Authors: Jamie Canosa
Leaning into Kiernan, Doug’s face darkened and the smirk disappeared. “Prove it. Maybe she sent them out. Maybe she likes all this attention. The little sl—”
Kiernan’s fist in his face made an excellent gag. Doug stumbled backward clutching at his
bloodied lip. It was the second time Kiernan had bested Doug, but this time he couldn’t let it stand. This time he had an audience, a rep to protect. He couldn’t just go crawling off into whatever hole he came out of to nurse his wounds. This time he fought back.
Kiernan ducked Doug’s first blow, but a sucker punch to the gut had him doubled over at perfect height for the strike to his head that nearly leveled him.
“Kiernan!” I was on my feet, but had no idea what else to do.
Doug may have been a coward, but he hit the gym at least three times a week to stay in shape for football. Kiernan shuffled backward, toppling his chair before regaining his balance. For a moment, he looked confused,
dazed, but he recovered quickly and launched himself at Doug.
“Kiernan, stop!”
Everyone was standing, getting a better view of the show. Some were cheering, others looked horrified, but no one made a move to intervene.
“Stop it! Doug, leave him alone!” I couldn’t believe this was happening. They were both bleeding and still going at it. And why? Because of me. This was all my fault. “Kiernan! Please!”
Tears pooled in my eyes. If it had been Doug’s goal to make me feel helpless, he’d succeeded.
All I did was cause trouble for the people in my life.
The two of them grappled, fisting one another’s shirts and exchanging blow for blow. One particularly ruthless shot on Doug’s part sent Kiernan reeling backwards. He lost sight of his opponent when his hands came up to cradle his head and Doug took full advantage. Not caring at all that Kiernan was in obvious pain, he advanced on him, grinning like the heartless monster he was.
“Stop! Leave him alone! Don’t do this!”
Kiernan shook his head and took a step back. He wasn’t ready to engage. It wasn’t fair. But Doug had never been one to play fair. I knew that better than anyone.
He balled one meaty fist and, God help me, I’d made up my mind to put myself in front of it if I had to. And I would have if Mr.
Walkins hadn’t chosen that moment to shove his way through the ring of spectators that had formed.
“What’s going on here?”
He was followed closely by Mr. Peterson, the bulky gym teacher and together they managed to pull Doug and Kiernan apart, though it wasn’t done easily. “Principal’s office. Both of you. Now.”
Shrugging off his captor, Kiernan sought me out in the crowd and I cringed at the sight of his swollen lip the bruises already beginning to form along his jawline.
Doug was escorted from the cafeteria under the watchful eye of Mr. Peterson. Mr. Walkins—being experienced in high school drama—let some space build up between them before ushering Kiernan toward the door, as well. I used the time to gather up Kiernan’s belongings along with my own, so that I was ready to follow when they left.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mr.
Walkins didn’t release Kiernan, pulling him up short as he stopped me in my tracks.
“With you . . . I—”
“You stay here. Mr. Parks has enough to worry about.”
Don’t you think you’ve caused enough trouble for one day?
“But, I—”
“Go to class, Miss Carlson.” Mr.
Walkins started to walk away, but Kiernan refused to budge.
“Everything’s
gonna be okay. You go to class and I’ll see you in a little bit. I promise.”
“Let’s go, Mr. Parks.” With an impatient tug, Mr.
Walkins had Kiernan moving again, but his eyes stayed glued to me.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to get my vocal chords to function, but before he rounded the corner, I managed to get my lips to form the words, ‘I’m sorry.’
I went to class like I was told. I sat in my desk, opened my book, and stared at text that meant absolutely nothing to me. The teacher droned on and on at the front of the room, but I didn’t hear a single word she said. All of my thoughts were with Kiernan. The school had a zero tolerance policy when it came to fighting. How much trouble would he get in? How much trouble did
I get him in
?
When he wasn’t there after class, I knew it had to be a lot. Nothing else would have kept him from keeping his promise.
Head down, I plowed through the hallways on my own. I didn’t care what anyone was saying about me anymore. Let them talk. I deserved it. After all, the pictures weren’t photo-shopped. I’d really done those things with Doug. I’d let him look at me like some kind of skeezy lingerie model. If that made me a slut, I guess that’s what I was.
The final bell rang without another Kiernan sighting. Squeezing my way through the pulsating crowds, I broke through the back doors into the senior lot, but the Beemer was nowhere to be found. I made a mental note of the crappy battery life my phone had and that I’d have to remember to charge it every day if I was going to actually start using the thing as I plugged in a quick text.
Are you okay?
His reply was almost instantaneous.
Jade? I’m so glad you texted. I’ve been trying to figure out how to reach you. Are you okay?
Me?
Seriously?
I’m fine. What happened? How’s your face?
It’s all good. They sent us both home. Suspension. They wouldn’t let me see you first. I’m so sorry. I told you I wouldn’t leave your side and now I’m not there.
Suspended? That would go on his permanent record. And
he
was the one apologizing? I was still trying to compute all of that when his next message chimed in.
I’m not allowed on school property, but I can pick you up off campus if you want a ride home.
No.
I’d already messed his life up enough for one day.
I’ll take the bus.
Turning the phone off, I slipped it in my pocket and headed around the building. Students were everywhere, wandering up and down the sidewalk, climbing on buses, hanging out windows to talk to their friends. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t willingly put myself in a confined space with that many people. Not today.
Hefting my books, I zipped up my jacket and started walking.
Ten
My stomach was making sounds similar to those of Kiernan’s bike by the time I finished my homework.
Sick to death of the constant rumbling and headaches, I tore open the cabinets one after another in search of anything to silence it. Nothing. Not a goddamn thing, besides a bag of flour—who the hell knows why we had that considering I’d never seen my mother so much as scoop-and-bake a cookie in my entire life—and a jar of something I’d rather not know what it was, but had been sitting in there for as long as I could remember.
The fridge was no better. Not so much as a slice of cheese, but the shelves were lined with my mother’s special liquid diet.
“Dammit!” I’d had it. I was hungry. I was tired. I was humiliated, despised, and . . . yeah, I was sulking. I was a teenager and it was my God given right.
“What’s your problem?” It was the first I’d seen of
my mother since I got home from school and I wasn’t surprised in the least that her words were slurring. If I ever heard her speak clearly, I’m not sure I’d recognize her voice.
What’s my problem?
She wanted to know what my
problem
was? Throwing the fridge shut, I whirled around to face her, letting my frustration take control. “I’m hungry. I’m freaking hungry, Mom, and there’s nothing to eat in this damn place.”
“There’s a frozen dinner in the freezer.” She shuffled past me, brushing me off like a mere annoyance.
I watched her like she was nuts. “Only the one you opened months ago and tossed back in there.” This got no response, so I elaborated. “It’s all freezer burned and covered in ice.”
“So what?” She turned on me, and I knew it was serious when she slammed the fridge without retrieving what she’d come for. “You too good for what I can provide now? You think you can do better? You lazy ass, ungrateful, Queen
Almighty. Why don’t you get a job, your Highness?”
“I will.” I’d been waiting for this opportunity for years and eagerly jumped all over it. “I’ll go out tomorrow.”
The thing about jumping was I usually landed on my face. “You will not!”
“What? But you said—”
“You start bringing in pennies and mess up my unemployment . . . You really think you can provide better for this
family,
” she snarled the word as though it offended her, “with some part-time, snot-nosed, after-school job flipping burgers?”
If I could control how the money I made was spent? Without a doubt. I didn’t tell her that. I did what I did best, shut my mouth and wished I’d never opened it in the first place.
“That’s what I thought.” She threw open the fridge again and grabbed a cold one. “What’s wrong with you today, anyway?”
At least it was an acknowledgement that I wasn’t usually this much of a bitch. “Nothing.”
“Well, obviously something.” Throwing open a drawer, she rummaged around inside.
I sat at the table
, watching her. She actually wanted to know? I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had taken an interest in my life. I knew it was a mistake. I knew I was setting myself up for disappointment. But I was hurting and, dammit, I needed her.
“You remember Doug?”
“Who?”
“The guy I’ve been dating for the past two years.” She gave a non-committal shrug that I knew meant she had no clue I’d been dating anyone. “We broke up.”
“This is all over a guy?” She looked appalled by the idea.
“Not exactly.” God, this was embarrassing. Who told their mother this stuff? But judging by how glassy her eyes were, she wouldn’t remember any of it, anyway. “He took these pictures without me knowing. They were . . . personal. When I broke up with him, he spread
them around school for everyone to see. It was humiliating.”
“
Personal
pictures?” She slammed the drawer shut, losing her balance slightly as she spun to face me. “You starring in porn now?”
If my eyes had gotten any wider, I’m fairly certain they would have rolled right out of my head. “I didn’t know—”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“No! I never—”
“You had better be using protection. I swear if you get pregnant—”
“Mom! I didn’t sleep with him!”
“Sure you didn’t. I don’t give a crap what you do, Jade, but I am telling you right now, if you get pregnant you will be out on your ass so fast it’ll make your head spin. I served my time with you. I am not raising another unwanted baby.”
I
sat there, watching her disappear down the hall into her bedroom. How could she say that? How could she say that and just leave? How could I have been stupid enough to expect anything different?
I knew the truth. I’d
always known it. She’d never made any secret of the fact that I was the biggest mistake of her life. But to hear it out loud, to have it thrown in my face like that, hurt worse than I could have imagined. It felt like there was a knife sticking in my heart.
Dragging myself up from the table
, I threw open the fridge looking for any kind of distraction I could find. Almost every shelf was lined with beer. Bottles instead of cans this time. A rare treat. Pulling one from the shelf, I studied the cold, dark glass in my hand. It worked for her. Why not me? It seemed only fair. She caused the pain. She should erase it. I found the bottle opener in the drawer under the microwave and cracked it open.
The
first sip was nasty. The second and third went down a little easier.
“Are you . . .
drinking
?” Mom stood in the kitchen doorway with a look on her face that I couldn’t decipher.
“Yes. Yes, I am.” I twirled the bottle in my fingers, practically daring her to say something about it.
Stumbling past me, she grabbed the opener from where I’d tossed it on the counter top and popped hers open, tipping it at me in cheers. “Good for you.”
I stared at the spot where she’d stood long after she was gone. I think I may have been in shock. That was possibly the most encouraging thing she’d ever said to me. And it was about her underage daughter consuming alcohol. Way to go
, Mom.
It filled me with the urge to dump the bottle down the drain. I dumped it down my throat, instead. And then another.
By the third, it stopped tasting like crap and I cracked open another.
The floor seemed to shift like the kind in a fun house as I made slow progress toward my bedroom. The walls shot out to meet me, causing me to bounce off of them as I went. It
would have been funny if it hadn’t been so damn annoying. My bedroom door seemed to be miles and miles away. Too far to walk. I considered calling it quits and camping out in the hall for the night. I had no idea what time it was, but it must have been late and I was wiped. I’d had a long time to think, sitting at the kitchen table, just me and Bud. My bud, Bud. That was funny. I snickered as I bumped into yet another wall. Dammit, where had that one come from?
My mother didn’t want me, but that was okay. Even understandable. I’d ruined her life
, after all. Sent my father away and instead she got stuck with me. Not exactly what I’d call a fair trade. But if I had a baby, it would be different. I would be different. I didn’t want to be anything like her. And I needed to make sure somebody knew that. Somebody who may actually remember in the morning, so they could remind me.
I found m
y cell lying on the middle of my bed. It took forever to turn on. The screen was glowing with several unread messages from Kiernan when it finally did, and I took it as a sign. Why not? He’d put his number in there for a reason, right? And he’d never let me forget. I could count on him.
Dialing Kiernan’s number was made more complicat
ed by my apparent lack of hand-eye coordination, but eventually it started ringing.
“Hello?” His voice was warm and deep.
“Hello.”
“Jade? What’s going on? Ar
e you alright?”
“I need . . . to tell . . . you something.”
My lips seemed to be moving slower than my brain. Flopping back on my bed, I smacked my head off the wall and cursed under my breath. That hurt.
“A
re you . . . drunk?”
“
Maaaaybe.” I rubbed the back of my skull and smiled. Teasing him was fun.
“What the hell is going on?”
Oh, right. I called for a reason. “If I was pregnant, my baby wouldn’t be unwanted.”
“Wait. Slow down. You’re pregnant?”
“No! Why does everyone think I’m a slut?”
“I don’t. Jade, I’d never think that. I’m just trying to keep up here. Please tell me what’s going on.”
“I said
if
.
If
I had a baby, I would want it. Love it.” Why was that so hard to understand?
“Of course you would. I don’t understand where this
is coming from, though.” He sounded genuinely confused and it was giving me a headache. Or maybe that was the wall. Or the alcohol? Trying to figure it out was only making it worse.
Instead, I focused on the point of the conversation. There
was
a point. “Because that’s what mothers are supposed to do.”
“Did something happen with your mom?” Look at him go, my own personal Sherlock.
“She . . .” I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say it out loud. Not to him. I couldn’t let him know that not even my own mother wanted me.
“Jade, please. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Now he sounded sad. And that made me sad. I just wanted to make him happy again. Make all of this go away. But the pressure clogging my throat made it so difficult.
“She said . . .” I doubt he understood anything that came out of my mouth after that. I didn’t even understand it as I dissolved into stupid, exhausted tears.
“Don’t cry. It’s alright. I’m on my way.”
The phone went dead before my sluggish brain had a chance to process his words. He was on his way? Where? Here? God, I was such an idiot. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? My mother was right. I was unwanted. I didn’t even want myself.
I wanted to crawl underneath the blankets and hide, but the need to pee overwhelmed even my own self-loathing. Thank God the bathroom was right across the hall. It only took five minutes to reach it. Afterward, I sat there longer than strictly necessary, contemplating life—or life as seen through beer goggles, anyway. I thought they were supposed to make things look better, but not even intoxication improved my life. There had to be something. Something that could make the pain go away.
After washing my hands, I rooted through the cabinet for anything I could find.
The small tan bottle of prescription pain pills the doctors had given my mother after her accident was sitting on the bottom shelf. They were probably expired, but stronger than the normal stuff, so that should even out, right? And they existed to take away pain. Perfect. Clutching the bottle in my hand, I began the arduous journey back to my room.
Collapsing on my bed, I popped the lid and looked inside. About half a bottle left. There was a long moment where I briefly considered what would happen if I just swallowed them all. That should do the trick. And
, really, who would miss me? Who
could
miss me if nobody wanted me? I’d be doing the world a favor. It was only a moment. A foolish moment. But it was the longest moment of my life as the harsh truth settled into my heart.
A knock at the door drew me from my grim thoughts. I made no attempt to move. Maybe if I ignored him
, he’d go away. No such luck. There was another knock followed by the sound of the doorknob turning. I really should start locking that thing.
“Jade?” A soft tap on my bedroom door was the only warning I got before it swung slowly inward.
Holy Moses, Kiernan was standing in my bedroom in nothing more than low hanging sweats and sneakers, sans socks. That amazing abdomen was completely bare and just as drool worthy as it had felt beneath my hands. But it was his bare ankles that I couldn’t stop staring at. Somehow, they seemed more intimate. Or maybe I was just desperately avoiding looking at his face.
“What are you doing?” I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him, but I could hear the genuine concern in his voice.
“I’m sitting.”
“What’s in your hand, Jade?”
“A bottle of beer, Kiernan.” I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t bear to have this conversation with him. I hated that he was seeing me like this. Hated myself for causing all of this in the first place. For bringing him here.
“
Your
other
hand, Jade.”
“My mother’s pain pills.”
Kiernan inched his way closer, licking his lips anxiously. I don’t know what he had to be anxious about. It’s not like I was in any state to hurt him. Not that I could hurt him in any state.
“What are you doing with them?”
“I hurt.” The answer was simple enough, but it seemed to confuse him further.
“Where do you hurt?”
“My heart.” Alcohol, the great lip-loosener. I wanted to smack myself, but that would have required too much coordination. And effort. “My heart hurts, Kiernan.”