All of a sudden, the outside door opened and a woman stood there, hair blanketed in snow, in a wet evening gown, no jacket, and a dingy-looking banner of some sort over her shoulder and around her dress. I blinked and focused in on her. Oh shit. It was Tenleigh's mama. And she looked like a crazy, drowned rat. The dress clung tightly to her body, clearly showing her puckered, pink nipples, and a dark triangle of pubic hair. My heart dropped.
She was shivering violently, but at the sight of the crowd, she seemed to instantly warm as a bright smile took over her face and she pulled her shoulders back, gliding forward into the lobby where everyone was now growing silent as they all stared, confused expressions on their faces, some younger kids snickering.
I looked around desperately for Tenleigh, a need to protect her from what I sensed was coming, gripping me, making me feel desperate, hot, itchy.
"Eddie," Tenleigh's mama singsonged, moving more quickly toward someone standing at the back of the lobby. "Eddie, darling. I'm sorry I'm late." My head swiveled and my eyes first fastened on Tenleigh, standing frozen, a look of horrified shock on her face, and then followed her gaze to Edward Kearney, the Vice President of Drilling Operations at the Tyton coal mine and the administrator of the yearly Tyton Coal Scholarship. I clenched my jaw.
Shit. Fuck.
He was staring at Tenleigh's mama as she came toward him, his eyes wide, his expression one of pure and open horror. His wife, standing next to him said quietly, "Oh my God," as she gathered a girl who looked to be about ten years old to her. Her tone was full of disgust.
Suddenly the door swung open again and everyone's head swiveled as the woman I recognized as Tenleigh's sister burst through, wet and shivering like her mother, without the proper snow attire on. I started making my way over to Tenleigh as quickly as I could, as Tenleigh's sister called out, "Mama! Come here." I looked back at her as she let out an embarrassed laugh, looking around, obviously trying to act as casual as she could in this awful, embarrassing, very-public situation.
I felt someone grab my hand and tug and when I looked backward, it was Shelly. I shook her free and turned back to Tenleigh.
Tenleigh's mama looked behind her, a confused smile on her face, and when she saw her daughter, she stopped and said, "My goodness, Marlo, what are you doing?"
"Mama, we're not supposed to be here," she said, reaching her, and grabbing her hand. I moved closer to Tenleigh. I heard Shelly calling after me once, but I ignored her.
"Of course we're supposed to be here," she said. "This is where Eddie is. Eddie!" she called again, trying to move toward him. "Eddie, baby, I knew you'd be here, I walked all this way . . ."
"Mama," Marlo hissed, pulling on her harder. Tenleigh was moving toward them now, too, away from me. I wanted to call out to her, but I didn't want to call attention to her.
"Jesus Christ, she's a nut," I heard Edward Kearney say to my right. "Let's get out of here, Diane. There's a side door."
Tenleigh reached her mother, took her other arm, and tried to help Marlo guide her to the front door, but when her mother saw Eddie and his family leaving, she tried to race forward. Marlo lurched to grab her, and Tenleigh tripped over Marlo's feet and went sprawling onto the floor, letting out a pained cry. Shit! Shit! Shit!
Marlo grabbed her mama as her mama started screeching, "Eddie! Eddie!" turning around to flail out at Marlo, connecting with her face as Marlo cried out, too.
I reached Tenleigh and grabbed her under the arms, lifting her up and pulling her into me and to the side, as her mother continued to screech and wail and punch out at Marlo. I started to step forward to help Marlo when a couple men I recognized as local police officers who must have had kids in the play, rushed forward. I stepped back as they grabbed hold of Tenleigh's mama. She clawed at them and screamed Eddie's name.
As she fought, her dress fell off her shoulder and exposed one of her breasts. I looked away.
"Get her in your car, Bill," one of the men said. "She practically has hypothermia." The man named Bill took off his sports coat and wrapped it around Tenleigh's mama's shoulders, although she continued to struggle weakly.
"Will you drive us to the hospital?" I heard Marlo say to the officers as I looked back to Tenleigh.
"I'll walk you home," I said to her. Tenleigh didn't look at me. Her eyes were still focused on her mama and Marlo. I turned my head in their direction as well.
Marlo looked behind her as the men held her mother up and began walking her out of the building. The look on Marlo's face was panicked as she looked between their mama and Tenleigh, clearly unsure about leaving her sister. I clasped Tenleigh's hand in mine. "I'll walk her home. I'll make sure she's safe," I said. Marlo's eyes darted to Tenleigh's and Tenleigh nodded her consent. Marlo's face relaxed very slightly and she mouthed, "Okay. My turn. Meet you at home." Tenleigh nodded her head again, a look of sorrow on her face that shook me to my core.
As her mother was dragged from the building, I looked at Tenleigh again. She seemed to be in shock, her cheeks bright pink, her neck covered in red splotches as she stared straight ahead. "Tenleigh," I said gently, as she took her hand away.
Her eyes moved to mine and the heartbreak I saw there made my chest squeeze so tightly, I almost brought my hand up to massage the pain away. She looked shell-shocked as her eyes moved slowly around the room, people still gawking at her, and talking in whispers that weren't soft enough not to float above the crowd.
. . . crazy . . . affair years back . . . never right . . . gotten worse . . . shameful . . . disgusting.
I wished they'd all shut the fuck up. Tenleigh doesn't deserve this.
"Tenleigh, I need to go tell someone I'm leaving and then I'm going to take you home, all right?" As she looked at me, some sort of understanding seemed to come into her eyes. But she remained quiet, the same look of devastation on her face. "Okay," I confirmed. "I'll be right back. Stay right here. I'll be right back," I repeated.
I started making my way back to Shelly—it wasn't like I was her ride, but I figured it was the decent thing to do, and I heard the door slam behind me. I looked back and Tenleigh was gone. Shit. I looked over to where Shelly was standing looking at me expectantly. I paused only very briefly, and then I turned and ran after Tenleigh.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tenleigh
The tears started before I'd even taken three steps outside the door of the school. The sudden blast of cold was like a slap to my face. It felt like the physical version of what I'd just experienced emotionally, in front of most of the student body and a good number of parents, too—humiliation and deep, deep shame. I ran faster, the wind hitting my skin like razor blades, my feet slipping on the icy road.
"Tenleigh!" I heard called behind me. Kyland. Stupid Kyland who had sat two seats away from me in the dark theater as a girl fondled him under her jacket. And I had no right to be filled with hot, painful jealousy. And yet I had been. He hadn't even wanted to kiss me. He'd made that blatantly clear by pushing me away, and yet seeing him with another girl sent hurt ratcheting down my spine. I'd wanted to cry and throttle her . . . or him, or both, I wasn't even sure. And I had no right—I was no one to him. All my life I was just a nothing, a nobody. My life was small and worthless. And it hurt so badly.
"Go away, Kyland!" I screamed back at him, hiccupping and picking up speed.
"Tenleigh, stop! You're going to hurt yourself. Stop!"
"What do you care?" I yelled, still running, slipping and jutting my arms to the side, righting myself before I went down.
"Tenleigh!" I heard him gaining on me and so I picked up some snow and turned around and threw it at him, letting out a small sob. I was being an immature child—I knew it. And yet it didn't seem that I had anything to lose. The snowball hit him in the shoulder and I turned and kept running, my steps clunky and ungraceful in the snow.
"Jesus, Tenleigh!" Kyland yelled. I turned around and picked up more snow and started hurling it at him over and over as he ducked and swore, but kept coming toward me. I turned around again and ran. I got about three steps and my feet went out from under me, sending me sprawling into a snow bank to my right. I cried out and then lay there sobbing, staring up at the clear winter sky as fat snowflakes fell on my face. I felt utterly desolate, and utterly alone. I registered Kyland's footsteps quickly approaching me and then I was scooped up, his warm arms around me, lifting me out of the snow as I continued to cry, the fight in me gone. "Shh," I heard in Kyland's smooth, masculine voice. "Shh, I've got you. You're okay. You're okay, Tenleigh. I've got you."
I wrapped my arms around his neck, shivering, trying to press myself closer into his warmth, his soothing words.
He carried me a little way and then sat down and held me to him as I cried more tears from a seemingly never-ending reservoir of pain. He was murmuring something against the top of my head that I didn't compute, words of comfort. And although I didn't process them, they soothed me all the same.
I thought back to the looks on the faces around me as my mama was dragged down to the ground in her dingy, see-through dress. I squeezed my eyes shut. It had to be one of the worst hurts in the entire world—being embarrassed by someone who was meant to protect you, not humiliate you. And yet I still loved her so much.
After a little bit, my tears stopped, but I didn't lift my head. Kyland kept gripping me tightly and when I finally looked around, I saw that we were sitting in the doorway of a closed hairdressing shop—protected from the weather by the small overhang above the door. We sat together, breathing, still shivering slightly, Kyland's arms around me as I gripped his coat in my fists and took comfort in his closeness.
"Kyland," I finally murmured.
"Yes, Tenleigh?"
"I'm sorry I threw snow at you," I whispered.
"It's okay. I deserved it . . . Tenleigh, I'm sorry for tonight. With Shelly . . . it . . ." He sounded unsure of what to say.
I released a defeated sigh. "You don't have anything to apologize for. You made it clear that we're not anything to each other." Kyland was silent and when I glanced up at him, he was running his tongue thoughtfully over his bottom lip, a small frown creasing his brow. I looked back down, my chest squeezing. I didn't blame him for not wanting to kiss me. Who would want to kiss the daughter of the town crazy? Who would want to attach himself to a girl like me? The thing I heard kids whispering at school sometimes was true—I was nothing but trailer trash. He might be poor, too, but his parents didn't humiliate him in public. In fact, his father and his brother died heroically, working hard to provide for their family. My own father had taken one look at me and hit the road.
"Kyland," I said again.
"Yes, Tenleigh?" he repeated.
I lifted my head and met his eyes—dark and in shadow in the dim light of the covered doorway. "I have to tell you something."
He lifted his hand and used his thumb to wipe away a tear still on my cheek. "What do you have to tell me?" he asked softly.
"I'm not really the daughter of a Russian prince."
He blinked at me and then laughed, sudden and deep and warm.
I let out a small laugh, too, and started to remove myself from his arms. But he held me tighter so I sunk back into him, knowing I was all over the place and suddenly not caring. I needed some tenderness. God knew I did. And right that second, I was going to take what Kyland was offering me. It may be temporary, but it would be enough for now.
"No family jewels?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Not even a family pebble. Not even a family grain of sand."
I heard his lips move into a smile.
"That was just a stupid pretend game my sister and I used to play."
"It wasn't stupid," he murmured.
"It was," I said, my voice breaking again. Kyland didn't answer, but his arms tightened around me. I wished I had known that it was dangerous for girls like us to pretend to be princesses. In that moment, dreaming of anything felt dangerous. Dreams failed, and when they did, reality hurt that much more.
"I have to tell you something, too," he said.
"What?" I sniffled.