by Hart, Rebel
And how to tap-dance around his father in the process.
The school lunch bell rang and I sighed. I gathered my things and rushed to my locker, exchanging one set of books for another. I held back tears as I twirled the dial to unlock it. At this point in my day, Clint would have come up and put his hand on my shoulder. Spun me around. Grinned down at me with that shit-eating grin of his before offering to carry my books. Yet his touch didn’t come. That grin didn’t appear. I stuffed my books into my locker and grabbed the ones I needed for the back half of my day, feeling my stomach growling out for food.
But I wasn’t hungry.
I didn’t have the energy to eat.
Michael walked up to me. “Ready for lunch?”
Allison giggled. “There you two are. I walked into the cafeteria and was like, ‘Whoa, where is everyone?’”
She let out a forced giggle and I sighed. I closed my locker door and gave my best friend a polite smile, trying to thank her for her efforts. Then she put her hand on my shoulder. Much like Clint would have had he been there.
“He’s going to be okay, Rae. I promise.”
Michael took my books. “Yeah. He’s strong as hell, and stubborn. He’ll pull through this.”
“I know. I know you guys are right. It just… hurts. The murmurs hurt. The rumors hurt. And make me angry. I just wish this school wasn’t what it is, you know?”
Allison snickered. “You and me both. Now let’s go get some food.”
Michael sighed. “I’m starving. Is it pizza day yet?”
They managed to make me smile as we walked our way through the cafeteria. We got our food and sit down in our usual spot, with my books piled beside me. I only picked at a few things, though. Softly sipped my soda. What I wanted was to go back to the hospital. What I wanted was to be eating with Clint. What I wanted was to not be reminded constantly of what happened to him. What happened to us. What happened that night.
But every single student wanted a slice of the pie. A sliver of the drama all to themselves so they could feel important.
“Well. I wasn’t sure if you’d show up today or not.”
Roy’s voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Especially since you weren’t here Friday.”
And of course, there was Marina’s voice. Right alongside his.
Allison scoffed. “You guys can just walk away.”
Michael nodded. “Yeah. Leave her alone for now. This is serious.”
I turned around, catching Roy’s grin. “Oh, I know it’s serious.”
Marina giggled. “I hear he’s busted up pretty badly.”
I shrugged. “Then I don’t know why you’re smiling. Or laughing. Or even over here in the first place.”
Roy chuckled. “Just wanna know, is his face busted up as badly as everyone says it is?”
Marina licked her lips. “There are a lot of rumors going around. Broken nose. Black eyes. Dislocated jaw. No teeth. Lost tongue.”
“Guess he’s not gonna be such a looker anymore, huh?”
I shot out of my seat. “You want to try running that by me again?”
“Rae, no.”
“Rae, sit down. They aren’t worth it.”
Roy nodded. “You should listen to your posse.”
Marina smiled brightly. “I heard he’s on a liquid diet for the rest of the school year because his body got mangled with that drop.”
Roy laughed. “You think he can still get it up, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know, baby. I’m more curious to know if Rae will stay with him if he can’t.”
“That’s it!”
I lunged at them, but Michael stood up. Marina took a step back and cradled into Roy’s side, as he shot me a death glare. I swiped my hand out, catching my nails across Marina’s face as she cried out in pain. And as the blood surfaced on her skin, Roy hissed at me.
“You’ll pay for that, you freak.”
Michael pressed his lips to my ear. “Calm down. Stop it. That’s enough.”
Allison stood up. “We need to get out of here. Teachers are coming.”
Michael threw me over his shoulder as Allison gathered my books. They rushed me out of there are Marina whimpered like the bitch she was in some corner. Probably ready to suck Roy’s dick to make herself feel better. Hot tears of anger raced down my cheeks as Michael jogged me down the hallway. Like I weighed nothing. Like I was nothing.
I am nothing.
I fell limp to his movements. I heard Allison huffing as she carried my books in her arms. They took me down to my history class before Michael put me back down on my feet, with Allison dropping my books to my desk.
And again, my eyes fell to the seat Clint sat in every class. Every day, after lunch.
“He’s not here,” I whispered.
Michael rubbed my back. “He’ll be back before you know it.”
Allison took my hands. “And until then, you have a promise to keep.”
Holy shit, that’s right.
I had to talk to Clint’s teachers.
I spent the rest of my lunch break going around to his classes. I sat down with his teachers and told them exactly what was going on. Gave them the story everyone else wanted. And to my surprise, they listened with an open ear and were more than willing to help him.
“I want him to stay on track to graduate. I know if he applies himself, he can still get out of here with just shy of a 3.0 GPA. Which is still good enough to get him into most community colleges.”
“Of course I’ll give you his work. Let me send him a note, too. Let him know he’s missed.”
“Make sure he reads, too. I’m holding you accountable for the accuracy of his pop quizzes. Can you do that?”
Their generosity and understanding were overwhelming.
I gathered everything I needed from his first two periods and slipped it into my backpack. And while I usually kept that thing in my locker, I carried it around with me for the rest of the day. The principal allowed me access to his locker to get the books he needed for his classes. And the inside of his locker shocked me. I expected it to be in disarray. Filled with trash and disheveled with his books stacked on the small floor of it.
However, what I found gave me pause.
“Wow,” the principal said.
I stared at a picture of myself. A yearbook picture of me from freshman year. It had obviously been torn out of a book, and it was taped to the inside of his locker. And beneath my face, a heart. A simple, black ink penned heart. I ran my fingertips along it. I felt tears cresting my eyes. I gazed along his organized locker, taking in his alphabetically-arranged textbooks and his notebooks neatly stacked and named.
I sniffled. “Oh, Clint.”
“It’s kind of you, you know. To help him stay on track with his grades.”
The principal’s voice caught me off-guard and I quickly wiped at my tears.
“I’d like to think he’d do the same for me.”
He snickered. “You seem to bring out a different side of him. A side I’ve never seen before.”
I nodded. “He’s a good kid. He’s just a bad home life.”
“You’d be surprised how common that is.”
The statement made me sick to my stomach.
“I mean, I know Clint isn’t the most well-liked kid on campus or anything. But I’m really glad you guys are helping me out with this. I know he wants to graduate. If anything to get away from—”
I paused before I said anymore. And I watched as the principal nodded from the corner of my eye.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure his teachers work with you. And him. You know, to try and get him graduated.”
I snickered. “And get him off your plate?”
“And get him going in the direction he needs to be in. A direction he deserves.”
“You’re right about that.”
I finished gathering his books and the principal closed his locker. The bag was heavy, but I didn’t care.
A small price to pay for helping Clint recover and do what I know he wanted to do. My only regret was that I had to work tonight at the grocery store. Which came with its own set of worries and hesitations.
Like what the hell the manger would think—or say to me—once I walked through those doors.
I’ll be there soon, Clint. I just have to get through work.
And I hoped with all my might I wouldn’t be scared closing at work again after school.
14
Clinton
Cecilia clicked her way into the room. “Guess who’s calling!?”
Oh, goody.
I groaned as she sat on the edge of my bed, jostling me around. A laptop got flopped into my lap, and right there on the screen was the face of my father. Stoic. Cold. Still as stone. And I saw him analyzing me even from his laptop. Even though he’d overshot the video conference by an entire day, hey. At least he was calling, right?
“How’s he feeling?” he asked.
I sighed. “He’s feeling fine, Dad.”
“Cece said you had physical therapy today. How’d that go?”
I shrugged. “My neck’s out of that brace, so that’s nice. Still hurts to move, though.”
“Guess that’s what happens when you throw yourself off a ravine.”
I fluttered my eyes over to Cecilia, and she urged me to keep going with a nod of her head. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to talk with my father. But it seemed like it made her happy. And out of all the people who had been the most supportive of me through this trying time, she’d been one of them.
So, why not make her happy?
“Yeah, well. I’ll try not to do that next time.”
Dad nodded. “What did they have you do in physical therapy?”
I licked my chapped lips. “Uh, some stretches with my back. Trying to get these vertebrae to straighten out on their own. Some leg work. Not really arm work, since my collarbone has to heal first.”
“Can you see out of your eyes?”
“Yep. I can see your disapproving stare just fine.”
Cecilia sighed. “Clint.”
Dad’s face fell. “Well, if you weren’t always doing such disappointing things, there would be no need for the disapproving stare.”
“Howard!”
I shook my head. “He’s fine. It’s whatever.”
I felt myself still sweating from the physical therapy. And holy shit, that’d been rough. Walking around made me bust a sweat. But with all those exercises I felt like I was a young child again, relearning how to do everything. Moving my legs took effort. Propping myself up took time. I bent my back every which way, flexing my muscles like I hadn’t moved them in years.
My body was damaged. My soul, weak. And I had a very long road of recovery ahead of me.
Cecilia cleared her throat. “Well, they said his first try at physical therapy went really well. They even gave him a few back stretches most people coming out of something like this can’t even attempt. They think he’s going to do really well.”
Dad grunted. “How many weeks of physical therapy are we talking about?”
I mouthed to my stepmother, “He wants to know the money.”
Cecilia shook me off. “They say six to eight weeks. Then, a re-evaluation to see if he needs another course of it.”
Dad sighed. “Great. I’ll get started on finding a home nurse or something. Which’ll cost me an arm and a leg.”
“Howard.”
I shot Cecilia an ‘I told you so’ kind of look. For my father, it was all about money. How much I cost him. How much he spent on me. How much it took to apologize. What he had to dip into in order to cover the cost of something I’d done. I had no idea how to speak with my father. Well, scratch that. I knew exactly how to talk to my father. I just didn’t care to. This entire time, all I’d wanted was for my father to come home and take care of me. Come home and visit. Field the doctors since he knew the bulk of my medical history.
But, now? Even just this video conference changed my mind.
He could stay wherever the hell he was for all I cared.
Cecilia whispered. “Howard, be kinder to your son. He’s laid up in a hospital and you’re nowhere to be found. I’ll shut this laptop if you don’t.”
Dad snickered. “More time for me to work, then.”
I shook my head. “Do you always have to win every fight?”
The room fell silent as my eyes fell to my father’s on the computer screen.
“Because I really want to believe that you aren’t the sorriest sack of shit I’ve ever known. That you say these things just to—”
“What did you say to me, boy?”
I raised my voice. “Any other half-decent father would be here with their child in the hospital. I almost died, Dad. Actually, I did die there for a little while. I’ve been resuscitated twice, and you act like I’ve stolen your last damn cookie from the fridge.”
Cecilia took my hand. “Clint, take some breaths. Your heartrate is climbing.”
“Yeah, because I’m talking with Dad. So now I’m done talking with Dad. You can take the laptop away.”
My father glowered. “You’re lucky I’m not there, son. Because a hospital bed doesn’t protect you from the whooping you deserve.”
“And I believe I’ve heard enough.”
The doctor’s voice rose from the corner of the room and I looked over. That man looked me square in my face before nodding his head softly. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but damn did I ever want to know.
“Who’s that?” my father asked.
Cecilia paused. “The doctor, honey. It’s the doctor.”
The man in the white coat walked over. “And this conversation is done.”
“I’ll let you know when I’m done speaking with my son.”
I scoffed. “No worries. I’m done talking with him.”
The doctor nodded. “You can remove the laptop now, Mrs. Clarke.”
My father got in one last glare before Cecilia picked up the laptop. I heard him making remarks to himself as she carried the laptop out of the room. Typical remarks from my father. ‘He’s asking for something like this to happen.’ ‘How much did that doctor hear?’ ‘Maybe he needs something like this to teach him a lesson. He drives that bike much too recklessly for my tastes.’
I mean, did my stepmother have the damn volume turned up all the way on that thing?
I sighed as the doctor sat down on the edge of my bed. He patted my knee, holding his hand there as I stared at the wall. I heard him and my stepmother bickering. Again. Over thr computer, out in the hallway. Pissing off people, including me.
“If your heartrate gets any higher, I have to sedate you.”
I snickered. “Good.”
The doctor paused. “You know, there are services for adults, too.”
I slowly turned my head toward him. “What?”
He shrugged. “You don’t fall under the protection of child services anymore. But there are adult services. You know, if it’s always like this with your father.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“I don’t think you are.”
I shrugged. “Then, that’s what you think. But I know how to handle my dad. And in a few months, when I graduate, I won’t have to at all.”
“You know damn good and well that boy had a hand in what happened, Cecilia!”
“He’s just a kid, Howard. Go easy on him. Your son almost died. Don’t you have a heart anymore?”
“Right, of course it isn’t his fault. It’s never his fault when you’re around. He had no hand in it at all, and it’s all me. All the time.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe you should heed my advice for once.”
“He’s my son. Not yours. Can it, or leave. You know the drill.”
The conversation out in the hallway took me aback. I wasn’t sure what to make of it but—but it sounded like Cecilia was standing up for me.
Like she had stood up for me in the past.
“I’ll be right back,” the doctor said.
With one last pat of his hand, he got up. He stormed out into the hallway, walked right up to that laptop, and closed it in the middle of my father’s sentence. I snickered. Oh man, if there was a mushroom cloud in the distance, I knew why. I sighed with relief as I eased myself back into the hospital bed, thankful to have some peace and quiet.
Then I felt Cecilia’s hand fall against mine.
“I’m sorry, Clint.”
I sighed. “Not your fault.”
“I really thought he’d—”
“Give it a few more years. You’ll stop expecting so much from him.”
She squeezed my hand softly as a nurse came in and hooked me back up to a few things. She got my I.V. drip going again. Got the oxygen tubes seated in my nose. And as the nurse tucked me in, I felt my eyes flutter closed. Dad was partially right, though. I did have a hand in why I was run off the road. But not in the way my father thought. I hadn’t instigated anything this time. I’d prevented it. I’d saved Rae from harm by throwing myself in harm’s way. That shit was noble.
Right?
Don’t second guess yourself because of that asshole.
Part of me wanted to tell my father. But I knew how he’d see it. If I told him it was to save some girl, he’d call me soft. He’d tell me Rae probably deserved whatever was coming to her, and that I needed to let her learn her lesson instead of babying her. And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep myself from murdering him if I heard those words come out of his fucking face. Sure, I might have been able to tell Cecilia, but I knew if I told her she’d eventually tell my father. Because she was still in those years where she wanted to please him. Make him happy. Make him proud.
Whereas I’d abandoned those ideals around the time I was fifteen.
Dad won’t understand the idea of defending a woman like that.
Cecilia patted my hand. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
