Punch Like a Girl (20 page)

“And take your place?” I pretend to punch him.

He pretends to duck.

For a moment, it feels like everything's back to normal.

“Where have you been, Tori? I've been trying to reach you!” Alena hugs me and then kisses both my cheeks.

“Sorry, I was—”

“She forgot about the little people,” Jamarlo says, the harsh tone creeping back into his voice, reminding me that things still aren't okay between us. “Her eyes are on bigger fish.”

“Like shark?” Alena smirks at him.

“Like your face,” Jamarlo teases.

Alena puts her hands on her hips and pretends to be offended. “Are you calling me a fish-face?”

I want to wrap my arms around them both and pull them in for a group hug, but I'm not sure if Jamarlo would tolerate it.

“What's going on?” Carmen strolls toward us, ready to break up our trio.

Alena gives Carmen a friendly smile. Jamarlo dives deep into tongue action with her. I step back. Who needs to watch them slurp out each other's tonsils?

“Well, time for class.” I grab my books and shut my locker.

Carmen detaches from Jamarlo. “Hey, Tori,” she calls. Her lips are still wet. Gross.

“Hey, Carmen.” I tense up, ready for her to say something insulting.

“Good job with that kid.” She gives me half a salute. “You're like a real live hero or something.”

“Or something,” I say. Then I leave for class.

Later that day, on my way into the shelter, Peggy calls me into the office and closes the door.

“Did I do something wrong?” I can't handle more trouble right now.

“Why would you ask that?” Peggy gives me a quizzical look and sits on the edge of her neat-as-a-pin desk. She picks up the phone, presses a few buttons and then says, “Can you ask Rita to come to the office?”

I fidget with the straps on my cast and shift from foot to foot. “What is this about?”

Peggy straightens her shoulders. “I just thought you should know that Rita and Casey will be leaving us soon.”

“What?” I gape at her. “Are you kidding?”

“I know you've become quite close to them, and I'm breaking protocol by sharing this news with you, but your situation is unique and we decided—”

There's a quick knock on the door and then Rita steps into the room, shutting the door behind her. Her hair has been dyed three shades lighter, to a golden brown, and it's cut in a tidy bob. I've never seen Rita look so good.

“Did you tell her?” she asks Peggy.

“I was in the process.” Peggy presses her lips together.

“She said you're leaving with Casey. Is it true?” I ask Rita, trying not to think about how much I'll miss Casey.

“Unfortunately.” Rita's eyes get misty. “Casey and I will be starting a new life. A new apartment in a new town. It's part of a relocation plan the police suggested.”

“But it's not fair that you have to leave,” I say. “Casey's father is in custody. The police—”

“The police have charged him. There will be a trial, including our video testimony. Stewart will get some jail time. But then what?” Rita shakes her head. “What if he gets out one day? What if he's released on bail? We need to move now, while he can't track us.”

I shudder. “Where are you going?”

“I don't know yet,” Rita says, “but even if I did, I couldn't talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Rita and Casey have to cut all ties with the people they know, even change their names.” Peggy pauses. “They can't leave a trail to follow.”

“It's all a little overwhelming”—Rita grips my hand—“and we'll miss friends like you terribly, but it's the right thing to do.”

I blink back tears, not sure what to say. That they should stay because I want them to?

“This is all confidential,” Peggy says, “but we wanted you to know.”

“When are you leaving?” I can't imagine not seeing Casey here at the shelter every shift.

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I swallow.

“I had to tell you.” Rita embraces me and then pulls away to examine my face.

“Does Casey know you're leaving?” I ask.

“Yes.” Her eyes are sympathetic. “We thought it would be better if she knew, so she can prepare for it, if possible.”

“You can say goodbye to her today.” Peggy's voice is gruff. “Just keep it quiet. The other kids don't know.”

I leave the office in a daze and wander to the school-age room at the back of the building. The door is open a crack, and I see Casey doing a jigsaw puzzle on the floor with the other kids. Her shoulder-length hair has been styled into a pixie cut. Maybe Sal's mother has been here with her scissors.

I lean against the doorjamb and watch Casey pick up a piece and try to fit it in. It's only been a few weeks since I met her, but she'll leave a massive hole in my life when she goes. With her around, I feel more focused, stronger.

“What's wrong?” Sal appears in the hallway beside me.

I step backward, keeping a good distance between Sal and me. I don't want any more disturbing moments like in the ravine. “I'm not supposed to talk about it,” I say. “Peggy's orders.”

“Well, if Peggy's giving orders, we'd all better listen,” he jokes, probably to lighten my mood.

“No kidding,” I say. Then the tears come, without asking.

Not now
,
I think. But tears aren't rational.

“Hey, it's okay.” Sal's voice cracks. He pats my back with his big hand a few times, and I'm more than a little surprised when I let him. Maybe because he smells good, like oranges. He must have been preparing a snack for the kids.

I lean my head against him and try not to gasp for air when I sob. He holds me tentatively. I only come up to the middle of his chest. His arms could wrap around me twice.

“You okay?” he asks when I get control again.

I have a fleeting thought that I wish we could be more than friends.

“I don't know.” I wipe my eyes, being careful not to smudge my makeup, and then ask, “Do you think Casey will be okay?”

Sal pats my back again and retreats a step, like he's trying not to crowd me. “Well, she escaped her father, got interviewed by the police and is still talking.”

“She is?” I say.

“Yup.” He sweeps his bangs off his face, grinning. “When I arrived today, she told me she has a haircut
like Tori's
.”

“Yeah?” I manage half a smile. Her pixie cut is hardly a shaved head. “Thanks, Sal.” My chin trembles.

We lock eyes until a wail from the preschool room breaks the silence.

“You'd better go,” I say.

“Yeah. Before there's a meltdown in there.”

Then he's gone, even though I wish he wasn't.

I head into the school-age room to share one last afternoon with Casey.

“Great! Tori's here,” Jia says when she sees me. “Now we can make those Rice Krispie squares.”

The kids cheer, even Casey.

“Sounds good,” I say, amazed by how life continues relentlessly no matter what horrible things happen.

We head to the tiny residents' kitchen, beside the main kitchen where Sheerma is making dinner. Rachel tries to take charge of making the Rice Krispie squares, but Jia reins her in. Jonah wants to stir the melting marshmallows “faster than Superman can do it.” Manny and Casey can't see into the pot, so they share a chair beside the stove while I stand nearby, making sure no one falls.

At one point, Casey runs her tiny fingers over my head. My hair has a few days of growth; I haven't shaved since late Friday night.

“Are you growing your hair?” she asks.

“Maybe,” I say, surprising myself. I didn't know I was considering it.

“Good.” She smiles and grips my good arm to keep her balance. “Then we'll look the same.”

Casey and I don't say a proper goodbye. I think neither one of us wants to admit it's really going to happen. At the end of my shift, I give her a longer hug than usual.

“Be strong,” I say. She smells like warm marshmallows.

“Like you and Monty.” Her smile is intense, her eyes fierce.

“Like yourself.” I turn away, determined not to cry again. Then I push open the shelter's triple-locked steel door and head home.

FLASH
to get sudden insight

Without Casey, the shelter seems smaller. A new mother and her baby move in, and Sal and Francine get busier in the preschool room. I try not to show Rachel, Jonah and Manny how lost I feel without Casey.

But when Rachel yanks me over to admire her painting, I miss Casey's soft fingers curling around mine. When little Manny grins up at me, I miss Casey's huge, unblinking, indigo eyes. When I see Jonah's tight curls, I miss Casey's messy brown hair, so often tangled at the back of her head.

Most of all, I miss how she made me feel. Strong. Capable. Loved.

Life returns to “normal.” I watch a Screamin' Demons soccer game without Matt showing up. My parents insist on buying me a new phone, so we can keep in touch. I'm just grateful that I get a new phone number too. No more texts from Melody and Matt. I catch up in my classes and finish my final assignments so I can study for my exams next week. I try to care about schoolwork, but when my mind drifts back to Casey, I miss her all over again.

On Friday, after my shift at the shelter, I head over to Alena's house, hoping she's free. My parents have been hovering over me with anxious faces, and I need a break from their constant attention.

“Victoria!” Alena's mom meets me at the door with their two small pugs wheezing and snorting behind her. “You'll stay for dinner. Yes?” She wipes her hands on her jeans before kissing my cheeks. “I'm making rosemary chicken in phyllo pastry. One of your favorites.”

The pugs circle my feet, whining for attention.

“I don't want to be any trouble.” I scratch behind their ears, just the way they like it.