Leslie's Journal (13 page)

The phone rings. I think it’s him. It rings again. What if it’s the school? Rings again. I’ll say I was sleeping and didn’t hear it. Rings again. And again and again and again, until I can’t stand it anymore. I pick it up.

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Who is it?”

Breathing.

“I said, Who is it?”

Breathing.

I slam the receiver down and dial *69 to find the last number that phoned. I don’t recognize it. I call anyway. It rings and rings and rings. Then someone picks up.

“Is that you, Jason?” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

Silence.

“Listen, asshole, I’m calling the operator. You’re in big trouble.”

I hang up. I report the number. But there’s nothing the operator can do. The call came from a laundromat.

This place is too creepy. I have to get out, go for a donut or something. I have a shower. Get dressed.

Just as I’m doing up my coat, there’s a knock on the door. Help. I don’t make a sound. Another knock. It’s probably not him—but what if? “Who is it?” Silence. I tiptoe to the door. I check through the peephole. I can’t see anyone. I keep the chain on and open it a crack. The elevator door down the hall is closing. The corridor’s empty.

That’s strange.

I take the chain off and open the door wide, ready to head out. And there at my feet is an envelope. My palms start to sweat. I open it. It’s a Get Well card. There’s a personal note inside.

“In sickness and in health,

Yours forever,

Love,

J.”

I lock the door and stay inside for the rest of the day.

Twenty-Seven

T
hat night, Mom and I keep our distance. She doesn’t ask if I went to school, and I don’t tell her I didn’t. I’m going to school tomorrow, though. I have to face him sooner or later, so I might as well do it with other people around for protection. And besides, hiding out breaks my Number One Rule for trouble at school or at home: Never let them see you’re scared.

I get to school minutes before the bell rings. Katie, Ashley and the others are talking at the lockers. Katie gives me a smile and a finger-wave. She’s about to say something when suddenly her eyes go wide, like they do when she’s watching horror movies. I turn. It’s Jason.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t I even get a hello?”

“As in, go to Hell-o?” I say it loud, so everyone will be watching in case he tries to yank me away.

But he doesn’t. He shakes his head, sad and soulful. “There you go again. That’s exactly why I broke up with you.”

For the first time in my life, I’m speechless.

“You gotta do something about your attitude,” he goes on. “Not to mention the other stuff.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do I have to say it in public?” He pretends to whisper, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear. “Last Saturday? That guy feeling you up at the club?”

“You are such a liar.”

“Whatever you say. I don’t care anymore. I’ve had it.” Jason glances around at the eavesdroppers. They look away, embarrassed. Except for Ashley. He flashes the baby blues and winks at her. “Hi.” Then the jerk swivels and saunters off down the hall.

Ashley acts casual, but I know how she’s feeling.

“Don’t,” I warn her.

“Don’t what?” she smiles, all innocence.

“Just don’t.”

“You’re not my mother.”

“He’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I think?”

“Trust me.”

“As if.” And she struts off to class with her nose so high I picture it scraping the ceiling.

Katie takes my arm. “Even if we told, she’d never believe us,” she says in my ear. “Besides, it’s not like he asked her out or anything.”

Let’s hope it stays that way. I don’t want anything on my conscience.

By the end of school, I’ve relaxed. I even figure Jason flirting with Ashley is good news, because it means he’s not taking the breakup so hard after all. Who cares if he pretends it was me who got dumped? He’s off my case. That’s what I’m thinking on my way home, anyway. The idea makes me so happy I turn my music way up and sing along.

I’m so into this other world I almost bump into him. He’s jumped the curb on his motorcycle and blocked the sidewalk. I pull out my earphones. “What do you want?”

“We have things to talk about.”

A heartbeat, then loud and firm: “You’re not getting it back. And if you don’t leave me alone—right now—I’m taking it to the cops.”

“Sure you are,” he mocks. “You don’t want people seeing those pictures any more than I do.”

I toss my head. “Don’t count on it.”

He smiles. “I admire your guts, breaking into my room like that, busting my computer. Mom saw me haul it out of the pool. Told her I tripped carrying it across my room, and it fell out the window. She bought it.”

“She’ll buy anything.”

“Great, eh?” He grins. “Explaining your cell was tricky, though. It plugged our toilet. Nice touch. I have a whole new respect for you.”

“Save it for someone who gives a shit.” I start to move around him.

“Hey, come on, don’t be such a tease.”

I’m past him.

“Where’re you going?”

I don’t answer. I don’t look back. I move fast. He revs his engine. He starts following me, slow, motor almost idling. He could run me down if he wanted. “You’re not supposed to be on the sidewalk,” I say, hard.

He laughs, guns his motorcycle onto the road, races to the end of the block and wheels around to face me. I turn and start walking back the way I came. I hear him gun the engine. He rides past me, turns back up onto the sidewalk and faces me again. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Get lost, Jason.”

“That’s my girl,” he winks. “Make me hot.”

I spit at him, but nothing comes out. My mouth’s too dry.

“I wouldn’t do that again.”

“Oh, really? You want to beat me up on a public street? Go ahead. There’ll be witnesses. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s watching out their window right now.”

“There won’t always be witnesses.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes go dead. “I love you, Leslie,” he says. And with that, he revs his engine. Before I can think to scream, the motorcycle lurches towards me. At the last second, it swerves back to the road and he takes off.

I phone Katie the minute I get home. I can hear her swallow. “He’s probably playing games. Pretty soon he’ll get bored and move on.”

“Or do something.”

“Don’t talk like that. It scares me.”

“You’ve never seen that look of his. So far, okay, maybe it’s all been a game. But what happens when he figures he’s lost? Jason doesn’t lose. Ever.”

“You’re psyching yourself out. He may be a bully, but it’s not like he’s killed people or anything.”

“Yet.”

Actually, “yet” is what I want to say, but I don’t have the nerve. Instead I mumble, “Yeah, you’re right.”

There’s a silence. Then Katie says, “You’re not alone, you know.”

“I know.”

“Love you.”

“Me too.”

Twenty-Eight

N
othing much else has happened for the past week. It hasn’t had to. The idea that it might is just as bad. And I can’t stop thinking about the possibilities because wherever I turn, it seems like Jason’s there.

He’s smart about it. He doesn’t get too close. But he’s always around just the same. In the corridors. Outside my classrooms. At the door to the gym. A couple of tables away in the library. By the pop machines in the cafeteria. Always with that smirky smile and that cool slouch. Sometimes his shades are on, so I can’t tell for sure if he’s looking at me. But he is.

Luckily, I have Katie. She’s dropped everything, including Ashley, to be with me after school. (She’s told her mom she’s making props for the drama club.) We put in time until I know Mom’ll be back from work, and then Katie walks me home.

For waiting, we mostly go to this little park near the school. It’s getting cold, but we huddle up on a bench and watch the world go by. People walking dogs. Kids rollerblading. Moms, some my age, pushing baby carriages. And every so often, a bunch of geriatrics with walkers. They come on outings from the local old folks’ home. By the time they all get off the bus, it’s time to get back on.

These days I’m a real downer. I don’t know how Katie puts up with me, I’m so insane. Like, I hate Jason, but sometimes I find myself missing him, too. Every so often I tuck my head in, squeeze myself into a ball and sob. Katie puts her arm around me and pats my shoulder until I stop. Maybe Beachball was right. Maybe I should go on tranks or something.

Katie tries to cheer me up. “Being happy isn’t easy. You have to work at it.” Talk about cornball. But Katie looks so serious I can’t help smiling. “See. A smile. Good. Now how about a laugh? ‘Laugh and the world laughs with you.’ That’s what Mom says.”

“Your mom is mental.”

“Come on, Leslie. Remember when you first came here, how you hated leaving Seattle and how miserable you were?”

“Earth to Katie: I’m still miserable.”

“Yeah, but you’re not crying about being homesick anymore.”

“Only because I have better things to cry about.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But, Katie, maybe I don’t feel like being happy right now. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And we sit there, shivering, until it’s time to go home.

I haven’t told Mom about the breakup, but she knows. I can tell because she’s extra nice all of a sudden. Like, even though I haven’t been eating much, she hasn’t made a big deal about it or given me a lecture about anorexia. She hasn’t asked me to clear the table either. Best of all, she hasn’t asked questions.

Last night was a close call, though. She’s scraping plates before doing the dishes when out of nowhere she stops, wipes her hands and comes over.

I’m still at the table staring into space, twisting a napkin. Mom puts her hands on my shoulders. I don’t look up. “What?”

“You know, honey,” she says in her Sympathetic-Mom voice, “somehow things have a habit of working out for the best.” That’s one of the biggest lies in the world, but part of me likes her saying it, because it means she cares. The other part of me gets mad, because even though the breakup makes me feel terrible, I know it makes her feel great.

I guess I should be grateful. She could have said, “I know how you’re feeling” or “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I shrug off her hands and get up. “Want some help with the dishes? I can dry.”

“That’d be nice,” Mom says, totally stunned. “Thanks.”

If she wasn’t my mother, I might even like her.

This morning when I get to school, everything’s normal except for one thing—Jason’s nowhere in sight. By the end of the day, I’m starting to have a good time. Maybe I am being paranoid. Maybe I don’t need a bodyguard after school.

I get back home feeling great, grab a snack and sit down to check my e-mails. There’s one from Jason headed: “Hi there stranger.” Inside there’s attachments. I click.

Oh god. It’s photos of me and Katie in the park.

Twenty-Nine

I
forward the e-mail to Katie. She calls right away. “You still think I’m paranoid?” I say.

Katie tries to control her breathing. “Mom always says if you ignore teasing it’ll go away.”

“That’s what every adult says, and it’s a lie. Do nothing and things get worse.”

“I know,” she says in a scared voice. “But what choice do you have? You can’t stop him going where he wants. You can’t stop him taking pictures.”

She’s right. I decide to pretend everything’s fine, hold my breath and hope for once her mother is right.

She isn’t.

Jason works like magic. I never see him. But at least twice a day, when I open my locker, a card falls out with a cheesy message like “You Complete Me.” On the Net, I’ve changed my Facebook settings and deleted him from my Friends list, but my regular in-box is swarmed with e-mails from strange addresses, headed, “Hi there Leslie” or “UR Hot 2Day Leslie,” and photos of me at the corner store or coming home. I change from Gmail to Hotmail to Yahoo. It doesn’t matter. Within a few days, he’s found my new address and the swarming starts again. Honest to god, just going online gives me a rash, and I shake so bad at my locker, it takes forever to land my combination.

Then there’s the phone. It never stops ringing. I let Mom answer. When it’s him, there’s just a click. Like me, she dials *69. The number’s always blocked.

We turn off the ringer at night. I mean, he’s even called at two and three in the morning. The first couple of times, Mom hurried to answer, thinking it was some emergency. I finally told her it’s Jason.

“You don’t know for sure.” That’s what she said, anyway. I guess she doesn’t know what to do either.

After two weeks, it’s all too much. I open my locker before school and out drops another card. I sink to the floor a nervous wreck. And there he is, lounging against the wall opposite, grinning at me.

“Go away!”

He gives this innocent shrug. “What did I do?”

I’m too freaked out to say anything. But not Katie. She walks right up to him and sticks out her chin. “You know, if you really cared about Leslie, you’d leave her alone!”

“
Me
leave
her
alone? She’s the one who won’t let go. Calling my place all the time, sobbing to my mother.” A glance at me. “I wish you’d stop it, Leslie. It’s getting tired.” He sounds so sincere, I can’t believe it.

“You put cards in my locker,” I whimper. “You swarm me with e-mails.”

“What are you talking about?” he laughs. “Are you sending yourself cards and e-mails now? No wonder people think you’re a nutbar.” He cocks his head at Ashley. “Actually, she’s the reason I dropped by.” He smiles at her. “I’ll catch you later, Ash, when Twitch-Brain’s had her meds.” He gives her his famous finger-point, grins and heads off.

Ashley pulls out her books really fast.

“Don’t go after him,” I say. “He’s a rapist.”

“She’s right.” Katie nods.

“And you’re a liar and a baby suck,” Ashley snaps and hurries off.
Baby-suck
. This from someone whose mom won’t let her wear eye shadow.