Come Back To Me (12 page)

go to college. I had a dream to join the marines and I fol-

lowed it. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a

dream and not be able to pursue it.

‘Well, I plan on having a wild summer and then an

even more wild and crazy four years in college,’ Didi

announces.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask her.

‘USC,’ she answers with a smile before glancing to-

wards Jessa and biting her lip in a grimace.

Jessa gives a tight, bright smile which I don’t buy for a

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second. That’s gotta suck, knowing your best friend is

going to the college you want to go to.

‘What are you girls doing for prom?’ Jo asks.

‘When’s prom?’ I ask, sitting up.

‘Next Saturday,’ Jessa mumbles.

‘Who are you going with?’ Jo asks. ‘You got dates?’

‘No,’ Jessa says quickly. Was that for my benefit?

‘What about Peter?’ Jo asks.

‘Who?’ Didi says.

‘The guy you said you liked,’ Jo answers, giving her a

knowing smile. She then glances my way and I frown at

them both, confused. Who’s Peter?

‘You can’t go to prom on your own,’ Jo says. ‘No one

goes to prom alone. Not even the dorks and the dweebs

go on their own.’

Jessa shrugs.

‘Are you putting us lower down on the social ladder

than dorks and dweebs?’ Didi asks.

Jo laughs. ‘No, but come on, you girls telling me you

can’t find dates? I find that hard to believe.’

‘We go to an all girls’ school,’ Jessa says. I can see she’s

squirming a little at the interrogation, her cheeks going

red. I know it’s not just the fact she goes to an all girls’

school. I bet her father wouldn’t even let her go with a

date. I remember her telling me about her junior prom

disaster.

‘Well I think that’s tragic and we can’t let it happen.

Riley?’

‘Huh?’ Riley says, turning to Jo. He hasn’t been listen-

ing. He’s been watching the volleyball game going on

next to us.

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‘Your sister and her best friend don’t have dates for

prom.’

Riley looks at her blankly, not knowing where she’s

going with this but instinctively aware it’s going some-

where he’s not going to like. Meanwhile I’m totally ahead

of him. I’ve figured out exactly what Jo’s going to say

next and I’m totally down with it. Especially if it means

getting this guy Peter out of the picture.

‘You guys need to take them.’ Jo looks at me as she

says it, nodding encouragingly.

Riley pulls a face. ‘What?’ he asks.

‘Why not?’ Jo says. ‘Girls, what do you think? How

about Riley and Kit take you? They could be your dates.’

‘Seriously?’ asks Didi, glancing at us both. ‘That would

be awesome.’ She elbows Jessa in the ribs. ‘Wouldn’t it?’

Jessa frowns. She looks down at the sand, digging into

it with her heel. ‘Um, I’m not sure my dad will allow it.’

‘Why not?’ Jo asks. ‘He can’t object to Riley taking you

to prom.’

‘Riley?’ she asks, her head flying up.

‘Yeah,’ Jo says. ‘And Kit can take Didi.’ She turns and

winks at me and in that same second I realize with horror

that Jo’s gotten the wrong idea. She thinks I have a thing

for Didi. I’m not sure how she got the idea and I almost

blurt something to set her straight, but before I can, Jessa

speaks up.

‘OK, that could work,’ she says. She looks at me. ‘I

mean, if Kit’s OK with that.’

She gives me a small smile and instantly I see what

she’s doing. This might be the best way of us getting to

prom together.

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‘Sure,’ I say, acting non-committal. ‘I guess.’

Jo claps her hands together in delight, figuring her little

match-making effort has worked perfectly.

The girls all start chatting about dresses and whatever

and I zone out. Somehow I’m taking Jessa to her high

school prom. Sweet.

‘Dude.’

I turn my head. Riley’s leaning over, trying to catch my

attention. ‘Didi?’ he asks, pulling a surprised expression.

‘Isn’t she a little young for you?’

I raise my eyebrows at him. If he thinks Didi is too

young for me, what about his sister? ‘She’s eighteen,’ I

whisper. ‘How’s that too young?’

‘Bro,’ Riley says, his expression darkening. ‘She’s my

sister’s best friend. You are not allowed to go there.’

‘Cut me some slack, OK?’ I answer, riled. I have no

intention of going there but I can’t admit that to Riley or

I’ll blow our cover. But at the same time I’m thinking if

this is how he reacts to the thought of me making a move

on Didi, what the hell would he do if he knew I’d already

made a move on his sister?

‘I mean it,’ Riley says, getting to his feet. He stares

down at me, a hard stare, and he looks like he’s about

to say something else before he thinks twice and stomps

off.I watch him go. Shit. I dig my fingers into the sand.

Maybe I should just back away now, tell Jessa we can’t

see each other any more. But then I glance in her direc-

tion. She’s laughing at something Didi’s saying and then

she looks my way and my breath catches in my chest like

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a fishing hook just snagged in my lungs. Walking away

has always been so easy − I’ve never had to think twice

before. But with Jessa walking away feels impossible.

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Jessa

The warning signs are all there. When I get home from

the beach a heavy silence shrouds the house. The atmos-

phere is so thick with tension that even opening the front

door is like pushing against wet sand. All the happiness

buzzing through me drains the instant I set foot inside the

house. Riley is driving Jo home and I look at the clock in

the hall, praying that he makes it back on time for dinner.

As I tiptoe towards the stairs I realize I’m holding my

breath. I glance at the door to my dad’s study. I don’t

know how I know he’s in there, I just do. If he wasn’t at

home then the house wouldn’t feel this way.

The smell of roast chicken wafts from the kitchen but

the radio is off, another sure sign. My mom always likes

to listen to the radio while she’s cooking, except on the

days when my dad is in one of his moods. It’s the signal

flare I’ve come to watch for. Since Riley has been gone

things have been calmer and there have been fewer epi-

sodes. My mom and I are both naturally quieter, more

used to reading my dad’s moods and tailoring our own to

his. Riley, being louder and less aware, seems to trigger

my dad more often. One time it was for playing his music

too loud, another time for bouncing a ball against the side

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of the house, stupid things, little things, things that any

normal human being would not freak out about.

My mom comes out of the kitchen when I’m halfway

up the stairs. I see her before she notices me, noticing at

once how pale she looks and how on edge. Her move-

ments are fluttery as she tidies her hair and straightens

her apron, her eyes flickering the whole time to the study

door. She catches sight of me and jumps, her hand flying

to her mouth.

‘Oh, Jessa,’ she whispers, ‘you scared me.’

‘Sorry,’ I whisper back.

She glances at the study door again and then at me, her

gaze dropping to my sandy shorts and wet hair, a frown

creasing her forehead.

‘Go and get changed. Hurry. Dinner’s on the table at

five.’

I nod and run up the stairs, my heart beating so loudly

I worry he can hear it. God, why does it always have to

be this way? I ease open my bedroom door and take care

to close it silently, but obviously not quietly enough

because my dad immediately starts shouting.

I head into the bathroom and turn the shower on

fully, hoping to drown him out along with the somehow

more stressful sound of my mom’s murmured attempts to

placate him.

Under the waterfall of water I close my eyes and sum-

mon up the memory of Kit’s hands running over my

back, his fingers gripping me by the waist as though

fighting the desire to pull me backwards into his arms.

A tingling, warm sensation moves through my body, a

surge of heat that travels like lightning from my core and

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settles as an ache between my legs. My eyes flash open.

Breathing hard, I rest my head against the shower tiles as

I imagine Kit in the shower with me, standing behind me,

pulling me back against him, his rock-hard abs, the

strength of his arms.

The front door slamming jolts me out of my fantasy.

It’s Riley. As usual a little slow to read the situation, he’s

burst right into a flammable environment waving a lit

match. My dad starts shouting at him. Through the

thunder of the shower I hear Riley reply and I wince,

anticipating the full-blown shouting match that’s about to

kick off. Riley’s tone, however, is quiet and respectful –

the tone we’ve both learned to adopt in order to defuse

the situation – and after a beat I hear my dad’s study door

shut. It worked. There’s no more shouting. I step out the

shower and grab a towel. My hands are shaking. I can’t

work out whether it’s from nerves or from thinking about

Kit.

‘Pass the potatoes, please.’

My father is the only person who’s so far said a word

all dinner. We eat in silence, the three of us anticipating

the fall of the knife and praying none of us are beneath it

when it happens. I can barely eat. Riley keeps his head

down, shovelling his food up in silence, though at one

point he looks up and winks at me. We just have to get

through this hour and then we’re free, is the message he’s

giving me. no, I think to myself,
you’re
free, you get to go

around to Jo’s. I have to stay home. I wish I could just

leave too, drive around to Kit’s house or to Didi’s. It’s so

unfair. I don’t even have my licence yet. My dad refused

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to pay for lessons and wouldn’t let my mom buy me a car

for my birthday. Just another way he sees fit to control my

life. I spear a carrot and try not to think about how I have

to live this way for another four years, but it’s too late −

tears burn my eyes and I have to blink them away. Crying

is another sure fire way to send my dad over the edge.

‘So, Jessa.’ I look up. My mom gives me a nervous

smile, which flutters at the edges of her mouth. ‘Are you

excited about prom?’

I stare at her, confused. Why is she bringing this up

now? ‘Um, I guess,’ I say, glancing at my dad, who

thankfully doesn’t seem to be listening.

‘Are you and Didi going together?’

‘Yes,’ I answer, my throat getting tighter and drier.

‘Kit and I are taking them,’ Riley says.

I shoot him a look. What is he doing? Automatically I

brace myself, hands flat on the table as though readying

myself for a blast. I glance at my dad again.

He’s looking at me, his fork half-raised to his mouth. I

swallow. He puts his fork back down. Bad sign.

‘Kit?’ he says, his voice a bullet.

Riley shrugs and keeps eating. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says.

‘He’s taking Didi. I’m Jessa’s date.’

‘Oh, isn’t that lovely,’ my mom bursts out in a fake,

breezy voice that fails to hide the note of fear. She looks at

me. ‘We’ll have to go shopping for a new dress.’

‘Does Didi know what kind of trouble her date is?’ my

dad asks.

Heat rises up my throat, floods across my face as my

blood boils beneath my skin. Before I can stop myself I’m

on my feet. ‘What have you got against Kit?’ I yell.

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As soon as the words have left my mouth my legs start

to shake and I collapse back down into my seat. My dad

blinks at me in shock. I’m even more shocked than he is. I

can’t believe I just did that. I’ve never, ever had an out-

burst before, let alone at the dining table. A mortuary-like

silence swirls around us, so thick and solid you could cut

it with a blunt knife.

Out the corner of my eye I see my brother staring at me

open-mouthed.

‘You’re always so mean about him,’ I say in a quieter

voice, trying not to let it shake. ‘And I don’t understand

why. What’s Kit ever done to you?’

A muscle twitches at the side of my dad’s eye. His

mouth forms a ruler line. My insides turn liquid. Where