Because of You (15 page)

I think about Gina and the way she huffed out of the room. Sitting up, I punch her number into my phone and type a message.

Sorry Gina. I want to tell you about my tattoos. I don’t know what happened earlier, except Iwas in shock. Hope you’re okay. By the way, this is Maddie and I now have a cell phone.

Who gave you a phone? She texted back.

I pause, debating whether I should tell her. Then type:
Kyle.

Are you still a virgin?

I snort. Heat blooms through my whole body. Why would she ask me that? What does my still being a virgin have to do with Kyle giving me a phone? Unless…

“Ugh,” I shout at the ceiling. “I’m not easy.”

Yes!!!

Nothing kinky?

No!!!

Would you tell me if you and Kyle did get kinky?

There were no handcuffs or whips involved.

I didn’t realize you were that kind of girl. We can work something out if you’d like.

“What?” I sit up, reread her message and start to text back when I realize my last text didn’t go to Gina. It went to Kyle.

“Shit!” I toss my phone away as though it’s a red-hot coal.

I bury my face in my pillow and scream with humiliation.
I’ve
done plenty of embarrassing things. Like the time my shoe caught on the hem of my skirt when I stood after playing my song at a piano recital. That’s why I wear ballet flats now. No heels to worry about. Or the time I went down a slide at the waterpark and my top came off, which is why I no longer wear bikinis. Then there was the time I wore white pants to the grocery store. A little boy pointed, and asked if I was going to die because of all the blood. And there are more, many, many more. But in all those times, in all those places, never have I been more mortified than I am right now.

My phone is at the foot of my bed, and I hear it ping. I sit, desperate to know what it says, but at the same time terrified.

I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t care what he thinks.
I say the words over and over in my head, but I do care. A lot. Even though I know I shouldn’t. Even though my brain is telling he isn’t worth it.

What would my parents think? Am I honoring them with my feelings for a murderer’s son?

Another ping. I can’t resist. Ever so slowly I pick up the phone, turn it over and read the text.

It’s from Gina.

No response. :(

I hurry and text her back.

Texting shame. I sent the message meant for you to someone else. The words handcuffs and whips were included.

OMG. Who?

Kyle.

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

I can’t respond to that. She’s laughing at me—in writing. I’m sure that’s what Kyle is doing too. My face blisters hot.

Maddie, why won’t you call?

This time I check the number. It’s from Kyle.

I send back.
You call me!
I would call him, but the idea of dialing the numbers, forcing myself to realize I want to talk to him. Each digit bringing me closer to the inevitable. I’m not brave enough to do it. But if he calls, then all I have to do is answer. Or ignore it.

Fine. I will.

The phone rings. The ringtone is a minuet. I stare at it, recognizing the number. It’s Kyle. He really called.

Gina pushes open the door.

I click ignore, and stuff the phone under my leg.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” She’s fidgety, and seems a little out of it.

“So you wanna talk?” I ask, patting my bed.

She shrugs. “It’s okay. I was thinking I might go to the party tonight after all. I need to get out.”

My heart drops into my stomach. “Really?”

Gina laughs. “No, not really. I just wanted to see the look on your face.” She throws herself onto my bed. “I’m dying to know what possessed virgin girl to get tattoos.”

Maddie

ina and I talk and talk and talk, until we can’t talk any more. I tell her everything. About Kyle. About my parents. About my shrink. I tell her about the tattoos, how they relate to the seven stages of grief. And show them to her.

Turns out she’s afraid of needles.

I’m an only child. And I always wanted a sister. Gina has taken the role. It took eighteen years. I can’t help but think of those cackling senior girls that put us together. Maybe they are smarter than I gave them credit for.

Gina is a foster kid. Raised in the system. She was dropped off at a homeless shelter when she was a baby. No note. No explanation. Her home life was a series of rejections, beatings, and starvation. When she turned eighteen, a lawyer contacted her and informed her that a trust had been set up in her name. It was anonymous. The only condition on receiving the money was she had to graduate college. Which is why she’s here.

And I’m grateful.

“How often do you talk to your shrink?” Gina asks.

“Before I started college, it was once a week. I haven’t talked to her since getting here, though. What about you?”

“Sometimes daily. Luckily Luca is available 24/7.” She wriggles her eyebrows playfully.

“Luca? Is that your therapist’s name?” I want to be clear.

She’s giving off the vibe that there might be more than talking going on between her and her shrink.

“Yeah. He’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.”

I blanch.

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s happened. Yet. Luca says I put myself in dangerous situations so I’ll need more therapy. He isn’t wrong.”

It’s midnight, and she’s lying next to me on my bed. Kyle’s called two more times, but I keep pressing ignore. Gina hasn’t given me any crap about it. Just keeps raising her eyebrows and giving me questioning looks. I should text him. Ask him to stop. Probably even give back the phone.

But I’m too tired.

And I love the phone.

Another first. Thanks to Kyle. That hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“Why are you blaming Kyle for something his father did?” Gina blurts, giving me a sideways glance.

It’s a solid question. Even Abigail asked it when I first began seeing her. I know I shouldn’t. He didn’t pull the trigger. Make my parents bleed and die. He didn’t take them from me, leave me orphaned. My mom and dad actually liked Kyle. My mom teased me about him all the time. But he’s his father’s son. Who’s to say Kyle won’t become like him? Who’s to say he isn’t already like him?

My aunt and uncle used to argue constantly about Chief Hadley, about how he wanted to come after me. But Kyle’s dad never did. And two words always came up in their disputes: blackmail, revenge. I could never understand what they meant. Was someone blackmailing them? Did Chief Hadley want revenge? On me?

It seemed likely. I’d seen him with a gun in his hand, leaving my house.

When I was fifteen, my aunt and uncle’s arguments abruptly stopped. Or they realized I could hear them, and kept their quarreling for times when I wasn’t around.

I didn’t want revenge. I wanted justice. To see Chief Hadley rotting away in a prison cell forever.

At some point, I know he stepped down as the chief. A new man took his place. I asked my aunt what happened. All she said was, “He got what he deserved.” I asked what she meant, and she shushed me. Told me not to worry about it.

Now that I’m going to school with his son, I can’t help but worry, and wonder if I should research his dad on the Internet. It’s something I’ve done a handful of times, under the supervision of my aunt.

“Maddie?” Gina touches my arm.

“I don’t blame Kyle. I don’t.” I shake my head, realizing I mean it. “But when I see him, or I’m near him, I remember what his father did to my parents. And if his father is evil, well then…” I don’t finish the sentence. My body has rebelled against my mind. My aunt’s words,
bad men raise bad kids
, fling themselves through my thoughts. My body doesn’t believe it.

“You think Kyle is evil too.” She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms. “I get that. I do. Obviously my mom chose not to deal with her problems, and I’m the same way.” She sniffs. “But you should give Kyle a chance, especially if you feel so strongly about him.” She rolls on her side, faces me. Her eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and they’re staring at me intently.

I gasp, wishing I could let it all go. Close my eyes and forget. But I can’t. I’m not made that way. “I-I don’t know if that’s possible. Alcohol helps.” I snort, feeling ashamed for stating so bluntly my immediate weakness for the burning liquid.

Gina busts out laughing. “Yeah, it does. If only it didn’t have those nasty morning-after side effects.”

“We should come up with something. We’d be world heroes.” I laugh with her.

Gina leans over and kisses my cheek. “Thanks for the chat.” She climbs off my bed and falls onto hers. “I’m sleeping straight through tomorrow. Wake me for class on Monday.”

“Night, Gina.”

Minutes later, her breathing has evened out and I know she’s asleep. It doesn’t come as easily for me. I can’t help thinking about Kyle and my reasons for shutting him out. Without debating the consequences, I pick up my new phone and text Kyle.

Sorry. Roommate and I were talking. Thanks for the phone.

I stare at the screen for several minutes, waiting for him to respond. He doesn’t, and I roll on my side, pull my comforter up to my neck, and close my eyes.

I’ve been asleep either thirty seconds or three hours when the phone pings.

You’re welcome.