by Lindy Zart
She hurried up the steps that led to Morgan Creek High, careful not to look at anyone.
Rachel waved at her from her locker. She had on a short jean skirt and black blazer with knee-high boots. Her short brown hair was a disarrayed mess that looked fashionable.
Lola waved back, but kept walking. She unlocked her locker, shoved her backpack inside, and headed for the art room.
“Lola! Wait up.” Rachel fell into step beside her, offering a bright smile. “How was detention? Mr. Welsh is such a jerk.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” An image of Jack’s mocking smile floated through her head. Lola felt something weird in the pit of her stomach and shook her head.
“I’m glad you survived.” Rachel offered a smile Lola didn’t return. “So, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this weekend? My family is going to some dumb movie Saturday night I refuse to go to. We haven’t hung out forever. A sleepover would be fun. What do you think? Want to?” Rachel spoke quickly, her words jumbling together.
Lola looked at Rachel, shocked by the invitation. Rachel looked so hopeful. Maybe she could have a night with no worries, maybe she could forget for a while. You can’t.
Rachel leaned closer, eyes widening. “What happened to your face?”
Lola’s pulse picked up and she averted her face. “Nothing. Why?”
Rachel fell back, but when Lola continued to walk, she caught up. “It just looks…swollen or something.”
“It’s nothing. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll see you in class,” she said in a rush, sounding a lot like Rachel, and veered toward the bathrooms.
Lola was relieved to find the restroom empty. The walls were pink and there were three stalls. The room smelled like soap and paper towels.
She rushed to the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her bones were so prominent they were almost skeletal. Lola flinched at the realization. She needed to eat more.
Hard to do when everything comes right back up.
Lola turned her head to the side. The flesh near the corner of her right eye was pink and puffy. Lola leaned closer, dismayed to find a small purple bruise already forming.
“Great,” she mumbled.
Lola fought tears. She just wanted this to be over. Some days she could accept that she had close to a year to get through before she could leave. Other days, like today, Lola didn’t know if she could do it.
She just wanted him gone. But even if he was gone, what would that mean for her and her mother? Lola didn’t know how things could ever be normal between them again, be how they used to be.
Lola didn’t know if she could forgive her mother for the year of hell she’d subjected her to. Especially when she didn’t even seem to care. The mother she knew and loved wasn’t there anymore and Lola didn’t know if she would ever come back.
A cry of frustration and anger and pain erupted from her. Lola glared at her reflection, hating what she saw, hating what she had become.
She gripped the sink so hard her knuckles turned white. Lola closed her eyes and took deep breaths.
Get a grip. Don’t lose it.
Lola turned the water on and splashed some on her face, hoping it would take some of the swelling away. The bruise she could do nothing about. She arranged her long hair so that it partially covered the right side of her face. It was the best she could do.
The hallway was empty. First period had already started. She was late anyway. All that for nothing.
Art was one of her favorite classes. There were fifteen kids in the classroom, all busy on their projects. They talked and laughed to one another, their biggest concern what they would be doing that night after school. Lola had been like them too, just last year.
She inhaled the scent of paint as she went to her easel. Lola hoped the teacher, Mr. Roberts, wouldn’t notice she hadn’t been there when the bell sounded.
No such luck. He immediately made his way to her.
“Miss Murphy. You’re late.” He was a big, towering man with white hair and glasses. His voice boomed throughout the room and conversations halted.
Her face burned. Great. I’m sure I’ll get another detention.
Lola looked at the outline of a butterfly on the 8 X 10 canvas, keeping her face curtained by her hair. “I’m sorry.”
Mr. Roberts paused. “Is everything okay, Lola?”
Her breath hiccupped and it took her a moment to find her voice. “Yes. Everything’s fine.”
“Okay then. Get to work.” He moved away and voices picked up where they’d left off.
Lola looked down at her tennis shoes.
No one cares.
She pushed her hair behind her ears and stared at her unfinished art project, not sure where to begin. Usually able to lose herself in her painting, Lola felt uninspired and emotionless.
“Look at her. She doesn’t even realize she only put eye shadow on one eye.” Snickers followed Roxanne’s words.
She seemed to be the biggest target of her malice and yet it didn’t immediately register with Lola that of course Roxanne was talking about her.
Lola frowned. I didn’t put eye shadow on any eye shadow.
“Maybe I should give her some makeup pointers.” More laughter and a couple girls chimed in they would help.
She sucked in a breath and quickly blanketed her face with her hair, wanting to disappear. The bruise. She had to be talking about the small purple bruise above her right eye.
Lola kept her face forward and hoped Roxanne would lose interest in her if she didn’t respond.
“Shut up, Roxanne. Like anyone would want makeup tips from you.” There was stunned silence after that because no one said things like that to Roxanne Zanders.
Lola looked behind her and caught Rachel’s eye. Rachel smiled. Gratitude washed over Lola and she turned back to her art project.
As she stared at it, Lola chewed on her lip; an emotion washing over her. She let it encompass her and the outline of a butterfly turned into four black bold letters. Slashes of color made up the background and became interwoven with the letters. Lola set the paintbrush done, breathing heavy and shaking.
When the bell rang, Roxanne sprang to her feet and strode from the room with her posse in tow, but not before giving Rachel and Lola her signature glare.
“You just got an enemy,” Lola said as they walked down the hallway. Kids bustled past on either side of them, loud and full of energy.
Lola’s eyes searched the crowded hallway for a distinct form. She told herself it wasn’t disappointment she felt when she didn’t find him. One or two conversations and a similar home life did not make them anything.
Rachel shrugged. “I’d rather have her for an enemy than a friend. Can you imagine? Dressing and talking like that to fit in, not having a mind of my own, no thank you.
“Besides, I’m sick of her picking on you. You should be too. She only does it because she’s jealous of you.”
“Right.” Why would Roxanne have any reason to be envious of Lola? She was pretty, popular, had a good body, and all the boys drooled after her. No, that wasn’t it. Roxanne was just mean.
As Lola watched, Roxanne stopped at Sebastian’s locker. He had on a dark blue shirt and faded jeans. Roxanne tapped him on the shoulder. Sebastian looked up and gave a half smile, his face lighting up at the sight of her.
Lola’s stomach knotted and she looked away. She didn’t understand why it was still hard to see him, but it was. Probably because she didn’t know what had happened between them that had made them the way they were. And of course part of her missed him.
Rachel pointed at Sebastian. “That, right there, is why she doesn’t like you.”
Lola hurried past them with her head down. Rachel kept up. “That doesn’t make any sense. We don’t even talk anymore.”
“Yeah. What’s that all about anyway?” Rachel leaned against the lockers as Lola unlocked hers and grabbed books for her next class.
Lola slammed her locker door shut. “Nothing.”
Rachel put a hand on her arm when Lola tried to turn away. Lola was forced to look at her. Concern furrowed Rachel’s brows. “Us too. We barely talk anymore. What happened?”
“I’m just…busy.”
The grip tightened on her arm. “And your face?”
Lola glanced at her friend’s determined features. “What about my face?”
“Pretty sure that isn’t purple makeup. Who did that to you? Was it your mom’s husband?”
Lola swallowed. She desperately wanted to tell someone, to tell Rachel. But what would happen then? Rachel would look at her in horror; probably never speak to her again. Or she’d tell a teacher and Lola would have to talk to them, maybe someone would even call the authorities.
Then what? Then nothing would happen. Or maybe she’d be taken from her mother. But most likely it would do no good and she’d be even more alienated than she already was from the kids her age and Bob would just get worse.
The bell buzzed and Lola wrenched her arm from Rachel’s grasp, ignoring her as she called her name. She rushed down the corridor to Geometry, heart pounding. She couldn’t tell anyone.
5
Lola thought she might get sick, but she kept walking. Trying not to hurry, trying not to run, she made her way out into the midday sunlit day. She strode down the steps of the school, intent on putting distance between herself and the building before someone noticed her absence.
The sun was warm on her head and Lola shook off her jacket, shoving it into her backpack as she walked. Old structures boasted of the town’s history and age. Leafy green trees were abundant. The scent of lilacs was heady. Visually it was a beautiful town.
Instead of heading into the main part of town, she went toward the edge of it, toward the wooded part.
Every car that drove by caused her heartbeat to escalate, but none of them stopped. Lola wouldn’t meet the eyes of people she passed on the sidewalk. It seemed to take forever to get to her destination, but really was less than ten minutes.
She wondered what she was doing. Lola had never skipped school before. It was like some reckless being was shoving itself to the surface and taking over Lola. She felt different from who she was now, but nothing like who she used to be.
Lola wondered if Jack would be there. She hadn’t seen him anywhere at school. She wondered if his father had hurt him and the thought caused her throat to tighten.
Grass and dirt beneath her feet, trees all around her, Lola stopped at the clearing. She felt him before she saw him. The air brought the scent of his cologne to Lola. The rock, pale gray and jagged, held no figure. Lola turned in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy.
“Lola.”
She whirled around, hair clinging to her lips. Lola pushed the strands away.
Jack made his way around the rock and toward her. He had on ripped jeans and a white tee shirt; unlaced black boots on his feet. Locks of black hair fell over his forehead and his upper lip curled in its derisive way.
“Miss me?”
When he was a few short feet away Lola saw the cut in his lip, the bloody slit scabbing over on his left cheekbone. She closed her eyes, feeling sick.
A cool, light touch on her right eye had her stiffening. Lola opened her eyes to see the tightening around Jack’s, the way his full lips pressed into a thin line. Their eyes met for one charged moment and his hand dropped.
“What a pair we make, huh?” he said, turning away.
“What happened?” she got out in a voice that sounded rough and unused.
Jack hopped onto the rock like an agile mountain lion. He crouched there, looking straight ahead. The muscles in his arms and legs were taut and Lola’s body responded, perplexing her.
She wasn’t attracted to him. Or at least, she didn’t think she was. She shouldn’t be. Not that he wasn’t handsome; he was. But his features were hard, cynical, angular, cold. Jack Forrester did not have a sunny disposition. He was nothing Lola had ever thought she’d be attracted to.
“What’s your favorite kind of food?”
Lola blinked and looked away from his sinewy form. “I don’t know.”
“Come on. Everyone’s got one favorite meal. If you had to pick one thing to eat every meal, every day, for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
What a silly question.
She didn’t eat much because of her stomach always being upset. Lola used to enjoy food. Maybe a little too much. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, chocolate chip cookies, French fries, hamburgers, pizza; her mouth watered.
“Pizza,” she answered definitively.
Jack shot her a look. “Pizza?”
“Yes. Pizza. You get all your food groups too. Cheese, meat, veggies, fruit, grain.” She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“That’s weak, Lola, weak.”
“What’s your favorite? Something manly like steak and potatoes?”
Jack cocked his head, appearing to give the question a lot of thought. His lips twitched as he answered, “Actually, I like pizza too. But it has to be all meat. Vegetables aren’t allowed on my pizza.”
They shared a smile. Lola’s stomach flip-flopped. She leaned against the rock so her gaze wouldn’t keep going to him.
“How come you weren’t in school today? Because of your face?”
“How come you skipped out?” he tossed back. Jack jumped to the ground beside her, startling her. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”
She stared at his offered long-fingered hand. Lola didn’t understand how she could breathe easier just by being near Jack.
Maybe it was because there was no fear of judgment, of seeing pity and horror in his eyes. Maybe it was because they were going through the same thing; he understood Lola. He didn’t need her to talk about it. In fact, Jack seemed to want the exact opposite; to pretend there wasn’t any terrible thing to talk about.
Lola grabbed his hand and held it tight. Did she imagine he lightly squeezed her hand before releasing it?
They didn’t look at each other as they walked. Over fallen limbs and loose rocks; brittle twigs snapping under their shoes. The sun filtered through the many high branches, a kaleidoscope of heat and light flickering over them. It was silent except for the chatter of small animals and the chirping of birds.
“Favorite band?”
Lola started at the sound of his deep voice. “Uh…Pink?”
“Are you asking or telling?”
“Pink,” she said firmly.
“Why Pink?”
“Because she’s strong, mentally and physically. She’s tough and she doesn’t take crap from anyone. Her music can be light or it can be deep. There’s the pop side to her and the one that makes you feel something when you listen to her music. It’s like there are two sides to her, just like everyone. She’s complicated and diverse and phenomenal. Plus she’s a great dancer.”
Jack was staring at her. “What?” Lola demanded.
“Nothing. Just…that’s a really in depth description.”
“Sorry.” Lola felt her skin heat up.
“No. It’s…I like it.”
Her eyes flew to his. She caught his smile, was warmed by it. “How about you?”
“That’s easy. Muse.”
“Why?”
“They’re kick ass.”
After her lengthy narrative, Jack’s three words made her laugh. He laughed too and her flesh tingled at the too often absent sound.
“How’s Granger’s?”
Lola glanced at him, surprised he knew she worked there. “It’s a job. I’m saving up to get a car.” She shrugged. “Do you work anywhere?”
“Yeah.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a cynical smirk. “I help out on Jared Summers’ farm. Know him?” Lola shook her head. “He lives down the road from us. He’s a quiet guy; decent.”
“Have you worked there long?”
He gave a short back of laughter. “Yeah. Since I was twelve. At least, that’s when I started hanging out there, pestering him.
Every day I walked over to his farm, asking for something to do, practically begging to be put to work. I did what I could, but I think I got in his way more than anything.
“Jared didn’t have the heart to tell me to go home. He acts tough, but he’s really not. I think he knew I needed to be there, needed somewhere to go. When I got old enough, he put me to work.”
“Do you like it?” Lola didn’t know anything about farming, nor did she particularly want to.
It was Jack’s turn to shrug. “Helps buy groceries.”
Lola’s brows furrowed. Jack made her reevaluate her situation fast. People had it worse than her; Jack was one of those people. She knew he would hate her pity; as she would hate his, but she felt so bad for him, for his life that wasn’t really a life.
They were silent after that.
Jack was so much taller than she; her head was barely at level with his shoulder. The sides of their bodies grazed one another as they made their way through the woods. Lola couldn’t believe how comfortable she felt around a boy she barely knew. It was like they were kindred spirits in misfortune. No words were necessary.
Twigs snapped under the weight of their shoes. Squirrels scampered around them, keeping their distance. And the birds sang breathtakingly beautiful songs. It was exactly what Lola needed.
“What do you want to do after school’s finished?” His quiet voice broke the stillness.
Live, was the first thought that popped into her head. Lola stopped walking. She frowned at the truth of it. “I don’t know,” was all she said.
“Liar,” Jack said softly.
Lola’s face heated. She didn’t consider herself a liar; there were simply some things she didn’t want to tell people, and so she evaded the question.
“I want to go to college.”
“For?”
Lola reached down and picked up a twig. She snapped it into little pieces. “I don’t know for sure, something with writing.” The broken pieces fell from her hands. Lola wiped her hands on her jeans.
“I’m going to stay around, probably work at Green Factory operating machinery like my old man. At least until Isabelle finishes school. Then, who knows?”
