Gwen’s mother knows the attendance clerk at Beth’s old school in Louisville.
“I’m sorry, Ryan, but sometimes children are destined to become nothing more than their own parents. Beth is a drug user. She’s been arrested and her reputation with boys at her old school…”
I don’t wait to hear anything else. “Does Gwen know any of this?” Because she didn’t before. Otherwise, she would have told me in HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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order to break Beth and me up.
“Yes. She was there when her parents told us yesterday.”
With my keys tight in my hands, I turn my back to her.
“Ryan!” Mom calls from the kitchen. “Come back!”
She’s too late. I race out to the garage, start the Jeep, and peel out of the driveway. If Gwen knows, then that means she’ll tell the rest of the school.
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Beth
SCOTT PULLS INTO A SPOT next to the front entrance of school and places the car in park.
We’re early. Neither one of us said much
during breakfast. I didn’t eat. Neither did he.
“Are you sure you want to go today?” he
asks for the tenth time. “I’m okay if you stay home. Allison and I heard you pacing downstairs so I know you didn’t sleep the past few nights. She’s worried about you and so am I.”
I’m too damned tired to even roll my eyes at the lie of Allison being concerned over me.
Mom and I were supposed to leave today. I was going to cut school and take a cab into Louisville. Then Mom and I would have left.
My insides feel tormented, battered, and
bruised. Sort of like if Trent was allowed free rein over my organs. The worst sensation is the HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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tightness in my lungs, the feeling of
drowning.
I touch the ribbon on my wrist. “No. I want to go to school.” I need to see Ryan. He said I had roots here. I need to hear him say it again.
I need to laugh with Lacy. I want to smile when Logan and Chris egg each other on. I want to nail the anatomy quiz in science. I want to know that I’m not making the worst mistake of my life by leaving my mother behind.
My backpack sits on the floorboard and I
hold my science book to my chest. I’m good at science. Really good. My teacher likes me.
Instead of yelling at me when I accidentally cursed while giving an answer, she laughed and winked. After class she told me to watch my fucking language. I earned a B on my last progress report and last week my teacher told me that I’m close to an A. Me, Beth Risk—I could get an A.
“I never wanted to tell you about the
money.”
I shake my head and Scott stops talking. I’d rather not think about that. It still hurts too much. I try to wipe out the thoughts of Mom HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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and money and how I’m leaving her behind
with Trent. Instead I try to focus on Lacy. She called me her best friend and she asked me to stay the night next weekend. Since I left Groveton at the age of eight, I’ve never had a sleepover with a friend. She said we’d eat frosting and watch movies. I have a best friend who’s a girl.
“You don’t look good, kid.”
I hit Trent Saturday, which means he’ll hit her. I choke as I attempt to breathe. How can I do this? I can’t leave her behind. “Mom swore to me she’d never do heroin.”
“I’m sorry,” he says in a simple way. Kind of like when a child finds out that Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny doesn’t exist. He’s sorry that the fantasy is over, but happy I’ve entered reality.
Mom doesn’t fight back when Trent hits her.
I should go into Louisville. “Dad shot up heroin. He sold it too.”
Scott turns off the car. “I didn’t know.”
I’m leaving Mom behind, but I owe her. She never left me. “He wasn’t bad when he shot up.
Mostly he slept. The needles scared me. Mom got real nervous if I played too close to them.”
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“What happened?”
Why didn’t Mom tell him? Or Shirley? Why
do I have to do it? “Dad didn’t want me.”
“Your dad was young. He didn’t know what
he wanted. It had nothing to do with you.”
True. Dad was seventeen when I was born.
Mom was fifteen. Dad knew he wanted her. He took her and made me. But Scott is missing the point. “He told me that himself because I, uh…made a mistake.” I am a mistake.
Scott stares at me with those blue eyes that are much gentler than Dad’s and much more full of life than Mom’s. I don’t want anger and bitterness in my eyes.
“When I was in third grade, a guy came to the trailer and at first everything was fine, but then he and Dad began to argue. The guy reached to the back of his jeans and he pulled out a gun.” A shiver runs through my body. My eyes dart in front of me. I see my backpack, the floorboard, the stereo in the car, but my body reacts like I’m back in the trailer.
“He pointed it at Dad and when Dad laughed he pointed the gun at me. It was so close.”
Very close. Close enough I could feel the metal on my forehead. Mom screamed and warm HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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