This Year at Home (A Short Story) (3 page)

I had to stop dwelling on Grace. She’d made her choice.

Next to me, Collin was working on his form. He stretched his arms up, then cracked his thumb knuckle, and I glanced at his form. He had left the explanation section blank.

I cleared my throat. My mind was made up. No matter how much it hurt me, I was gonna stick to the truth.

He looked at me, and I mouthed “slap” to him. He nodded and started on the explanation section.

“Rebecca.” It was the office assistant. “Principal Nelson will see you. I think you know which office is his.”

I felt all eyes on me as I headed to Principal Nelson’s office. No doubt, Emmy and Grace were watching me. Collin, too.

Principal Nelson didn’t get up from his desk when I came in. He glanced at me, frowning. “What happened? Derrick says you hit him.”

I parked myself in a chair, took a deep breath, and began my side of the story.

Chapter 2

OUTSIDE THE KITCHEN WINDOW, A thick blanket of snow coated the ground. I watched the snowplow sweep our cul-de-sac, leaving a gauzy outline of the street. Yesterday already seemed like a lifetime ago. After I spoke to Principal Nelson, I had been ushered into another office, where I was guarded by an assistant while Derrick continued to be held in the vice principal’s office.

Then Principal Nelson had a meeting with me, Derrick, and our parents. I was suspended for three days, but Derrick was, too.

Derrick stuck to his bogus story. Naturally, his parents stood up for him, but I could tell from their stony looks at Derrick, they didn’t necessarily believe him.

Mom glanced up from her iPad. “All that hype for four inches of snow. Can you empty the dishwasher?”

I opened the dishwasher. “When is Dad coming over?”

“Right now. He’s stopping to pick up dinner.” She sounded pleased. The two of them had gone to counseling while I was in Israel.

It felt weird. Dad never came over for dinner, much less brought it over. If it was his night, I ate with him at his apartment. But my parents were making an effort to do more together as a family.

As I put away the dishes, the doorbell rang, and Mom went to let Dad in.

“No Facebook,” Mom called out from the foyer. “Not until this blows over.”

I didn’t mind. I had suspended my social networking accounts after the first complaint. Too many funny-cruel posts. I had recently revived my Facebook account, but I wasn’t using it much. Mia, who had been my roommate in Israel, preferred to text. Jake and I had talked on the phone several times, but I rarely saw him online. He was too busy trying to figure out what to do with his life.

The front door closed, and I heard Mom’s muffled voice. I liked that she and Dad were getting along much better lately, but I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up for a full reconciliation.

“Rebecca.”

I recognized the soft voice.

Grace?

“Don’t freak, Rebecca,” the voice pleaded as it got closer.

The scent of amber and citrus saturated the air. Grace had worn the same perfume for years.

I should have turned around. It was the polite thing to do. But I couldn’t.

“Your Mom said it was okay for me to come in,” Grace said. “I’m sorr—”

“Sorry for what? Trying to ruin my life!” I picked up the sponge and squeezed it.

“I turned in the video.”

I turned around. Grace’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

“You’re a little too late. It would have been helpful yesterday.”

“Actually,” Grace said, “I turned it in yesterday, when I turned in the complaint form.”

It didn’t make sense. “Emmy has my phone.”

“She doesn’t. Principal Nelson has your phone. He didn’t tell you he had it.” Grace peered at me. “My mom called Principal Nelson, and he said he hasn’t shown the video to Derrick’s parents yet ’cause he thinks you’ll post it online. It’ll go viral, and Derrick will be bullied.”

That sort of revenge was beyond me. As much as I hated Derrick, I would never wish being bullied on him.

“Anyways,” Grace said. “He’s going to give you your phone back. He told my Mom he’s going to show it to Derrick’s parents.”

“What about the phone you gave Emmy?”

“It was mine. I got a new one for Christmas. Emmy hadn’t seen it yet. She thought it was yours.”

“Oh, I see.” I sounded angry. Why? It was what I wanted, for Grace to be on my side.

Her gaze pleaded with me for forgiveness. “I’m also sorry for what happened, before your—” She stopped short, not finishing, ‘suicide attempt.’

She was asking a lot. She had been in on a prank, orchestrated by Derrick and Emmy, that involved a doctored photo of me. That prank had pushed me over the edge, into trying to kill myself.

“I was relieved when you went away.” Grace’s voice cracked. “So I wouldn’t have to see you. Because every time I saw you, it reminded me of what we did to you, and what an awful person I was.”

Relief ran through me; she was owning up to her role. But she was asking for an easy pardon for something she hadn’t been forced to participate in. Why should she be forgiven?

Grace sniffled. “I don’t blame you if you don’t forgive me.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. Unforgiving was not a word that described me. But the hurt from being bullied was still there, and the negativity surrounding it was like a piranha. Did I want it to gnaw at me forever?

Tears trickled out of Grace’s eyes, streaking her face.

How much longer did I want her to be stuck with an awful person complex? That was quite a load of baggage. Forgiving her wouldn’t be easy. She had backstabbed me.

But that was last year. I had gotten over the past, over my suicide attempt. Wasn’t it fair for her to do the same?

“I… I forgive you.” There, I said it, and the negativity trickled away. We could move on.

Grace took a tissue from her jeans pocket. “Do you think we could be friends again?”

I didn’t know what to say.

She blotted her eyes. “I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see. I’ll prove how sorry I am. You should know I gave Collin your home phone number. I told him how I used to be your best friend and how bad I felt about backstabbing you. He knows I turned in your phone.”

“Really?” Talking about Collin was a good diversion. It lifted the heaviness in the air.

“He asked for it,” Grace offered, as if it were a glass of lemonade on a hot summer day. “Said you hadn’t replied to his Facebook friend request.”

“I’m not allowed online for a while.” My voice was flat with confusion, confusion over Grace. I hadn’t thought she was sorry. She had avoided me after my suicide attempt. Then she let me down when I gave Principal Nelson her name as a witness for the first complaint. I hadn’t been able to look at her after the complaint was dismissed.

Grace turned away from me; her shoulders tensed. After years of being bullied, she had been the one friend who had stood by me. I had been naïve until she backstabbed me.

The situation was different now. I was stronger. Nobody had emotional power over me.

Grace nodded but didn’t turn around. Instead, she bolted to the living room.

“That was nice of you,” I tried again, in a softer voice, as I ran after her. “To give Collin my number.” I sounded sincere, and it lightened the mood.

I sure was glad to see Mom in the living room. She was on the couch, pretending to be engrossed on her iPad.

She looked up. “Everything okay, girls?”

“Fine,” I answered. “Grace and I talked, and we’re okay.”

Grace tugged on her jacket sleeve. She hadn’t taken off her ski jacket when she came in. “Yeah, we’re okay. Well, I better go. See you in school.”

I stayed by the couch as Mom got up.

“Take care, Grace.” Mom opened our front door. “Careful walking down the steps. They haven’t been shoveled yet.”

Mom kept the door open.

Grace put up her jacket hood, tucked in her long brown hair, and treaded carefully in her sheepskin boots. At the steps, she paused to grab onto the iron railing before venturing down, toe first.

Mom gently closed the door and straightened the entryway rug. “What’d she say?”

“She asked me to forgive her.” Emotion flooded my voice. Returning to school, slapping Derrick, hearing Grace’s plea for forgiveness—it was all so much, so heavy.

Mom crossed over our stamp-sized foyer. Our living room was typical for an older home in our area: small and cozy, low ceiling, beat-up hardwood floor, and a drafty window.

She folded her arms around me. Normally, I would have pulled away—Dad got my hugs—but I couldn’t push her away.

Tears spilled out of my eyes, and I buried myself in her arms.

Mom held me tightly. “Cry it out.”

I sobbed into her. I was finally where I wanted to be. I had gone from school loser to a girl that took no prisoners. I was home, and the future was bright.

But I had a big decision to make, a complicated one that I hadn’t anticipated.

When my tears stopped, I pulled away. Mom searched my face, her hazel eyes concerned.

I didn’t have to tell her the details. She’d figure it out. But I wanted her to know the past was behind me. “I forgave Grace. She asked to be friends. I just don’t know if I want to go that far.”

“If it were me,” Mom said, “I’d keep my distance. But you aren’t me. You’re you, and it’s your decision.”

I got a tissue and wiped my face. Mom’s response didn’t surprise me. When I was in fourth grade, I flew by myself to New York City to see Dad, who was there on a month-long work assignment. Mom loves to tell the story of how she had planned to go with me until a work emergency came up, and she asked me what I wanted to do: Go on the flight alone, or cancel the trip?

Our doorbell rang.

I dropped my tissue and rushed past Mom. “I’ll get it.”

I swung open the door; it hit the doorstop on the baseboard.

Dad stood on our porch with two plastic bags, his breath coming out like stacks of smoke in the frigid air. “Dinner’s here.”

I took the bags. “Did you get eggrolls?”

“Does Papa Bear know where to find the honey?” Dad cautiously stepped inside and glanced around for Mom. It had been ages since he had come inside Mom’s house, as he had never been invited for dinner.

She looked expectantly at Dad. Counseling had softened her, but she was still in limbo over what she thought of the three of us spending time together. Pleased at times, indifferent at others—it was only a matter of time before an irritated face would pop up.

Dad slipped off his loafers, neatly placing them in the wicker basket. A slight smile spread on his face as he arranged his shoes just so. “Okay if I get dinner set up?”

Mom took his shoes and rearranged them underneath her clogs. “Sure.”

Our phone rang.

Mom scooted back toward the coffee table. “Ugh. I’m calling the police if we get crank calls.”

“You won’t get crank calls,” Dad said optimistically. “Justice has prevailed.”

I lined up the Chinese takeout boxes on the dining room table, soy sauce and ginger scenting the air. Going away had been a good decision. Being in a new place where I wasn’t treated like a loser had kickstarted my makeover. The rest had been hard work and determination, and now everything was falling into place.

“I’ll get drinks,” Dad offered. “Iced tea or water?”

“Water,” I answered. “And real silverware, please.”

“Rebecca! Go help your dad.” Mom picked up the phone. “Hello.”

Mom tilted her head. “May I ask who’s calling? Collin Meyers?”

My heart missed a beat. Of course Collin was gonna call. Grace had given him my phone number.

“She’s about to eat dinner. I’ll tell her you called. Bye.” Mom put the phone down.

“Mom!” She was being rude! We weren’t eating yet.

“Calm down.” Mom shook her head then plodded into the kitchen to supervise Dad.

Chapter 3

COLLIN SMILED AT ME FROM his locker. His hair was tousled, looking rough and adorable at the same time. I felt satisfied as I walked over to him. Four days ago, I had returned to school anxious and proud. And I stood up for myself!

Little ol’ me. The girl who used to be helpless and insecure. I had gone away and returned home a new person. Derrick and Emmy could no longer push me around.

“Hey,” Collin said.

I hadn’t called him back. With all the drama, I needed some time to myself and had decompressed by going through my trip pictures with Mom.

He closed his locker, expression slightly amused but serious. “Did you get your phone back?”

“Yeah.” Mom had picked it up at school after Principal Nelson showed the video to Derrick’s parents. As soon as she got home, she downloaded the video to a flash drive, locked the drive in her desk drawer, then erased the video from my phone.

“Want a ride home from school today?” Collin asked.

“I can’t. I have a doctor’s appointment.” It was a ridiculous counseling session. Mom told me it was only to ensure I didn’t have anger management issues.

“Hey Rebecca… Collin.” It was Paige. I turned to her as she walked over. She had called me, too, and told me how she had reported what she saw by the classroom. Paige had restored my faith in humanity.

Paige nodded and gave me a knowing look. I had told her how Collin had called Derrick out. According to Paige, Collin’s good looks and the Derrick incident had propelled Collin into most- popular stratosphere.

“See you!” Paige called out and continued on, melting into the hallway crowd.

I turned back to Collin, my heart soaring. “My mom’s always late. Wait for me after school, by the car drop-off. Okay?”

“Okay.” His gaze lingered on my hair. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks.” I had skipped using the blow dryer and let my hair dry into its natural soft waves. The new me didn’t need precisely straightened hair every day.

Everybody at school knew about my makeover. They had seen me in action while I dealt with Derrick and his friends. I had certainly made my entrance!

As I waved bye to Collin and trekked to class, I thought of how my friends from Israel would have reacted to my return to school. Mia would be cheering me on. Jake would be cracking stupid sex jokes. And Avi and Ben would be insisting that Derrick deserved to be slapped.