Covet (10 page)

But the hard work would be worth it if she didn’t have to rush through a shower after gym class at school, or make do with a hurried sponge bath on the weekends in a bathroom stall at the mall.

“It would definitely take some work to clear all this stuff out, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” she told Peter firmly.

He gave the room a grim onceover. “You might have second thoughts about that once we can actually get inside here and start scrubbing the place down.”

Tessa shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to do some major cleaning after moving into a place. Some of the rooms and apartments we lived in over the years were pretty awful.”

“If you’re willing to help, then we can get started right away. Not tonight,” he amended. “It’s too dark, and we’ve still got to rig something up for your car window. Plus you said something about having to study. But if you can spare a few minutes tomorrow morning we can try to clear out at least a few of the boxes. Knowing the kinds of things my mom tends to bring home, more than half the stuff in this place will need to be junked.”

“Count me in,” agreed Tessa eagerly. “It would be awesome to have a bathroom to use when I need one. I’ll do whatever is necessary to get this one in order.”

Peter shifted a bit awkwardly from one foot to the next, looking down at the ground as he muttered, “Like I said, it isn’t the greatest but at least a little better than what you’re dealing with now. And, well, I would have invited you to stay inside the house instead of sleeping out here in your car, but – well, things are –
difficult
with my mom. She – she’s not a very nice person, Tessa, and I don’t want to subject you to her meanness.”

She placed a hand gently on his arm, frowning when even that light touch caused him to jerk away abruptly. “No, it’s okay, Peter. What you’re offering to do is way more than I could have asked for, hoped for. Especially considering that you and I aren’t exactly close friends. I mean, not that - “

“I get it,” he assured her gently. “We’ve known each other almost a year now, but I think I’ve learned more about you in the past hour or two than I have in all that time. But you’ve always been nice to me, always said hello, and you’re one of the few people who doesn’t make me feel like some freaky weirdo. So even though it isn’t much I’d like to help you out when I can. I just wish things were different with my mom so that I’d feel comfortable inviting you inside.”

“I understand. And I don’t want to make trouble for you, Peter, make things more difficult. It sounds like your life with her hasn’t been particularly happy. Or easy.”

He scoffed. “That’s putting it mildly. You have no idea what that woman has put me through over the years. She’s a crazy, selfish bitch, and I don’t want her anywhere near you, Tessa. You’ve been through enough trauma of your own, especially these last few months, and the last thing you need is to be exposed to someone as evil as my mother. She’d make Michelle’s mother seem like a saint in comparison.”

Tessa resisted the urge to pry further, sensing that Peter found the subject of his mother both distasteful and disturbing, so she didn’t ask any additional questions. He went inside the garage, emerging a few minutes later with a large piece of cardboard, a box cutter, and a roll of duct tape. Between the two of them they were able to tape up the broken window securely enough that the cool evening air didn’t make the interior of the car too cold.

And even though she was still resigned to sleeping in her car for the foreseeable future, Tessa couldn’t help feeling safer and more secure than she had in a long time. It was enough, at least for now, to know that she had a friend she could count on – something that she had rarely been able to do for the better part of her young life.

She had learned over the years not to get too attached to any one thing or person or place, whether that might have been a favorite doll that got left behind during a hastily organized move, or a teacher who had been kind to her, or the house that belonged to the man her mother had been involved with for a few months. It had been pointless, really, to form such attachments, or become comfortable with their current situation, because everything could and did change overnight on a regular basis.

But this time around Tessa didn’t have to worry about Gillian suddenly hearing the voices in her head – her “spirit guides” as she’d been wont to call them – telling her to move to Santa Fe where she would be sure to find new inspiration for her writing. Or that they would have to sneak out in the middle of the night to escape a boyfriend who had become a little too demanding for Gillian’s liking. This time Tessa was the one in control of her fate and her future, at least as long as her case worker at Child Protective Services didn’t discover that she was more or less living in her car.

With Peter’s help, however, she didn’t feel nearly as alone or desperate as she had since leaving her foster home with the Wallace’s. The two of them had put in long hours of work to clean out the bathroom of the in-law unit, work that had involved getting rid of dozens of boxes of junk that had contained everything from dusty books to moldy magazines to rusty kitchen utensils. Once the bathroom had been emptied of boxes, the real work had begun with scrubbing and sanitizing every surface, cleaning away several years of mildew and debris. But at least the plumbing worked – if one didn’t count the pathetically low water pressure in the shower, and the fact that the water temperature was lukewarm at best, tepid at worst.

Tessa never complained, though. It was more than enough for her to have a place to shower and clean up, and where she could store her toiletries and a few of her things without having to cart them around in her trunk all the time. Peter’s confidence that his mother would never even notice Tessa’s presence had thus far been well founded, and over the past few weeks he’d even begun to invite her inside the main house when Mrs. Lockwood was at work. They often did their laundry together at the same time, saving Tessa the time and expense of going to the laundromat.

The amount of junk stored in the in-law unit should have prepared her for what was contained inside the main house, but Tessa hadn’t been able to stop from staring in disbelief at the condition of the place. Used as she was to living in rather spartan quarters with just the bare necessities most of the time, she was unable to comprehend how someone could live in such a state – with boxes and bins and bags stacked from floor to ceiling and on every available surface or piece of furniture. Peter had created a narrow pathway that led down the hallway to his bedroom and bathroom, both of which were neat and tidy with no trace of the clutter that existed elsewhere in the house.

She’d begun to spend most evenings with him in his room, doing homework or watching TV or eating a late dinner. Mrs. Lockwood worked the swing shift at her job – four p.m. to midnight – and was never around when Tessa hung out with Peter. On weekends, she indulged her other compulsion – drinking – and would spend those evenings making the rounds of the bars with her friends. According to Peter, his mother was what he termed a “functioning alcoholic” – usually able to hold down a job and manage her daily chores. But on weekends in particular she would drink – a lot – and was either stinking drunk or nursing a bad hangover most of the time, and Peter would go out of his way to avoid her.

Tessa sensed that there was more – a whole lot more – about Peter’s relationship with his mother that he hadn’t divulged. He truly seemed to hate her, to hold some sort of bitter grudge against her, and spoke often about how he couldn’t wait to move out on his own. He had turned eighteen in the middle of May – less than two weeks before Tessa’s own seventeenth birthday – and was due to graduate from high school within the next few days. But when she’d quizzed him about why he wasn’t planning to leave right after that, he’d only muttered something about needing to save a little more money before he could manage that. Tessa hadn’t pressed for more details, but guessed that there was a story behind that, too.

Over the past few weeks, she’d gradually grown closer to Peter, confiding things in him that she’d never told anyone else before – about her mother and how hard their life had been; about her difficulties in school and how she felt stupid most of the time; and about those times when she had to fight off her own bouts of depression and worry that she was going to become like her mother.

Peter had sympathized with the hardships she’d endured growing up; had assured her time and time again that she was actually very bright, and had helped her with homework; had shared the research he’d done to show that while bipolar disorder could be hereditary, there were other factors to be considered as well and that Tessa wasn’t necessarily at risk.

He had arranged to get her car window replaced, and was constantly offering her food and supplies. When she’d protested that she could buy her own toilet paper, Peter had just laughed and showed her the stockpile his mother had accumulated.

“She probably buys a few dozen rolls every time she goes shopping,” he’d told her. “Like there’s suddenly going to be a shortage or something. There must be a few hundred rolls in this pile. I doubt she’ll miss half a dozen
.”

And more and more, without even being aware it was happening, Tessa had begun to depend on him – both for his friendship and his guidance. After so many years of having to look out for her mother, of worrying about how they were going to pay the rent, or when Gillian was going to uproot them yet again, it was a relief to have someone to rely on at least a little. Even though she was still relegated to sleeping in her car, Tessa felt safe knowing that Peter was just a short distance away, that all she would have to do was send him a text and he’d be right over.

But there was nothing in the least bit romantic about their relationship. Peter had never attempted to kiss her or indicate that he was interested in her that way. She wondered at times if he was gay, but nothing he had ever said gave her cause to believe that. She did know that he disliked being touched, would almost cringe if she casually touched him on the arm or shoulder, though he didn’t seem to have a problem touching her in a similar manner. A few of their co-workers at Old Navy had made comments to her from time to time, asking if she and Peter were dating, and she had truthfully replied that no, they were just good friends. The evenings they spent in his room watching a movie or eating tacos certainly couldn’t be considered a date, and were no different than the times she’d done the same thing with Michelle.

He was kind to her, and Tessa hadn’t known much kindness in her life, so that automatically made her grateful to him. She told him frequently how much she appreciated everything he’d done for her, and that she wished she had someway to repay him. Peter had assured her that just being his friend was more than enough, and that he knew she would do the same if their positions were reversed.

Tessa’s life had fallen into a comfortable though somewhat unorthodox daily routine, and she had begun to think she could actually pull this off, could keep up this sort of existence for another year until she was of legal age. She and Peter had applied for summer jobs at the local Parks and Recreation department, and while the pay wasn’t great – barely over minimum wage – the money she’d earn would be added to what she had already saved in preparation for living on her own next year.

But history had a nasty way of repeating itself when one was least expecting it, and mere days before Peter’s graduation and the end of the school term – on a Wednesday, of course – the other shoe was dropped, and Tessa’s life as she knew it was shaken up yet again.

It was during her break at work when she noticed the voice mail on her cell phone. She recognized the number as Michelle’s, and frowned worriedly as she began to listen to the message. Michelle had quit her job at Forever 21 almost a month ago, and hadn’t kept in close touch, so for her to be calling out of the blue this way couldn’t possibly be good news.

“Tessa, hey, it’s Michelle. Sorry I haven’t called in awhile, life’s been a little crazy. I’m staying with Denny now, and we plan on leaving for San Diego at the end of June. But that’s not why I’m calling. I – oh, crap, no way to break it to you gently, I’m afraid. Stupid Brittany opened her big fat mouth and blabbed to your case worker when she stopped by for an unannounced visit that you aren’t living at the house any longer. And of course the woman called Mom right away, and that’s when all hell broke loose apparently. Mom’s furious at Brit because this means the support checks are going to be stopped, and your case worker is pissed at Mom for keeping her in the dark. Anyway, the bottom line is that your case worker is planning to come by your school tomorrow morning and have the principal call you in for a meeting, so I thought you should be prepared. Hey, give me a call when you get this and I’ll fill you in on the rest
.”

With shaking fingers, Tessa placed the call to Michelle, though there really wasn’t a whole lot more to tell. Michelle had evidently received the information second hand, so she didn’t have all the facts, but it was more than enough to send Tessa into a panic. She was quivering all over by the time she ended the call, her phone almost slipping from her nerveless fingers.

“Hey, what’s going on?” asked Peter in concern as he walked inside the employee break room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She raised tear-filled eyes to him, her mouth trembling as she fought back tears. “Worse. A monster.”

Peter remained as calm and impassive as always while he listened to her recount the phone conversation with Michelle. At the end of it, he merely gave her hand a little squeeze and told her quietly, “We’ll figure something out, okay? I don’t want you to worry about it, Tessa.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “How can I not worry about it? By this time tomorrow I’m going to be living in some awful group home, Peter, with recovering drug addicts and juvies for roommates. I – I can’t live in a place like that, Peter. I just can’t. I don’t think I’d be able to stand it.”