Charming (10 page)

aley parked the truck out front instead of in the driveway, anything to keep the rumbling engine noise away from Dad. She snuck in through her window to avoid running into him, to avoid ruining the high flowing through her bloodstream.

Chris held Haley’s hand.

Chris talked to Haley like a human being, treated her like a human being,
wanted
to be seen with a girl who fell from grace, and actually seemed relieved by her presence. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought?

Carefully removing the dress, Haley got ready for bed, a weightlessness carrying her from the closet to the dresser. She slipped into a pair of pajama pants and a tank, then crawled onto the squeaky mattress, hugging the soft, downy pillow.

Her hand caught the edge of something sharp, something square and oddly like paper, something that made her turn on the light. Another note. Grinning, Haley tore it open.

“You’re welcome ☺“.

For the first time in two years, Haley knew she was about to fall asleep without crying, without fear and loneliness eating her alive. The last time she felt this good, this free, was… Haley dug into her memories while staring at the ceiling, trying to find something, but nothing compared. Because, before Mom died, she’d never experienced real pain. She’d never suffered long enough to appreciate good things. Now? Now Haley had suffered enough for multiple lifetimes, for multiple people.

The love she thought she had for Niles couldn’t even compare. Sure, Haley sat on top of the world then, queen of Berkshires, of Deerfield, star freshman at the Academy, plenty of money, power, everything she needed and then some. But, now without Mom, when happiness was a ghost and Haley a chaser, she knew nothing with Niles was true, and none of that money or power were permanent.

Yeah. Having a sister trying to be good meant so much more, having a Dad—nope, he still couldn’t make her happy. Even if the man checked into rehab and apologized for the next ten years, Haley would still have a hard time with him. But Joce… “sweet, naïve Joce.”

Haley woke up refreshed the next morning, stretched her arms and legs, then slipped from bed to get dressed. Lots of chores to do. She threw on a pair of old jean shorts and kept on the pajama tank, dabbing makeup on her bruise before leaving the room.

The house was empty, quiet; the only sounds crackled from the baseboard heaters and the refrigerator kicking on.

“Hello?” Haley crept from room to room, trying to find Dad and Joce. “You guys home?”

Soft sobbing echoed from the bathroom, but the door was open and no one was inside.

“Jocelyn? Are you here?”

“Bathroom.”

Confused, Haley entered the sterile room with mini-white tiles from floor to ceiling, as nice as a truck stop. “Where?”

“Tub,” Joce said, sniffling.

“Oh.” Haley pushed the pink-striped curtain aside and took in the sight of Joce curled into a ball, trembling, a box of tissues next to her, with at least fifty wadded up and scattered about the porcelain. “Oh, Joce, what are you doing in here? Did something happen?”

“Go away.” Joce wailed. “Just go away.”

Kneeling, Haley grabbed Joce’s shoulder, rubbed it gently, and said, “Not until you tell me what’s wrong. Did something happen to you last night? You didn’t show at the party.”

Joce sat up and wiped her eyes with a new tissue, red, puffy swelling destroying the innocence Haley gave up her youth to protect. “You went?”

“Yes. Thank you so much, Joce. I really had a good time.”

Trembling helped Joce’s bottom lip escape the clutch of her teeth. “You’re welcome.”

“Would you mind getting out of the tub and talking to me?” Haley asked, rocking back to stand. “Maybe drink some hot chocolate or something?”

Joce nodded, a cue that she was coming around, improving this funk.

The girls sat at the kitchen table, hands clasped around warm mugs of steaming hot chocolate, little marshmallows floating at the top and melting. Jocelyn stared into her drink, avoiding eye contact, keeping up the same routine from the past week.

“So, what’s going on with you?” Haley asked, unable to handle the silence.

“Lame date.” Joce shrugged. “He refused to go to the party after dinner, kept trying to get me to do things I had no desire to do.”

“Like what? Are you okay? Do we need to call the police?”

Joce shook her head, a pool of wetness building in her eyes. “No. That would only make things worse.”

“Make things worse? Joce, if someone’s hurting you—”

“Stop,” she shouted, slamming her first against the table. “Just stop. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Haley didn’t know what to do, but she’d never seen Joce so angry.

“Yes, please don’t worry.”

Haley chewed at her cheek. “Well, for whatever it’s worth: what an asshole.”

A tear streaked Jocelyn’s cheek. “Definitely an asshole. But I’m fine.”

“Want to tell me his name?”

“So you could go and do what? Beat him up? That wouldn’t do anyone any good. Just let it go.”

“Okay.” Haley drew in a deep breath. “And Dad? What happened to him?”

Every ounce of color on Jocelyn’s face vanished, and she covered it with her hands. He couldn’t have. Dad wouldn’t. If he hurt Joce, if he was the asshole Joce was talking about, Haley would murder him, would take his gun and shoot him with it. Fuck jail. Fuck what life behind bars would do to her. She’d take a lifetime of torture to end whoever brought this kind of pain to her sister.

“Joce, what happened to Dad? Where is he?”

“He changed his mind about wanting to go to the Charmings’ at the last minute, but he wouldn’t say why. I d-don’t know where he is.”

Haley reached across the table and clasped Joce’s hand. “Did he do something to you? Hurt you?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Joce gave Haley the finger and stormed off.

“Classy.”

With a sick twist in her stomach, Haley went about her day and cleaned the house. Visiting with Gran, shopping, and going to the party stole all the opportunities to clean the day before. But taking care of the house now left Haley open to think, to wonder, to worry about Joce and her hot and cold treatment, about where Dad was and what he might have done to Joce.

Haley couldn’t stop worrying even as she finished chores, planned meals for the week, and headed to the store to buy groceries. Her phone vibrated in her back pocket as she stocked the pantry.

You haven’t called

Sorry

Busy?

Yes

A door squealed down the hall, and the sound of soft footsteps alerted Haley to Jocelyn’s presence. “Haley?”

Another day then?

“In the kitchen.”

The phone buzzed again.
?

“Who’s texting you?” Joce claimed a seat at the table and tucked her leg under her butt. “Please tell me it’s not Christine. I mean, she lives, like, across the street. We live so close that you could practically use sign language to speak.”

Haley rubbed her thumb over the screen, searching for the right thing to write back. She couldn’t hang out with Chris again. She couldn’t, not when Dad was missing—and she certainly couldn’t tell Chris that. “It’s Chris.”

Jocelyn’s eyes widened, and she choked on a bite of cereal. “Chris
Charming
?”

“Yeah, why?”

“What’s he want?” Joce snagged Haley’s phone. “Oh, go. You have to go. Tell him you’d love to hang out with him, you idiot.”

Typing a response, Joce ran to her room with Haley staying close behind, grabbed an outfit from her closet, then shoved the phone and the clothes at Haley. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Haley looked down at the message and frowned. “You told him that I’d take him to Champney’s? I just ate there yesterday.”

“With who?”

“Gran.” Champney’s belonged to them. Haley couldn’t meet Chris there. Too serious a place, too special, implying all the wrong things.

Splotches of red made a patchwork of Jocelyn’s fair skin from her forehead to her neck. “You and Gran ate at Champney’s together? Without me? Without even mentioning it to me? Without inviting me?”

“You weren’t home.”
You did the same thing with Dad all week
.

“Get out.” Jocelyn shoved Haley from her bedroom. “Just go out with Chris, have fun, do whatever. But just get out of my room.”

Violence. Would there ever be an end of it in Haley’s life? First Dad pushed her around, and now Jocelyn?

Haley knocked on the door covered in pink and purple flower cutouts. “I’m sorry, Jocelyn.”

“Leave. Please.”

“Will you be all right alone? Are you all right? You’re not acting normal.”

Silence.

Giving up on getting answers, Haley stomped into her room and changed into the clothes Joce gave her, then texted Chris again.
Change of plans. Meet me at your house?

How about I pick you up?

I know how to drive.
Plus, Haley needed the truck in case Dad showed up and wondered where the hell she was.

We’ll see about that

What does that mean
?

Twenty minutes later, Haley stood outside the Charmings’ massive double front doors, shifting weight from foot-to-foot as she waited for someone to answer, unsure how to act “normal” two nights in a row. How did she get here, to a place in life better than the day before?

Ha. Not better. Dad wasn’t home. Joce was acting like a lunatic. So, no, nothing good. Just slightly different circumstances.

Chris opened the door and stepped outside, wearing a wife beater under a leather flight jacket, hair a mess, dark aviator shades on, looking every bit the bad boy rumors made him out to be. “Hi.”

Jocelyn’s outfit for Haley suddenly felt too small, too frilly, too girly: black knee-length tights under a black dress that fell to about mid-thigh, tight around the waist with a broad band of crimson, v-neck, big, bold and crimson flowers decorating it. “Hi.”

Draping his arm over her shoulder, Chris guided Haley across the driveway toward his classic Porsche in desperate need of a paint job. Did he know how much he was worth? “I’d love to check out your driving skills.”

Haley stopped. “Can we stay in?”

“In? In the car, or are you saying something else?” A crooked smile grew up one side of his face, the boyish charm replaced with subtle innuendos.

“Can we avoid going out in public?” Dad might have been out there acting like an idiot or be furious that she hadn’t asked his permission before hanging out with the boy he’d recently threatened to tattle on for showing up at their doorstep. Being out at all was probably a terrible idea. “You know what? I shouldn’t have come. I should have stayed home.”

“Whoa.” Chris grabbed Haley’s hand and pulled her closer before she could get away. “You’ve got to stop doing this to me.”

“Doing what to you?” she asked, trying to wriggle free of his strong embrace.

Pulling off his glasses and revealing his gorgeous blue eyes, he said, “Running away every time I get near you. I promise I don’t bite.”

Deep breath. “It’s not you. Well, it is.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just imply that there’s something wrong with me. Come on. We’ll check out your driving skills another day.” He looked down himself, arms out at his sides. “But I’m going to need another outfit for what I have planned.”

Chris left her at the bottom of the stairs and told her he’d be right back. Haley stood here for a minute, awkward and uncomfortable in such a large, empty space surrounded by giant paintings of landscapes, then wandered into the library. A big oak desk took up residence in the center of the bright room, enclosed by rows and rows of books on built-in shelves. She found a picture of Chris and his parents, all decked out with skydiving gear, smiling, arms draped over each other’s shoulders.

“Eh-hem.”

Haley jumped and glanced back. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Charming. I’m snooping.”

A kind smile radiated warmth into the entire room. “Oh, Haley. If I’d realized it was you, I would have let you continue… perusing our, ah, belongings.” Mr. Charming, an older, grayer version of his son, tall and broad shouldered, in shape, stronger jaw line and shorter hair, picked up the picture she’d been looking at. “We really would have enjoyed your presence on this trip. I was pretty disappointed when Chris said you wouldn’t join us.”

She needed to sit down. “
You
wanted me to come?”

“Of course. I’ve known you for how many years now?” He returned the picture to its place on his desk. “Fifteen. No, that can’t be correct. I saw you arrive in that truck. You must be sixteen now?”

Haley used the desk to support her weight, hand damp. She’d probably leave a mark. “Yes, sir. My birthday was a couple months ago.”

“Buy that vehicle with your own money?”

“No, sir. That’s my dad’s.”

Mr. Charming nodded. “I see. Well, I do wish you’d come along when Chris invites you. If you don’t enjoy his presence, I understand. Mrs. Charming and I would be more than happy to take you skydiving without the stinky child—”

“Stinky?” Chris said, one hand pressed to his chest—a chest with a white, form-fitting t-shirt on—wearing a pair of blue jeans and carrying Scrabble in his other hand. “And child? Really, Dad? Look at me. I’m fairly positive that no one else would refer to me as a child with this body.”