Because I'm Disposable (8 page)

Chapter Thirteen

I wasn’t ready to get out of the truck
when Link pulled it to a stop outside his house. Would he kick me out if I lingered too long? I gazed out the window toward his driveway, lined with flowers—some calf-high, seasonal type I didn’t know the name of. I didn’t know anything about gardening or flowers, but Link’s mother was out there most evenings and every Saturday morning, weather permitting. Was that the kind of girlfriend Link would expect me to be—domestic?

I wouldn't, couldn't be the kind of girlfriend who would make him soup when he was sick or give him homemade gifts for his birthday. I wouldn't know how.

The only thing domestic about my family was the abuse.

Maybe I should have agreed to go out with Jason. He would probably have been a better fit for my dysfunction. Link was too good, too clean-cut. Too everything.

“Why did you ask me out?” The question escaped before I could stop it, hanging in the air between us like a curtain.

Link shut off the engine and turned to face me. “Because I wanted to take you out on a date,” his voice lowered to match the quiet inside the truck, “because I like you, and you deserve to go out and have some fun.”

“I do?” I didn’t.

Link nodded. “Plus, I wanted to be able to sit next to you in a dark room for a few hours,” he closed his hand around mine on the bench seat between us, “and maybe hold your hand.”

My hand? Right then, he was holding my heart, and it felt so dangerous to let him.

“How adorably old-fashioned of you,” I teased. “Next, you’re going to tell me you’d like to court me.”

“I wouldn’t mind courting you. In fact, I think I’d enjoy it.”

And just like that, my mouth was dry
, and my palms were sweaty. I reclaimed the hand he held and brushed my palms down my skirt under the pretense of smoothing the pleats. “I think I’d like that too.”

Link settled a hand on my shoulder and leaned close
, so close. And closer still—until his lips brushed mine. I opened my mouth, and his tongue slipped through. His kiss was teasing, loving, a playful caress, and I met him kiss for kiss. The prickling excitement tracing across my skin made what I’d been feeling in the theater seem tame.

T
oo soon, he pulled away from me and opened his door. Suddenly, the cab was too small, too warm. I opened my door and stepped out into the crisper temperatures outside.

“Thanks for a fun night,” I told him as I stepped off the curb, into the street. I headed toward my house, and Link fell into step behind me. All the way to my front door. He was walking me home, just like the gentleman that he was.

When I stopped and turned, he was so close I almost bumped my nose on his chest. We each took a step back in a move that could have been choreographed. “Thanks for letting me take you out.” His eyes closed to half-mast, and he leaned in just the slightest fraction of space. Was he going to kiss me again? My stomach flipped, and I closed my eyes in anticipation.

His kiss landed on the top of my head. It was a solid, tender, intimate kiss. The kind a parent would give a child. No one had ever treated me that delicately. When I opened my eyes, I had to blink back a stray tear.

What was wrong with me? I wasn’t a crier. I certainly didn’t cry in front of people. I needed to make a quick escape before I did something else out of character like profess my undying love for Link.

“Uh, okay, well
…” I turned the doorknob behind my back. “See you tomorrow!” I fled inside my house and shut the door behind me. I leaned back against it, every cell in my body breathing a collective sigh of relief.

“Finally! I thought you were going to be out there all night.” Corrine called from the darkness of the TV-lit living room. I’d missed her in the shadows. Not that I’d been paying all that much attention anyway.

“Hey, Corri.” I sighed the words and trudged up the stairs. Dad’s recliner slammed shut, and the springs creaked as Corrine got up to follow me.

“How was it? Did he kiss you?” She raced up the stairs after me. “Is he a good kisser?”

Boy was he. Every time he kissed me was better than the last and left me hoping the next kiss would come soon. “Good. Yes. And very.” Instead of heading straight into our room, I banked right, slipped into the bathroom, and shut the door in Corrine’s face.

“Ah, come on, Cal. I need details!”

“And I need to pee.”

Corrine’s huff was exaggerated through the bathroom door. “Fine.” Her heavy footsteps retreated toward the bedroom.

She was sitting on my bed waiting for me when I got there a few minutes later. “Okay, spill!”

It was going to be a long night.

* * * * *

“Hey, Callie!” Someone was calling my name, but I didn’t recognize the voice. I spun in a circle, trying to pinpoint the person, but didn’t land on anyone in the quazi-crowd of students all wandering toward their third period classes. “Callie, over here.” I looked again, this time landing on a familiar face approaching from further down the hall of the science building. Soft, effeminate features, poor excuse for a
goatee, gold hoop in his ear—it was Mona’s friend Garrett.

“Do you have science right now too?” he asked as he jogged up to me. I nodded. “That’s nuts! I wonder how many times we’ve passed each other and never known it because we hadn’t met yet.” Then, he giggled and looped an expertly spray-tanned arm through mine.

“Probably every day, all year, at least.”

He giggled again. “Hey, are you hungry? I am so hungry. Wanna go to Taco Shack with me? Ooh, or we could go over to the Burger Bus. I love their fries. Don’t you love their fries? They have amazing fries, right? Doesn’t that sound good?”

When Garrett finally stopped talking, I waited a minute before responding, in case he still had more he wanted to say. I wondered if he’d ever been at a loss for words in his entire life. “Yeah, Burger Bus sounds good.” The minute the words were out of my mouth, Garrett turned us toward the exit. “You meant right now?”

“Hell, yeah! We can go now and be back in time for fourth period. Plus
… Burger Bus!”

I laughed and let Garrett lead me toward the bus circle.

* * * * *

An hour and a half later, I followed Garrett back onto school grounds. My belly was full of Burger Bus fries, and fourth period was actually looking tolerable. Garrett moved with purpose, as if he did this every day. But as we rounded the back of the auditorium, we were confronted with the chain-link fence that surrounded the staff parking lot, and the gate was closed. I slowed, but Garrett sauntered straight over to the fence where it met the auditorium wall and turned to wait for me.

“We’re locked out,” I whispered, as though my voice at regular volume would have drawn all of the administrators directly to us. Garrett slipped me a conspiratory half-grin and grabbed at the fence. At the corner, where the metal should have been attached to the wall, it lifted away with ease, creating a large enough gap for someone to crawl through.

“After you, milady.” Garrett punctuated his words with an overly grand wave of his hand toward the hole and a small bow. I slipped my backpack from my shoulders and tossed it through the opening, then got down on all fours. At least I didn’t have to worry about Garrett looking a
t my ass as I slipped through—I was pretty sure I was lacking some key equipment to be his type.

Once I was up and out of the way, Garrett handed me his messenger bag and followed me inside. He let the fence drop back into place with an audible clang that echoed off the surrounding buildings. I immediately spun to be
sure no one was around to hear and giggled with relief that we were still alone. And home free, it looked like. I slung one arm through a backpack strap, and we set off in the direction of the cafeteria to wait for the lunch bell to ring.

We made it all of twenty feet. Just as we were about to turn right behind the Language Arts building, Mrs. Easton marched onto the scene from the hall on the left, the one leading to the office. Her short silver curls bounced as she jerked to a stop in front of us. I pulled up short and stepped ever-so-slightly behind Garrett.

“Passes.” She sounded like a grandmother, but her stance was military. The soft demeanor backed by steely undertones was probably how she’d earned her position as the school’s Emotional Discipline teacher. Translation: Anger Management Counselor.

I froze, panic stricken.

“Sure, Mrs. Easton. I’ve got it right here.” Garrett was calm, confident, and friendly. Everything I didn’t feel right at that moment. He felt around in the pockets of his jeans. “Where did I put it?” Did he really have a pass? Oh, I was so screwed if he had a pass and I didn’t. Months later, he produced a small blue slip and handed it to her.

She looked it over, squinted. She moved it closer to her face, further away, closer. “This is good,” she finally said, and I relaxed a bit. Then, she slipped the pass into her pocket and speared Garrett with an authoritative look. “But it’s not real.”

Crap, he’d given her a forged pass. We were probably about to get suspended. Not that I wouldn’t mind the excused break from classes. Heck, at this rate, I might as well drop out. Then, I wouldn’t have to worry about school at all.

“No, it’s not,” Garrett insisted.

“Mr. Faulkner,” she addressed Garrett, “I know this pass is a fake, just like I know that you and Miss Tanner left campus.” Yep, it was all over now.

Garrett wasn’t ready to admit defeat though. “No, we didn’t. I left my math book in the auditorium and Callie was helping me find it.” He sounded so sincere, I almost believed him myself. Mrs. Easton wasn’t buying it. She didn’t bother to respond to him. Instead, she pointed up toward the metal awning covering our walkway.

Garrett and I followed her direction in unison, and my lungs collapsed. There, at the corner where the awning met the wall was a small security camera, aimed at the very fence we’d just come through. She must have seen us on camera. Garrett’s shoulders slumped, and he finally dropped all pretense of being an absent-minded but otherwise well-behaved student.

“Come with me,” Mrs. Easton instructed, and we followed her like the juvenile delinquents that we were.

Chapter Fourteen

Mrs. Easton’s office inside the Emotional Discipline room
was a glorified broom closet with a desk. Every inch of wall space was covered by inspirational posters about being your best you and living up to your full potential. Right then, I’d have been anything she wanted just to get out of that room. To not be stuck sitting in a folding metal chair next to Garrett, across from Mrs. Easton with her disapproving I-see-right-through-you stare.

But I wasn’t so lucky.

“Whose idea was it to skip class and leave school grounds?” I could tell from her expression that she’d already zeroed in on Garrett being the culprit. I wasn’t going to rat him out, even if she hadn’t.

“Callie wanted to go get something to eat, and I went with her to try to convince her to come back to school.” And just like that, Garrett threw me under the bus to save his own worthless backside. My chin practically hit the floor, and in seconds I was sputtering nonsensically, trying to come up with a protest, but only coming up empty-handed.

Mrs. Easton looked between us with an inscrutable expression. Then, she took out a pad of pink slips and wrote. She tore one off and handed it to Garrett. “Go immediately to I.S.S. for the rest of the day, and you’ll be there all day tomorrow, too.”

Garrett took the slip and st
ood. I started to follow.

“Not—
” Mrs. Easton’s voice was sharp, “you, Miss Tanner.”

I sat back down. Garrett graced me with an apologetic shrug and left. Mrs. Easton didn’t speak for a few minutes, and I didn’t look at her, choosing instead to visually trace the lines of the wood her desk was made from. Swirl, line, knot, line.

Finally, she put me out of my misery, “I know it wasn’t your idea to skip class, Callista.”

That got my attention. “You do?”

She nodded and leaned forward, crossing her arms on her desk. “It’s not the first time I’ve caught Garrett sneaking on or off campus.” She paused, took a deep breath. Then, “A lot has changed for you this year. With your dad, and the team …” Of course, she would know about that stuff; I was the talk of the school.

I shrugged.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

I shook my head.

“I understand. If you ever do feel like talking, I’m always here for you. And this,” she motioned a lateral circle with both hands, “is a no-judgment zone. Anything you say to me is between us, if you want it to be.”

I nodded.

Mrs. Easton took a book of passes out of her top drawer and filled out the top one. “Go on to lunch. I trust you’ll be attending the rest of your classes today?”

I nodded again.

She smiled and handed me the pass she’d just filled out. “This is for when you decide you do want to talk. You won’t use it the way Garrett used his fake pass, right?”

“No, ma’am.”

A satisfied grin erupted on her face, and she pushed back from her desk, stood, and came around it. I got up and grabbed my backpack from the floor. She motioned for me to exit the closet-office first. “I’ll see you soon, Callista.” She sounded so sure of herself.

*
* * * *

“Looks like you’ve got company,” Link announced as we pulled onto our street. I’d been so focused on my own thoughts, replaying the events of the day in my head that it took a moment for his words to register. When I looked away from the suburban scenery inching by my window, we were pulling into Link’s driveway. I climbed out of the truck and turned toward my house. Garrett’s silver-turned-gray coupe was parked in front.

Mona and Garrett emerged from the vehicle as I approached. Link tagged along somewhere behind me. He was out of my line of sight, but I could hear his footfalls.

“Hey, girl!” Garrett’s greeting was awful friendly for someone who’d used me as a scapegoat a few hours ago.

Mona, on the other hand, was considerably more contrite, shooting me a sheepish grin and following it up with an unenthusiastic beauty-queen wave. “Garrett’s really sorry he told Easton it was your idea to skip. Aren’t you, Garrett?” And she hadn’t even been there. Link was wrong about her being a bad influence.

Garrett’s puppy-dog exuberance dimmed the tiniest bit
, and for a brief second he actually looked a little remorseful. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I couldn’t have one more strike on my record. Principle Poole told my mom that if he caught me sneaking off campus one more time, I was done.”

“No worries,” I told him blandly as I passed him on my way to the porch. By the time I reached the front door, all three of them were trailing after me. This might have been the first time anyone had willingly followed me anywhere. The realization had me standing a little straighter, walking a little taller.

“What did the wicked witch of the East do to you? Are you suspended?” Garrett was in my house as soon as I was and headed straight for the kitchen. “Got anything to eat? I’m starved.”

Mona stepped in, and Link behind her.

“You ate two burgers and a whole plate of fries three hours ago. How can you possibly be hungry?” I asked as he disappeared into the other room. The refrigerator door squelched open, and Garrett rustled through whatever might be in there. He wouldn't find much.

“Here, you left this in the truck.” My purple backpack was dangling from Link’s hand.

“Oh, thanks.” I took it and set it next to the coat rack. “You know, chivalrous is a good color for you.” I gave him what I hoped was a flirtatious smile. He didn’t return it.

Mona pulled out a box of cigarettes and tipped it open. “Who wants to smoke out?” A thick joint slid out from between the cigarettes to land in her palm. She held it up triumphantly.

Link stiffened. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a lot of homework. I’ll catch you later, Callie.” He planted an insincere kiss on my forehead and edged out the open door.

Mona kicked the door closed behind him. “His loss.”

“Ee-ah, iz woss!” Garrett agreed around a mouthful of Fruity-O’s. He grabbed another handful from the box tucked under his arm and dropped it into his mouth.

*
* * * *

The front door opening was exceptionally loud for some reason, echoing in my brain like a scream off canyon walls. I was so busy paying attention to the way the sound resonated in my brain, I didn’t realize at first that the door had opened because Corrine was home and coming in.

“Someone’s here!” Mona pseudo-whispered.

“Damn, hide the stuff!” was Garrett’s equally loud response.

“Callie, what’s going on?” Corrine was standing over us before we’d finished scrambling to make sure all evidence of what we’d done was off the coffee table and gone from sight.

“Uh
… we were …” I didn’t have a good answer. Corrine wasn’t stupid; she probably already knew what we’d been doing before she got there. The haze of marijuana smoke floating close to the ceiling wasn’t a dead giveaway or anything.

“Don’t bother. I know what you were doing.” She spun on her three-inch, peep-toe heels and went into the kitchen.

“We should probably go,” Mona told Garrett, who looked at the now half-empty cereal box like it was a beloved pet he would never see again.

I grabbed the box and shoved it at him. “Take it with you.”

And just like that, he lit up, taking the Fruity-O’s and practically skipping to the front door. He didn’t even say goodbye before bouncing through the front door, which he left open behind him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” Mona’s exit was considerably more demure.

Once they were gone, I went in search of Corrine.

I found her at the kitchen table eating a slice of cinnamon toast. Dad’s snack. Did she miss him? The idea left me with the faintest sense of betrayal. Like she should hate his memory as much as I did.

I sat down across from her, but not before checking and rechecking my position in relation to the chair. I’d never missed a chair in my life, but at that moment, if I wasn’t extra careful, I could have missed it even if it were attached to my butt. “Are you mad?” I asked the question even though we both already knew the answer.

She carefully put down her toast and brushed the excess crumbs from her fingers. “Mad? Why would I be mad? Because my big sister, who I’ve always been able to count on to make responsible decisions, was getting high with the school slut and Mr. Stoner of the Year himself?”

I snapped back against the chair as if she’d struck me. In a way, she had.

“What’s going on with you, Cal? You never would have dreamed of doing any of this when
…” She trailed off.

“When dad was around to beat me for it?” I sat forward in my seat, preparing to flee if I didn’t like her answer.

She winced. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean?” I challenged.

“Just that … I don’t know. You’re different now. You’re doing things the old Callie never would have done.”

My chair scraped the tile floor as I backed away from the table and stood. “The old Callie is gone, Corri. She died with our father.”