Gone From Me (17 page)

I’m not sure how to bring that up, and I don’t have to.

“I didn’t know about my dad.” He shakes his head. “I’m—I can’t believe—”

“Don’t, Kyle.” I lean away. A noise gurgles from the back of my throat. This is a touchy subject.
Because I know what I saw. Without a doubt. I glance at his face, see the blatant pain. And more. He wants to keep his father’s name clean. Stuart called Kyle’s father a dirty cop. I sense those words hurt Kyle deeply. And I’ve added to it by saying his father killed my parents. But I can’t deny what I saw.

Kyle nods, grinds his teeth, tenses his jaw. The letters are all in a pile and he picks them up, places them in my arms. “We still need to practice later. See you around five?”

My mouth opens like that of a gasping fish. I watch him walk away and think about shouting at him to stop. I wish I could say something, anything to make him stay. Go back to kissing. Having him sing to me. But I can’t find the words.

“Don’t leave,” I finally
eke out, but it’s too late. He’s already gone.

29

Maddie

Turned On Its Head

I walk slowly back to my room. Gina isn’t around and I breathe a sigh of relief. Not because I don’t want to see her. Quite the opposite. I really do. But I need to think, spend some time alone with my thoughts. Also, I need to get my ass in gear. I’ve missed a lot of classes.

Before anything els
e I stuff the letters in the bottom of my garnet bag. It holds my piano recital dress, which is a black cocktail sheath. The material is silk shantung and it’s sleeveless. A dress for all occasions. My aunt spent a lot of money, and I love it. I’ll wear it to the Winter Gala in a few months. Until then it’ll remain in the bag, unused. The letters will be safe there. 

I quickly shower
and change into jeans and a white t-shirt. Throw on a coat, grab my books, and head to Bitchy Spears' office. I need to discuss my late assignments and hopefully get an extension. After I speak with her, I’m going to speak with my Biology, Math, and Government teachers. Thanksgiving break is coming up, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to catch up on all my work over the holiday.

Outside the sky i
s thick gray, heavy with promised moisture. It smells like snow. The hint of white flakes swirling in the air, covering everything with a chilly touch, adds a little jump to my step. I’ve always loved the powdery white stuff. Clumping it into balls and building snowmen. My aunt and uncle have snowmobiles, and since my uncle is the owner of Sugar River’s country club, we take the snowmobiles to the golf course and cruise around for hours. Across acres of open space. My aunt’s favorite pastime is to chase my uncle and me around the course. It’s the one time when I really see her let loose. She’s like a whole other person behind the wheel of her snowmobile. Her helmet even says
Wild Child
along the sides.

I wrap my arms around my light pink jacket. I’ll need to bring my winter coats, boots, hats, and g
loves back after break. What I have now soon won’t be enough. Possibly even after today. Because once the snow settles on the wintery Wyoming ground, it’ll stay until late spring.

M
s. Spears’ office is in the Mikesell Building. I’m about to knock on her door when a student bursts out. His face is flushed and he looks like he wants to punch someone. I step back, flustered. He blows past me. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it with that bitch,” he says, his voice a steely whisper.

I blink several times, shocked. But I know he’s right. Since the first day of class she’s made it clear she won’t take any shit.

I peek inside. Ms. Spears is at her desk. Her laptop is open. I knock. She doesn’t look, but says, “Miss Martin. I wondered when you’d show up. Come in.” A cheery smile breaks over her face. It’s too happy. Too sweet. Like thick syrup over pancakes. “Close the door.”

I do. Sick foreboding fills my gut.

“Sit.” She indicates a chair. When I’m situated, she says, “I haven’t seen you in class. What’s going on?” She leans her arms against her desk, waiting expectantly.

I clear my throat, and cross my feet at the ankles.
“I was sick,” I say quietly, looking down, hoping that’s enough, but knowing it isn’t.

She doesn’t respond
, and I wonder what she’s thinking. I glance up, and she’s staring, her eyes hooded with interest. “You must realize I’m not an idiot. You’re on scholarship, which means you know how to work, to study.” She sighs, leans back in her chair. “But I also remember what it’s like to be a freshman in college. It’s like the world is turned on its head. Everything is shiny and new. At least at first. Soon enough you’ll realize college is cutthroat. Succeeding here will give you a much better chance to succeed in life.” She glances at her computer. Taps some keys. “You have three assignments due immediately. I’ll give you through the break to get them finished and turned in. But you better wow me, and I mean make them spectacular.” She leans forward, her eyebrow raised. “When you think it’s perfect, that’s when you know you’ve just begun.” She nods and leans back, finished. “You may go.” She waves one manicured hand at the door.

I’m in shock. Aside from her little speech, I feel like I got off easy. “
Th-thank you, Ms. Spears.”

I place my hand on the doorknob.

“I know what’s going on between you and Mr. Hadley. I hear things.”

My heart stops. Is she saying what I think she is? How can she know what’s going on? That’s private. I’m about to open the door, when she drops the bomb.

“He’s quite remarkable in bed. Knows how to make a woman feel like there’s no one else in the world. But, like his dad, he isn’t good for much else. Be careful.”

I gasp, and turn to her. “What?” It’s all I can get out.

Her arms are crossed, and she has a smirk plastered on her pouty red lips. A wicked gleam in her eyes. “If you repeat what I’ve just told you, I’ll deny it and fail you immediately. No amount of pretty piano playing will let you keep your scholarship.” She stands and pats my shoulder. Her features turn melancholy. “I’m telling you this for your own good. Don’t trust him.” Her words are like snake bites. They twist and writhe inside my brain, puncture my heart.

I pull open the door and run.

30

Maddie

Tattooed To My Brain

I can’t get Ms. Spears
' words out of my head. They seem to swell and grow. I’m sick inside. At the idea that Kyle slept with that woman. Isn’t that against school policy? And just in general. Sure she’s physically attractive, but her insides are like gasoline. My stomach twists with disgust. As hard as I try, I can’t stop the thoughts of Kyle doing to her what he did to me. I run into a bathroom and dry heave. The world spins and I realize I need to eat.

After rinsing my mouth, I make my way to the cafeteria. Punch in my code and grab a turkey sandwich. It’s an odd time of day, so it’s rel
atively empty. Just a few other students. I sit at my little table, the one I’ve sort of claimed as my own, and stare out the window at the gray sky, and the stark landscape. The clock on my phone tells me it’s almost five. I text Kyle.

Can’t make it tonight.

Immediately he texts me back.

Why? We need to practice.

I stare at the words. He’s right. It’s important we practice. The president of the college will be at the Winter Gala, as will all of the other department heads. If we don’t play beautifully, they won’t renew my scholarship. But I can’t see him.

Sorry.
Way behind on schoolwork. Still need to speak with three more professors. Tomorrow.

Fine.

I finish my sandwich and chug an entire glass of orange juice. Then go bac
k to the room. Gina still isn’t here.

My room is
cozy. I’ve even come to appreciate Gina’s music. I should probably do laundry though. I could wait another week, and take them with me back to my aunt and uncle’s. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She was even grudgingly happy when she found out I had a phone. Of course I didn’t tell her who gave it to me. Gina’s clothes need to be washed as well. I wonder what she’s doing for the break? Maybe she’d want to come with me.

I text Gina.

You okay?

I wait several minutes, and then text again.

Gina?

Ten minutes pass, and she still hasn’t responded. I can’t help but be concerned. Especially after the way she acted earlier. To distract myself I go to my closet and unzip the garment bag. I take out a letter. Zip up the bag and flop down on my bed.

The letter’s
dated June 13
th
, 2011.

Dear Maddie,

I graduated. It’s official. I’m no longer in high school. It feels weird. Like now I’m an adult or somethin
g. I wish I could see you, talk to you, but I have a feeling you won’t even read this.

Shit. It’s killing me not to be able to talk to you. I don’t understand why you won’t respond to one letter.
One! What did I do that was so wrong?

My father died
. He’s dead! Killed in the line of duty. Shot in the head. A couple of guys at the precinct told me his death was like an execution. There was an investigation, but nothing was discovered.

Death benefits for the Chief of Police’s offspring
, yours truly, aren’t bad. I receive a monthly stipend from the state. They are also paying for college. It’s appreciated, helps a lot, but doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone.

And I hear things.
From kids at school. Another reason I’m so damn happy to be graduated. If I never see the inside of BS HIGH SCHOOL again, it’ll be too soon.

The rumors say my dad was crooked.
Into drugs. Shady dealings with the local mafia. One girl even told me he approached her to sell drugs at the school. He told her either she sold the drugs or went to juvie. As soon as he died, she quit. I don’t know what to believe. I can’t imagine him doing the things I’ve heard, but I also know he could be a complete ass.

He wasn’t around a lo
t. And when he was… well, you know. He could be difficult. Still, not a drug trafficking murderer.

My dad
tossed around the football with me once in a while. Gave me a beer. Laughed at random TV shows I liked to watch.

If that’s why you won’t talk to me, I wanted you to know. He’s gone. And I’m sorry.

What are you doing this summer?

I’m going to Mexico with my aunt and uncle and my cousin.
We’ll be there at least a month. My cousin says his dad has business there, but that he and I will get to hang at the beach every day. I’m going to learn how to surf and hopefully not get eaten by a shark.

If I stop sending letters, you’ll know why.

Maddie. Maddie. Maddie. I have all of these feelings inside. For you. I’m not sure if it’s because you won’t talk to me and I’m making stuff up in my head. Or if I’ve felt this way since before you left, but didn’t recognize it.

Remember when you and I made the pact
to be each other’s first? I kept that promise for a long, long time. But it happened. An alcohol buzz can make a person’s needs change. And I’ve been drinking a lot. Had more than my fair share. That’s for damn sure.

Forgive me for that too.
And if you don’t read this letter, then I guess it doesn’t matter.

Kyle.

I read the letter several times. So many, many times
until it feels like it's been tattooed to my brain. I’m devastated for him. That he had to go through so much. A part of me wishes I could go back in time and help ease his suffering. But I’m not sure how things would’ve played out had I stayed. I might’ve hated him after a while. Seeing him play football with his dad in the yard, knowing my parents are buried in the cemetery, and won’t ever play again. I don’t know that we could’ve remained friends. I’m not sure I could’ve looked at him, day in and day out. Watching his father walking around as though he’d done nothing wrong. Living.

In
a lot of ways it was better I didn’t see Chief Hadley. His absence made life if not bearable, then at least manageable.

I fold the letter, and put it back in the envelope
, then stick it in the garment bag and pull out another. I cut open the envelope, and am about to pull out the letter when Gina walks in.

She looks haggard. Her makeup is smeared, and her clothes are a mess.

“Hi,” I say, edging off the bed.

She barely acknowledges me.

“Gina?” I say her name like a question. “What’s going on?”

She seems tired, a
nd I’m a little bummed. I want to talk to her about Kyle. A lot’s happened. But she pulls her pillow over her head. I sigh. Pick up my books, pull on my jacket. “If you feel up to it, I’ll be at the library. Come by.”

The library is deathly quiet. About twenty feet from the entrance is the main desk. It’s large and rests in the shape of a half circle. An elderly lady with curly white hair and cat's-eye glasses hanging from a chain around her neck is working behind it. There is an additional information desk in the Law section, and another upstairs in the Classics section. That’s where I’m heading. Bitchy Spears said
make it great
, and I have this idea to do a comparison between the themes portrayed in The Great Gatsby and the current state of America.

I climb the steps, hanging on to the wood railing.
At the top is a large landing. Oak desks are aligned with the bookshelves. No one else is around. I make my way over to the shelf containing the book I’m looking for. It’s on the very bottom. There were three copies the last time I looked. Now there’s only two. I pull it from the shelf and am about to stand when I hear whispering.

I freeze. The voice sounds familiar, but I don’t know why.

“I don’t care what you told her. You need to stay away from her.”

There’s a response, but the voice is too low. I can’t tell what is said, or even if it’s a mal
e or female. The sound is barely muttering.

“Revenge is a difficult pill to swallow. Don’t think I don’t know that, but you can’t let her figure out the truth.”

More whispering.

“I’ll discuss it with my uncle.”

Then it’s quiet. I stand slowly. My heart is pounding rapidly. I want to run, but I’m trapped. I’m thinking the voice I recognize belongs to Evan, Kyle’s cousin, but I can’t be sure.

After several minutes I peer out the side. Evan is standing there, his hands on his hips, a strange look in his eyes. “What are you doing up here, Pudgy
Mudgy?”

I hate that name
even more than my real one, and can’t believe he’s using it. I hold the book up in front of me, like a shield. “I came for this.”

He sighs
and walks forward.

My body is trembling. There’s something about the way h
e moves, the way he places one foot in front of the other. His actions remind me of something. Of another time. But I can’t recall when.

Ev
an tucks his hands in his back pockets. “You always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I suck in a breath. What is he saying?

He turns, and walks toward the stairs. Before he starts down, he adds. “That habit can get a girl in trouble.”

Then he’s gone.

My body is shaking uncontrollably. He threatened me. And it wasn’t even subtle. I pull out a chair and sit.

What do I d
o? What can I do? And why did he behave that way? I’ve never done anything to him. I don’t really know him. Whatever his reason, I don’t have the answers. Not yet. And I have work to do.

Grabbing my stuff, I
head down to the computer rooms. I pick the first room that’s empty and close the door. It doesn’t lock though. There are two chairs inside. I take one and place it under the doorknob, copying what Kyle did to the doorknob in the music room yesterday. It makes me feel a little better—a tiny bit safer.

I pull out my cell. Stare at it. I want to talk to Kyle, tell him what’s happened, b
ut I’m not sure how to approach the topic, what to say. Evan is his cousin. They’re family. I know that means something to him. And who am I? What am I to him?

I am no one.
I am nothing.

If it came to choosing me or choosing his family, there would be no reason to pick me. I stare at the phone. I stare at it for what seems like hours.

Finally I text Gina.

I’m worried about you.

I wait an eternity for a response that doesn’t come. I work on my paper. Type, edit, use parallels between the present and the time written about in
The Great Gatsby
. When I’m finally happy with it, I look at the clock on my phone. The library closes in five minutes.

I still haven’t read the next letter, and I pull it from my pocket. It’s short.
A total of seven words.

Dear Maddie,

I love you.

Always,

Kyle

I glare at it until I notice droplets of water falling onto the paper. I touch the wetness with my fingers and realize it’s coming from me. I’m crying.

It’s been a long time since I cried.

Th
e elderly librarian knocks on the door. Scares the shit out of me. I scream and practically fall off my chair. She’s looking at me through the window, tapping on her watch.

“
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”