Four Doors Down (19 page)

“What?” I demand. I’m in no mood for this.

“Look, I’m sorry about the dodgeball thing earlier,” he says.

“Really? What part?” I ask sarcastically. “The part where I’m now covered in bruises thanks to your psycho girlfriend? The part where you took your shitty mood out on me? Or the part where you made me look like a complete idiot yet again?”

“I’m sorry, but you weren’t even trying.”

“Because you ignored me for more than half the class and only then decided to try and involve me!”

“Well you wouldn’t listen to me!” he shouts back.

“I don’t give a shit, Ryan,” I say and turn to walk away, but he grabs my arm and turns me around, not letting me leave.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well you might want to tell her that because I’m pretty sure she thinks that she is. Nice choice Ryan, you picked a real gem there.”

“You think she was jealous?”

“What? No. Of course not. Why would she be jealous of me? She was pissed off with your little act back there. And she’s not the only one.”

“What act?”

“Picking me up! What the hell was that about?”

“You wouldn’t move!” he shouts back.

“And what was the other thing? Oh yeah, kissing my bruise better?”

He has the good grace to at least look away when I say this. “That was a joke.”

“Yeah, at my expense, as usual. Just something else for you and your friends to laugh about.”

“What is your problem with my friends? You don’t even know them. John told me he’s tried talking to you in class a couple of times after we were all at my house that time and he couldn’t get two words out of you. And, for some reason, Katie really likes you, but you can barely smile at her.”

“I don’t need the popular parade taking pity on me.”

“Taking pity on you?” he scoffs. “You’ve got such a chip on your shoulder, Becca, you know that? You decide something and then that’s it, there’s no changing it.”

“Stop acting like you know me!” I shout.

“I do know you, Becca,” he throws back.

“Is that why you decided to teach me a lesson today then? Pull me down a peg or two, because of that chip on my shoulder?” I ask.

“You are so damn stubborn. If I’d been anyone else you’d have listened to me out there and made an effort.”

“Oh get over yourself, Ryan. You don’t have that much influence over me.”

He looks away, jaw clenched like he’s trying to decide something. A minute passes and he turns back to me. “You didn’t come to my game.”

My jaw falls open.
This is what he’s mad about? You have got to be kidding me.

“Grow up, Ryan! Half the school went to your stupid little game. You got your precious record, and then went to the party afterward and banged one of the hottest girls at school. Boohoo for you,” I say spitefully. I don’t care how bitchy I sound, how dare he humiliate me and let me get hurt just because there wasn’t one more face in the crowd at his moment of glory.

He clenches his fists like he’s trying to control himself; I can see a vein throbbing in his temple. He’s really mad at me now, but I don’t care; I’m mad too. “Thanks to you and that skank that you’re not dating, I’ve had the worst headache all day. So, well done. I’ve been suitably punished for not bowing down to the great Ryan Jackson. Now leave me the hell alone!” I shout furiously.

I turn to walk away again, but he reaches out and rests his hand on my left hipbone, his thumb gently brushing the bare skin in between the top of my jeans and the bottom of my T-shirt.

I freeze.
What is he doing?
That’s way too intimate a place to be touching me. He notices my reaction and glances down at his hand like he didn’t realize he’d done it. He immediately drops his hand and looks away.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” he says quietly.

What?
Now I feel all flustered and don’t know what I’m doing. Oh right, we’re fighting.

“I don’t care, Ryan. I don’t care about any of it,” I declare after a pause.

“Yeah, it really sounds like it,” he says sarcastically.

I shoot him one last venomous look and turn around to see several students standing in the parking lot gawking at us. Brilliant. Now they’ll have that to gossip about too. I hurry back across the parking lot and get into my car. I’m so angry my hands are shaking and I feel dangerously close to tears.

I’m mostly mad at myself, though. I’d started to let him back in, started actually talking to him, not just ignoring him. Started thinking that maybe we could be civil to each other again and maybe one day be friends. I’m an idiot. A complete and utter idiot.

A
ny hope I had of mine and Ryan’s fight not being public knowledge is quashed the second I walk into the cafeteria the next day. I swear the room goes silent, and then as a whole it’s as if they look at me and then over to Ryan’s table, where he’s sitting next to Jessica, who’s grinning smugly at me with her arm around his shoulder.

God, she’s pathetic. Like I care.

I mean, I’m sure there are some people who couldn’t care less, but it definitely doesn’t feel like it at that moment. I try to toughen it out and join my table, but I’m in a foul mood and after several attempts by the girls to get me to join in the conversation, they eventually give up. And even though I can tell Erica’s desperate to ask about Ryan, the thunderous look I give her warns her off. I only glance up once and, of course, there Ryan is, glaring straight over at me, making it so obvious that his whole table is aware and gawking too. I feel like I’m in a fishbowl and give up. I’m not having this. I leave my untouched tray of food on the table, grab my bag and leave without a word, trying to pretend I don’t notice the hush that falls over the room. They probably think I’m going to go crazy and start a fight or something. I guess this is what happens when you fight with the prom king and queen. I haven’t been back to the cafeteria this week.

I’m still thinking about this later that week when I pull up outside Jay’s house to collect him for my mom. I beep my horn, expecting him to run right out as usual, but there’s no sign of him. Awesome. He’s probably doing this on purpose and is in one of his brattish moods. I climb out of the car, slamming the door behind me and make my way up the path to the front door. It’s only when I’ve rang the doorbell I realize the driveway is unusually full of cars. I turn back to the door confused and ring the bell again, but I still don’t get an answer.

I try the doorknob and it’s open. “Hello?” I call.

I step into the house and I’m instantly met with the smell of smoke and is that…marijuana? I make my way down the hallway, calling out to Jay and my aunt. I head toward the kitchen, as I can hear music blasting from that direction. I swing open the door to the kitchen and stop dead.

My aunt is at the kitchen table laughing manically at something one of the three men who are also at the table has said. The table is strewn with beer and empty liquor bottles and there’s a haze of smoke hanging over them. The blinds of the room are closed so the whole room is bathed in darkness with the only light coming from a lamp in the corner. There’s aggressive rock music that I don’t recognize blasting from the iPod dock.

My aunt looks up and sees me. “Becca!” she shouts loudly.

She jumps up and staggers drunkenly to greet me and tries to throw her arms around me. I let her hug me but actually duck my head back to avoid her breath. She’s clearly been drinking for hours. I have no idea who the men are. They’re all my aunt’s age or older, and from the looks of them, she met them in one of the dive bars she’s been hanging out in. They’re all covered in tattoos, dressed in scruffy jeans and t-shirts and all look creepy as hell.

Aunt Ruth pulls me over to the table. “This is my niece,” she announces.

They look at me with interest, and I can feel their eyes raking up and down my body as I try not to shudder.

My aunt grabs a used glass next to her and tips some whiskey into it before shoving it into my hands. “Here, have a drink!” I look down in surprise at my hands. My mother would flip if she knew my aunt was offering me alcohol.

What is going on?
I feel like I’ve entered a parallel universe. This is not the aunt I know. I know she’s been going through a hard time recently, but I had no idea she was drinking to this extent and mixing with these men who are clearly using her for the drinks in her cabinet and whatever else they can get.

“We’re about to play strip poker.” Oh God, I’ve got to get out of here. My mom’s obviously messed up and Jay’s not here.

“Yeah, sugar, take a seat,” one of the men leers at me. I glance at him in disgust; he looks older than my dad. I cannot believe these are the kind of people my aunt is mixing with.

“Actually, I’m gonna go,” I say to my Aunt. “I thought I was picking Jay up, but I obviously got the wrong day or something.”

“Jay’s upstairs,” my aunt says nonchalantly and I feel sick. Jay is in the same house as all these men while they’re drinking like fishes and getting high? And she was just talking about strip poker! What if Jay walked into that? The aunt I know would never, ever do that. She would never put Jay in a situation like this.

“Oh, so should I just grab him, then? Take him back to my house?” I ask, trying hard to keep my voice upbeat and normal.

My aunt shrugs and goes to the kitchen door. “Jay!” she screams at the top of her lungs. “Jay, come down here!”

I feel a hand reach out and brush my leg and I nearly jump a mile. I turn to see one of the men smirking at me and I step away from them toward the door. Jay enters, his eyes wide, looking around nervously. My aunt bends down and picks him up, something he’s too big for now and kisses him sloppily on the cheek. Jay doesn’t pull away from her, he doesn’t move a muscle and lets her do what she wants. I feel my heart starting to beat faster in my chest. I need to get him out of here.

“Hi, Jay,” I say, plastering a smile on my face, trying to act like this isn’t a horrible situation. “You ready to go?”

He nods slightly, his eyes still wide as my aunt puts him down. She turns and whirls on me. “Why are you here, anyway? Why have you come to get Jay?”

“Mom said she was watching him tonight? I came to get him for her.”

Her eyes narrow and she staggers toward me, pulling Jay along by the arm behind her. “Oh did she now? Well isn’t my dear sister just so sweet? Always interfering. Sarah is always butting in,” she rants. She goes over to the table and picks up her drink, downing it in one gulp. “Well, Jay’s my son, not hers, Becca! Did you know that? You tell her that Jay’s mine and she cannot keep taking him.”

She plops down in her seat and one of the men starts dealing out playing cards while another swigs directly from a bottle of whiskey. She reaches for Jay and pulls him into her lap. He stares at me the whole time, his lips trembling as he tries to stay brave and not cry.

“You don’t want to go over to Becca’s and see my stupid sister, do you, Jay?” she asks him, hugging him tightly. He looks at his mom and then back to me. I think I can see tears starting to form in his eyes but he blinks rapidly to stop them from falling and shakes his head solemnly at me. I nod, trying to keep calm. I don’t know what the best thing to do is. I can’t leave him here in this environment, but my aunt does not seem to be in the mood to let him go and I don’t want to infuriate her any further.

“Okay, no problem. I’ll just go home then,” I say. “Can I just give Jay a present first that I got for him?”

She nods and lets Jay down from her lap. He’s standing next to me in seconds, his little body shaking. I can’t imagine how terrifying this must be for him, seeing his mom like this. I kneel down beside him and dig around in my bag, pulling out a bag of candy (leftover from the haul Ryan got me), as though that’s his gift. “I’m going to come back okay, Jay?” I whisper to him. “I’m just gonna go and get my parents, and they’ll come back and look after your mom and get rid of these men. Is that okay?”

He nods back at me, his mouth plastered together in a thin line, trying to stop his lips from trembling.

I plaster a huge smile on my face and give him a quick hug. “Okay. Bye, Aunt Ruth,” I call from the door before quickly exiting the house.

I race to my car and jump in, put it in reverse and start driving home as fast as I can. I reach for my phone and dial my mom, but she doesn’t answer. I dial my dad instead, but the office secretary tells me he’s in a meeting off site and didn’t want to be interrupted. I hang up on her before she can continue and call his cell instead; still no answer. I screech around a corner and pray that there are no cops around as I race back to my house. I pull up outside my house and sigh in relief when I see my mom’s car in the drive.

I race into the house, leaving my stuff in the car. In my haste, I don’t even bother to close the car door. I have this horrible feeling that something bad will happen if I don’t get Jay out of that house and get my aunt some help. I don’t know what those men are capable of and I don’t think she’s safe.

“Mom!” I call as loudly as I can, trying desperately not to panic as I’m scared it will slow me down.

There’s no answer and I run through the house, checking every room. When I can’t find her, I rush upstairs thinking she’s maybe in her bedroom, but that too is empty. “Mom!” I call again, running back downstairs and into the kitchen.