After dinner we piled into Jessica’s car and left, her mom waving at us out the front door like we were preschoolers heading
off on our first field trip. The drive to Alex’s house was long and over gravel roads. After a while I didn’t recognize where
we were—we’d driven down country roads I didn’t even know existed in Garvin.
Alex’s house was a rambling brick farmhouse all but hidden behind a grove of crabapple trees. No lights were on in the house,
which made it look ominous in the night, even though the driveway was clogged with cars.
Just past the driveway, a large gate to a pasture had been pulled open and Jessica pulled onto the grass. Up ahead it looked
like a parking lot, as if all of Garvin had shown for the party, and Jessica eased her car in with the others. As soon as
we tumbled out of it we could hear thumping music off to our left. Ahead we could see the barn, the door thrown wide open,
a square of black light and spinning crescents of colored light spilling out onto the cropped grass.
Over it all we could hear laughter and little squeals and above even that we could hear the sounds you would expect to hear
on a farm—a faraway dog barking, intermittent mooing, frogs chattering near a pond.
Jessica, Meghan, McKenzie, and Cheri practically raced toward the barn, talking excitedly and bumping to the beat of the music.
I followed slowly behind, chewing on my bottom lip, my heart pounding, my legs feeling leaden.
Inside, the barn was packed, and I couldn’t find Jessica or the others in the sea of people. I pushed through as well as I
could and eventually found myself standing at a giant metal tub filled with ice and drinks. Mostly there was beer inside,
but after searching for a few minutes I found a soda and pulled it out. I hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol since Nick died and
I wasn’t sure I could handle it.
“Don’t you want one of these?” someone called to me from behind. I turned to see Josh holding up a beer. “This is a party,
man.”
He stepped forward and took the soda out of my hand and tossed it back into the ice, then rummaged around in the tub and pulled
out a bottle of beer. He twisted off the top.
“Here.” He flashed me a smile that showed all of his teeth.
I took the beer with shaking hands. I thought about Nick. About the times we partied together. The times we sneered over how
we imagined people like Jessica and Josh partying. About how disappointed Nick would be to see me drinking with Josh. About
how it didn’t matter anymore, what Nick thought, because Nick was gone. And somehow that thought seemed to make the difference.
I took a long gulp.
“You come with Jess?” Josh shouted over the music.
I nodded and took another swig.
We both listened to the music for a while and watched the crowd. Josh finished his beer and tossed the bottle into a pile
of empties behind some hay bales. He reached into the tub and grabbed another, wavering slightly as he did so.
I took another gulp and was almost surprised to find more than half of the bottle gone. My arms and legs started feeling warm.
My head felt lighter, too, and I was beginning to think that this party might be a great idea. I took another drink and bounced
my head slightly to the rhythm of the music.
“Want to dance?” Josh asked.
I looked behind me at first, sure he wasn’t talking to me. He could barely look at me in those student council meetings. He
hadn’t exactly pulled a seat out for me at the lunch table, either. The change seemed so… sudden.
He laughed. “I’m talking to you,” he said.
I laughed, too. And not a little laugh, which sort of surprised me. I tipped the bottle back up to my mouth and discovered
that it was already empty. I tossed the empty bottle behind the hay bale with a clink and pulled another one out of the ice.
Josh grabbed it out of my hand and twisted open the top, then handed it back.
“I don’t really dance anymore,” I said, taking a big swig. “My leg…”
But when I looked down, my leg looked like anyone else’s leg. And, come to think of it, it didn’t throb at the moment, either.
I took another long swallow.
“C’mon,” he said, tossing an arm over my shoulders and leaning in to me. “Nobody will even notice.”
I drank again and licked my lips. He smelled good. Like soap. Some of that masculine soap like Nick used. I loved that smell
on Nick. And suddenly a longing opened up in me so big it hurt. Suddenly I was so lonely I felt as if I were in a cage. I
closed my eyes and leaned my head back into Josh’s arm. Things swam in front of my closed eyelids. I smiled, then opened my
eyes and downed the rest of my beer. I tossed it into the pile and grabbed his hand.
“What are we waiting for then?” I shouted. “Let’s dance!”
I was amazed at how easy the moves came to me. Came back to me, I should say. I could remember a time when dancing was one
of my favorite things to do, and with the alcohol in my system, it was difficult to stay in reality. I remembered a thousand
times dancing in Nick’s arms, him breathing into my neck, saying,
“You’re gorgeous, you know that? These school dances are really lame, but at least I get to be with the most gorgeous girl
in the room.”
The song changed to something slow and I allowed Josh to hug me tight around the middle. I leaned into him, my eyes closed.
The leather sleeves of his letter jacket creaked against my cheek and I soaked up the sound, along with the smell of him,
and the rough feel of his football letter pressing against my ear. With my eyes closed, I could imagine that I was smelling
Nick’s leather jacket, feeling one of its zippers pressing up against my ear. Hearing him telling me he loved me. Telling
me he’d always love me.
For a minute my fantasy was so real I was surprised when I looked up into his eyes and saw Josh there instead.
“I think I should get some air or something,” I said. “My head’s spinning. I think I drank that too fast.”
“Sure,” he said. “Okay.”
We plowed our way back through the crowd and made our way outside the barn. A few kids were scattered here and there, making
out, smoking, playing grab-ass in the wedge of lights and music that slipped through the open door. We rounded the corner to
the side of the barn where nobody was. Josh sat down on the grass and I dropped down next to him, wiping my hands across my
forehead, which was beginning to sweat.
“Thanks,” I said. “I haven’t had a lot of exercise in the past few months. I’m kind of out of practice.”
“No problem,” Josh said. “I was ready for a break anyway.” And he smiled at me. A genuine smile. And it was cool, this party.
Nothing like Nick and I had guessed these parties would be.
Suddenly there was a rustling in the nearby weeds and a trio of guys burst out of the overgrown pasture, heading toward us.
I recognized one as Meghan’s brother, Troy. The other two I knew as older guys who hung around with Troy, but I didn’t know
their names.
“Well, what do you have here, Joshy?” Troy said, standing over us, his arms folded across his chest. “Gettin’ busy with the
murderer’s girlfriend? Risky! Hey, I hear blowing people away gets her hot.”
Josh’s smile blinked out like a lightbulb, replaced by a hard edge I recognized all too well. “With her? No way, man. I’m
just keeping an eye on her. For Alex. Making sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.”
I was almost surprised at how much I felt like someone had punched me in the chest when I heard him say that. It almost felt
like a physical blow. Here I was again, thinking Josh was actually into me, too stupid to see what was real. The old blind
Val back in action. My head was buzzing and I felt tears spring to my eyes.
Idiot,
I thought.
Val, you’re a real idiot.
“Thanks, but I don’t need a babysitter,” I said. I tried my best to sound tough, unaffected, but a quaver rode on top of the
words and I found myself pressing my lips together instead. “You can go now,” I said when I was able to pry them apart again.
“I was just leaving.”
Troy crouched down and squeezed my knees with his hands, staring directly into my face, too close for comfort. “Yeah, Joshy.
You can go. I’ll hang with Sister Death.”
“Cool,” Josh said. He scrambled to his feet and was gone. As he rounded the corner of the barn, he looked over his shoulder
at me one last time. I could almost swear I detected a look of regret in his face when he did that, but how could I possibly
trust anything I saw anymore? I was, like, the world’s worst at reading what anybody was thinking. I might as well have
GULLIBLE
stamped across my forehead.
“If she gets out of line,” Troy said, leaning in so close my hair moved in puffs when he talked. “I’ll just talk to her in
her own language.” He cocked his forefinger and thumb into a gun shape and pressed it to my temple. I shrugged away from him
angrily.
“Get away from me, Troy,” I snarled, trying to stand up. But his grip on my leg tightened, his pinky digging into my thigh
dangerously close to my scar. “Ow, you’re hurting me. Let go.”
“What’s the matter?” Troy said. “Not so tough without your boyfriend?” His mouth was so close now I felt little pieces of
spittle hit my ear. “Alex told me you were coming tonight. Seems your new buddies aren’t too thrilled to have you hanging
around their parties.”
“Alex isn’t my buddy. I’m here with Jessica,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving anyway. Let go.”
His fingers gouged into my leg harder. “My sister was in that cafeteria,” he said. “She saw her friends die, thanks to you
and that puke boyfriend of yours. She still has nightmares about it. He got what he deserved, but you got a free pass. That
ain’t right. You should’ve died that day, Sister Death. Everyone wishes you would have. Look around. Where is Jessica, if
she wants you here so bad? Even the friends you came here with don’t want to be with you.”
“Let go of me,” I said again, pulling on his fingers. But he only pinched tighter.
“Your boyfriend isn’t the only one who can get his hands on a gun, you know,” he said. Slowly he eased himself up to standing
again. He reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out something small and dark. He pointed it at me, and when the
moonlight hit it, I gasped and pressed myself against the barn wall.
“So was this the kind of gun your psycho boyfriend used?” he asked, turning the gun in his hand contemplatively. He aimed
it at my leg. “Do you recognize it? It’s not so tough to get ahold of one. My dad hides this one in the rafters downstairs.
If I wanted, I could make people go away, just like Nick did.”
I tried to look away, to force myself to be strong, to get up and run at least. But I couldn’t look at anything but the gun
gleaming in Troy’s hand and I felt boneless, my muscles useless. My ears started ringing just like they had on the day of
the shooting, and I felt like I couldn’t take a breath. Images of the Commons tried to force themselves in on me. “Stop,”
I half-grunted. Tears sprang to my eyes and I wiped them away with shaking hands.
“Stay away from my sister and her friends,” he said.
“This is lame, man,” his friend said. “C’mon, Troy, I’m losing my buzz. That thing isn’t even loaded.”
Troy stared at me, his face pulling into a smile. He wiggled the gun at me and laughed like it was all some big funny joke.
“You’re right,” he said to his friend. “Let’s get out of here.” He shoved the gun back in his waistband and they took off
around to the front of the barn.
I sat on the ground making a raw, ragged sound in my throat that was not quite a cry and not quite a gasp, but something in
between. I felt like my eyes were bugging out of their sockets and all I could think about was getting away. I struggled to
my feet and ran with all my might through the pasture and toward the road, ignoring the pain in my leg that throbbed every
time my foot hit the ground.
I kept running until my lungs felt molten and then I walked, first down gravel roads and then onto paved ones, following the
railroad tracks to the highway. Once, I stopped and sat on a low wall by a pond to catch my breath and let my leg rest. I
crawled to the edge of the pond and lay on my belly, splashing my face with the cold water. And then I sat there, my jeans
soaking up the damp ground under me, staring up at the sky, which looked so clear and full of promise.
Finally I made it to the highway and shortly to a gas station. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Dad’s cell
phone number. The one I’d added to my contacts list, thinking,
I’ll never call it. I’ll never call him
.
I waited through two rings.
“Dad?” I said. “Can you come get me?”
Dad came to get me at the gas station in his pajamas, his face angular and intense, his hands gripping the steering wheel
tightly. He didn’t look directly at me as I slid into the front seat next to him, just sat there staring straight ahead, his
jaw clenched.
“You been drinking?” he asked as he pulled out of the gas station parking lot onto the street.
I nodded.
“Dammit, Valerie,” he said. “This is why you called me? Because you’re drunk?”
“No,” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. “I’m not drunk.”
“I can smell it on you.”
“I just had a couple beers. Please don’t tell Mom. Please. It’ll kill her.”
He gave me a look that clearly said,
And what about me?
, but thought better of it. Maybe he realized it wasn’t only me that was killing Mom. He had something to do with the death
of her dreams, too.
“I can’t believe your mother is letting you go to parties,” he muttered under his breath.
“Maybe she’s trying to trust me,” I said.
“She shouldn’t,” he answered, glancing at me as he pulled onto the highway.
We drove on in silence, Dad shaking his head every few seconds disgustedly. I stared at him, wondering how it was that we
got to this place. How the same man who held his infant daughter and kissed her tiny face could one day be so determined to
shut her out of his life, out of his heart. How, even when she reached out to him in distress—
Please, Dad, come get me, come save me
—all he could do was accuse her. How that same daughter could look at him and feel nothing but contempt and blame and anger
and resentment, because that’s all that had radiated off of him for so many years and it had become contagious.