Where It Began (19 page)

Read Where It Began Online

Authors: Ann Redisch Stampler

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Love & Romance, #Social Issues, #Adolescence, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, #Emotions & Feelings

You would think that the possibility I was going to get to shrug off my life as a juvenile delinquent and walk away smiling and arrest record–free, that I could just hang around and obsess about Billy Nash pretty much all the time while my so-called legal problems kind of went poof, like a bunny disappearing into
Mr. Healy’s top hat, if I just got with the program, would have been cause for major celebration.

Which could have happened if I had any idea how I was supposed to pull off any of this.

 

 

gabs123:
r u there nash or is ur computer just on?

pologuy:
whatcha doing?

gabs123:
filling out forms for my lawyer. huge lawyer.

pologuy:
ag only knows famous guys

gabs123:
no, literally huge. fattest guy not in the circus.

pologuy:
at least he sounds amusing. my guy is frightening. makes people capitulate with dirty looks. u don’t do what he says, he looks at u, ur done for

gabs123:
well ur guy must b pretty amazing because how come u can drive but I can’t?

pologuy:
wtf. that sucks

gabs123:
so how come?

pologuy:
scary lawyer fixed it. changed charge to disturbing peace or some kind of bad mischief with no drinking in it

gabs123:
how????????????

pologuy:
vaporized from the record? large contribution to the mayor? don’t know. u have smashed car and the blood alcohol level of a keg

gabs123:
lawyer might be able to keep my blood alcohol level out of it. how would u know my blood alcohol lvl anyway?

pologuy:
agnes knows all sees all screws up all

gabs123:
consider the possibility that i’m the one who screwed up.

 

This was so not what I meant to say to him. And I go,
Gabriella, if you don’t want him to think you suck, maybe it would be better if you didn’t freaking tell him that you suck.

 

 

pologuy:
don’t say that. hey. miss u gabs

gabs123:
me too. castle?

pologuy:
can’t. agnes is doing her prison warden thing.

gabs123:
xx anyway. i just don’t know how i’m going to pull this off. how do i even do this so that people buy it?

 

Which turns out to be so the completely right thing to say.

 

 

pologuy:
i’m going to walk u through it. u can do this. u have to stay strong

gabs123:
as in don’t cry and b girlie?

pologuy:
as in don’t start feeling like u deserve to have something bad happen to u. or something bad will happen to u

gabs123:
that is so not what i’m doing. couldn’t this just b like the take responsibility thing everyone is so hot and bothered about?

pologuy:
no. taking responsibility is like ok i’m sorry and
i’ll never do it again. but u can’t let yourself get into that what if i killed a baby i deserve to b locked up frame of mind

gabs123:
what if i did WHAT?

pologuy:
point is, u didn’t. stay with that. u have to go hey, i’m the luckiest guy on planet earth. i’m a lucky duck in a magic pond. don’t go spitting in the magic pond ok?

gabs123:
ur scaring me.

pologuy:
listen to me g. the universe is tossing u a free pass. don’t u want a free pass? take it. it’s not like someone died

 

At which point, I completely lose it.

 

 

gabs123:
shit, i could have crashed into a freaking baby and i don’t even remember it!!!

pologuy:
but u didn’t. u need to stop thinking about it. jackman has this technique where u put a rubber band on ur wrist and every time you think bad thoughts, u snap it

gabs123:
u wore a rubber band on ur wrist? this is hard to picture.

pologuy:
didn’t need to—i don’t have bad thoughts. i take what the universe gives me. like i said i’m lucky and things work out

gabs123:
what if i’m not lucky?

pologuy:
it’s just killer bad thoughts g. u have to stop it. predators smell fear. they get one whiff of what a big bad baby-killing girl u think u r, ur screwed

 

Raising the fascinating question of what I was supposed to do with what a big bad baby-killing girl it felt like I was. How the fact I was a lucky duck in a magic pond with no smashed baby and the universe raining down Get Out of Jail Free cards on my head didn’t feel as good as it was supposed to. How I had to go convince the police and the probation office and a platoon of therapists that, even though I didn’t remember a single minute of what happened, I was pretty damned sure it was never going to happen again because I was a model girl.

 

 

pologuy:
wish i could break out of my house and come get u, do a bonnie and clyde thing, drive down to rooster shack for deep fry in the hood. get me a gf fix

 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, GF. GF GF GF GF GF!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

gabs123:
the crips down at rooster shack would no doubt rush right up to mulholland and break u out if they just knew how bad u need a chicken and gf fix.

pologuy:
that would be bloods. did u miss the red bandanas?

gabs123:
whatever.

pologuy:
just don’t mix them up when ur down at the courthouse

gabs123:
don’t even remind me. i have no idea what to even say at the courthouse. i just have a list of honchos to make appointments with. no idea what to SAY to them.

pologuy:
nobody told u what to say?

gabs123:
i think i’m just supposed to tell the truth and look sorry.

pologuy:
no!!!! ur lawyer was supposed to tell u what to say. what an elephant turd

gabs123:
I just have to convince a bunch of people that i’m perfect.

pologuy:
that should go well

gabs123:
u don’t think i’m perfect?

pologuy:
ok this is not good. shit. r u home alone?

gabs123:
yes. no. i mean, john’s here, but he NEVER comes out of the den so it’s the same thing. and the door to the laundry room would really work. think about it. you’d come in through the canyon and no one could see.

pologuy:
shit, i shouldn’t do this. ok. i’ll call when i get there and you’ll pick up the phone on the first ring but it won’t be me ok? i’ll be picking up a book from kaplan

gabs123:
what do u mean?

pologuy:
IT WON’T BE ME. the phone will ring, but it won’t be me out there ok?

gabs123:
whatever u say.

pologuy:
i don’t think u get what kind of shit i could be in

gabs123:
whatever.

XXX
 

HE CALLS ME ON HIS CELL FROM THE LANDING JUST
outside the laundry room door. There are leaves in his clothes from climbing through the canyon, his hair is flopped down over his forehead in a golden wedge. Black T-shirt and his pupils dilating black as he steps into the dark room and stands between the washing machine and the utility closet and I hold him and he holds me back.

I can feel his skin heating up, his face hot under the stubble, his mouth soft and salty as ever, our breathing matched as ever, synchronized, my head nestled on his shoulder for a minute and then tipped back and kissing him and him kissing my eyelids and my eyebrows and my nose and my cheeks and my lips.

“Okay,” he says. “We can’t do this now. I have to teach you this stuff fast and cut out.”

It’s hard to stop. “Billy,” I say, catching my breath and trying
to sound casual. “The police aren’t patrolling my laundry room. I think we’re safe.”

Billy shakes his head. “I said I was getting Andy’s Spanish book. You have no idea how screwed I am. I might have to convince my PO I was trying to leave the bad evil party but I couldn’t find my car. I might have to take a freaking acting class to pull this off.”

“Okay, I get it. Everyone is screwed. Teach me the stuff.”

So Billy sits down on the washer and I sit down on the dryer.

“Okay,” he says. “It’s not that hard. The way you’re going to get out of this is you’re going to have a drinking problem and they’re going to cure it.”

“Oh, please. Do we have to go there? My lawyer won’t shut up about my drinking problem. Can’t I have some other problem they can cure?”

“Uh,
no
. You’re naturally perfect for this because the only way people believe you have a drinking problem is if you deny it. If you wise up and figure out you have a drinking problem too soon, they think you’re scamming them. Just remember, you’re dealing with fools and deny your head off.”

“That shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. Except that I got plowed and ran your car into a tree.”

“Yeah, there’s that. Try it anyway.”

“What?”

“You know. Right now. Boo hoo!” he says in a squeaky voice I can only assume is supposed to be me. “How can you say I drink too much? Boo hoo.” He pats my leg. “Now you try it.”

“Jesus, Billy. You should start an improv troupe. Okay, here goes. Boo hoo! How can you say I drink too much?”

“Boo hoo! I never drink too much!”

“Boo hoo! I never drink at all. The car just happened to crash with my unlucky self in it.”

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