Authors: Pat White
Together.
I peek over his shoulder. The flames grow taller and brighter. I dig my fingers into his back. The door window shatters and I scream.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “Shhh.”
Heat burns my cheeks as the fire edges closer.
Suddenly the shrill sound of the fire alarm makes me cry out yet again. Sprinklers shoot water from the ceiling and I bury my head in J.D.’s shoulder.
Hold my breath.
Water drenches us and puts out the fire.
It is going to be okay. Just like he said.
I’m not sure how long we’re huddled there, soaking wet, trembling from adrenalin, fear and relief.
The alarm stops and silence rings in my ears. I don’t move. I cling to J.D. Never want to let go.
“J.D.! Catherine!” Detective Ryan calls out.
“In here!” J.D. untangles my arms from his body.
Detective Ryan steps into the matte room. “You guys okay?”
“Scared shitless, but yeah,” J.D. says.
“Come on out of there.” Detective Ryan motions.
J.D. cups my elbow and leads me into the classroom. Desks are charred black, but the metal chairs survived. Mr. Cooper’s desk is covered with burned paperwork. I glance at the doe print in the far corner. “She’s okay.”
A handful of firemen stomp into the room looking for hot spots, assessing the damage. It’s getting crowded and noisy.
“Let’s go.” Detective Ryan leads us out of classroom.
We walk into the hallway and I stop short at the sight of Greg, pinned to the floor and being handcuffed by a cop.
“No!” Greg cries. “It’s not my fault!”
The cop pulls Greg to his feet and he pins me with hateful, dark eyes. Soul-less eyes. “You bitch!”
He lunges, but J.D. jumps between us.
“Get him out of here,” Detective Ryan orders.
It takes two cops to pull Greg down the wet hallway. “That bitch! It’s her fault! She’s a crazy bitch!” His shrill voice echoes off the high ceiling as they drag him down the hall.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, but it’s not J.D.’s. I know the feel of his touch.
“You okay?” Detective Ryan asks.
“I think so,” I say through shivering teeth.
We’re okay. J.D. and I survived. Together.
“You didn’t get burned? Hit your head?” Detective Ryan asks.
“Nope. J.D. protected me.”
I reach for J.D.’s hand, but he steps away and rubs his wrist where the duct tape left a mark.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I question.
He stares me down. “I can’t believe you walked into the art room knowing what he planned to do. You should have your doctor check your brain for judgment skills.”
“Hey, hey,” Detective Ryan scolds.
“She could have been killed or raped.” J.D.’s voice cracks. “For what? Me?”
He storms ahead of us.
Stunned, I can’t even speak. I glance at Detective Ryan.
“Go kick his ass,” he says.
As I weave my way through firefighters and police, my brain struggles with sensory overload. I’m chilled to the core, surrounded by men barking orders…
And I feel like someone just stabbed me in the heart.
I catch up to J.D. “Hey, stop. Talk to me.”
He turns, anger lighting his colorful eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“That I love you and I didn’t want you to die.”
Shaking his head, he walks away.
No, this can’t be happening. I finally felt accepted, at peace.
With J.D.
And he’s stealing it away from me.
“Why are you running away?” I shout. “Because someone protected
you
for a change?”
He ignores me.
I’m angry and hurt, and I can’t stop myself from lashing out.
“I get it,” I call out. “It gets hard so you run away. You’re a coward, just like your mother.”
J.D. stops, turns and stalks back to me.
I’ve never seen this look in his eyes: vulnerability mixed with hatred.
For me.
“Don’t you…” his voice trails off as if he struggles to control himself.
Crap. I’m not wearing my sunglasses, but I can’t bring myself to look away.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says in a low, threatening voice. “She left because she couldn’t…”
I don’t hear the rest of his sentence.
With a jolt, I’m standing in a bedroom, looking out a second floor window. It’s not our neighborhood. I glance at the bed and see a younger version of J.D. pressing an icepack against the side of his face.
“It’ll be okay,” he says. To himself?
He removes the ice pack. I gasp at the sight of a purple bruise forming around his eye. Shouting echoes from the other side of the door.
“Jesse?” a voice squeaks from beneath the bed.
“Just stay there, Billy. No matter what you hear.”
The pounding of footsteps makes the floor shake.
J.D. cradles the icepack in his hands and hangs his head. “Mom, where are you?”
The door bursts open—
I gasp.
I’m staring up at fluorescent lights. I’m back in the school hallway. That one knocked me on my ass, literally.
“I need a paramedic!” Detective Ryan calls.
“She’ll be okay in a second,” J.D. says.
I blink and look up into J.D.’s eyes, eyes filled with the same vulnerability I heard in his voice when he held the icepack against his cheek.
My heart aches. I reach out.
“Don’t,” he says, grabbing my wrist. “Just don’t.”
He disappears and I close my eyes. I pushed him too far when I accused him of being like her.
He’s nothing like her.
He protected his little brother after she abandoned her kids.
“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Detective Ryan offers.
I open my eyes. “No, please, my parents will freak.”
He helps me stand up and we watch J.D. shove the outside door open.
“I need your statement,” Detective Ryan calls after him.
“I’ll be outside,” J.D. shouts back.
He disappears into the darkness, the door slamming with a deafening thud.
Detective Ryan shoots me a sympathetic look. “He’s an idiot.”
“So am I.”
The bell rang and J.D. booked out of class. He didn’t think school could get any worse.
He was wrong.
Not because of his reputation or homework or the usual high school drama, but because he had to keep his distance from Cat.
Not easy. He wanted her in a way that made him ache inside. He wanted to hear her laugh or watch her nibble at her lower lip when she tried to remember something.
He wanted to kiss her.
Not good.
She’d called him a coward and accused him of being like Mom, when all he was trying to do was protect Catherine from herself.
She’d fallen for J.D., a dangerous mistake. It would ruin any chance of a successful senior year for her. Couldn’t she see that? That he was looking out for her?
He stopped spying out his bedroom window at her house, stopped sitting up front in class to be near her. She had a new note taker.
He wondered how that was working out.
“Don’t wonder,” he muttered, heading into his house.
Sometimes he thought he could feel her eyes on him from across the street. It made him wish for something that could never be.
“You want a piece of me!” Dad screamed.
What the hell was
he
doing home?
J.D. rushed into the kitchen. Billy was pointing a knife at the old man.
“Hey, put the knife down,” J.D. said.
“Yeah, ya’ little pussy, put it down.” Dad took a step toward Billy. “Unless you plan to cut my heart out with it.”
J.D. stepped between them. “Dad, enough.”
“Enough? I’ll tell you when it’s enough.”
“Billy, get out of here,” J.D. ordered.
Billy didn’t move. “He shouldn’t be hitting you.”
“Just go!”
Billy scooted out from behind J.D. and the old man lunged, grabbing Billy’s arm.
His casted arm.
J.D. shoved his father back, breaking the grip. Billy stumbled and fell on the floor.
The old man’s eyes blazed fire at J.D. “You’re going to be sorry you did that.”
J.D. readied himself for the first hit.
You’re a coward just like you’re mother.
Cat’s accusation lit a firestorm inside of him that still burned red hot.
Maybe because she was right.
Dad turned and searched the counter for a weapon, something to use against his sons.
J.D. had taken the abuse for five years, running interference for Billy. Why? Because he felt he deserved it? Felt responsible for Mom leaving?
He never reported the abuse, never stood up to the old man.
Like Catherine had stood up for him with Detective Ryan, and against psycho Greg.
That
was courage.
The old man grabbed a pot off the stove and turned to J.D. with a gleam in his eye.
“You know what they do to child abusers Hank?” J.D. threatened.
Hank swung the pot, but J.D. evaded the blow and shoved him against the wall. He grabbed Hank’s arm and twisted it behind his back.
“If you ever lay a hand on Billy again I will make sure they lock you up for the rest of your life,” J.D. said.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Why, because you’re my father?” J.D. released him and stepped back.
The old man spun around, his cheeks flaming bright red.
“You’re a bully alcoholic,” J.D. said. “I don’t respect you and I’m not taking your shit anymore.”
“You ungrateful little prick.”
“Guess what, Hank? This ungrateful prick is done being used as a punching bag.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ve got a cop on speed dial, a cop who actually believes in me, and he’s been wanting to talk to you.”
They stood there for a good ten seconds in a stare off. J.D. didn’t budge. This wasn’t a bluff. He was ready to call Detective Ryan and file charges.
He was standing up to his father.
Because of Cat, who’d shown him what courage looked like.
With a huff, Hank stormed out the back, got in the Olds and took off.
J.D. pulled Billy up off the floor.
“Were you really going to call the police?” Billy said.
“Yep.”
“But they’ll separate us.”
J.D. looked straight into Billy’s eyes. “Dude, we’re brothers. Nothing can separate us. And I’m done making decisions out of fear.”
Like pushing Cat away because deep down he was terrified of loving her.
And losing her.
“What do you think he’ll do now?” Billy said.
“I don’t know and I don’t care.”
Heartbreak sucks. Big time.
What makes it even worse is passing by my “old normal” pictures every time I go up or down the stairs in our house. As I hesitate mid way up to my room, melancholy floods my chest. If I hadn’t been walking in the street and hadn’t been hit by the car, I’d still be that perfect girl. It would be Catherine the great smiling back at me from an eight by ten print on the wall of fame. I wouldn’t be struggling in school and I would have breezed through life with little effort.
Yet I never would have learned courage like I have in the past two weeks.
I surely never would have experienced such intense feelings for a guy. I know a part of me will always be connected to J.D. Pratt.
I grab the picture of me in my Cheer outfit off the wall. It was a good life.
This new one will be good, too.
I wish J.D. was a part of it, but I’ve hurt him, deeply. He’s got major trust issues and I should have kept my mouth shut.
But my heart was breaking and I completely lost it.
I put the Cheer picture in a box and pull down a framed article about me raising the most money for Relay for Life. I’m proud of what I’ve done, but I want to replace these with new accomplishments.
“Catherine?” Mom says from the bottom of the stairs. “What are you doing?”
“Need to move on, Mom.”
“But honey, we’re so proud of you.“
“Thanks.” I glance at her. “But this isn’t me anymore.”
Dad walks up beside her, his brows knitting with concern.
“It’s okay. I’ve learned to accept my
new normal
life. I hope you can, too.”
“What can we do?” Dad asks.
I lean against the railing. “Start by forgiving J.D.”
Mom shares a worried look with Dad.
“I’ve forgiven him,” I continue. “I’ve forgiven myself. If you can’t, you’re basically saying you don’t accept me for who I am…today.”
“We don’t think he’s a good influence,” Mom says. “The whole thing at school Saturday—”
“Was about Greg wanting revenge. Don’t you get that? Greg is not a nice guy, Mom. He’s been arrested.”
“It’s hard to believe,” she hushes.
“That Pratt boy has always been trouble,” Dad says.
“He pretends to be trouble so people will keep their distance. He doesn’t want anyone to know what’s going on over there.”
“He should report the abuse to the police,” Mom says.
“Really, Mom? Did you grow up in a war zone? Somehow I don’t see Gramps hitting his kids.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
“Then you have no idea what it’s like to be abused or what J.D. feels.”
“I don’t trust him,” Dad spits out.
“You don’t know him. He’s been there for me, believed in me when my friends bailed.”
“He’s been there out of guilt,” Dad interjects.
“No, he knows what it’s like to be an outsider. He accepts me. I wish you would, too.”
They don’t know what to say to that. I fear they still don’t get it. Whatever. I’ll never stop caring about J.D., which means the pain in my chest isn’t going away any time soon.
The doorbell rings. Good timing. Mom opens the door and Clarisse steps into the front hallway.
“Mom, you remember Clarisse?” I introduce.
“Sure, of course.”
“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Clarisse says.
“Cool, thanks.”
Funny, she’s the only one from Cheer who cared enough to stop by. Sure, I got texts from Taylor and Andrea, but it’s not the same as checking on someone in person.