Until Today (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

The next morning, Sarah stomps into the kitchen, destroying my solitude. I look up from my bowl of cereal, ready to clear the air between us. There's an empty place inside me after leaving Steph at the dam. I have no energy for another confrontation.

“Hey, you still mad at me?”

Sarah shrugs, flops on the chair and sticks her bottom lip out in a pout. I fight the temptation to snap at her for acting like a spoiled brat.

“Oh, come on – I was only trying to talk to you. You didn't have to take off like that.”

“You treat me like a baby. I'm not a baby!”

“You don't have to yell.” I hold my breath, waiting to see if Mom or Dad come running. “I don't treat you like a baby, but you sure act like one sometimes.” I ignore Sarah when she sticks her tongue out. “I don't know why I even bother. I was only trying to tell you not to be so affectionate now that you're getting older.”

“But it's Uncle Greg. Why can't I hug Uncle Greg?”

I stare into my bowl of cereal. “You just shouldn't. It's not right to do that as you get older – you aren't a baby anymore. You're just too big to be hugging him.” How do you explain something like this to a kid like Sarah?

“Why? People always hug and kiss on TV.”

“Good morning, girls.” Mom walks into the kitchen with her briefcase.

“Mommy,” Sarah says, casting a haughty look my way, “why can't I hug Uncle Greg anymore?”

“What?” Mom looks back and forth between us.

“Why can't I hug Daddy, Uncle Greg, and Jared?” Sarah's bottom lip sticks out even farther than before.

“Oh, not this again. Of course you can hug them.” Mom raises her eyebrows at me. “They're family, and you can hug them whenever you want.”

“Greg's not family!” My spoon bounces off the table and clatters to the floor.

“He's family to us,” my mother says firmly.

My chair falls to the floor as I push it back from the table. “He's not family. He's Dad's friend. Being Dad's friend doesn't mean he's family, and it doesn't mean he should be here all the time, or that he's—”

“What is wrong with you, Katrine?” Mom's face is shocked at my outburst. “Amy and Greg are welcome here any time. You always love seeing them. They've done—”

“Oh, forget it! I can't talk to any of you!” I stomp through the kitchen and out the front door with Sarah's smirk and Mom's shock following me like a dark shadow. Why can't they see what Greg is like?

A rusty, blue Mustang pulls into Scott and Steph's driveway across the road. Steph bursts through the front door in blue jeans that seem to be painted on. She climbs into the car without even looking in my direction. Tim hangs out the window and waves at me, a mocking grin on his face. I immediately raise my finger to him and then feel stupid for lowering myself to his level. I kick the curb in frustration then hop around in pain. Once again, I look like an idiot in front of Steph and her new friends. What a great start to the day.

Scott comes out of his front door and meets me at the end of my driveway, raising an eyebrow as I limp in a circle.

“Hey,” Scott greets me, “looks like you're having a great day so far.” I glare at him. “I figured you would go with Steph. Mom told me she was over here yesterday.”

“We
were
on the mend…”

“Uh-oh. Dare I ask?”

“No, you dare not. Let's just say I don't like her new group of friends and leave it at that.”

“Wow, you're touchy today. I don't disagree, though.” Scott shakes his head and stares after Mike's Mustang. “They're bad news, but you can't tell her anything. Steph has a mind of her own.”

“I can't believe she's so blind. Can't you talk to her?”

“I've tried, but we've argued every time.”

I sigh and sit down beside Scott on the brick ledge at the bottom of our driveway.

“I haven't seen you much lately.”

Scott shrugs. “I've been busy.” He looks down the street to see if our bus is coming. “Are you working after school?”

“I don't know. Aunt Sheila is going to call. I have to wait and see what's happening with a patient.”

“That sounds serious.”

“Yeah, it is. It's actually really sad.” I stare at the road, picturing Taylor's tears and frightened eyes.

“A sick kid?”

I hesitate, recalling Steph's reaction yesterday. It still bothers me that she thought something was wrong with Taylor for not telling. What if Scott says the same thing?
There's only one way to find out.

“No, an abused girl. Her father has been beating her up.” I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction.

Scott whistles. “That's brutal. How old is she?”

I release my breath, relieved that he didn't blame Taylor.

“Sarah's age. I felt terrible for her after she told me.”

“Wow, she told you something like that? That's heavy stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Poor kid. That must've been horrible. I can't imagine what that would be like.” I want to throw my arms around Scott and hug him. I should have known he would come through – he's always been a nice guy.

“Yeah,” I say noncommittally.

“Too bad we can't do more for kids like that. It's kind of depressing when you think about it. Anybody I know?”

If Scott cares about helpless children, that might include the one inside me. I suddenly feel a little lighter. Maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

“I can't tell you who she is.”

“It'll probably be in the papers soon. You can't beat these small town reporters when they sniff out a story. Child abuse is a big one around here. Who would have thought it would be so close to home?”

Uncomfortable with Scott's observation, I'm relieved to see the bus coming down the road. I don't want to think about the headline possibilities for Taylor or for myself if our stories ever come to light. It's not something I've considered – having such a dirty, horrible story in the paper for everybody to read.

Steph isn't in the cafeteria for lunch period and she doesn't show for any of our classes. I suppose she's joined Mike and his gang, skipping classes and doing whatever they do. If only there was some way to get through to her and show her he isn't worth it.

I run into the house after school, but nobody is around, and there's no note on the table.

The phone rings just as I dump my knapsack in my room.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kat.” My heart jumps at the sound of Aunt Sheila's voice. Scott's words about the newspapers have bothered me all day. I need to know Taylor is okay.

“How's Taylor?” I take my coat off and throw it on the bed.

“She's fine but exhausted. She's been sleeping for the past three hours after all the interviews this morning. We're keeping her here until her grandparents can pick her up. They should be here by tomorrow.”

“What about her father?” I ask.

“He definitely has some explaining to do. I don't know if it will go to court or not.”

I release my breath in a loud whoosh. “Will it be in the papers?”

Aunt Sheila is quiet on the other end for a moment. “Probably, if it goes to court. Taylor will be protected as a minor, but the whole situation will be difficult. Her father is a principal.”

What would the media do to Taylor?
I wonder what Mom's reaction will be since she thinks so highly of Mr. Bradford.

“Don't worry,” Aunt Sheila continues, “Taylor will be with her grandparents until this is all straightened out. She likely has a long road ahead of her, but at least she's safe now.”

“What about her mom?”

“From what I understand, she will go through a series of interviews to determine her capabilities and perspective on the situation and what her intent is toward Taylor and her brother. It's too soon to say.”

A page for Dr. Williams sounds in the background.

“I guess you have to go. Should I come in?”

“Take a break tonight, unless you want to say good-bye to Taylor.”

“Okay, I'll probably come and see her later.”

“Kat…”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. I don't know how you did it, but you managed what none of us could do. Somehow you reached out to Taylor and got her to open up. I'm so proud of you. If you were here right now, I'd give you a big hug. How'd you do it?”

“I don't know. I guess I just listened to her and understood.”

A second page for Dr. Williams is announced in the background.

“Whatever you did – thanks.”

“Sure. Bye.”

Aunt Sheila's words surprise me and make me feel good. How
did
I do it? I think it was the child inside me that reached out to Taylor. I understood what she was going through. Who knows? Maybe Taylor was simply ready to tell, and I'm the one who was there. She said she always wanted a big sister.

Briefly, I wonder about her brother Darren and his involvement in the whole situation. Was he aware of it? Did he try to help his sister?

Jared would never sit by and let somebody hurt me, or Sarah. I guess that's one of the reasons I was never able to confide in Jared, even though we are very close. He would have been so upset. Jared is big, but Greg is a lot bigger.

Jared got suspended from school when he was in ninth grade for starting a fight. The other boy, Jamie Wilson, was picking on me. He was pushing me around and calling me names, when Jared and some of his friends came upon us. Jared flipped out. Jamie went home with a bloody nose and black eye. Jared went home with a three-day suspension slip and a sore fist.

If Jared was that upset with Jamie Wilson, I can't imagine what he'd do to Greg – if he believed me.

I need to write in my journal. So much has been happening, and I haven't written anything for days. It almost feels like I'm neglecting a part of myself.

I head out the patio door. The backyard is starting to fill with leaves of gold, red, orange, and brown. They rustle and scatter when I walk through them to the clubhouse. The air smells fresh and crisp. An image of Taylor jumping into a pile of leaves lightens my step.

In the clubhouse, everything looks familiar at first glance – the table in the middle with the wooden chairs, the curtains, Jared's sports equipment piled high – but it feels different. The safe feeling I always get when I walk through the door is missing.

Something's not right here
.

Then I see the mess behind the table. Skipping ropes, dishes from my old tea set, and Barbie clothes spill from the milk crates that have fallen onto the floor.

I shove the milk crates out of my way and look behind them.

My journal is gone.

Chapter Sixteen

Paralyzed, I stare at the empty spot on the floor. Where's my journal?

Right now, somebody could be reading every word of all the personal things I wrote. If that's so, then somebody knows the truth. I've lost control of my secret.

I panic.
I have to find my journal.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I root through the mess on the floor, hoping to feel the familiar black book. I toss plates from my tea set across the room and ignore the shattering noise as they break against the walls. There's nothing under the mountain of Barbie clothes either.

Who could have taken it? Nobody knows it's here.
My face is wet with tears.
I have to find it. Nobody can read it. It's mine
.

“Hey Kat, you didn't answer your door, so I figured you'd be down here. I need to talk to you about Steph—”

I jerk and my head bashes into the table. Any other time I would have laughed at him, standing speechless in the doorway of the clubhouse with his mouth hanging open.

“Jeez Kat, what's going on?” Scott rushes over and kneels in front of me.

He reaches for my arms, but I pull back, trying to hide my tears.

“I have to find it. I have to!” I don't resist when he pulls me closer, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.

“Okay, we'll find it,” he whispers. “What're we looking for?”

“Who could have it? I have to get it back,” I sob. “No, no, no – it can't be gone.”

“What can I do, Kat? How can I help?” Scott's voice sounds strangled.

Huge sobs rack my body, leaving me fighting for breath.

“Kat, you're scaring the hell out of me. Look at me.” Scott's voice is soft, yet firm.

I raise my head. The strength and tenderness in his eyes reach out to me, taking some of the edge off my panic. His arms chase away some of the chill. The only other person who has ever made me feel this safe is Jared.

Scott breaks the silence. “Talk to me, please.”

“My – my…My journal is gone.”

His lips turn up slightly. “That's it? We'll find it.”

“No – no. That's not it.”

“Okay. What else?”

I try to gather my thoughts. What can I do? I have no idea where to start. I try to pull away from Scott, but his grip on my arms becomes stronger.

“Trust me, Kat. I'll always be here to help you.” Scott lowers his head.

Trust me. Trust me.
Scott's words ring inside my head. He's always come through for me when I've really needed him.

But to tell the secret – to share something so dirty and deep and dark – could I do that with Scott?

Who else do you have? Somebody else out there knows.

I pull away and sit back against the wall. Scott sits on the floor, waiting.

“Kat, I know something's wrong. You haven't been yourself lately. I don't know how to help you because you won't talk to me.”

“I don't know if I can. Besides, you haven't been around much lately.”

“I'm here now. Tell me what's going on.” His voice is firm with a touch of impatience.

“You might feel differently toward me.” I shiver at the thought of Scott hating me.

“Don't you know I could never feel differently toward you?” Scott sighs, shifts his weight and grabs my hand, sending warm shock waves through my body. I trust his words as if he was Jared.

“It's not pretty.”

“I guessed that much.” Scott squeezes my hand.

“I have a secret in my journal.”

“A secret?”

I watch Scott, needing to look into his eyes and see the expression on his face. So many thoughts and feelings bombard me: the child inside me needs my help, how difficult it is to bear this burden alone, how much Taylor's life will change, the pain of Steph's betrayal and how lonely her absence makes me, and Greg's terrible threats.

Scott squeezes my hand, distracting me from the chaos inside my head.

“About Greg…”

Scott's eyes narrow, but he maintains eye contact. “What about Greg?”

“About what he does to me.” The words come out in a soft whisper.

“About what?” Scott asks. Did he not hear my whisper, or does he need me to say the words again?

Tears gather in my eyes. I can say it again.

“The things he does to me.” This time, the words startle me with their forcefulness, ringing through the silence in the clubhouse, loud and clear.

Scott's grip tightens as his body tenses. His eyes narrow and the corners of his mouth pull into a frown.

My heart slams against my chest and the ball inside my stomach throbs. I tense in reaction to Scott's body language. Could I have been wrong about him? Should I have trusted him? I want to look away so I don't have to see disgust on Scott's face, but I can't – something inside me won't let me move.

Scott closes his eyes, his heavy breathing filling the silence in the room. The loss of eye contact releases me from my frozen state and I jerk away, ready to get up and run.

Suddenly his eyes snap open. I jump when Scott reaches out and pulls my hand back into his.

Surprisingly, his grip is gentler than it was before.

“Don't pull away from me. Tell me what that bastard did to you.”

“I…” I stammer, shocked at Scott's intensity and language. “I…I can't.”

“Tell me what he did to hurt you.”

Scott's words echo in my head. Scott doesn't think it's my fault. I can do this.

“He touches me…” I say, staring into the brown haven of Scott's eyes, “…and he makes me touch him. He…he does things to me.”

Scott's breathing deepens and his lips thin into a straight line.

“I don't want to do those things, Scott. Honest, I don't.” The last few words come out in a whimper.

The tears fall from my eyes and track down my cheeks. The words make me feel dirty and cheap. They ring inside me, twisting my heart, as if trying to suffocate it. The world is swimming in a dizzy circle, dragging me down into an endless black hole.

Suddenly, Scott pulls on my hand, jerking me toward him and bringing me out of the dark pit. I'm buried in his arms, unable to move from his iron grip.

We sit, wrapped together, crying and rocking.

Finally, Scott breaks the silence. “I'm sorry, Kat. I didn't know. I should've helped you, but I didn't know.”

Suddenly, Scott gasps. “The other night after finding Sarah – he tried to get rid of me so fast – did he—”

I shake my head, fighting the fog enveloping my brain.

“Did it happen again that night because I left? I'm so sorry.” A tear falls down Scott's cheek.

“No, nothing happened. Amy came to find him and they went home.”

Scott expels a long breath, then his muscles tense again.

“That night when I picked you up after the party, you freaked out. Why?”

Sighing, I look into his eyes. “Scott, you have to understand. I don't sleep much because I have nightmares about him. It was dark, the party was horrible, I was upset, and I fell asleep in the van. Maybe I was dreaming of him, or maybe I just woke up disoriented. I don't know. At first, I thought you were Greg.” Scott pulls away, but I grip his arms, determined to make him understand. “You're nothing like him, Scott. I just wasn't myself, and I wasn't thinking straight. I was really out of it.”

“You ran from me.” Scott brushes his hand over his face, in obvious agitation and hurt.

“Scott, I know you'd never hurt me. I wouldn't be sitting here, confiding in you, otherwise. I've never told anybody.”

“How long, Kat? How long have you had to live with this?”

“For as long as I can remember.” I stop fidgeting with my hands to brush the tears off my cheeks.

“When we were kids?”

I nod. “I was always the odd one out growing up. Jared was Dad's champion and when Sarah was born, she was his little angel. I couldn't figure out where I fit in. Greg made me feel special and loved.” Scott grimaces, while I pause to gather my thoughts. My voice grows stronger as I talk about the things I've never been able to put into words before. “When I started realizing it was wrong, he threatened me. By then I thought it was my fault.”

“I'll kill him. I'll find him and kill him for doing this to you.” Scott pushes me away and jumps to his feet.

“No!” I scramble to my feet and grab his arm.

“Why are you protecting him? He deserves it for what he did to you.” His voice breaks on the last few words.

“I'm not protecting him.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I'm protecting myself – and you.”

Scott spins to walk away. “I don't need protection, Kat. He's sick, and somebody has to do something.”

I grab his arm again, angry that he is taking control of the situation. “No, Scott. You can't make this decision for me. You're being like him and not listening to me.”

Scott stops and whispers, “How could you say that?”

“You're taking control and not thinking about how I feel.” I let go of his arm as he turns to look at me. Tears run down my cheeks. “I'm not ready, Scott. Mom and Dad wouldn't
even believe me. He's been Dad's best friend since high school. They'll blame me.”

“You don't know that. They're your parents. Of course they'll believe you. What if he does it again, Kat?” Scott pulls me back into a hug.

“I won't let him.” I pull away and look up Scott. “I want to help myself, but I need to do it my way, in my own time.”

“If he touches one hair on your head…”

“He won't – not anymore.”

Scott puts my head on his shoulder.

“I can't imagine what you've been through.” Scott's voice shakes with emotion. “He's so much bigger than you. What if he hits you or something? You need to tell your parents.”

“How would he explain bruises to my parents? He's too smart.”

I tell Scott about my confrontation with Amy and the lies he told her. I also tell him about my fear of the reporters and newspapers and having everybody know. It would be awful going to school and having everyone look at me, knowing what I did with Greg. It would affect Dad's law practice and Mom's job at school.

“You shouldn't be protecting your parents; they should be protecting you. Please come to me when you need to.”

“I can't. He'll hurt you.”

“I can protect myself, Kat. Promise you'll come to me.”

“I'll try.” I say and step away from him. “This is so weird. I feel like I'm dreaming this. I didn't think I would ever be able to tell anybody.”

My load really does feel a little lighter. I'm no longer alone.

Looking around at the mess in the clubhouse, I suddenly remember my missing journal.

“Scott – my journal. Everything is in there. I have to find it.”