Out of My Mind (22 page)

“It just walked into your garage?”

“I drink Wicked. Lots of kids do.”

“And the shirt?”

“Anyone can get a PE shirt and put a name on it.”

“The bomb-making instructions were printed out in the art room, your favorite spot,” Ryan said.

Greg did a good job of framing him.

J.D. collapsed in the chair. “This isn’t my stuff.”

Detective Ryan shifted behind his desk. “So you’re saying you’ve been framed? Pratt, this is real life, not some cop show.”

“Whatever.”

“I
want
to believe you, J.D.”

J.D. snapped his attention to the Detective.

“I’m giving you a chance,” Detective Ryan said. “Once you’re booked at Youth Services, it’s out of my hands. There’s a lot of damning evidence here, found in your garage. I can’t ignore that. But if you’re telling me someone set you up—”

“He did.”

“Who?”

“Greg Hoffman.”

“The football star?” he said, disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, see?” J.D. scoffed. “You don’t believe me. Go ahead and lock me up. I’m screwed.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re smarter than that.”

J.D. eyed the detective. Was he playing some kind of head game with J.D.?

“Why would he want to frame you?” Detective Ryan asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Ryan leaned back in his chair and tapped a pen on the desk. “Catherine Westfield?”

“Yep.”

“This is all about a girl?”

J.D. nodded.

“There’s more to it,” Ryan said.

J.D. couldn’t say too much. He wouldn’t put Cat at risk.

“It’s not my stuff but I know he’s planning to torch something.”

“Because of Catherine Westfield?”

“He pinned it on me because of Catherine, to get me out of her life. I think he’s going to torch the art room to get back at Mr. Cooper.”

“The art teacher?”

“Coop got him suspended from three football games.”

“You’re telling me he’d torch the school over missed football games?”

“Not the whole school, probably just the art room, I don’t know.”

“Fire travels, son, it doesn’t stop at the door of the art room.”

“Yeah, tell that to dickhead.”

“How do you know this? You and Hoffman hate each other.”

“I just know.”

“I think you know more than you’re telling me.”

J.D. stared at the bottle. There was nothing more to say, not if he wanted to protect Cat.

“Fine. Maybe a few hours in lock-up will change your mind. If not, I’ll take you downtown.” Detective Ryan led him into the cell area.

J.D. went to the metal bench and sat down.

At least everyone was safe while J.D was locked up. Greg wanted J.D. to be blamed for the bombing, so as long as J.D. was in custody Greg wouldn’t set the school on fire. Cooper and the kids at school were safe. Cat was safe from the world ripping her apart for being friends with J.D.

If you think you’re just friends you’re delusional
.

Damn, it couldn’t be more. Another impossible situation, another person he was putting at risk.

“Billy,” he whispered. He couldn’t protect him if J.D. was sent to jail. Resigned, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. The kid would have to learn to use his brains instead of his temper to manage the old man.

J.D. was exhausted from keeping up his pretense, protecting his little brother, and beating himself up for driving his mother away.

And now J.D. had put Catherine in the line of fire. What the hell was he thinking getting involved with her?

Kissing her?

The door clicked open and he looked up. Catherine stood there in a long-sleeved shirt, torn jeans and grey beanie. She looked adorable.

“Maybe you can get through to him,” Detective Ryan said from behind her, and shut the door.

“Hey, you,” she said with concern in her voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“That’s a dumb question.”

“Go home.”

“Stop being a jerk.”

He looked away. Had to. Stared at the speckled vinyl flooring. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” She kneeled and brought his hand to her lips.

“Cat, don’t.” He wanted to pull away, but couldn’t.

“You need to tell me how I can help.”

“You can’t. I belong here.”

“Shut up.” She took off her sunglasses. “We both know what happened.”

“We can’t prove it. As long as I’m in here, Greg won’t set anything on fire.”

“So you’re going to sacrifice yourself? Unacceptable. I need you out there with me.”

“No, you don’t. You haven’t lost your spot on the food chain. You’ve got your cheerleader friends and guys are probably lining up behind Greg in the hopes he’ll screw up.”

“Shut up.”

“Why? It’s the truth. You and me,” he hesitated. “We’re a train wreck. Your parents would lock you up and your dad would kill me and he’d end up in jail. All because I was driving too fast and you were in the street and—”

“Stop!” Her eyes watered.

J.D. couldn’t stand it. He wrenched his hand from hers and paced to the wall. “Get out of here. Go home.”

Don’t turn around. Don’t do it.

A few seconds passed. He didn’t hear the door open or close. He couldn’t stand being in the same room with her and not touch her, hold her.

This had to stop.

“I said—“ He turned and stopped short.

With a glazed look in her eyes, she clung to the metal bench with white-knuckled fingers.

She was having another HULU.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, rushing to her and taking her hand. “Catherine, wake up. Come on, snap out of it.”

But she was gone, lost in that hellish place, and it was his fault. Again.

“Please, come back.” He pulled her against his chest and rocked back and forth. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but it felt like forever. She usually snapped out of it in minutes.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. “Cat, please. Come back to me.”

With a gasp, she pushed against his chest, leaned back and looked at him with disbelief in her eyes.

“You…you weren’t even driving the car?”

Damn it to hell.

“Cat—”

“I saw you tell your brother…” she said, searching his eyes.

J.D stared at the door, wishing Detective Ryan would come and take her away.

“You told him you’d take the blame for the accident.” She ripped her hand from his and scooted away. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

“I had to protect my brother.”

“And what? You didn’t think you could trust me with the truth? I thought, I thought you were the one guy who’s always been honest with me. But now…” Her eyes widened. “Wait a second…oh my God. You’ve been using me.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Why, because you care about me?” She stood and slipped on her sunglasses. “Wow, so this was all some kind of manipulation.” She went to the door.

“Cat, wait,” he pleaded. “He’s my little brother. What was I supposed to do?”

She turned to him. “You could have trusted me.”

“You hated me.”

“Past tense. Now, unfortunately, I love you.”

It felt like someone slugged him in the chest. “What?” he hushed.

“My mistake. I didn’t know you were one of those guys who used manipulation to control people. You’re just like Greg. How could I be so stupid? Oh right, I remember.” She smacked the heel of her palm to her forehead. “I’m broken brain girl.”

Shaking her head, she pounded on the door to be let out.

“Cat, don’t go. I…I love you, too.”

She burst out laughing, a vile, bitter sound that broke his heart.

“You think I’m going to fall for that?” she said. “You really must think I’m stupid.”

At that moment J.D. knew any chance he had with her had died when she discovered the truth about the accident.

“Please…don’t tell anyone about Billy,” he said.

She glared at him, a tear trailing down her cheek. “You should have told me the truth.”

Detective Ryan opened the door and she bolted out of there, and out of his life.

* * *

I’m walking home from the police station when Taylor and the girls pull up to the curb.

“Hey, girlfriend. Want a ride?” Andrea calls out.

“No thanks. I need the walk. Not getting my exercise in at Cheer.”

“Where were you today? Someone said you went to see J.D. Pratt,” Clarisse says out the back window.

They wait for details. They’re bored and looking for entertainment in the form of gossip.

“Detective Ryan wanted a statement,” I lie. Detective Ryan tried to ask me questions, but I was so upset I couldn’t even speak to him.

Clarisse glances at Taylor, who nods. Then Clarisse asks, “Were you hiding in the art room with J.D. Pratt when he got arrested?”

They stare at me, curiosity killing them.

“He was giving me notes.” I’m pissed and don’t want to explain myself to anyone, especially these girls.

Especially since my heart is crushed and bleeding inside my chest.

“Seven pick up tomorrow?” Taylor calls out.

“Sounds good.”

Giggling, they take off and nearly hit a parked car down the street. These are my friends? No, they’re classmates, nothing more.

And J.D. is…

A manipulative jerk.

Who is an amazing kisser, and great at making me feel safe and grounded.

Too bad it was all a lie.

I try not to beat myself up, but I’m losing that battle. The girl with the broken brain gets sucked in, trusts the wrong guy, and falls in love.

With the wrong guy.

I replay the painful HULU in my mind: J.D. telling Billy to get on the skateboard and get the hell outta there, that J.D. would take the blame for the accident.

Yet he couldn’t tell me the truth, even when we became close? Of course not, his goal was saving his brother’s ass. That’s all he cared about.

What better way to protect Billy than to make me fall for J.D.? He could control me that way.

J.D., you bastard
.

As I head down Lakeview Road, a car peels around the corner and jumps the curb. Instinct makes me dive across the sidewalk into a rhododendron bush. The car speeds away, as if the driver could care less that I’d almost been killed…again.

I scramble to my feet, determined to get a license plate number.

But I don’t have to. I know that car.

J.D.’s dad’s car.

“You sonofabitch!” I’m crazed. Was it Billy behind the wheel again, driving like a maniac? I pull out my cell phone and call 9-1-1.

I have to stop him from hurting anyone else.

“9-1-1 Emergency.”

“He tried to hit me with the car,” I blurt out.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Catherine Westfield. A dark blue sedan nearly hit me on Lakeview Road.”

“Did you get a plate number?”

“No.”

“Did you see which way it was going?”

“I think he turned south on 228
th
.”

Anger rushes through me as I pass J.D.’s house. To think just yesterday I loved looking out my window to imagine J.D. in his room drawing or listening to his iPod. Now all I feel is heartbreak. All I see is someone cowering beneath the cedar tree on the side of the house.

“Can you tell me anything else about the car?” the operator asks.

“No,” I whisper and pocket my cell phone.

As I get closer to J.D.’s house, I see his brother Billy, the boy responsible for my accident. I should hate him.

I instinctively head in his direction. I don’t know why. My chest tightens at the sight of him as I get closer. Head down, he’s cradling his arm against his stomach and rocking slightly. I think he’s crying.

“Billy?”

He snaps his head up and points a knife at me with a trembling hand.

“It’s just me.” I put up my hands.

“Get out of here.” Tears dampen his cheeks and blood drips from his nose.

I take a step closer. His shirtsleeve is torn and blood smears his upper arm. His other arm is in a cast, held protectively against his stomach.

“Let me help,” I offer.

“Like you helped J.D.?” he says. “He’s in jail because of you.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“The whole school knows you sent him there.”

“It’s not my fault.” Although I guess indirectly it is.

I study Billy and realize this, too, is indirectly my fault.

“What happened?” I sit down beside him, but not too close. I’m not afraid he’ll hurt me, but I don’t want to scare him off. He needs help and I’m guessing the only one he trusts is his big brother.

“Nothing happened. Leave me alone.”

“Can I see?”

“Why?”

“I really do want to help.” I offer a comforting smile.

With a shaky hand he slips the knife into his pocket. I edge forward and peel the shirt away from his arm. There’s a two-inch gash across his skin. It’s not deep, but it’s bleeding pretty good.

“How did this happen?” I ask.

“How do you think?”

“Do you have a First Aid kit inside?”

“Yeah, but don’t go in there.”

“If you’re worried about your dad, he’s gone.”

Billy swallows hard. “You sure?”

“Yep. He almost ran me down. First Aid stuff is…?”

“J.D. keeps it in the upstairs john.”

“Stay here.” I sprint into the back of the house and up the stairs. I pass J.D.’s room on the way to the bathroom and I glance inside.

My breath catches at the sight of a sketch pinned above the bed. It’s a doe with the same eyes as the one at school. I should have guessed he was the artist.

Refocusing, I find a few washcloths and rinse them in warm water. I grab the First Aid kit and rush downstairs.

I cast a quick glance at surrounding houses to make sure no one’s watching. If someone sees me helping Billy and narcs to my parents, well, I’d hate to think what kind of prison time that would carry. My parents would lock me up for sure.

I approach Billy, who’s buried his head in his folded arms.

“Take your shirt off,” I say.

Billy looks up at me, his bloodshot, green eyes hopeless and lost. “Why are you doing this?”