"She's not your gram, and you should have told me. Something like that happens, and you don't even call?"
I hadn't even considered it. When I needed someone or some comfort or support, I never thought of her.
"You want to stay up on that fancy hill, you go right ahead, you little brat! I never wanted you here anyway! Collect your shit and get out!" she said and left with a slam.
Oh that's right, I thought. It was Friday. I was interrupting her weekly binge-drunk, and I assumed she was heading to a bar to remedy that.
Dante pressed his chest against my back, leaning down to kiss my temple. "Are you okay?"
I mulled it over. "She told me to leave. I get to leave."
He threaded our fingers together and nuzzled his face into my hair. "Jesus. It's about fucking time. Just think, we get to wake up together every morning. Let's pack your stuff and get the hell out of here."
I was kind of amazed at how much stuff I actually had. We filled up his entire car and we still weren't even done, but I was tired, so we quit. I could get the rest later.
I couldn't quite believe I got to leave the hated trailer dump to stay permanently with Gram. I was reeling, almost giddy about it. It felt like Dante and I had been waiting our whole lives to live together, and finally it was happening. We could be together, day and night. Just the idea of it overshadowed everything else that had happened, for a time, and I was almost lighthearted.
But it wasn't meant to last.
*****
I borrowed Dante's car the next day while he was at football practice, telling him I was tired and going to Gram's to lie down.
"I can skip out. I'll take you home." He looked like he wanted to. Football had fallen very low on his priorities since the attack.
Everything had a silver lining of some kind.
I waved him off. "No, don't bother. Unless you mind me borrowing your car?"
"Of course not. Be careful. And I can just walk home."
I was worried about him doing that, not because I thought he'd get attacked like I had, obviously. I was worried because I thought he wanted to. He'd been relentless and had finally gotten it out of me who the attacker was.
It was a homeless guy that we saw most days on our walk home. No mistaking him. Dante didn't just know who he was, he knew where to find him.
I knew he'd go after the guy given half a chance.
"I'll come back to pick you up," I assured him.
I didn't head straight to Gram's. I had a few things yet to get from Glenda's trailer, and I figured the sooner I did it the better. She was liable to burn the stuff if I left it there for long.
I was nearly finished packing one last little box of pictures and keepsakes when I heard the loud sound of a car pulling onto Grandma's loose gravel driveway.
I glanced out a window. It was an old, brown sedan, and as I watched, Detective Harris stepped out of it.
I was not happy to see him.
I wanted the creep who'd attacked me caught, but I'd had more than my fill of dealing directly with the police.
Still, I went to the door and greeted him.
He smiled and asked how I was doing, citing that he hadn't wanted to intimidate me by pulling me into the station again for more questions, which I thought was supposed to be nice.
Nice, but nerve-racking. I didn't want to be alone with a strange man after what had only just happened to me.
Still, I did hate the police station. It always made me feel paranoid. I was so used to being in trouble that it just felt instinctual to stay away from a place like that.
"Where's Detective Flynn?" I asked him warily. I really didn't like her.
"She's back at the station, doing some paperwork. I got the impression that you'd be more comfortable without her." As he spoke he was looking down at his notepad, jotting down something that I couldn't make out. "Can I come in?"
I didn't want to let him in. Felt a powerful urge to refuse him, in fact. "Can I call my friend?"
He cocked his head to the side. "Why?"
"To, you know, have a friend here with me for this."
"I don't understand."
"It would make me feel better."
He smiled kindly at me. "I'm your friend, Scarlett. And I don't think it's . . . appropriate to have some teenager involve themselves in an official police case. Listen, this will be quick, and I promise you it is necessary. Can I come in, or would you rather go to the station?" he asked again.
"I suppose not," I said stiffly, truly rattled. "You can come in." I knew it was just the fear from all that'd happened, but I did not want to be alone with this man, cop or not, or any man at all just then, for that matter.
"Can I call Mrs. Durant—Vivian—and have her join us?" I tried again. She wasn't a teenager, and I knew with certainty that she'd come if I needed her.
He'd been jotting something on his pad again, but he looked up at that. "Also not the best idea. All of this is sensitive information about an active case. I really can't allow you to divulge any of these details to anyone not actively involved."