Nets and Lies (17 page)

“Well, let’s just say he decided to pay me a visit.” With what little strength I had left, I raised my shirt out of my jeans. I gritted my teeth and twisted to the right.

At the sound of my mother’s gasp, I knew they’d seen Carson’s handiwork, and I slowly let the shirt fall. Then I fell back against the pillows, exhausted from that small exertion.

“So you’re saying Carson came into school this morning and then assaulted you?” Dr. Micheltree asked.

I nodded.

“But why? Do you have a history with him?”

Before I could answer, Mom replied, “Unfortunately yes.”

“Our history had nothing to do with today,” I insisted.

Dr. Micheltree raised her eyebrows. “It doesn’t?”

I shook my head, trying to find the words to explain why Carson had driven two hours from college to beat the shit out of me in an athletic closet in the gym.

“What was it about, JoJo?” Mom asked.

“Coach T,” I murmured. I glanced at the others who peered anxiously at me. “He’s angry about my accusations towards Coach T. Carson said without Coach T’s connections, his sister wouldn’t get the scholarship she needs. He wanted me to tell everyone I’d been lying.”

Dr. Micheltree sighed. “I suppose this is a matter for the police, considering Mr. Ridings is no longer a student here.”

Mom tossed her hair over her shoulder. “That’s all well and good, but how do you propose to keep my daughter safe?”

Dr. Micheltree held up her hands. “Ms. Bradford we’re trying our best—”

Mom strode across the tiny room to stand in front of Dr. Micheltree. “I’m sorry that I have to say you’re doing a fucking miserable job, lady! I don’t pay tax dollars to have my daughter bullied, beaten, and almost killed.”

“Perhaps Newton isn’t the best learning environment for Jordan at present,” Mr. Sands said.

We all turned to look at him. He flushed a little before nervously clearing his throat. “What I meant to say is it might be in Jordan’s best interest to transfer schools for a period of time. At least until things die down.”

“And where would you suggest?” Mom asked.

“Pathways.”

I gasped. “Are you crazy? I’m not going to that hell hole! Only druggies and bad asses go there.” I stared helplessly at Mom. “I’m
not
one of those kids!”

“Jordan, lots of nice students go to Pathways. Some are merely academically behind, and they find the learning environment is more conducive to their needs,” Dr. Micheltree said.

“Their needs? Like smoking pot or shooting up between classes?” I countered.

She grimaced. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

Before I could say anything else, Mom interrupted me. “So let me get this straight. Basically what you’re saying is you do not have the means to protect my daughter against a hostile environment, and she would be better served at another school?”

Dr. Micheltree glanced over at Mr. Sands before she replied. “Yes, I suppose that’s what we’re saying.”

Mom nodded. She snatched up her purse and threw it onto her shoulder. “All right then. If you’re fully acknowledging you have failed my daughter, then it’s time she left this school.”

“Wait, Mom, no!” I cried.

She shook her head at me before turning back to Dr. Micheltree. “Please withdraw her from this shit hole you call a school, and give me the necessary paperwork to enroll her somewhere else.”

I jumped off the bed and grabbed my mom’s arm. “Please don’t do this! I don’t want to leave Newton.”

“I’m not letting you stay here so you can get paralyzed or killed, Jordan.”

The room began to spin around me, and I started to slide into the floor. Mr. Sands caught me and helped me back to the bed. “Jordan, you take it easy. When everything is taken care of, I’ll come back to get you,” Mom instructed.

I shook my head. “I just want out of here. Can’t I go on to the car?”

Mom waved at me dismissively with her hand. “Whatever.”

As I started to my feet, Mr. Sands brought the wheelchair over to me. “Would this help?”

I stared at it for a minute. I didn’t want my last moments at Newton to be in a wheelchair. It would make me look so weak and vulnerable. All those assholes would win. I’d be slinking off into the sunset to lick my wounds.

“No, thank you, Mr. Sands. I can make it just fine.”

He smiled sadly at me. “All right then, Jordan. Good luck.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.

I must’ve had a pretty bad fall because I found myself returning his smile. “Sorry about all those times you had to call me to your office.”

Mr. Sands seemed just as surprised as I was for my sudden change of heart. He cleared his throat. “That’s all right. Just see that wherever you go, you make a change.”

I shot him a look. “Yeah, whatever.”

Slowly, I gained my footing and started to the door. The office was buzzing with kids bringing in notes and paperwork and checking out. With all the courage I could muster, I pulled my shoulders back, and I walked out of there like I was at the Miss Newton High pageant.

The moment I swept through the double doors into the sunshine, my shoulders drooped in defeat. I’d never imagined anything like this would happen. Driven from my own school. And not just driven—beaten and almost killed. I shuddered.

Mom’s black Lexus was in one of the first parking spaces. I slipped inside. It smelled of her—vanilla with a hint of cigarette smoke. “Vanilla drives a man crazy, Jo-Jo,” she’d always say, with a grin.

When my back hit the leather, I sucked in a painful breath. I fumbled to find the button to recline the seat. Within an instant, I was hidden from prying eyes.

It seemed like an eternity before Mom threw open her door. “Unbelievable,” she groaned, as she tossed several folders in the backseat. I heard her put the key in the ignition, and then we were pealing out of the parking space. “Don’t you worry, JoJo. It’s all going to be okay. You don’t need that school!”

My arm fell away from my eyes, and I stared over at her. “Are you shitting me?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Mom, I just spent three and half years of my life at that school. Up until a few days ago, all my friends went there. Now, I’m just supposed to say, ‘screw em’ and go on?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she eyed the clock on the dash. It was noon. Before I knew it, she was whipping into a parking space at Longhorn’s, my favorite restaurant.

“Come on.”

I rolled my eyes. “Mom, in case you missed it, I was knocked unconscious like an hour ago. I need rest, not a steak.”

“You’re not getting a steak.”

“I’m not?” I questioned.

“Well, you can. But I was thinking about a different kind of fortification.”

Since it was pointless arguing with her, I merely snorted my frustration and grabbed my purse. A few seconds later at Mom’s request we were sliding into a booth away from most of the lunch crowd.

The waitress came over. “And what can I get you guys?”

“I’ll have a Coke,” I replied, as I flipped open the menu.

I assumed Mom would order her typical water with lemon. She did, but she also added, “And I’ll have an Amoretto Sour please.”

When the waitress left, I arched my eyebrows at her. “Kinda early in the day for a drink, isn’t it?”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she quipped with a smile.

“Whatever, Mom.”

The waitress returned with our drinks and took our order. I was about to make a comment on how nice it was to be served instead of serving someone when Mom slid the drink over to me.

“Are you kidding me?”

She shook her head. “You’ve had a helluva week.”

“I was just hit in the head!” I countered.

Mom closed her eyes and then rubbed her temple. “And you were checked over and cleared by the school nurse. A little drink will do wonders to calm you down, Jordan.”

I sighed with exasperation. “Fine.” I glanced around the restaurant, making sure no one was watching, before downing the glass in two long gulps. “Happy?” I asked when Mom looked at me.

“Sure.”

As the alcohol coated my stomach, I shuddered. “I remember another time you brought me to Longhorn and got me liquored up,” I said, after our salads arrived.

“Oh?” Mom asked, as she drizzled a fine layer of Honey Mustard on her salad.

“Uh-huh. It was right before I went in for my abortion.”

Mom gasped and dropped the small dish of dressing. It smashed onto the floor and shattered.

The waitress came hurrying over. “I’m so sorry. It just slipped right through my hands,” Mom apologized.

“Oh, it’s all right,” the waitress, whose nametag read ‘Tami”, assured.

Once the mess was cleaned up, Mom turned her dark eyes toward me. “How dare you mention that today?”

“Why not? It was Carson’s fault both times. I mean, he did knock me up, remember?”

Mom shook her head. “Don’t do this today, Jordan. Please!”

Tami interrupted her pleas. “Can I get you another drink?”

Mom bobbed her head, and Tami headed back to the bar. “If we’re strolling down memory lane, I believe he beat the shit out of you when you told him about the pregnancy, just like today,” Mom said.

I flinched. “Yeah, he did. But you kept saying maybe it was for the best because it would make me have a miscarriage.”

This time when Tami brought the drink, Mom grabbed it up. “Jordan, you were fifteen years old. What was I supposed to say? ‘Sure sweetheart, I think it’s great you’re going to have a baby. Won’t you look sweet at prom with a big belly? And sure I want to be a grandmother at thirty five!’”

I speared the tomato in my salad, watching the seeds and juice ooze out. “Yeah, well, maybe it was wrong of me to have an abortion, don’t you ever think about that?”

Mom closed her eyes as she downed the drink. “Don’t moralize to me, all right? We’ve both made mistakes, okay? I realize I’m not Mother of the Year, but cut me some fucking slack!”

I smeared the tomato around my salad, watching the greenery become a red, slick mess. “You said it would all work out. You said I’d get revenge,” I muttered, under my breath.

“Is this what it’s all about? Him?”

“Maybe.”

Mom sighed. “Revenge doesn’t come overnight, Jordan. It takes time to make someone suffer. You don’t get something for nothing, baby girl.”

I slammed my fork on the table. “So far I’ve gotten nothing but shit because of all of this. My car’s been screwed up, everyone hates me, I’ve gotten death threats on the answering machine, and today,” I shivered, “I was almost killed!”

Pushing her salad away, Mom then folded her hands in her lap. “So what do you want? Do you regret saying anything? Do you wish you’d just let him throw you aside like a used condom or something?”

It was then a slow pounding began in my head. “I don’t know,” I murmured. I brought my hand to my scalp, feeling along the bump. “I just want my life back.”

I glanced up to find Mom smiling sadly at me. “You’re never going to have your life back, JoJo. What we’ve done is done, and now whatever you had is gone.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I snapped.

She reached across the table to take my hand. “Listen to me. You just pitched a bitch fit to stay at a school that doesn’t want you anymore. Baby, I could have told you it was never going to be the same.”

Tears stung my eyes, and for the first time in the past few days, I regretted everything. And in that moment, I knew that if I could have taken it all back, I would have. Just to have my old life again. The life that a mere five days ago was completely different than the hell I experienced now.

“Don’t cry, baby. There are good times for you still out there.”

“Good things come to good people, and I sure as hell haven’t been good.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve and shook my head. I shook my head when Mom started to protest. “Something has to give.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m really serious. Right now, my life could be some pathetic Lifetime movie. I’m only eighteen years old, but I’ve been in an abusive relationship, I’ve been pregnant, and not only have I had an affair with a married man, but I’ve accused him of rape.” I snatched the napkin off the table and wiped my nose. “I mean, if this isn’t the big turning point, I don’t know what else is.”

As the words rolled off my tongue, it sounded like someone else saying them. But deep down I knew it was the truth, and it was almost freeing to say the words out-loud. I mean, anyone could see I had totally fucked up my life, and there was no one else to blame but me. So, in the same token, there was no one else to get me outta the shithole but me.

I didn’t want this darkness hanging over me anymore. I wanted peace and some semblance of a new life. I couldn’t cling to the Old Jordan anymore. I had to become reborn.

Across the table, Mom remained silent. “All right, JoJo, if you’re serious, you know that I support you. We can drop the charges against Coach T. We’ll enroll you at this Pathways school, and you can start seeing my therapist—”