Fall Out Girl (20 page)

“Oh, your highness, the princess, cusses too? I thought ‘foul language,’ as you say it, was just for the likes of us, the paupers.”

Sometimes I looked at Aunt Lace and wondered how it was possible we shared the same DNA. But I knew some mysteries were unfathomable.

“Where’s Jake? It’s almost ten,” I asked, squeezing detergent on a rag to wash the dirty dishes.

“Do I look like a fucking babysitter? I’m not here to tend to a grown ass man.”

Were you ever? “Who did he go out with?”

“Are you fucking retarded? I just said I don’t know his whereabouts.” She opened a cabinet and closed it with a bang. “No food.” She grunted.

And by food, she meant Spam. “My paycheck wasn’t enough for groceries. I had to pay my car insurance.”

“You ungrateful bitch. That’s what I get for charity. All these years taking care of you. How do you repay me? Being a lazy ass. That’s how.”

“Didn’t you get the monthly social security check from Dad?” I asked, placing the last washed plate on the rack.

“Fuck you,” she said, grabbing a Raman noodle.

“Tell Jake to come to my room when he gets home.”

“Do I look like your fucking servant?”

“Good night to you too, Aunt Lace.”

Inside my room, I opened my bag and retrieved the fruits I had salvaged from lunch. I saved the banana for Jake and sank my teeth into the Granny Smith apple, relishing in the tart taste in my mouth. I had gotten my appetite back. Well, sort of.

I liked to pretend that Caleb was just a murky chapter in the story of my life that I would title
An Unfortunate Series of Events
. Yeah, like the movie with the orphans. But at night, when I folded myself into bed to sleep, the painful throbbing in my soul was as real as the physical ache in my chest.

At school, I avoided him like the plague. And he avoided me, too. That made me feel equal parts devastated and relieved. I missed him so much that at times it was as if there wasn’t enough oxygen to feed my lungs, to keep my heart beating, and my blood flowing.

But I would survive his absence. So what if my sky was permanently gloomy and dark? Who needed bright blue skies anyway? So outdated. That’s the thing about teens, we thrive on drama and depression. It’s true. I read it in an article from one of those parenting magazines sitting in a rack at my ObGyn’s office.

I opened
Wuthering Heights
with hopes to finish it. A paper about the book was due at the end of the week, and I hadn’t written a single line. I had a hard time getting through this book. Heathcliff evoked an onslaught of emotions, none of them pretty or noble. His Catherine was a selfish bitch. But, my heart bled for her. Why would a high school teacher recommend such a tragic story for teenagers to read? Unbelievable.

The door squeaked open. Jake stumbled in and fell head first on my bed, crushing my schoolwork and squashing his banana.

“Jake, get off.” I tried to rescue the banana.

“Damn, you’re the moon in the sky. I’m starved.” He snatched the banana out of my hand, peeled, and shoved a mushy bite in his mouth.

“More like you have the munchies,” I said, smoothing a crumpled sheet of math work.

“Do you have anything else to eat?” he asked.

“No, sorry—Oh, wait, I have peanut butter somewhere in my closet.” I leaped from my bed and raided the closet.

“Found it.” I lifted the jar as one might heft a gold Olympic medal.

“Have I told you that you rock, Moon?”

“Jesus, you get so sappy when you’re high.” With my finger, I scooped a generous lump of peanut butter and handed the jar to Jake. “Here, eat it. It’s good protein, and you need it.”

He held the jar in his hand, and his eyes burned into me. “I don’t deserve you.” Tears flared.

“Shut up and eat it.”

“No, since I’m making a fool of myself, might as well be thorough. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And I never thanked you.”

“Sappy…,” I said in a singsong voice.

“For real, Moon. I love you. More than I ever loved anyone, even Mom.”

My heart twisted painfully. “Right back at you, Jake.”

“Do you believe in premonitions?”

“I believe you’re high and in need of a scolding. But come here, I’m not in the mood to preach.”

Jake rested his head on my lap, the jar of peanut butter forgotten at his side.

“I had a dream that Dad came back to take me to hell with him,” he said with a whisper. His warm tears wetting my legs.

“Hush, I killed him once. I won’t mind killing him twice. If he ever comes for you, I’ll send him back to hell, where he belongs.” I rhythmically caressed his hair, and sang a lullaby that Dad had always sung to me. It was a church song, but it had a calming effect on my soul. I suppose it did the same to Jake because it had always lulled him to sleep.

Long after Jake’s breathing became even, I stared numbly into space as memories of his dad flooded me.

When I moved into my aunt’s, my bond with Jake was immediate. He was an oasis in the middle of the desert. (Sorry for inserting a cliché, but it’s the truth). Plus he reminded me so much of my dad it was scary.

Soon after I moved in, Aunt Lace quit her job. I suspected that getting the monthly checks from Mr. Bakosi and social security influenced her decision.

We didn’t talk money. I had a small trust fund that would pay for college, and I could only touch it when I turned eighteen. I didn’t care what she did with the money Dad left for her to raise me. From where I was standing, she made it clear that I was a burden, and she wouldn’t hesitate to kick me out. Besides, her hand was heavy and left angry marks on my face whenever I said something to upset her.

So I put up with all her unstable temper and her angry outbursts without ever rebelling. That was until Uncle Bob moved back in with us. Until I did the unthinkable and changed the course of who I would become.

I knew I was going to kill Uncle Bob the first night I heard the bang of Jake’s door followed by his cries, and Uncles’ Bob grunts. I had spent that first night staring at the murky shadows dancing on the ceiling, eyes wide open, stiff back pressed into the mattress, fear corroding my chest like battery acid.

Then it happened. It was just another day, nothing extraordinary. After classes, I stayed at school for softball practice. When I got home, sweat covered my skin, dampening my jersey, and exhaustion ached in every muscle. My feet were raw; the darn cleats were getting too tight. I kicked them off.

I saw Auntie Lace sprawled on the sofa. She was hammered. One of her eyes was bruised and swollen, and she had a trail of dry blood down her nose. On the coffee table, I saw a crack pipe, a bag of crack rocks, and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

Not thinking much of it, (Uncle Bob roughed her up often) I headed to my room. Jake’s bedroom door was ajar. A muffled grunt escaped from the room. Oh, no… Jake.

A sharp shriek came from his room. Anger boiled in my veins and surged through my body. Not my poor Jake. I couldn’t allow Uncle Bob to continue to hurt him.

I retrieved my aluminum bat from the case. Gripping it with both hands, I pushed the door open with my bare foot. A rusty smell permeated the air. I wrinkled my nose, blood. The dimming daylight filtered through the curtains. A naked Uncle Bob stood by Jake’s bed, his back to the door.

In a guttural voice, he said, “You want to hit your old man, boy? I’ll teach you a thing or two about respect.” Yellow liquid splashed over Jake’s wretched body. Uncle Bob was pissing on Jake.

Every muscle in my body coiled, and my stomach churned. Clenching my teeth, I remained stoic. I had to keep my wits. Uncle Bob grabbed a belt, and the sound of the leather cutting on Jakes skin startled me into action.

I sprinted inside the room. Without an ounce of hesitation, I hit the man’s head. I had only one shot at it. I had to hit a home run. The blow of the bat against his skull sounded like the chime of a bell. He collapsed like a crumbling building.

Tripping over his body, I reached for Jake. His naked and bloody body lay limp on the bed. His face, beaten to a pulp, was unrecognizable. “Oh God, oh God. Jake, no. Please no.”

I dashed to the living room and called emergency services. Remember I told you I was quick to think? Well, I glanced at the pipes and rocks on the coffee table and foresaw Auntie Lace imprisoned, and DCF taking Jake and me to foster care. I retrieved the paraphernalia and drugs from the table and hid it in the back of my closet.

Back in the bedroom, I leaped over Uncle Bob’s body without looking at him. Then, I gathered Jake’s lifeless body in my arms, and I rocked him. And I prayed.

MY LIFE HAD had many twists, sharp turns, and steep slopes. But going from badass drug pusher to a glorified sitter of a sulky teenager with drug issues wasn’t how I envisioned spending my senior year. Jake was out of control. I ran out of what to do or say to help him. I considered visiting the school social worker. But fear of her snitching on him kept me from seeking help.

Caleb was part of a distant past. Or so I told myself, about eighty-six thousand and four hundred times a day (that’s the amount of seconds in a day).

I was getting ready to bed, (mind you it was a Friday night), when I heard a rap at the door.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Jerry.”

“Hey, what’s up?” I kept the door ajar, a clear message I wasn’t in the mood for chatting.

“Pat called. She was at a party at the house of a girl from school named Samantha. Apparently, Jake is putting up a show and getting loud. Samantha is afraid the neighbors will call the cops.”

He looked at his feet as if embarrassed. “Lace said she wants nothing to do with it.” He was almost apologetic. Jerry had been having a fling with Aunt Lace. Yeah, it was mortifying. But they were both adults.

“Oh, and Pat left the party. She couldn’t convince Jake to leave with her, so she called. If things go down and the cops show up, she knows Jake will be in trouble.”

“Great.” I puffed a heavy breath of air. “Thank you, Jerry. I’ll go fetch him.”

I changed into sweat pants, slid into an oversized coat, and grabbed my keys.

I glanced at my cell. It was past midnight. A couple inches of snow coated my car. “Shit.” I dug in the trunk for a snow sweeper.

“Could this night get any worse?” I asked myself as my car crawled up a slippery Main Street.

When one is under the cloud of bad spell, never, and I repeat, never ask such an idiotic question. The universe is attentive to your every word. Trust me, it’s a bad omen.

It took me a century to reach my destination. A layer of ice covered the roads, making it sleeker than an ice rink. I’d driven faster during a Nor’easter.

Finding a parking space was awful. After trudging through the snow and falling twice, I reached Samantha’s front door. It was wide open. I slid inside the screen door and began my search for Jake.

On a console in the foyer, several incenses burned in a futile attempt to battle the smell of pot.

“Thank God you’re here.” Samantha grabbed my hand and towed me through a throng of bodies dancing, grappling, and grinding in the living room.

She opened the French door leading to a hot tub.

Remember what I said about bad omen? Well, inside the hot tub with snowflakes melting in his hair was a boy who should remain unnamed. Fine, I know that you know. It was Caleb. Megan and Jessica sat on either side of him.

One of the guys from the football team, Mike I thought his name was, sat on the opposite side with a blonde girl straddling him. And the monkey in the middle was Jake with two girls on his lap. How many people fit in a hot tub?

“Jake, time to go,” I said with my eyes fixed on him. I wouldn’t look at Caleb. I repeated the mantra in my head.

Samantha cupped her mouth and whispered in my ear, “He’s naked.”

I groaned, and a shudder ran through my body. Why did these things happen to me?

“There you are, my Moon.” Jake grinned at me. “Come in. There’s room for you next to Caleb.”

“Jake, please. Get out.” I felt my cold cheeks burn.

I stood by the tub and repeated with my best stern and motherly voice. “It’s past curfew. You need to come with me.”

To my relief, he accepted my outstretched hand. My relief was short-lived and quickly morphed into horror. Jake tugged my hand, my feet lost footing, my body propelled forward, and I fell head first into the tub.

Strong, capable hands pulled me up. “Are you all right, love?” Caleb asked, pulling me against his naked chest. His face full of concern.

I coughed and gasped for air trying to get footing inside the steamed tub. “Fuck,” I said, realizing my body was pushed up against Caleb. His touch felt like the sting of a bee. I planted my hands on his chest and pushed away from him.

“Damn you, Jake. Out. Now.” I grunted all of this through clenched teeth.

There must have been something in my voice that warned Jake I was beyond pissed. He stood up, butt naked, and scrambled out of the tub. Gross, I was scarred for life.

I gathered the remains of my dignity and stood. My heavy, wet coat weighted me down. With clumsy steps, I stumbled over tangled legs and was about to fall again when Caleb grabbed my arms and steadied me.