Mistrust (26 page)

Mom shoots up off the sofa and runs down the hallway. Sam is doubled over, clutching her stomach with tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks, and I’m laughing so hard my cheeks are hurting and I can’t say anything.

The song finishes and Dad takes off the headphones. Our rules are if it hasn’t been guessed in the length of a song, you lose the round. “What the hell were you saying?” he asks me in seriousness.

“Scooby Doo,” I say clutching my side because I’m laughing so much I now have a stitch.

“Really?” Dad’s face has no emotion. “Scooby Doo?” I nod at him. Mom comes back, her face flushed from laughing so much. “Hmmm.” Dad stands and gives the headphones over to Mom, who’s still laughing.

The remainder of the night is spent with us laughing hysterically. By the time I head to bed, my cheeks are sore, my sides are aching, and I can’t help but still laugh at
all
the wrong answers . . . and the shouting.

Closing my eyes, I’m taken away to dreamland. Thank goodness, dreamland warmly accepts me and shows me images of pure happiness.

“Can I help?” I ask Mom while she prepares the food for the cookout. We planned it for two nights after we got back from our camping trip-slash-disaster.

“Sure, want to make the salad?”

“Yep.” I slide in behind the large island bench in the kitchen, and start working around Mom who’s peeling potatoes. “What are we eating?” I look around the food on the kitchen counter, hoping it’ll give me some hints as to what’s for dinner.

“Salad.” She pointedly looks down at the ingredients I’m getting out of the fridge. I roll my eyes, but smile. “Hamburgers, potato salad.”

“Yum,” I interrupt her to say.

“Hot dogs, steak, and watermelon.”

“Mom, there’s only seven of us, why so much?”

“There’s no such thing as too much, Dakota. We can head down to the local church and give them what’s left over. They run a homeless kitchen, so I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

I shrug my shoulders. I suppose she has a point. Mom has always said, better for us to give food away than not have enough. She’s thrown a few parties, and there’s always way too much food left over, so she packs it up and takes it to the local church.

“We should make extra anyway, so we can take them some food.” I chop the lettuce for the salad, and out of my peripheral vision I notice Mom stop what she’s doing.

“That’s really thoughtful, honey. I’m proud of you for thinking of others.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. “Then we’re also having chicken and corn on the cob.” She heads over to the fridge and takes the chicken and corn out.

Mom and I work together in the kitchen, seamlessly helping each other while chopping, and cooking. “There’s so much food,” I sigh while looking at everything we’ve prepared.

“How about we halve everything? Package half in containers and put it in the fridge and if we run out, all we have to do is grab it from the fridge. Then if there’s anything left at the end of the night I can take it down to the church.”

“Good idea, Mom.” We spend the next ten minutes separating all the food. Once it’s all done, we store it all in the fridge. “Do you need any more help?”

“Nope, everything’s done.”

“Okay.” Leaving Mom I go out the back where Dad and Sam are cleaning the grill. “It’s been a hot day today, I’m sure you all will be in the pool.”

“I’m going to put my swimsuit on and jump in,” Sam yells over her shoulder as she runs inside.

“What about you, sweetheart. You going to put your suit on?” Dad asks while cleaning the grill.

Suddenly I shudder with the thought of exposing my body so much. I’ve been living in shorts and t-shirts, not wanting to put on anything that’s too revealing. Instantly my body tortures me by churning my stomach as fine goosebumps pebble my skin. “Ah . . . yeah,” I say, my voice crackling.

Dad stops cleaning the grill, and walks over to where I’m standing at the large outdoor table. He hugs me without even knowing why my voice broke. “You okay?” he asks. He kisses the top of my head and tightens his hug. He moves back his arm now draping over my shoulder. “You seem down, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” I reply immediately. The sadness in my voice is obvious. I look to Dad who squints at me. “Really, I’m great,” I add eagerly.
Shut up, Dakota.

The panic intensifies, and sweat beads on my neck. Dad’s holding me in his regard and he’s got hard ‘Dad eyes’ happening. Those are the ones where you’re sure he can read your mind, but he doesn’t want to say anything in case he’s mistaken and it turns out to be ‘time-of-the-month’ business.

“Okay then. Well I’ll get back to cleaning the grill.” He lets go of me, kisses my hair once more and heads back to the grill.

I go to find Sam, because she has one-piece swimsuits, whereas I only have bikinis. Knocking on the door, I can hear her giggling in her room. “Hang on,” she says. She comes to the door and opens it. Her eyes take me in, she frowns and takes a step back. “I gotta go, I’ll see you when you get here.” She hangs up and tosses her phone on her bed. “What’s wrong? I know that look. You’re stressing about something.”

“Am I really so obvious?” Cold fingers of dread pinch my throat, because if Sam can see it, then that means Dad was able to, too. Sam tilts her head and lifts her eyebrows at me. “Right.” I close the door behind me. “You know me the best out of everyone.”

“Ah-ha. So what’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a problem.”

“Well, duh. You’re clearly not as pretty as me. I’d say that’s a huge problem.” I laugh at her, because I know she’s only trying to lift the intensity I brought in with me. “Huge problem.” She extends her arms to show me in size how big the problem is.

“Other than that glaringly obvious fact.” I roll my eyes, but smile. She calms me. She has a special gift of knowing when I’m about to freak out, so she adjusts her tone to soothe and calm me. “You should get into counseling,” I randomly say.

“What? That’s your problem?” Sam screws her nose up and looks at me as if I’ve grown three extra heads.

Chuckling I become sidetracked by my thoughts. “Hang on.” I put my hand up to halt her saying anything else. “First, I need a one-piece and I was hoping I can borrow one of yours?” I put my hands together like I’m praying and I batt my eye lids at her. “Pretty please?” Then I give her the hugest cheesiest grin I can.

“Yeah, cool. Here.” She walks over to her chest of drawers, opens the fourth drawer and throws me a one-piece. “Why?” She turns and looks at me.

“I only have bikinis, and I don’t want to . . .” my voice trembles with fear. “Wear it,” I almost whisper. “Because . . .” Knotting my hands together I look down to my toes, too ashamed to hold Sam’s gaze.

“It’s cool. It’ll suit you better anyway.” Looking up to Sam, her features have softened and I can see by how wide her eyes are, she’s sympathetic toward me, but doesn’t want to say anything.

“Thank you.” I take a deep breath, giving me enough time to gather myself and step out of the prison my mind’s been caught in. “I think you should go to college and learn to be a counselor. You’re so strong, Sam. And you have a way about you that makes me feel like I’m not so lost.”

“Lost?” Sam squints her eyes and rubs her hand over her face. “What do you mean?”

“Since,
that
night.” I pause for a moment, again gathering strength. “Since
that
night, you make me want to try to push past it so I can maybe be normal again one day.”

“I’ve done that?” Sam puts her hand to her chest, covering at her heart.

“You have. It’s like you know what I’m feeling, and you can adapt to it, make me take a moment and step back, keep me from spiraling out of control.” I may have the strength to tell her this, but I’m also nervous about how she’ll react. “You’re so mature, and so level-headed.”

Sam’s face breaks out in a broad smile, her eyes sparkle with so much joy. “Thank you,” she timidly says.

We stand in her room for a few seconds, and it turns uncomfortable. Sam’s not really into compliments. She shuffles on the spot, avoiding me. “Well, I better go get ready before everyone gets here.”

“’K.”

I walk out and into my room to get changed while thinking about Sam and everything she means to me. She’s my stability, my rock, keeping me sane when I start to drift toward the edge of darkness.

Taylor and Sophie are here already, and we’re all in the pool hanging out. “Your sister is so sweet,” Sophie says as we sit on one of the steps in the shallow end.

“Yeah, she’s cool.”

“Tell me about you and Levi. I heard a few rumors the last few days of school, but I think they’re all a load of shit.” Sophie’s dark gray eyes hold their own secrets. She looks to the left, breaking our connection. “Not like it’s any of my business.” She looks up to the sky and squints.

“What did you hear?” I may as well know everything people are saying, it’ll tell me how many untruths Levi is sprouting.

“He’s angry at you because you’ve been sleeping around behind his back. And, that you kept saying no to him, but you’re happy to open your legs to anyone else.” I cringe when she relays all the crappy gossip she’s heard. “I don’t think that’s true. Actually, I know it’s not.”

I shrug although my stomach is all bunched up, and my pulse is racing crazily through my veins. “Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see your reaction, and hear your response.”

She now turns to look at me. “You weren’t even looking at me. You had your eyes glued to anywhere but me.”

A smile pulls at one end of her mouth. “I can see it in your eyes, Dakota. What’s being said is either an exaggeration of the truth, or they’re being horrible and just saying shit. Either way, I can see you’re nervous
and
upset about what people are saying.”

Swallowing hard, I slump my shoulders and look down at my legs which are floating aimlessly in front of me in the water. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me. Matter-of-fact, I don’t think you should have to defend yourself to anyone. Whatever you do has nothing to do with anyone else.”

“Problem is, I haven’t done anything.” My blood pumps quickly through me, while my vision clouds with angry red spots.

“According to all those pictures floating around, you
did
do someone.”

“That’s bullshit,” I angrily retort. “I didn’t know what was . . .” I clap both my hands to my mouth realizing I’d said way too much. I drop my hands and close my eyes, putting up an instant barrier and closing Sophie out. It takes me a few minutes, but when I finally open my eyes Sophie’s looking at me with a calm and soft expression. “I . . .”

“It’s okay, Dakota, I get it.” The hair on my arms stands as I watch Sophie’s eyelids flutter before her face pales, and her slender shoulders shudder. “I get it.” A tear escapes from her eye and she quickly moves to wipe it away.

“Shit,” I mumble and move to hug her. Sophie purses her lips together and shakes her head. “Please, don’t,” she begs. “I don’t want to relive it. I need to forget.”

“Does anyone else know?” Her head moves in small shakes. “Not even your mom?”

Her head snaps up to me, and her eyes beg and plead for me to stop asking her questions. “Does yours?” Our conversation may not have been verbalized, but we both understand the other’s been through something traumatic.

Deflated, I simply shake my head too. “Sam does though.” I look over to Sam flicking water at Taylor, who retaliates by swimming over and dunking her under before picking her up and throwing her a few feet away from him.

“Did she see something?”

“Kinda. She got a picture messaged to her cell and she showed me. I panicked and ran down to the park a few blocks over, she followed and found me in a crumpled mess.”

“You’re lucky, Dakota. You have someone to talk to about this.”

There’s so much pain in her voice. She’s trying really hard to hide the heartache. “When did it happen?” I have no doubt, not one single shred of uncertainty that she’s making this up. I can see how hurt she is, how her raw emotions are a reflection of mine.