Luka, page 15
She obviously wants space.
So, I give it to her.
I mutter something about meeting her in class and excuse myself to the restroom. At the water fountain, I stop, take a long drink, and hear two girls talking on their way out of the ladies’ room. My ears perk when they speak Tess’s name. The things they’re saying make my stomach sink with dread. Summer blabbed and the school is talking.
I shouldn’t have given her space.
I take the stairs to Lotsam’s class two at a time. When I push through the stairwell door, I do so to the irritating sound of Summer’s voice.
“In case you didn’t know,” she announces. “The beloved new girl Tess Eckhart goes to the Edward Brooks Facility!”
Summer’s eyes connect with mine and her proclamation hiccups over the final word. Her mouth snaps shut, her face paling as everyone in the locker bay stares. Not at Summer. Not at me. But Tess, standing in front of me.
She turns on her heel and runs into my chest.
I reach out to steady her, my body flushing with heat.
“Did you know your girlfriend is a mental case?” Summer lifts her chin in a display of bold confidence that contradicts the uncertain way she steps back. “She’s going to end up like her grandmother.”
Her grandmother.
The words sucker punch me in the gut. How in the world does Summer know anything about Tess’s grandmother? She wasn’t close enough to eavesdrop yesterday. I made sure of it.
“What are you talking about?” Tess asks.
“Play dumb all you want. It won’t change the fact that she’s locked up in an insane asylum. With any luck, it won’t be long before you follow.”
Everything goes red. Bright, hot red. I wouldn’t hit a girl, but my fists clench with the desire nonetheless. “You need to back off.”
Jared steps forward. “No, you need to back off, Williams. You and your crazy girlfriend.”
I throw a left hook so fast, it surprises even me. Jared has no time to dodge it. He stumbles. Summer screams. He recovers, pulling at his jaw, then charges. We topple into Tess, who falls to the ground. He’s got fifty pounds on me, at least, but adrenaline courses through my veins as I shove him away and suddenly we’re on top of each other, throwing fists until we’re pulled apart and Lotsam yells at everyone to get to class.
I wipe my bottom lip—split and bleeding. Jared cups his eye—bruised and swollen. Lotsam looks at Tess, sitting on the floor. Then at Summer, frozen by the drinking fountain.
“All four of you,” he says. “You’re coming with me.”
30
Critical Condition
My lip throbs as I sit on the other side of Principal Jolly’s desk. He stammers and stutters at me with a look of befuddled perplexity. When his flummoxed lecture is finished, I apologize. Assure him this won’t happen again. Then he escorts me out of his office. My parents have already arrived. They stand inside the door, taking up all the oxygen.
I peek at Tess, who sits in one of the chairs staring down at her Converse All Stars. Summer sits two seats away. Jared—who was invited to tell his side of the story first—is already gone.
“Mr. and Mrs. Williams.” Principal Jolly tugs at the waist of his khaki slacks and greets my parents with a nod. “This isn’t like your son. In fact, I was shocked when Mr. Lotsam brought him into my office.”
Except for the small tick of a muscle in my father’s jaw, his face remains inscrutable. My mother, not so much. She twists a scarf in her hand, looking from me to her girl-crush Summer to my principal with such utter concern, one might think someone died.
“I believe he’s remorseful,” Jolly continues. “But protocol needs to be followed. Which means Luka will go home today and can return tomorrow.”
My father’s stare bores into the side of my head. “I assure you, Principal Jolly, that this will not happen again.”
“I don’t think it will.”
“Come on.” Dad sets his hand on the back of my neck. “It’s time to go.”
His death grip gives me no choice but obedience.
The second we’re outside, I jerk away. This day has been a dumpster fire. Now I’m kicked out of school, leaving Tess alone to face the wolves. “I’ll drive myself home.”
“No, you won’t.” Dad’s voice simmers with carefully contained rage. His eyes, too. “I think it’s best if you lose your car privileges for a while. You’re obviously not listening to your mother, but you will listen to me. You are not to see that girl anymore.”
His word choice has my anger simmering in equal measure. He talks about Tess like she’s a disgusting cockroach. “That girl has a name.”
“I don’t care about her name. All I care about is that this ends today. No more, Luka. You will obey us.”
Mom’s hands wrestle with the scarf. Now that Dad’s become the bad cop, she’s conveniently sliding into the role of good. “She’s dangerous, honey.”
The word is ludicrous.
And uncomfortably reminiscent of the man in Tess’s dream.
Tess isn’t dangerous.
I’m not dangerous.
Summer is dangerous.
Her malicious gossip is dangerous.
“I won’t have my only son throwing his future away on a crazy girl,” Dad says.
I smile tightly—disgustedly. “You forget that she’s not the only one who’s gone to the Edward Brooks Facility.”
My father hisses at the reminder, then quickly checks the area to make sure nobody heard. When the coast is clear, he skewers me with an unrelenting stare. “All the more reason why you can’t be associated with her. Do you think if it gets out about her that it won’t get out about you? Listen to me, it ends here. Crazy people are not tolerated in this society. They are a burden. I will not have you labeled a burden. You are to have nothing to do with her, do you understand?”
A violent wave of mutiny rolls up my body.
“I’ll take drastic measures, Luka. Don’t test me.”
Dad clamps his hand on my shoulder and pushes me across the parking lot, but not before I catch a glimpse of movement that makes my heart sink. Not flickering light or unexplained shadows or a white-eyed man. But a girl with dark hair and navy-blue eyes, hiding behind a row of bushes.
Tess snuck out of the front office.
Tess heard every word.
I’m grounded with no phone or laptop. As often as I can get away with it, I try calling Tess from our landline. Every single call rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. Up in my room, I stare out my window, hoping Tess might come to hers. She doesn’t. The next morning, I wake up early after a night of horrible sleep. As soon as I step inside the kitchen, my parents stop their conversation. The news plays on our television. Apparently, there was a nasty pile-up on Highway Seven.
Mom hands me a plate with a toasted bagel.
I’m not hungry. And I’m anxious to get to school. I have no idea what happened after I was sent home. No idea how vicious the gossip got while I was gone. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head for the door. There’s a bus stop by the Edward Brooks Facility. I can walk there and take it to school.
“Luka,” my father says without an ounce of give in his voice.
I stop in the entryway.
“You can drive to school so long as you drive alone.”
“Are you going to follow me into class, too?”
Dad’s eyes spark at the foolish question.
I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything more. He warned me yesterday. He’ll take drastic measures, whatever those entail. Which means I’d be wise to tread cautiously.
“Careful,” he says, holding out my keys.
I take them without making eye contact, then head to my car while my father stands on the front stoop, watching like a hawk. I don’t even look at Tess’s house. Nor do I let myself imagine her confusion when she comes outside to see my car missing from the driveway.
When I arrive, the locker bay is mostly empty. I wait for Tess by her locker, silently rehearsing my apologies as the minutes pass and the hallways fill.
The first bell rings.
Tess is a no show.
I spot Leela walking quickly toward the stairwell with a stack of books clutched to her chest. I catch up with her. “Hey, have you seen Tess?”
She turns around, her eyes puffy and red.
I lift my eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” she says with a stiffness so unlike Leela McNeil, it takes me aback. She pivots like she’s going to keep walking.
I step in front of her. “Leela, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” But her voice catches. Her attention dips to my split lip. Evidence of yesterday’s fight. I’m sure she’s heard all about it by now.
“You’re obviously upset.”
She wipes the back of her hand across her eyes. “Tess is supposed to be my best friend. But she didn’t say a word to me about the Edward Brooks Facility.”
I grimace.
She’s hurt because Tess didn’t tell her the truth. Tess kept that a secret—per my advice. The last thing Tess needs right now is a rift with Leela. “Leela, that’s on me. She wanted to tell you, but I convinced her not to.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t think she should tell anyone.”
“She told you.”
I search for an excuse. But what is there to say? Tess told me in a dream. Information confirmed not because she confided in me, but by my own illegal trespassing. All of which is more incriminating than Tess going to the Edward Brooks Facility.
Leela looks at me with an expression so forlorn, my chest pinches. She waits for me to give her an explanation that might take the edge off the betrayal. When it’s obvious I have nothing to give, she shrugs sadly and heads to class.
Tess doesn’t come to first period.
I spend the whole of it staring at the door, willing her to appear.
She’s a no show at second, too.
And I can’t ditch to find her. Not without getting into more trouble. The awful feeling of helplessness that tormented me in November pounces now with renewed fervor. I break apart a hunk of clay, dreading the thought of another night stuck in my room with no way to contact her. How am I supposed to wait until tomorrow to see her? What if she’s absent tomorrow, too? My clay kneading grows increasingly aggressive until Principal Jolly’s voice crackles over the intercom.
The chatter in the classroom goes quiet.
School announcements are made at the beginning of the day. Occasionally at the end. I can’t recall a single time there’s been one in the middle of second period. Nor can I recall a time when Jolly’s voice has sounded so … opposite of jolly. Not even yesterday in his office.
“As I’m sure some of you have already heard, there was a large car accident on Highway Seven late last night. One of our students was involved.”
My hands go still.
My ears start to ring.
I picture Tess, flying through her windshield. But Principal Jolly doesn’t say Tess’s name. He says Pete’s. He’s in critical condition in the intensive care unit at the Thornsdale hospital and if anyone needs to speak with the school therapist, they are welcome to do so.
When the announcement ends, Jennalee Fisher begins to cry. The room erupts in murmurs. I look at Leela, who sits alone, as pale as death.
The remainder of the day passes in slow agony.
As soon as the final bell rings, I race home. My father’s at work. My mother’s still at her workout class. Which means I have a very small window to contact Tess. I cut through her lawn and knock on her door, knowing full well that the chance of anybody being home is most likely zero. Even so, I have to try.
Nobody answers.
I’m sure they’re at the hospital.
I go inside my house and turn it upside down, searching for my phone in a frantic race against the clock. I find it in the bottom drawer of my father’s desk. As soon as I power it on, a flurry of texts and missed calls light up the screen. Not a single one is from Tess, which means she didn’t even attempt to get ahold of me. I try calling her, but it goes directly to voicemail.
The front door opens.
My mother calls my name.
I power off the phone and return it to its hiding place.
Out in the foyer, Mom already knows about the pile-up. About Pete in the ICU. As soon as I open my mouth, she holds up a hand to stop the question before I can ask it. “I’m sorry, Luka, but you cannot visit her.”
I don’t join my parents for dinner.
They don’t press the issue.
At quarter after nine, they open my door to check in. I lay in bed, feigning sleep, listening attentively as they retreat to their bedroom and their whispered conversation grows too muffled to decipher. I wait. And wait. And wait until the muffled whispers fade into a quiet stillness.
Outside, a car door shuts.
I’m up and out of bed, across the hall into the guest room and at the window quicker than a heartbeat. Down below, my pulse races as I watch Tess and her mother disappear into their house.
She’s home.
She’s back from the hospital.
If I have any hope of speaking with her, now’s my chance. I creep to the hallway and stare at my parents’ bedroom door. They almost always sleep with it shut. Tonight, it remains slightly ajar. As carefully and quietly as possible, I creep down the stairs, turn off the alarm and surveillance camera, and step out into the night.
By the time I climb the lattice leading to Tess’s bedroom window, she’s there in her room. Sitting on her bed in the dark. Her expression so bereft, so broken, my thudding heart twists.
I tap lightly on her windowpane.
She looks at me with wide eyes, then hurries to let me in. The second I’m inside, I pull her into my arms—so overcome with relief, so inundated with the fierce need to protect her, I have to draw in a ragged breath. “My parents are idiots. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
I inhale the scent of strawberries. Relish the softness of her body. The warmth of her skin. “I was going to talk to you at school today, but you didn’t show. And then Principal Jolly announced what happened over the intercom. How’s your brother?”
When she doesn’t answer, I take her arms and pull her away.
Her eyes swim with tears.
“Is he …?”
She shakes her head—quickly, emphatically. “No.”
I expel a relieved breath.
Tess sinks onto her bed and stares despondently at the chipped polish on her fingernails. “It’s my fault.”
Of all the things she could’ve said, I wasn’t expecting this. “How’s it your fault?”
“I dreamt about it. Last night.”
My brow furrows. Tess dreamt about it? But she hasn’t been having dreams. According to her, she hasn’t had a single one since she started taking medicine.
“I watched everything happen. I could have stopped it. I could have fought. But I didn’t. I didn’t care.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “And then I woke up and now Pete’s in the hospital.”
“He’s not in the hospital because of you.”
“Isn’t he?” Her eyes open, a world of shame swirling in their depths. “The other night, I had another dream. I was reading my grandma’s journal and I forgot to take my medicine. I dreamt about that drive-by shooting. And then the next morning, it was on the news.”
Her words wash through me. Tess forgot her medicine. Tess was reading her grandmother’s journal. Tess has been dreaming again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you seemed to have other things on your mind and then we got to school, and well ...”
I kick myself for being such an idiot. I was so frustrated with my mom, so angry with Summer for running her mouth, I didn’t even think to ask Tess if something else was bothering her on that silent drive to school. She kept it to herself, just like she had to face all the gossip by herself, too. “Dreaming about something doesn’t make it your fault.”
“You don’t understand. I couldn’t stop those men from shooting their guns. I couldn’t move. That guy—the one with the scar—he was there.”
My muscles tick.
I don’t like that guy with the scar.
He tried setting Tess against me once.
“He said the medicine made me weak. But the next morning, I took the medicine anyway and then Pete was in my dream and I couldn’t save him. I didn’t even try.” Something flits across her face—like the sudden recollection of a long-forgotten memory. “But someone else was there. Someone else was fighting.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t make the person out, but whoever it was, they were fighting and I wasn’t.” She buries her face in her hands. “I wish I could turn all of this off.”
I sit beside her, wishing I could turn it off for her. One night of forgetting her medicine and all the bad things came rushing back. Not just her dreams, but the gossip in school, too. “Tell me what to do.”
“I don’t want to be by myself.”
“Then you won’t be.” I scoot back and lean against her headboard. “I’ll stay here. With you.”
Tess looks uncertain.
“I won’t leave you alone, Tess. Not tonight.”
I know when my parents wake up. I set the alarm on my phone, making sure to give myself enough time to slip back into my room before they notice I’ve been gone.
Tess doesn’t argue. I think she’s too exhausted. Instead, she shuffles to her door, turns the lock, and slips into bed.
My hands clench by my sides. We’re completely alone. In her bed. At night. A reality that has my mouth going moist. My body, warm. My fingers, longing to touch. But I squash the desire down, refusing to move any closer. This isn’t about me and my needs. This is about Tess and hers. Right now, she needs to rest. So I keep myself in careful check and listen intently as her breathing slows.
Only when I’m positive she’s asleep do I let myself drift off, too.
