Leaving Paradise (5 page)

ten

Maggie

“Are you okay?” Sabrina asks.

I’m sitting on the floor in front of my locker at school, figuring out which books I need to bring with me to first period. First days of school are always hard to adjust to after a summer off. I’ve had a whole year off. I look up at her and say, “Yeah, except I’m dreading Mrs. Glassman’s trig class.”

“So you’re not freaking out?”

“I hear she’s tough, but I can—”

“I’m not talking about Glassman, Maggie. I’m talking about Caleb being in school today. Duh!”

I lose the grip on the book I’m holding. “What?”

“He’s in Meyer’s office.”

Wait. One. Minute. “I heard he wasn’t coming back to school.” Mom told me this morning; she heard it at the diner.

“You obviously heard wrong, ’cause Danielle saw him.”

I peek down J Hall.

“I thought you said seeing him was no biggie.”

Um . . .

Brianne runs down the hall, heading in my direction. “Did you hear?” she says when she catches her breath.

“She heard,” Sabrina says, her hand on her hip. “But she says it’s no big deal. The girl has serious denial issues.”

Forgetting my locker, I shove the mass of books inside. I’m still sitting on the hard tile floor, but don’t trust myself to stand without making a bigger scene.

To make matters worse, now Danielle is walking down the hall with five people flanking her. She’s deep in conversation, probably relaying the story of the year.

And it’s only the first day of school.

Too bad I didn’t get the packets for Spain in the mail yet. I need something positive to focus on today. Because seeing Caleb—again—is a big deal. The biggest. And I can do nothing but sit here and play the unaffected girl. The affected doesn’t do so great playing the unaffected. At least when it’s me.

“There she is!” Danielle’s excitement makes everyone crowd around me. I wish I could snap my fingers and make them all disappear. Or make me disappear. I liked it better when I was invisible.

“So, what’s the scoop?” Sabrina asks Danielle.

“Well . . .” Danielle says, pausing on purpose to make sure she has everyone’s attention. “My mom is on the school board and I overheard they made Caleb a deal. He has to take junior final exams in all his classes and then he can officially be a senior. If he fails, he’ll be held back a year.”

“He’s a dumb wrestling jock,” Brynn Healey chimes in. “He’ll never pass.”

He’s not dumb; I know he’s smarter than people think. When we were in elementary school, Caleb got a ribbon for getting the highest GPA in sixth grade one semester. He was proud; you should have seen the huge grin on his face as they handed the ribbon to him.

Caleb got teased by his friends for proudly displaying it on his sports trophy shelf. They started calling him names and accused him of having a secret affair with our three-hundred-pound English teacher, Ms. Bolinsky. After that, Leah told me he gave her the ribbon. Caleb’s grades dropped and he never got another ribbon. The relief on his face each time they presented it to someone else was so obvious. Well, obvious to me.

The bell rings and, luckily, the mob starts to disperse.

I just pray Caleb ignores me if we ever come face to face again.

I grab my locker to steady myself and stand. Closing the door, I head toward my first-period class. I’m late, but assume my limp excuse will work.

I catch sight of Leah coming out of the bathroom. My old best friend walks toward me, not paying attention because she’s looking down.

If things were different, I’d ask her why she wears all black clothes. If things were different, I’d ask her how it feels having her brother back.

When she finally does look up and notices I’m in her path, she makes an about-face and scurries away.

eleven

Caleb

The school principal is standing over my desk. The desk has been placed in the man’s office so I can take the dreaded exams.

I should never have come back to school. I’d gone to classes in the DOC; it was part of the juvenile inmate program. The tests aren’t the problem, either. It’s the way Meyer is staring at me like he’s never seen an ex-con before. The unnecessary attention is driving me insane.

I focus on the second final exam placed in front of me this morning. It isn’t as if I’m acing the tests so far, but I haven’t flunked them either.

“You done?” Meyer asks.

I have one more algebra question left, but with the guy standing over me it’s close to impossible to concentrate. Not wanting to fuck it up, I’m doing my best to answer the question correctly.

It takes me five minutes longer than it should, but I’m finally ready for the next exam.

“Go have lunch, Becker,” Meyer orders after collecting the test.

Lunch? In the cafeteria with half the student body? No way, man. “I’m not hungry.”

“You gotta eat. Feed that brain of yours.”

What did he mean by that?
Stop being paranoid
, I tell myself. That’s one of the side effects of being jailed. You always analyze people’s words and expressions as if they’re playing with you. A joke on the ex-con, ha ha.

I stand. Beyond the principal’s door are over four hundred students waiting for a glimpse of the guy who went to jail. I rub the knot that just reappeared on the back of my neck.

“Go on,” Meyer urges. “You have three more exams so move those feet. Be back here in twenty-five minutes.”

I put my sweaty palm on the door handle, twist, and take a deep breath.

Out in the hallway, I don’t waste any time and head for the cafeteria. Once inside, I ignore all of the stares. Coffee. I need strong, black coffee. That’ll ease my nerves and keep me awake the rest of the afternoon. Scanning the room, I remember there’s no coffee available for students. I bet they have a coffee pot in the teachers’ lounge, though. Would they notice if I steal one cup? Or will they call the police and claim I’m a thief in addition to the other labels already tattooed on my back.

I spot my sister sitting alone. She used to sit by Maggie and their other friends, giggling and flirting with my friends.

That’s what sucked about having a twin of the opposite sex. It was bad enough when my sister had crushes on my friends and would bug us when they’d hang at my house. She’d slap on the makeup and act all giggly and flirty . . . I still cringe thinking about it. What’s worse is when I realized the tide changed and my friends actually wanted to get into my sister’s pants. That changed it into a whole new ball game. I spent a lot of time last summer threatening to cut my own friends’ balls off. I’ve always made sure my sister was protected, her reputation as well as her social status.

A year has gone by.

Boy, how things have changed. Nobody even looks in Leah’s direction now.

“Hey, sis,” I say, straddling the cafeteria bench opposite her.

Leah twirls spaghetti around her fork, the hot lunch special of the day. “I heard about the exams,” she says.

I let out a short, cynical laugh. “My brain is already fried and I still got three more to go.”

“You think you passed?”

I shrug. “Don’t know.”

“Rumor has it Morehouse made up a social studies exam you couldn’t possibly pass.”

Didn’t I already pay my debt to society? “Really?”

“Yeah. Caleb, what if you flunk?”

I don’t want to think about it, so I ignore her question. When I happen to glance at the entrance to the cafeteria, in walks Kendra. Is she my ex, or did we just take a leave of absence from each other? The answer lies in her reaction to me. She hasn’t spotted me yet. Good. I’m not ready to talk to her in front of the whole frickin’ school. “I gotta go.”

I bolt out the side door of the cafeteria, the one leading to the small gymnasium.

Man, Kendra looked hot. Her hair is cut different than I remember, her shirt a little tighter. How will she react when she sees me? Will she throw herself into my arms or will she play it cool?

I miss her.

I gaze at the wrestling mats piled in the corner of the gym. Kendra used to cheer me on during matches. I remember the last wrestling tournament I competed in. I jumped two weight classes to wrestle the big guy. It was a 1-1 tie before I made my move. His legs were as dense as a python, but I was quicker. I’ll never forget his name . . . Vic Medonia.

I wasn’t intimidated, although I probably should’ve been. Vic was last year’s state champion. But I won the match. The guy had one word to say to me after the match.
Later
.

I was arrested a week later.

“You’re back.” Coach Wenner is standing at the door to the gym, eyeing me.

I shove my hands into my jean pockets. “That’s what they tell me.”

“You gonna wrestle for me this season?”

“No.”

“My team could sure use a good one-sixty-five.”

“I’m one-eighty now.”

The coach whistles in awe. “You sure? You look leaner than I remember.”

“I’ve worked out a lot. Muscle weight.”

“Don’t tease me like that, Becker.”

I laugh. “I’ll come to some matches. To watch.”

Coach Wenner slaps the wrestling mats. “We’ll see. Maybe when the season starts you won’t be able to resist.”

I check my watch. I better get back and finish those exams. “I gotta get back to Meyer’s office.”

“If you change your mind about joining the team, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah,” I say, then walk down the hall.

Back in the office, Meyer plops the next test in front of me.

Damn. I forgot to eat. Now the words on the page are blurred, the knot on the back of my neck is throbbing, and Meyer is staring at me from his desk.

The guy sits there, his eyebrows raised like little French accents over his eyes. “Something wrong?”

I shake my head. “No, sir.”

“Then get to work.”

Easy for him to say. He doesn’t have to take a social studies test the president of the United States wouldn’t have a chance in hell of passing.

I should purposely flunk it; that’ll show ’em. Then I can skip my last year of high school. There’s no way my ma will let me be a junior again. Or will she?

I fill out answers until my pencil wears down and my ass is numb from sitting on the hard metal chair. It’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ve passed Morehouse’s stupid test. Only two more of the things to go before I can leave for the day.

Two hours later, I answer the final question on the last test. I almost smile. Almost. My brain is too tired to use any facial muscles. So when Meyer dismisses me, I practically run from his office.

I have to take a bus to the hardware store. Bus number 204 from Hampton will stop a block away from school at three twenty-nine.

My watch says three twenty-seven.

That gives me two minutes to run to the bus. I’m ready to book as fast as I can to catch the thing, because if I don’t, Damon’ll know I was late.

As soon as the bus is in sight, Brian Newcomb steps in front of me, holding his hand to my chest and stopping me.

“Caleb, buddy, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Brian and I had been best friends since kindergarten. We haven’t talked for almost a year. I told him not to visit me in jail, so I don’t know if we’re still buds. But right now isn’t the time to find out. Community service sucks, but I have to do it. My freedom depends on it.

“Wha’s up, Brian?” I say quickly, then look behind him as the bus pulls away from the stop. Shit.

“You know. Nothing . . . and everything. What up with you?”

“Oh, you know. Getting used to living without bars in my bedroom.”

There’s one of those really long pauses, where Brian looks like he doesn’t know how to respond, before finally saying, “That was a joke, right?”

“Right.” Not really.

Brian laughs, but there’s something else behind it. Nervousness? What reason does he have to be nervous? The guy knows me better than my own mother.

I narrow my eyes at my friend who’d been my confidante since kindergarten. “Are we cool?” I ask.

There’s a slight, almost unnoticeable hesitation. But I see it, and, more importantly, feel it. “Yeah, we’re cool,” Brian says.

The bus turns the corner. “I gotta go.”

“You need a ride? My dad got a new Yukon and gave me his,” Brian says, jangling the keys to the car in front of my face.

I’d settle for an old, rusted junker at this point. I murmur a “No, thanks,” because I learned in jail not to have expectations or rely on others.

“Listen, I’m sorry I never wrote. There were crazy things going on and you told me not to visit . . .”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s over, man.”

Brian shifts his feet. “I’d still like to talk about it.”

“I said it’s over. I really got to go,” I say, then start walking toward The Trusty Nail.

The last thing I need is my best friend acting stranger than my mom. I have enough to deal with right now, like how Damon is going to spit fire when he hears I was late for my first day of community service.