Claire's Song (21 page)

            Ryder clears his throat and just pulls me in so we're actually hugging, his head on top of mine. The song slowly fades and is replaced by thumping bass. But the moment is still living on in my heart, my soul.

            "You ruin me," Ryder mumbles in my ear. My heart does a stupid flip and just as I'm about to say something, something utterly stupid,
that
voice screeches nearby.

            "Who let the losers in?" Lindy yells as she teeters on her hooker heels. She's dressed in the trashiest nurse costume I've ever laid eyes on. I mean, she should've just come naked. But I am thankful for the little scraps of clothing that she did choose to put on. Looking at her face I start to feel the anger make its way to the surface, everything she's done to Ryder and me piling up. Ryder steps in front to me, blocking me from her view, but I manage to get to his side. He looks at me questionably, especially when Darren appears right beside Lindy, wearing a lame doctor's getup. This is my moment. I feel courage slowly beginning to build in my chest and I know what I have to do.

            "Let me do this," I say to Ryder, hoping he'll understand that I need this. Dr. Robinson told me that I'm not healing; that I haven’t healed from anything, from Jamie's death, from the bullying, from anything and this is where I begin.

            "Who let the strippers out of the strip club?" I spit back, pent up venom in each barb. Lindy's eyes grow wide. She's barely heard my voice in a full year of torment. Only recently have I started speaking up and now I'm over it all. I'm going to let her know what I think. I'm done being someone that she steps all over.

            Recovering from temporary shock, Lindy manages a false giggle, "Oh, please. Now, let me say this so you can understand it, since it's obvious you're not all there." She points to her head and twirls her fingers, signaling that I'm crazy. Anger slowly begins to replace the courage, but I stay focused. I've got to stand up to her. If not now, then when? If not me, then who? She smirks and then begins to speak again, "Losers. Are. Not. Welcome. So you need to go and take this freak show with you." She points to Ryder who's standing by my side, fists clenched, jaw muscle popping. It would be pretty sexy if it weren't for the situation we're in.

            "You know what I think?" I step forward, closer to her, an arms length away. Ryder steps up, but I shake my head. Darren is just standing there, grinning like a complete idiot, arms crossed over his chest.

            Lindy looks at me, her blonde hair in a high ponytail and swishing as she cocks her head to the side like a bird.

            "I think you're jealous. You're pissed off because Jamie didn't want you. You're pissed off because Ryder doesn't want you. I think that's why you do what you do."

            By now we've gained a few spectators. The adults are all outside in the parking lot. They have no idea that it's about to go down.

            Lindy curls her lip in a sneer and edges closer to me, "So you're saying that I'm jealous of a Black Widow? I give it two months before Ryder kills himself too." Her voice purrs, not missing a beat.

            "Are you mad because I've figured you out? Figured out why you enjoy making others feel like crap, why you do what you do?" I ignore her jab and keep on going. "You want to have everything and when you can't get it, you make it seem as though nobody should want it in the first place. I know Jamie told you not to mess with me. I think you thought that by not messing with me you might get him after all. I know Ryder's told you the same thing, but yet here you are. Leave me alone or I'll slap you with a restraining order."

            "You're not very smart, you know that? Look at you with your ugly costume. What are you supposed to be anyway? A mangy cat?" Darren finally speaks. Lindy gives him a look of approval and that's the last thing I see before everything turns chaotic.

            Ryder's on Darren and is beating the crap out of him. His fists are flying faster than I've ever seen and Darren’s a pretty big guy. Once again, Lindy lets others do her dirty work and disappears into the madness. I'm so caught up in the fight that I can't go after her. The boys crash onto the floor, and I keep screaming for them to stop, along with a few other girls. No adults come rushing in and I know what'll happen if I get in the middle of it. So I do the next logical thing.

            "Cops!" I yell. I know there's underage drinking going on although I’m not quite sure where they stashed the alcohol and I know the adult supervision is thin, almost non-existent. It's perfect because Darren being the total pansy that he is leaps up and joins everyone else as they take off. The DJ is completely clueless and continues to play music. Ryder gets up off the floor holding his head. Darren looked worse, so I find a little relief in that. I rush to him amongst the throng of kids trying to get out.

            "I told you to let me handle it," I scold as I put an arm around him. He appears to be walking fine, so we make a go for it, along with everybody else.

            "I can't let him speak to you like that, Claire. That can't happen." Ryder slides into the passenger seat and I drive us out through the winding roads at terribly unsafe speeds. I just want to get home. I knew better than to do this. I try to deal, to fight back, and instead, someone else gets hurt. Am I really bad luck like everyone says? Like Lindy says?

            "Should we get you to a hospital?" I quickly look over at Ryder, trying not to freak out that it's nighttime and I'm driving. Ryder's more important than this crazy fear. I focus on my breathing, focus on Breaking Benjamin from earlier, that kiss, on Ryder. On everything else.

            "Nah, it's nothing big. He got one good smack in, that's all." I see Ryder wipe blood from his mouth and my stomach turns. That blood is because of me.

            "Ryder, you keep getting hurt because of me…" My voice trails. I don't know what I'm going to say. I'm not giving him up, because I'm selfish and I just got him.

            Ryder's hand curls around mine on the steering wheel. "You're not getting rid of me just yet." I hear slight humor in his voice, but underlying that is infinite sadness and I want to ask him about it. I want to be that needy girlfriend or whatever I am, but I don't.

            "So you're okay?" I ask again, just to be sure. My eyes are struggling to focus on the road, but I squint and somehow manage it. I don't look back at Ryder again. My fear is bubbling up in my chest and I want, no I need to conquer at least one crappy thing in my life.

            "I'm fine." There's a pause. "Look, Claire, I'm really proud of what you did tonight. What you said to Lindy was epic. You actually stood up for yourself and I think you just earned the respect of half the student body in that one move."

            Pride swells up in my chest overshadowing the fear, the worry. It did feel good to say that to her, to not just stand there like a freaking punching bag.

            "Thanks," I barely whisper.

             I feel my cheeks heat up at Ryder's unexpected praise. He rubs his hand up and down my arm as I drive and somehow I manage to get us home. As I pull in the driveway and shut the car off, something happens to me. I feel…elated. I feel like I conquered Mount Everest. I look to Ryder and see this huge smile across his handsome, bloodied face. His lip looks like it might be busted, but it's really hard to tell in the darkness.

            "What?" I ask, taking the keys out of the ignition, although I can't quit smiling.

            "Claire, look at you. You did it. I knew you could. You drove at night and didn't flip out," Ryder's smiling and then he reaches over and pushes my hair behind my ears.

            "You knew it? You remembered as soon I got in the driver's seat? Because I certainly didn't. All I could think of was getting out of there and making sure you were okay," I answer. I'm leaning over the console, closer to him, the car seeming to shrink even more with his presence.

            He nods, "Yeah, but I knew you could get over it. And you did. You totally did it."

            "That's one thing down," I whisper.

            "From what?" He watches me carefully, those eyes never leaving mine.

            "Nothing. Just one thing I've conquered on my crazy list. You know, like conquer your bullies, conquer your night driving, conquer your fear of abandonment, and conquer your grief. All these things that I just sit by and do nothing about. I don't even think I grieved Jamie properly. I just…I just went into a black hole and did practically nothing. All I did was get this tattoo," I hold up my wrist. Jamie's initials shine in the sparse moonlight.

            Ryder takes it in his hands, "This tattoo means more than you think. You overcame your fear of needles by doing that."

            I look at him, confused, "I don't have a fear of needles."

            He shrugs and lets go of my wrist, "It was worth a try."

            A small laugh bubbles up and I see what he's doing. "Ryder, thank you. This was a great first date," I smile.

            He looks out the window and then back at me, his hand rubbing his chin, "All in all, yeah, it wasn't bad."

            I lean forward and press a kiss to his swollen lip. "Now this is the perfect ending to the perfect night," I smile against his lips. His arms come around me, wrapping me closer to him, and it's obvious he could care less about his injuries with the way he's kissing me. It is a good night indeed.

RYDER

            My caseworker managed to get an afternoon court time arranged. Mrs. Weathersby complained that Claire and I had missed a lot of school lately and she wanted to see us graduate. She made sure we only missed about thirty minutes of the last class of the day. Claire's parents are meeting us at the courthouse and it makes me feel like I'm a part of a real family. This is what it's supposed to be like.

            Despite the fact that this weekend was the best weekend of my entire life, I still feel like I'm coming out of my skin. This morning I cut myself and it did little to relieve the anxiety. I don’t care anymore about Shelly going to jail. Having to face her again is what's stressing me out.

            Claire's got music blasting and that does help a little bit. Listening to Muse helps everything. When she pulls her car into a space, she turns to me and grabs my hand. She squeezes it tight and all she says is "I'm here" before getting out of the car. She's the best thing that's ever happened in my crappy life, but I know it's only temporary. Might as well as enjoy it while I can.

            I get out of the car and take her hand as we mount the courthouse steps. Our hands separate before we go inside. Good thing too, because her parents are already waiting in the lobby.

            "Ah, Ryder! Claire!" Her mother says as she rushes to us and pulls us both into a group hug. Her parents still have no idea that we're seeing each other, although I feel like it has to be pretty obvious. I know I look at Claire like she hangs the frickin' moon.

            "Mom, chill," Claire whispers and shoots a look at her dad. He only grins. He was supposed to go out of town today, but he pushed it back to be here. In my book, that's pretty cool, so I shake his hand and give him the best "I'm good for you daughter" look I can muster. I don't even know what that looks like.

             We are led to the courtroom and I sit behind the district attorney. I listen to the judge rattle off all kinds of legal stuff, but I can't even focus on it with my nerves all over the place. I feel Claire squeeze my hand again, her hope sinking in through that simple touch. But everything is ruined when my mom is brought in. She's in an ugly orange jumpsuit and she looks awful. Her hair is wiry and thin, her face is practically skeletal, and she has more wrinkles on her face than I remember. Her eyes search behind her and I know who she's looking for. I see it as her hateful gaze lands on me. Claire is steady mean mugging this woman and if looks could kill, Claire would be on trial for killing my mom.

            I get called to the witness stand and I feel like everything is moving sideways. Dizziness settles in until I look at Claire's face. Perfect, wonderful Claire. She's giving me a smile and she winks as I get up and walk to the stand. I can do this. I will do this. I have to do this, for me and for Claire.

            The prosecutor steps up and starts asking me all these questions about my mom, about her drug use, the abuse, and my dad. I answer each of the questions honestly, telling the court just how bad my mother's addiction is, how she used to attack me out of paranoia and even when she was sober, how she let her boyfriend of the month beat the crap out of me. I told them about the multiple times she pawned my guitar, how often we went without food because all the money went to drugs. I did all of this without even making eye contact with her.

            "Look at me, you lying piece of trash! I wish your father would have taken you with him when he left! You’re both worthless!" My mother suddenly screams out in the middle of my testimony.

            I want to bow and say, "Ladies and gentleman, my mother." But I don't. Instead, I do as she says, not because she wants me too, but because
I
want too. I look at her and reply, "I do too. Believe me, I do too." This only pisses her off more because she starts talking to herself and I wonder if it’s a side effect of withdrawal from the drugs. The judge calls order to the court and the questioning continues. I can't bring myself to look at Claire. I don't want to. I hate that she's seeing this, that she's hearing this. She shouldn't have to do this. She has enough to worry about, enough to deal with.

            But when it's all said and done, my mom only has to stay in jail for year. A freaking year. This woman made my life a living hell for four years and this is what she gets. Each slice of glass into my skin, each kick to the ribs, each random person I’ve had to live with, she gets a year for all of it. I'm sick and I can't look at anyone. Shelly calls my name as they lead her out of the courtroom, but I don’t look. Claire's parents try to console me, but even then I don't look. Claire holds my hands, apparently not caring what her parents know, and yet I still don't look. I'm a zombie as we walk to the car in stunned silence.