Painted Boots

by Mechelle Morrison

  But the weirdest change in my life didn’t turn out to be my mother dying or moving away from the world I’d always known. The weirdest change waited for me in Tower County High. I started here a stranger, feeling lost and needing the comfort of school routine. I expected I’d make friends easily. That’s the way it was for new kids in my school back in Portland. We lifers took them in.

  Instead, and for the first time ever, I wound up on the receiving end of a bully—a girl named Em Harrelson.

  I got a little taste of Em that first day in the school parking lot when she and her friends made fun of my name. They’ve since made a game out of guessing who once owned my clothes—not that I believe there’s any way they really know so much about all the clothing up for sale in Gillette’s second-hand stores. There’s other stuff, too, like when Em shoved me up against a locker and told me to stay away from Kyle Thacker. And a few nights ago she threw marbles at my window just to scare me. Which she did.

  Growing up in the same place all your life affords you a kind of invisible safety-net. But until my first day of school in Tower County, I hadn’t realized that my net was gone. I’d always been on the inside of things, looking out. I’d always been the one who knew everybody, the one sheltered in a tight-knit group of family and friends. I remember the few times I started acting like I was better because I was known or better because I came from a well-off part of town. Mom would remind me: “No one is above or below you, Aspen. Our differences make us equal. Period.”

  I arrived in Gillette having lost everything but my dad. My reception here shook what I’d been taught—I mean, my welcome was to be treated as if I’m nothing. I’d never thought of myself as nothing before, even when Mom died.

  If that’s Gillette’s way, it makes me sad. But I don’t accept it. I’ve made a few good friends at Tower County: Gwen, and Kyle Thacker, too. With luck, I’ll make more.

  There aren’t many people here that know my mom died, or how much I miss her. Just Kyle, and Gwen and now you. I don’t talk much about the things Em does, though I did finally tell my dad about the clothing game she plays. And I haven’t told anyone that a change has happened inside me since moving here, a change I can’t yet explain. Because despite Em’s rudeness and her bad behavior, despite being motherless and being so much on my own, this place feels part of me. I would have never thought it possible as we drove out of Portland for the very last time. Gillette is home.

  At eleven forty the first lunch bell rings. I walk from geometry into the hall, analyzing the dull pain in my ankle. It’s not as bad as it was yesterday, and it’s much better than the night I fell. The swelling’s gone down. It’s easier now to get my boot—Kyle’s boot—on and off.

  Cool, how my boots were once his.

  I round a corner then stop short, inches from Em Harrelson. I have no idea how she came to be right in front of me, though I’ll admit, I was looking elsewhere. Kyle warned me that she can be a ghost. Still, I feel a little freaked.

  The classrooms to either side of us are full, and a few of the doors are propped open. For half a second I consider diving into one of them, but I don’t. Em hurt Kyle. She hurt him in ways no one should ever be hurt.

  “Watch where you’re going, Retro.”

  “My name is Aspen,” I say.

  Em taps my arm with her finger. “I hear you know where Kyle is.”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Em cocks her head to one side and slowly twirls a shank of her dead-grass hair around her finger. “I hear he rescued you a while back, out in the parking lot.”

  “That’s Lindsey’s view,” I say.

  “No, I don’t think so. You had Lindsey’s pin and she was asking for it and he stepped up for you.”

  A group of guys wander past us, talking football. When they’re gone the hall is empty—except for the sounds coming from the classrooms still in session.

  I’m gripping my books so tight my fingers ache. At my core I’m shaking, but I say, “I buy my jewelry at stores. Which is where I bought the pin Lindsey claims is hers. And as for Kyle. It’s a free country.” I start to walk away, so angry I forgot my ankle hurts. Until I put weight on it.

  Em catches my arm. My books drop to the floor as she twists me to face her. “Here’s the thing,” she says. “Lindsey tells me a little story about you and a pin and the parking lot and Kyle. The next thing I know, that very same day, in fact, he’s telling me we’re through. He just followed me home from school and right there in my garage, broke my heart. Everything was fine between us until the day he rescued you. You see where I’m headed.”

  I yank free of Em’s grasp. “If you really want the reason why he dumped you, I suggest you look in a mirror.”

  Em shoves me. I stumble back, tripping over my books and bumping hard against the wall. She drills her finger into my shoulder. “Just what do you mean by that?” she shouts. Two teachers step from their classrooms and stand in their open doorways, watching. One of them folds his arms across his chest. Em doesn’t notice either of them—or if she does, she doesn’t care.

  “I mean you’re not a nice person. Both times I’ve run into you, you’ve shoved me up against some wall and yelled at me. You don’t even know me. But since I’m new here, I’ll spell it out for you. Nothing about me is any of your business. You don’t have the right to get in my face. Stay away from me.”

  Em’s eyes widen and her lips part with a breathy “Huh.” A few seconds pass like that, with her frozen and staring and me shaking inside, like my guts are trapped in a paint-mixing machine. Then two creases form across her forehead. Her mouth pulls into a sharp frown. Her eyes twitch.

  “Nobody talks to me like that,” she says. I swear she’s gritting her teeth.

  “Everybody should talk to you like that! People should have started calling you on your crap when you were five. You would have wound up better domesticated.”

  Em’s right hand curls into a fist. She presses in on me until I’m smashed against the wall. Our bony knees stab into each other. Her breathing comes in puffs that smell like mint and something else, coffee, maybe. “I totally hate you,” she whispers.

  “That doesn’t give you the right to bully me,” I say.

  “Is there a problem here?” The teacher across the hall, the one with his arms folded, takes a single step toward us. Like a burst sack of baby spiders, his class spills from the doorway behind him.

  Em jumps away from me as though I’m a live wire. “This girl started yelling at me. I don’t know why. I was just on my way to lunch.”

  “I’ve been standing here a while,” the teacher says.

  Em shrugs. She takes one step back, turns, and walks toward the lunchroom.

  “Miss Harrelson,” the second teacher has her cell phone in her hand. She points in the opposite direction, toward the front of the building. “Mr. McAddams is expecting you. I’ll accompany you to his office.”

  Em stops. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her black knit sweater and draws a deep, exaggerated breath. Then she whirls on the heel of her boot. As she moves past me, her eyes are flint and steel. She mouths, so only I can see: “You’re dead.”

  KyleKDTlovesyou

  4:27 PM (5 minutes ago)

  To me

  Aspen,

  My sessions here are going fine. They’ll carry on for two months more, on Skype. All we’re doing now is going over ways to ‘stand my ground’ but I swear, I’ve got it. I was just blocked, you know? Evan’s death messed me up. I held too much inside. I let things get crazy. But I’ve talked it out and I’ll keep talking, whenever I need to. I don’t like hearing about your run-in with Em. I feel like everything happening to you is my fault. You’re more important than what I’m doing here. I want to come home. I’m gonna talk to my mom about it.

  K

  Aspen Brand AspenBlovesyouback

  To KyleKDTlovesyou

  Hey Kyle,

  Stay in Salt Lake and do what you need to do for yourself. That’s
my say, anyway. I’m sure your doctor has stuff he wants to cover, I mean, your mom scheduled an entire week of appointments for you and that doesn’t come cheap or easy. Don’t worry about me too much. When you come home, I’ll be here.

  Things with Em didn’t turn out as bad as they could have, right? She didn’t punch me or anything, and she was sent to the principal’s office so maybe that will mellow her. Maybe it’s my lucky day and she’ll get suspended. She’s angry and insecure and probably bi-polar and sociopathic, but no way am I alone in knowing that. The powers that be will deal with her. Missing you. -- A

  KyleKDTlovesyou

  5:01 PM (0 minutes ago)

  To me

  Aspen,

  I hope you’re right, I mean about the powers that be. I already know you’re right about the psycho stuff. I guess what I’m saying is that Em is predictable in an unpredictable sort of way. She’s always mean, underneath, but she can blindside you with it. It can seem like everything is fine and then, wham. Goes without saying that I’d feel better if you stayed out of school until I’m back on Monday.

  K

  Aspen Brand AspenBlovesyouback

  To KyleKDTlovesyou

  Hey Kyle,

  I’ve got stuff due tomorrow. I’m going to go to school. And anyway, if I’m not there Em will see it as an invitation to pick on me even more the next time I show up.

  Your dad is downstairs and I can hear my dad telling him about my day. Your dad is really angry at Em. He’s saying he wants to get the cops involved and get her hauled off to juvenile. He’s saying that he hopes Em is eighteen so she’ll be tried and put away as an adult.

  Now my dad’s saying that it probably won’t be that simple, that unless someone comes forward to act as a witness in her crimes against you it falls into the category of circumstantial. Your dad’s saying no way, that your scars are proof enough, not to mention that she’s going around confronting me in the hall. My dad’s saying yeah, but a solid case requires that Em be caught in an act of violence against another person.

  You’re dad’s saying he can arrange that.

  A

  KyleKDTlovesyou

  5:32 PM (0 minutes ago)

  To me

  Aspen,

  Our dads watch too many crime shows. At least mine does. But my two cents is your dad is right, that Em needs to be caught in the act of hurting someone and that’s not a good thing to think about. I don’t want the someone to be me, and I definitely don’t want the someone to be you.

  I’ll stay here, for now, but only ‘cause you want me to. I’ll ask Dylan about Em in my session tomorrow. I’m sure he’s heard it all when it comes to the law and bullies. But whatever he says, it seems like there’s not much we can do. Em needs to get on with her life, for sure, but I worry. If she knows we’re together she’ll do her best to tear us both to shreds. You stay clear of her. Promise me. My fantasy world involves a life with you.

  I swear, girl. I’m sorry for the mess with Em. I didn’t know I’d be dragging you into it the way I have.

  K

  Aspen Brand AspenBlovesyouback

  To KyleKDTlovesyou

  Hey Kyle,

  I’m with you because I want to be with you, so you didn’t drag me into anything. Even before we got together Em was singling me out, so I think whatever happens with her was destined to happen, no matter how it comes into being.

  We started a journaling assignment in English this week. We’re supposed to write about something secret, something we’ve never told anyone. I decided to chronicle Em’s rotten treatment of me, every sordid detail. But it’s weird to write about being bullied, you know? Until I moved to Gillette, I’d never experienced it.

  BTW: A life with you is my fantasy world A

  KyleKDTlovesyou

  5:52 PM (0 minutes ago)

  To me

  Aspen,

  I hope Em doesn’t wreck your opinion of Gillette. It’s a nice place with nice people. She’s the occasional rut. Not the norm. That she happens to be our age and all is just an unlucky draw. I still think you should skip school until I’m back, and I’m asking you again to do it, but I’m seeing you’ve got a stubborn streak. The idea of that is hot. It’ll bear a bit of exploration.

  My mom says we’re heading out to dinner so I’ll sign off until later tonight. The more I’m away from you, the more I crave you girl. You’d think all the pain talk I’m doing would douse that a bit, but just the opposite. My feelings for you shine above it all. I’m itching to hold you again, and kiss you, and put our bodies together in ways that feel too good to control.

  K

  Aspen Brand AspenBlovesyouback

  To KyleKDTlovesyou

  !!! Is it Monday yet?

  17

  Journal Entry Three | Aspen Brand | AP English

  My mom loved Devil’s Tower, mostly because she loved the movie Close Encounters. We never went there when she was alive, but when I moved here I Googled the tower, just to see where to find it in case I get the chance to visit soon. Did you know that from a satellite you don’t really see the tower? You see its shadow. The shadow is dark and so exact it’s like the tower has an alter ego, or maybe an evil twin.

  On Wednesday of this week, right before lunch, I ran into Em Harrelson in the hall. She got in my face and started quizzing me about Kyle. Just like the other time I ran into her, she wasn’t able to talk without shoving. Unlike that time, when she dubbed me ‘Retro’ and informed me Kyle is her eye-candy, this was different. She still called me ‘Retro’. And yeah, I was up against a wall, like before. But this time I spoke up for myself. I told her to leave me alone. It surprised her, at first. Then her apparent long-standing habit of being obnoxious kicked in. She made a fist, like she was going to punch me. She told me she hated me. She mouthed ‘you’re dead’.

  I told my dad about what happened, but I didn’t repeat what Em had said. I kept her hatred to myself. For one thing, it kind of freaked me out, and things that freak me need to stew in my head for a while before I find the words to talk about them. But as I thought it over I figured she was just blowing steam and trying to scare me, so I let it drop. I don’t want Dad or Kyle (I told him about my run-in, too) fretting over nothing. And anyway, a teacher intervened so here I am, alive and well and capable of fending Em off another day.

  I think being bullied is like living in a shadow, one as thick and impenetrable as the tower’s silhouette. That’s as close as I can come to describing it. I’m the same person as I was in Oregon, and I’m not. But it’s not just the less-than-friendly feedback I get from a certain group of peers that makes me feel different. That would be giving Em credit where it isn’t due. I started feeling different the moment my mom died.

  I can’t change a thing about the fact Mom’s never coming back. It took a while to accept that. I didn’t want to believe I was powerless, that there was nothing I could do.

  But I’m not powerless with Em. I can change what’s happening with her, and that makes me want to fight to make the change real. I don’t exactly know how to do it. I’m not a bully. I’d never win, fighting fire with fire. But Em hurt Kyle. She tortured him. Now she’s threatening me. She doesn’t know how aware I am of what I’ve lost. And I swear. I am never going to lose so much again.

  When the final bell of the day rings I spring from my seat like I’ve been launched. One short weekend and Kyle will be here, home and well and happy to see me. All week long I’ve practiced his songs so we can play guitar together. I’ve been sweet-talking Dad so we can stay out late. I’m so ready to be with Kyle in the Jam, singing and kissing and exploring and laughing. I miss him so much I feel almost crazy. Weird, but now that the wait’s almost over, it’s unbearable.

  As I blitz from biology Mr. Goldberg asks me if I’ve got a minute. Inside I’m screaming No I don’t, but I stop and shift from one foot to the other as he walks between the lab tables to where I stand waiting, near the door. I glance at the clock. Three-fifteen and forty second
s.

  Make that forty-five.

  “I’ve noticed biology comes easy for you,” Mr. Goldberg says.

  I shrug. “It just makes sense, I guess.”

  Mr. Goldberg smiles and my gaze drifts to the slight space between his front teeth. “I need someone to tutor girls in the sophomore class,” he says. “I thought you might have the time? It would be two afternoons a week—Mondays and Wednesdays—for an hour. Think of it as an opportunity for your college resume.”

  I look at the clock, again. Three seventeen. It’s cool, how Mr. Goldberg thought of me and anyway, I don’t have a real reason to hurry. I mean, hurrying home won’t make Monday come any faster. “I’d like to, but I’ll have to clear it with my dad,” I say. “We only have one car. He takes off work to fetch me.”

  “Oh.” Mr. Goldberg’s eyes assume a pleading look and I think of mice, right before I put them in the maze. He says, “I’ll speak with your father, if you’d like. I’d tell him you’re quite good at explaining concepts. I’d convey you’d provide a fine role-model for the younger girls. I try to get them to attend office hours, but, well. I’m not the draw you’d be. I hear them; they admire your clothes. I think they’d enjoy getting to know you. Some of them are near failing and I hate to see them fail. I don’t know if you’re aware, but in the sciences, class ratio is far from equal.”