I have remembered what happened to me every day for nearly two years. I’ve seen it in nightmares. I’ve written it in notebooks every night for hundreds of days. But I have never relived it until now. I know that I’m safe here. But I know what dirt and blood taste like, too.
***
I’m sleeping at Josh’s again, because somewhere along the line, that became the norm. The more time I spend here, the more I hate being at Margot’s by myself. I make sure she always knows where I am, and even if she doesn’t like it, I think she understands, or maybe I just need to believe that she does. I feel more at home at Josh’s than anywhere else in the world, and right now, I need a home.
I have to hide in the bathroom to write my three and a half pages, even though tonight I feel like I already did. I write them anyway and then slip the composition book into my backpack, behind my trig book, like it’s homework.
“Don’t,” I say, when I climb into bed in the dark, because even in pitch black silence, I can see and hear and feel the question all around me.
“You have to tell me sometime,” he says softly as if someone in the house might hear us.
“But I don’t have to tell you tonight,” I whisper back.
He takes my left hand like he knows it holds all my secrets and he thinks maybe he can learn them just by holding it.
“You were awake, but it was like you weren’t even there.” He pulls me against him and kisses the scar on my forehead, keeping his arm wrapped tightly around me, pulling my head onto his chest and pressing my body to his. “It scared the hell out of me and you won’t tell me why it happened.”
I have to tell him something, so I tell him what I know is true.
“Sometimes I just forget how to breathe.”
CHAPTER 39
Josh
“Damn, your girlfriend can bake.” Drew shoves yet another cookie in his mouth. He’s eating them as fast as Sunshine can pull them out of the oven.
“Not my girlfriend,” I say, because, according to her, she’s not, and that’s fine because I hate the term anyway. Saying girlfriend, somehow puts us in an official relationship, and if she is an official part of my life, she will probably officially be gone very soon. So if she doesn’t want to be called my girlfriend, I’m fine with that.
“Fine,” Drew counters, “your wife.” He walks up to her and pulls a cookie off the tray, burning his fingers in the process. “No wonder you always smell like brown sugar and,” he stops, picking up a bottle off of the counter and reading the label, “pure vanilla extract.”
He’s right. She does smell like brown sugar and vanilla, but I thought I was the only one who noticed.
He flips the cap open on the bottle and inhales it. “Seriously, they should sell this as perfume.” Sunshine is just staring at him with a slightly disgusted look on her face.
“You smell me?”
“You don’t have to make it sound so creepy. It’s not like I sneak into your room and watch you sleep.” He walks over and slaps me on the back. “Josh does that.”
Sunshine throws an oven mitt at him and he pretends to be wounded. “Watch it woman. Since you’re not taken, I can throw you down on the floor and make love to you right now.”
She gags loudly and Drew looks mock offended. “The idea of ha**ng s*x with me is that distasteful?”
“No, the idea of ha**ng s*x with you is, as always, the pinnacle of dreams. It’s the make love part that’s repulsive. I hate that expression. I could be sixty years old, and I’d still rather say f**k, than make love. Ichth,” she shudders.
“Good,” he says, confidence restored. “Then since you’re not taken, I can throw you down on the floor and f**k you right now.”
“Do me a favor,” I say. “Either screw each other and get it over with or quit acting like you’re going to.” I turn the TV off because I can’t hear it anyway and toss the remote on the couch. I sound like a jealous bastard. I am a jealous bastard. Just because I know there’s nothing going on between them, doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss me off.
“Are those our only two options?” Drew asks. “Because I know which one I’m going with.”
Sunshine shoves another cookie in Drew’s mouth and tells him to quit while he’s ahead.
“You know I’ve gained like ten pounds since I met you. How do you eat all this shit and not get fat?” he asks, wiping crumbs off of his hands.
“I run,” she says. “A lot.”
Drew looks repulsed. “Well I’m not doing that.”
“Don’t worry,” she smiles. “You have enough testosterone to keep your metabolism going for a while.”
“True story,” he says cockily.
“Speaking of true stories and testosterone, is anyone ever going to tell me what the deal is with Tierney Lowell?” Sunshine asks.
Drew stiffens. “No.”
She arches one eyebrow at him and he groans exaggeratedly like a kid who just had his video games taken away.
“Fine. But only because I’m fragile and you scare me.”
Drew moves over on the couch so she can sit next to him, but she sits down in my lap instead, and I really have no problem with the fact that she’s not my girlfriend.
“It’s an age old story,” he says flatly. “Boy meets girl. Boy asks girl to touch him inappropriately. Girl dazzles boy with her impressive knowledge and proper use of profanity. Boy and girl end up in detention together. Love blossoms. In secret. For four months.”
Sunshine looks at me for confirmation. “True story,” I deadpan. I always knew they had hooked up, but I thought it was a one-time deal. I actually just found out the rest of the story. He didn’t tell me until I laid into him the week after the infamous truth or dare dinner. But I remember there was something up with Drew during that time period and now it just makes sense.
“And?” she asks.
“And nothing. That’s all you’re getting.” He turns the TV back on.
“You suck,” she mutters.
“So do you, no doubt.”
Somehow I didn’t find that nearly as funny as the two of them.
CHAPTER 40
Nastya
Drew and I have spent the past three hours at his dining room table with dueling laptops, pulling up research and precedents for the most boring argument ever on term limits. I guess it’s better than gas taxes which we could have gotten stuck with. The county tournament is in two weeks. I don’t have to compete, but I have to attend, and my grade comes from doing prep work.