October Breezes (16 page)

I imagined reporting this and the horrible things they'd have to do to get evidence. I shuddered. Besides, I knew wel enough how much money Tyler’s family had—enough to make me wish I’d never been born. “No--don’t.” My voice trembled, and tears burned my eyes. “Please don’t. I just want to go home.”

“You’re hurt, Skye.” He nodded toward my ribs.

“Judging by the way you move and the pain you’re in, you’ve got at least a few fractured ribs. Maybe broken ones. You should go to a doctor.”

“No. I’l go home. Just forget you saw me.”

He stepped in front of me. “Damn it, Skye, if you won’t go to the hospital and you won’t cal your mom, at least let me drive you home. It’s late, and you shouldn’t be walking by yourself.”

My vision blurred again, and I touched my head where a savage pain blossomed. When I puled my hand away and looked at it, I saw blood slick my fingers.

“Jesus,” Sorenson said. “You’re bleeding.” Then he saw me shivering. “And cold.” He started to take off his letter jacket.

“Please don’t."
I already wore one of those tonight ,
I thought. The blood looked so dark.
It’s nothing,
I tried to tel myself. “I’l be fine. I just need to get home.”

“Come on.” He opened the passenger door. He saw my hesitation. “I know something bad went down at Tyler’s, Skye. As I said, he's shooting off his mouth right now to Kelin and whoever else wil listen. Kelin's going to be looking for you."

I almost fel. "Oh, God, no."

Sorenson shook his head. "Look, Skye, Kelin is an idiot if he believes Tyler, and he wil. He's drunk. You need to get out of here, and I'm a safe way to get you home. If you don’t want to go to the police, it’s none of my business, but don’t lump me in with Tyler, okay? Just because we play on the same team doesn’t mean we’re alike.”

“Okay,” I said, shivering harder as the wind blew through me. I forced myself into the car. As I rested my head against the seat, nausea assaulted me. “I feel sick,” I whispered.

Sorenson got in and took one look at my pale face. “Put your head between your knees. It might help.” So I did. After a few moments, I felt better, and the heater's warm air took away the chil.

Finaly, I sat up without thinking I was going to vomit; there was nothing left to come up. “Thanks.”

“For what? Doing the right thing?” He started driving.

“You don’t want your mom to know, I take it?”

“No.” I folded my arms across my stomach. “She’d kil me.”

“We need to stop at Burger King so you can clean up.

There's blood in your hair, and your make-up looks like you’ve been swimming.”

I cringed. “Okay.”

In silence, he drove me to the closest Burger King and folowed me inside where a few people waited. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I strode toward the bathroom. As soon as I glimpsed my reflection, al color drained from my cheeks. To say that my hair appeared wild would’ve been the understatement of the year. Franticaly I tried to wet down my bangs and tame some of the fly-away layers into submission so that instead of standing on end they framed my face. While I could deal with re-styling my hair, the mess my make-up had become was another story. Al my compacts and lip color had been left in my purse in Kelin’s car. The only thing I could do was wash my face and hope my mom didn’t look too closely at me.

Then I held my hair, searching for signs of blood, but I didn’t see any. I tried to feel the surface layer for any stiffness, but none seemed to be on top where Mom might see it. Stil, the wound bled a bit from underneath, and I hoped like crazy it would stop.

The last thing I wanted to do was go to the hospital for a head wound I couldn’t explain.

Once I’d seen to my hair and face, I focused on my clothes, grateful nothing appeared ripped or dirty. Then again, my vision stil appeared blurry and distorted. Was that from the alcohol or the head wound? How would I know? “This is as good as it gets,” I whispered, staring into the haunted face which had become my own. I chewed my lip and tried not to see the person I’d become, the person who would never be free of these memories.

Ever.

Looking at my reflection, I realized the locket was gone.

Franticaly, I clutched the skin where the chain had touched, and then the world blurred as I broke down, sinking to my knees. Each sob ached in my ribs, but I couldn't stop crying, imagining that locket amid the dead grass. Come spring, the yard worker's mower would shred it just like our friendship had been shredded. I wiped my face and forced myself to stop crying. Devin had been right. I’d been stupid, and Tyler had made me pay for lying to Mom and treating Devin so unkindly.

I wished Devin were with me as I realized too late how many times he’d stood between me and the loneliness, no matter how hard I pushed him. It had only been when he realized he couldn’t protect me from myself that he’d refused to watch my own destruction.

Now he had a new girlfriend, and the last thing he needed was the train-wreck my life had become. I brushed them away. No matter how much I regretted this decision, I could never erase it.

I hurried out of the bathroom, and Sorenson sat in a booth, his red hair bright in the florescent lighting. He held two cups of cocoa and offered one to me. “Here’s your get-warm-quick ticket.”

“Thanks.”

We walked to the car. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He puled out his keys and unlocked the passenger door.

I stopped walking and took a sip. “I’ve had you in a class, Rick.” His name sounded like a question because it was. I wished the fog blanketing my mind would dissipate so I could remember better.

“Jimmy, actualy.” He also took a sip. “Rick is my older brother.”

I blushed, embarrassed I couldn’t remember his name.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, licking my lips as I got into the car.

He slid behind the wheel. “Yeah, I didn’t drink anything alcoholic. You, on the other hand, had enough punch to last a month.”

“I thought it was safe to drink.”

“You thought wrong.” He gritted his teeth and started the car.

I leaned back. “I know. My head is pounding.” I swalowed hard. "How did you know about the punch?"

"It's spiked at most parties." He set his cup in the holder between seats. "But I think Tyler put extra in yours."

I stared at the cup. "Did Kelin know about the punch?"

He shrugged. "He never drinks punch, Skye." He looked straight ahead. "Maybe he did, and maybe he didn't. It realy doesn't matter, does it?"

Shaking my head, I said, “No, I guess it doesn't. So how else do I know you? There's something else I'm missing.”

“We attended the same elementary school. One day in PE

we were playing tag footbal in fifth grade. I intercepted a bal meant for you. You got mad and tackled me.”

I opened my eyes, trying to compare that memory with the person beside me. “That was
you
?”

He shrugged. “A much shorter, geekier version.” He turned out of the parking lot. “Where am I headed?”

I gave him directions, and we lapsed into silence. I kept replaying the moment Tyler took me outside, and even closing my eyes didn't stop the movie replaying in my head.

“You could go to the police.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“No.” A huge lump grew in my throat, making it hard to swalow. I took a sip. “I can’t.” More tears. I stared out the window, trying to blink them away.

“I know Tyler’s tricks. I saw him take you outside. Okay so I didn’t see him attack you. But there’s a huge difference between the person who entered that party and the one who’s here.

I could tel the police.”

He turned onto my street. “It’s not just Tyler at fault. I lied to my mom about this party. I lied to myself, saying I could handle it. I never should have been there. This wouldn't have happened.”

Jimmy puled over, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Don’t you dare take the blame.

You aren’t the first, Skye, and you won’t be the last. It’s not your fault. Tyler did this.”

I cradled my head, wishing the pain would stop. “I know you want to help, but I just want to forget it happened.”

“I don’t know that it’s possible, but al right.” He reached toward the glove box and puled out a rol of some kind of tape.

“What’s that?”

“Medical tape,” he replied. “You’re going to need it with those ribs.” He frowned at my midsection. “Does it hurt in the front or back or both?”

Swalowing hard, I took a deep breath to be sure and then wince. “Front.”

Nodding, he said, “good. At least that way you’l be able to tape them yourself.”

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s al right. I do, thanks to being tackled quite a bit.

I’l show you.” He puled out a strip and used his pocket knife to cut it and then did the same to a second piece. Unbuttoning his shirt, he demonstrated how to place the strips verticaly on his abdomen.

“The tape strips run paralel to each other. They help minimize the movement of the ribs.” He looked up at me, frowning in concern.

“You think you got it?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He offered me the tape. “If they don’t seem to be getting any better, you’l have to go to a doctor, Skye.” He quickly buttoned his shirt. Jimmy started driving again. Moments later, he stopped before my house. The front door was open, and the porch light blazed. I looked at the clock glowing green as it registered 1:45. Not only did mom's car sit in the driveway, but Warren's Stealth was parked beside it; a layer of snow on hers and his without suggested he hadn't been here long. She must have freaked out and caled him when I broke curfew.

Oh, God. I was so dead.

` “Thanks for the ride,” I said quietly. “I couldn’t have made it without you.”

“You’re welcome. Just keep me in mind if you need something. Contrary to popular belief, not al jocks stick together.”

“Thank you.” I slowly closed the car door and headed inside.

I tried to open the door quietly, hoping Mom had falen asleep. I should have known better. No sooner had I closed the door than I saw her stil wearing the jeans and sweater from earlier.

“Where have you been?” Mom stopped pacing mid-stride.

“Do you know what time it is?” She thrust her hands to her hips.

Warren muted the television and also stood.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said quietly. “Time got away.” I peered at the floor, afraid that if our gazes connected, she'd see the secrets I fought to keep.

“You’re sorry?” She darted in front of me. “I trust you enough to give you an extra hour, and this is what happens?”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated and tried to tur n away, but she grabbed my arm, forcing me to face her.

“You’re sorry? I’ve been worried out of my head, yet you walk through that door like nothing's happened.”

“I’m sorry.” When once I'd have puled away and snapped, this time I chewed my lip, praying the tears would go away. Right then I started shaking. I felt nauseated, tired, and frightened—and I had to keep it al inside.

“You al right?” Warren stood and walked toward us as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Just tired.”

“You don’t look fine.” He stepped toward my mother who gripped my arm. Smiling, he tried to ease the stress and anger by rubbing her back. “Let's cal it a night and talk in the morning. By then we'l al be calmer--”

"I don't want to be calmer!" Mom spat.

Warren swalowed hard. "You're too upset, Helen.

Nothing good can come from it."

“No,” Mom puled away and glared at Warren. For al the times I’d wished conflict between them, I didn’t want it to be over me. Yes, I'd wanted her to see how crazy it was to love him because he couldn’t live up to that love, but he was supposed to make the mistake, not me. I was causing them to fight. “We won’t wait. It wil be now.”

“Helen,” Warren said. “Calm down.”

Mom glared. “Calm down?" Her voice rose shrily.

"Calm down! Give me one reason I should be calm when my only daughter stayed God-knows-where until 1:30 in the morning. Don’t you defend her.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He stepped back, placing his hands in his pockets.

“Mom, I’m sorry," I gushed, trying to make her stop yeling at Warren. "I screwed up. You have the right to be angry at me.”

My vision kept blurring, even though I tried to blink away the haze.

"It's al my fault."

“Look at me, Skye.” Mom demanded.

I refused, knowing if she saw my eyes, she'd realize I was drunk. I was a pathetic liar.

“Look at me!” she snapped, leaning closer.

“I’m realy tired,” I said. “Can’t I go to bed?”

“No! You wil look at me!” Mom grabbed my chin, and my breath hit her. “You’re drunk!” Her fingers slowly released me , and I stepped back, staring at her pale face, her mouth stil open as though her words hung on invisible strings. “You never went to eat.” She took another step back and ran into Warren. Sensing she felt unbalanced, Warren grasped her elbow, steadying her. She jerked from him, scarlet coloring her cheeks. “Where did you go?

What was so important you had to lie?” Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“Nothing." I chewed my lip. That painful expression had punished me worse than if she'd slapped my cheek. I could handle anger, but disappointment left me raw and broken. I shivered.

She shook her head. “You lied and got drunk, and it’s nothing?" She pointed at me. "Wrong. Anytime someone serves my sixteen-year-old daughter booze, it’s something huge, not to mention ilegal. So let’s talk, shal we?” She folded her arms across her chest and waited while I envisioned my mother complaining to the principal and the police. Then I saw al the girls gossiping again, not about Tyler but about me and my mother.

Why didn’t Tyler throw me against the ground hard
enough to
crack my skull? Why?

“I made a mistake.” I kept seeing Tyler's leering face.

Anger mingled with Mom’s tears as she realized we’d had reached an impasse—she wanted names, and I refused to give them.

“Helen,” Warren said, “Please let it go for tonight. You 're angry, and it’s only going to make things worse.”