The Girl Page 9

I could go down stairs and tell her that I didn’t mean it like she took it but that doesn’t really help or change anything. It still leaves her feeling hurt and less than. I could just wait. Wait for her to cool off and then apologize and acknowledge that I maimed her feelings. I could hide in my room indefinitely and read through the entire stack of books on my side table finally. I could confront her, talk it out and move forward. Ugh, I know what has to happen. But like I said, defer to item 6 if I don’t show up for school tomorrow.

  I ease the journal shut and clip the pen to the spiral binding, taking my time. Dr. Richardson will have a field day with this entry. She’ll probably want Eve and I together for a joint session ‘check in.’ I know it’s a sensitive topic for Eve, but I can’t help my own feelings. As far as motherly sentiment goes, Nora is it for me. I don’t know if it resulted from our shared circumstance or if it was simply just her nature? All I know is at some point up on that mountain, I started thinking of Nora as a mother, my mother. And she was a damn good one. She protected me, loved me, made me feel stable in an environment that was anything but, and, she saved me. She saved us both.

  Ping.

  My head whips to the window that faces the side yard. I hop off the bed and head to look out it when something hits the glass and cracks it. I jump back, chest heaving with fear until I hear a muffled curse. I squint and cup my hands against the window to look through.

  Dallas is in the side yard, freaking out. He paces, swats at a hydrangea bush and looks up to the window which now has a lovely crack spreading from top right all the way down to the bottom. I hoist the window up and stick my head out.

  “Holy hell, Charlotte, I am so sorry,” he says, his words rushed and his face crumpled. “I assumed there was a screen.”

  “There is, but I haven’t pulled it down yet.” I point to the top half of the window.

  Dallas scratches at his throat looking nervous. “It’s okay. You aren’t going to jail for it,” I whisper shout. “Why are you here?”

  “I texted you hours ago.”

  “My phones downstairs.”

  “I finished the truck! I wanted to take you for a ride. I have something to show you.” His eyes glimmer with hopefulness in the moonlight and my heart feels like it’s swelling in my chest. I can’t. I shouldn’t. I need to deal with Eve first, but my heart and my brain aren’t agreeing. I tell him to wait there before I run to the closet and pull the box from the top shelf that contains the metal fire ladder. It’s for emergencies—for a fire—but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the pounding of my heart, not the rules, not right or wrong, just getting down to Dallas.

  I hook the ladder top to the windowsill and let the rest fall down. It smacks against the house, and I freeze—listening. I release a breath when I don’t hear anything and climb out my window.

  The truck is painted baby blue. It has a white stripe down the length of it on either side and when he turns the key it makes all the noise. It’s old. Like so old you have to roll the windows down by hand. There’s a radio and a tape player and I’m completely enamored with it.

  “This is awesome!”

  “Glad you approve,” he says. “Wanna drive?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t, I don’t have my license.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “I don’t want to drive.” I shrug. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem appealing to me.”

  “It’s freedom, City, you should try it.”

  We’re near our park. There’s no traffic at this time of night. Everyone’s comfortably sitting on couches, in bed watching Netflix or finishing up homework before turning in for the night. Dallas pulls into a large, empty parking lot and stops.

  “What are you doing?” A warm, humid breeze blows through the open windows, sending my hair across my face.

  “Teaching you to drive.”

  “Uh, uh,” I say and shake my hands at him. “I like being a passenger.”

  “Think of it as a safety precaution. What if I can’t drive and we need to get to a hospital or home?”

  “I’ll call someone.”

  “What if there’s no time for that?” he pushes.

  I sigh and lean my head on the back window of the cabin. “Fine,” I blow out.

  Dallas claps his hands together and jumps out of the truck. I slide across the bench to the driver’s side.

  He explains the pedals and other little knobs and sticks I’m supposed to know about before giving me permission to put it in drive. Slowly I let my foot off the brake and the truck begins to ease forward. I slam my foot back down and clutch the wheel for safety.

  Dallas chuckles. “Again, this time you need to actually use the gas.”

  I inhale a breath to fortify my resolve and try again. We’re moving forward, headed for the end of the lot and I begin to panic.

  “What now?!” my voice high pitched and irritating even to me.

  “Turn,” he says deadpan.

  I pull on the wheel, completely forgetting that there are two pedals. I really have to yank on the wheel to make it turn.

  “I can’t. Why’s it so hard?”

  “No power steering. Now pay attention.” We’re careening for the small patch of grass between the parking lot and main road and not slowing down and my entire body goes into full flight mode. “Charlotte, turn the truck or brake,” Dallas says, a hint of warning in his voice. My hands come off the wheel and cover my eyes. I scream.

  “Charlotte!” Both my feet hit the pedals and smash them both all the way to the floor. The engine makes a crazy worked-up sound and we lurch to a stop. Dallas’s hands are on the wheel when I peek through my fingers. He nudges my right foot. “Let off the gas.”

  He’s pressed against my side. I let both feet off the pedals and shudder.

  “Shit,” he shouts, as we start moving forward.

  In an instant he’s basically on my lap, crushing my legs into the seat. The truck stops and he moves the stick to the park position. He’s breathing hard, and I’m not breathing at all as he throws the door open and practically falls out.

  “You’re never driving again.” He stares at me sitting in the driver’s seat, frozen and then laughs. That tight feeling attacks my chest, the one that makes my nose tingle and my eyes well up.

  “I told you I didn’t want to.”

  His hands are on his knees, supporting his doubled over, laughing frame when he snaps his eyes to mine.

  “Don’t cry. No, no, no. Don’t start crying,” he says, moving toward me. “You did fine—mostly.”

  “You’re mocking me now?” I shriek.

  “No. Well yes. I mean, I found something that you’re terrible at. I mean, who just lets go of the wheel and stomps on the brake and the gas at the same time?” He reaches out for me but I pull back.

  I sniffle and cross my arms over my chest and stare over his shoulder at nothing like a petulant child.

  “You’re kinda sexy when you’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  Dallas arches a brow at me. “What are you then?”

  It takes a moment to nail down the exact words to use. “Crestfallen. Mortified.”

  “You can’t be good at everything, City. It’s okay.”

  I huff and wiggle in my seat. I’m not used to failing so miserably at something. It leaves an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Dallas leans into the cab and smushes my face between his hands. “I still think you’re perfect.” He presses his lips against mine softly before pulling away. “Move over, speed racer, I’ll stick to driving.”

  I shake my head at him.

  “Again.”

  Dallas sucks his bottom lip between his teeth before he bursts out laughing.

  13

  Charlotte

  Eve lost her ever-loving mind on me when I came home that night. Detective Salve was at the house and the two of them were having a heated conversation when I walked in the door.

  “What
the hell were you thinking Lotte?”

  I shrugged, unable to form words.

  “Is everything okay? This isn’t like you,” Salve said.

  “I can’t believe you called him here?” I seethed.

  “You were gone. GONE. Window open, ladder dangling. Phone here,” she jabbed the kitchen table with a finger. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know—not call him, though. You keep telling me to be a normal teenager. To act out, have fun, live a little and I finally do and you call him? No offense, Salve.” I turned my gaze to him and gave my best apologetic face.

  Salve maintained his serious face. “None taken. I think I’ll head out now. You got this covered Eve?”

  “No. No, Salve. I want you to show her the photos.”

  “What photos?”

  Salve sighed.

  Eve collapsed into a kitchen chair. “Where were you tonight?”

  “With Dallas. What photos?”

  Salve pushed a file folder across the table toward me.

  “How well do you know Dallas Baribeau?”

  “Well. Why? What is that?” I’d asked. “Oh, my God, you ran a check on him, didn’t you?” I screamed at Eve.

  “Calm down, Lotte,” Salve urged. “She’s just trying to protect you.”

  “Look at them,” Eve says in her best stern-mother voice.

  I flipped the file open with a single finger as if it was contaminated. The photo on top, showed a bloody mess of a face and I gasped.

  “What is this?”

  “That…” Eve stabbed the photo with her index finger, “is what Dallas did to his last foster mom’s boyfriend.”

  I moved the photo to look at the rest. My stomach clenched and burned. Dallas didn’t just hit him a few times, he beat the man’s face to a pulp—literally. The photos were sharp and clear but the subject looked blurry and swollen and beaten within an inch of his life.

  “This isn’t a surprise.”

  “You knew?”

  “He told me. He told me what that man was doing to little boys. I’m not saying it’s right. But it wasn’t out of malice. It was to save someone.”

  Salve’s phone rang. He stepped into the living room to take it, leaving Eve and I in awkward silence. When he returned he excused himself—duty called. He took the file and the horrible photos and left.

  “He’s dangerous, Lotte.”

  “He’s not!”

  “You’re not allowed to see him anymore.”

  “Why, because he defended a child? Protected a little boy?”

  “Because he’s capable of violence and I won’t lose you again!”

  “Capable of violence?” I screamed, and slapped my palms on the table. “I shot a man, what does that say about me? What if someone slapped Holden’s photos on a table in front of you? What would that look like?”

  Tears streamed down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But you can’t see him. What if that was you?”

  I had no answer for that, so I stayed silent.

  “I’m not breaking up with him because you didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger when it counted. Dallas and I are not monsters.”

  Eve recoiled as if I had physically struck her. “I don’t like it, Lotte.”

  “I don't care if you don't like it. It's not about you.”

  A sob ripped from Eve as I stomped past her. I tried to harness my anger, to hold onto it, but as I climbed the stairs to my room all I felt was shame for saying something so horrible to my sister. We all have different strengths and mine was being able to take that gun from her hand, squeeze the trigger and save us all, when she couldn’t. I never held that against her. Never. My words to her were harsh and uncalled for, and wrong. So wrong.

  “I screwed up. So hard,” I cry. We’re in his truck at the far end of the park. The sun has set and the flame-licked sky is dark now. Work was awful. None of us spoke. Not Nora, not Eve, not me. We avoided each other like the plague.

  Dallas frowns and pulls me against him. Tomorrow he graduates, and we still haven’t talked about what his plans are for the next year. I don’t know how to bring it up. Part of me is worried if I mention it I will spook him. Drive him away by making plans for a future. I’m not confident that he feels the same about me as I do for him.

  “I’m sorry I caused this,” he sighs.

  “You didn’t. Don’t you see? You didn’t. This was always going to bubble up to the surface someday. These are issues between me and Eve that have existed for years now. If not you, it would have surfaced some other way.”

  “Give her some time to adjust, I’m sure things will be okay,” he says. “I wanna show you something.”

  I sniffle away the last of my tears and nod. “Okay.”

  He starts the truck and drives toward the highway.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.”

  “You close yours,” I say.

  “Come on Charlotte, trust me.”

  I can’t say no to him. It’s magic, voodoo, I don’t know—but when it comes to Dallas I’m at his mercy. I bounce in my seat and hear gravel or maybe dirt under the tires.

  “Don’t peek,” he says, and squeezes my thigh. I smile and keep them closed. The truck rolls to a stop. “Wait right here. Don’t peek.”

  His door opens and the truck rocks as he slides out. I sit with my eyes closed, waiting. He pulls open my door and I jump a little in surprise. His hands start at my shoulders and slide their way down my arms to my hands.

  Dallas helps me down from the truck and kisses my forehead before leading me somewhere. Little rocks scatter as I walk and twigs crunch underfoot.

  “Okay, open them,” he says. He’s standing to my left, still holding my hand, staring at me. I blink to clear away the blur. We’re at the edge of the quarry; the water below, black and slick, shining in the moonlight; and above us—the sky glitters with thousands of stars. They twinkle and shine. The Milky Way, a thick band sweeping through the sky like a visible streak. My jaw drops open at the splendor of it all. The view sucks me backward in time to the mountain, and the incredible views that city and town lights obscure from sight.

  “Have you ever seen anything so stunning?” he says. But from the corner of my eye I notice he’s looking at me, not the sky.

  I nod and lean into him. It looks like a million stars scattered across a black blanket. This world is just a grain of sand in the universe, but here with him, I feel big—salient.

  I’m moved by the beauty of everything around us. The stars, the precipice we stand on, the deep unknown water below.

  By him.

  By the moment.

  “Let’s take that road trip,” I say.

  Dallas laughs. “What about the last week of school Ms. GPA?”

  “What about graduation? There are always going to be ‘what-abouts.’ What about now?” I say. I throw a loose stone over the edge of the quarry.

  Dallas grins at me and shakes his head. The stone finally plunks into the water.

  “If you’re looking for someone to tell you that you’re emotional and that this is a bad idea, I’m not that guy.” He turns me to him and wraps his arms around me. I bury my face in the crook of his neck.

  “Good. Take me away somewhere dreams are bigger.”

  He squeezes me tightly against him.

  “Whatever the lady wants,” he whispers.

  Giddiness sweeps through me. “You’d leave? Tomorrow even, for me? Miss graduation?”

  “City, I’d do anything for you.” His eyes sparkle in the moonlight that slices through the sky and I think I’ve never seen anything quite so handsome, ever, than he is right now.

  “Pick me up just before dawn then.” I push myself to my tiptoes to reach his lips. They’re warm and soft and mine for the time being.

  “You’re serious,” he states.

  “Yes.”

  “Charlotte, you’re really sure. You have family and work and school
.”

  “I’m really sure.” I give him my best serious face.

  He kisses me; a short, gentle, loving kiss.

  “I’m going to make this the most epic trip of your life,” he says, as he picks me up and spins me around like a tilt-a-whirl.

  My chest swells with excitement and anticipation. I’ve never made such a bold decision, such a reckless one before, but it feels good. It feels right.

  14

  Charlotte

  At the first light of day, the truck is packed and waiting outside for me. The house is quiet as I exit, Eve asleep inside. ‘I'm sorry, don't worry,’ spelled out in scrabble tiles on the table for her… and Nora. A backpack on my back. Adrenaline pummels my insides making me queasy with excitement and anticipation simultaneously. Dallas leans on the truck frame, arms crossed over his chest, that beholden gaze on his face. Every step I take toward him feels imperatively grandiose. Like I’m walking toward something bigger than myself. My stomach clenches, as if working to hold the trigger on a pinless grenade.

  “You came.” He picks me up and twirls me around.

  “Of course,” I say softly. Being outside at this hour, with the street quiet and the houses still dark makes me feel like a rebel. Like I’m more significant than this measly town and its residents.

  Dallas sets me on my feet, slides my backpack from my shoulder and tosses it into the bed of the truck. Peeking over the edge I see he has two plastic totes and his own backpack in there as well. I clutch my journal and a paperback to my chest.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  “Yes.” I nod. Dallas opens my door for me.

  He pulls a disposable camera from his pocket, leans in the cab with me and says, “Say cheese.” I’m not prepared and am sure he’s caught my picture mid-smile.

  “I wasn’t smiling yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t for show, strictly documentation purposes.”

  He kisses my forehead and backs out of the cab.

  “Oh! I made us something. It’s in the little pocket of my bag.”