I appreciated that he was trying to make me feel better but I couldn’t help thinking, You can’t keep me safe forever. Not from her.
In the front seat of the truck we changed into jeans and tank tops and I let my hair down, then we headed out to the lake. I tried to get into things at the party, tried to enjoy the roaring fire, getting high with our friends, drinking beer after beer, but I had a hard time catching a buzz, my fear pulling me down, making me edgy and tense. I could tell Ryan was getting annoyed, he kept telling me to relax. But I couldn’t because Shauna had also come out there with the girls and their dates. This time, though, Shauna didn’t even glance in my direction as she laughed with her friends and danced to the stereo someone had set on the hood of a truck. But I couldn’t forget she was there, couldn’t stop wondering what she had planned, couldn’t stop waiting for the hammer to fall.
Around two in the morning, parents were picking kids up, and some of them, who were supposedly sober, were driving off. Finally Shauna and her date, and Rachel and her date, got in a car. They were leaving. I took what felt like my first breath of the night. But then I saw the window rolling down as they drove past Ryan and me. I flinched, waiting for something to be thrown at me. Ryan tried to pull me behind him. Shauna, her head out the back window, said, “Hope you had a nice night, loser.” Then she collapsed back inside, everyone laughing.
Ryan threw his bottle at the back tire rim and the glass exploded. The car stopped, like the driver might get out and fight, but Ryan picked up another bottle as if he were going to throw it, and the car took off. Ryan gave me a hug.
“I’m sorry, baby. At least she didn’t screw up our whole night.”
But then I realized she had—or actually I had. Just like she wanted.
*
Ryan drove up to the highest cliff at the lake and we sat in the truck, looking out over the water, smoking another joint. We had music playing softly, our hands entwined, my head on Ryan’s shoulder. We could see headlights from other trucks and cars in the distance, the glow of campfires.
Ryan said, “Do you want to join them again?”
“Not really, but we can if you want to.”
He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear, “You’re the only person I want to be with.”
I closed my eyes, smelling his cologne, feeling the heat of his body, the solidness of his shoulder under my cheek, and let the music wash away Shauna and Nicole and my parents and everything that had happened that year. We had graduated. It was over. Shauna was over.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ECHO BEACH HALFWAY HOUSE, VICTORIA
MARCH 2012
The halfway house was on a quiet tree-lined street two blocks from the ocean. Whenever there was a crime in the neighborhood, the police came knocking on our door first. The house was old and drafty but big enough—three stories high—to house twenty-five parolees. The staff had offices on the main floor, and we had to sign in and out at the front desk. The kitchen was also on the main floor and we were responsible for our own food. Everyone had a set of dishes and cutlery, and a small cupboard. Until I found a job I’d get a minimum allowance of $77 per week. Once I was working, I’d have to pay a small rent.
I’d arrived in the afternoon, feeling exhausted and messy. The first thing I did was take a shower. It had been years since I’d had one to myself, since I could actually lock the door and blast the hot water. I didn’t have to watch everyone around me, my body tense. Even now, I still caught my breath when I heard a movement out in the hall. I paused, listened. It was nothing, just someone walking to her room. I lathered my body again and again, face up to the water, eyes closed, glorying in the moment, the strong water pressure that hadn’t turned to a freezing cold trickle after five minutes. Last year, when I was still on temporary absences, I’d never been able to relax long enough to have a shower, just took sponge baths in the sink—I could hear easier without the water running.