Homecoming Queen (10 page)

“
I ALREADY TOLD YOU, DJ.
I did
not
take your Vicodin.” Taylor’s voice sounded slightly bored now, as if she thought that would be more convincing. She had come to DJ’s temporary quarters to check on DJ’s face this morning, which was blessedly normal again, and then she’d acted all surprised when DJ had confronted her about the missing pain pills.

“Then why am I almost out?” demanded DJ. She shook the nearly empty bottle beneath Taylor’s nose. “And you’re the only one who showed the slightest bit of interest in them. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past you, Taylor.”

Taylor just smirked. “Well, you did seem to be enjoying the pills, DJ. Maybe you’ve been double-dosing.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then someone else took them, DJ. Because, like I told you, I did not.” She turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Despite Taylor’s dramatic routine, DJ felt certain it had to be Taylor. She’d been in DJ’s little “recovery” room a lot. She’d been the only one to mention the pills, acting like they were some kind of special treat. It just added up. It had to be Taylor.

DJ hobbled out on her crutches in time to see the girls leaving for school. Taylor left on her Vespa — probably ticked because DJ wasn’t able to drive her and, naturally, Eliza wasn’t offering. Plus, Eliza’s car was already full. Well, it served Taylor right. And DJ didn’t even care if it rained today, which looked like a possibility. Maybe another good soaking would help Taylor wake up.

DJ was tempted to tell her grandmother about the missing Vicodin — and about Taylor’s other vices as well. What would Grandmother think if she knew that Taylor not only smoked and drank and engaged in casual sex, but stole prescription drugs as well? Still, DJ could just imagine Grandmother defending Taylor, reminding DJ of how “beautiful” Taylor was and what a future she might have in the fashion industry.

Besides, as much as DJ hated to admit it, and as irrational as it seemed, DJ still cared about Taylor. And since she’d been praying for the girl, she probably cared even more. Oh, sure, she didn’t care for a lot of the stunts that Taylor pulled. And sometimes she almost wanted to kill Taylor. There was also something about this mixed-up girl that drew DJ in. And DJ had hopes that Taylor was changing. Okay, she was like a yo-yo, or a ping-pong ball, but she was changing. And yet, it was wrong for Taylor to steal DJ’s pain meds. DJ knew that for a fact. Not only was it wrong; it was dangerous. And before the day was over, DJ intended to prove that Taylor was guilty.

“You seem to be getting around better,” said Grandmother as Inez helped DJ back to a standing position with her crutches. To get down the front porch steps, DJ had to sit down on her bottom and ease herself down one at a time. Not exactly graceful, but better than taking a tumble.

“I guess,” huffed DJ as she slowly made her way to Grandmother’s Mercedes.

“You okay now?” asked Inez as she helped balance DJ, easing her into the front seat of the car.

DJ nodded. “Thanks.”

“Maybe I should come with you,” said Inez.

“No, thank you,” said Grandmother briskly. “We’ll be fine.”

DJ’s vote would be to let Inez come with them, but it was too late now. Inez closed the door, made a little wave, and Grandmother began to back up. DJ wondered how it was that she’d been so unlucky in family.

“Did you ever tell my dad about the accident?” asked DJ tentatively.

“No. Did you want me to tell him?” Grandmother glanced at DJ as she slowed for the stoplight.

DJ considered this. “No, not really.”

“If you think he should know, you are certainly free to call him yourself, Desiree. But, as you know, I am not inclined to maintain a relationship with him.” Grandmother sighed loudly. “When I think of how he treated my daughter, your mother, well, I find that it’s unforgivable.”

DJ nodded. The truth was that DJ found it unforgivable as well. Even as a Christian, she wasn’t sure how to think about her father. Mostly she didn’t. DJ decided not to think about him today either. Besides that, Grandmother was turning toward the hospital complex now.

Fortunately, the physical rehab building had a handy driveway for Grandmother to pull up and let DJ out. With a flat surface to walk on and electronic doors, DJ made her way inside without too much trouble and only the normal amount of pain.

She had just sat down to fill out the paperwork when Grandmother joined her, glancing around the medical facility as if it made her uncomfortable. Or maybe she was imagining that she was here for some kind of painful cosmetic treatment.

“I spoke to the receptionist,” said Grandmother quietly. “She said your session will be nearly two hours, so I think I will go do some shopping.” She smiled stiffly. “You don’t need me to sit here and wait for you, do you?”

“No, of course, not.”

“You have fun then.”

DJ nodded and returned to the form. Fun. Yeah, right.

After a fairly long wait, DJ thought maybe she should have gone shopping too, but finally a slender brunette woman smiled down at her “Hi. You must be DJ. I’m Selena, your new best friend.”

DJ smiled. “Are you my physical therapist?”

“I sure am. Are you ready for some hard work?”

“I guess so.”

“Great. If you invest yourself in this, it will really speed up your recovery.” Selena helped DJ stand up and led her to the therapy room. At first DJ was relieved to see what looked like regular workout machines, but as Selena put her through the paces, DJ realized that she was no longer the athlete she had so recently been. And two hours later, she was totally exhausted. Her entire body ached from the exercises, but she had to admit it felt good to be moving again.

“Here, let me help you get into your walking boot,” Selena said kindly. “I may be tough in therapy, but therapy is over now and I can baby you.” She grinned as she loosened the Velcro straps on the foam boot. “How’s your pain level?”

“Everything still hurts a lot.” DJ let out a groan as she slid her foot into the bright blue boot. “I’ve been taking my pain meds pretty steadily.”

“That’s okay,” said Selena. “Part of recovering is to keep the pain at bay. It allows your body to relax and heal itself better.”

DJ cringed as Selena adjusted the Velcro straps and then began to fasten them securely around the boot. “Too bad I’m almost out of Vicodin.”

“Oh, didn’t you have a full prescription?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, it seemed like I had more. And suddenly I didn’t. The truth is, I think that my roommate might’ve taken some of the pills.” The words popped out of DJ’s mouth before she had a chance to consider whether or not to say them.

Selena looked at DJ with misgiving.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure,” DJ said. “But she’s kind of like that.”

“That’s a serious charge, DJ.”

“I know.” She frowned. “What should I do?”

“Well, we’ll get you another prescription. But you better make sure they’re in a secure place — possibly a safe.”

“Seriously?”

Selena nodded as she readjusted the top strap. “How’s that feel?”

“It actually feels kind of good. Like it might support my leg better, and I won’t feel so worried about bumping it or hurting it more.”

“That’s the main idea.”

“So, am I actually supposed to actually walk on it?”

“Not yet. Just do some gentle pushes, the way I showed you. That kind of movement and pressure will help the bone to start knitting back together, and we’ll increase it over time.” “How soon will I be able to walk on it?”

“If all goes well, like it seems to be, I’d think you could be putting some weight on it, along with your crutches, by late next week.”

“And how long until I can lose the crutches?”

Selena looked up at the calendar — it was one from CCHS with a photo of the Mighty Maroons football team above it. She flipped it from September to October then pointed to the end of the first week. “We might have you walking with a cane by then.” She grinned at DJ. “Hey, that would be in time for your big homecoming dance. You planning to go?”

DJ shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, I can’t promise you’ll be dancing, but maybe you could be crutch-free by then.”

By the time DJ got home, she felt completely worn out. And, after a late lunch, she took a nap. When she woke up it was still a bit before three — before school got out. And she had a plan. She rang the little brass bell by her bed, and after a few minutes Inez showed up.

So far, Inez had been far more patient than usual, but now she looked slightly irate. “What is it?” she asked.

“Sorry to bother you,” DJ said quickly, “but if you could help me, you could have your room back.”

Now Inez brightened. “What do you need?”

“I just want to get my things upstairs, and if you could sort of hang around and make sure I don’t fall, I’ll try to make it up the stairs.”

Inez looked slightly concerned. “Is that okay? Did the doctor say it’s okay?”

“I practiced doing stairs at therapy today,” said DJ. Okay, she didn’t admit that it was only three stairs up and three stairs down. But at least she’d gotten comfortable with it. “And if you help me, I think I can do it.”

“Okay.” Inez nodded. “You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

It took awhile, but eventually DJ, with Inez’s supervision, made it up the stairs. Then, after Inez deposited DJ’s things in her room and left, DJ began searching through Taylor’s things, looking for the stolen pain pills. She was very careful, knowing that Taylor was pretty sharp when it came to her own things; but after about twenty minutes, DJ felt fairly certain that the pills weren’t there. They were probably in Taylor’s purse — or perhaps she’d already used them.

Whatever the case, DJ was determined not to allow this to happen again. And maybe she didn’t have a safe to keep her Vicodin in, but she would find a safe place. She poured the pills into an athletic shortie sock, which she then turned inside its sock mate, making them into a sock ball, which was how she stored her socks. She placed this, along with her other socks, in her sock drawer. It looked perfectly normal. The only thing that made it stand out was the maroon stripes around the tops.

After that, DJ went into the bathroom and, enjoying the luxury of a nice bathroom with plenty of space, she decided to take a shower. Her confidence in getting around was growing, and she felt fairly certain that, keeping in mind some of the tips Selena had given her, she should be able to accomplish this. Although it took longer than she expected and she was completely worn out when she finished — so much so that she sat down on the bench in her bathrobe just to recover — it felt like a small success.

Sitting there, she heard someone coming into the bedroom. Probably Taylor. And, although the bathroom door was ajar, DJ didn’t call out or say anything. She was just too tired.

“Hi, Mom,” said Taylor in a flat-sounding voice. “I got your message and am finally calling you back. But it seems, as usual, you’re not answering.” Long pause now, and DJ wondered if she’d hung up, but then she continued. “Anyway, yes, I’m okay. No, I didn’t kill myself. Yes, I considered it. And maybe I will follow through someday, but not today. And, no, there’s nothing you can do to help me. Well, except send more money. It seems my expenses are greater than we thought. I guess that’s all.” Now it was silent again, and suddenly DJ felt like an eavesdropper. Well, actually she was. She nervously reached for a crutch and, in her haste, knocked them both onto the tile floor with a loud crash.

“Who’s there?” shouted Taylor in a tough voice.

“It’s just me,” called DJ.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Taylor as she pushed open the door.

“Taking a shower.”

“But why? Why are you upstairs?”

“I went to physical therapy.” DJ tried to reach the closest crutch, but couldn’t. “I learned stairs.”

Taylor picked up the crutches and handed them to her. “Well, you could give a person some warning instead of sneaking around.”

“I wasn’t sneaking. I was just recovering from taking a shower. It was pretty exhausting.”

Taylor pressed her lips together like she was thinking. Maybe she was going to confess to taking the pills. “Do you need any help?”

DJ considered this. “Actually, some assistance would be nice.” So Taylor helped DJ put on the ribcage girdle then got her some clean clothes and finally helped her into her walking boot cast.

“You really are a mess, aren’t you?” said Taylor as DJ finally got to her feet, arranging her crutches beneath her arms.

“Yeah, thanks for caring.” DJ slowly made her way out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom, pausing to use her crutch to sweep her bed clear of the things that Taylor had tossed there. “I see you made yourself at home while I was gone.”

“You don’t have to be so grumpy.” Taylor picked up a few more things and tossed them to her own bed. “I’m the one who should be mad at you.”

“Why?” demanded DJ as she sat down on her bed with a loud sigh.

“For your accusation this morning.”

DJ studied Taylor. “You still claim that you didn’t take them?”

“It’s the truth.”