Don't Forget to Breathe (22 page)

When Henry returned, my legs felt rickety. Holding the boot like a noxious murder weapon, I said, “
You
—you were wearing these— that night— in the graveyard?”

“What the frig, Leo. Practically every guy in school has a pair of those.” Pacing fast, he knocked the boot from my hand. “You’re losing it. Do you really think I gutted Dave and Skipper? Don’t forget I didn’t live here when your mom bit the bullet.”

My tongue clicked free from the roof of my mouth. “Your father did.” His brow pulled together, narrowing his eyes and his lips slimmed.

“How come you didn’t tell me your dad knew my mom?” I accused.

“Because—” His fingers gnarled, he seemed to stifle his exponential temper. “My Dad knows lots of women.”

Henry turned away. He was battling demons, too.

His shoulders de-tensed and flapped an indifferent hand like nothing really mattered. He tucked his shirt tail into the waistband of his trousers. “Martha and I liked the city,” he went on to explain. “She had her
acquaintances
and I had freedom. Dad made me move here after….” He paused, sliding his closet open searching for something.

I finished his statement. “After you got into some kind of trouble?”

“I suck at this…this soul healing junk.” He rifled through a layer of hangers.

“I want to know.”

“No—you don’t.” He pulled out a jacket and put it on. “Let’s go.”

As we bid Henry’s parents goodbye, I looked at Martha. She didn’t appear as frail as I’d originally ascertained. In fact, she’d transferred from the wheelchair to the couch.

“Son,” Ethan said, “can we speak. In private?”

Henry expressed sheer hatred, though relented and tracked after his dad. Vicious undertones soaked into the living room and I shifted from foot to foot,
awkward
.

“Henry causes my Ethan such misery.” Martha’s voice unraveled like a thinning thread. “Always a problem child. We’d hoped Star Hallow would calm him.”

I turned to the emaciated woman.

“Henry is temperamental,” she said. “A bane to my existence.” She seemed to gain strength with each word. “Prone to violent episodes.” Then, as if playing a major Hollywood role, she clutched her chest and panted.

“Do you need help?”

Two hands covered her chest, her eyes closed for a moment and reopened. “I’m fine.” It sounded rehearsed. “I paid your mom a visit once. Did she ever tell you about that?”

Talk about a punch below the belt. “No.”

“It was—unpleasant and undignified. And I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of me.” She dabbed at the corner of her eyes. “Don’t tell Henry I’d been spilling secrets. I’d hate for him to lose his temper.”

When she attempted a smile, I averted my eyes from her trampled face. I didn’t know how to judge Martha James, and why the hell did it matter what impression I had of her?

Henry charged out from wherever they’d been arguing and grabbed my hand. “Ready?” He towed me like a deadweight.

As we passed the hallway Ethan was leaning on the wall. His body resembled that of a broken man, his glasses dangled from his fingertips. At least that’s what it looked like, until his eyes flicked to me. Dark and pernicious.

Once in the car, Henry completely transformed, almost buoyant. He amped up the radio and sung, “Let’s get this party started.”

We zoomed along Westgate like the previous hour never existed. His buoyancy filled me from the inside out. Knotted muscles and nerves loosened, and I knew why. Whatever Henry slipped into my soda had taken affect. I reveled in the sensation. Weeks of shitass anxiety eclipsed behind a masquerade of euphoria. “Have any more weed?” I asked on a whim.

He manufactured a lopsided grin. “It’s about frickin’ time.” He produced a joint from his pocket, offering it to me. “Light up.”

“Just what the doctor ordered.” The chill of the car evaporated and I unbuttoned my coat. I’d decided to go with the flow instead of against the current. “I’m feeling so much better.”

Sooner than expected Henry said, “I’ve driven around the school three times, we’re late.”

“So what?” I leaned my head on the seat, and then rubbed my eyes forgetting about my mascara. “Let’s not go.”

“We’re going,” he said with determination.

“Why’s this stupid dance so important to you?”

He’d parked and swerved his shoulders to look at me. “For once, the hottest girl in school will be in my arms. And I want everyone to see it.”

I disintegrated into a giggling fit. “You’re joking, right?”

“Leo, you underestimate yourself.”

Staggering from the car, the heel of my stiletto punctured a pothole. Prior to spanking asphalt Henry nailed me to his side. “Hey, straighten-up or the teachers will be suspicious.”

“I’m fine.” I gobbled nighttime air like a famished kitten, defragging my brain.

Perceiving Mr. Slepe guarding the dual doors of the gymnasium, I gave an inaudible growl. “Henry, I’m going to the restroom. I’ll meet you back here in a minute.” Grateful for the vacant room, I scanned my complexion in the mirror and groaned, smudged mascara and my hair a pathetic copse. Following a retouch I spied my phone and made a snap decision.

I’d added him to my contacts and pressed his name. It rang three times before he answered. “Leo, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you always think something’s wrong?”

“It’s the only time you call.”

I breathed in. “Henry has a pair of black boots in his bedroom.”

“I can’t get a search warrant for every house in the village,” Detective Dyl mumbled into the phone.

“You should check them out. His father knew my mother. Did you know that?”

Silence.

I thought I lost the signal and asked, “Are you there?”

“Are you at the dance with Henry?” His voice came through with a strange flinty edge.

“Yes, we just got here.”

“Be careful. I’ll see what I can do.” Devoid of paraphrasing he hung up.

I walked out of the restroom and collided with Henry.

He suggested, “Let me hang up your coat.” Coat racks had been placed in the schools hallway and he located a free hangar and mashed our coats into the disorder. Together we wandered to Mr.Slepe and Henry handed him the tickets.

“You kids are over a half-hour late.” Mr. Slepe stared into my eyes and then Henry’s. “Have you been drinking?”

“Of course not, Mr. Slepe,” I said more astute than I felt. “Do you remember when my mom was chaperoning last year? It was the last time I’d seen her laughing and dancing before…” I sniffed, wiping a hand under my nose.

A strip of pink materialized on his cheeks, he nodded. “Go on in, Leo.”

We penetrated a throng of pandemonium. Music pumped into the gym overriding the bellowing laughter and loud talking. Rectangular tables and chairs lined the outskirts of the shellacked floor, leaving a wide center-space for dancing. The dance floor now clogged as students demonstrated their moves.

A range of seconds passed before I zeroed in on Becket dancing with Marcy. Infallibly groomed and a total dreamboat, an indigo sweater adorned broad shoulders which complemented the color of his eyes.

Henry linked his arm through mine, conducting me frontward. Circuiting chairs and tables like a pair of clinging snakes, I tossed my purse on the nearest surface.

“You’re taller than me in those high-heels,” he said while engulfing me with his arms.

Finding his statement funny, I snickered and voiced like a vamp, “The better to see you with, my dear.”

“You look great by the way.” He brushed the tip of his nose to mine.

“Leo, where the heck have you been?” I heard during the final stanza of the song. “I’ve been calling and calling. Why are you ignoring me?”

I turned to face an irate Nona.

“We can talk later,” I said somewhat rueful and hugging Nona under his arm, a jaunty Reggie. “Hey, Reggie, how’s it going? Nona’s swanky tonight, isn’t she?”

His eyes left mine and reversed to his date. “That’s my babe. One swanky lady.” He pressed Nona tighter. “I’ll be right back, babe.” He pecked a kiss on Nona’s cheek and in an amiable gesture tweaked my nose, wholly ignoring Henry.

I shed a sidelong glance to Henry; he wasn’t fond of Reggie either.

“C’mere I saved two chairs.” Nona gestured for us to follow.

“Leo, I’m going to get us something to eat.” Henry’s thumb glided over my knuckles. “I have the munchies.”

“Me too, bring some back.” As Henry walked toward the refreshment table I registered Nona’s analytic gaze.

“You using again? See, that boy’s not good for you.”

“No grief, Nona,” I said. “I’m trying hard to get through this night. Let it go for now.”

Her bottom lip pouted.

I bustled close to her ear. “We’re nowhere near Marcy and Becket are we?”

“Girl, do you think I can keep those boys apart?” Frustrated, she shook her head. “You’re forgetting, Leo, this is my first dance with Reggie and I want it to be special. Reggie nixed the table by the dance floor to sit way the heck back here with Becket and Marcy. Do you think that makes me happy?”

I felt like such a creep, always thinking of myself. “I just don’t know what Henry will say when he sees Becket.”

“Henry has to deal with it.” She sounded exasperated. “Grace came without a date. Maybe there’s some way we can hook them up.”

“That’d be nice. But Henry’s not that bad. He’s looking better and better every day, don’t you think?”

“What the hell. You’re high, don’t be giving me that bull.”

“I am feeling really, really good right now. Let’s dance.” I clutched her wrist and hauled her into the mix, putting an end to her squawking. The impelling tempo sent us in motion. Any and all my inhibitions dispelled like a feather on a breeze.

My body kept the beat, however, Nona was the dancer. I liked to mimic her gyrating torso, and we giggled trying to outdo the other. The overwhelming drug had stayed the course, distorting my vision. The world revolved upside down and right-side up. Happy again. No thoughts, just the rhythm, music, and laughter.

Five songs later, Nona breathed heavily, “Let’s sit.”

“No. Not yet.” Swaying with the beat in my head, I grasped her arm. “Stay with me.”

“It’s a slow song, anyway. I’m going to get Reggie.”

Words flew by my ears, “I thought I’d never get the chance to hold you.” Strong arms swallowed me and I curled into Becket’s chest.

Unlike Henry, I had to tilt my head to gaze into his faultless face. “Hi, Becket. You’re looking good. How’s Marcy?”

He smiled with irresistible warmth. “Let’s not go there.” He fingered a loose strand of hair that had fallen over my eye. And his fingers glided over the sensitive nape of my neck. I inhaled him as he drew near, his hair brushed my cheeks. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

I melted like butter over fire as his hands molded me into him. It took a moment for his words to register. “I bet you say that to yall the goirls.”

“Are you alright?” He pulled back and examined my eyes.

“Don’t I look alright? You just said I was ‘credible bootiful.”

“You’re slurring. And your eyes. Are you wasted?”

“Becket. I’m…I’m…messed—” My ankle twisted, and I would’ve fallen, but he held on to me.

He slowed our lazy sidestepping. “I’m taking you home.”

My arms circled his neck like a life preserver and stared at his tormenting lips. “No, you can’t do that. I came with Hen-nery. He’ll take me home when I’m good and ready.”

“Is he alright to drive?”

My eyes traveled from his mouth to his impeccable eyes, but they merged into an eye of a Cyclops. “You have one big eyeball.” I giggled, then to make him jealous I said, “I don’t think we’re going home.”

“What’d you mean?”

“Are we dancing?” The floor tilted.

“Leo.” He sounded like steel. “What do you mean you’re not going home?”

I tried focusing on his big eye. “’Member, Lucien’s place…”

All of a sudden, someone plunged into Becket; two bodies tumbled to the floor leaving my arms empty. Everyone scattered. Girls screeched, and I unsteadily stood there, thunderstruck. Henry was all over Becket like tar paper. Becket recovered from the blindsided tackle, reeling in Henry’s flailing fists with one hand. Then caging his other arm around Henry’s waist, they stumbled to their feet.

“I don’t want to fight you.” Becket liberated Henry with a jerking thrust.

Kids fenced them in.

“She’s mine, Kane. Leo’s with me.” Glasses askew on his nose, Henry’s face warped in strife. “You have no right to touch her.” Like a linebacker, he rammed into Becket with his shoulder. Henry, not nearly as equivalent in height or strength, Becket rooted his feet to the ground taking the full brunt of his burden.

Becket propelled Henry to the floor.

Henry gasped like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Behind his lenses his eyelashes fluttered. I started for him, but Becket blocked my path.

“Stop.” I placed my hand on his chest, holding him off. “You’re hurting him.”

“I didn’t start this.” He sheltered an arm over my shoulder. “He’s in no condition to take you home. Let’s go before the teachers nab us.”

A shout spurted from Henry, “Blow me, Kane!” From the edge of my vision, I saw him climb to his feet. It happened so fast, yet, as if in slow motion.

Henry lurched, smacking Becket in the upper arm. What no one could see was the small jackknife. The threads of Beckets sweater flooded crimson.

“Becket—” breathy, his name passed my lips. “Becket.”

Pain slashed across Becket’s face. He strapped his arm, and his fingers came away liquidy red.

In a nightmarish haze, I had no choice but to comply as Henry seized my arm, jogging us from the gym. I wondered where the chaperones were and what was happening to Becket. The car door snapped and Henry flung me onto the seat and raced behind the wheel.

Coatless and in shock, iciness bled into my skin creating spikes of goosebumps. The car smoked from the parking lot and I finally looked at him. In subtle dimness, he concentrated on the road ahead, hovering over the wheel. He seemed lost in his own mind of discord.

“Henry.” My teeth chattered. “Wha…what did you do?” The image of Becket and blood repeated like a skipping record in my mind. “You stabbed him. You stabbed Becket.”

The airy hum of the heaters rushed into my ears, though, not squelching the frost that encased my bones. He evaded Terrace Circle, detouring through the outskirts of Star Hallow. “Henry, we have to go back. Where are you going?”

When he eventually sought my eyes, a parade of emotions marched over his face. “I…I’m screwed.” We heard the drone of sirens.

“You have to take me home.” I recognized the back route and knew where he was heading. “Henry, you can’t hide there.” He crossed into the middle of the intersection and made a sharp right. The screeching of metal on metal and sparks jettisoned underneath the cars chassis. My body joggled as the wheels trundled over railroad ties.

On the east side of the tracks was the preliminary section to Hallow Saints Cemetery. He traversed further ahead, then yanked the wheel to the left. The car nosedived over the berm into a field of brambles, trees, and shrubbery.

“Watch out for the tree,” I yapped, pointing. “You’re not going to make it through this.”

Skidding out of control, the tires became entrenched in mangled brushwood, strangling the axel. Henry cranked the gear into park, turning off the engine.

“Get out,” he barked.

The gravity of our plight sent my worthless functioning body into overdrive. I pushed on the door, it budged a few inches as twigs clawed at the metal frame. “Henry, I can’t get out.”

“Come over to my side.”

My legs and butt shunted over the center console into the driver’s seat. He held out his hand and took me into his arms. There was a breath of space between our mouths. “Let me go,” I scolded into his face.

“This way.” He rotated, paying little heed to my distress and yanked my arm.

With each miserable step, my heels burred holes into the ground, making my trek hazardous and dawdling. Undergrowth grazed my legs as Henry’s fingers dug into my forearm, steering me onward. We made it to the gazebo. My heels clunked on the wood as he continued lugging me. I quenched my starving lungs and tried to contain the nightmare jogging my senses.

Henry’s cell rang. He slowed to fish into his pants pocket. I peeked at the bright screen, his father. He ignored the call. Less than a minute and his cell buzzed again, this time the screen said Dyl.

“Everyone’s looking for us,” I said, and thought of my only form of communication. My phone was in my purse still on the table at school.

By the light of the moon, we managed to tread upon the ornamental slate pathway that encompassed the mansion. Overrun with nettling greenery, my heel snagged a vine sending me to my knees. A stinging pain laced into my thighs as Henry wrenched me off the path toward the house. We huddled together and watched a spotlight scour the ground and then disappeared.

“What the hell?” Henry said, confounded.

“Detective Dyl told me to stay away from the mansion. Police are going to be patrolling the Court.” Sticking his arm around my shoulders, we inched far enough to perceive rear headlights vanish around the corner.

“They’re gone,” he whispered.

We scampered to the front and stopped. A new, shiny metal chain had been reattached to door.

“Think we can get in through the back?”

“Not a chance.” I pushed at his adhering hold lacking luck. “That’s been boarded and bolted for as long as I can remember.” Henry had muted his cell, but persistent vibration in his pocket was noticeable. “It would be better if we—”

“Stop talking!” He shoved me over the porch. “Walk over to our hole.”

“They boarded that up too.” He pushed me again, and I headed around the far corner of the mansion.

“Stand back.” Exhorting the heel of his shoe, Henry thwacked the planks. When they didn’t break, he booted it again and again. The weatherized planks surrounding the newly applied panel finally splintered. “You first.”

“Henry, please—” He grabbed my waist with one arm and with the other cupped the top of my head and funneled me through the broken gap. The thigh-high dress hampered my climb, and slivers of wood tore the material as I plunked onto the inside floor like a whale.

“Why are we here?” My eyes blinked into the dark room.

Henry, right behind me walked to the couch and slithered his hand under the shawled cover. He withdrew a heavy duty flashlight and dispersed the blackness. “I bought this a week ago and left it here just in case.” The glazed lenses veiled his eyes. “It’s important that I explain.”

“Explain?”

“C’mon.” He signaled with the light. “The cops might come back.”

“Go where?” I didn’t understand.

Henry shored up my left elbow and I believe for my stilettos sake he progressed at a measured pace up the stairs. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said, holding the flashlight in his left hand, shining it on the stairs. “I went berserk when I saw you in Kane’s arms.”

Wary of setting him off like a stick of dynamite, I remained taciturn.

“My father says I was born with this wrath inside of me. He blames my druggie mother. He said I inherited her psychosis. Even when I was an infant, he said my tantrums were off the wall. When I was five, my father said she committed suicide.”

We engaged the third story landing and he flipped the light to his face, he looked ghoulish. “I never believed she committed suicide,” he said.

“Why don’t you believe him?” While clarifying his neurosis, did Henry think I’d feel empathy after he stabbed Becket?

“Because—
he
killed my mother.”