That Night (8 page)

“At you? Nah. It was a long time ago.”

But his voice sounded kind of distant, and when I reached for his hand he didn’t hold it as tight, and he didn’t look over and smile like always. I stared out the window, blinked back tears. I couldn’t wait to graduate, to leave this stupid school and Shauna far behind.

*   *   *

Ryan dropped me off. We kissed and he said, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” but I watched him driving off, feeling anxious when he burned rubber at the end of the road. I knew it was crazy, but I couldn’t help worrying, for the first time ever, that he might break up with me, that this had changed things between us. My mom was serving dinner, but I said I wasn’t feeling well, ignored her curious look, and went straight to my room. She’d be the last person I’d confide in about a problem with Ryan—hell, she’d probably throw a party and celebrate. Safe in my room, I put on some music and lay on my bed, my hand on my stomach, trying to hold in the sick feeling. I told myself it would be fine, Ryan would get over it. Then I got mad. If Ryan wanted to dump me over something I did three years ago, he was a jerk. It’s not like he’d been a total saint before we met. Still … my gaze drifted over to my photo of us.

I couldn’t imagine my life without him, couldn’t imagine facing school or even walking down the hall if I didn’t have Ryan. The thought was so awful, the pressure in my chest enormous. I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, then stayed under the hot spray until I felt a little better, the terrifying emotions flowing out of me. It was going to be okay. It had to be okay.

An hour later I was on my bed writing Ryan a letter when I heard a soft knock at my window. It was Ryan. He was wearing a brown knit hat pulled low, almost to his eyes, and an older leather jacket, open over a gray sweater. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold. I motioned for him to stay there and checked that my door was locked. I could hear my parents talking downstairs and dishes clanging in the kitchen. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to hear anything, but my window could be loud, the wood tight so that it always squeaked when I slid it open. I turned up my music, then opened the window fast.

“What are you doing here? My parents are downstairs.”

He must have climbed up to the roof from the tree behind my house. The tree Nicole and I had climbed down last summer, sneaking to the beach for a late-night swim, coming home cold and shivering but exhilarated by our bravery.

“I missed you.” He smiled.

I didn’t smile back, still upset about earlier. “You could’ve called.”

His smiled dropped. “I had to see you. I’m sorry, baby. For how I was being after school. I don’t like thinking about you with anyone else, and sometimes I forget it hasn’t always just been you and me, you know?”

“It’s the same for me when I see your ex.”

He leaned into the window, grabbed some of my hair, and pulled me closer until we were eye to eye. “I never felt anything for her like I do for you. She was nothing. What we have is real and forever, okay?”

“Okay.”

We kissed for a long time, him still sitting on my roof, the cool winter air wrapping around us and swirling into my bedroom, my hands on his warm back under his sweater. His hands on my face, my hair, our mouths desperate, needing to show each other how much we mattered, how this was all that mattered.

*   *   *

The next morning at school, Amy met me at my locker and said, “Oh, my God. I just heard. Are you and Ryan okay?” She’d been sick the day before and never saw what Shauna had done, but she’d already heard the rumors. When I told her what Shauna had written and how Ryan and I had made up last night, she gave me a big hug and told me not to worry about it, that Ryan was a good guy.

“And don’t worry about Jason Leroy,” she said. “I’ve messed around with a few losers myself.” I laughed.

At lunchtime, Shauna drove by me and Ryan while we were making out in the parking lot. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye. Shauna’s face fell when she saw us, and it was obvious she was trying not to stare, but she looked shocked. The other girls weren’t smiling either. I kissed Ryan harder.

The next day at school Amy didn’t come to my locker in the morning, which was unusual. We always walked to our first class together—Ryan’s was in the other building. Thinking she might still be sick, I headed down to her locker, passing a few kids who gave me dirty looks in the hallway. One of the girls, Tricia, was someone Amy and I hung out with sometimes. She was a toughie like us, always wearing black and had lots of piercings. When she passed by, she gave me a shove with her shoulder.

I stopped. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

She turned around and said, “I can’t believe you did that to Amy.”

“Did what?” I was getting a sick feeling.

“Like you don’t know.”

Then I saw Amy coming down the hall toward me, a few of our other friends behind her. Her face was angry but she also looked like she’d been crying. She stopped in front of me. “Thanks a lot, Toni.”

“For what? What’s going on?”

“I heard what you told Warren. He
broke up
with me.”

“This is insane. I haven’t talked to Warren—I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

The girls behind her were all shaking their heads and rolling their eyes. I heard one of them whisper, “What a lying cow.”

“I know you called him last night and told him I cheated on him at Christmas with Nathan.” Amy looked around, saw how many people were watching. “Which is a total lie.”

Amy
had
fooled around with Nathan, but I’d never said a word to anyone. Not many people knew, just Nathan and a few of his friends. One of them was Cameron, the guy Shauna was getting cozy with at the party. I had a feeling he’d told Shauna—and Shauna must have called Warren, pretending to be me. I remembered how good she was at mimicking people when we were younger, how she could copy the exact tone and pitch of their voice, how she even called home for me once and fooled my own mother.

“I never called Warren, Amy. It had to be Shauna—she was pissed that she didn’t break me and Ryan up. Why would I do something like that?”

“Warren
swore
it was you.” Amy’s voice rose. Now kids were stopping in the hallway to listen.

I was too stunned to defend myself. I could only stand there and take it, my heart beating fast. But Amy was still going strong.

“Warren told me the other stuff you said, about how my parents were poor and he could do better than me. That I dressed like a homeless person.”

“I would
never
say that.” Amy bought all her clothes at the thrift store and tried to pretend it was cool, but I knew she’d rather have new stuff.

“God, you can’t stop lying.”

My shock and confusion were wearing off and now I was also pissed.

“You’re nuts if you believe any of this crap. Think about it, Amy.”

But Amy wasn’t thinking anymore, didn’t want to hear the truth. “You think your relationship with Ryan is soooo perfect, like no one else can have a boyfriend. He’s the only thing you even talk about anymore.”

Was
that
what this was really about? Amy was jealous?

“That’s not true,” I said. “I still call you to hang out.”

“Yeah.” She snorted. “When Ryan’s busy. You’re totally lame now.”

“Screw you, Amy. You’re the one who was always canceling our plans so you could follow Warren around—no wonder he broke up with you.”

Amy’s face was red, tears filling her eyes. “I
hate
you.”

She spun around and walked off. Some kids followed, others stood around, waiting to see what I would do. I could barely move, still clutching my binder. My face was burning hot.
Ryan, I have to get to Ryan.

I ran down the hall, away from everyone, and skipped my first class, hiding out by Ryan’s truck, waiting for him to come out for a cigarette break.

“Toni, what happened?” he said as soon as he saw me. “Are you okay?”

“I hate this school and everyone in it.” I wiped away angry tears.

He pulled me in for a hug. I hung on tight, my heart finally slowing as I felt his solid warmth, the strength in his body.

He murmured against my hair, “We’re almost out of here.”

I tried to focus on his words, but I kept hearing Amy say “I
hate
you.” I’d never had anyone say that to me before. Had never felt like someone meant it.

*   *   *

The next few weeks at school, all through the rest of January and the first week of February, were brutal. Ryan and a few of his friends were the only people who would talk to me. Even the guys’ girlfriends would give me the cold shoulder if the boys weren’t around. I was doing terrible in my classes. My mom and I had a big fight one night, after she said, again, that I was spending too much time with Ryan, and she used my grades as proof. I told her she didn’t know what she was talking about. She tried for the reasonable thing, sat on my bed and said, “Then talk to me and tell me what’s going on. None of your friends call, your teachers say you’re surly and difficult, you hide out in your room for hours…”

I was so embarrassed, hearing what my life had become, that I flipped out completely. “Maybe you’re the problem. Did you ever think about that?” Then I stormed out of the house and walked down to the river. My dad came and got me an hour later.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” he said, “but I hope you know you can always talk to us—no matter what. If it’s drugs—”

“Jesus Christ, Dad. You’re as bad as Mom.”

“We’re worried about you.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m fine.” But I wasn’t, and he knew it. He rested his hand on my shoulder and didn’t say anything else. I was disappointed by that in an odd way. Part of me wanted him to press, wanted him to force it out of me. But he’d given up, and so had I. When we got home, my mom was in her office. I closed my door and turned on my music. She knocked a little while later but I ignored her. I heard my dad say something to her, then they both walked away.

I’d tried to call Amy a couple of times, but her mom said she didn’t want to speak to me—and the way her mom’s voice sounded, stiff and cold, told me that Amy had confided in her. It made me feel even worse, thinking her mom believed I’d really said all those mean things. She’d always been so nice to me.

Nicole had heard what happened, but I was too upset to even talk to her. I also didn’t want her telling Mom all about it because then she’d get involved and probably talk to our teachers or something stupid like that. I told Nicole some girls had been spreading lies, and acted like I didn’t give a shit, blowing it off. But inside, I was a mess. I was barely eating and was losing weight.

Ryan was really upset with me about it, saying, “That’s a stupid way to deal with it. You
have
to eat.”

We got in a fight about it one night when I couldn’t finish my hamburger, hadn’t even touched my fries. I tried to explain that I just didn’t have an appetite, food turned my stomach, but he kept pressuring me to take another bite. Finally I said, “Jesus, Ryan. Get off my back and stop treating me like a little kid!” I threw my food out and made him drop me off early. Then I tossed and turned for hours, feeling bad for how I’d snapped at him when I knew he was just worried about me.
I
was worried about me.

I closed my eyes and sent Ryan a mental message. It was something we’d started doing a couple of months ago. If something was bothering one of us, we’d close our eyes and mentally tell each other our problems. My fights with my mom. His fighting with his dad and worrying about his mom, who was working all the time, so tired she could barely drive home. The next day we’d check if the other person had sensed something and we always had, always knew when the other was upset.

Around one in the morning, Ryan came to my window, knocking softly. I opened it a crack, holding my breath against the noise.

“What are you doing here? My parents—”

“They’re sound asleep. Your dad has his window open and I could hear them snoring.”

“Nicole might hear you.” She was a pretty solid sleeper, but you never knew.

“Stop worrying so much. Let’s go for a drive.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.” He held up a joint with a smile.

If I got caught I’d be in big shit, but my life was already so screwed up it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Ryan and I drove around for an hour, smoking a joint, filling the truck with the sweet scent of marijuana while Pearl Jam wailed in the background. We didn’t talk about anything serious, not until we parked up at the lake, overlooking the water. Then he turned to me.

“I’m sorry I was giving you a hard time,” he said. “But it scares me that you’re not taking care of yourself.”

My face hot with shame, I stared out at the water. “I know. You don’t have to be with me if you don’t like it.” It was a challenge, one I didn’t really mean, and he knew it.

“Shut up. I’m not going anywhere. I know it’s because things are so shitty at school right now, but you have to hang in there and push past it.”

“Things are more than shitty. I don’t have anybody.”

“You have me.”

I turned to him, tears dripping down my face.

“I miss Amy.” Though I’d been spending more time the last year with Ryan, which had obviously annoyed Amy more than I realized, Amy was still my best girlfriend. I missed her sense of humor, missed talking about music, our boyfriends, helping each other with homework, gossiping, all of that.

“I shouldn’t have said that stuff about her following Warren around,” I said. “She was kind of right, I haven’t been calling her as much. I feel really bad.”

He wiped away one of my tears with his thumb. “I know, babe. But don’t forget Amy’s also pissed she got found out—it’s not your fault she cheated on Warren. You guys might still work things out.”

I took a breath, looked at him, and said, “Tell me again how good things are going to be soon.”

We talked for a while about the apartment we were going to get, the stuff his mom had given us, how much money he’d saved, all the places we were going to travel. I closed my eyes and focused on his words, letting my head drop against the back of the seat, letting the marijuana take over. He was right, none of this shit counted in the big picture. School was over in a few months. I could make it until then. Screw Amy if she didn’t want to be my friend anymore. If she was willing to believe Shauna, she was an idiot.