Count on Me (3 page)

“Oh
yeah, what did I do this time?”

“Word is you fucked up Dillon’s fac
e pretty bad and that it was because of the freak across the street.”

“Don’t call her that.” I seethe, not understanding where the sudden urge to protect her comes from, but running with it. “She’s not a freak. She’s just got issues, something I figure you both got in common.”

“What are you trying to say boy? That me and that crazy bitch are the same?”

“She’s not a crazy bitch. You’re the one that told me that remember?”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“Well I don’t like that you smell like a brewery, so I guess we’re even.”

He stumbles across the room and the thing is, I could easily have cut him off at the pass considering how utterly wasted he is, but I don’t do it. I want him to hit me, in fact I want him to do to me what I did to Dillon a couple hours ago.

He grabs me and it’s not long before I’m back up on my feet and being tossed across the room. That’s another thing about my brother. It seems that while the liquor makes him unsteady, it also gives him superhuman strength.

I feel the pain shoot through me the minute my body crashes into the wall. It’s almost like a script with us. The location is the only thing that changes. I should be thankful he’s doing it in here instead of out where all the bottles and cans are, but I’m really finding it hard to care about much right now. I just want it over with.

“You’re a disrespectful son of a bitch, you know that
, Kayden? I fucking bust my ass, going to work every day so we can keep living here and all I get for thanks is your smart mouth. No wonder Mom took off and left us.”

Again, this is not something new to me. He says this every sing
le time we get into it. I’m always the reason mom bailed, even though I’m pretty sure it was the dude at the strip club that’s actually the cause. I don’t bother telling him this though. My smart mouth has already gotten me into enough trouble today.

“Yeah I know Dean, I’m an asshole. You gotta knock some sense into me, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

His fist connects with my face before the last syllable can fall, but I don’t make a move. He hits me again and I slump even more into the floor. I feel the blood rising to the surface on my lip and instead of handling it, I just sit there, letting it come. It’s easier this way. I let him get his anger out and he’ll screw off again. I just gotta make it through the next few minutes until he tires himself out.

“You’re the fucking k
ing of the god damned school and you’re gonna blow it all to save some retarded girl that you can’t even stand? You’re damn right I gotta knock some sense into that dumbass head of yours.”

Punch. Kick. Punch. Kick.

He repeats in a cycle one after the other and as I sit there and take it, the only thing I really want to do and can’t, is tell him not to call her a retard again. My anger is rising now, but it has nothing to do with the beating and everything to do with the names he’s calling her. The names I’ve called her.

God, I deserve so much more than this with everything I’ve done.

As the room starts to spin, I focus on the one clear thought in my head that I’m determined to use to get through this. It’s not even a thought, but a picture and it’s so damn beautiful, I want to hold onto it until this entire moment passes.

Clear as
day, I can see myself smiling. Something I haven’t done since the day my mom left us and this stupid ass town behind. A smile Isabelle gave me, wanting nothing in return and one that even in my haze is turning into something more with each passing second.

It’s not my own
face anymore, but hers I see and it’s what I grasp onto as I feel the world start to spin and go dark. A clear picture of Isabelle finally doing what I wanted her to do while I was driving her home.

Smiling.

Chapter Three

Belle

My night turned out pretty great considering the way it started. I finally got to see Tristan’s painting, even getting permission to put it up on my wall because I liked it so much. I didn’t get to make the cookies with my mom, but I did get to make them, which is better than nothing.

The bus is gonna be here to pick me up soon. I’m not looking forward to that. Even though I was able to let it all go last night, it doesn’t mean what happened yesterday is gone completely. I can’t escape it, no matter how much I want to because the problem lives
right across the street. We’re bound to see each other and it’s all going to come flooding back.

It won’t be any easier at school. The girls that were there yesterday, helping
Dillon and Tim do things to me, will haunt me in the halls. They’ll call me names, push me around and do everything they can to make sure my day is that much harder. I’ve seen them do it with the other kids before, so I know what I’ve got waiting for me.

I wanted Mom to call in sick for me this morning, but I chickened out asking her. I really
don’t want to go today, especially if Kayden is going to be there, but hiding at home isn’t an option either. Mom always tells me its best to face things head on. So that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.

I just hope
the fear I feel doesn’t end up making everything worse.

That’s the thing no one gets. The accidents I have, they happen when I’m scared. It starts with my heart racing, which I hear is normal for other kids too, but with me just builds and builds until I can’t control my body’s response.

“Isabelle! Your bus is here!” I hear my mom call up the stairs and I swallow the awkward lump in my throat. It’s time. There’s no turning back now. I’ve just gotta remember to keep breathing and get through this, no matter how bad it gets.

That’s harder
to do as I get on the bus and see the faces of the other kids like me. All of them have their own challenges they have to face, just like I do. I just hope that by knowing me, that Dillon and his friends don’t turn on them next. I’m not sure if I deserve it or not, but I know they don’t.

I had this dream last night, about the way things would be when I got to school today. Everyone just forgot about what happened and things went back to normal. I fade
d into the background like I’ve always done and no one pays me any attention. It was such a great dream. It’s too bad that isn’t at all what happens.

The minute I step off the bus,
the name calling starts. I can hear the words ‘retard’ and ‘moron’ being coughed out in whispered tones, coming from all different directions, so I can’t even say it’s one person doing it. I take it all in as my feet pick up speed, but it’s what I hear next that hurts most.

“Did you hear she pissed hersel
f in front of everyone?”

“I heard she really
thought Dillon wanted her.”

“Like there’s anyone who would go to the dance with that reject.”

“What was God thinking when he made her? She’s defective. Her mom needs to return her.”

Tears are building in the corners of my eyes and I don’t want anyone to see them, so I start running, pushing past the kids that reached the door first and speeding up even more as I run for the nearest restroom. All I need is a stall with a door that actually locks and a few minutes to collect myself. I’ll be fine if I get that.

I know what’s coming if I don’t make it in time. The very thing the kids were all talking about seconds ago. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let everyone see me break. I need to be stronger than this.

The girl’s bathroom comes into sight, but before I can reach out to push the door open, I’m swept off my feet and spun around by a strong pair of arms I can’t place. I st
art to struggle against them, wanting to break free and hide before everything comes crashing down, but I’m powerless against the person holding me.

“Isabelle,” the voice says, quieting me as he pulls me against his chest. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I know that voice. The low, melodic rumble. I heard it yesterday when just like now; he’d rescued me from everything his friends had done.

Kayden.

I need to tell him to let me go, warn him that if he doesn’t, things are going to get a whole lot worse, but I can’t get the words to come out. It’s constricted, like something is lodged there preventing me from even making the smallest noise.

This is definitely not the right time to be mute.

I keep struggling against him because it’s the only way I can let him know to let me go, but he doesn’t. If it’s possible, I think he’s holding on tighter and even though I don’t want it, I can’t help but admit that it’s comforting.

“I’m gonna let you go but don’t run, okay?”

I nod my head and I feel his arms relax, allowing me to move. I don’t do it though. I do exactly what he asked me to do and I stay still, my eyes drilling holes into the floor with the intensity of my stare.

I can’t look up. I can’t look into his eyes and see pity. For whatever reason, I’ve become his pet project a
nd I don’t want any part of it. So despite my body responding to his words, I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see just how much he gets to me. Especially since he’s probably doing it so he has more material to make fun of me for later.

“What’s your first class?” he asks, as he leans in close, other students now passing around us.

I don’t know why he’s asking me this. He has to know by now that I won’t answer.

“Shit. I’m an idiot. You’re upstairs right?”

I nod again, thankful that he’s finally catching on. Just like a minute ago, he sweeps me up into him, moving ahead, pushing through the throng of students that are now filling up what had been a near empty hall a minute ago. I’m not sure if it’s so busy because of everything being floated around or if it’s because Kayden’s here now, but whatever the reason, I hate it. I just want to get to my class and away from him, so I can calm down.

“Ignore everything you hear okay?” he speaks down to me as he continues moving toward the stairs.

I do as he says and instead focus my attention on the woodsy smell that seems to be wafting off of him and directly into my nostrils. It’s a scent that even with the help he gave me yesterday; I don’t think I’ve ever smelled. It’s strong but not heavy. It’s like a mixture of freshly cut wood and the way the grass smells after it’s been cut in the summer time.

Turning the corner once we’ve reached the top, he stops and turns until he’s directly in front of me. The
smell still lingers between us, but it’s more distant now, not nearly as overpowering as it was a few seconds before.

I turn toward the classroom, prepared to move myself around his body in order to go in and tak
e my seat, but before I can take a step around him, his arm comes out and brings me back, startling me.

He did his good deed for the day so what else can he possibly want from me?

“When class lets out, I want you to wait for me here, alright? Promise me you won’t leave and go on your own.”

He sounds like my father with what he’s
asking and if I could smile or even laugh, I would do it now. Just who does he think he is? Babysitting the autistic kid is not a job he wants, he must know this, so why is he doing it?

I don’t nod or m
ake any other motion to let him know that I’ll do what he says, instead making my way around him, practically running until I’m in my seat. It’s only when Ms. Taylor makes her way into the room, Kayden right on her heels that I realize he’s not going to give up that easily.

I watch as they whisper to each other, both of their eyes landing directly on me more than once and I feel sick. It’s obvious he’s trying to get the teachers help in making sur
e that I don’t leave the class. Pushing them and their stupid conversation out of my head, I start pulling my books out of my bag, putting my full attention into making sure I keep my breathing steady so my heart can finally stop racing.

A shadow comes across the desk just as I’m about to start reading and looking up, my eyes lock right on a pair of the lightest green eyes
I’ve ever seen. These are eyes I haven’t looked into since we were ten years old, at least not this closely. They’re eyes I’ve missed.  

There’s no rage in them this time, they’re soft as they look into my blue ones. Despite the softness, I know I’m not going to like what
has to say and thinking about it makes me nervous and uneasy.

“She told me that you get out at 11:15. So I’m gonna come back and be outside the door at 11:10.”

Grabbing the paper off the desk, I grab a pen from my pencil case and start writing. He might have gotten his way in the hallway earlier, but now he’s on my turf. He isn’t going to push me around. His friends have already done that enough already.

Just go, Kayden. You’re not wanted here. I don’t need your pity. Just go.

His eyes turn icy as he reads my words, his lip twitching, almost as if he’s angry with what he read and is trying to control it. He doesn’t break though and the next time he speaks, he makes his point loud and clear, leaving me even more confused.

“It’s not pity, Isabelle. It’s survival. I’m not letting you go throug
h this alone. I’ll see you at eleven.”

Kayden

When I heard the stuff people were saying this morning, it took everything in me not to turn around and punch the living shit out of every one of the people saying it. Apparently Dillon wasted no time spreading yesterday’s garbage around and by the looks of everyone talking, it seems to have spread pretty quick.

It all rolls off my back even though a lot of what is being said has my name attached. I might b
e one of the popular kids and might even like the perks that being it affords me, but I really don’t give a crap what they say about me. I don’t need the social standing the way most people do.

Isabelle on the other hand, deserves none of what she’s getting. She isn’t like me. The stuff people say about her affects her whether she’s able to show it or not. Hearing what these idiots are saying about her, about us, while she’s running across the campus to escape it bothers the hell out of me.

This girl, who has never done anything bad in her entire life is being torn apart by a bunch of mindless drones and it’s unfair. That’s why I chased after her the way I did, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t go anywhere near her. I couldn’t stand the way her face scrunched in as the words being spread sunk in, hating even more the water pooling in her eyes, clear as day, even though I was pretty far behind her.

When she struggled against me in the hall, it did weird things to me. I wanted to let her go because I knew I was scaring her, but I also wanted to hold on tighter. I don’t know what the hell is going on with me and this girl, but every single time I’m around her, it’s like I lose my shit. I stop thinking about myself and how all of th
is is gonna come down on me. All I can see is her and how she’s affected.

I’m not that guy. I’m not the one that protects the girl, shielding her from the typical high school bullshit. No, I’m the one that’s creating it and making as many lives as possible horrible
for my own personal amusement. As much as I try to remember that though, it seems around her, I can’t. All I want to do is be that guy. The one I can never be.

I’m aware of the fact that standing up for her the way I am is only going to make them go harder at her, if the texts I got last night are any indication. I’m going to be the one making her life worse, but I don’t care. I need to protect her from thi
s since it’s my fault it’s happening at all.

Her movements are predictable. Whenever something happens, she runs for the bathroom. It’s her safe place. She did it this morning, just like I knew she would and I couldn’t let her. I probably
should’ve, but I couldn’t.

It’s selfish of me really because she’s not the only on
e with problems. I’ve got a Mac truck full of them myself and there’s only one person on the planet besides Dean that knows.

Isabelle.

She’s seen the cops pulling up to my house at all hours of the day and night. She’s seen the ambulance coming for Dean when he drinks so much he gives himself alcohol poisoning. She’s seen him and even me carted away in handcuffs. The difference is I took her issues and exploited the hell out of them, while she holds onto mine. Her doing that means no one knows the truth about the way my life really is. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s just that nice of a person or her social issues, but whatever the reason, she’s never let it slip and I’m grateful.

It’s not that I care if people know, because I don’t, but I’ve
built myself a pretty good back story here and I don’t want to have to start over when people find out. I don’t want to deal with the looks I’ll get and the change that’ll happen when the truth comes out. It’s a waste of time and energy. She knows though and because of that, I want to keep her as close as possible. I’m securing my place even though I’m pretty sure I don’t want it anymore.