Knee Deep (5 page)

I open my mouth to tell him everything about Shawn and the weekend and going further, but it’s
Luke
, he’s a guy. He won’t get it.

“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.” He smirks. “I brought every version of
Romeo and Juliet
I could find. Sound cool?”

I let out the breath I didn’t know I held, totally thankful that Luke doesn’t see the need to push things. “Actually, yeah.” I nod. “I’ll make popcorn.”
And get out of this room for a moment to get my head on straight.

“Oh.” He knows what popcorn is at this house. My mom is a practical popcorn gourmet. “Can you do the chocolate stuff?” he asks.

“Yes, I can.” I yell from the kitchen. “You’re in charge of setting up the TV. I don’t get my dad’s new system.”

“I got it,” he calls.

Really, Luke is like one step up from hanging with the ‘girls.’

Right.

I take a few more breaths, as I dump the kernels into Mom’s special popcorn pot. He watches girly movies. He’s pals with my folks. I mean, Shawn gets along with them but Luke’ll drop by just to hang with my dad—which, I guess, makes him
less
like one of the girls. But he’s as easy as one of the girls. Maybe that’s my point. This is okay. I’m okay here. Shawn shouldn’t care. No big deal.

***

Luke lounges in Dad’s huge chair; I’m sprawled over the couch and we’re both stuffed with chocolate popcorn.

I’m wiping tears at the end of the second movie. Well, it was
West Side Story
, not
Romeo and Juliet
, but I’ve wiped each eye over and over again. My chest is heavy from how they were torn apart, but at least Maria’s smart enough not to kill herself at the end.

“You need to stop crying at the endings.” He teases, as he stands to stretch. “You know what happens.”

“
You’re
the one who brought them. And it was just two. Anyway, I think I’m done.” I roll onto my back. “I feel like a big wimp, crying like this.” I make one last smear with my palms and suck in a deep breath. Done.

“You think deeply. You feel deeply. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

I glance at him crouched in front of the TV. He watches me with such goodness and friendship in his eyes. I love Luke like a brother, or a cousin, or something. He’s comfortable, like family. Better than the odd tingles from the other night. “Thanks.”

He turns back to his task. “Let’s at least watch the beginning of the newest one, okay?” He stuffs the last movie into its case and pulls out the next. “I mean, it’s really not actually new, but it’s the most recent.”

“The DiCaprio one, right?”

He smiles wide. “With the kick-ass cars and music, that’s the one.”

And I do love this one. I love how visual it is. Luke grabs us each another soda and the last bits of chocolate popcorn and sits down on the floor in front of the couch. He leans back and I pat him on the head like my little Luke pet.

But the movie starts and before the narrator’s done, I’m absorbed—once again taken in by the language.

“
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes. A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life; Whole misadventures piteous overthrows. Do with their death, bury their parent’s strife
.”

Each word hits my chest and I know I’ll be crying at the end of this one, too. Luke was right to bring so many versions—so many ways to say each line. My breath catches when Romeo and Juliet smile through the fish tank. LOVE it. Love the costumes. I love the break between dialogue, and the passion that practically radiates off the screen. Everything. And I know I’m just watching it, but after hearing the lines over and over every day after school I’m also
in
it.
In
the story.

“We should do that with ours.” I point out. I’m all smiles after watching them jump into the elevator and kiss.

“Do what?” He turns his head to see me.

“The costume party like this—Romeo as the knight and Juliet as the angel. I think it would be awesome.” Mostly I want to see Liesl all decked out with angel wings.

“It would be. I’ll talk to Blackman about it.” Luke thumps his soda can as he drains the last drops from his third Pepsi of the day.

My front door opens. “Hello?” Shawn calls.

“In here!” I say back. Suddenly this feels weird. Why would this feel weird? This is just what happens when one of us is stuck at home. Why would today be any different? But my heart’s beating against the inside of my ribs, trying to tell me this
is
different.

Luke scoots away from the couch. Does he feel it too? That maybe him and me hanging out alone for the day might not have been the best idea?

Shawn steps through the hallway and scowls when his eyes meet mine and then pass to Luke. This shouldn’t be a big deal. Except…I’m so stupid. I was just thinking how I needed to make Shawn’s life outside of his house less stressful, and part of me knew it was weird that Luke was here without Shawn. I
thought
it, and did nothing. But again, it
is
just Luke.

“What’re you doing here?” Shawn asks. His dark eyes fix on Luke.

“I figured you’d be here, man.” Luke stands up. “It’s like we always ditch together, right?”

Romeo and Juliet kissing in the pool on the TV screen probably isn’t helping anything. Maybe Shawn won’t notice, or maybe it’s just sending my heart into crazy flutters because this tension between Shawn and Luke and, I guess, me, is happening during the most romantic scene of the movie.

“Uh, I don’t know.” Shawn’s still scowling, his brows pulled low and his jaw tight.

“You would’ve hated it,” I say. My eyes catch his, but his are as black as his mood seems to be. I’m so stupid. Why did I have to let Luke stay?

“Yeah, maybe.” Shawn’s narrowed eyes go from Luke to me, back and forth, as if judging the situation.
Really
? What did he think could possibly happen between
Luke
and I? Even if this is suddenly on my top three ‘most awkward moments’ ever. I can’t even think about what the other two might be. Maybe I’ve just found number one.

“Romeo and Juliet all day.” Luke laughs, but I know him well enough to see he’s trying really hard to be relaxed. His shoulders are too stiff, and his normal stance is too rigid. I wonder if Shawn sees it too. “Guess I’ll leave you two alone.” Luke’s trying hard to keep his voice light.

“Yeah.” Shawn has yet to return Luke’s smile. “I almost never see my girl anymore.”

It’s like I’m on the edge of my seat, tension pinpricking every part of me. I’ve never seen Shawn like this.

“Well, I should get my ass to rehearsal anyway.” Luke gives Shawn a friendly pat on the shoulder before heading outside.

I don’t watch him go. My eyes are on Shawn, trying to figure out what to expect next.

“What the hell was that?” His sharp gaze is now pointed directly at me.

I stand up and lean to the side, trying to be relaxed. “It didn’t seem like a big deal this morning.” Maybe if I play it off as nothing Shawn won’t be so mad. He knows Luke and I are friends.
No big deal
, I tell myself again. But I don’t know if I’m trying to convince myself or Shawn.

“Was he here when we were texting?” he asks. His voice may be low, but not in a good way. It’s low in a way that makes him sound like he’s past the edge of reasonable anger.

My body’s screaming for me to take a step back, which makes no sense. This is Shawn.
My
Shawn. “No.” But I’m weakening by the second, almost shaking inside.

His jaw tightens again.

My eyes close as I remember, and dread fills my chest. “He got here as I sent my last one.” Is that bad? Good?

“And you didn’t think to tell me? What the hell
is
that?”

I jump at the sharpness of his voice. Shawn doesn’t need this stress. I know this. I reach forward to put my arms around him. We just need to hold one another for a minute, then it’ll all be fine.

He stops me, grabbing my arm—hard—just above my wrist.

“This is not okay.” His jaw is set.

“Hey.” My voice shakes. My body shakes. I’m actually scared of Shawn for the first time ever. I jerk my hand once, but he tightens his grip…impossibly tight. My lungs can’t pull in a breath; there’s just not enough air in the room anymore. “Shawn, you’re
hurting
me.” He can’t mean to hurt me. He can’t.

His face is stuck in a sharp scowl.

“He’s your friend.” My voice is crying. I want to try and pull my shaky arm out of his grasp again, but I’m afraid to; he’s squeezing so
hard
. Tears are hot against the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over.

“How would you feel if I spent all day with some chick?” The words come out as angry spit from between his teeth.

I open my mouth to answer but can’t, the lump in my throat has taken over. All I can think about is that I need to find something to say so he’ll let me go. Some way to get the air through my throat to form words. “It’s just
Luke
,” I plead, sucking in a breath.

“Whatever.” He throws my arm back at me, turns, and walks out the door, slamming it hard behind him. My body jumps at the sound.

I stumble backward onto the couch. I’m like a leaf battered about in the wind. Nothing’s working right. I need to sit. Normally I’d run after him, but I have no idea what to expect. And I’m
afraid
. Of
Shawn.

He’s never been that way before. Ever. He’s moody and particular, but this seems…extreme. I’m cradling my wrist with my other hand, afraid to look at any possible damage. It hurts to move it. What just happened here?
How
did it happen?

It’s like there suddenly must be something fundamentally wrong with the universe. But the TV’s still on. My house looks normal and quiet. I’m still breathing, but Shawn,
my Shawn
, just hurt me. Lying down seems so anti-climactic, but I can’t bring myself to do anything else.

When Juliet realizes Romeo’s dying the sobs take over, and I pull my knees to my chest as if making myself smaller will somehow dull the pain.

It doesn’t.

~ 6 ~

I put on a hoodie to hide the ice I have on my wrist, then I lie in bed and read. Normally I’d have my script out, but after a whole day of
Romeo and Juliet
, I’m done. I really need to find something to keep my brain busy. Thinking about my day with Luke and Shawn’s horrific reaction, won’t change how I screwed up by hanging out with Luke all day.

“Ronnie?” Dad knocks on my door.

“Yep.” I let the book lie on my arm. Maybe it’ll mask the ice better than the hoodie does.

He opens the door and steps inside. It’s always sort of funny to see Dad in my turquoise room. It’s a pretty girly room and he looks displaced, like an alien or something.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asks.

“Sure.” I don’t move. I’m not sure how to keep all my ice, hoodie, and book in place if I do, but I have to keep him from seeing. He won’t understand—he won’t realize the stress that Shawn must be under for this to happen. Actually, this leads me to the problem of Dad saying we need to talk. It’s generally because he’s noticed things that I
really
don’t want to discuss.

He sits in my small, white wicker chair. Again. Alien. In the wrong world.

“You were driving Mindy’s car yesterday when you skipped?” he asks.

“What?” Even though I know I was driving her car, I’m just trying to figure out where he’s going with this so she doesn’t get in trouble. I swallow down the small lump forming in my throat.

His face tilts down. He knows I heard him.

“She let me borrow it.” Seems safe enough.

“So.” He sits back again. “Mindy let you borrow her car so you could skip. And you skipped by yourself?” His fingers rub his chin like I imagine he does with his patients. He’s watching me too carefully.

I force my breathing to remain the same. “Yep.”

“Why?” The crinkles around his eyes are really starting to show. A combination of age and suspicion.

“What?” Again, answering a question with a question gives me thinking time. The problem is Dad knows this trick.

Again
, his stern look.

Okay, the best way to deal with my dad is by being as honest as possible. “I don’t know, Dad. Don’t you sometimes have an off day?” I ask.

“We all do.” He nods. “I’m just concerned there’s more going on here, that’s all.”

“I just…I just wanted out of school. Next time I’ll call. I knew I’d get caught without a car, and Mindy didn’t mind letting me use hers…” I do a half shrug as I lie on my side. Looking relaxed is always good.

“I won’t tell her parents if she was with you, but if she was, and you took the fall alone, it makes me wonder why. I also wonder why, if you were alone, you bothered to skip at all. If you took the fall and let
Shawn
hide, that’s completely not okay. And you don’t seem nearly as upset about your weekend as I would have guessed, so I’m kind of wondering what’s going on with that as well.” Dad’s brown eyes stare into my darker ones. He’s pretty much hit on everything—aside from my disastrous day today. The signs of that incident are hiding under a book, a pile of ice, my hoodie, and what I hope is a perfectly neutral expression.

“Dad, I think your job as a shrink is bleeding into your role as my father. And honestly.” I smirk. “I’m a little concerned.” Ha! Diversion. That should be good.

He smiles. “Fine. But I’m worried about you. I’m not a shrink, I’m a therapist. And please,
please
, if something’s going on let me or your mother know, okay?” He stands up, his eyes still on me, waiting for a response.

“Okay.” I give him what I hope is another relaxed, reassuring smile as he steps out of my room. Then I allow myself to flop back over.

Talk to my mother? Funny. As much as I love my mom, she doesn’t notice things, not the way they really are. I sometimes wonder if she wanted to be a mom, or if it was really my dad who pushed to have kids. She loves me, I know this, so I’m not bothered. She just somehow doesn’t fit the mother stereotype I have in my head.

The other thing is that if I
did
talk, all they’d do is overreact. No one wants to hear about their little girl trying to come up with the courage to have sex. And both of them would freak if they knew what happened with Shawn today.
I’m
still sort of freaked about it. Even though I know it was a total fluke. It has to be.

***

The bruise just above my wrist is a startling rainbow of purple and blue, and shots of pain go up my arm as I turn my hand. My chest aches at the thought of Shawn so angry, and I have to blink back tears. If I didn’t have a bruise to prove it, I might not believe Shawn could do something like this. He
hurt
me. The Shawn who
loves
me, hurt me.

I run my good hand through my dresser drawers, throwing everything onto my bed in frustration. Now I’m on the floor, and searching the depths of my closet. I jerk out an old white, long sleeved tee.

It’s like I’m suddenly in someone else’s life, in desperate need of distraction. I slide on my shirt, making sure the sleeves are long enough for my lanky arms. When I check the mirror my eyes are only slightly red. I suck in a deep breath. Okay. I can do this.

I hoist my bag carefully onto my shoulders. My wrist isn’t broken because I can move my hand, but he held on a lot tighter than I thought he did when it happened. I’m not sure where we stand right now. We didn’t talk or text after he left last night.

When I open my front door Shawn’s standing there, quiet, with his hands in his pockets. Waiting. I suck in a breath. My heart is fluttering and my mind is uncertain.

His eyes are soft, sad, and sorry. And I’m more shocked than mad, really. Maybe everything yesterday caught us both by surprise. Seeing his apologetic face begins to melt my leftover frustration and fear.

The silence between us feels like an apology—he’s not even trying to defend himself.

“Hey.” I test the waters first.

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes catch mine. His breathing sounds off as he stares at the ground.

I reach out to him. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” And I’m not sure if I mean it or not, but I really want Shawn and I to be back to normal.

His hand touches my wrist and I wince, both in fear of his reaction and because it’s still that sensitive. Maybe I should have gone for the hoodie so I could have used more ice today.

His brows come together. His fingers hold mine gently as he turns my hand palm up and tugs at my sleeve. My heart hits hard, what will he think?

The bruise is a sharp contrast against the white of my shirt and pale skin.

His hand covers his mouth as he lets go of my fingers. “Oh, God.” He leans over, resting his hands on his knees, and part of me thinks he might pass out or throw up. Just when I start to move toward him, he stands up straight. “Ronnie.” His fingertips slide along my cheek, through my hair. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe…”

He wipes a tear from my cheek before I realize I’m crying. I don’t know who hugs who first, but I’m wrapped up in his arms in a way that makes me want to stay wrapped up in his arms forever. My chin rests on his shoulder and his rests on mine as we just hold each other. I close my eyes and squeeze tighter. This is the closeness we sort of lost with the beginning of the school year. The kind of closeness that makes me feel like I’m melting into him, into his warmth, and the way I
know
he loves me.

“I’m so sorry. My dad’s been extra crazy with work, and I’ve been stressed and worried…” His hands run through my hair over and over.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m fine.”

My body relaxes deeply against him, and I start to see how tense we’ve been since school started. Now that the tension is gone, I know that anything would be worth having Shawn back this way. The way Shawn and I are
supposed
to be.