High Heels and Lipstick (8 page)

Mom should have known me better, though. I did things she didn't approve of, like having sex and partying, but I didn't want to die. Not even after everything that had happened.

“Maybe you should change schools,” Mom said. “There's an opening at the Catholic high school your cousin Leigh-Anne goes to.”

“Hell no.” I immediately put my hand over my mouth. As far as my parents were concerned, “hell” was a swear word and wasn't permitted at the table. “Sorry for my language. I'm not changing schools. The only way I would do that is if you let me do online school, and you keep saying no to that.”

“A new school will get you away from the kids who are making things difficult for you,” Mom argued.

I looked at Marcus. He was the third of the kids in our family. He hadn't been old enough when I was born to completely ignore me the way our older brothers Joseph and Lenny had, and he was used to having a younger kid around so he hadn't resented me as much as Andy. Marcus usually had my back, especially against our parents.

“Say something,” I said. “Would you let them make you go to a religious school?”

“No, but I've never been in the same position you are.” Marcus sighed. “You don't talk to anyone anymore. You just go into your room and check the crap people post about you. I see you on Facebook all the time.”

“I talk to plenty of people.” He was right, though. Most of the time I tried to avoid my family. It wasn't so much because I didn't want to be around them. It was more that I wanted to minimize the chance of hearing them say something negative about the way I'd lived my life until November.

I wasn't ashamed of anything I'd done, but in my family, good girls waited until marriage or at least engagement to have sex. I didn't see the point in waiting around to sleep with a guy who might not even know what he was doing, and then be stuck with him for the rest of my life. I wanted to have fun and try things and sample the possibilities before I settled.

Plus sex felt good, and as long as the people doing it wanted to and were smart about it, I didn't see why there had to be a problem. But that wasn't a popular opinion in my family. At least not for girls. Guys were allowed to stick it wherever they wanted as long as they didn't catch anything or knock up anyone.

So far, my parents and brothers hadn't said a word against me when I was around. I didn't know what they said when I couldn't hear them, though, and I didn't trust that they wouldn't spout off at me if I spent too much time with them.

“You had a lot of friends,” Marcus said.

“I had a lot of people I par—spent time with,” I said. Talking about partying wouldn't help my case. “If they were actually my friends, they wouldn't have turned on me. But that doesn't mean I should go to a different school. Kids from this town go to Leigh-Anne's school. They're going to have heard about everything. At least here, I know what people are going to say and who's most likely to say it. A different school might be even worse.”

“It isn't really your decision,” Dad said. “Your mother and I want to do what's best for you. At the Catholic school, you might meet people who are a better influence on you.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I stared at him. “Dad, have you listened when Leigh-Anne talks about that place? There are five girls in her grade right now who are pregnant, and two seniors who got married already because they had kids. And I've been to parties with kids who go to that school. They drink, do drugs, all that stuff more than anyone I go to school with. Just because it's a Catholic school doesn't mean everyone's all goody-goody. Some of them are pretty much the total opposite of goody.”

I should have known better than to bad-mouth anything Catholic in front of my parents. Not that I was actually bad-mouthing the religion or church or anything. I was telling the truth about what Leigh-Anne had said and what I'd observed about some of the people who went to that particular school.

Of course, my parents didn't see it that way.

“I don't believe you,” Mom snapped. “You're just trying to talk us out of the decision, and I don't even understand why. Why would you want to keep going to a school where people drive each other to suicide?”

She practically shrieked the last word and then burst into tears. All I could do was stare at her. And all my dad and brothers did was look uncomfortable.

I couldn't think of a response right away. At least not a positive one. I could have pointed out that only one person had attempted suicide and she hadn't succeeded, but that wouldn't have made Mom feel any better. And I would have had to add “so far,” which would kind of take away my point.

After what other people had said to me, I could easily have done the same thing as Maryellen. She hadn't been able to take what people were saying. Like me, she had probably realized that Jim having to pay for what he admitted he'd done didn't necessarily mean people would stop putting us down.

I could sort of handle it, but I definitely had times when I didn't want to. At least my friends and Kendra supported me. I didn't know what kind of support Maryellen had. If any. Hopefully once she got out of the hospital, she would have help.

What I did know was kids were assholes everywhere. We all treated each other badly at least once in a while. It wasn't exclusive to any particular school, and sending me somewhere else wouldn't change anything.

Mom kept crying. Andy, who was sitting closest to her, reached over and put his hand on her shoulder. It didn't seem to help.

I finally came up with something to say. “I want to be at the school where I have friends. If I go to Leigh-Anne's school, she might have my back, but she might not. It depends on what her friends say about me. Here, I definitely have friends who stick up for me. And the nurse and my guidance counselor know what happened, and so do some of the other staff. I have support at school. You want me to go to a school where you think no one knows anything about me, but I guarantee they do, and some of the staff might agree with some of the kids that I deserved what happened.”

“Are you safe at school?” Dad asked. “Do you honestly feel safe, especially after what happened to that other girl?”

“She did it to herself.” That sounded cold as hell, but I couldn't think of any other way to put it. “She was the only one who was a danger to herself. People said things, but no one made her do what she did. She wasn't safe because she decided not to be. Kind of.”

I covered my face with my hands. I was speaking total crap. It wasn't what I meant. I didn't blame Maryellen or think she was a horrible person for trying to hurt herself. I was just having trouble figuring out the right words to express that no one else had made her do it. “She was physically safe at school. No one's pushed us around or hit us or anything. People say things, but people always say things about each other. No one's threatened me, and I don't think anyone threatened her. Just a bunch of crap like we deserved what Jim did, and we should be ashamed of ourselves, and we probably lied. That kind of thing.”

I left out the part where more than one person had said I would be better off dead. I didn't consider that a threat, but Mom and Dad would have.

“Someone almost died.” Mom sniffled and dabbed her nose with her napkin.

“She chose to.” I took my hands away from my face. “I don't mean it's her fault. I mean, she heard the same things I did. It isn't right that people are saying those things. They shouldn't be. But she decided to try to die instead of finding another way to handle it. No one told her to do that, and no one did it to her.”

I still sounded like I was blaming everything on Maryellen, and I didn't know how to explain myself any more clearly, so I decided I should just shut up.

“It isn't your decision whether to stay at your current school or change,” Dad said again. “We think you'd be safer and happier at the Catholic school. We understand you disagree. We aren't going to make the final decision tonight, but the final decision belongs to your mother and me.”

“It's my life.” If they tried to make me change schools, I would drop out. I was old enough to get a GED or something. I was damned if I would go to the school that, according to my cousin, had more drugs and sex and bullying going on than my school did. Of course, my parents would never believe that.

“You're our daughter,” Dad said firmly.

“Chastaine, you understand Mom and Dad are just trying to take care of you, right?” Andy said.

I should have known he would take their side. He always did, especially if it meant I got in trouble. “I know, but they aren't doing it the right way. If I leave school, all the people who are being sh—dumbheads will win. I need to stay where I am to prove that I haven't done anything wrong and don't have anything to be afraid of. Everyone keeps telling me I did the right thing to report it. I was brave and sh—crap. So I'm going to keep being brave, if I didn't do anything wrong.”

“That makes sense.” Dad rubbed his chin with his thumb and middle finger, the way he always did when he was thinking. We all knew that meant we should be quiet.

I grabbed a dinner roll from the plate in the center of the table. I wasn't hungry after all the pizza and baklava I'd eaten at Holly's, but Mom made the rolls from scratch and they were always amazing. Even though the roll was cold and I didn't bother putting butter on it, it still tasted incredible.

It wasn't until I swallowed the last bite that I registered the fact that I didn't feel sick to my stomach. I'd actually eaten a lot at Holly's and had kept it all down, and the roll seemed to be okay too. Usually I threw up within a few seconds of swallowing something, but this time I felt fine. Not even a twinge of nausea.

I took it as a sign that I was doing the right thing by trying to persuade my parents not to make me change schools.

“I had a couple pieces of pizza at Holly's,” I said. “And some fries. And half a piece of baklava.”

“Why are you giving us your menu for the day?” Andy rolled his eyes. “We don't care.”

“We do.” Mom blinked a few times. “You ate all that? Plus the roll?”

I nodded. “I don't feel sick.”

“Even after everything that happened today?” She knew what set off my stomach as well as I did. “You're okay?”

“I'm not okay.” That was way too generous a word for how I felt. “But I ate and I didn't get sick.”

“You were so upset this morning.” Mom looked confused.

“I still am.” I tapped my fingers on the table. I was pretty much done with this conversation, but I knew better than to just get up and walk away. “I should have helped Maryellen more. I think I'm going to have to talk to Kendra about that. It's as much my fault as anyone's, if it's anyone's fault at all, because I went through the same thing she did. I should have helped her.”

My voice broke, but I didn't let myself cry this time either. Everyone supported Mom when she cried, but I'd heard my dad and brothers complain about how emotional she was. Ever since I was little, I'd listened to them, and so I'd learned early on not to cry too much. I was the youngest in the family and the only daughter, and I didn't want my dad and brothers to think I was too emotional.

I had a reason to cry, but with my father, Marcus, and Andy all sitting there, I couldn't let myself actually do it.

“It isn't your fault,” Marcus said. “You didn't know what she was going to do, and you might not have been able to stop it even if you did.”

“That doesn't help, but thanks for trying.” I gave him the closest thing I could manage to a smile. “Maybe I could have stopped her, maybe not. I won't ever have a chance to find out, probably. Ms. Rondeau said Maryellen isn't coming back to school, and I don't think she wants to be my friend. So I can't just ask her if I should have done anything to help her.”

I would always wonder if I could have made a difference, though.

“We're getting very far off track,” Dad said. He was all about staying on topic most of the time. “Chastaine, we're going to think about this overnight. Your mother and I will consider your position, and we would like you to keep an open mind about the possibility of changing schools. We'll talk about it tomorrow night at supper. You will be home for that.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Good.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I'm going to go watch the cable news. Chastaine, make sure you do your homework. Boys, thank you for being here. Help your mother.” He walked into the other room without giving anyone a chance to reply.

O
VERNIGHT
, I
had nightmares. Maryellen. Jim. My
grandparents' creepy neighbor who had flashed me when I was seven.

When I woke up, I was pissed. Maryellen shouldn't have given up so easily. I hoped she would be okay. She might go on to meet a decent guy. Get married, have kids, have a good career. If she had died, no one would ever have known what she might have become. At least she still had a chance.