Big Fat Disaster (22 page)

I lower my head into my hands. Her question, combined with everything else that’s happened today, is more than I can take. I burst into tears. I try to talk but I can’t; all I can do is shake my head and bawl.

Mom sits next to me and drapes her arm over my shoulders. “Aw, honey, I’m sorry. You could have told me they didn’t fit.”

“Wh-what—c-could y-you h-have done? You t-told me that we don’t have any m-money. I didn’t think we could buy more clothes.”

“But your jeans were
dangerously
tight, sweetie. Look at your skin…” Without waiting, Mom pulls the gown up and yanks down the shorts’ elastic waistband to reveal the deep red grooves and lines that still remain on my skin. There’s dried blood on some of my stretch marks.

Embarrassment and shame wash over me. I push her hand away and mumble, “I-I’m sorry that I’m such a d-disappointment to you. I wish…you didn’t hate my body so much.” I sob, “I mean, I think I hate it enough for
both
of us.”

The nurse sticks her head in to check on us. Mom waves her away. I duck my head again.

Mom whispers, “Ssh! Ssh, Colby. Not so loud…Oh, honey, I don’t hate your body.” She takes my face in her hands and forces me to meet her eyes. “I just want you to be healthy, and, well, you
know
you’ll never get a boyfriend, looking like this, don’t you?” Her eyes fill with tears. “I wish I knew what to do to help you. I just want you to be happy.” She looks away.

I touch her arm and plead, “C-could you just make me feel like you love me no matter what?…Please? Could you just…love me the way I am?”

Mom closes her eyes and her mouth crumples. She whispers, “Of course,” but she’s not at all convincing.

Leah, Ryan, and Drew are waiting on the Victorian’s front porch when we get home. Even in the semi-darkness, I can see that Leah looks pissed beyond belief.

Ryan hangs back on the porch with his arms crossed tightly, but Drew skitters down the steps and throws her arms around me. “Oh, Colby! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

I feel instantly guilty. “I’m sorry about not meeting you on the bus, Drew, I—”

“That’s okay! Ryan sat next to me and I was fine.” She whispers, “He really is nice, Colby!”

The dogs are covering my legs in wet kisses, and I bend over and ruffle their ears:
anything
to keep from looking at Ryan. I start to follow Mom and Drew back to our trailer when Leah calls, “Um, Sonya, could we speak to you and Colby, please?”

Mom whispers something to Drew, and she takes off around the corner with Charley and Zeeke nipping playfully at her ankles.

Leah grabs Ryan by the arm, yanks him forward to stand next to her, and bites off each word: “Ryan has something to say to you.”
Ah, so she’s angry with him. Thank God it’s not me.

I scrape my bottom teeth over my upper lip and stare at a knothole in the bottom porch step.

Mom begins, “Does this have anything to do with why Colby left school? She won’t tell me—”

Leah cuts her off. “Yes, it certainly does;
doesn’t it
, Ryan?” I force myself to look up. Leah’s eye to eye with Ryan, and they seem to be having a staring contest. Their scowls are mirror images of each other. “Tell Sonya what you did…
now
.”

Finally, Ryan gives the same speech to my mother that he gave to
everyone
in the cafetorium, including the line about Dad possibly being raped and whether it’s rape if the guards don’t hear him say “No.” The thing is, even though Aunt Leah looks ready to pull his head off, he doesn’t
sound
sorry at all.

Leah’s voice is shaking. “I am so incredibly sorry, Colby.” She shoots Ryan a look that could peel paint off walls. “I’m sorry that he hurt you. And, Ryan, I am
incredibly
disappointed that you would tell all those people about what Reese did.”

Ryan blasts, “Wow, Mom, you sound just like Grandpa and Grandma being pissed at you for exposing Dad as the
Grand Poobah of Assholes
.”

Leah looks like Ryan struck her, and I think he’s going to apologize, but instead he shrugs and says sarcastically, “Fine, Mom; you want an apology?” He turns to me and says sarcastically, “Colby, I’m
sorry
that you were so upset that you decided to go for a jog in hundred-degree weather and ended up in the hospital…Then again, that’s a
choice you made
, so I surely do hope that you can get two jobs to help your mom pay the medical bills.” He turns to go inside, but Mom lunges forward and grabs his arm. He knocks her hand away and starts through the front door.

Mom shrieks, “Colby could have died today! Now, it
was
her choice to take off like that, but I hold you responsible for what you did. I want this to end, and I mean right now!” She stomps down the steps like she’s heading for our trailer, but stops, shakes her head, and turns back. Her voice is weary. “I’m
sorry
about what happened on the Fourth of July. Maybe we were wrong to tell you that you shouldn’t have reported your friend. Maybe…
maybe
, we’re even wrong about your dad; maybe he
used
to be a bad person. But I don’t think he is anymore. But it’s not for us to judge; ultimately, only God can judge—”

Ryan blasts, “Jesus H. Christ,
seriously
?”

Mom screeches, “Listen to me! Will somebody please listen to
me
for once?” She balls her fists and it’s pretty clear that she’s not just talking about Ryan interrupting her.

“Ryan, please. Hear her out.” Leah seats herself on the top porch step and reaches for him. He hesitates; she repeats, “
Please
.” He shakes his head in disgust, but joins her.

Mom raises her eyes to the evening sky, then closes them as if in prayer. She nods like she’s gotten an answer. “These last several weeks have shaken me to the foundation of my being. The life the girls and I knew is
gone
.” She snorts, and her shoulders sink. “Having everything ripped away…Reese’s selfishness…the way we’ve been tossed aside…” She locks eyes with Ryan. “If you wished suffering on us because of how you were treated, trust me: You’ve gotten what you wanted.”

She moves to the steps, plops down on the second-to-the-last, and turns toward a rose peeking through the handrail. Head down, she cradles a blossom in both hands. Within a couple of minutes, it’s apparent from her sniffling that she’s crying.

Leah crab-crawls down the steps, wraps her arms around my mom, and holds her tightly. Mom turns toward her, and Leah murmurs words I can’t hear.

Ryan and I lock eyes over our moms embracing, and his expression softens. He hops over the handrail and joins me on the grass. He shrugs, chews his lip, and seems to choose his words carefully. “So…you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Just have to take it easy for a few days. No P.E. class. No midday prison breaks.” I circle my toe around a dead patch of grass.

Ryan finds his own small circle of dead grass and does the same. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, my mom wants me to get counseling. She thinks I’m messed up ’cause I got the shit kicked out of me on the last day of school. The Fourth of July—all that crap everybody said—didn’t exactly help, either.”

I sway a little, and he grabs my arm to steady me.

“I—you may not believe me, but I
am
sorry. I don’t mean to be such an asshole.” His voice wavers. “Who knows, maybe I
am
fucked up, and somebody needs to fix me. Couldn’t hurt to try, right?”

He’s still clutching my upper arm tightly; I shrug it away. “Mom thinks I need help, too. But…not for being shit-kicked.” I glance at my mother and whisper, “She wishes I was anyone but me.”

The next morning on the bus, José hisses “
Pendejo
!” at Ryan, then turns to me, makes a kissy face, and croons, “
Putaaaaa
.” Drew shrinks back in terror, and José laughs. Ryan glares at the back of the bus driver’s head, and Drew buries her face against my side. Tina’s wearing a new-to-her outfit that nobody but me knows is second-hand. Michael Taylor looks like he hasn’t slept at all when he strolls down the center aisle. He mimes taking a drag off a joint and is greeted like he’s Michael Phelps at the Olympics.

We get to school, and Drew takes off for her classroom. I inhale as deeply as I can around the box of Pop Tarts that I snuck this morning before Mom and Drew woke up. I stuffed myself, but I can still appreciate the smell of cut grass because my new jeans allow me to breathe, and eventually my stomach will stop feeling like it’s going to explode. I’ve carefully chosen a shirt that I’m positive won’t attract criticism, and last night, I managed to do my life skills homework in spite of a killer headache.

I had no idea what
Self-Worth Needs
are, so I did an Internet search and came up with an answer:
The need to feel important, capable, confident, respected, and recognized…
I’m about as likely to feel any of these things as I am to be crowned Miss Texas.

I’m starting to think that since nothing unusual happened on the bus, maybe I’m wrong in assuming that everybody in the cafetorium heard what Ryan said about my dad. Then I walk into the building, and my day goes to shit.

Kayley and Kara are by the water fountain in the hallway. Kara wrinkles up her pointy rat-nose. “Hey,
Hallister
, when’s Reese’s trial?”

The Pop Tarts gurgle in my gut and jump toward my throat. “
How
?”

“Um, hellooo, have you heard of the Internet?” Kayley pulls lip gloss out of her purse and rolls it on, watching me the whole time. “That video of him running away with a newspaper over his head was
awesome
.” She narrows her eyes and tilts her head like she’s staring at a painting in a museum. “You look a lot like your dad, you know…what I could see of his face, anyway. The
rest
of his body’s sure not hard to miss.” She hulks up her shoulders and totters from side to side, then bursts into laughter.

Kara grins. “I checked my Facebook page a second ago, and that video has forty-six shares so far. Good stuff.”

She looks to Kayley, who nods in agreement. “Oh, yeah. Quality entertainment.”

It feels like all the blood rushes from my head. “You don’t understand: We didn’t know anything about what he was doing—”

Kayley runs a brush through her hair, checks her reflection in the library window, and spins back to me. “No, Hallister,
you
don’t understand. We
don’t like
your kind of people here. You and your snitch cousin—you’re not native Piney Creekers, and
you’re not welcome
…Wouldn’t surprise me one bit to find out that you’re all Satan worshippers…Like her.” She points at Anna, who has just come out of the restroom.

Anna doesn’t even break stride as she holds up her fingers like devil horns and waggles her tongue, then flips them the bird. Inspired by her bravery, I blurt, “Yeah. Fuck off,
Abercrombie and Bitch
.”

I start to walk away, but there’s a hand on my shoulder. “Come with me.
Now
.”

I turn, and Coach Allison’s beet red face is inches from mine. The pores on his nose are
huge
. I start to speak, but he shoves his palm in my face, turns on his heel, and jerks his index finger toward the office.

My throat feels like there are giant hands squeezing it. Over my heartbeat pounding in my ears, Kara calls, “Later,
Hallister
!”