“Yeah… I forgot my keys.”
She shakes her head. “Third said that your momma is in emergency surgery,” she clucks.
I look at Third, who shrugs as if saying, “What?”
“Here, sit down. I’ll get y’all something to eat, to help settle the upset.” We go into the kitchen where she starts pulling out frying pans. “I hope you like grilled cheese. They are Bartholomew’s favorite late night snack.” I smile and suppress laughing at Third’s real name.
“Love them,” I reply.
After a healthy round of grilled cheese, Everett falls asleep on the pullout sleeper in the living room. I sit on the end of the bed, knees to my chest.
“Can I ask you something? Why did you come here and not to Dylan’s?” Third sits next to me on the end of the bed.
“I don’t know. I guess I was embarrassed. How do I tell him about my life? What if he would not want me anymore? I have seen you at your worst, so I guess it is easier for you to see me at my low point.” I lean my chin on my knees.
“So you want to tell me the real reason you didn’t want to go home? Something tells me that you are not the type of girl who has a problem breaking into places.” His light blue eyes accusing me.
“No. Not really.” How do I tell him that my mother is so high I am afraid of what she might do? I cannot risk Everett getting hurt. She would never hurt him on purpose, but tonight when she was shaking him, she was out of her mind. I would have gone to Ms. Sophie’s, but her daughter is in town. The last thing I need is her getting suspicious and making a phone call to the state.
He sighs, “Okay, but if you ever need to talk I will listen…so would Dylan.” He laughs to himself. “He would go postal if he knew that you were sleeping over at my house.” I cringe. “How about we keep this to ourselves?” I pat him on the leg.
“I hate lying to my boy, but I think you’re right on keeping this under wraps.” He pushes me with his shoulder.
“Thanks.”
I wake up to the smell of bacon. Yummm, bacon. When I finally shut off my internal worrying I slept like a baby. So did Everett. I reach over and pull him tight to my chest. His small body fits perfect against mine. I push his hair out of his sleeping face. He looks like his father with sandy blond hair and freckles. Everett’s father was not one of the dirt bags like Momma usually likes to bring home. He was cool. He had a motorcycle and would take me for rides on the back to get ice cream. I thought that I might have a chance for a normal family with him. A dad and mom like a normal family. We would sit on the end of a dock near the ice cream parlor, our toes dangling in the water. He always got Rocky Road and black raspberry for me. We would lick at our ice cream and just talk. He used to say how he wanted to name the baby Everett after his grandfather who fought in the war. If it was a girl, he liked Jane. I thought Jane was the perfect name for a girl. Normal. Then one day, when I came home from school he was packing himself up. He pulled me into a hug and told me that he was sorry, but my mother was crazy. I stood on the porch next to my mother, with her pregnant swollen belly, and watched him drive away on his motorcycle.
Mrs. Cruz gives us a toothbrush to use. I try to scrub away yesterday’s makeup, but it just makes me look like a raccoon. I wet down Everett’s frizzy bed head. There is nothing I can do about his dirty clothes from yesterday. I hope Mrs. Perky does not notice he is wearing the same clothes. I doubt it.
I finger comb my hair in my first period class. Giving up, I knot it on top of my head and try to pay attention. My eyes flutter shut, and a dull ache starts to throb behind my eyes. I shuffle between classes in a daze, my head hurting. By the time the lunch bell rings, my head feels like it wants to split wide open. I grab the brown bag of lunch that Mrs. Cruz made for me out of my locker and head to the cafeteria. I slide into my seat next to Dylan.
“Hey,” I lean over and kiss him on his cheek.
“Hey Baby…” he kisses me back. “Are you okay?”
I rub at my temples. “Yeah fine,” except that my head is pounding and I cannot seem to warm up. These must be after-effects from walking the four miles to Third’s. I had to carry Everett most of the way. Now every muscle aches. “Just tired,” I give him a smile.
“Out late? What did you do?” He looks at me with those damn doe-brown eyes and I want to tell him the truth. “Everett had a stomachache and kept me up half the night.” I hate myself. He doesn’t ask anymore. He seems not to notice that I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He slips his hand into mine and I lean against his shoulder. He feels strong and sturdy. I need him. I want to curl up next to him and close my eyes. I just need to take a little nap and I will feel better.
Third sits down. “Hey, Bee, you okay?”
God, will people stop asking me that. He opens his lunch. “Why does everyone ask me that?” I snap.
Third stops riffling through his bag and Dylan stops eating his apple. “You just don’t look like you feel well. That’s all.” he says.
Guilt fills me. I shouldn’t snap at him after he has been so nice. “Sorry, I guess I really don’t feel so well.” I reach up and feel my forehead. It is clammy. Maybe I just need to eat. I pull out the ham and cheese sandwich, chips, and a homemade chocolate chip cookie. Delish.
“That’s funny. You and Third have the same lunch,” Dylan notices.
“Weird,” Third agrees.
I push my lunch toward Third, suddenly, I am not hungry. Guilt of lying to Dylan has my stomach rolling. I lean back on Dylan. He is so warm.
“Maybe you should go to the nurse. If you are not eating, you really must be sick,” Dylan says.
“No, I will be okay. I just need to rest my eyes for a moment.” They feel so heavy. I close my eyes.
I must have dozed off, because the bell is ringing and Dylan is shaking me awake. I try to stand, but my feet feel weak under me. I stumble forward.
“I am taking you to the nurse.” Dylan grabs my elbows and steadies me.
“No. I think I just need to go home,” I argue.
Dylan frowns. “I have a test next class,” he says hesitantly.
“I will take her home,” Third offers.
“No, I can—” Dylan argues.
“No, go take your test. It is just a headache.” I reach up and kiss him on his cheek. I lean against Third and let him lead me out to the minivan.
“I don’t want to go home,” I whimper unsure of what I will find.
Mrs. Cruz takes one look at me and sends me straight to Third’s room. His bed is like a soft cloud and I pull the covers up to my chin. I fall in and out of a restless sleep. My sleep. My body is licked by fire one moment, and then dipped in icy chills the next. A cold sweat mats my hair down to my forehead.
I dream of Dylan. He dances in front of me with Katie in his arms. My heart breaks, shattering around me in a thousand tiny pieces. I try to pick it up and put it back together. They dance around me, laughing at the pieces in my hand. I try to stop them but they are just out of my reach. They fade away. I am now walking down along a red dirt road. Tall oak trees grow on either side of the road, with moss hanging off their thick, heavy branches. The sun sets, bathing everything it touches in gold. I have never seen anything so beautiful. It is silent. Numbing. There is only the long, winding dirt red road in front and back of me. I wish I could stay here forever. I stop to pick some purple flowers that grow along the side of the road when I hear it. Screaming. I can feel the screaming. It is in my skin, making it tremble. Piercing my bones. I start to run to find Everett, but my legs can barely lift. They feel heavy, stuck. I need to keep going. I have to help him. I try calling out his name to tell him I am coming. I have no voice. I am panicked. I will my legs to at least walk. I try lifting them once more and I stumble to the ground. I claw at the ground, trying to get to him. I can’t. I cannot save him.
I wake with a jolt, my heart racing. My hair is in thick mats pressed against my forehead in wet clumps. I take in deep gulps of a
ir, and tell myself that Evie is fine. He is not lost and hurt somewhere. It was all a bad dream.
The door cracks open and Mrs. Cruz sticks her head in. “Oh good, you are up. How ya feeling?” She pushes the door open. In her hand she holds a tray with soup. The smell of chicken noodle fills the room. My stomach lets out a loud growl.
“Hungry.”
She smiles a warm smile at me. My head is not hurting anymore, but my body still aches. I feel like I ran a marathon. “Good. I thought that you would be starved since the last time you ate was yesterday.” She sets the tray down on the nightstand. Yesterday!
“How long have I been asleep?” I kick off the blankets and start to get up. “Everett—” All the things that could have happened to him suddenly whirl in my mind.
“He is fine honey. Barty went to pick him up from school. I hope you don’t mind, but I bought him some clothes from the Wal-Mart. I couldn’t send him to school in the same things.” The bed sinks under her weight.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for everything.” I feel like crying because no one has been this good to us in a long time. She pushes the hair back off my forehead, in a motherly way. My own mother never acted so motherly to me. Here is practically a stranger showing me such kindness.
“It’s the least I can do. Your poor momma, having to rush to your ailing grandmother.” She stands up. “You should give her a call when you get up. Let her know y’all are fine.” I sigh, wanting to pull the blankets back over my head. Another lie. I feel guilty for deceiving Mrs. Cruz. She is such a sweet lady, taking care of two troubled kids without so much as a question. “I am going to go and pick up some chicken to fry for the boys. Why don’t you take a shower in my bathroom?” She reaches for the door. “Oh and I picked these up for you at the Wal-Mart too.” She hands me a package of white underwear.
“Thanks,” I smile.
Mrs. Cruz’s bathroom looks like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol puked in it. Everything is the same pink, right down to her pink, carpeted, toilet seat cover. Who puts carpet on a toilet seat? There is lace sewed onto any piece of fabric. I look in the mirror. My skin looks pale and my eyes sit in dark pools under my eyes. My hair is dried to my forehead in stringy clumps. I peel my clothes off and kick them in the corner. I climb in the shower and get to work on my hair first. I shampoo twice with yummy, lemon-smelling shampoo. I turn the heat up, letting it hit every aching part of me. Comfort fills me, and I relax knowing that the mother hen and Third are letting me be sick, a luxury I am not often granted. I need to call Dylan and let him know that I am okay. He must be worried that I didn’t show up at school today.
I turn off the water and wrap a big fluffy pink towel around me. I head back to Third’s bedroom. I am going to have to thank him for letting me take over his bed. I would not be willing to give up such a comfortable bed. Sleeping on it was like floating on a cloud. I pull a T-shirt from the stack of clean folded clothes on top of his dresser and a pair of the new undies from the bag Mrs. Cruz bought for me. Not the type I usually wear or my size, but there is something sweet about oversized granny panties when you’re sick. Comfort. I climb back in to bed and fall back to sleep. This time I dream, happy dreams, dreams of Dylan.
***
“I can’t find her anywhere. I drove around all night looking for her,” the sound of Dylan’s panicked voice wakes me. My heart is beating fast in my throat. How am I going to explain myself to him?
“Dylan,” Third’s voice is cut off again by Dylan.
“I have been calling you. Why in hell have you not answered,” he continues.
“Bro, I need—” Third tries again.
“Is that Everett? What is Everett doing here?”
I push the blankets off me and try to remember where I put my pants. My head is still clouded. I hear his heavy footsteps and I start to rise when the bedroom door swings open.
“Barbie?” Confusion, then anger flashes in his dark brown eyes. I sink back on the bed.
“Dude, she was sick,” Third stands behind him. I can only imagine what this must look like to him. Me in Third’s bed wearing only a shirt, I need to tell him the truth. The lies have gone on too long. Too long I have been hiding this part of me. I will tell him everything, and if he doesn’t want me, then I will have to accept that. I am so tired of lying. Dylan spins on Third.
“You are supposed to be my friend!” He shoves Third against the doorframe slamming his head against the sharp wood. “I told you how I felt about her.” He pushes him again.
“Dylan,” I yell. I am up, grabbing at his raised fist. “It’s not what you think.” I beg him to listen to me. He needs to hear the truth. He shoves Third onto the floor and looks down on me, hurt filling his eyes.
“You!” he spits, fury copious in his voice. “I should have expected this from you!” Anger curls around each word. He pushes past me.
I run after him, grabbing onto his arm. “Dylan, will you just please listen to me? You have it wrong,” I beg.
His lip curls up in disgust as he looks at me. He shrugs my hand off him and storms out the front door. I know I have lost him forever.
Chapter 23.
Betrayal
She runs after me, pleading for me to stop and listen to her. That is the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to hear the lies that spill so easily from her mouth. She lies to everyone with such ease. Why would I be any different? What I want to do is get the hell out of here before I go back in there and beat the shit out of Third. It all makes perfect sense, the way he followed her around like a lost puppy. An image of him touching her fuels the red hot anger burns inside me.
“Dylan, please.” She catches up to me, stepping between me and my truck door. “Will you just listen?” she shouts. Her hair falls in a tangled mess, spilling around her shoulders. She wears his T-shirt and nothing else on the bottom. Her feet are bare. She looks like she just woke up or…
“He was my best friend, Barbie!” I scream at her. “What could you possibly have to say to make this right?”
She drops her head. She cannot even look me in the eye. A new wave of anger surges forward. I ride it, indignantly angry with her. “How about telling me why you are in there screwing my best friend!” I yell. My chest aches and rage swirls inside me, leaving me confused and hurt.
She grimaces at my words. I loved her. I planned on telling her that. “Why?” I spit.
“Dylan, I was sick,” she whispers more of her lies.
“So then you go home! Or you call me. You do not go and screw my best friend!” Her eyes fill with tears. Is she crying because she was caught, or she feels guilty for doing this to me?
“I would never…” She wraps her arms around her waist and her blue eyes meet mine. How can she look at me and lie right to my face? I know what I saw. She seems so small with his shirt hanging off her thin frame. How can I hate her and love her so much at the same time?
“That is who you are. Why would I think you would change for me?”
She steps back hurt, filling her eyes. I want to pull her back to me. I want to take away the hurt in her eyes and tell her I believe her. That I am sorry. That we can work this out. But it is too late for that.
“You’re right. You knew who I was from the beginning.” She takes another step backwards. “It was me who was wrong about you. I didn’t know who you were.” Tears fall from her eyes.
I pull open my truck door and spray gravel as I spin out of the drive way. I want to be as far away from her as possible.
I must have driven around for hours contemplating my next move. I drove back to Third’s street three times, wanting to go and demand that they tell me the truth. How long had they been messing around behind my back? I try to think of any other reason she could be in his bed and wearing his shirt. Shit. She even smelled like him I punch the steering wheel until my hand aches. I should have been cautious around her; I should have expected this from her. Come on, she was giving out hand jobs as if they were
Halloween candy. Why would she be any different with me? She didn’t love me. I was just a game to her. A project. Well, screw them both. It really stings when I think about Third’s betrayal. I thought he was my boy, that he had my back. I never thought he would do this to me. We have been through so much together. Just the other day I told him how I felt about Barbie. That I love her. He still stole her out from under me.
Chapter 24.
Cold
Third comes in to his bedroom wearing a striped, button-up, blue shirt. “How you holding up?” He sits next to me. I pull my legs up to my chest, wanting to pull in to myself. Tears burn at my eyes. Third tries to comfort me. “He was angry. He said things he is probably regretting right now. When you see him in school today… I bet he is going to apologize.” He gives me a weak smile. I want to believe him so badly, but I know better. I saw the hurt and betrayal in Dylan’s eyes. It does not matter how much I try. He will never believe me. He will never get over the betrayal he feels.
“I am not going to school.” My lip trembles. “He believes all those rumors about me.” A tear escapes and I wipe it angrily.
“I don’t.” He pats my leg which is still under the blanket.
“Why?” my voice cracks.
“Why? Because you are not any of those things. The girl I know is caring and puts the ones she loves above herself. That doesn’t sound like a girl who is busy getting high or handing out hand jobs in the locker room.”
I laugh around my tears. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have time. Could you imagine the strength I would have to have in my hand to perform that many?” I laugh, but the tears still fall.
“Besides, I would know if that was true because I would have been the first in line,” he winks at me.
“Ew,” I punch him in the arm “That’s gross.”
He exhales the sadness back in his face. “And he also knows you are not that girl. He is just angry. He needs time to cool down.”
I hope so.
I write Mrs. Cruz a thank you note. I don’t want to leave, but I have to go home and make sure Momma is still alive. Besides Mrs. Sophie’s daughter has to be gone by now. She only stays a few days at the most. Third drops me off in front of my house on his way to school. “Hang in there…” He rubs the top of my head before taking off. I relentlessly climb each step to my house, bracing myself for the worst.