Authors: Deanna Proach
Her parents were always proud of her. They supported her in everything she did. They seldom got angry at her because she never gave them a reason to be upset. Whenever she did get into trouble at school, which didn't happen much, she pinned the blame on her friends in such a way where her parents believed her. But this is different. She couldn't lie her way out of this situation.
Carly doesn't know what’s worse: losing her parents' love and trust, or being the most hated girl in school, in town possibly. The feeling is crushing.
"I can't stay here," she says.
"You're right," Greg says.
Carly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I can move to Vancouver and start my life over."
"No. You're going to face the consequences of your actions," he says, giving her a grim look.
Carly's heart begins to race. "How?"
"We're sending you to juvenile boot camp."
Boot camp?
Carly shudders. She has heard all about boot camp. People are forced to get out of bed at three in the morning and they have to work all day, but not doing any kind of work: hard, physical labor. And they are yelled at, spat at and put down on a daily basis.
"I don't want to go to boot camp. It'll be complete hell."
"Well, you can't stay here. Carly, you're not a child anymore. You're a young adult. Even if you were a child, you would still have to pay the price for what you did.”
"We don't know where we went wrong. Your mother and I never taught you that cruelty was acceptable."
Angela sniffs. "Your brother and sister were always good. They never hurt anyone. And we thought you were the same way. Either we were wrong, or you lied to us all along. You're a disgrace."
"No, she's not a disgrace. She just got caught up with the wrong crowd. Isn’t that right, Carly?"
"Yes. All of my friends do stuff that gets them in trouble. At school anyway," she says, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.
Angela grunts.
"Well, that's going to change. Now. Carly, I want you to know that we're not sending you to boot camp because we want to get rid of you. We're doing this for your own good. We want you to get yourself back on track and we want you to be a good person, well liked for all the right reasons. We believe in you. You can succeed in anything that you put your mind to. You can do great things. But you're putting all of your energy in the wrong place, and your mother and I can't handle it."
"Well then, maybe I'm better off at boot camp," Carly says, rising out of her seat.
As shitty as it'll be, it'll still be better than staying here where everyone hates my guts
, she wants to say. But she bites her lower lip.
****
The hospital is close to Max's Music store where Patrick works, so once his shift ends, he walks over there. He is still sad, on the verge of tears. He has felt this way ever since he found out about what Carly, Shondra and Kirsten did to Anya.
Patrick is relieved to know that Principle Mansfield has decided to expel the three girls, but nothing can ease the amount of guilt he's feeling. He can't stop thinking about Anya and how he hurt her with his anger. He wishes that he could take it all back. If he could turn back the hands of time, he would, and he would have embraced Anya's plea for forgiveness. But he can't and that is what hurts the most. She may have wounded him, but his love for her is stronger than rejection. He misses her smile, her laughter, her long hair, her talent and her companionship.
Patrick's heart starts to race the moment he steps through the hospital's entrance doors. He can't wait to see Anya, but is afraid that he might burst into tears the moment he sees her, or worse, told to leave.
"I'm here to see Anya Preschnikov," he says to the nurse's aide at the reception desk. For a moment, he studies her. She is young, not much older than him. Although she's not ugly, she is not pretty either. Her face is a mass of freckles and her hair is flaming red, curly and thick.
She flashes him a smile, showing off a set of white teeth. "Now, what's your name?"
"Patrick."
"Lucky Anya. Are you her boyfriend?"
I wish.
"Uh…I'm a really good friend of hers."
"She is in room two-twenty-one, on the second floor."
"Thanks."
As he enters the hallway, he sees Maria emerge from the elevator. Patrick half expects her to greet him cordially, but she frowns at him.
"What are you doing here?"
Patrick purses his lips. "I've come to see Anya."
"No, you're not."
He narrows his eyes. "Why not? Give me one good reason not to, Maria."
She gives him an icy look. "Because she's sleeping, and she never said that she wanted to see you."
His nostrils flare. "What the heck do you know? You've only known Anya for a week. I've known her for five years!"
Her look is unflinching. "I've been here a lot and she hasn't talked about you. Never asked for you, never told me to contact you. Not once did your name escape from her lips. She doesn't care about you, so move on, Patrick."
He glowers at her. "I don't believe you, Maria. I don't believe a single word you say, especially after all the crap you pulled. None of this would have happened if you'd have left her alone. And you know it."
She thrusts her face close to his, but he does not back away.
"Listen, Patrick. I confronted Carly in the cafeteria in front of a lot of people, so don't you dare throw dirt in my face when you don't even know the full story!"
He gasps. "So that's how they found out. In the hallway, a lot of people yelled and whispered insults at Carly. And at Shondra and Kirsten. I asked someone what was going on, and that's how I found out. But that person didn't tell me that you confronted her."
She backs away slowly. "So, what happened next?"
"I told Principle Mansfield everything, and he took my word for it. He said that he was going to expel those girls. And he did."
The look on her face softens. "Good for you, Patrick. Did you hear him call them to the office?
"No, I left. I was so upset, I couldn't handle being there anymore."
Maria cocks one eyebrow. "So, you've also decided to quit school?"
Patrick's eyebrows snap up. "No. Of course not. I hate it there, but I'm not gonna let them ruin my future. Why do you ask? Did you quite school?"
"Yes. And, FYI self-righteous one, a high school diploma won't pave the way to success."
Patrick shoves his face close to hers. "Who do you think you are to call me self-righteous? You'll regret that comment when you're still living from pay check to pay check ten years from now."
She shoots him a furious look. "And do you really think that you're Mr. Hawthorne's chosen actor? Even if he does give you the sponsorship, that doesn't mean you're going to hit the big time. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of people who are extremely talented actors. And there are probably even more who are way better looking than you. It's time to face the facts, Patrick. You're a small fish swimming in a pond full of sharks."
"Forget it," he yells. "I'm not gonna waste my precious time talking to a stupid girl who knows nothing. I'll come back later when you're not around." He spins on his heels, then marches through the foyer. But as soon as he steps outside, his anger vanishes and the sadness returns. It is so strong that it overwhelms him. Tears gush from his eyes, but this time, he doesn't care who sees him. He did not get a chance to see Anya, and it's all because of Maria. To make matters worse, she cut him down a size. No, two sizes. She has left him feeling insignificant, degraded and worthless.
His vision is so blurry that he can barely see ahead, yet he keeps on walking.
I can't understand how Anya can be friends with a person like that. Maria is no better than Carly. How could you, Anya?
Anya stands in the front yard of her home. It is a cold and drizzly Thursday afternoon in the middle of March. She had been released from the hospital over two weeks ago, but her neck is still enclosed in the brace. Although, it doesn't hurt quite as much when she moves it.
Anya has been taking the homeopathic medicine that Marissa gave her. Marissa is right about the Arnica and the Traumeel: her neck is healing quite fast. Anya has also begun her frequent sessions at the massage therapist. She must admit, she enjoys every session and always looks forward to the next one. The feel of Mrs. Schuler's hands caressing her sore neck and back makes her forget about the pain for the time being. She also finds Mrs. Schuler to be a kind and bubbly person. She always greets Anya with a smile and she never seems to run out of things to say. In the short time Anya has known Mrs. Schuler, she has grown quite fond of her.
When Anya is not at Mrs. Schuler's clinic, she is with Maria, Marissa and Alex.
The day after she left the hospital, they all drove to Vernon and spent the afternoon snowmobiling at Silver Star Mountain. Later that night, they went to a night club and partied it up until three in the morning. No one kicked Anya and Maria out because Alex and Marissa made sure they had fake IDs.
Last weekend, Marissa invited a few of her friends over to the apartment. They drank a lot and were quite obnoxious at times, but despite all that, Anya enjoyed their company. She wished, though, that Alex had been with them. She would have liked to have met his friends, but he had to some important business to attend to.
Since that party, she has seen less of him. He has been quite busy with business according to Marissa. Alex’s business mystifies Anya. Whenever she does see him, Anya asks him about it, but Alex always redirects the conversation to another topic. So, Anya swallows her curiosity. Besides, Alex has been very gracious and accommodating. Why rock the boat?
Anya finally belongs somewhere in this world: she has a core group of friends and she loves living with them because they always have fun when they are together. More importantly, they have made her forget about the past. But the moment Anya sets foot on her front yard, those emotions disappear, leaving her as empty and distressed as she was two weeks earlier. Memories of that Sunday morning's events fill her mind. She wonders how Sophia is doing? Have her bruises healed? How will she act when she sees Anya? Is she even still living here? These questions make Anya's stomach churn with anxiety, yet she forces herself to walk down the narrow, broken, concrete walkway. She knocks on the door lightly. Her body is so tense that the back of her neck begins to hurt.
No one opens the door, so after a few seconds of standing in the freezing cold, she attempts to open it. Much to her surprise, it is unlocked. The living room is even messier than it was when she left. Empty beer bottles, bags of chips, plastic dinner trays, candy bar wrappers and dirty clothes lay strewn all over the floor and on the couch. A foul smell emanates from the waste and hangs in the air around her. She wrinkles her face.
God, how can Dad and Sophia stand to live in this filth?
"Anya?"
For the first time in weeks, she is face to face with her father. She can’t remember seeing him looking so ill. His face is white, his eyes sunken, and his body so frail it looks limp beneath the jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing. His brown hair looks more like slick strands of straw.
"What happened to you, Anya?"
She locks her eyes on his face.
I’d like to know the same thing about you.
"Uh…nothing."
Inside those hollow eyes shines a glimmer of worry. "Something obviously happened to you. Why is your neck in a brace?"
The expression on Anya's face hardens. "Didn't Sophia tell you?"
The rotten little brat!
"Tell me what?" he says, looking completely dumbfounded.
Anya clenches her fists.
Damn you, Sophia!
"That one of my classmates hurt me," she says once her anger subsides a little.
For a brief moment, her father looks like he’s about to cry. Anya can almost see the tears in his eyes through her own tears.
"Sophia didn't come back home after school. She's living with her best friend. She told me in a message on the answering machine late one evening."
Anya can feel a piece of her heart break.
Best friend? I never knew Sophia had a best friend. I never knew she had any friends. How could she love an outsider and not her own sister? I don't get it.