‘Perry!’ I call out to him, hopefully loud enough for him to hear me. ‘Come on Perry, we need to talk.’
For a moment I think that maybe he isn’t home, but if he isn’t in school, then where else will he be on a crappy day like this? He has to be in there.
‘Please let me in. I’m sorry. None of this should have happened. We need to talk.’
I stand around for a good 20 minutes knocking and talking to the door. There is no answer. Maybe he went to school late and I just didn’t see him. It is possible. I guess I’ll just have to head back to school and find out.
I trudge back to the bus stop. My previous footprints are already filling with new snow. I make it to the corner where the bus will stop to pick me up, and clear a spot on the bench to wait. This is just a lousy day.
I make it back to school in time for the last class of the day. Walking through the school in wet socks is torture. I stop by my locker to find a book and head off to maths. Brian is already sitting next to Gary at the far side of the room and as always I get stuck next to Carla. I sit down and open my book, trying to look busy so that she will leave me alone.
‘Is it true?’
I look up and Carla is leaning over towards me. Her eyes are all wide and curious and she is fighting back a grin.
‘Is what true?’
‘That Perry’s gay?’
I want to slap her around the head with my heavy maths book, but instead I just sigh. ‘What have you heard?’
‘The rumour is that Perry has a secret crush on Brian and half the soccer team.’ Carla is enjoying this. ‘Is it true that the only reason Perry is taking gym is to check out all the guys in the shower? I hear Perry is always the last one out of the shower.’
I drop my head into my hands. This is a school with over 400 students and nasty rumours get around fast. Especially once they’ve been embellished to make them even more hurtful.
‘Carla,’ I look her dead in the eye. ‘Are you really going to believe everything you hear?’
She pulls her head back and drops her grin, appearing somewhat disappointed.
‘But everyone’s talking about it.’ She looks more confused than usual. ‘What about Perry hiding in the toilet cubicle with a picture of Brian, doing… you know?’
‘No, Carla, I don’t know.’ What an idiot. ‘Just who happens to be your source of information anyway?’
‘Gary told Terri and she told the cheerleaders. I just happened to be in the locker room when she was telling them.’
I don’t think I have ever been so disgusted with people. I have half a mind to walk out of class right now, but my socks are still wet and I would rather ride home on a warm bus rather than walk home in the cold.
During class I try to concentrate on my maths, thinking it will make the hour pass faster. I so want to get out of here and away from these people. I can’t concentrate much, and when the hour is finally over, I hurry to my locker, grab what I need and am one of the first to get on the bus.
When I get home, the first thing I do is change into dry socks. Comfortable once more, I use the phone in the kitchen to call Perry’s house. I get his answering machine, and I leave a long message, begging him to call me. I wait by the phone until dinner, trying to hide my distress, but Mom seems to have a sixth sense. I guess moms do.
‘Are you and Perry fighting?’ Mom asks me as the three of us sit down for dinner after Dad gets home from work.
I shrug, poking at my spaghetti with my fork, not sure if I want to eat it or play with it. ‘I have everyone mad at me lately.’
‘Are you still seeing Brian?’ Dad asks.
I’m sure he’s hoping I will say that we’ve broken up. But to be honest, I don’t know if we are still together or not. I don’t know if Brian is just angry because I embarrassed him with that outburst on the bus. Am I supposed to assume that because he’s ignoring me, we’re breaking up? I’ve been too afraid to call him to find out what’s going on. Maybe we all just need some time to ourselves.
‘I don’t know how to answer that one, Dad.’ It’s all I can say.
For the rest of the week and all through the weekend, there is no word from Perry. He doesn’t come to school, he won’t answer his door. I’ve been to his house five times – and he won’t return my two-dozen phone calls. Brian and all of my so-called new friends ignore me when they aren’t making fun of Perry to my face. I am so frustrated and depressed. I don’t think I have ever felt so alone.
It’s Monday and I am now so miserable that I don’t think I can make it through another day. I sit alone on the bus, ignored by Brian and his friends. When I get to my locker, I dig out the scrap paper with the combination number that I can never remember and open the door. Perry’s leather bomber jacket is hanging on the hook. I feel my heart skip a beat. Perry is here.
I turn to look down both ends of the hallway and through the mass of kids scurrying about. I can’t spot Perry. I shove my parka into the locker and grab the books I need and hurry off to my first class. Perry will be in that class.
I walk through the hall and down a set of stairs, mentally sorting out all the things that I am going to say and what order I will say them in. I think about what Perry might say and how he might respond to me. I have it all playing in my head. Everything is going to be alright.
As I walk towards my classroom, a swarm of kids comes flying down the hall. I have to throw myself up against the wall to avoid being knocked over. Strangely, they all seem to be running in the same direction, down the hall and towards the gym. I can’t imagine what’s going on. I don’t care. I’m still thinking about seeing Perry. At least if everyone else is distracted, Perry and I will be able to have some time alone to talk before class starts. But from somewhere I can hear a noise. Voices. Dozens of voices, chanting, cheering, jeering. Something is going on.
I start walking in the direction the voices are coming from. My pace quickens as I make out some of what is being said.
‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’
I drop my bag to the floor to sprint down the hall, towards the crowd, towards the noise. I slam hard up against the wall of bodies and push my way through to the front. It’s a struggle of elbows and shoving and cursing, but I get there.
I see a flurry of orange and white jackets – school soccer team jackets – punching, kicking, spitting, taunting. It’s Perry in the middle of it all. I jump forward and grab at sleeves, screaming for them to stop. One by one, I recognise each individual. I pull at them, screaming their names, pleading with them to leave Perry alone. One by one, they fall back and disappear into the crowd.
I drop to my knees, my hands hovering over the bruised and bleeding shell of my friend. I want to touch him, to comfort him. I waver, looking over his shaking body, hearing his muffled sobs. He’s lying on the cold, hard floor in the foetal position, knees constricting into his stomach, arms protecting his face. Out of fury, I look back at the dispersing crowd and scream at them.
‘Get some help!’
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone fighting their way through the crowd. At the sight of the orange and white jacket I start to panic, thinking that the soccer team is coming back to beat up Perry some more. I prepare myself to use my body as a shield to protect Perry from any further blows and then I recognise Brian. Breaking free from the crowd he’s falling to his knees beside me.
‘Perry!’ Brian looks him over, a quick assessment of his injuries. ‘Perry, it’s alright bro. Help is coming.’
I just stare at Brian, completely dumbfound. Brian’s attention is completely focused on Perry as he slowly eases him out of his foetal position, gently unfolding him.
From behind me I hear footsteps pounding down the hall. Voices yelling ‘Back to your classrooms!’ Mr Dubois. Teachers. Admin staff. All of them should have been here a lot sooner to put a stop to this. Where the hell were they?
In my frustration I turn to Brian. I grab his jacket sleeve and jerk him round to face me.
�
�Where were you?’ On the verge of hysteria, I want to slap him and hit him like his friends just beat up Perry. ‘How could you let this happen?’
Next thing I know I am swinging my fists, hitting Brian anywhere and everywhere I can. I am screaming and ranting incoherently and wrestling with him as his hands struggle to catch my fists. Somehow he manages to grab my wrists from behind and holds me, my back against his body, crossing my arms over my chest.
‘It’s okay, I got her,’ he says, obviously talking to the teachers.
I am exhausted. I give up the struggle. I am feeling weak and helpless, yet still full of anger. I look over to Perry in time to see Mr Dubois and Mr Valentine haul his weak frame up from the floor, and practically carry him down the hall. My eyes are burning with warm, salty tears and my knees buckle.
Brian and I spend half the day in the office recounting what happened and who was involved. Perry is taken to the medical room. The seven soccer players that were identified as his attackers are called into the office one by one. Their parents are called and they are sent home on suspension, pending further investigation.
I sit across from Brian and say nothing. My eyes hurt from crying. My face and nearly every muscle in my body ache from tension and exhaustion. I don’t think I can talk if I want to. My voice is just gone.
After all the offenders have been sent home, Mr Dubois comes over to speak with us. ‘I’ll take it from here. Thank you both for stepping in and helping Perry. It could have been a lot worse.’
‘Is he going to be okay?’ Brian asks.
‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. Perry will need some time off.’ He squats down in front of me. ‘He’ll be all right, Dawn.’
I just nod. I can’t even look him in the eye. When he sees that I’m not going to respond, he pushes himself up.
‘The day’s almost over, so I’ll give you kids a choice. Do you want to go to class or go home early? I wouldn’t count it against you if you wanted to go home.’
Brian stands up. I can’t look at him and stare at the floor.
‘I’ll just go back to class.’
Mr Dubois nods and I feel him looking at me. ‘Dawn?’
‘Home.’ is all I can say with the little vocal strength I can muster.
CHAPTER 6
Mom doesn’t give me a hard time when I want to stay home from school the next day. She only sticks her head in the door once, with her morning routine of ‘Rise and shine, time for school!’ Even her voice isn’t chipper and annoying. I didn’t even set the alarm last night. I guess I knew all along that I wasn’t going to school today.
For the better half of the morning, I lie in bed, dozing. Each time I wake, I replay the fragments of the dreams I’ve had. As noon approaches, I decide to get out of bed and take a shower. A long, hot shower will improve my mood a bit, I think.
I step into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes at the door and start running the water. Once the water is hot and steamy, I step in and enjoy the hot flow, gradually relaxing the tension in my muscles. A piping hot shower almost always makes me feel better. I must have been in for longer than I thought, because my feet have started to prune. I get out and grab a large towel for my body and a small towel for my head, wrapping myself up snugly. I feel a little better. However, I’m not really thinking about anything that will upset me. My mind is blank.
I step up to the sink. The mirror is covered with steam. I put my hand against the glass, about to wipe the steam away. Then I stop myself. I don’t want to see my reflection. I’m not sure why, I just don’t.
I move on to dry and groom myself before getting dressed and going downstairs to the kitchen. My stomach is rumbling. I haven’t eaten much in the past couple days. I open the refrigerator and look over its contents. Mom always keeps more food in the house than three people could possibly consume in a reasonable amount of time. And although my stomach is begging for me to grab something – anything – and put it in my mouth, nothing appeals to me. I grab a bottle of water and sip on it as I continue my search for food. The cabinets are full, but still nothing catches my interest. My stomach grumbles even harder. Finally, in the pantry I find a bag of pretzels and take a handful from the bag.
I sit at the kitchen table drinking my water and nibbling on my pretzels, thinking of nothing. The house is quiet with both my parents gone and there is simply nothing I want to do. I could watch television, but that might trigger a memory or a thought. Right now I am perfectly content with an empty head. Then the phone rings.
After a few rings I get up to answer it.
‘Dawn, it’s Mom. I won’t be home in time to start dinner; I’m at the hospital with Grandma.’
She sounds upset.
‘What happened?’
‘The doctors think she had a stroke. I called your dad and he’s on his way down here to wait with me.’
A sudden thought of Grandma lying in a hospital bed, and my mind comes alive with thoughts and worries. For the first time today, I am feeling something. An emotion.
‘Will she be okay?’
I wonder if I should go down to the hospital. Grandma is an eighty-seven-year-old diabetic with a bad heart. What if this is it for her?
‘She’s stable now. Just stay home and I’ll keep you posted.’
Something in Mom’s voice tells me that she isn’t so sure. Plus, I know that she would never have called Dad out of work unless it’s something very serious. Still, I know that Mom will call me if she thinks it’s time to say our final goodbyes.
‘I’ll be here.’
I hang up the phone and just stand still for a moment, remembering the last time I saw Grandma. It was on her birthday last November. Come to think of it, I didn’t even see her at Christmas. I was too preoccupied with Brian and Perry and skipped out on the celebration with my relatives. In hindsight, that was a lousy thing to do.
I flop onto the couch with the remote control in my hand, flipping through the channels, trying to find a show I can focus on to avoid thinking the worst about Grandma. I end up settling for reruns on a sitcom channel. Yeah, I’ve seen all these shows before, but they are still a welcome distraction.
At some point in the afternoon, I fall asleep on the couch. And I wake up to the sound of the doorbell. I sit up, confused. What day is it? What time is it? Where are Mom and Dad? I rub my face, forcing myself to wake up. The doorbell sounds again. I push myself up off the couch and walk over to the front door, stopping to raise my eye to the peep hole. Standing on my porch is Brian in his orange and white school jacket and matching knit hat and gloves. His face is red from the cold and he is shivering a little.
Brian is the last person I want to see right now. Not only am I still angry with him, I am still suffering from the embarrassment of my outburst yesterday. Why is he here? Does he want to check up on me because I stayed home from school today? Does he have some sort of news from school about the incident? Sure I am curious, but I still don’t want to see him. I wonder how long it will take for him to give up and go away? I stand quietly at the door as he knocks three times, hard against the wood, and calls out my name.
‘Dawn!’ He shouts it loud enough so that I would hear him even if I were upstairs in the shower. ‘Dawn, please. I need to talk to you. Please open the door.’
He sounds so polite and sincere. I feel a small pang of guilt for making him wait outside in the cold. I’m sure the temperature is in the single digits out there. And here I am in my nice warm house… Okay, fine. I’ll let him in and see what he has to say. The least I can do is give him five minutes of my time. Five minutes and then he’s out of here.
I open the door with some attitude and step back, motioning with my hand for him to come inside. He seems surprised that I let him in – but not as surprised as I am. I close the door and stand facing him, crossing my arms over my chest, looking at him. He has with him a familiar backbag in one hand. When he steps inside, he drops it off next to the door.
‘Perry left this at school. I told Mr Du
bois that I would return it to him.’ He looks at the bag and back to me. ‘When I didn’t see you in school today, I was worried.’ He grabs the orange hat from his head and pulls off his gloves. ‘Are you okay?’
I sigh and turn to walk over to the couch. Without looking back, I know he is following me. I sit down on one end of the couch and he sits down on the other end. I am grateful for the space. I’m not ready to sit too close to him. I can’t even look at him when I speak.
‘I’m not feeling too well.’
He bobs his head, thinking, listening, hesitating. I can tell there is something else on his mind. Something that I don’t want to talk about. He looks over at me a few times, I catch his glances and look away.
‘We need to talk about what happened yesterday.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘We have to,’ he says more urgently. ‘Dawn, I wasn’t involved in what happened yesterday. By the time I found out, it was too late. I went there to stop it.’
I look at him, trying to read his face. Is he telling the truth? He wasn’t one of the boys beating on Perry and he did try to help Perry when he was down. I want to respond, but I feel my throat tighten and am afraid that if I speak, I will break out crying. I know that Brian isn’t a bad guy; he just needs to be more selective about who he calls his friends.
‘Perry didn’t deserve that.’ I mumble.
‘I know he didn’t.’ He inches a little closer to me. ‘Have you spoken to him?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of him for sometime now. He won’t answer the door or return my calls.’
But I haven’t tried since yesterday. I should have gone to the medical room with him, or gone by his house again or called again. I should have done something to show Perry that I still care.
The phone rings and it startles me. First thoughts are of Grandma in the hospital.
‘Could that be him?’
‘No.’
I jump up and walk to the kitchen.
‘My Grandma’s in the hospital. My mom is keeping me posted on her condition.’
Breaking Dawn Page 5
