Mom says. “We want you to know how proud we are of you. This was supposed to happen last year, but since you didn’t get your license…”
A car horn honks three times from outside.
I sit up straight and look out the wall of windows toward the parking lot. Herbert’s standing next to a black Pontiac with his arm in the window, pressing the horn three more times. He waves when he sees me looking.
“We got Risa a car when she got her license, so it’s only fair that we get you one, too,” Dad says. He stands when I do.
Risa scoffs. “Yeah, but I didn’t get a freaking GTO.”
I run out to the parking lot where Herb hands me the keys to my car and get into the front seat. The scents of old leather and pine from an air freshener hanging from the blinker fill my lungs. My family exits the Cake Shop as I start the engine, bringing the car to life with a vibrating rumble. The navy headliner hangs low, and the leather’s torn in the backseat. Yellow-orange sponge-like cushion sticks out of the opening.
But I love it.
The only thing missing is Pen.
“It’s your birthday,” Kyle says. “Don’t spend it at home wallowing over a bowl of ice cream, heartbreak boy.”
My parents and sister took off, leaving me with instructions not to drive over the speed limit and to always count to three after I stop at a stop sign before proceeding forward. I insisted I would be right behind them, but my friends have other plans.
“I’m not in the mood,” I say, leaning back against my car door. “We can catch up tomorrow.”
“Not a chance,” Herb says. He jumps into the front seat of my Pontiac. “I need a ride.”
“You have your own car here.”
My oldest friend slaps his hand on the dashboard and answers, “But I like this one better.”
True Love Way Page 14
