The Reaping

CHAPTER FIVE





We sat quietly for several long minutes, him reliving the nightmare, me digesting my family’s horrible history. I knew I’d have questions. It only made sense after such an astonishing revelation. But, at that moment, I couldn’t think of one. I was too shocked to think much past the sinister portrait Dad had painted.

“The next morning, I waited until your mother was in the shower. I took you and left.” He paused then added under his breath, “And never went back.”

The jingling of the telephone forced me from my shocked shell. On wooden legs, I rose from the couch and made my way to the kitchen where the phone rested on the counter.

Leah’s voice brought me back to reality like a bucket of cold water to the face. “Mom wants you to come for dinner tonight. She fixed pineapple upside down cake.”

Dina Kirby had adopted me, figuratively speaking. From the first time we’d met, she’d been the mother I’d always wanted, but never had. She took me shopping with them, she took me to the movies with them, she took me swimming with them in the summer and skiing with them in the winter. And she always invited me over when she fixed my favorite dessert, pineapple upside down cake.

I could’ve cried. Never had the longing for a mother, a normal mother, been as poignant as it was right then. Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away. Plus it would give me a chance to apologize to Leah.

“What time?” I wasn’t even going to ask if I could go. I was going. Period.

“Six or so.”

“Okay. See you in a while.”

After I laid the phone back in its cradle, I walked back to the living room. Without so much as a pause or a glance in Dad’s direction, I continued on to my room. When I turned to close the door behind me, I saw Dad sitting on the couch. His head was cradled in his hands. From across the room I felt his grief and misery, an echo of the pain in my own chest. His shoulders shook with sobs too quiet for me to hear. For an instant, I thought to go to him, offer him some small comfort, but tonight, for the first time that I could remember, I had none to give.

********

At nearly seven that night, I sat with Leah and her parents around their oval dinner table, listening to their family chatter. Their normal family chatter. It was the soothing balm my bruised and tender soul needed.

“But I thought you liked Johnny Depp,” Dina was saying to Leah. “I wouldn’t have rented it if I’d known that.”

“I do, Mom. I just really wanted to watch something funny. And you know how much I love Adam Sandler.”

“What do you think, Carson?” Dina turned her cornflower eyes to me. “You get the tiebreaker vote. Do I go back to the video store?”

Before I could answer, Leah’s father, Bruce, spoke up. “I say we save Johnny Depp for the weekend. Derek might like that kind of thing.”

That got everyone’s attention. All eyes were on Bruce.

“Derek?” Something in Leah’s tone made me look her way. “As in Derek, the family felon?”

In the nearly two years I’d known Leah, I’d never heard any of them mention a cousin named Derek, but the look on her face left me in no question as to where he stood in her affections.

“Leah,” Mr. Kirby said, a frown darkening his normally jovial Greek features. His tone was rife with warning.

The tension in the room was palpable. Finally Leah asked stiffly, “When’s he coming?”

“Probably Friday. Maybe Thursday night. He wasn’t sure.”

“Bruce, do you think—” Dina began, but Mr. Kirby cut her off.

“He’s family,” he said tersely, his tone brooking no further comment. Then he looked back at Leah. “Leah, do I need to remind you that he’s—“

“No, Dad,” Leah interrupted, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “I know, I know.”

“Good,” he replied with a satisfied nod. “So, we wait on the movies. Carson, would you like to come for movie night, say Saturday?”

I swallowed uncomfortably, looking down at my plate and stabbing a piece of pot roast with my fork. “I, uh, I’ll have to ask Dad. I’ll try, though.”

Mr. Kirby seemed satisfied with that and I prayed that would be the end of it. Though I was curious about the “family felon”, I was distinctly uncomfortable with the strain that had settled over the room. I just wanted them to change the subject.

Mrs. Kirby turned the conversation toward a show choir song she and Leah had seen performed on Glee, a topic I knew nothing about. I was more than happy to ask questions, however, to keep from returning to the subject of Derek.

Within a few minutes, the atmosphere had calmed considerably and I was able to finish eating then move on to an enjoyable dessert. Dina Kirby fixed one of the best pineapple upside down cakes in the world so it wasn’t at all difficult to scarf down two pieces.

After refusing help with the clean up, Mrs. Kirby made her way to the kitchen. A few minutes of sharply clanging pans and dishes later, Mr. Kirby rose to follow her. It wasn’t long before we heard hushed yet markedly hostile whispers coming from the next room.

Though I wondered about the mysterious Derek, I didn’t get the impression Leah really felt like talking so I said my goodbyes and hurried home. I had enough of an uncomfortable situation awaiting me there; I didn’t need anyone else’s family drama thrown into the mix.

********

The next morning, I was absolutely exhausted. I had spent another night dreaming of bloody snow and a handsome stranger who I thought might like to hurt me. At the same point in each dream, I’d wake up gasping for air, terrified. By the third time, I was unwilling to go back to sleep so I got up and worked on my science fair project for a couple hours before getting ready for school. All in all, by the time I met Leah, I looked and felt like the walking dead.

Silently, she fell in beside me. We walked several steps before she spoke. “You know if there’s anything you want to talk about, I keep great secrets.”

So that was her strategy after yesterday morning’s shutdown. I felt guilt over my rudeness rise to the surface once more.

“Thanks, Leah. I’ve just got a lot going on right now. Nothing I’d want to bother you with, though.”

She made no response. She just kept walking with her head down, staring at her shoes.

“I really appreciate the offer, though. Really. And I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Finally, she looked over at me and smiled, a tiny, watery little smile. My guilt rose. What kind of monster could hurt such a person as Leah?

“Maybe I should be offering to keep your secrets,” I said with a grin, reaching out to poke her with my elbow. She made no move to acknowledge my offer so I stopped. Then she stopped. “Seriously. If you want to talk…”

Leah shook her head, but didn’t bother looking up. Something was eating at her as well, but she wasn’t spilling.

She started walking again and I fell in beside her. We walked the rest of the way like that, each lost in our own thoughts. We parted at the school’s front doors as we always did.

I stumbled my way through the day, doing my best to keep a low profile and ignore…well everybody. I never would’ve guessed that to include Stephen Fitchco, but it did. He seemed determined to find me by myself, but all day I managed to avoid him. When the sixth period bell rang, I was out of my seat and out the door faster than you could say spit.

Leah and I met up at our usual spot just outside the school grounds. I noticed instantly that she looked better. Her secrets obviously hadn’t burdened her too badly.

It only took a few short minutes for her to strike up conversation. Something about an extracurricular project she’d been working on with our physics instructor, capturing wind and something about velocity, blah, blah, blah. She lost me after that. Once again, I retreated into the sanctuary of my mind, which I so often did when Leah and I were together.

Leah was an incredibly intelligent overachiever, which unfortunately made her a social pariah. It’s one of the things that made our friendship work. She valued someone her own age who would listen to her incessant scholastic chatter and I needed someone who could keep themselves occupied while I stayed inside my own head. Ours was a completely symbiotic relationship, but over time, I’d really come to like Leah. Occasionally she’d shock me with some witty comment or funny observation that gave me a rare insight into the treasure that she really is.

A name I recognized brought me back to the moment. “Do what?”

Leah was never surprised when I asked her to repeat something. I think she had a rough idea of how often I zoned out. “What part didn’t you get?” I knew she was asking just to be difficult.

“Did you mean Stephen Fitchco?” I knew I’d heard her say Stephen.

“Yes.” She wasn’t going to make this easy.

“And?”

“That’s why Ryan wanted to know.”

“Wanted to know what?”

“Carson! Weren’t you listening at all?”

“Apparently not. I’ve got a lot on my mind. Just tell me again.”

And in true Leah style, with only a sigh to convey her frustration, she repeated her entire story. “Ryan Phillips came to my locker between fourth and fifth period and asked me what was going on between you and Stephen Fitchco. I told him I didn’t know then he told me what had happened in the cafeteria. When I asked him why he wanted to know, he said Bobby Warren was interested in you and wanted him to find out if you and Stephen had a thing.”

As I suspected, everyone in school knew about what I’d done. My feet, which already felt heavy because I was so tired, suddenly felt leaden, dread weighing them down. “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him I didn’t think so.” Leah stopped and looked at me questioningly. “You don’t, do you?”

“No!”

“So then what was all that about in the cafeteria?”

I told Leah about my near miss with Stephen’s car and how he’d approached me under the guise of seeing if I was alright then dropped me some cheesy pick up lines. Her eyes were as big as saucers by the time I concluded my story. To Leah, it was as juicy as any Gossip Girl episode, poor thing. Sadly, it had been a pretty significant occurrence in my own life as well. It was a depressing testament to how lacking our social lives really were.

“Alright, now remind me again why this is all such a big deal?” As if it weren’t obvious.

“Because Ryan ended up asking me out, silly.”

Oh. I guess it wasn’t that obvious.

All her bubbling excitement had little to do with me and my life; Leah was making headway of her own.

Leah had been nurturing a serious crush on Ryan Phillips since I’d known her, but Ryan had never given her the time of day. Though Ryan wasn’t a jock, he was widely accepted among them, mainly because Bobby Warren was his cousin. And Bobby was a jock, a copper-haired hottie who played wide receiver, dominated the wrestling mat and dated the co-captain of the cheerleading squad. Yeah, it’s one of those kinds of schools.

“What?” I couldn’t hide my surprise or my delight. “Shut up!”

Leah was smiling widely, nearly aglow with the new development. “I’m serious.”

“What did you say?”

“Duh. I said ‘yes’.”

“So give me details. When? Where?”

“He invited me to a lake party this weekend.”

A lake party? My dream kind of lake party? The ones she’d never shown the slightest interest in because they didn’t involve advanced mathematics?

The initial sting of envy quickly subsided, replaced by genuine pleasure for my friend. I had to smile; I’d never seen Leah this happy over a Mathletes championship before. She’d obviously realized that a shiny, gold trophy doesn’t have warm, sexy lips. But Ryan does.

Welcome to my world, I thought.

“That’s awesome, Leah,” I said sincerely. I was glad one of us would get to live something similar to a full life.

For the first time in our relationship, Leah and I were having a lively conversation that had captured both our attention. On the way home, I learned several things: the party is Friday night and she has nothing to wear; she trusts my fashion savvy enough to help her shop; she secretly looks forward to her first real kiss every bit as much as I do; she sweats down her back when she gets nervous; and she has an entire personality, one she keeps well hidden, that I’ve never seen before.

We were laughing like giddy school girls by the time we reached her mailbox. On the way home, it occurred to me that we should’ve been having these types of conversations all this time. I guess we were more abnormal than I’d originally thought.

My good mood hung in there through homework and supper preparation. It began to sag a little during the quietly uncomfortable meal I shared with Dad, but it perked back up within minutes of my feet hitting the pavement for my run.

When I got back, my mood was further preserved by a call from Leah, asking if I’d go with her and her mom to the mall tomorrow night to look for a new outfit. With only a moment’s hesitation, I said yes. Dad was sitting at the kitchen bar during the entire conversation, but he didn’t say a word.

“That was Leah,” I offered. He nodded, but said nothing. “She wants me to go shopping with her tomorrow night.” Still, he remained silent. “I told her I’d go.” He nodded again.

With a shrug, I turned to walk back to my room when Dad finally spoke. “Thanks for letting me know, butterfly.” The soft, pitiful way he said butterfly pinched at my heart. But I steeled myself, ignoring it. I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.

“No problem,” I said casually and continued on to my room.

********

That night and the following morning were exact replicas of the previous one—sleep riddled with the same dream until, after the third go round, I refused to go back to sleep, choosing instead to work some more on my science fair project. I thought for a second about scrapping the whole thing. I was only doing it for Dad anyway. But then, when I considered how much time and energy I’d put into it plus how much it meant to Dad, I discarded the notion and carefully put it back on the shelf over my desk, to be completed later.

Leah’s mood was as contagious as it had been the previous day and her excitement was even greater, which meant I was feeling better in no time. Our walk seemed to fly by and I was actually smiling by the time the school double doors came into view.

We parted company still smiling. I made my way to my locker, thinking about Leah and her incredible turn of luck. What I should have been thinking about was avoiding Stephen.

I was waist deep in my locker when I heard my name.

“Carson?” He said my name tentatively, not at all what I expected after what had happened. I didn’t know what I was expecting—maybe violence or an extreme verbal beat down—but this wasn’t it.

“Yeah?”

“Look,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I know I came on a little strong Monday and I’m sorry. I knew my friends were watching and…” he trailed off, as if that was explanation enough. And it was, though it was no excuse.

“I know. You had to make a good showing for them. Make sure everyone knew who was in control, how I’d be putty in your hands.”

“It’s not- I know—”

“Oh, no. I know exactly. Don’t even try to make excuses, Stephen. I thought you were a nice guy and I was wrong. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“I don’t want you to think that, though.”

“What? That you were a nice guy?’

“No, that I’m not a nice guy. Look, you just- I don’t know.” He paused as if to collect his thoughts. I felt a little pang of guilt. “It just surprised me when I saw you. And then everyone was talking about you. I guess I got a little caught up in it, too. Don’t hate me.”

He looked sincere. He sounded sincere. But what did I know about guys, really? My experience was so limited it was virtually nil. What I did know, however, was that I had neither the energy nor the desire to hate anyone, including Stephen Fitchco. In fact, it was much easier to have a crush on him from afar. And, lucky for him, at the rate he was going, he could be back in my daydreams by the end of the week.

“Can I just start over, like it’s Monday all over again?”

With a sigh of resignation, I agreed. “Sure.”

“Cool,” he said, his trademark smile sliding into place. “So, Carson, how’re you feeling? Looks like you made a full recovery.”

He really was going back to Monday. “I’m fine, Stephen. Thanks for asking.”

We smiled at each other and I thought that would be the end of it, but he had more. “Hey, listen. There’s a party at the lake Friday night. Wanna come with me?”

Finally, an invitation to a lake party! I was speechless. At last, my dream was coming true. And yet, I wasn’t as thrilled as I thought I would be. Why wasn’t it a sweeter victory?

“Thanks for the offer, Stephen, but…” I was already shaking my head.

“Come on, Carson. Please let me make it up to you,” he said, putting on his most persuasive expression, which in my book was pretty persuasive.

What would be the harm? Plus, Leah was going and that would make it all the more fun. We could have a two-sided conversation for weeks.

I looked up at Stephen, his blue eyes sparkling happily, and I caved. “I’d love to,” I said, giving him my most winning smile.

He looked truly pleased. “Great. So I can pick you up at your house about seven. Is that cool?’

“That’s cool,” I agreed. I’d worry later about what Dad was going to say.

“Hey, how ‘bout I give you a ride home today? I owe you one after…well, you know.”

“Um, I walk home with Leah.”

“I can give her a ride, too.”

“Well,” I said, pausing to think, visions of red convertibles and carefree laughter dancing in my head. “Alright.”

“Awesome! We can walk out together after sixth.” And with that, he flashed me his gorgeous smile and walked away.

That set the tone for the rest of the day: everything was going to be alright. Life was looking up after all; there for a while I was a little concerned that it was taking a serious nose dive. I managed to pull Leah aside as we passed between classes to tell her that we’d be getting a ride home.

“From who?”

“Stephen Fitchco,” I said, trying to control my grin.

“Stephen Fitchco?”

“Stephen Fitchco,” I repeated.

I gave her a brief rundown of what had transpired, her smile spreading wider and wider. With a delighted squeal, Leah clapped her hands excitedly. “We’ll be at the same party!”

“I guess so,” I said, wondering how Leah had managed to hide this person all these months.

When finally she settled down, she went back to the ride home. “Well, much as I appreciate you not leaving me stranded at school, I have my own ride home.” The gleam in her eyes said it all.

“Ryan,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Ryan,” she confirmed.

The bell rang and Leah looked up at the clock. “Oh crap! I’ve got to go,” she said. Evidently her tardiness wasn’t concerning her too much, though. She was still grinning from ear to ear when she turned to leave.

Times they are a’changing, I thought as I watched her walk away. Even in her rush, Leah still had an uncharacteristic spring in her step. I couldn’t help but smile.

By the time sixth period rolled around, I was extremely nervous. After all, I’d waited a long time for a day such as this. I was determined to enjoy it, even though it didn’t feel like the heaven I’d once thought it would be. But from a dream fulfillment standpoint, it didn’t disappoint.

Just as I’d so often pictured it, Stephen escorted me to his car (not a red convertible, but that was all that was missing from the image) and gallantly opened the door for me. Once I was seated, he closed it, got in on his side and we took off in the direction of my house. He chatted about all manner of inane things during the short ride.

This time when we arrived at my mailbox, he pulled into the driveway. He even got out and came around to help me out. Wow! And then he walked me to the door. My mind was totally immersed in every detail of the experience. I was living the dream.

Stephen left me at the door with promises to see me tomorrow and a smile that said I’d have my first kiss before the weekend was over. I refused to dwell on why that kiss, coming from Stephen at least, no longer held the appeal it had a week ago.

I was still fully engaged in my fantasy when I heard the screen door creak its way open. Stephen had managed to transport me out of all my troubles for almost an entire day, but, if my father’s thunderous expression was any indication, he’d just delivered me right into the eye of a storm.

Several emotions swept through me when I saw his face—dread, exasperation, resentment and, finally, anger. Heat spread across my cheeks and down my neck and arms. Electricity twitched in my fingertips, flickering like tiny sparks. The skin on my right shoulder blade burned like someone was holding a hot branding iron to it.

“That better not have been the boy that nearly killed you last week,” he boomed as I stalked past him into the living room. “Carson,” he squeezed between gritted teeth, his hand snaking out to grab my arm as I passed.

Fury shot through me like lightening, turning the heat of anger into a white-hot rage. I whirled around and met my father’s glittering eyes. I felt his fingers squeeze my arm as he shook it lightly. “Answer me!”

With a violent jerk, I pulled my arm from his grasp and was about to give him tit for tat when my impending explosion was interrupted by a whoosh from the kitchen. Dropping my arm, Dad ran past me. He hollered back urgently, “Carson, get the fire extinguisher!”