Authors: Mechelle Morrison
KyleKDTlovesyou
4:27 PM (5 minutes ago)
To me
Aspen
,
My sessions here are going fine.
They’ll carry on for two months more, on Skype. All we’re doing now is going over ways to ‘stand my ground’ but I swear, I’ve got it. I was just blocked, you know? Evan’s death messed me up. I held too much inside. I let things get crazy. But I’ve talked it out and I’ll keep talking, whenever I need to. I don’t like hearing about your run-in with Em. I feel like everything happening to you is my fault. You’re more important than what I’m doing here. I want to come home. I’m gonna talk to my mom about it.
K
Aspen Brand
AspenBlovesyouback
To
KyleKDTlovesyou
Hey Kyle,
Stay in Salt Lake and do what you need to do for yourself.
That’s my say, anyway. I’m sure your doctor has stuff he wants to cover, I mean, your mom scheduled an entire week of appointments for you and that doesn’t come cheap or easy. Don’t worry about me too much. When you come home, I’ll be here.
Things with Em didn’t turn out as bad as they could have, right? She didn’t punch me or anything, and she was sent to the principal’s office so maybe that will mellow her. Maybe it’s my lucky day and she’ll get suspended. She’s angry and insecure and probably bi-polar and sociopathic, but no way am I alone in knowing that. The powers that be will deal with her. Missing you. -- A
KyleKDTlovesyou
5:01 PM (0 minutes ago)
To me
Aspen
,
I hope you’re right, I mean about the powers that be. I already know you’re right about the psycho stuff. I guess what I’m saying is that Em is predictable in an unpredictable sort of way. She’s always mean,
underneath, but she can blindside you with it. It can seem like everything is fine and then, wham. Goes without saying that I’d feel better if you stayed out of school until I’m back on Monday.
K
Aspen Brand
AspenBlovesyouback
To
KyleKDTlovesyou
Hey Kyle,
I’ve got stuff due
tomorrow. I’m going to go to school. And anyway, if I’m not there Em will see it as an invitation to pick on me even more the next time I show up.
Your dad is downstairs and I can hear my dad telling him about my day. Your dad is really angry at Em. He’s saying he wants to get the cops involved and get her hauled off to juvenile. He’s saying that he hopes Em is eighteen so she’ll be tried and put away as an adult.
Now my dad’s saying that it probably won’t be that simple, that unless someone comes forward to act as a witness in her crimes against you it falls into the category of circumstantial. Your dad’s saying no way, that your scars are proof enough, not to mention that she’s going around confronting me in the hall. My dad’s saying yeah, but a solid case requires that Em be caught in an act of violence against another person.
You’re dad’s saying he can arrange that.
A
KyleKDTlovesyou
5:32 PM
(0 minutes ago)
To me
Aspen
,
Our dads watch too
many crime shows. At least mine does. But my two cents is your dad is right, that Em needs to be caught in the act of hurting someone and that’s not a good thing to think about. I don’t want the someone to be me, and I definitely don’t want the someone to be you.
I’ll stay here, for now, but only ‘cause you want me to. I’ll ask Dylan about Em in my session tomorrow. I’m sure he’s heard it all when it comes to the law and bullies. But whatever he says, it seems like there’s not much we can do. Em needs to get on with her life, for sure, but I worry. If she knows we’re together she’ll do her best to tear us both to shreds. You stay clear of her. Promise me. My fantasy world involves a life with you.
I swear, girl. I’m sorry for the mess with Em. I didn’t know I’d be dragging you into it the way I have.
K
Aspen Brand
AspenBlovesyouback
To
KyleKDTlovesyou
Hey Kyle,
I’m with you because I want to be with you, so you didn’t drag me into anything. Even before we got together Em was singling me out, so I think whatever happens with her was destined to happen, no matter
how it comes into being.
We started a journaling assignment in English this week. We’re supposed to write about something secret, something we’ve never told anyone. I decided to chronicle Em’s rotten treatment of me, every sordid detail. But it’s weird to write about being bullied, you know? Until I moved to Gillette, I’d never experienced it.
BTW: A life with you is my fantasy world A
KyleKDTlovesyou
5:52 PM (0 minutes ago)
To me
Aspen
,
I hope Em doesn’t wreck you
r opinion of Gillette. It’s a nice place with nice people. She’s the occasional rut. Not the norm. That she happens to be our age and all is just an unlucky draw. I still think you should skip school until I’m back, and I’m asking you again to do it, but I’m seeing you’ve got a stubborn streak. The idea of that is hot. It’ll bear a bit of exploration.
My mom says we’re heading out to dinner so I’ll sign off until later tonight. The more I’m away from you, the more I crave you girl. You’d think all the pain talk I’m doing would douse that a bit, but just the opposite. My feelings for you shine above it all. I’m itching to hold you again, and kiss you, and put our bodies together in ways that feel too good to control.
K
Aspen Brand
AspenBlovesyouback
To
KyleKDTlovesyou
!!! Is it Monday yet?
17
Journal Entry Three
| Aspen Brand | AP English
M
y mom loved Devil’s Tower, mostly because she loved the movie Close Encounters. We never went there when she was alive, but when I moved here I Googled the tower, just to see where to find it in case I get the chance to visit soon. Did you know that from a satellite you don’t really see the tower? You see its shadow. The shadow is dark and so exact it’s like the tower has an alter ego, or maybe an evil twin.
On Wednesday
of this week, right before lunch, I ran into Em Harrelson in the hall. She got in my face and started quizzing me about Kyle. Just like the other time I ran into her, she wasn’t able to talk without shoving. Unlike that time, when she dubbed me ‘Retro’ and informed me Kyle is her eye-candy, this was different. She still called me ‘Retro’. And yeah, I was up against a wall, like before. But this time I spoke up for myself. I told her to leave me alone. It surprised her, at first. Then her apparent long-standing habit of being obnoxious kicked in. She made a fist, like she was going to punch me. She told me she hated me. She mouthed ‘you’re dead’.
I told my dad about what happened,
but I didn’t repeat what Em had said. I kept her hatred to myself. For one thing, it kind of freaked me out, and things that freak me need to stew in my head for a while before I find the words to talk about them. But as I thought it over I figured she was just blowing steam and trying to scare me, so I let it drop. I don’t want Dad or Kyle (I told him about my run-in, too) fretting over nothing. And anyway, a teacher intervened so here I am, alive and well and capable of fending Em off another day.
I think b
eing bullied is like living in a shadow, one as thick and impenetrable as the tower’s silhouette. That’s as close as I can come to describing it. I’m the same person as I was in Oregon, and I’m not. But it’s not just the less-than-friendly feedback I get from a certain group of peers that makes me feel different. That would be giving Em credit where it isn’t due. I started feeling different the moment my mom died.
I can’t change a thing about the fact
Mom’s never coming back. It took a while to accept that. I didn’t want to believe I was powerless, that there was nothing I could do.
But
I’m not powerless with Em. I can change what’s happening with her, and that makes me want to fight to make the change real. I don’t exactly know how to do it. I’m not a bully. I’d never win, fighting fire with fire. But Em hurt Kyle. She tortured him. Now she’s threatening me. She doesn’t know how aware I am of what I’ve lost. And I swear. I am never going to lose so much again.
When the final bell of the day rings I spring from my seat like I’ve been launched. One short weekend and Kyle will be here, home and well and happy to see me. All week long I’ve practiced his songs so we can play guitar together. I’ve been sweet-talking Dad so we can stay out late. I’m so ready to be with Kyle in the Jam, singing and kissing and exploring and laughing. I miss him so much I feel almost crazy. Weird, but now that the wait’s almost over, it’s unbearable.
As I blitz
from biology Mr. Goldberg asks me if I’ve got a minute. Inside I’m screaming
No I don’t
, but I stop and shift from one foot to the other as he walks between the lab tables to where I stand waiting, near the door. I glance at the clock. Three-fifteen and forty seconds.
Make that forty-five.
“I’ve noticed biology comes easy for you,” Mr. Goldberg says.
I shrug. “It just makes sense, I guess.”
Mr. Goldberg smiles and my gaze drifts to the slight space between his front teeth. “I need someone to tutor girls in the sophomore class,” he says. “I thought you might have the time? It would be two afternoons a week—Mondays and Wednesdays—for an hour. Think of it as an opportunity for your college resume.”
I look at the clock, again. Three seventeen.
It’s cool, how Mr. Goldberg thought of me and anyway, I don’t have a real reason to hurry. I mean, hurrying home won’t make Monday come any faster. “I’d like to, but I’ll have to clear it with my dad,” I say. “We only have one car. He takes off work to fetch me.”
“
Oh.” Mr. Goldberg’s eyes assume a pleading look and I think of mice, right before I put them in the maze. He says, “I’ll speak with your father, if you’d like. I’d tell him you’re quite good at explaining concepts. I’d convey you’d provide a fine role-model for the younger girls. I try to get them to attend office hours, but, well. I’m not the draw you’d be. I hear them; they admire your clothes. I think they’d enjoy getting to know you. Some of them are near failing and I hate to see them fail. I don’t know if you’re aware, but in the sciences, class ratio is far from equal.”
I glance at the clock.
Three twenty-two. Dad is usually late. “So, who needs tutoring? All the girls I know seem to understand just fine.”
“
I have a list!” Mr. Goldberg hurries to his desk. He sifts through a few papers, finds a pale yellow sheet and studies it as he wanders back to me. “Do you know Anita Tarver? Kathryn Connoly? There are twelve total, mostly tenth graders, but a few juniors. You could set a schedule, meet with some individually, others in small groups. Maybe start a club! They’d worship you, I’m sure.”
I blush hearing that, but
as I browse the student list Mr. Goldberg and I start talking science like we’re two old professors comparing horror stories. He’s just launched into a funny bit about dissecting frogs when my phone vibrates in my bag. I dig it out—yell, “I’m coming!” into the receiver—and shrug. “Sorry, Mr. Goldberg. My dad is having a melt-down. But we’ll talk, okay? On Monday?” I sprint into the hall. The soft click of the biology classroom door echoes as it shuts behind me.
It figures that t
he science rooms are as far away from my locker as they can be and still be considered part of Tower County. And the biology lab is the worst; an afterthought grafted onto a dead-end stub of space. I run the length of the little hall connecting it to the rest of the building then pull a sharp right, nearly crashing into a group of people talking by a water fountain. One of them is Em’s friend, Evvie. Our eyes meet for a second. I stutter, “Sorry.” I say, “Excuse me.” Then I hurry on.
Evvie
follows me.
Up a
head, a girl steps into the hall.
Lindsey!
I move opposite her. I don’t want to get into the pin thing just now. Glancing over my shoulder I see Evvie’s still there. She’s probably Lindsey’s ‘strength in numbers,’ like together they can talk me into giving Lindsey her aunt’s pin. My ankle still aches from being sprained, and though running has made the pain sharper, I push myself to move. I’m passing Lindsey—our eyes locked and glaring—when Em steps out from a doorway.
“
Hey, Retro,” she says. I instinctively side-step; Em mirrors me, and I’m forced to stop. “Are we gonna dance?” She twists at a shank of her hay-colored hair.
Evvie
’s close now, a little to my left. Lindsey’s at Em’s elbow. Three other girls, who I’ve seen but don’t know, walk out of a bathroom and crowd around us. My heart cramps in my chest.
“Let’s see,” Em says. “
What are today’s left-overs? I’m thinking those are Martha Bell’s old jeans, if I’m not mistaken.”
T
he girls laugh.
“You just make it up
.” My voice sounds casual, like I’m playing along. But my armpits are cold with sweat.
“
Do I?” Em touches the hem of my sweater. I jerk free of her. “Jumpy little thing,” she says. “I’ve seen this. You, Evvie? Isn’t this your aunt Sarah’s classic pattern? A sort of upside down shell? The color’s nice though. Sky blue. Like Kyle’s eyes.”
“Get out of my way,” I say. “My dad’s waiting.”
Em makes a sour smile. “Well before we send you out to Daddy we need to get a few things from you. You mind? I’d swear your hair band belongs to Cammi Boren and the rest of it, well. I’ve already mentioned the owners there.”
I roll my eyes. There’s a slim-chance
of space, a sliver of freedom, between Em and Lindsey. I look at Em, like I’m about to say something, then dart toward the narrow opening. Lindsey pushes me back, ripping my bag from my shoulder and tossing it aside. Someone trips me. I go down hard, landing on my butt.
T
wo girls grab me by the wrists. They stretch my arms above my head, tugging so hard my shoulder joints pop. I squirm and kick and manage one scream before someone crams something scratchy into my mouth. My head snaps back, hitting the floor. I blink at the pain as girls take hold of my legs, pulling off my boots and throwing them down the hall. Then they take my pants by the hem and yank my body tight. Fear shivers through me. It’s like they’re going to tear me apart.
“Nice belt,”
Em says, unlatching the clasp. She tugs and my belt whips from around my waist. My jeans slide toward my hips. I panic, trying to twist free. Em puts her boot on my stomach and presses me to the floor. She winds my belt, around and around, shoves it into her pocket, then goes at my pants, unbuttoning them and working the zipper open. “These come off first,” she says. The girls tug. My jeans slip from my hips, taking my underwear down a bit with them. My legs rest naked on the cold linoleum floor.
I go crazy, thrashing and
gurgling muffled sound, scared to my core. I’m kicking so much that no one can grab my legs, so a girl with dark hair drops across my knees, sitting on them. Evvie takes the hem of my sweater and tugs it up until the sweater covers my head. Whatever they shoved into my mouth catches in the motion and disappears. I scream, just as the cold floor meets the warmth of my back.
After that,
I can’t help it. I start to cry.
They
laugh while they pull my sweater off, leaving the neck and sleeves bunched around my elbows. Someone says, “You think those are her panties?”
and
Em says,
“Take ‘em down” and I freak out, digging my fingernails into the wrists of whoever has me.
“Damn
it! She’s clawing me!”
Em
takes a few steps back. “You want to fight dirty, Retro? We can play that way.” She runs toward me and kicks, driving the sharp toe of her boot into my side.
For a second I’m blind
, seeing only stars. Em runs at me again, grinding her heel into my flesh. I make a horrible sound, something purely animal, a noise I didn’t even think a person could make.
Evvie
yells, “What the hell?” My right hand drops to the floor. It’s tingling and numb, like my blood’s forgotten how to flow. My shoulder aches. Evvie steps between me and Em. She plants her fists on her hips.
“
It’s her fault Kyle bailed on me!” Em says. Her cheeks gleam with moisture. Her hair seems messy, her face distorted and puffy and red. She sobs as she tries to shove Evvie aside.
But
Evvie shoves back. “You don’t know that,” she says. “You don’t know what Kyle’s up to these days. And even if it’s true, I’m not gonna kill someone.”
“You said you’d help
!” Em flaps her arms. “You all did. What’d you think, we were gonna corner her and chat? She needs a lesson.” Em pushes Evvie, again, and this time Evvie stumbles backwards, her heels sharp as she trips against my side then falls on top of me. Pain shoots everywhere, down my legs and across my chest. My head spins. I almost vomit. Beneath my back, the floor grows warm and sticky.
“
Let her go Linds!” Evvie crawls off me and stands up. “You guys too.”
S
uddenly I’m free and ignored, lying almost naked on the linoleum. My arms are tangled in my sweater and my legs are numb. I can’t seem to focus. I don’t know what to do.
All around me girls
argue and fight, stepping over and on me, pushing each other, yelling. Em tries to come at me again and Evvie sort of tackles her. Someone stumbles over my sore ankle. My eyes roll back and I almost pass out. I shift onto my stomach, but as I do my side seems to explode, the pain so intense I can’t think.
I’m
sure I’m having a heart attack when I realize it’s the floor. I feel, then hear, footsteps. They’re growing louder. Maybe I’m about to be trampled.
It’s torture to crawl away
. A bloody smear marks my path to where I rest, huddled against a brick wall. I want to clean up the blood. I’m shocked to see it there. But I’m shaking, and terribly cold. I don’t know where my pants are. One of my boots is close by. The other one could be anywhere. I’ve still got my sweater, but for some reason I can’t free it from around my elbows.
The worst part is
I can’t catch my breath. I can’t get air in or out. The place behind my eyes sparks with light. The edges of my vision tint, like pages in an ancient book. My lungs ache for air.
I want my mother.
Instead of Mom, men appear. Teachers, maybe. They pull the fighting, crying girls away from each other. The men shout so loud it fills my head with razor blades.