House at the End of the Street (5 page)

She watched as he studied her, his eyes falling for a moment to her collarbone, then to her tank, the wet fabric clinging to her skin. “Life’s good when the rest of the world sleeps,” she said. She looked down, noticing that their fingers were just a few inches apart. “Thanks for the ride, Ryan.”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, handing over her backpack. Elissa strode across the front lawn, feeling lighter than she had all day. Everything that had happened at Caitlin’s house seemed less painful now. Ryan Jacobsen
was normal, nice…even a little sexy. Had she imagined it, the way he studied her, as though she were something to be devoured? He’d looked at her with those brown eyes, leaning in, their faces just a foot apart.

As she started up the steps, she turned back one last time. Ryan was still there, still leaning across the seat, watching her bound into the house.
No
, she thought, a smile curling her lips.
I definitely didn’t imagine it.

I
nside, the house was quiet. Elissa set her bag down and moved into the kitchen to search the fridge for something edible. The shelves were mostly empty. There was still some leftover spaghetti, a jar of pickles, American cheese slices, and some unidentifiable cold cuts—salami? Roast beef? She wasn’t sure. She pulled the cheese out, rolling it up the way she used to when she was a kid. Even with some food in her, she still felt off. Her stomach was unsettled. She had a slight headache—a reminder of the party, the pink lemonade–vodka concoction, and what had happened with Tyler.

Tyler. It made her sick, thinking of his hands on her, how he’d tried to pin her down on the bed. He’d been so sure that she wanted him, that he was making her night by forcing himself on her. How many other girls had he done that to? And had she been one of the few to fight back?

She glanced at the clock: 9:53. In less than twelve hours
she would be back at school, alone, trying to make small talk with the goth girl who sat next to her in English. If today had been hard, tomorrow would be worse. Now she had to watch out for Caitlin get-out-of-my-house Aberdeen, or Tyler’s group of stoner friends. She thought of the crowd that had stood by the bottom of the stairs, laughing as she fought Tyler for her phone. She could still feel their eyes on her.

She was thinking about Tyler, about everything, when her mom came down the stairs. The sound of Sarah’s footsteps startled her. “I didn’t know you were home,” Elissa said. “I didn’t see your car outside.”

Sarah came up beside her, resting her hand on Elissa’s back. She was still in her work scrubs. “Best thing about the new house—the garage. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No…I’m fine,” Elissa said, feeling anything but. Whatever momentary excitement she’d felt about meeting Ryan had vanished, giving over to a sense of dread.

“Did Tyler’s mom drop you off? I wanted to say hi.” Sarah peeled a piece of cheese from the pile and took a bite.

“No.…” Elissa looked away, wondering for a second if she should tell Sarah what had happened. “Ryan Jacobsen gave me a ride.”

Sarah straightened up, a stern expression crossing her face. “You want to tell me how you ended up getting a ride with Ryan
Jacobsen
?”

No—she wouldn’t tell Sarah what happened. Her mom couldn’t even hear the name Ryan Jacobsen without getting bent out of shape. How would she feel discovering that Tyler Reynolds, perfect, president-of-the-famine-relieffund honors student, was a date rapist? “No one wanted to give me a ride home. I started walking, and he saw me. He gave me a ride. End of story.”

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. “And you just got into some stranger’s car? At this time of night? Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve come and got you.”

“Yeah right,” Elissa mumbled. When had Sarah ever picked her up before?

Elissa could see what was happening. It was in the way Sarah said “some stranger.” She’d turned against Ryan Jacobsen before she’d even met him. She’d eaten up every word the Reynoldses had said, bought all their nonsense about Ryan being deranged. What did they know? Who were they to talk about family values? They were helping their son run a charity club based around getting drunk and stoned.

“So…” Sarah asked, changing the subject. Her lips curled into a small smile. “How was the meeting?”

Elissa met her mom’s eyes. She wanted to tell her everything. It would be so much easier to tell her everything. But Sarah was looking so hopeful, so determined, Elissa didn’t want to destroy her this-town-will-change-everything dream. At least not until she had to…

“Tyler’s a jerk,” was all she said.

“Because he works hard in school and wants to get into a good college?” Sarah looked at her, the sarcasm oozing in her voice.

Elissa wanted to scream. She’d spent the whole day alone, been assaulted by some stoned idiot, then been kicked out of a party she didn’t even want to go to in the first place. And now her own mother was giving her an attitude? She couldn’t take it anymore—the day needed to end. The only thing good about this night was that it was almost over.

She pushed past her mom, not bothering to look back. “Right,” she said, looking away as the tears welled in her eyes. “That’s it.”

D
uring fifth period Elissa strode out onto the grassy quad, scanning the long picnic tables for somewhere to sit. There was the table of techie kids, their big headphones pulled down over their ears. A few petite girls with nearly identical curly hair sat on a row, picking at their salads. Then her eyes fell on Tyler, Caitlin, Zak, and the rest of the famine relief crew. Tyler waved her over, as if he hadn’t just yesterday tried to molest her.

She glared at him, then turned the other way, finding a shady spot beneath a maple tree. She settled down in the grass and pulled out her sandwich, munching while she played games on her phone, did some light reading, sent an occasional text to a friend in Chicago so she didn’t look
like such a loser. She’d spent all day yesterday alone—this was nothing she couldn’t handle.

She was just finishing sketching a football for a drawing game, when she noticed someone towering above her. Tyler stood, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes focused on a spot behind her. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, his voice slow. “You know, our little misunderstanding at Caitlin’s.”

Misunderstanding? Did he really just say that?
It took all Elissa had not to knee him in the crotch again. “There wasn’t a misunderstanding.” She glared at him until he met her gaze. “They call it date rape. And if you come near me again, I’ll go to the cops. And you can put that on your college application.”

Tyler just stood there, his mouth half open, looking a little stunned. Elissa tossed her phone in her bag and stood up to push past him, unable to be in his presence even a second longer. Misunderstandings were murmured words, or not realizing someone told you to meet them at nine in the morning instead of nine at night. He had thrown her on the bed and grabbed at her. What would’ve happened if she hadn’t pushed him away, if she’d been too drunk? What if she had frozen, too afraid to fight back? The thought infuriated her.

She kept walking and was starting across the quad when she heard her name. “Elissa, right?” the person asked.

It was the girl from Caitlin’s bathroom—the one who’d
fallen asleep on the floor. She looked different with her red hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her crisp button-down revealing just an inch of her collarbone. “I’m Jillian,” the girl said. “Thanks for yesterday.”

“Anytime.”

Jillian stared down the sandwich perched in her lap. “I’m not much of a drinker. I got vomit on Caitlin’s bath mat, and she threw a fit.”

Elissa stared at Tyler’s table, a group of six kids from the party yesterday. They were all huddled together. One boy had stuck straws up his nose to get the others to laugh. “Who are these people?” Elissa asked, disgusted. “Why are you hanging out with them?”

“I’m not sure, really. I used to go out with Tyler, but he’s kind of a—”

“Yeah, well, ‘kind of’ is the understatement of the year,” Elissa said.

Jillian laughed, revealing perfect, I-had-braces-for-sixyears teeth. “How has Woodshire High School been treating you? I bet you miss your friends back home.”

Elissa lowered her head, thinking about Luca, or Laticia, her closest friend in Chicago. She’d texted them since she’d arrived in Woodshire, but she could already feel them pulling away. It took them longer and longer to respond. How much had they had in common though, beyond smoking pot and going to the woods behind the track to cut class? When she actually thought of it, she didn’t know
much about Laticia’s older brothers or the charter school she’d gone to before they met. Elissa had never even told her about her dad and the fight her parents had the night he’d left.

“Sorta,” Elissa tried. “You should have seen where we used to live. It wasn’t like here at all.”

She wanted to go on and tell Jillian about the metal detectors in the school lobby, or how there was a whole list of clothing you couldn’t wear because it might signal you were in a gang. Jillian was the first person to really ask her about herself, and she had this strange desire to spill everything. But before she could say anything else, two boys came up behind them. One looked like Jillian’s twin, his short red hair parted to one side.

“Elissa, this is my brother, Jake, and his best friend, Robbie.”

“Heard you were in a band,” Robbie said. He was shorter than Jake, with hipster glasses and tight, black skinny jeans.

“How did you hear that?” Elissa asked. Ryan Jacobsen had heard her playing her guitar one morning—was it possible someone else had too?

“Google.” Robbie shrugged. “Nothing is sacred anymore. Anyway…you sing, I play drums, Jake plays bass. We have this thing coming up.”

Elissa blushed, knowing he must’ve found her old website, one she’d created two years ago when she was
determined to “get her voice out there.” She’d uploaded all her original songs, half hoping her dad would discover it and call her. He never did.

Robbie dug into the front pocket of his tight jeans, prying out a green flyer that had been folded into a neat square. He passed it Elissa—the paper was still damp with sweat. She opened it anyway, surprised at the block letters on top.
BATTLE OF THE BANDS
, it read, with a graphic of a guitar. Robbie shifted in his gray low-top sneakers.

“What do you say?” Jake asked. “Want to come sing with us?”

Elissa narrowed her eyes at them. “And if you suck?” she asked, only half joking. She’d been invited to play with enough “bands” to know that the good ones were rare. And she couldn’t imagine anything worse than standing on stage, trying to play music, when everyone around her was fumbling to keep up.

“We don’t,” Robbie said. He pulled a memory stick from his backpack and tossed it to Elissa with a new confidence. “That’s a recording of us. Listen to it. If you like it, come check us out—we practice tomorrow.”

Jake and Robbie took off back down the quad, leaving Elissa there to think about it. She’d never been in a band, per se, unless you counted those months before her father left. They would spend good nights in the kitchen, gathered around the table, her dad moving his fingers so quickly over the neck of his guitar she could barely recognize the
chords. Elissa would strum along, and Sarah would sometimes sing with her. Now her father was known entirely separately from them, the bass player for the Constants, a small indie band that toured mostly in Europe. She wondered if Robbie had discovered that too—if that was the real reason he wanted her to join up with them.

Jillian stood, glancing over Elissa’s shoulder at the flyer. “They
are
good,” she said. “You should go. I’m about ready to ditch the famine relief fund anyway.”

She looped an arm through Elissa’s, something Elissa would normally hate. But standing there with Jillian, the idea of this band on the horizon, she felt more at ease than she had since she arrived in Woodshire. Maybe, just maybe, her mom was right—maybe this was a new beginning for them both.