Betwixt

by Melissa Pearl

There is an empty chair next to him. I take a seat and clear my throat so he knows where I am.

  He turns my way.

  "Hey, are you okay? You just disappeared."

  "Yeah." I shrug, trying to sound casual. "I just went home."

  "Everything okay?"

  I don't answer him straight away, I can't. I just gaze at his computer screen. He's been researching first aid pages. I can also see his Twitter account open, but the page isn't up, so I can't scan it for my name. I glance at him and see the map book open beneath his hands. He's marking out routes to try and also has a page of questions he's compiling to ask my friends.

  "Nicole?" Dale asks softly.

  "I don't get it." I shake my head, thinking about the day I've just had.

  "Get what?"

  My voice takes on a distant quality as I picture Dale's parents kissing each other goodbye then think about my mom crying in the kitchen. It then flashes back to school and I listen to my friends laughing about me being dead.

  "I'm popular. I'm pretty. In spite of their nastiness today, girls still want to be me and guys want to be with me." I snap out of it and look straight at Dale. "You barely have any friends. You have scars on your face that scare everyone away."

  Dale frowns and licks his lips.

  "Is there a point to this or are you just trying to give me a complex?"

  I pause for a long beat then look into his beautiful brown eyes. "Why do I want your life?"

  Dale's face folds with a look of such compassion and sympathy I have to turn away. I can sense him about to say something, but he's interrupted by a tap on the door.

  His mother pops in and looks around the room. "I thought I heard you talking to someone."

  "Oh, no, I'm just..." he blushes.

  "Acting out scenes for your book again?"

  He lets out a nervous chuckle.

  She grins at him then puts her hand on her hip as she walks through his room and closes the window. "You should be doing your physics homework, not writing."

  "I'm transferring, remember?" His cheeky grin is adorable.

  His mother flicks the drapes closed.

  "You're not transferred yet and until you are, I want you to give it your best... then you can write until you're crossed eyed."

  She pats his shoulder.

  "Yes, ma'am." He salutes.

  She gives a little laugh then kisses his cheek before leaving.

  To be honest, I'm glad for the interruption. I don't want to have my question answered. I don't want to see that look on Dale's face again, because that look makes me want to melt.

  I sit up straight and shake the bangs out of my eyes.

  "So are you writing a book or a short story?" I ask brightly.

  Dale hesitates, obviously surprised by my abrupt mood change. Jumping up, he closes his door and comes back to his desk.

  "I'm going for a novel."

  "Why won't you let me read it?"

  He plops back down in his chair.

  "It's still the first draft. It needs some major work and I'm not really ready to share."

  I wrinkle my nose at him.

  Flicking the map book closed, he moves it to the side of his desk.

  "Listen, I better get my homework done. I'll go as fast as I can, then we can plan out a route for tomorrow."

  "Okay," I mumble and rest my chin in my hand. I watch him work with a confused little frown on his face. It's actually quite adorable. I turn away and peruse his desk then smile when Dale absentmindedly grabs a book off the top of his manuscript. I lean over it and start reading.

  It's good. I mean really good. By the end of paragraph four I like the main character and by the end of the page I have to know what he's going to do about the piece of armor he's just discovered.

  I grab at the page and try to flick it over. My fingers whistle through it. I hold in my irritated grunt and try again.

  I let out a sigh and resist the urge to ask Dale to do it for me. Like he'd say yes after specifically telling me not to read it. I glance sideways at him. He squints his eyes and frowns as he studies the text, jots down some more notes then types something into his computer.

  I look back at the manuscript and narrow my eyes.

  Rubbing my fingers together, I reach for the page. Determination courses through me as I push my finger onto the paper and flick. The page bounces up then flops back down.

  My mouth drops open.

  Licking my lips, I narrow my eyes and reach down again. I hold my breath as I use more force to flick the page across. It lifts up beautifully and falls down beside the manuscript. I can now see page two.

  I lean down to read it and become aware of Dale's frozen form beside me. His eyes are slitty as he glares at me.

  "Are you reading my manuscript?"

  "I just turned the page."

  "I told you not to read th-. Holy crap you did just turn the page." He sits forward. "Can you do it again?"

  I try again. It takes three attempts, but we both give out triumphant chuckles as it floats in the air and lands on the floor beside me.

  Dale nods with a grin.

  "Good to know. Now stop reading my stuff." He picks up the two fallen pages and neatly places them back on the pile.

  "Why not? It's good."

  He goes still and looks at me.

  "Really? You think it's good?"

  "Yeah. I like Matthias already and I really want to know the significance of the breastplate he's just found. What's the symbol on the front mean?"

  Dale's eyes glimmer with a smile.

  "I guess you'd have to read it to find out."

  "Duh. That's what I'm trying to do."

  A small chuckle spurts from his mouth.

  "Okay fine, but you have to turn your own pages."

  Grabbing up his pen, I watch him try, but fail to get back into Physics.

  I continue reading. It's slightly frustrating turning my own pages, but after five or six, I'm getting the hang of it.

  Dale watches me with a slight look of wonder in his eyes. Every time a page flutters to the floor he shakes his head.

  "I wonder what else you can do?" He finally mutters, closing his Physics book and collecting up the pages I've dropped. "Here, try picking up my pen."

  I gaze at the object and try to collect it up, but it won't budge off the table.

  "Are you trying?"

  "Yes, but it's not working." I flick my finger on it and watch it roll slightly.

  "There you go." Dale looks excited.

  "Yes, but I can't pick it up and what's it really achieving anyway? Me picking up a pen is not going to help find me."

  "I know, but at least it shows that your mind is strong. It shows that you have some will power."

  I watch him open up the map book again and bring his computer screen to life. He blinks a few times and leans towards it as he stifles a yawn.

  "Seriously, Dale. You're no good to me unless you sleep." I look at the clock on his screen. "Come on, it's ten o'clock. Go to bed."

  "Okay, fine." He sighs, turning off the computer screen and walking to his bed. Reaching under his pillow he pulls out a t-shirt and boxer shorts. He whips off his shirt and I'm once again surprised by my instant attraction. He goes to lose his pants then pauses. "Are you... staying?"

  "Um. No, I... I'll head home. See you in the morning."

  Dale crosses the room and opens his door for me. Walking down the stairs, he lets me out the front. His grin is too cute as he waves goodbye. I hope no one can see him. What kind of moron randomly opens their front door, shirtless, and waves to the air?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I dread going home, but I force my legs to walk in that direction. I notice Dad's car in the driveway. At least he's home now. Wandering around to the back of the house, I decide to face the bathroom window again. It's thinner than any of the doors in the house and for some reason that makes it feel more do-able. I'm surprised to see it's still open. Mom usually closes it before she heads
to bed.

  Because I'm an idiot... or maybe because I just moved a few pages of Dale's manuscript, I fool myself into thinking I can climb through the window this time. I, of course, fail. My mind makes me do another "ants in my pants" type dance before I can head to my room. As I ascend the stairs, I notice a soft glow through the doorway.

  My bedside lamp is on and Mom is sitting on my bed... reading my diary.

  "What are you doing?"

  I try to grab for the book, but it's pointless. I don't even ruffle the pages this time. My mother sniffs loudly and turns the next page. I try to see where she's up to.

  I can't believe I did it. I lost my virginity to Chris Cooper!

  I cringe. I can't believe my mother is reading this! Can I die now, please.

  "I thought it would be magical," my mother murmurs my words aloud, "but it wasn't. It actually really hurt and he's barely spoken to me since. Not that I care."

  My mother drops the book in her lap.

  "Not that you care? Oh, honey." She covers her mouth and blinks at tears.

  "I'm sorry, Mom." I sit down beside her. "The truth is... I... I don't know why I did it."

  Yes you do.

  "My friends told me he was hot and super cool and I'd be an idiot not to go for it. He was kind of insistent. It was just easier to give in. It kind of happened before I could stop it."

  I shake my head, feeling dirty and ashamed, yet knowing it was what I deserved.

  Mom reaches for a tissue and blows her nose.

  "How you holding up?" Dad appears in the doorway. His shirt is all wrinkled and coming untucked, his tie is loose and sitting at a funny angle. He looks tired.

  "This is our fault." Mom shakes her head.

  "Hey, don't talk that way." Dad steps into the room and leans against the wall.

  "Do you know how she's been living? She has every right to run away."

  "Why are you saying this?" Dad frowns.

  "I found her diary." Mom lifts the thick book, flicking the pages through her thumb. "I don't know this girl."

  "Do you really think you should be reading that?"

  "Yes!" She opens it up again and slaps her hand on the page. "Yes I should. I can't believe I've waited so long and let so much slide."

  She flicks to the back and scans the contents.

  "Did you know she stole your credit card last week?"

  Dad shoves his hands in his pockets and looks to the floor.

  "Yeah, I was going to call her on it when the bill came."

  "Were you?"

  He sighs.

  "Probably not."

  "How could we let this happen?"

  "We were letting her grieve, Trudy."

  "For over two years?" Mom slams the book shut and throws it into the drawer. "We weren't letting her grieve; we just didn't know what to do with her."

  She stood up and straightened her skirt.

  "We've done the best we can."

  "Have we?" Approaching my father with soft steps, she looks at him with broken eyes and whispers, "Is this really our best, Mitchell?"

  Before he can reply, she walks out the door. Dad turns to watch her leave.

  "Trudy."

  I hear her descending the stairs, ignoring his pathetic pleas.

  He lets out a long sigh and runs his hands through his hair. Pinching his nose, he curses.

  "Follow her, Dad." I walk towards him. "Please. She wants you to follow her."

  Letting out an irritated huff, he thumps the wall and follows her. Mom is fluffing around the kitchen, noisily making a cup of tea.

  "Jody's death was hard on all of us. We've all been trying to find our way, Trudy."

  "On our own." She pauses to look at him "How was that ever going to work?"

  She pours boiling water on her teabag and lets it steep.

  "We might as well face it, if Nicole's gone, we should just end it now."

  Dad stands up straight.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Oh come on, Mitchell. We've only stayed together for her."

  Loosening his tie, Dad pulls it off and shakes his head. I can see him struggling to rein in his emotions, but he manages an even voice when he responds.

  "Not me. I'd never leave you."

  "You left me the day Jody died."

  "I stayed." Dad throws his tie on the counter, his voice breaking. "You just stopped letting me in."

  Mom lifts the teabag out of her cup and throws it in the sink.

  Leaning against the cold metal, she drops her head and whispers, "I don't know us anymore. I don't even know my own daughter."

  Turning, she looks at Dad, her eyes awash with tears.

  "Don't you see? With her gone, we have nothing left."

  Dad's face turns to charcoal as he grabs his tie and storms out of the room.

  "Dad, don't go!" I call after him. "This is why you have nothing left." I race after him and find him scrambling for his keys. "Where are you going?"

  He can't hear me and nearly walks straight through me as he makes his way to the front door, avoiding the kitchen altogether.

  The front door slams behind me. I stay close to Dad so I can make it into the car before he slams yet another door. He fires up the engine and screams out of the driveway.

  "Where are you going?"

  It only takes ten minutes at the speed he's traveling and we're very soon sitting in Sheriff Hutton's driveway. Dad slams out of the car and walks to the front door.

  The porch light comes on and Sheriff Hutton opens the door with a frown.

  "Mitchell? What are you doing here?"

  "Sorry for the lateness, Gerry, I just need to talk to you."

  "Okay." The Sheriff opens the door a little wider. "What's the problem?"

  "It's Nicole." Dad turns with a sigh.

  The Sheriff's eyes narrow.

  "What's she been up to now?"

  My Dad frowns.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh come on, Mitch, we both know she hangs out with the party kids."

  "Yeah." Dad nods. "Yeah, I guess she does."

  He dips his head then looks up like a lost kid. Are those tears in his eyes?

  "We can't find her. She didn't come home last night and none of her friends have seen her."

  "Have you called her?"

  "Several times. It just keeps going to voice mail."

  The sheriff's dark eyes glitter.

  "I hate Caller ID sometimes. You can't surprise people anymore."

  My Dad nods stupidly, it's obvious he's only now considering the prospect that I may have been dodging their calls. I'd love to tell him I've never done that, but it's not true. I actually have designated ringtones for them... it saves me having to look for my phone when I don't want to talk to them. I flush with guilt.

  The Sheriff puts his hands in his pockets as he studies my forlorn father.

  "You think she's run away?"

  "I don't know." Dad shrugs. "I just... what if she hasn't. What if something bad's happened to her?"

  "Yes! Thank you, Dad." I rush over to him. "Finally. Listen to him, Sheriff."

  "What are you thinking?" The sheriff puts his hands in his pockets.

  "Maybe she's hurt or maybe someone's taken her," Dad's voice cracks. "What if it's foul play and all this while we're assuming she's just run away? I can't live with that, Gerry. I need to find my daughter."

  Sheriff Hutton shoots Dad a sympathetic look and approaches him with slow steps. "Hey, I can understand what you're going through right now. With everything that happened to Jody, this must be a really hard pill to swallow, but I'm sure Nicole's fine."

  "I'm not fine!"

  "I'll put out my feelers in the morning and see if I can't rustle up some information for you. I'll call the L.A.P.D. and get her face up on some missing persons walls, okay?"

  "Should we start a search?"

  The Sheriff is obviously hesitant to say it, but let's out a breath and asks, "Where? Where would we even st
art?"

  Desolation washes over Dad's face.

  "I'm sorry, Mitch." Gerry pats Dad's shoulder. "I'll do everything I can to help you out, but right now, you need to go home and rest. If someone's taken her or hurt her, we'll find 'em. I can promise you that."

  Dad's shoulders sag. He looks hesitant to leave, but eventually mutters, "Thanks, Gerry."

  "I'll call you in the morning."

  "Yep, okay." Dad can do nothing more as the sheriff ushers him out the front door.

  Dad's moving in slow motion as he waves goodbye and gets in his car. I can't take my eyes off him as he drives home in robot-mode. We pull into our driveway and he cuts the engine. Placing his hands on the wheel he lets out a long, slow sigh and just stares straight ahead.

  "Dad?"

  I wave my hand in front of his face. What a waste of time. Laying my hand gently on his arm, I try to get a response, even a shiver, but he gives me nothing. He just keeps staring ahead looking lost and afraid.

  I want to lean my head on his shoulder and tell him it's going to be okay, but I can't.

  I haven't leaned my head on his shoulder since I was thirteen.

  The hopelessness engulfing us is almost too much to bear and I actually welcome the reprieve when my head starts to pound and the car's dashboard rushes towards me.

  *****

  I open my eyes with a gasp. The air around me is clear and cold. I shiver beneath my jacket. It hurts to move, but I can't stop my muscles from quivering. I want to give in and just let myself drown in a pool of tears, but I have no such luck. All I can see are my parents' broken faces, all I can hear are their desperate words. They play over in my head, continually bouncing back to my mother's whispered words, "With her gone, we have nothing left."

  That can't be true. I thought they had a great marriage. I just thought it was me on the outside. How did I not notice everything falling apart around me?

  The stones above me move. I look into the darkness, fear spiking through me. Was it an animal? I know bears and mountain lions roam these hills, has one come to eat me? I hold in my panicked breaths, forcing my body to lay as still as possible.

  Another pile of stones scatter. The sound is coming from up the hill. I know I should call out in case it's someone who can help me, but the idea of foul play stops me. What if someone I know was driving the car? What if they had hit me on purpose?