From the Damage 1 - Opposites Attract (2 page)

Kelly rolled her eyes at his immaturity.

“That’s a great start,” Daphne said with a smirk. “I didn’t think you’d write anything.”

Gage sighed and craned his head back against the chair to stare at the lights.

“You think that’s going to help anything?” Ryder scoffed. “You can’t deal with the shooting by pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Some idiot came to school with a gun and got killed. It didn’t have anything to do with me, so there’s nothing to deal with. Why the heck would I want to waste my time writing that down? There was enough written about it in the papers already.”

Ryder glared at him. “You’re telling me it didn’t bother you to see your friend’s head blown off by a sniper?”

“Well, gee, why don’t we talk about it? Better yet, let’s all hold hands and sing

‘Kumbaya’.”

“Now that
is
a good idea,” Daphne said. “Come on. Everybody hold hands.”

Gage narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“But it was your idea,” she said sweetly. “Relax. I’m not going to make you, but Ryder is right. You can’t cope with something by avoiding it.”

Gage scowled at no one in particular.

Daphne moved to the middle of the circle and held up her clipboard. “Okay, now as much as I want you to learn to talk to me, I realize it may be easier to talk to your peers. Therefore, I have a little buddy system I want to try out. I’ve assigned each of you a ‘backup buddy’, based on the one-on-one interviews we did last week. You’ll be working with this person on the group projects I have planned. I hope you’ll be able to lean on your buddy too. Kay, you’re with Carmen, and Kelly is partnered with Gage, and—”

“Excuse me?” Kelly whispered on reflex. Not only was she forced to attend therapy she didn’t want anything to do with—therapy sessions with some girl from her school that she could barely stand—but now she was paired up with the delinquent.

Could this get any worse?

When Daphne turned to look at her with a curious expression on her face and asked, “Did you say something?” Kelly wanted to disappear.

Kelly stared like an idiot, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make her sound like a total loser. “I was just going to ask if there’s a soda machine nearby.

I’m
really
thirsty.”

“Of course,” Daphne said. “Just go down the hall and to the right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, grabbing her purse and scurrying out the door.

On her way out, she heard Daphne continue, “Ryder, you’re with Meagan. Now, I want you all to find a spot to talk with your buddy and work on getting to know each other.”

When Kelly came back to the room with a Diet Pepsi, she glanced at him nervously as she returned to her seat. He looked over at her, rolled his eyes, and then stood up and moved to the empty chair that had been between them.

“So tell me...” He stretched his legs out and laced his fingers behind his head.

“How worried could your parents possibly be? You look like you just stepped out of an issue of
Parenting.
”

“And you’ve read a lot of issues of
Parenting
?” Kelly asked with a small grin, knowing he couldn’t possibly be the type to sit and read much of anything, let alone parenting magazines.

He laughed. “I’m serious though. Aren’t they overreacting, sending you here?”

She shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

“So start with the last straw—you know...that one event that finally landed you in freaking sharing-and-caring land.”

“My parents are really conservative.”

He looked at her expectantly, so she continued.

“Around the last week of school, I was caught…” She paused, glancing down at her shoes for a second. “I was caught hooking up with this guy in the janitor’s closet.

My parents hit the ceiling. I humiliated them
beyond repair.
”

Gage raised an eyebrow. “A boyfriend?”

“Huh?” Kelly asked, lost in the angry emotions that always came with thinking about her parents. She was so distracted with bitter thoughts that she’d barely heard her backup buddy at all.

“The guy.” Gage leaned forward. “Was he a boyfriend? ‘Cuz I figure, if he was a boyfriend, your parents would be embarrassed, but hey, couples make out, so really, what’s the shame? But if he wasn’t dating you, they’d be—how’d you say it?
Humiliated
beyond repair
.”

Is he mocking me?
She couldn’t tell. Her cheeks flushing, she wanted to change the subject, but she found herself muttering, “No...he wasn’t a boyfriend.”

“Well, now I’m interested.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You seem like such a good girl, so what are you doing ‘hooking up’, as you so delicately put it, with someone you’re not dating?”

Who does this guy think he is?
she thought as a small fire of indignation spread through her. “I don’t have to answer that,” she snapped, shooting him a glare.

His gray eyes lit up as he chuckled. “Whoa! Calm down, Mr. Hyde.”

She leaned forward to mock Gage. “What about you? Why are you so angry?”

He laughed. “I’m not.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re practically on fire. Nobody can get too close because they might get burned.”

“Maybe I want it that way.”

“I bet you do.”

He eyed her, but she ignored him, relaxed against the chair, and closed her eyes.

The room smelled like clay and pastels, like the art classes she had loved in elementary school. The sound of the rain and the hushed voices of the others were somehow soothing.

“What’s with these windows? You’d think therapy would be more private.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, then sat up straight and folded her hands neatly on her lap. “You can’t see in,” she said. “They’re just for light.”

“How do you know?”

She shrugged. “We have windows like that at my mom’s store.”

He nodded.

“So can I ask you something?” she said after yet another awkward moment of silence.

“You just did.” When she stumbled on her words, he laughed. “Go ahead.”

“Why are you on probation?”

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat with a loud cough that made people stare. “Well, given the alternative...”

“Huh?”

“So I don’t go to jail.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I said you could ask. I didn’t say I’d answer.”

“Well, if you ask me, I think you’re just scared.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask you.”

Kelly shut up, folding her hands neatly in her lap again, and neither of them spoke for the rest of the session.

≈≈≈

Still chewing rapidly on her gum, Meagan glanced over at Ryder and leaned forward. “Was it scary?”

He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

“The shooting,” she explained, as if he didn’t know what she was asking about.

“Well, I wouldn’t want it to happen again.”

Meagan laughed a little, but she felt like it sounded forced and awkward—like laughing just wasn’t appropriate in a support group, especially when talking about a school shooting. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Was it scary?” Ryder asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Whatever brought you here,” he said, still looking at her with those deep brown eyes. “Was it scary?” he repeated.

She couldn’t tell if he was asking out of concern or if he was just trying to be a jerk. Meagan blew another bubble with her gum, her heartbeat rapidly increasing at just the thought of the motives behind her presence. “Yeah…yeah, it was scary.”

He glanced away as if he felt guilty, and in the awkward silence, Meagan’s uneasiness grew and she began to chomp away on her gum again. “Okay, what’s with the gum?”

In that instant, maybe for the first time in her life, Meagan realized how loud and annoying the sound of her gum must be. She gave him a sheepish grin. “Oh, sorry. It’s a nervous habit I guess.”

Turning to face her, he leaned an elbow on the back of his chair. “What are you nervous about?”

“All this talking and sharing our feelings…I’m just afraid I’ll say something—”

“That sounds stupid?” Ryder offered.

Meagan nodded. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“I know the feeling,” Ryder said.

≈≈≈

Gage tapped his pen against the scratched wooden surface of his coffee table.

The journal Daphne had given each member of the group lay open in front of him, and on the inside cover he’d scribbled Kelly’s number—not that he’d ever use it.

He hated group therapy. He could talk until the world ended, and it still wouldn’t change a damn thing, so what was the point? Writing? Now there was a task with a point. It wouldn’t change anything, but nobody would ever have to read what he’d written or know how he felt.

Just as he brought the pencil to the page, a knock at the door shattered the silence of his apartment. Rolling his eyes, he shut the journal and shoved it under a worn-out couch cushion. He looked out the peephole to the hallway of the apartment complex.

Shane stood outside, one hand stuffed in his pocket, a beer clutched in the other, bouncing from foot to foot.

Agitated, Gage pulled the door open but left the chain locked. “Hey, man,” he said through the inch of open space. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping I could hang out a while.” Shane ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair.

Gage shut the door and yanked the chain loose, then opened it again. “It’s late,”

he said as his friend slid through the door and plopped himself down on the couch.

“Yeah, but I knew you’d be up.” He reached behind his ear, pulled out a joint, and lit it.

“Man, how many times have I told you not to bring that shit here?”

“Relax,” Shane said, blowing a huge puff of smoke in Gage’s face.

He held his breath and then ducked onto the couch. He shook his head when Shane offered him the pot. “Put that out, man. Now.”

“Just take a hit and chill.”

“My probation officer could stop by anytime to drug test me, you dumbass.”

“Yeah, but they’ve got stuff that can clean you out in like, eight hours.”

“No thanks. I’ve got too much to lose.”

Shane nodded solemnly and then reluctantly went to the sink to put out the joint.

“So listen,” he said as he turned the faucet on, “I kind of need a place to crash.”

Gage clenched his teeth, rolling his eyes. He should have known that question was next. “I’d like to help you out, man, but—”

“I know your ‘no sleepover’ rule, but you’re the only guy I know who doesn’t still live with his parents.” Walking into the living room, he plopped down on the couch, fixing his hazy, intoxicated gaze somewhere to Gage’s left—although Gage realized Shane was probably seeing double or triple. “My old man said if I come home drunk one more time, I’m off to military school.”

“Yeah? What do you think he’s going to do if you don’t come home at all?”

He laughed, his lips sliding into a sly grin. “That’s the beauty of it. See, he never said I had to come home.” When Gage didn’t laugh, he continued. “Come on, man, be a pal. I’ll sleep on the couch, and you’ll never even know I’m here.”

“Alright, alright,” Gage groaned. “But you’re out at the crack of dawn, hear me?”

“Yeah, man, I got it.”

“If you got anything illegal on you, you better unload that shit out in your car right now. I don’t need no damn contraband in my place if my P.O. shows up.”

He stretched out on the couch. “I’m clean.”

“Up. You’re sleeping in my room.” He jerked his thumb toward the bedroom door.

“Dude, I like you, but—”

“Not with me, dumbass!” Gage hissed, kicking the couch.

He laughed and stood up. “It was a joke. And stop calling me dumbass.”

“Yeah, real funny, dumbass.”

Shane shook his head as he went into Gage’s room and closed the door behind him.

Gage scratched his head, wondering how he always got roped into these things.

He walked over to the refrigerator, guzzled what was left in the half-carton of milk, and then went to the other bedroom. He opened the door slowly, so it wouldn’t make a sound. Leaning against the doorway, he rested his head against the frame as he looked in on the little girl sleeping in her crib.

At six months old, Lizzie looked like an angel, sleeping peacefully beneath the glow of stars and moons pasted on the ceiling. Tiptoeing into the room, he covered her up with her blanket, even though he knew she’d just kick it away in a few minutes.

Sitting down in the rocking chair next to the crib, he finally let himself relax as he listened to the slow, rhythmic sounds of Lizzie’s breathing. With a quiet groan, he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, then leaned his head back to stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars above.
Man, she loves those things,
he thought with a smile. It was worth the three hours it took to paste them up, even braving his fear of ladders.

As soon as he was done with probation and therapy, he planned to take Lizzie and get the hell out of town. No more druggie friends stopping by at two o’clock in the morning, and no more high schools with guns. Like he’d told Shane, he had too much to lose.

Chapter Two—Breakdown

Kelly walked into the convenience store and headed over to the cappuccino machine in the back for her daily dose of caffeine. She scrunched up her nose as she looked at the labels on the machine, not quite sure if she should select White Chocolate Caramel or French Vanilla.

“Vanilla’s too plain for you,” a familiar voice came from behind her. “Go with the white chocolate.”

Turning, her breath caught in her throat as she looked at the blond-haired, blue-eyed hunk in a Clearwater High letter jacket.

His lips slid into a warm, friendly smile. “Hi, Kel.”

“Alex? Hi,” she stammered, feeling like an idiot. She glanced around for a quick exit, but she was cornered between the coffee machine and a Krispy Kreme display case.

“How’ve ya been?” Alex slid his hands into his pockets, keeping his gaze on hers as if he had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of at all. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Because...well, you know...it kinda seems like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”