Breaking Free (14 page)

I shook my head.  “I can’t help him.”

“Try.”

I gulped. 
“Hey, JC?” I asked tentatively, taking a step closer to him.

He turned
at the sound of my voice, like I startled him.  He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wild.

“
Are you all right?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.  Running his hands through his hair, he took a couple deep breaths. 
“It’s over,” he eventually said, kneeling down and holding his head.

I walked closer.  “It’ll be okay.”

“Really?”  His head snapped up and his eyes were still wild.  “Exactly how will it be okay, Mal?”

“Prince Jalen always found a way to make things work.”

He laughed.  “There are two possible endings to my story:  prison or death.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You don’t know anything about my life.”

I took a step closer.  “Tell me.”

He shook his head.  “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m not from a fancy country club in California, Mal.”

“
No,” I said, stepping next to him.  “You’re from Durham.  Probably a tiny house where you had to share a room with your brother and never felt safe playing in your front yard.  A constant threat of drugs and alcohol.  Random men coming into and out of your mama’s life.  Then when you were what … ten?  Twelve? Gangs beating down your door trying to recruit you.”

I knelt down next to him.  “
Promising safety and money, the two things you never had enough of.  Yet you, somehow, managed to avoid all of that.  No drugs.  I’m betting no drinking.  No gangs.  You studied hard, worked out, took care of your brother.  You’re a good person.”  I placed my hand on his shoulder.  “You have a good future.”

He stared at me
and I slowly noticed a change in his eyes.  They became more focused.  Softer.

“
I like that you think that, even if it’s not true.”

Chapter 22
:  August 25

“
Que triste,” Marta says
.  “He thought his life was over.”

The clock chimes noon so I reach
over and grab my pill container as I nod.  After swallowing the afternoon drugs, I say, “I still don’t know why he was concerned about prison.  He never told me what he did, but I have to imagine it involved beating someone up.”

“
Did you two talk more before he was sent home?”

I carefully consider her question.  Much more happened that night, some I know about and a lot I can only piece together.
  “Yes, Chris left us alone after dinner.  We ended up … talking for a long time.”

She raises her eyebrows.  “Sounds to me like there was more than talking.”

“Not what you think.”  I open up the journal and skip forward to that last night together.  I want to see what he had to say about it.

Day 14: It’s over.  I ruined everything. In the morning, I’ll be sent home.  My lawyer will pick me up and take me straight to the courthouse.  I’m sure I’ll be in a prison cell by dinnertime, unless someone can convince the judge to give me another chance for rehabilitation and secretly ship me to a program out of state.  I can’t imagine that happening.

There’s no doubt in my mind now that Bling is Crew and was sent here to kill me.  I don’t know how they found out about this program, but they did. They knew this was their last chance before I disappeared for good. They’re going to win.

“Do you believe him?” Marta asks.

“I believe that Bling was trying to hurt him.  He just happened to be involved in every accident.  At some point, it stops being coincidental.”  I smash a crumb on the counter with my thumb, turning it into dust.  “I don’t know if he was Crew, though.  He looked the part of a gang member, but looks c
an be deceiving.”

I
focus back on JC’s journal.

I’ve suspected this all along, but today sealed the deal:  Mal is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.  She’s honest and real.  I’ve never met anyone like her before.  She can cut through all the shit and get to the bottom of things.  She gets me.  She knows where I’m coming from, which is bizarre since we couldn’t be from more different worlds.  She doesn’t care, though.  Mia was right—Mal is one of the least judgmental people I’ve ever met.  That’s just further proof her heart is pure and way too good for me.

I almost told her what I did today.  She opened up to me and I wanted to be honest with her.  She’s accepted everything else about me so I thought she might understand this, too. I actually formed the words on my lips, but then couldn’t get them out.  I was too scared.  I’ll probably never see her again after tomorrow morning, but I still couldn’t tell her.  I’d rather have her lasting image of me be the person she thinks I am, not who I really am.  As least I finally got that kiss before I said good-bye.

“You told me you only thought of him as a friend,” Marta says accusingly, pointing to his journal.

“
I do.  Did.  Things were different that last night.  He was scared for both of us.  We did some things we shouldn’t have.  It was all a reaction to the situation,” I say, my mind drifting back to that night.

“
Do you want to talk about it?”

I nod
and start telling her about one of the best moments of my life, knowing I’ll have to keep a few details to myself.

Chapter 2
3:  August 1 (Day 14 Continued)

I had dinner duty
so once we got back to the campsite, I began boiling beans and rice.  JC sat by himself under a tree and Bling stayed in his tent.  Neeky and Mia sat together, but were quiet.  Chris was the only one who spoke and that was to tell us a small storm was approaching and then to make plans for the next day with someone on the other end of her phone.  Now two people would be joining us in the morning—the Jason substitute and someone to transport Bling and JC back to the Lodge.  I kept hoping she’d change her mind, but she made it clear days ago that there was a zero tolerance policy for fighting.  She was always one who stuck to the rules.

After we finished a silent dinner and washed the dishes, JC held out his hand to
me.  “Come with me?” he asked.

“Where?”

“There’s a rocky ledge over here with a nice view.”

I took
his outstretched palm and allowed him to help me stand.  Chris had her eyes on us as we walked away but didn’t tell us not to go.  We didn’t walk very far, only a few hundred feet through scrub trees and shrubs.  If I looked over my shoulder, I could still see the fire.

I lowered myself to the ground and crossed my
feet.  JC sat next to me with his legs stretched out.  The sun was dropping towards the horizon quickly, playing games with the low-hanging clouds and painting pinks and oranges between the distant mountain peaks.

“
It’s pretty,” I said.

“Yeah.  Makes you almost forget everything that’s wrong, huh?”

I shrugged.  Nothing would make me forget that he was going home the next day.  I wasn’t sure what would happen without him there.

“
What will you do after I leave?” he asked, sensing my own thoughts.

I shrugged again.
  I did fine when I was exhausted or distracted, but after any amount of time to myself, my thoughts always drifted to the place I loathed.  I couldn’t control it on my own.

When I didn’t say anything, he answered for me. 
“You’ll cut again.”

“Probably.”

The sun was almost down now, leaving only a faint red glow outlining the rounded peaks.  JC picked up a pebble and tossed it over the ledge in front of us.  “Show me.”

I raised an eyebrow.  “Why?”

“I want to understand.”

“I think the point of this trip is to make us stop our destructive behaviors,
not pick up new ones.”

“Maybe
I wouldn’t have aggressive tendencies if I cut myself.”

A large bird, m
aybe a hawk or an eagle, circled above us silently.  After three rotations, it dove into the forest below.

“Give me your watch.”

He unbuckled it and dropped it in my hand.  I turned it over and pulled out the metal prong that keeps the band closed.

“Now give me your arm.”

I was shocked that he didn’t draw his hand away.  Other than the few incidents with Bling, he seemed like the most well-balanced person out here, but that clearly wasn’t true.  He was struggling just as much as me.

I pushed the metal against his skin until it indented and then glanced to his face.  He was watching my mot
ion with interest, not disgust.

I pushed even harder until a drop of blood appeared and then slid the metal about
half an inch, giving him a small cut.

I turned
the metal prong on myself then and quickly made a two-inch gash near my elbow on a fresh, unscarred area.  Since I wasn’t hiding it anymore, it didn’t matter where I did it and there was something exciting about destroying a new patch of skin.  I closed my eyes to enjoy the expected rush, but it was only a fraction of what I was used to.

I looked up to JC.  He was
silent, but watching me with intense eyes.

Although I didn’t get the immediate rush I wanted, I was rewarded with something much stronger when h
e silently wrapped his fingers around mine, blood dripping down our hands and pooling on the rock below us.  There was a sick sense of closeness to him.  It was as though our bodies and minds were connected, swirling together.  I felt lighter.  Warmer.  At ease.  Having never cut anyone else, I was surprised by my extreme reaction.  I had never experienced anything like it before.  Not even with sex.

“Feel better?” he asked.

I nodded, as the warmth spread through my body.  “Have I converted you?”

“No.”
  That disappointed me because I was already thinking we could do it a few more times before he left.

I closed my eyes to enjoy the
euphoric feeling that was now giving way to contentment.  “Maybe I should try your stress reliever, then,” I said absently.

“You would never do that.”

“How do you know?”

“
You’re a better person than me.”

“Because I prefer to hurt myself
instead of other people?”

“Yeah.”

“I kind of enjoyed cutting you.”

“Uh oh.  Should I be worried?”

I smiled, but said nothing.  I wasn’t sure I knew the answer.

It was
dark by then and stars had appeared overhead.  I lay back on the rock, still holding onto his hand.  I tried to find the Big Dipper, but when I traced lines between a few stars, they never made any sort of a shape.  “Where’s the Big Dipper?” I asked.

JC lay down next to me and
then extended his free hand, pointing to a group of stars low on the horizon and towards our left.

I studied the a
rea, but still couldn’t see it.

“And that’s
the Little Dipper,” he said, moving his hand to the right and up higher in the sky.  “If you go just a little farther, you’ll see Cassiopeia.”

“You’re making
shit up now.”

I could sense him looking at me
. “No, it’s a real constellation. Honest.”

“What’s it look like?”

“The letter W.”

I studied the
sky for a few moments, but it was elusive.  “I don’t see it.”

“It’s right there,” he said, pointing again.  “Tilt your head because the W is facing sideways.”

I did as he recommended and sure enough, it finally appeared.  “What else have you got?”

“Umm
… that’s Artemis.”

“What?”

“Artemis—the virgin goddess of wilderness.  That’s her head,” he said, pointing to a star directly overhead.  “And that’s her left boob and then her bow and arrow,” he added, drawing a line down and to the left.

“
I can see that,” I said, nodding.

He let out a big
laugh.  “That one is made up.”

I
dropped his hand and slapped his shoulder, which caused him to chuckle again.  After that, we quieted down until I decided to eat my birthday cake.  I removed the package from the pocket of my hoodie, tore open the plastic wrapping, and then handed one Little Debbie to JC.

“It’s your birthday. 
You should have both,” he said, leaning up on his elbow to face me.

“I want to share with you.”

He took the cake from my outstretched hand then ate half of it in one bite.  I was more delicate, plucking sprinkles off one by one and then peeling away the icing.

“
Hey, JC?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever feel like you’re made up of different layers?”

“
What do you mean?” he asked with a full mouth.

“
Like this cake.  On the outside, we’ve got all the pretty decorations like sprinkles that make people think they know who we are, but those decorations might not match what’s on the inside.”

“Like
sugary goodness on the outside and a nasty tasting cake on the inside?”

“
Precisely.”  I rolled on my side to face him.  “I can have on expensive jewelry and designer clothes, making everyone think my life is perfect, but on the inside I’m miserable.  The two don’t match up, but people don’t know.  And then you’ve got the icing,” I said, peeling some of the white coating off the cake.  “It gives people more impressions of what’s on the inside.  If it’s smooth and expertly applied, it makes people think what’s on the inside must be good.  It’s like no one expects a serial killer to look like an Abercrombie model.”

He chuckles again. 
“Is that why you used to wear so much makeup?”

“Maybe.” 
I had never thought of it like that, but he had a point.  Maybe I disliked my inside so much I tried to hide it behind a mountain of makeup.

“What’s the next layer?”

“The frosting holding the pieces of cake together,” I said.  “The frosting is where you finally get to something real.  It’s intricately connected to the cake and influences how it tastes.  All that meaningless fluff on the outside hides the cake, but the frosting is what ties it all together. It’s what makes us do what we do.”

“
What’s my frosting?” he asked.

“Anger,
guilt, resentment, hatred.”

“Yours?”

“Same thing.”

“You don’t hate anyone,” he said
, squeezing my hand.  “Well, Sheila, but that’s understandable.”

“That’s the final layer.  The cake itself.  That’s the whole essence of who we are.”

“And exactly who are we?”

“Two people who hate ourselves.  Which you would never know by looking at our
sprinkles and icing,” I said, holding up my half-eaten cake for emphasis.  “We look like normal, well-adjusted teens.  We can have normal conversations and fool people, but it’s there, always bubbling under the surface.”

“
Without your bracelet sprinkles, your icing might give people a clue,” he said, running his fingers along my bloody forearm.

“
You know what I mean, though.”

“You think we should look more messed up on the outside so people
will know how messed up we are on the inside?”

“
Yes … No.  It just makes it hard because people rarely go past the icing.  You and I have gotten down to the frosting and cake level.  That’s why we help each other.  That and we’re the same disgusting flavor of cake.”

“
Is this your way of telling me we’re good for each other?”

I smile
d, scooting closer to him so I could lean my head on his shoulder.  “I guess so.”

“I already knew that, but it’
s nice to hear you say we’re the same disgusting flavor of cake.  That might be the best thing a girl has ever said to me.”

He moved
his thumb under my chin and lifted it slightly so I was looking into his eyes.  His stare was intense once again and my breath caught in my throat.  The reaction from the dual-cutting must have remained with me because in that moment, I wanted to kiss him.  I had never felt like that before.

Without a word, he lowered his lips to mine.  I’ve kissed a lot of boys in my lifetime, but
none compared to that moment.  The earlier contentment was quickly replaced by a rush of intense heat and longing.

He
tugged on my lower lip, his warm breath mixing with mine.  I pushed myself up so I could touch his face.  My thumb traced along his cheekbone where he got hurt earlier and then around to the back of his neck.

“Chris will kill
us if she finds us,” I murmured.

“I’ll see her
headlamp before she gets here,” he said, rotating us slightly so he was facing the campfire in the distance.  His lips crushed against mine more urgently and I responded automatically, pushing myself closer to him.  He grabbed my legs and moved my knees so I was straddling him.  A soft moan escaped my lips and I felt him smile in response.

His hands trailed down my back and then under my shirt.  I shivered as they mad
e their way to the front, tracing delicate patterns, but then he stopped.  His movement became more focused as his hands ran in straight lines across my belly.  He was feeling the scars there.

“Anywhere else?”
he asked.

“No.”

He lifted the edge of my shirt and lowered his lips to one of the more recent cuts below my belly button.  My back arched in response to his touch.  Never before had one kiss had such an effect on me.

“
I want you,” I said urgently.

“Yeah?”
  He moved his hands towards my chest.

“
Now.”  I untucked his shirt.

“We can’t,” he
said, but didn’t stop my hands.

“We’ll be fast.  Chris won’t even know.”  I unbuttoned his pants, exposing his boxers.