We put in a movie and Hannah stops pushing me to solve all my shit. When it’s over, I lay on the couch with my elbow hooked over my eyes and bake some more while she showers and changes.
It’s late in the afternoon when she drops me at my depressing apartment. It’s almost comforting to find the same group of gang bangers hanging around their cluster of low-riders.
“My car’s still here, so that’s something,” I say, stepping out of Hanna’s car.
“You’re going to be okay?” she asks, her eyes full of concern as they shoot to the bangers and back.
“Professor!” one of them calls. He grins as he raises a hand and metal teeth flash in the sun.
“Yeah,” I say, leaning down and looking at her through the open passenger window. “My homies missed me.”
“Call me later, okay?”
I nod. “Thanks for everything.”
I turn and climb the stairs into my apartment, then crawl into bed and stay there for the next two days.
Chapter 21
Blaire
The global sick feeling, like toxic swamp mud oozing through my veins, has finally started to fade.
It started with a movie, just like Nate promised. He bought us a bucket of popcorn and a large soda to share, and about halfway through the flick, I reached for his greasy hand and held it in mine, just to prove to myself I could. Something about facing down my fears and wanting desperately for something in my life to feel normal again.
A week later, we went to the lake. When he asked why I didn’t wear a swimsuit, I told him I was on my period. I sat in the sun and sweated in my jeans and sweatshirt, afraid if I showed Nate too much of myself, he might get the idea I was good to go. But by the end of the day, when he ran up onto the beach soaking wet and shook himself all over me like a dog, I swallowed the current of electric terror and I let him kiss me.
Two weeks ago, he took me for a burger and we made out in his car after. I gripped the upholstery and let him touch me through my clothes. When he brought me home, he told Marcus we were dating.
Marcus still isn’t speaking to either of us.
I have to say, the fact that Nate’s risked his brotherhood with Marcus for me says more than anything else he could have done. I mean more to him than even Marcus. But it hurts that it’s driven Marcus and I even farther apart. I feel like I’m floating alone in the world with no one but Nate.
Since then, we’ve gone to parties together and started hanging out with Zoey and some kids from my graduating class who decided I was cool after my graduation speech. We’ve made out and there’s been some groping, but he hasn’t pushed for sex.
Nate tells everyone he’s my boyfriend. I’m starting to get used to it. I’m pretty sure now that if he’d heard me say no on graduation night, he would have stopped.
Nate brought me to Tino’s tonight. I’m feeling way more emotional than usual, like I’m living just on the edge of tears, because this is my last slam. By the fourth Friday in August, I’ll be in Berkeley.
I’m second to last tonight, so we sit at a table near the front with some of the other poets and I hug each of them after they read. When Craig starts to announce me, I already feel the hot press of tears behind my eyes. I’ll be lucky to make it through without choking up onstage. I scrape my chair back, but as I turn toward the stage stairs, Nate stands and grabs my hand. He pulls me back to him with his full-throttle smile and tucks me against his hard body. “Kick some ass, baby girl,” he says, then kisses me long and hard.
I give him a weak smile when he lets me go and move to the stage. Craig grabs my hand at the top of the stairs. “We’re going to miss you,” he says as he squeezes, then his smile fades. “I’m going to miss you.”
I smile back and step up to the mic. I lower my head and breathe before looking up into the dark room and fixating on a spot over the bar.
I start; it’s a poem about sacrifice and compromise tonight. I’m on a roll when a dark figure passes through my focal point on the back wall. My eyes catch on him and when he looks up as he reaches the door, it’s Caiden’s face staring back at me.
I stumble over my words and he stalls in the door, as if he’s looking for some way to catch me before I fall. I take a deep breath and recover my spot, and as I finish my poem, he slips away.
My heart screams at me to chase him. To catch him. To hold him and never let him go. But my feet remain rooted to the stage. Because my head knows that he could be arrested for even being here.
We were notified when he got out of prison three days ago. I know what will happen if he comes near me. His misdemeanor would revert to a felony and he’d go back to jail for at least three years. When he finally got back out, he’d have to register as a sex offender for the rest of his life.
It’s not until Craig hands me a tissue that I realize tears are streaming down my face. When I can finally move, he helps me down the stage stairs with an arm around my waist.