Penitence (2010) (6 page)

somewhere? Lol no c u after school k I was relieved to hear from him. I stood, started down the stairs and felt a presence behind me that froze me in my tracks. I turned. Weston. Britt. Why did he keep showing up like some Alfred Hitchcock creep? Britt stood a couple of Ive-been-rejected feet behind him. Weston was inches away, staring down at me as I stood on the first stair from the second floor. Britts face was twisted like a wrung out towel, fresh tears beading down her cheeks. What do you want? I asked. He didnt say anything. Britt moved to his side, her sniffles annoying and pathetic. Weston didnt take his gaze from mine. I want to talk to you. Alone. But, WesBritt plead. Alone. His sharp tone silenced Britt. Her whimpering ceased. She flicked her teary gaze from Weston to me, then back to Weston, before she tiptoed past me. Youre leaving? I asked her. What was she, his puppet? She seemed as frightened of Weston as she was obsessed with him. She paused, waiting for any glimmer of encouragement from Weston, but nothing came. The moment was as if Weston and I were the only two people in the school. I didnt want to talk to him. Whatever he thought hed say to me, I didnt want to hear. Confronting my almost-attacker was not part of my healing agenda. Screw that. Britts footsteps finally vanished, leaving only the muffled sound of far off chatter, the occasional laugh, and slam of a locker. I swallowed a knot. Physically, the day had taken a toll on me. I held onto the railing so my knees wouldnt shake but it didnt help. What do you want? I bit out. Weston Larson, playboy, hottie, football playing woman-eater, looked at me with abstemious brown eyes. Hed looked at me before with the kind of quick glance that decides interest: yes or no. The kind of glance the male species passes out with cavalier masculinity. Now, his countenance held none of that hyped-up testosterone macho crap. This Weston was... different. I heard about the accident. And? Are you okay? Im standing here, arent I? He looked away, then locked on me again. He had a Christian Bale intensity about him. I wanted to know if you... He lowered his head. Can I ... I need to talk to you... Thats what youre doing. He struggled, writhing as if inside of him lay a monster trying to work itself out of his skin. I was uncomfortable for him, and fearful the accident made me unable to see dark spirits anymore. Were they riding his back at this very moment? This is hard for me. You think its easy for me? Ive been waiting for you, he said. A scratch scraped my spine. I almost turned and ran down the stairs, who cared if I broke my neck. My hand tightened around the rail. What for? To finish what you and Brady didnt get to the night of the party? Westons eyes widened. His skin paled, and the shadowed red blotches bloomed like zillions of invisible stains come to life. He swallowed, shoved his hands into the depths of his front pockets. How did you know about that? My blood, which had flowed in an even, easy stream since the accident, began its familiar simmering when I got frustrated or angry. I leaned close. Did you think I wouldnt know? I Did you think you could try to rape a girl and get away with it? His eyes grew huge, like Id just slapped him. You two are scum. Pervs. LOSERS. Adrenalin surged through my weak muscles. I turned and took the stairs slowly, hoping he would leave me alone and never talk to me again. I walked to the end of the hall and Britt grabbed my sleeve and pulled me aside, her face smeared with tears. What did he say? Nothing. I continued on to class. I needed to sit, close my eyes and nap. Britt followed me. I heard your voices. Come on, Zoe. Nothing, Britt. He fumbled. Big time. Why dont you forget him? Why did he want to talk to you alone? Like I said, I sighed. I dont know. Maybe he likes you. Britt slowed at my side. My heart pounded at the ridiculous suggestion. I kept walking. Couldnt look at Britt. Soon, she was back next to me. Silent. What do you say to that? she asked, pointedly. I glared at her. I say thats the stupidest suggestion Ive ever heard you make. Like you said, Im too intense for him. You know what? Im ending this conversation. Im exhausted. Not that youd notice. Youre only interested in you and Weston. I shouldnt have said that, and hated myself the second the words left my mouth. Im sorry. I didnt mean Is it too much to ask for a little support? You know how I feel about him. Ive been waiting to talk to him for weeks. I sighed. I know you love him. Sorry if it seems like his feelings have changed. Honestly? I dont know why they would. Like you said, you two had a lot going for you. Maybe hes had a change of heart since the... the... zit thing. Though I doubted Weston had been reborn, I hoped the idea would at least salve Britts heart. Her slow pace quickened. Yeah. Yeah, maybe thats it. Thats probably it, Zoe. We stopped outside of journalism. She hugged me. Are you okay? You look pale. Id just said I was tired. Ill be okay. I shouldnt have talked your ear off. Sorry. You want to hang later tonight? I can come over. And wed spend the evening talking about Weston. Not tonight. Im going home and crashing. Okay. I cant wait till youre all better. I need to do some serious partying! Bye hon. With another squeeze she was gone, disappearing in the crowded hall. The bell rang. I stole a moment to lean against the wall of lockers outside Mr. Brewers classroom. I closed my eyes, steadied my breath. When I opened my eyes, I caught a light-haired man dressed in head to toe black standing at the end of the hall. His hands were hidden in the front pockets of his suit slacks, his gaze pinned on me. I glanced around, thinking he must be looking at someone else, but the hall had emptied. When I faced his direction again, he was gone. What the? I must be seriously tired. I pressed my hands to my face, the cool flesh of my cheeks, the vision of the stranger causing me to shiver out a cold sweat. Must be a new, lost teacher. Production stopped when I walked into journalism. Like bees to the hive, my classmates buzzed around me with questions, hugs and handshakes. Even Mr. Brewer came over to offer a greeting. Chase hung back, his blue and white polo shirt and khakis stark in the sea of faded jeans and loose tee shirts surrounding him. He smiled, waved, and I crossed to my desk, decorated with papers and notes. I took in a deep breath of paper-scented air, mixing with the smell of different colognes and body splashes and read the get well soon letters my friends had left for me over the weeks of my absence. Then I got to work. Mr. Brewer wanted me to address driving under the influence; a victims first hand account. He kept telling me I didnt have to write the article, if the subject matter was hard for me. But I saw writing as an opportunity to close a chapter. I took the assignment. A true professional. Chases deep voice at my ear sent an unexpected tingle down my neck. He had one hand on the back of my chair, the other poised on my desk. Great op for you to give the spoiled, the clueless, the narcissistic population at Pleasant Grove High School a peek at a tough reality we all live with. Im not sure any of the above mentioned would even care. That is the travesty. He leaned close. As your editor-in-chief, I want you to know that I think you should take this op to share your gift of seeing guardians and spirits in the article. There is no way Im writing about that. Yeah, theyre not prepared for that kind of spiritual information. All they care about is whats happening this weekend. Do I sense a little bitterness, Chase? I lifted a brow at him. He shifted, stood upright. Im man enough to admit Ive been jealous. He yanked a chair over and sat, his posture tense. Who wouldnt spend their school years wanting to be a part of what looks like the greatest show on earth? Youve got all these beautiful people doing everything and anything they want and you sit home with a chess board. It stinks. Just once, Id like to go to one of those Weston Larson parties, to see what its all about. Then I could write about it. You sure all you want to do is write about it? I kept my brow cocked. He flushed. Theyre not all theyre cracked up to be. Look what happened to me I stopped. No one knew about Weston and Brady and the close call Id had with them after Westons party, except Matthias and Luke. My parents didnt even know. Chases editor-antenna went up. What? Something happened. What was it? You never did tell me the specifics. And Im not going to. Do yourself a favor and drop your fascination with the party circus. I faced my computer, indicating I was ready to get to work. Thats easy for you to say. Youve been part of it for years. Ive never gotten to go to the circus. But its just a circus, Chase. All show and no substance. So? Whatever happened to going for a good time? People go and get drunk, I snapped in his face. They lose control. Do things they wouldnt normally do, things theyd never do in broad daylight. Sometimes, they dont even remember what they do! Some of those people then get in a car and drive. Putting peoplelike me, like youat risk. In my opinion, the hard party circus should shut down. Permanently. Its not worth it. Great analogy. Chase nodded, enthusiastic. Had he ingested a kernel of what Id said? You should use that in your article. Ill let you get to work. He left. Was he so seduced by flashing colors, pretty faces and what appeared to be a free-for-all of fun, that he couldnt see beyond the common sense-blinding tent with its colorful people coming in and out of the party? I put my fingers on the computer keys, stared at the blank doc on the screen and my mind went dead. I closed my eyes. All I pictured was Weston in the hall, the way hed stared at me, like I was the monster instead of him. A shiver of fear trembled down my spine. I started typing: Imagine your body lying somewhere. Somewhere you didnt put yourself. Somewhere you would never want to be. But there you are. Helpless. Unable to defend yourself. Vulnerable. Victim. I swallowed a hard knot. My hands shook. You take a drink from someone you think is a friend and minutes later, your body is not your own. You feel control drain away like sand falling from your fingertips. You cant hold onto it. Its gone. And so are you. While youre gone, you have no idea whats being done to you. No idea. Imagine the worst. Think of it. Being naked. Opened. Touched. Tasted. Beaten. Scarred. Used. Whatever your most frightening thought is, think it. Atrocities inflicted and youre there. But youre not. Its wrong. Abusing someone is wrong. And abusers should be punished. Pay the price. Again I closed my eyes. What had Matthias seen? Id still had my clothes on when Id awakened in that moldy, dark motel room. My shirt had been ripped. Had that been the moment, the instant when Matthias had had enough? The point of impact? Exactly how had he stopped Brady and Weston? Had they seen him? Had Matthias made the room quake? When Id asked, Matthias had only said hed taken care of it. Matthias? Where are you? I stared at my experience on the screen. Black and white. Admittance. Revelation. I pressed the backspace button. Seven Maybe it was the complete exhaustion from school, Britt, Weston, or reliving the memory of Westons party while writing it down, but when my body hit my bed later that afternoon, I didnt wake up until the next morning. I lay in my comforting sheets and blankets, glad it was a Saturday. No school. I couldnt face the curious faces, the smiles ofpity? Curiosity? I was certain some of the less popular population of Pleasant Grove High School had passed me in the halls with a one-of-the-partiers-finally-got-what-wascoming-to-them look. As if I brought that wasp-colored truck with its drug-induced driver on myself. I most definitely didnt want to see Weston again. I wrapped my arms around my pillow and hugged. Five weeks and one day had passed since Id seen Matthias. Five weeks, one day and eight hours. I closed my eyes. The faint scent of pancakesand the very human need to eathad me rising. Ive got to move on. Be happy. Live. I smirked. The notion was pretty funny, actually. I stood looking at my reflection in the mirror and laughed. Id gone back to Dr. Semolitis, had all of the remaining bandages removed and could shower now. Full immersion in water was underrated when it came to bathing, I decided. The purple lines in my breast still caused my stomach to crimp, so I avoided looking at them and dressed in flannel plaid pants and a soft, oversized sweatshirt. I stuck my hair up in a claw, and headed downstairs for some of Moms wheat pancakes. One of my favorite breakfasts. I smiled. She was making them just for me. * * * Saturday home alone. I didnt know what to do with myself. My nap went well, reviving me a little. No dreams of Matthias. Now semi-addicted to Lifetimes cheesy movies, I planted myself on the couch with a bag of Doritos and settled in for another drama, this one about crazy people stuck on an island sanctuary. I surprised Mom and made a batch of Aunt Janiss Sunset Rolls. The cinnamon and vanilla scented the house like a bakery. I couldnt wait for Mom to see them. Aunt Janis, youd be proud, I thought, smiling at my golden-brown, white-iced effort. Mom, Dad, Luke and Abria had been gone for a couple of hours. I used to enjoy the aloneness when everyone was gone. Even when Id been assigned to baby-sit Abria while Mom held an open house, it was as good as being alone. Id plunk Abria down in front of one of her favorite DVDs and do my own thing. I cringed now, thinking about how neglectful, thoughtless and selfish Id been. I couldnt lie to myself and say Id spend every waking hour doing something constructive with Abria now, if given the chance. That was impossible. Being that on would be like performing on Broadway twentyfour-seven, the energy needed to engage her enormous. But I could pay more attention to her. Be less impatient. Love her better. I thought about how wonderful her life was: a safe, content existence surrounded by people who loved her and took care of her. Perfect. The movie was in full swing but I hadnt a clue about the storyline, distracted as I was. Then the doorbell rang. I hadnt heard from Britt, but she was probably still asleep at one oclock in the afternoon. I set aside my Doritos and walked to the front door. I peered through the sidelight window. Weston. Behind him, the sky was gray, evergreens speared into Heaven, brilliant green in contrast to the stormy skies. My heart banged violently against my ribs. No way was I opening the door. But he saw me. No pretending I wasnt home. Hand shaking, I reached for the knob, then fear grabbed my knees so bad that I didnt dare open the door. I moved into his view and his eyes locked on mine through the panes of glass. His brown eyes were wide. Beneath his jeans and blue long sleeved tee-shirt, his posture