by Keilan Shea
Until I hear a gasp.
It comes from Eve, and it draws every pair of widening eyes. It’s as if I’m naked or some exotic zoo exhibit. The urge to cover my stomach, my chest, almost convinces me to crouch down and curl up into a ball, but I don’t. I keep my hands at my sides, straighten my spine. I watch them watching me and I wait.
“Oh, Teagan,” Sarah says. It’s nothing rude, but the pity dripping off her words is like boiling water. My skin burns, and I choke. I can’t hold on and pretend everything is normal when they can’t either. I run.
I tear my things out of my locker as Coach Brown announces her arrival in the gym. I don’t bother changing. She might try to chase me down. Everything blurs around me except for the crystal-clear path of escape: sidewalk to asphalt to the large gaps between cars. My hands tremble as I unlock my Prius and scramble inside. I sink as far into my seat as I can. I curl up and cover myself with Dad’s jacket so I’m transformed into a pile of stuff. It’s too hot for this. The sun’s been beating down on my car for hours and continues its onslaught, but I suck in the heat and let it singe my lungs.
The golden chain securing Mom’s locket twists around my fingers. I blindly grope for Corey’s slingshot with my free hand. When sugar-maple wood meets my skin, I trace the Y shape and squeeze my eyes closed so tightly my head throbs.
I can’t do this, so many hours of pretending without a single break in between. Playing a part for Harvey and my ex-therapist was child’s play in comparison.
My gasps become coughs, and sobs become hiccups. Snot runs down my nose, and I curl up tighter. If I could make myself shrink until I disappear, I would, but that’s not how reality works.
I want to scream, but I remain quiet so that no one will hear me. Someone else in the parking lot doesn’t care if he’s overheard, though, or he must not think anyone’s around. His voice is harsh. The heat covering my ears reminds me of his breath as he whispered his salacious words.
“It’s a simple request,” Blake Earnshaw says. “I think I’ve earned it. I do everything you tell me to and I’ll continue to if you send them here. No. That’s not good enough. I’ll drag our name in the dirt, Father. It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Didn’t you see what was uploaded today?” There’s a brief pause. “Let me come home, then.”
He must be on the phone because I’m only getting half of this conversation.
“Damn it!”
Something crashes and I dare to peek out my window. The cars that would have blocked Earnshaw’s Roadster from view are gone. He’s pacing back and forth in that space, stomping on the bits of a demolished smartphone. Then he sticks his hand inside his pocket and produces … a burner phone.
He holds the burner phone to his ear and says, “Ricky, I need another favor. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” Then he gets into his car. This Tesla can’t be too smart because it doesn’t detect the nail. Earnshaw drives forward. That’s when something tips him off. He’s out of the car in a flash, scanning the tires until he finds the one with the nail. That’s a good gouge. It’s losing air fast. Earnshaw taps it. Then he kicks it. One, two, three, four, five—
His forest eyes lock onto me as he holds his phone near his mouth. “I’ll call you back.”
Fuck.
No.
I lock my doors and start my engine. I’m acting guilty as hell, but his eyes are so cold. I’m shivering, zipping up Dad’s jacket. I jump when Earnshaw smacks my window with his hands. The sound is brief, more of a tap. He didn’t hit it that hard, but tell that to my nerves.
“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says.
My throat is dry, but I swallow. “In all fairness, you started the fight today.”
“Wrong. You ran into my car this morning.” Earnshaw knocks on my window, the beginning of a foreboding drumroll.
I do something rash: I hit the gas to pitch forward. Earnshaw jerks backward, but is otherwise unfazed and unharmed.
“See you tonight, Hackett!” he shouts.
I peel out of the parking lot and nearly lose myself to my revolting Prius. “I am in control of the car,” I mutter and straighten the steering wheel.
A lot of good that did me before.
The blood drains from my hands, but I don’t let up. I push away what I did, how I shouldn’t be driving, and try to process what just happened.
CHAPTER 11
When I arrive at Harvey’s, Sarah calls. She rushes out an apology, makes sure I’m okay, and tells me Coach Brown was furious with the team and even dropped practice for the day. She talks so fast I can’t get in any more than a “yes” or a “no.”
“It’ll be different on Monday,” she says. “I promise. Coach Brown wants you to meet her in her office first thing after school.”
“Okay.”
“You’re still coming to the party tonight, right? It’ll be fun. Anyone who looks at you funny will meet my fist.”
“Sarah, I’m okay.”
“Of course you are!”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“I would have answered your texts and calls this summer if I hadn’t forgotten my phone. I really am sorry.”
“I know. It’s all good. Forget about it. See you tonight?”
“Tonight.”
After changing and stuffing my obscene workout clothes into my backpack, I set my phone and Mom’s locket on the hardwood end table in the living room and plop onto the firm couch. Rex joins me. It’s crowded, but I prefer him smothering me to not. I lie down and the Great Dane tries to lie down beside me. I hug his head so he doesn’t think about turning around. No one likes dog ass in their face, and his farts are brutal.
I don’t know if I dozed off at one point or what, but that annoying Are you still watching? message from Netflix is on the TV screen. Apparently I was watching Hideaway. Sort of. I took one look at Chloe and her petite perfect everything and zoned out, replaying Blake Earnshaw’s tantrum in the parking lot. That guy has a bad temper, but I should have stood my ground. Nothing would have happened if I hadn’t locked up and driven away.
Maybe. Maybe not.
He genuinely scared me back there. I can’t stop thinking about his last words, that he’ll see me tonight. The words themselves can’t be construed as a threat, but what if, in his mind, I’m his smartphone?
I shudder. Blake Earnshaw is insane. Was he demanding his drugs over the phone? Why would he think they’re in his father’s possession, though? Stop thinking about it.
What I should be doing is homework, but I’ve yet to find the motivation for that. I’m conserving my energy for the party tonight. It’s the most important thing on my agenda, the only thing that’ll get me off this couch in the next—I glance at the time, 5:15 p.m.—couple of hours.
Now, where is that remote? The couch must have eaten it. The squeak of the front door opening sends Rex tumbling off the couch. He catches himself and lopes out of the room to greet Harvey. I shove the cushions aside and thrust my hand between the gaps to no avail. I drag myself to the edge of the couch so that my torso can flop over the side like a wet rag, and I search the ground. At last, the cool plastic touches my hand.
“I’m home.” Harvey walks in from the adjoining kitchen.
“Welcome back,” I say.
“What are you watching?”
“Hideaway.” Since Harvey’s here, I let the TV screen stay the way it is.
“How was school?”
“Great. Johan and Sarah really missed me and welcomed me back with open arms.”
“They’re good people.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky. If Johan wasn’t Johan, he would have dumped me over this.” Come to think of it, with how persistent they were, it’s kind of strange Johan and Sarah didn’t try to visit me this summer. Sarah and Johan know Harvey pretty well since they met and talked at my house many times. All summer, Harvey told me I should see my friends, so I’m sure he would have let them come over. It would have been the ideal in
tervention.
“That boy adores you,” Harvey says, “but are you okay with it?”
“Okay with what?”
“I figured part of the reason why you didn’t want to face him is because of your scar.”
“Johan adores me, right? The scar doesn’t matter. How was work?”
Harvey doesn’t call me out on deflecting. “Great. One of my tight-lipped kids opened up to me today. Everyone needs someone who will listen to them, and I’m glad he trusts me with that. You know, that doesn’t change with age. I’m always happy to listen, talk, whatever you need.”
“I know. Thanks, Harv.”
He comes farther into the living room. “Mind if I sit with you?”
I pat the spot next to me. Once Harvey’s seated, he sighs and unbuttons the collar of his work shirt for some breathing room. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. He’s a bit taller than me, but not by much, so we almost knock heads.
“I love you, Teagan.”
“I love you, too.”
“What did Coach Brown have to say?” The hopeful note in Harvey’s voice is like a knife in my chest.
“I was tired after school. Extremely tired. I came straight here. I’ll talk to her on Monday.”
Harvey is quiet for a moment. “I think it’s time to celebrate.”
“Why? Celebrate what?”
“Moving forward.”
I turn my face away to hide my frown.
“What do you want to do tonight? We could skip a healthy dinner for ice cream and Netflix. I won’t even tell you what a bad idea I think that is.”
I’d prefer anything with Harvey over the party. I could be a couch potato for the rest of the night with no thoughts or obligations besides convincing him not to worry about me, but I have a duty to Mom, Dad, and Corey. I want all Earnshaws out of Raindrop.
“Or I can leave you to watch Netflix by yourself,” Harvey says while patting Rex.
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” I say. “I was thinking about Jane. What happened to her?”
“Nothing. She’s great, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Are you two still dating or did I ruin that?”
Harvey holds me closer. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
“I’ve never met her.” She’s the first person Harvey’s been serious about and no one got to meet her because he was going to introduce us after we came back from Disneyland.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to after everything that happened. Not right away.”
“Fine. Maybe that was a good call since I’ve been kind of prickly, but what about you?”
Harvey frowns. “I see her whenever I’m at work. We talk before bed almost every night.” He scratches the back of his head. “Sometimes for too many hours.”
“Harvey, seriously? I’m going to take your role for a minute. Pumping coffee only gets you so far. Take better care of yourself.”
“I’m taking care. I don’t lose sleep every night.”
“You don’t go out with her, either. You’re at the gym early in the morning when no one should be awake, work, or you’re here with me.”
“She understands.”
“Then she’s the perfect woman. Why don’t you take her to dinner tonight?”
“What would you do?”
“Study. I have homework.”
“Raindrop High doesn’t mess around.”
“At least call her to see if she’s free.”
Harvey lets me go and searches aimlessly through his phone. He watches me, waiting for me to change my mind. I don’t. I confiscate his phone and search for Jane something-or-other in his contacts. Harvey is so straitlaced that’s exactly what I find. No lovey-dovey nicknames, just her first and last name: Jane Davenport.
“Are you sure she isn’t a casual fuck?” I ask.
Harvey raises an eyebrow. “Quite sure. Casual fucking is not my thing. Why would you ask that, anyway?”
“I know you don’t put nicknames in your phone, but you said you’re serious about her. Don’t you think it’s kind of cold to have her full name?” I’m entered in Johan’s phone as Sexy T.
“Your dad had alternate names for every contact in his phone,” Harvey replies. “It was hard to navigate.”
“You are so practical. You have had sex, though, right? You can’t be that serious if you haven’t.”
Harvey rolls his eyes. “Before I lecture you about how everyone is different, please stay out of my sex life.”
“Why? You’re the first person I talked to after I lost my virginity to Johan.” It wasn’t because I didn’t trust my parents, but they tended to avoid this stuff. Harvey believes it’s important to be open about sex with teens, your own teens especially, for their own safety and security. His reasoning is this: if your teenager is going to do it anyway, they should feel comfortable talking to you about it. Of course, he doesn’t exactly approve of it—though since I’m seventeen and therefore at the legal age of consent that doesn’t apply anymore—or the drinking that will be prevalent at tonight’s party, but neither did my parents. Alcohol was a big no for Dad and it still is for Harvey.
“You talked to your mom afterward,” Harvey reminds, “when I promised you that she wouldn’t get mad.”
“You were right. She didn’t, but Dad kind of had a meltdown.”
Harvey grins. “Yeah, I had to talk him down and point out how much he liked Johan.”
If we keep on like this, the tears will come, so I say, “Call Jane.”
Harvey taps the call button and does his teenager impression. It’s a high, whiny voice. “Yes, Mom.”
I place my hands on my hips and hold my chin the way my mom did when she tried to make herself bigger than she was. I did it now, without thinking, because I used to mirror her like this to jest. The happy memory sours and dims into cold darkness. Harvey doesn’t notice because Jane picks up by the second ring.
“Jane, hi,” he says and says nothing else. He moves his mouth but no sound comes out until he manages to ask, “Are you free? I was thinking of dinner. Yes, tonight. An hour? That would be great. Yes, I’ll see you then. I love you, too.”
I nudge him with my elbow after he ends the call. “You act like a teenage boy going on his first real date.”
“No, this is bigger than that. I think she’s the one for me, but when and how do you tell someone that?”
Harvey’s forty-three, but as he’s never dated anyone seriously, I tell him what Dad told me about Mom—even though he knows the story better than I do. “You prepare the perfect night, the whole ring-in-a-wine-glass bit. Except everything goes wrong. You propose a toast, break the wine glass because you’re so nervous, stain your woman’s expensive dress, and tell her you’re an idiot but you love her. And, if she is the one, she’ll love you so much that she’ll laugh it all off. When you cut yourself to retrieve that wine-glistening ring and finally manage to slip it onto her finger, she’ll start happy-crying.”
Harvey chuckles. “Saul was so embarrassed, but he couldn’t stop grinning when he told me this story. Despite things not going according to plan, the night turned out how he wanted, after all.”
“But you don’t have to worry about that tonight,” I add. “When you’re ready, I’ll help you plan the proposal so that it doesn’t go terribly wrong.”
“Your assistance will be much appreciated. Does this mean you wouldn’t mind Jane coming over for dinner sometime?”
“I never minded.” I do, but it’s not because I don’t want Harvey to be happy. I couldn’t ask for anything better. I’ll have to wear my most-convincing face, but it’s all worth it for the end goal.
“All right.” Harvey heaves himself off the couch and calls Rex into the kitchen for his dinner. “You all right fending for yourself, Teagan?”
“Yeah, but I’ll think about that later.” I grab Mom’s locket, placing it around my neck, and waltz down the hall and into Harvey’s room to open his closet. “We need to find you somethin
g to wear. Where are you going to dinner?”
“Some Italian restaurant Jane’s been wanting to take me to. Pasta Palooza.”
“What the hell? Is that in Boulder?”
“She said it is. It’s a dress-up kind of place, but nothing too crazy. Don’t put me in a suit.”
“Got it.”
I forgo the suit, but I do pick out one of his colorful dress shirts and neutral black slacks while he freshens up in his bathroom. After he’s changed, I fuss over him, making minor adjustments with his sleeves. When I carefully fold them to show off his forearms, I think of Blake Earnshaw. Harvey looks nothing like him, but I find myself copying, revealing the same amount of Harvey’s skin even at his chest. It’s effortless, a perfect tease without trying too hard. It’s simple sexy, and Harvey pulls it off well.
“Good enough to eat,” I announce.
“Never say that again,” Harvey scolds, but he’s smiling. “Don’t expect me back before well past bedtime. Will I be exhausted tomorrow? Yes. But it will be worth it. Don’t follow my example, though. Eat a healthy dinner, do your homework, and go to bed on time.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll get right on that even though it’s Friday.”
I practically shove him out the door when he starts second-guessing himself. “I can stay with you, Teagan. Just say the word.”
“Go. Have fun.”
I wave at him as his Honda Civic rolls out of the driveway. I stay at the door to make sure he isn’t coming back. Then I go inside and sigh. I don’t have to talk or pretend anymore until the party.
Rex follows me around as I prepare for my outing. I sift through my clothes and land on a sleeveless shift dress with a crew neckline. It’s white, arguably my best color but kind of bold to wear on my period, and doesn’t reveal my scar. After modifying my white bikini (adding extra foam padding and using an actual needle and thread) to hide my deformity, I put it on as my underwear. Then I slip on a pair of white sandals. The bathroom is my next stop for makeup. I don’t take myself in, the whole picture, until I’m finished. For school, I went light, but for the party, I accentuate my eyes. A little shimmering silver action takes the simplicity to another level. I look good. I’m skinnier than I’ve ever been, but no skinnier than so many models are.
