I Swear (14 page)

Three years of frustration broke loose somewhere near my right hamstring, and the next thing I knew, I raised my right foot in a kung fu kick and the door flew open, breaking the mirror on the back.

Krista shrieked and Macie jumped.

“Knew what for sure?” I yelled as I advanced on Krista, who was sitting on the floor in front of her bed. I was on my knees and grabbed her by the collar of her jean jacket. I pinned
her against the bed and shook her once, good and hard.

Macie started to laugh. “Oh, Beth. You’re so cute. Here, put Krista down.”

She pried my hands off Krista, who was scrambling for her glasses, which had been knocked off when I pushed her up against the bed. Just as she reached for them, I slammed my foot down on them, feeling the vintage plastic crack beneath my foot.

“You bitch,” Krista yelled.

Sam appeared at the door, holding an ice cream sandwich.

“Sam! Get out of here. Go to your own room,” Krista commanded.

“Just wanted to let you know that Mom called a minute ago. She’s on her way home from her shift at the hospital,” he said, then looked at Krista’s glasses, and noticed the shards of mirror lying on the area rug and the dark wood floor. “Everything okay?”

“Just working some things out,” said Macie brightly.

Sam slowly turned around and walked toward the stairs. Macie reached over and closed the door.

“Let’s make this brief, Beth. Due to your epic meltdown this week, the rest of us are in deep shit. You copped to the rumor about the boobs, which throws Krista under the bus for writing ‘whore’ on Leslie’s locker.”

“This is all bullshit,” I said. “You’ve lied so much for so long you don’t know what the truth is anymore.”

“I know the truth about one thing,” sneered Krista. “They’re going to jump all over me for the Sharpie-on-the-locker thing, and they’ll rake Josh over the coals for his stunt. But they’re missing some of the more colorful history about our little group.”

My stomach jumped into my throat. “What history?” I asked.

“Here, let me read some of it to you.” Krista picked up a worn lavender envelope and took out a piece of stationery that was inside. She opened it and read:

Dear Beth—

I’ve never told anyone that you tried to kiss me. I don’t know why you hate me so much. Ever since that day in my garage, you won’t even look me in the eye. I told you then, and I’ll say it again now: I don’t care if you’re gay. I didn’t ever want to hurt you. I just wanted you to be my friend.

Can we try to be friends again? Can you try to get Macie and the other girls to stop being so mean to me? I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m tired of crying every day. I’m tired of feeling worthless.

I want you to have this necklace. It reminds me of those two weeks before freshman year when I thought
you were going to be my best friend. Maybe it will remind you of those good times too.

Love, Leslie

When Krista finished reading, she slipped the note back into the envelope and smiled at me.

“Where did you get that?” I was shaking. The room was spinning.

“Don’t you remember?” Macie said with wide eyes. “Leslie tried to give it to you at your birthday party, but you refused to take it.”

It all came rushing back in a flood. Leslie showing up at my party the week before she died. The argument in the driveway. Begging her to leave.

“Probably didn’t want anything to do with the girl who turned you down, huh?” Krista smirked.

“I always thought you were a little lesbo.” Macie giggled. “I mean, you’re little choppy pixie cut is so dykadelish. When sharp-eyed Krista here retrieved this envelope from your mailbox after your birthday, that confirmed my suspicions.”

“Then, lo and behold, a wall post the morning Leslie died. It was the last wall post she made. Her official final Facebook act,” said Macie.

“Must make you feel pretty special, eh, List Chick One?” Krista sneered.

When my hand flew at Krista’s face, Macie stopped my wrist and said in a low voice, “Thought that was you.”

I dropped to my knees crying.

“We’re going to share equal portions of this thing, Beth. Just wanted you to know that the secret is about to be out. Krista’s going in tomorrow and telling them what we all know.”

“And what do you know?” I sobbed.

“That you were in love with Leslie. You turned on her because she didn’t want to be with you.”

“All you’ve got is a necklace and a letter,” I choked out. “That’s not enough to pin all of this on me. They’ll never buy that.”

“Maybe they won’t,” said Krista. “But your Mom’s Bible study sure will.”

“And my dad’s press secretary.” Macie smiled. “Besides, the thing the lawyers will believe is that you set up the fake Facebook account that we used to send Leslie a weekly message.”

Krista snickered. “Yeah, they’ll believe that because it’s true. In fact, pretty much all the bullying that’s gone on in the last year can be linked to an account set up by your IP address. We know the lawyers have already subpoenaed the records from Facebook. I’ll bet they’ve read every message you sent Leslie Gatlin in your account and the fake account, and that’ll be enough evidence to stop this conversation once and for all.”

“If I were you, Beth, I’d come clean,” said Macie flatly. “If
anyone should cop to Leslie Gatlin’s death, it’s you.”

“I can see it now,” said Krista. “‘Spurned High School Lesbian Drives Girl Crush to Suicide.’”

I stood up and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “You two will never get away with this,” I said softly.

Macie laughed. “Oh dear, sweet Beth. We already have.”

20. JAKE

The upstairs bathroom in our house separates my bedroom from Jillian’s. We’ve both got a door and a sink. She usually uses the tub, I use the shower. It basically blows having to share. It just always takes her forever to get ready, and I know that sounds like a totally sexist comment, but I just don’t understand how somebody can take two hours to get dressed for a football game. It’s also jacked when I don’t wanna see her or talk to her, like tonight.

But there she was.

Washing her face.

And now it was too late, ’cause she’d seen me and she had soap in her eyes and she was trying to rinse and find the hand towel and turn off the water all at once, and frankly, it was funny, but I didn’t feel much like laughing.

As I turned to go, it was like she sensed the action in my
legs, because in the split second it took for my brain to send my legs the signal, I heard her through the towel she was blotting across her face:

“Jake.
Wait!
”

And something in me froze. It was the desperation in her voice. The pleading in the word “wait.” It stopped me in the doorway that led to my room.

“Jake, you can’t just stop talking to me,” she said. She tossed the towel onto the sink counter. I stood there silently, watching her squirm.

Who are you?

I looked for some signal of recognition. Some flicker of the four-year-old girl with the pigtails who I used to protect when Kevin, Kathy, and Kyle, the triplets we lived next door to at the time, tried to coax her away from her Big Wheel. Kevin and Kyle would try to distract her, and then that little bitch Kathy would jump on her Big Wheel and cruise down the sidewalk. I’d take on both of Kathy’s brothers at once. I was ferocious when it came to Jillian.

I looked at her closely. Same reddish-brown hair; same light freckles across her nose, uncovered from the layer of powder that carefully blots them out each morning. The same eyes sparkled in the new halogen pin spots I’d helped Dad install after we moved in and remodeled the upstairs.

“See?” she said. “You’re doing it again. Just standing there pouting. You can’t even look me in the eye.”

That’s it.

It took two slo-mo steps to cross the bathroom. Jillian backed up into the doorjamb by her sink, her back pressed against the towel bar. I bent down so my nose was inches from hers, and stared directly into her eyes.

“Do you have something to say, Jillian?” I whispered. “’Cause I’m all ears.”

She stood there, shocked and scared, but not flinching. Her eyes flooded and she blinked but didn’t look away. Then she surprised me and threw her arms around me. I felt her bury her face in the space between my shoulder and my neck. I felt the heat of her tears on my shirt.

“Jake,” she choked into my neck, and then a single word: “Please.”

As I held her there in the bathroom and listened to her sob, something in me melted just enough to stay in the room.

After her sobs subsided, I pulled back from her and said, “Walk me through this, Jills, ’cause I just don’t understand it.”

“That’s just it, Jake,” she said. “There’s nothing to walk through. I keep feeling like you want me to explain how this isn’t my fault, but I shouldn’t have to.”

I let this sink in, and then said, “Still listening.”

“Jake.” She put both hands on my shoulders. “Not everybody fits in. Not everybody can be friends all the time. That doesn’t mean I wanted Leslie to die. None of us did. I know you’re sad, but, Jake, you know Leslie’s parents are a crapshoot
at best. She was probably more unstable than any of us realized. I mean, look at her dad—he’s a nutcase, and her mom is a drunk. Mental illness obviously runs in that family.”

“Jillian, this is not about anyone’s mental illness except Macie Merrick’s,” I said softly.

“Jesus, Jake.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Macie is not the problem here.”

The melted part of me became an explosion. “Goddammit, Jillian! How long are you going to keep saying that? You’re going to cling to that leaky plank like it’s a life raft no matter how huge the tsunami of evidence is, aren’t you?”

“Jake! Listen!” She was crying.

“No, Jillian. I’ve heard enough. I don’t know what fucking power Macie Merrick holds over all of you, but she never held it over me. Never. I am so sick of hearing you all make excuses for her bullshit. You, Brad, Katherine, everybody.”

Jillian slumped against the counter, then exploded back toward me. “Stop it. Stop it!”

“I can’t believe you,” I said. “Stop it? Stop telling you how horrible Macie is for you? If you were about to drink a glass of poison, I’d yell and scream and tell you exactly what was going on. I can’t wait to get you in front of those lawyers and lay out the shit you guys pulled with Leslie one day at a time for the last three years. I can’t wait to watch you squirm.”

“What are you talking about?” Jillian’s voice shook in a register so low I could barely hear her.

“Didn’t Mom tell you about our deposition?”

“She told me about
my
deposition,” she said. “When’s yours?”

“At the same time, Jillian. They want to question us together because we’re brother and sister.”

Jillian was finally quiet. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Beats me,” I said. “But if you so much as look like you might blink in a way that would mislead these lawyers, I will nail you to the wall.”

Jillian started sobbing again. “You don’t have any idea what it’s like for the girls in your life. You and Brad don’t have to play the game because you’re both good-looking and athletes. You’ve never been bad at anything in your life but Spanish sophomore year.”

“I’m done here,” I said.

“Well, I’m
not done
!” she yelled at me. “You think it’s just as easy for everybody else as it is for you. Well, it isn’t, and you don’t take two seconds to notice that. You’ve never had to defend yourself. I almost lost Macie last year when Katherine came along.” She held up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I am
this close
to being done with high school, and I am not letting things fall apart.”

Jillian was crying so hard when she fell to her hands and knees by the tub that I was afraid she might be sick. Something about her sitting there on the floor, crying, made a knot form
in my chest. I felt like I was being pulled in two. I thought about us talking to each other in words no one could understand so many years ago. All this time, it had been me and her. That felt like it was falling apart now, too. I stood there watching her cry for what seemed like a very long time. Then, slowly, I knelt down by her and put my hand on her back.

“Jillian?” I said softly. “What is it? Tell me how we can keep it from falling apart.”

“I want to tell you, so bad, Jake, but I . . . I just . . .”

“Jillian, this is your chance,” I whispered. “Tell me now. If it comes out in the deposition, it’ll be worse because it’ll be evidence. If you tell me now, we can fix it.”

“It’s . . .” Jillian searched my eyes and took a deep breath, then dropped her gaze to the floor. “It’s Brad.”

“What about Brad?” I asked.

“We’ve been . . . we’re . . .”

“What, Jillian?”

“Together.”

I sat down next to her, my back against the cabinets under the sink. “You mean . . . like . . . dating?”

“Something . . . ,” she said. “I mean, he’s dating Macie, but . . . somebody knows.”

“How?” I asked.

“They emailed pictures of us kissing to Brad.”

“Oh . . . wow.” I started to laugh. “Brad?” I giggled. “Bradley Wyst?”

“Shut up.” Jillian slapped me on the leg. I rolled over onto my back on the floor and laughed harder.

“Jake! It’s not funny!”

“Kinda,” I gasped. “Kinda it is funny.”

“What am I gonna do?” Jillian was beside herself. “If Macie finds out, I’m dead.”

“Jills, don’t be so dramatic,” I said. “Obviously one of the girls sent you those pics.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Because nobody else gives a damn,” I said.

“Well, Macie will give a damn.”

“Don’t you get it yet? She was probably the one who sent them to you.”

Jillian wiped her cheeks. I stood and offered her my hand. Slowly she placed hers in mine, and I pulled her up.

“Jills?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that all?” I asked. “Is that
everything
?”