Anywhere But Here (31 page)

“Hey, Rena, there’s not a whole lot I can do but I want you know that I’ll be here for you, if you need to talk to someone,” he said in a quiet voice.

My heart swelled as tears collected in my eyes.  “Thanks, but I’m fine.  It’s not a big deal, right?”

“It
is
a big deal,” he said.  “I know it has to hurt.  This isn’t something you should have to go through alone.  Is there anyone that can help you with this?”

My pride reared its ugly head as disappointment made an appearance.  Of course I figured he’d probably have heard about Roberta sitting with me at his practice and he’d probably heard whatever rumors were circulating abou
t my mental status. But I didn’t need him suggesting that I needed counseling, too.  Wasn’t he supposed to be on my side?

“I don’t need help, Fin,” I said stiffly.  “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Rena,” he pleaded.  “I didn’t mean…”

“What did you mean?” I interrupted, a red fog in my brain.  “You’ve obviously been talking to Gina, huh?  And you believe her, too.”

“That’s not fair,” he said.  “I mean, yeah, Gina mentioned something to me about Roberta Simmons, but I
didn’t
believe her.”

I snorted, all sense of rhyme or reason leaving me.  My experiences in life – granted I had only been around for seventeen years – had shown me that when it comes to gossip, people generally want to believe the bad stuff.  “If you say so.”

“Damn it,” he cursed.  “Look, I didn’t believe her.  I figured it was just another one of her attempts to get me to not date you anymore.  And so what if you are seeing a counselor?  I know sometimes people need help dealing with stuff.  There’s nothing to be ashamed of in that.”

“I. Do. Not. Need. Help,” I stressed.  My anger-demon, always at my side lately, bowed its head and growled, the hair on the back of its neck standing at attention.  I was disheartened that he thought I wasn’t strong enough – that I was so weak.  I couldn’t stand it.

“Okay, I didn’t want to say anything before,” he started. “But I think there’s no better time than the present.  You’ve been different lately.”

“Different?” I exclaimed.

“Maybe that’s not the right word,” he amended.  “It’s just that, sometimes you act as if you’re miles and miles away – that there’s something on your mind that hurts you.  I’ve tried to get you to open up but you get defensive and pull away from me.”  He paused to take a breath and I took that moment to calm my growing anger.  “Rena, we haven’t been together long, I know, but I do like you and I…I do care about you.  I know there’s so much more than just your parents’ problems going on and I want to help but you just won’t let me.”

“I don’t need help,” I said in a low voice, my control slipping and causing my hands to tremble. 

“I think you do,” he said softly.  “And I only say it because I care.”

“No, you say it because you believe everything that tramp, Gina, has to say.  Or, maybe you’re embarrassed by all the rumors going around.  Maybe you can’t stand that the entire school thinks I’m some drunken, screwed up kid.  Maybe you’re regretting getting involved with me in the first place.”

“Not at all,” he said.  It unnerved me how calm he seemed when my anger was fighting for total control of my body – and winning.  “I don’t care what anyone says about you – hell, I’ve been defending you for as long as I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need your chivalry.  I’m not some helpless female stuck in a tower, waiting for a man to save her.  I
can take care of myself,” I said, my jaw aching from the tension.

“If you say so,” he said.

“I do say so,” I said, my voice rising.  His steadiness only provoked my anger like waving a red flag in front of a raging bull.  “So, just butt out.”

My chest heaved as I gripped the phone tighter in my hand, waiting for him to relent and admit that I didn’t need help.

But he didn’t.  He sighed in defeat.  “If that’s what you want.”

“I do,” came my clipped reply.

“Okay,” he said.  “See you around.”  And he hung up.

I hurled my phone across the room and it hit the ceramic ballerina on the topmost shelf making her spin haphazardl
y, as if performing a pirouette. I leapt from the bed, my hands cupped, ready to catch her should she fall.  But she merely tottered before righting herself.  I snatched it, cradling it in my hands as I slid to the floor, suddenly perspiring.  I caught my breath and held the ballerina to my heart, fighting the tears that seemed to lurk in my eyes constantly.  I trained my gaze on my desk, hoping it would chase away the tears, and I spotted the notebook propped against the pencil holder.

“That damn, stupid essay,” I said,
grinding my teeth.  Standing, I stalked to the desk, carefully placing the ballerina next to the lamp.  I tossed the notebook to the ground as I sat in the chair and deleted every word I’d typed. I tapped the desk with my nails as words flew through my head – angry, honest words.  My fingers hovered over the keyboard momentarily then took off as if they had a mind of their own.

Dear Mr. Ellis,

I apologize but I cannot do this stupid essay.  I feel that every attempt I’ve made has been nothing but a big, fat lie.  My family is not wonderful nor is it great and it certainly is not happy. I mean, what do you want me to say?  Do you want the truth?  Well, here is your truth!

My father is a spineless coward who hid from us all and eventually ran out on my mother when she needed him the most.  He’ll say whatever I want him to say so long as he thinks it will make me happy.

Then my mom, well, I can almost see why Dad fled.  It was horrible of him to leave her but on the other hand, she’s totally obsessed with her chat rooms and fund raisers.  She doesn’t speak to us unless it’s about Camille.  She never asks how my father’s day went or how school is going.  She doesn’t even know that I have a boyfriend.  Or had a boyfriend.  But that’s a whole other essay.  Oh, and another thing about Mother Dear, she kicked me out of her house just for speaking my mind.  Can you believe that?  Maybe I should have just left my mouth shut.

Let’s talk about Jared, my big brother.  Where is he, you ask.  Good question.  He has made an attempt or two to connect with me but it’s never come to more than that.  Yes, he did send me his old laptop but I’m beginning to wonder if it was just a sympathy gift.

And last but not least, there’s Camille.  Dear, sweet little sister Camille.  What to say?  Well, she loved ballet, BoyzTown, and for some unfathomable reason, me.  But I let her down.  I bailed on her.  I was selfish and thoughtless and now Camille is no more.  Maybe it’s not just my fault this family is falling apart – maybe it’s partly her fault, too.

The tears were coursing down my cheeks but I didn’t bother trying to staunch their flow.  Without thinking, I saved my ranting essay to my flash drive and shut down the computer.  I eased the lid
closed and stared at it for quite a while before deciding to shower.  I needed to present a normal front to Aunt Franki or else she’d cart me off to Roberta immediately.  And I didn’t want that.  I wanted to prove – had to prove – to everyone that I was fine.  Perfectly normal.  And I wasn’t even lying to myself.

***

I arrived at school with just enough time to visit my locker and get to class.  It was cowardly to avoid Fin that way but I wasn’t sure what our status was and I was in no mood to argue with him.  Nor was I in any frame of mind to see him ignore me.

My morning classes dragged but I was able to avoid my locker as I’d been hauling all my morning books with me.  I even managed to dodge Damon.  But I had no clue what I was going to do for lunch.  Maybe I could hang out in the parking lot…

“Dude, where have you been?” Damon asked as I drifted out of class, toward my locker to deposit my books.

“Class,” I muttered.  I turned the combination lock to the right digits and opened the door.  After I unburdened my books, Damon grabbed my shoulders and whirled me around, concern in his eyes. 

“What’s going on, Rena?” he asked.  “Fin said you two got into a wicked argument and he’s really worried.”

“It’s nothing,” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze.  “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Damon said, shaking me gently.  “You’re not.  You’re falling apart.  I haven’t said a word because I thought Fin was trying to talk to you but he said you clam up and won’t say a thing.”

“Because there’s nothing to say,” I stated.  “Nothing.  Now let me go.  I think I’ll eat lunch in my car.”

“Don’t avoid him,” Damon said.  “He feels awful.”

“Yeah, well,” I said as I wrenched out of his grip.  “That’s his own fault. See you later.”

I felt horrible for snipping at Damon but I didn’t need him getting on my case, too.  I didn’t see why people couldn’t just mind their own business.  If I wanted them to know what was going on, I’d tell them.  It was as simple as that.

I sat in my car, letting the eng
ine idle and the heater run, flipping through the radio stations.  When it was time to go to class, I dashed inside, fetched my books, and ran to Creative Writing.  My heart was thumping not only because I’d have to face Fin but also because I had no assignment to turn in.

Fin was already in his seat when I entered the class and my heart trembled.  I let my eyes linger on him for a moment then forbade them to look at him again.  I settled in my seat and concentrated on Mr. Ellis, blocking Fin’s stiff posture from my peripheral vision.

“Please pass your essays to the front,” Mr. Ellis requested.  The girl in front of me turned to collect my paper but I just shook my head.  She shrugged and handed hers forward.  I avoided looking at Fin, even from the corner of my eye, and kept my gaze straight ahead.

The class dragged on even longer than my morning classes but I kept my cool.  I was proud of my determination as I hadn’t once caved and looked to my right.  I even felt a tiny smile on my lips.

When class finally ended, I quickly gathered my things, eager to get to the door but Mr. Ellis stopped me. My cheeks flamed as my classmates glanced curiously at me – Fin more than the others.  When the room was empty, Mr. Ellis propped his frame against his desk and motioned for me to take a seat.

“Is there a problem?” I asked in an innocent voice.

“You didn’t turn in your essay,” he said.  “I was looking your way and thought maybe you hadn’t so I checked.  Do you have a reason?”

“Um,” I said, a cool sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.  “Yeah, sort of.”

“Well?” he prodded.

“It’s hard,” I whispered.

His brow creased, leaving deep grooves in his forehead.  He bent closer as if he hadn’t heard my reply.  “It’s hard?”

I nodded, studying the faded graffiti on the desk.  “I couldn’t think of what to write.”

I lifted my head to judge his reaction and flinched at his narrowed eyes.  He wasn’t buying it at all so I tried to think up another excuse.

“Rena,” he sighed.  “I know you’re on probation here and the only reason why I’m harping on you about this assignment is because I don’t want this to start a trend. I know that if you slip up, you’ll be expelled and I’d hate to see that happen.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“I’m not a bad guy,” he said with a cheesy smile. “If you’re having a problem, I swear, you can talk to me.  I will keep it confidential.”

I jumped out of the desk, nearly toppling it over.  “Why does everyone seem to think I need help?” I said, voice rising.  “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?  I’m fine.”

Startled, Mr. Ellis blinked slowly at me.  “Okay, calm down.”  His lips pulled into a frown.  “How about this – I’ll give you an extra week to finish it.  Just don’t tell your classmates.”  And he smiled again as if he’d just offered me a full scholarship to an Ivy League school and a brand new sports car.  But I couldn’t complain – at least he wasn’t dragging me kicking and screaming to the counselor’s office.

“Sure. Okay. Thanks,” I said as I picked up my backpack.  “I need to get to class.”

I stormed through the halls amidst snickering and loud whispers.  I wondered how many had heard me blow up at Mr. Ellis. I wondered how many thought the rumors regarding my mental status were founded.  I wondered why I cared.

I plopped down at my desk and rested my head on my arms, not bothering with any homework.  Gina didn’t even try to keep her voice down as she spoke with her friends, the topic of their conversation being me and Fin, of course.

Fin.  My heart shattered when I thought of him.  I had truly missed him all day.  Maybe I hadn’t been fair.  But he just needed to trust me when I told him that I was fine.  My eyes watered again and a few tears escaped.  I let them.  I was too tired to stop them.  I was too tired to care.  I was too tired to fight.

Life was crappy.  It was worse than crappy – it was hell.  I’d managed to get through work Monday night but it sucked big time.  Although I’d prepared myself, I was still upset when Fin didn’t show up after practice.  He didn’t even send Isaiah in to buy a drink for him.  They must have either driven the extra ten minutes to the other convenience store located on the interstate or they managed to get to the small grocery store before it closed.  I supposed that I couldn’t blame him - I’d gone out of my way to avoid him all day.