Knee Deep

by Jolene Perry

  My phone beeps.

  SHAWN: SORRY I’M NOT THER W U. MY DAD HAD A BAD DAY AGN YSTRDY.

  SO SORRY. My chest sinks at the thought of what the past day sounded like from Shawn’s room.

  SHAWN: ITS OK. WNTD TO C U LST NGHT, THAT’S ALL. SKIPPING W MINDY IS NVR A GOOD IDEA.

  U WER RGHT. Only he doesn’t know the whole story—how I took the fall for her. He’d really be upset with me. It sucks that his parents are still arguing.

  SHAWN: STIL WISH I WS THER

  NO BIGGIE. I’LL PRTND

  SHAWN: HOW DOES THAT WRK?

  I’LL PRETEND U’R LYING ON ME AS I WTCH A MOV, OR THAT I’M LYING ON U. OR THAT U’R BEHIND ME. OR THAT I’M NXT TO U.

  SHAWN: YOU CAN’T TURN ME ON LIKE THAT. I’M IN CLASS. IT’S EMBARR.

  My cheeks heat up. How can he just talk about that?

  There’s a knock right before my front door flies open. “Ronnie? I’m here for movies!”

  Crap. It’s Luke, which shouldn’t be a big deal. But Shawn isn’t here, and tension creeps in as I figure out what to do. Or if something even needs to be done. I start to hit ‘end’ on my phone and then remember we’re not talking, we’re texting. Now I feel like an idiot.

  “Come on in, Luke!” I call from the living room. This shouldn’t be a big deal. Luke and I spent days together watching movies after his dad left…and a lot of days since then. It’s kind of what Luke and I do when we hang out.

  “I figured Shawn’d be here,” he says, as his lean frame fills the doorway.

  “You know how crazy and anal his dad is. He never lets him miss, and he’s watching for it cause he knows I’m suspended.” And his dad has turned into an angry, angry man that I wouldn’t want to cross. A shiver runs up my back as I think about sitting in Shawn’s room while his dad yelled.

  I start typing again.

  WILL STOP TRNG U ON. SEE U WHN U CN MAK IT. MY DAD GETS HOME LT TDY, SO I’D LIKE TO C U IF U HAVE TIME BFRE WRK.

  “Shawn?” Luke asks, pointing to my phone.

  “Yep.” I smile. But my heart beats a little harder at the fact that Luke and I are alone together. I guess it’s just been a while, ever since Shawn moved back months ago.

  SHAWN: U CAN’T HELP TURNING ME ON. WILL SEE U SCNDS AFTR SCHL GETS OUT. LOVE U.

  LUV U.

  I stand up off the couch, suddenly needing to move. Shawn talking about me turning him on, and Luke and I being in my house alone, makes me feel like I’m pinned down.

  Today Luke’s in a Scooby-Doo t-shirt and another pair of beat-up shorts. Right. This is my good friend and there‘s nothing wrong with him hanging with me today.

  “How old are you?” I poke Scooby’s head, which happens to be covering Luke’s chest. I suddenly jerk my hand away. But why would it matter if I touched Luke’s chest? And why did I even notice that I touched Luke’s chest?

  “Just old enough to make this look cool,” he teases.

  I give him a good eye roll, it seems like the best way to make sure that we’re still on comfortable ‘friend level’ here, even though I’m feeling all sorts of crazy with him here.

  “Mindy said you took the hit for her.” He sits down with his handful of movies.

  “Yeah. She’s a good friend. Now she’ll owe me one.” But my eyes wander around the room, at Dad’s new TV, the slider door into the backyard, everywhere but at him. Luke knows me too well, and this isn’t something I can talk about with him.

  “I think there’s more going on.” Why does he have to be so perceptive?

  I open my mouth to tell him everything about Shawn and the weekend and going further, but it’s Luke, he’s a guy. He won’t get it.

  “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.” He smirks. “I brought every version of Romeo and Juliet I could find. Sound cool?”

  I let out the breath I didn’t know I held, totally thankful that Luke doesn’t see the need to push things. “Actually, yeah.” I nod. “I’ll make popcorn.” And get out of this room for a moment to get my head on straight.

  “Oh.” He knows what popcorn is at this house. My mom is a practical popcorn gourmet. “Can you do the chocolate stuff?” he asks.

  “Yes, I can.” I yell from the kitchen. “You’re in charge of setting up the TV. I don’t get my dad’s new system.”

  “I got it,” he calls.

  Really, Luke is like one step up from hanging with the ‘girls.’

  Right.

  I take a few more breaths, as I dump the kernels into Mom’s special popcorn pot. He watches girly movies. He’s pals with my folks. I mean, Shawn gets along with them but Luke’ll drop by just to hang with my dad—which, I guess, makes him less like one of the girls. But he’s as easy as one of the girls. Maybe that’s my point. This is okay. I’m okay here. Shawn shouldn’t care. No big deal.

  ***

  Luke lounges in Dad’s huge chair; I’m sprawled over the couch and we’re both stuffed with chocolate popcorn.

  I’m wiping tears at the end of the second movie. Well, it was West Side Story, not Romeo and Juliet, but I’ve wiped each eye over and over again. My chest is heavy from how they were torn apart, but at least Maria’s smart enough not to kill herself at the end.

  “You need to stop crying at the endings.” He teases, as he stands to stretch. “You know what happens.”

  “You’re the one who brought them. And it was just two. Anyway, I think I’m done.” I roll onto my back. “I feel like a big wimp, crying like this.” I make one last smear with my palms and suck in a deep breath. Done.

  “You think deeply. You feel deeply. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

  I glance at him crouched in front of the TV. He watches me with such goodness and friendship in his eyes. I love Luke like a brother, or a cousin, or something. He’s comfortable, like family. Better than the odd tingles from the other night. “Thanks.”

  He turns back to his task. “Let’s at least watch the beginning of the newest one, okay?” He stuffs the last movie into its case and pulls out the next. “I mean, it’s really not actually new, but it’s the most recent.”

  “The DiCaprio one, right?”

  He smiles wide. “With the kick-ass cars and music, that’s the one.”

  And I do love this one. I love how visual it is. Luke grabs us each another soda and the last bits of chocolate popcorn and sits down on the floor in front of the couch. He leans back and I pat him on the head like my little Luke pet.

  But the movie starts and before the narrator’s done, I’m absorbed—once again taken in by the language.

  “Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes. A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life; Whole misadventures piteous overthrows. Do with their death, bury their parent’s strife.”

  Each word hits my chest and I know I’ll be crying at the end of this one, too. Luke was right to bring so many versions—so many ways to say each line. My breath catches when Romeo and Juliet smile through the fish tank. LOVE it. Love the costumes. I love the break between dialogue, and the passion that practically radiates off the screen. Everything. And I know I’m just watching it, but after hearing the lines over and over every day after school I’m also in it. In the story.

  “We should do that with ours.” I point out. I’m all smiles after watching them jump into the elevator and kiss.

  “Do what?” He turns his head to see me.

  “The costume party like this—Romeo as the knight and Juliet as the angel. I think it would be awesome.” Mostly I want to see Liesl all decked out with angel wings.

  “It would be. I’ll talk to Blackman about it.” Luke thumps his soda can as he drains the last drops from his third Pepsi of the day.

  My front door opens. “Hello?” Shawn calls.

  “In here!” I say back. Suddenly this feels weird. Why would this feel weird? This is just what happens when one of us is stuck at home. Why would today be any different? But my heart’s beating against the ins
ide of my ribs, trying to tell me this is different.

  Luke scoots away from the couch. Does he feel it too? That maybe him and me hanging out alone for the day might not have been the best idea?

  Shawn steps through the hallway and scowls when his eyes meet mine and then pass to Luke. This shouldn’t be a big deal. Except…I’m so stupid. I was just thinking how I needed to make Shawn’s life outside of his house less stressful, and part of me knew it was weird that Luke was here without Shawn. I thought it, and did nothing. But again, it is just Luke.

  “What’re you doing here?” Shawn asks. His dark eyes fix on Luke.

  “I figured you’d be here, man.” Luke stands up. “It’s like we always ditch together, right?”

  Romeo and Juliet kissing in the pool on the TV screen probably isn’t helping anything. Maybe Shawn won’t notice, or maybe it’s just sending my heart into crazy flutters because this tension between Shawn and Luke and, I guess, me, is happening during the most romantic scene of the movie.

  “Uh, I don’t know.” Shawn’s still scowling, his brows pulled low and his jaw tight.

  “You would’ve hated it,” I say. My eyes catch his, but his are as black as his mood seems to be. I’m so stupid. Why did I have to let Luke stay?

  “Yeah, maybe.” Shawn’s narrowed eyes go from Luke to me, back and forth, as if judging the situation. Really ? What did he think could possibly happen between Luke and I? Even if this is suddenly on my top three ‘most awkward moments’ ever. I can’t even think about what the other two might be. Maybe I’ve just found number one.

  “Romeo and Juliet all day.” Luke laughs, but I know him well enough to see he’s trying really hard to be relaxed. His shoulders are too stiff, and his normal stance is too rigid. I wonder if Shawn sees it too. “Guess I’ll leave you two alone.” Luke’s trying hard to keep his voice light.

  “Yeah.” Shawn has yet to return Luke’s smile. “I almost never see my girl anymore.”

  It’s like I’m on the edge of my seat, tension pinpricking every part of me. I’ve never seen Shawn like this.

  “Well, I should get my ass to rehearsal anyway.” Luke gives Shawn a friendly pat on the shoulder before heading outside.

  I don’t watch him go. My eyes are on Shawn, trying to figure out what to expect next.

  “What the hell was that?” His sharp gaze is now pointed directly at me.

  I stand up and lean to the side, trying to be relaxed. “It didn’t seem like a big deal this morning.” Maybe if I play it off as nothing Shawn won’t be so mad. He knows Luke and I are friends. No big deal, I tell myself again. But I don’t know if I’m trying to convince myself or Shawn.

  “Was he here when we were texting?” he asks. His voice may be low, but not in a good way. It’s low in a way that makes him sound like he’s past the edge of reasonable anger.

  My body’s screaming for me to take a step back, which makes no sense. This is Shawn. My Shawn. “No.” But I’m weakening by the second, almost shaking inside.

  His jaw tightens again.

  My eyes close as I remember, and dread fills my chest. “He got here as I sent my last one.” Is that bad? Good?

  “And you didn’t think to tell me? What the hell is that?”

  I jump at the sharpness of his voice. Shawn doesn’t need this stress. I know this. I reach forward to put my arms around him. We just need to hold one another for a minute, then it’ll all be fine.

  He stops me, grabbing my arm—hard—just above my wrist.

  “This is not okay.” His jaw is set.

  “Hey.” My voice shakes. My body shakes. I’m actually scared of Shawn for the first time ever. I jerk my hand once, but he tightens his grip…impossibly tight. My lungs can’t pull in a breath; there’s just not enough air in the room anymore. “Shawn, you’re hurting me.” He can’t mean to hurt me. He can’t.

  His face is stuck in a sharp scowl.

  “He’s your friend.” My voice is crying. I want to try and pull my shaky arm out of his grasp again, but I’m afraid to; he’s squeezing so hard. Tears are hot against the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over.

  “How would you feel if I spent all day with some chick?” The words come out as angry spit from between his teeth.

  I open my mouth to answer but can’t, the lump in my throat has taken over. All I can think about is that I need to find something to say so he’ll let me go. Some way to get the air through my throat to form words. “It’s just Luke,” I plead, sucking in a breath.

  “Whatever.” He throws my arm back at me, turns, and walks out the door, slamming it hard behind him. My body jumps at the sound.

  I stumble backward onto the couch. I’m like a leaf battered about in the wind. Nothing’s working right. I need to sit. Normally I’d run after him, but I have no idea what to expect. And I’m afraid. Of Shawn.

  He’s never been that way before. Ever. He’s moody and particular, but this seems…extreme. I’m cradling my wrist with my other hand, afraid to look at any possible damage. It hurts to move it. What just happened here? How did it happen?

  It’s like there suddenly must be something fundamentally wrong with the universe. But the TV’s still on. My house looks normal and quiet. I’m still breathing, but Shawn, my Shawn, just hurt me. Lying down seems so anti-climactic, but I can’t bring myself to do anything else.

  When Juliet realizes Romeo’s dying the sobs take over, and I pull my knees to my chest as if making myself smaller will somehow dull the pain.

  It doesn’t.

  ~ 6 ~

  I put on a hoodie to hide the ice I have on my wrist, then I lie in bed and read. Normally I’d have my script out, but after a whole day of Romeo and Juliet, I’m done. I really need to find something to keep my brain busy. Thinking about my day with Luke and Shawn’s horrific reaction, won’t change how I screwed up by hanging out with Luke all day.

  “Ronnie?” Dad knocks on my door.

  “Yep.” I let the book lie on my arm. Maybe it’ll mask the ice better than the hoodie does.

  He opens the door and steps inside. It’s always sort of funny to see Dad in my turquoise room. It’s a pretty girly room and he looks displaced, like an alien or something.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” he asks.

  “Sure.” I don’t move. I’m not sure how to keep all my ice, hoodie, and book in place if I do, but I have to keep him from seeing. He won’t understand—he won’t realize the stress that Shawn must be under for this to happen. Actually, this leads me to the problem of Dad saying we need to talk. It’s generally because he’s noticed things that I really don’t want to discuss.

  He sits in my small, white wicker chair. Again. Alien. In the wrong world.

  “You were driving Mindy’s car yesterday when you skipped?” he asks.

  “What?” Even though I know I was driving her car, I’m just trying to figure out where he’s going with this so she doesn’t get in trouble. I swallow down the small lump forming in my throat.

  His face tilts down. He knows I heard him.

  “She let me borrow it.” Seems safe enough.

  “So.” He sits back again. “Mindy let you borrow her car so you could skip. And you skipped by yourself?” His fingers rub his chin like I imagine he does with his patients. He’s watching me too carefully.

  I force my breathing to remain the same. “Yep.”

  “Why?” The crinkles around his eyes are really starting to show. A combination of age and suspicion.

  “What?” Again, answering a question with a question gives me thinking time. The problem is Dad knows this trick.

  Again, his stern look.

  Okay, the best way to deal with my dad is by being as honest as possible. “I don’t know, Dad. Don’t you sometimes have an off day?” I ask.

  “We all do.” He nods. “I’m just concerned there’s more going on here, that’s all.”

  “I just…I just wanted out of school. Next time I’ll call. I knew I’d get caught witho
ut a car, and Mindy didn’t mind letting me use hers…” I do a half shrug as I lie on my side. Looking relaxed is always good.

  “I won’t tell her parents if she was with you, but if she was, and you took the fall alone, it makes me wonder why. I also wonder why, if you were alone, you bothered to skip at all. If you took the fall and let Shawn hide, that’s completely not okay. And you don’t seem nearly as upset about your weekend as I would have guessed, so I’m kind of wondering what’s going on with that as well.” Dad’s brown eyes stare into my darker ones. He’s pretty much hit on everything—aside from my disastrous day today. The signs of that incident are hiding under a book, a pile of ice, my hoodie, and what I hope is a perfectly neutral expression.

  “Dad, I think your job as a shrink is bleeding into your role as my father. And honestly.” I smirk. “I’m a little concerned.” Ha! Diversion. That should be good.

  He smiles. “Fine. But I’m worried about you. I’m not a shrink, I’m a therapist. And please, please, if something’s going on let me or your mother know, okay?” He stands up, his eyes still on me, waiting for a response.

  “Okay.” I give him what I hope is another relaxed, reassuring smile as he steps out of my room. Then I allow myself to flop back over.

  Talk to my mother? Funny. As much as I love my mom, she doesn’t notice things, not the way they really are. I sometimes wonder if she wanted to be a mom, or if it was really my dad who pushed to have kids. She loves me, I know this, so I’m not bothered. She just somehow doesn’t fit the mother stereotype I have in my head.

  The other thing is that if I did talk, all they’d do is overreact. No one wants to hear about their little girl trying to come up with the courage to have sex. And both of them would freak if they knew what happened with Shawn today. I’m still sort of freaked about it. Even though I know it was a total fluke. It has to be.

  ***

  The bruise just above my wrist is a startling rainbow of purple and blue, and shots of pain go up my arm as I turn my hand. My chest aches at the thought of Shawn so angry, and I have to blink back tears. If I didn’t have a bruise to prove it, I might not believe Shawn could do something like this. He hurt me. The Shawn who loves me, hurt me.