Between These Lines (A Young Adult Novel) (13 page)

In
fact, I was surprised the details weren’t fully brought up when Headmaster
Whitley called her. My aunt was under the impression that I would go about
attending Whitley like normal, and that I was being called upon to do a favor
for Headmaster Whitley, who handled the issue not only with tact, but with
secrecy, giving Aunt Claudie the impression that I would come out more like a
hero than anything—which made her smile.

“And
this boy is the principal’s nephew?”

“He’s
called a Headmaster, Aunt Claudie. Headmaster Whitley.”

Again,
the tsk’ing sound floated across the console between us. I turned in my seat,
feeling the need to reassure her that it would all work out just fine.

“It’s
because he
is
the Headmaster’s nephew. Shane’s under the impression he
can get away with anything. At least his uncle is doing his job—which is
putting their relationship aside to punish him like anyone else at school.”

Well,
sort of. I did leave out the tiny fact that there was a minor concern about
scandal, but I gave my Headmaster credit for seeing the bigger picture and
wanting to get Shane some help, instead of special treatment.

“I
certainly hope so,” Aunt Claudie uttered a deep sigh. “You’ve been through
enough. I think its best you stay away from those boys.”

Like
that would be easy. Shane and his friends were everywhere around school. They
were impossible not to cross paths with. Furthermore, I was going to need an
excuse in order to get to Jake’s party. Getting out of one deal was hard
enough. Getting out of two would be impossible.

Chapter Eighteen

Evie

“Infractions
go on your permanent record. It’s in the handbook.”

Startled,
I looked up to see Shane’s steel blue eyes, and shuddered, wondering how long
he’d been standing there. Chase had followed a very stern, very tight-lipped
Professor Coleman down and never returned. The last time a student had been
pulled unexpectedly into the

Headmaster’s
office was three years ago, when an upperclassman named Lawrence Eagan was
caught a
rranging the terms
of polynomials
on
the inside of his wrist for Advanced Algebra during his free period on The
Green. Apparently, Lawrence found he was the human equivalent for
x,
and
was expelled.

Shane
looked at his watch and sighed, leaning comfortably against the locker behind
him.

“It’s
not looking good for our friend, is it?”

“Who
said he was your friend?” Shane was up to something. “Maybe he forgot something
in

English
class?” But even I couldn’t kid myself. The look on Prof Coleman’s face had
nothing to do with forgetting a pencil.

“Could
be,” Shane shrugged. Without my asking, he reached into my locker, plucked my
coat from the center hook, and handed it to me. It was a simple gesture that
would have weakened my knees a month ago. It was chivalrous and sweet and would
easily make any girl passing my locker green with jealousy. I took it without
offering a thank you in exchange.

Shane’s
hand cupped my chin, and lifted it. “Hmm,” he crooned. I knew he was studying
his handiwork on my cheek. Fuming, I yanked my face from his hand, slammed my
locker shut and thrust my arms into the sleeves of my navy pea coat, prepared
to high tail it in the direction that would take me farthest away from him.

“You’re
spending a lot of time with that Mitman kid.”

I
wasn’t sure if he expected an answer, because he wasn’t going to get that from
me either.

Everything
I had heard in the upstairs hallway resurfaced to my ears, as if I was still
hiding behind the stairwell partition; his snide tone talking to Jake, words
like acid from his lips – the words that said what I really meant to him.
I’d heard him lash out about others before, but actually hearing him talk that
way about
me,
was indescribable. And, funny that Shane should be here
now, in this very corridor, as I waited for Chase. It was almost as if he knew
. . .

I
knew Shane well enough to understand what he had just said wasn’t an
observation. It was a threat. I spun around, despite my original intentions to
walk away, and glared at him.

“Why
are you here?”

“Why
wouldn’t I be here?” he answered lightly. “You’re my girlfriend. It’s the end
of the day and I thought I’d walk you to your bus.” He stepped a little closer.
“Unless, you’d rather I take you home, I can arrange that.”

Girlfriend
?
So not feeling that
one anymore
. He was playing with me. I was the mouse and he was the cat.
What did that make Chase, the cheese?

“I
need to go,” I blurted out and began to walk away, only he followed me. I bit
down on the side of my tongue and refused to turn around.

At
the end of the corridor was the main foyer, and just beyond that was the
Headmaster’s office, its door still shut. A closed door could only mean something
of significant importance was taking place behind it. I wondered if Chase was
still inside. I wondered what they were talking about, but I couldn’t pause to
listen. Shane was still on my heels. My palms began to sweat as I pictured
Chase sitting in a chair near the big, elaborate desk while Headmaster Whitley
read him the riot act. Deep in my gut, I had a feeling Shane knew why.
 

I
pushed myself into the crowd, hoping to separate myself from my irritating
shadow, and soon, I was in a sea of people, filing out to the buses that lined
up at the front of the school. Daring to turn my head, I scanned over the tops
of everyone around me, positive I would find Shane standing at the top of the
steps watching me, only he was nowhere to be found.

***

Things
were back to normal. I came home to an empty house, thankful not to walk into
another one of Mom’s casual business meetings. Recalling Mr. What’s-his-name’s
seedy stare gave me the willies. It was as if he knew what I looked like naked.
I ignored the feeling and used the time to write my thoughts down about what
was going on in my life while I waited for Chase.

At
4:22, I set my diary down walked over to my dresser, and peered into the
mirror. My bruise didn’t look much better than when I left the house this
morning, despite the makeup.

The
long narrow strip of discoloration that extended to my chin was definitely
darker than the rest, but was easily hidden beneath my hair. I wondered how
long it would take before it truly disappeared. It would go through the stages
of deep violet and black, to blue, then to a sickening yellow green before
returning to skin color again. That could take days. Weeks. No matter how long
it took, I would still be able to see it long after it faded away. I would
always be able to feel the sting of Shane’s hand every time I thought of it. My
cheek wasn’t the only thing wounded last night, that was for sure, and the way
Shane had looked at me today made it feel all the more obvious.

4:27.

I
wondered whether telling Chase about Shane’s secrets today in the library was a
wise decision.

He
would never go and repeat what I had said to Shane . . . would he?

I
was being silly. Of course he wouldn’t.

I’m
being paranoid, that’s all, just paranoid.

The
sound of a car pulling up to the house broke my self-torturous stupor.
Chase
.
But the tires pulled alongside the house and disappeared behind, instead of
parking out front.

I
repositioned my hair to fall smoothly against my face, and went downstairs. It
was pretty unusual for one of my parents to come home this time of day. It
shouldn’t be the case, but it was. Most parents work nine-to-five. Mine were
never predictable. Then, the willies washed over me again as I pictured my mom
and Mr. Make-My-House-Look-Like-A-Museum downstairs.

My
dad, tired and unshaven, let himself into the kitchen. He tossed his briefcase
and keys onto the counter and shrugged himself out of his coat, “Hey, pumpkin.”

I
melted at his words and the way the lines crinkled gently around his eyes then
threw myself into his arms, and gave a long squeeze. A few minutes later he
pulled away and peeked into the dining room.

“Your
mom isn’t home yet?”

Ha!
That was a laugh. When was she ever home?

“Uh,
no, guess I’m on dinner duty. What would you like?” I decided now was a good
time as any to turn away before he noticed anything odd about my face. I walked
to the freezer, pulled it open, and began to take inventory, hiding my
disappointment that Chase was a no show while I pulled frozen broccoli and pork
cutlets from the drawer.

“I’m
sorry, sweetie.”
  

“Sorry
for what? You don’t like broccoli?”

“Only
with cheese on top,” he gave a worn laugh. “No, I’m talking about how much we
leave you alone here.”

Slowly,
I let the freezer door swing closed and pressed against it so the seal would
stick. “Oh, it’s not so bad. I like being by myself.”

“It’s
not okay, so stop defending the situation.”

“I’m
a lawyer’s daughter.” I said with a smile. I watched my dad rest his chin
against the open palm of his hand. He worked so hard to give us what my mother
insisted, even though we didn’t need half of it. Instead it seemed we were in
desperate need of other, much more crucial things… like bonding, family
memories. The good stuff. Outward appearances didn’t matter, no matter how
glorious they seemed. I only wished my mother would come to her senses.

“Why
don’t you put that stuff away and I’ll take my girl out to dinner. It’s been a
long time since we’ve done that, hasn’t it?”

“What
about Mom? Shouldn’t we wait?” I failed to mention how we might starve to death
in the process, since her nights out have gotten later and later.

“No,
just you and me,” There was a glazed sadness to his eyes.

“Dad?
You okay?”

With
a heavy sigh, he forced a smile that nearly broke my heart. “Things could be
better, huh?”

He
had no idea. Just then, I wanted to open my mouth and spill everything. Not
just about Shane and Chase, but about what was happening every day. I looked
him deep in the eyes as I felt mine sting with sudden tears. It was there, the
truth, all I had to do was admit it.

Dad,
Mom’s cheating on you
.

I
just had to say it . . .

His
name is Mr. Gracen.

 
… and let it out.

But
I couldn’t.

Dad
. . . everything Mom does around here is for her: the house, the private
school, it’s only to make us look like we have money. It’s fake, Dad.

And
then, I felt horribly guilty for feeling that way.

I
realized that my dad must know about my mom. It was in the sadness in his eyes,
in the tone of his voice. It was why he wasn’t willing to wait around for her
tonight. He’s known longer than I have. That’s why he spends all those hours
away from her in his office.

So
much was going downhill these days—this week to be exact: mom, Shane. I
took notice of where I was standing. It was the exact spot where Shane had hit
me last night.

I
managed to offer a cheery smile for my dad.

“You’re
so grown up, aren’t you? Well, let’s get ready or we’ll never get there. Meet
me here in fifteen minutes,” my dad announced. Before I could say okay, he was
halfway up the stairs to clean up.

Chapter Nineteen

Chase

The hours
that followed school were nothing short of crazy, and now was the first
opportunity I had to tell Evie how sorry I was for not keeping our plans. It
was late. Way past dinner, but I had a feeling she’d forgive me. It was everything
else I was going to tell her that had me on edge, but I grabbed the phone,
figuring I might as well get on with it.

Texting
would have been easier, but she didn’t deserve a cop-out like that.
 

Twenty
minutes later, I was driving across town to Evie’s neighborhood. Aunt Claudie
wasn’t too pleased with the idea, but I was able to convince her that a paper
on Sylvia Plath still had to be written. This was the path to normalcy,
regardless of what happened this afternoon.

I
pulled up alongside Evie’s house. The windows were awash with a soft glow,
giving a completely different impression than the other night, when they had
been dark and empty. The front porch was lit up too, which I assumed was for my
sake, and I stepped out of the car.

The
conversation I had prepared while driving over suddenly vanished and I grasped
at everything I could to get it back, only it was all jumbled up. By the time I
reached my finger out to press the doorbell, a basic outline of what I was
finally going to say filled my head.