Stronger than You Know (9 page)

SIXTEEN

I have decided I now love the park

I'm at the park near our house, and I'm alone, sitting crisscross applesauce on the grass. I love it. If I need something or feel a panic attack coming on or anything, I have my phone. It makes me feel so much more independent than I ever have. And the open space isn't as uncomfortable as it used to be either, which is sort of perfect because I haven't seen the sun in over a month.

After several nights of horrible dreams and very little sleep, the park and the warmth should help settle my mind.

Flashes of Richard have been haunting me since the letter, making me wish again that I could erase memories. I pull in a deep breath wanting to soak up the warm day instead of reliving my past.

“Hey, neighbor.”

Justin. I can so do this. I mean, we rode in a car together and talked over coffee and hot chocolate and we walk together …
sometimes
. “Hey, neighbor,” I say back. Maybe he'll distract me from things I don't want to think about.

“Is the grass wet?”

“Yep, but my coat is long.” I pat my hands on my hips to show the coat covers pretty well. It's Aunt Nicole's raincoat, so it's a little big, but at least I'm warm and dry.

“Oh well.” He shrugs and pats his thighs. His coat is not long. “Can I sit?”

I tap my chin as if trying to decide.

“Oh, come
on
.” He laughs.

“Yes, you can sit.” I'm smiling and I didn't even have to think about smiling. It's like when Justin's around, there isn't room for thoughts outside of what we're doing together.

“Thank you.” He's next to me, almost too close, but there are no walls out here, and I can stand up and walk away if I want to.

“You have a blond stripe in your hair,” I say. Someone did the bleaching low, so the stripe only shows sometimes.

“Always had it.”

I narrow my eyes. “It looks bleached.”

“I swear it's always been there. The longer my hair is, the more you can see the blond.” He bends his head down so I can look more closely.

“I like your hair long.” Without thinking I touch the lighter strands. I wouldn't cut it any other way.

“Thanks.” His eyes meet mine.

I jerk my hand back. I can't believe I just touched his hair like that.

“So, what are you up to?” he asks.

“Enjoying the sun.”

“Me too.”

“I got a phone.” I slide it out of my pocket to show him. “Like more than a week ago. I keep forgetting I have it.”

“Cool, give me your number and I can call you sometime. Or send you a text or something.” He pulls out his cell.

Oh no. “I don't remember my number.” How do I not know this?

“Can I see?” He reaches his hand toward me and I give the phone to him.

He pushes a few buttons on my phone and then a few buttons on his phone. “There. You can scroll down and hit the Call button when you get to my name. Have you never had a phone before?”

I try to play cool. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you're looking at this thing like it'll bite you.” He chuckles as he shoves his phone back into his jeans pocket. I like how he dresses outside of school. Snug jeans, drawn-on shoes, white T-shirt, and hoodie coat. Everything looks soft. I'm probably staring.

Oh. We were talking. “I've never had a phone. I”—partial truth, I can do it—“I didn't get out much when I lived with my mom. Now I'm with my aunt and uncle and …” What do I say?

“And things are different,” he finishes for me.

“Yeah.”
Like opposite
. I wait for him to ask more about my mom, but he doesn't.

“So, my sister is about to have a baby and she likes to sing. I play for her when she does. Anyway, we're at the Hole next Friday night. You should come.”

The Hole is a bakery and venue for a lot of great local music.
And
it's just up the street. I'm conflicted because going could be cool or disastrous. I'm not sure if it would be worth the risk.

“What do you play?”

“The guitar.” He cocks a brow, throwing me a playful smile. “I thought everyone knew that.”

“I didn't.” I don't know anybody, so I don't know anything about anybody.

“That's crazy.” He laughs. “That's like my power play, you know. The thing girls like about me.”

I almost laugh. “I didn't know. So I guess that's not what I like about you.”

“Hmm.” His eyes are so intense, but I can't bring myself to look away. “So, what do you like about me?”

That's easy. “That you let me be quiet. I like the way you talk all relaxed and how you don't mind the weird things I do.” Once the words are out I realize how personal it might all be. “I'm sorry, I …”
I don't know how to talk to people. I don't know what I should say and when I should keep quiet
. Maybe I've just crossed a line or something.

“No. That's awesome. I don't think you do weird things. I like that you're not afraid to ask to have your window down even when it's raining outside.” His eyes widen, but he's smiling really big so I know he's teasing.

The teasing makes my weirdness feel okay. But now we're both quiet and the silence stretches and I don't know what to say or what he might expect from me. How long has it been? Should I say something? Is it my turn and I messed up? “I should head back home.”

“Was that silence awkward for you?” Justin asks. “'Cause I don't mind. I mean, I don't mind just hanging out with someone, even if we're quiet.” He doesn't move.

“Okay.”

Justin doesn't mind the quiet, which takes away all the tension that comes with trying to find the right things to say. I lean back on my hands and let my eyes drift around the park. There are families and people with dogs and couples and joggers. So many people out enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. I look up at the blue sky and the small wisps of clouds. California was always too hot. Our trailer was never cool enough. My eyes slide closed and the sun warms my face, my neck …

“You're very pretty.”

I jerk my head up, fear prickling my thoughts and then down my spine, making me shiver. Why does that make me uncomfortable?

“Sorry,” Justin says. “I didn't mean to interrupt you. I said I don't mind silence, and then I just spoke when I should have kept my mouth shut. But you are … pretty. Your shiny hair and pale freckles.”

His words and tone and closeness suddenly are too much. Way too much. Being called pretty rakes feelings up my spine and leaves me with memories of experiences that I never want to know again.

“I should go.” I stand. My breathing is still okay, but I'm noticing it now, the simple act of taking a breath. That means it's not coming normally.

“I made you uncomfortable again, huh? 'Cause I can't just shut up?” Justin's standing now too, and he's rubbing his hands on his pants. It makes him look nervous. “I'm the ADD kid, always have been. You'll get used to it.” His voice is all breathless and his body looks tense. “If you don't get sick of me.”

“Are you nervous?” I ask. Do other people get nervous?

He chuckles again. “Yeah. Being nervous isn't a normal thing for me. Maybe I could walk you home?”

“Okay.” That seems harmless enough. And if he's nervous, I should feel safer. Like if he's more uncomfortable than me, that's a good thing.

I slide my hands into my coat pockets, and we walk through the park without saying anything. I like having him next to me. We're not touching but we're close, and I still get to people watch. There are a few skateboarders flipping their boards underneath their feet as they move. There's a couple about our age, but they can't keep their hands off each other. I look away from them. No way I could be with someone like that. I tilt my face toward the sky again. The heat from the sun is so perfect after all the rain.

“You know how I said I don't mind silence?” Justin asks.

“Yeah.” I keep my gaze on the clouds.

“You totally love it, don't you?”

My eyes catch his. “I do.” But I also like sharing the quiet with someone, I'm just not sure if that's something I should share.

“That's cool, but I'd still like to learn more about you, you know? Where you're from. What you like to do. You know, normal stuff.” He puts his hands in his pockets.

I don't have any normal stuff. “I'm from California and just getting used to how wet it is here. Tell me about you.”

“Well, it's just me and my dad. My parents got divorced a few years ago. Mom and I talk but not a lot. My big sister and her husband live not too far from here. She's going to have a baby, like, next month, so I'm about to be an uncle. Her husband owns the Hole. We used to play there even before they got together.”

“Wow.”

“And I like to play the guitar. No,
love
to play the guitar, but I don't want to do it as a career.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm awesome, and I don't think I'd do well with massive amounts of wealth and fame.” He tries to sound so serious, but he starts laughing instead.

I laugh with him. It lightens my chest and warms me up from the inside. “You're very modest.”

He laughs too. “No, I want to do graphic design. I've made like a zillion fake album covers, and I've done up Zombie IDs for all my friends.”

“So you're a computer geek.”

He bumps my arm with his again. “And what are you?”

“I'm … I don't know yet.” That's an honest answer.

“So, really, you're Joy, the girl who's on a journey of self-discovery.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

Self-discovery makes me sound so cool and way less weird. “Yeah, I guess that's me.”

“So, you must be sixteen? Seventeen? I know I'm close,” he teases.

“I just turned sixteen.”

His brows go up. “You just
turned
sixteen?”

Why does he sound so surprised? “Yeah.”

“But you're a junior.”

“I tested in. Is that weird?” No one was sure where to put me, so I completed a bunch of tests when I moved here and tested into eleventh grade.

“So, you're a smart girl. That's hot.” His eyes aren't on me though, not while giving me that compliment.

“You're weird.” But I'm smiling, and it's the real kind.

He stops walking. “We're here.”

I look up and see the house. The walk went so fast.

“I'll see you tomorrow in Government, and maybe you'll come Friday night. You can meet my sister. Daisy usually comes, so you can see her again too.” He reaches out and touches just the edges of my fingers. Tingles fly up my arm and settle in my chest and then in my stomach. His fingers slide through mine, he squeezes just a little, and then backs up, letting my arm drop. He turns and walks toward his house. I'm sad to let him go, but that's about as much contact as I think I can handle right now.

As he walks away, I see the whole butt of his jeans is soaked from the grass, and I laugh. Loud.

“I know!” He laughs with me, turns, and walks backward a few steps. “But it was totally worth it.”

Worth it. To sit next to me. I'm suddenly warm and tingly all over and love every second of it.

SEVENTEEN

On the list

“What is that smile about?” Tara asks as I step inside.

“It's just a nice day out today.” But I know already that my red cheeks are betraying me.

She crosses her arms, disbelieving. “And that's it?”

“Justin walked me home from the park,” I admit. I kick my shoes off and head into the kitchen.

“Justin
Donaldon
?” Her eyes are wide. “He used to get into a lot of trouble, but he seems a little more laid-back this year. And … he's
hot
.”

“Hey.” Uncle Rob shakes his head. “Don't talk about boys like that.” He's standing at the counter with a bowl of cereal in hand. “Not until you're like … thirty.”

I stop and stare at Uncle Rob in old jeans and a T-shirt. “I thought you had to work today.”

He shrugs. “Just this morning. I miss the construction sites because my partner is normally the one who goes out. I dropped by a couple of projects to see how things are coming along.”

“But you design the houses, right? You're an … architect?” I'm interested because I miss drawing, and what Uncle Rob does can't be all that different. Homes instead of people and random objects, but still … inspired.

“I do.”

“Did you design this house?” I ask as I look around the large open kitchen, wondering how much of his thought process and creativity went into this home.

“I did.” He sets his bowl in the sink.

“Wow.” This house feels different now, like it's more special or something because I know where it came from.

“We should take you shopping.” Tara leans against the counter, crossing her arms and looking very serious.

“What?” How do we get from boys to architecture to shopping?

“You know, for clothes. I think you have school uniforms and maybe a few others things. Is that right?” she asks.

“Yeah, but I'm fine. I mean …” I'm afraid they're going to go to a lot of trouble for me. Also, school is one thing; the mall feels like a different universe.

“Dad?” Tara turns to her father, looking for help, I guess.

“I'll take you girls after I shower, okay?”

“We don't want you
there
.” Tara giggles as she pulls open the fridge door.

“Just my money, is that it?” Uncle Rob teases.

The beginning twinges of panic set in. I'll be going to a mall with just Tara, without Aunt Nicole or Uncle Rob.

“I'd like you there,” I say before Tara can discourage him further.

“Are you kidding?” Tara slumps, but I'm sure him coming is still okay.

“I'll stay out of the way and only speak when spoken to,” Uncle Rob says. “How's that?” He winks at me.

“Fine.” Tara tries to sound annoyed, but I don't think she cares either. She grabs a spoon to go with her yogurt and walks out of the room.

“Thank you.” I catch Uncle Rob's eyes. “And I think it's really cool that you build houses.”

“Happy to take you. And thanks for the compliment.” He starts out of the kitchen. “Don't forget to eat.”

I grab a banana from the counter. That'll work.

I just wish I knew what to expect from my day.

I try to pretend the mall is school. It's not working, but I have Tara and I'm desperate to be talking because it helps distract me from the chaos of the mall.

“Trent said you like Brandon,” I say.

Tara's cheeks turn red. “Brandon doesn't even know I exist.”

“He has to know you exist.” That makes no sense. “He and Trent are friends.”

She chuckles. “You don't get what I'm saying, Joy. He's not … I mean, he wouldn't go for someone like me.”

“What are you talking about?” I'm confused again.

“I just … I'm not like Trent. I'm not popular like Trent.”

I scramble for something to tell her to make her feel better. “Well Brandon does kung fu. Why don't you come with us?”

“'Cause I'm not good at kung fu.” Now Tara's looking down like I usually do and here I am with the top of my hair pulled back off my face and walking through the mall—both are new for me.

“I still think you should come. I'd like to have you there. And maybe if you and Trent do fun stuff together, he'll be nicer with your friends and everything.” I don't know if I'm helping or not. I don't know how to be around normal people, so my advice probably counts for nothing.

“Yeah, maybe I will.” She bites her lip and still won't look at me. I want her to smile.

“But coming to Kung Fu should be for you, not for Brandon.” I'm pretty sure doing something new shouldn't be all about the boy. Maybe there
are
benefits to being crazy enough to see a shrink.

“Well, it might be a
little
about Brandon … at first.” But she's smiling and I'm thrilled because I just did something to make Tara feel better.

The dressing room is too small. I feel trapped but also exposed by the idea of actually getting naked in here. There's a stack of things that Tara found for me, but I don't think I can try them on. What will she think?

Maybe I can just choose a few items without trying them on. Then I won't have to get undressed. But I can't pick things out. Uncle Rob will have to pay for them. The whole situation feels too weird. I have clothes. I'm fine. I don't need this. My chest gets tighter with each thought.

“I need air.” I step out of my dressing room.

“Joy?” Tara calls. “I'm not dressed.
Wait
. I'll be there in a sec.”

I don't wait. My legs carry me out of the dressing room to the counter.

“Can I help you?” The cashier's friendly smile doesn't feel friendly. Her disdain is probably in my head, but it doesn't change the fact that I want to get away from her and away from the tiny dressing rooms and the heap of clothes Tara found.

Where's Uncle Rob?

I start down the aisle that I think leads out of the store. Now that I don't have Tara with me, the store seems to have grown. I need to go back to her.

“Hey!” A man's voice behind me makes me jump. I look down, fold my arms, and move faster.

“I said
hey
!”

The voice is louder.

He must be gaining on me.

“You're Trent's cousin, right?” He's definitely closer.

Dread. The tingly kind that makes me see spots. He knows who I am. I need Uncle Rob.

My phone. I have a phone. I dig through my pocket and grasp it tightly.

“Hey!” The guy grabs my arm from behind.

I whimper, and my legs collapse underneath me. My heart's loud in my ears.

“Whoa.” He steps back with his hands in the air, staring at where I hit the floor.

“Joy?” Uncle Rob's next to me in a moment. I don't know where he came from, and I don't care.

“I'm just looking for Trent.” The guy's voice is so full of irritation, like I'm the one who just chased him down or something.

“Well, call his
phone
,” Uncle Rob snaps.

I'm such an idiot. I go to school with this guy and now I feel crazy again. Why couldn't I just turn and talk to him? I suck in a breath, but my lungs aren't working right and I'm gasping for air.

“Come on.” Uncle Rob helps me off the floor.

I'm afraid to look up. People staring won't help me now. Do I get to add this to my list of crazy?

• Can't try on clothes at the mall.
  
• Freaks out when recognized.
  

Uncle Rob digs into his pocket and hands me a small white pill—the ones set aside for panic attacks.

Defeat.

I take it.

“Here.” He hands me a bottled water to wash my pill down, and my day is about to fade into nothing.

We sit in Uncle Rob's SUV and my eyes are closed. We're waiting for Tara and whatever she picks from the pile of clothes she originally chose for me.

I feel like such a wimp. “So, I'm crazy enough that you feel the need to keep drugs on your person at all times?” I ask Uncle Rob.

“It's not like that.” His voice is just above a whisper. He's watching me so carefully.

“It
is
like that. I feel so weak.” My body doesn't feel stressed anymore, though. I'm too relaxed and rubbery to be stressed. My thoughts are turning fuzzy like they always do on my panic meds. The tightness from my chest is gone and taking a deep breath is so
easy
. Why wasn't breathing this easy before?

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Like you all have to be careful around me. I have this list of crazy things I do. I hate it.” My list … My brain is seriously blurring out. My eyelids are so
heavy
.

“List?”

“The eating thing and the talking thing and the freak-out thing. I'm so broken.” And knowing how broken I am makes me heavy, but not really sad because I can't really
feel
my brokenness right now—not after my pill.

“You have a list?”

Oops. The list was supposed to be private. I stay silent.

“Joy, you're not broken. It's …”

“I don't need one of those pills every time something goes wrong.” I'm going to be a zombie for an entire day.

“I just worry, and …”

“Okay!” Tara gushes as she opens the car door. “You're going to
love
what I got you!”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

The clothes and her niceness make me heavier. Poor Uncle Rob had to come to the mall, drag me out there, and pay for my stuff. Tara was stuck trying things on alone and had to make decisions for me. It's all too much. Even after the pill, I still care about what a ridiculous ordeal I turned our outing into.