Glass Girl (A Young Adult Novel) (23 page)

“After what he’s been through, he deserves to know. Call him.”

I scrolled through names until Dad’s appeared and I touched it. As it rang, Henry whispered, “Tell him you’re with me this evening and I’ll bring you home before your curfew.”

“I don’t have a curfew,” I whispered.

He gave me a sad smile. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dad answered and I almost lost my nerve, but Henry took my hand.

I spilled it all within a couple of minutes. I told Dad how the whole school was talking about Wyatt and how it had hurt my feelings. I told him Thanet tried to defend me and got hurt. And I told him about the window and the stinging scratches on my cheeks and forehead. I told him they would heal.

I wasn’t surprised when he talked about calling Ms. Ewing and pressing charges against Grayson. It had no effect on me when his voice shook as he asked if I wanted to go back to my old school. I don’t know that I’d ever felt so numb. I think a girl can only live so many nightmares before she shuts down.

“I don’t want to press any charges and I don’t want to get Ms. Ewing upset,” I said.

Dad sniffed and made lots of noises that sounded like
hoo
and
ahh
and also words I wasn’t allowed to say. “That is a monumentally bad idea, Meg. Letting something go when it could escalate. We know where that road leads.”

“This isn’t like that,” I said. “
This
road leads nowhere…it just sort of disappears over the horizon. You have to trust me.”

Trust was a hot button word for Dad. My family was huge on trust—earning it, losing it, giving it. Dad’s trust lectures were kind of famous among my friends in Pittsburgh. Through the phone connection, I felt Dad getting himself together in the name of
Trust.

“Of course I trust you, Meg,” he said. “We’ll deal with it your way. But if one more incident happens, we’ll deal with it my way.”

I ended the call by telling Dad I was with Henry and would be home late. He didn’t care. He’d returned to his workaholic ways. It was how he coped. I’d be alone now more than ever.

“Will you do something for me?” Henry said.

“I thought I just did.” In fact, he’d been a little bossy since he found us in the locker room.

“One more thing. Put on a bathing suit.”

“Ha ha,” I said. “’Cause we have such beautiful weather for a swim.”

He turned off the truck and took the keys from the ignition. “No, I’m serious. I want to take you somewhere and swimsuits are required. Just put one on with really warm sweats over it. And grab a couple of towels.”

“So…do you need to borrow a suit?” I said. “I’ve got a one piece that might work.”

He laughed. “I have a pair of shorts in the truck I can use.”

He climbed out of the truck and started digging around behind the seat, shoving oily rags and tools aside. Finally he fished out a wadded up pair of shorts and some sweats. They both looked moderately clean but horribly wrinkled. He slung them over his shoulder and headed toward my front door.

I followed, stepping around him to unlock the door. “You can change in my parents’ room,” I said. “Give me a minute?”

“Take your time,” he said.

In my room, I went through a box of summer clothes that I hadn’t needed here, finally finding the only bathing suit that fit—a bikini.
Darn
. It was late November and beginning to snow—where in the world would we go that required a bathing suit? I grabbed ratty Canning Mills sweats and the suit, then locked myself in the bathroom.

I examined my face in a mirror and tried not to cry again because salty tears would be excruciating. The glass had left behind what looked like tiny paper cuts on my cheekbones and forehead, one barely missing my right eye. I did the best I could to camouflage them, and then gave up. I shimmied on the bathing suit and sweats and took two beach towels from the top shelf of the cabinet.

I practiced the words I’d need to say soon
.
“Grayson said you haven’t told me about your Thanksgiving,
”
I whispered. “Is there something you need to tell me about Colorado? Are blondes really more fun?” Nothing sounded right.

Henry smiled when I opened the bathroom door. “Cute.” He pointed at my old sweats.

I locked up and followed him to the truck, climbing in the driver’s door and scooting over to the passenger seat. We drove through town and then east, further and further from civilization, into rocky hills. He parked the truck on the side of the road, next to a trailhead. Even in the fading late afternoon light, the forest looked impossibly dark.

He leaned over me and grabbed a flashlight from his glove box. “We’ll need this,” he said. “It’s just a short walk. Follow me and stay close.”

We hiked up the trail toward a cave where a small sign said, “Muh Cave.” It looked like the perfect home for a grizzly bear, so I hesitated.

“Are we supposed to go in there?”

“Not officially, but don’t worry.”

He took my hand and led me through the narrow opening and into the darkness, turned on his flashlight and put his hand over the top of my head so I wouldn’t bump it on the low rock ceiling.

“Listen,” he said.

I stopped walking and heard the soft gurgling of water—it sounded a little like pasta boiling.

“Hot springs,” he said. “They’re all around Chapin, but this one’s my favorite because it warms this whole cave.”

I couldn’t believe it. He’d brought me to the springs. Probably the one from the Indian story he’d told me. The place where healing was guaranteed, right?

Steam rose around us in thick, warm waves. It felt so good when it touched my skin that I shuddered. Henry led me around some large boulders until we were standing in a larger part of the cave with an opening in the ground, an opening full of gently bubbling water. I had no idea places like this existed.

Henry leaned against a rock and pulled me close. “Thanet texted me while you were changing and told me what Grayson said.” He tilted my chin up. “You have to know I would never lie to you.”

I bit my lip to keep from crying. “Then tell me what he meant.”

He took the towels from me and spread them out on a flat boulder. “Sit.”

I sat with my legs curled under me and he knelt in front of me. He tugged my feet toward him, untying one running shoe and easing it off.

As he untied my other shoe, he said, “Brooke was in Boulder.”

I jerked my foot away, tied my shoe back and reached for my other shoe. I couldn’t have this conversation. I wouldn’t let him ease me into a breakup when we were supposed to be here so I could tell him my secrets. “I need to go home. Can you just take me home?”

“Let me finish, please.” He held my other shoe behind his back so I couldn’t reach it. “Just let me talk, Meg.”

I rested my head on my knees, closed my eyes and focused on breathing.
In slowly, out slowly. In slowly, out slowly.
When Henry remained quiet, I peeked at him and found him watching me, chewing on his lip. I touched his lip so he wouldn’t make it bleed.

“Remember I told you that her brother is one of my best friends?” Henry spoke calmly but his eyes looked a little wild. “That we’d worked together every summer?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Well, he—Collin—he’s a freshman at CU. We sat together at the game and hung out afterwards. Brooke was with him.”

“So you and Brooke spent the day together,” I said. “While I was dropping my mom off at a recovery center—”

“What?” He sounded anguished. He inched closer and reached for my hands again. “I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry you’re going through this with her. This thing with Brooke is nothing, Meg.” His voice cracked when he said my name.

“How did Grayson know?”

“I told you he liked Brooke. He texted her and she told him where we were. She sent him a picture of us at the game.” He scooted me over and sat on the edge of the towel.

“I’ll show you the picture.” He took out his phone and found a picture of him, sitting comfortably in a stadium seat, next to a blonde. My throat caught when I saw his face in the photo—he looked happy. She looked smug as she leaned in close to him and used her phone to capture the moment. Their bodies seemed comfortable and familiar. They’d known each other most of their lives; they had unfinished business.

I pushed the phone away. “She likes you.”

He shook his head, but didn’t deny it. “I tried calling you but your phone was off. When you finally called me, we had more important things to talk about—like your brother.”

I stood up, cracking my head on the rock above us. “This is so stupid!” I took a deep breath and rubbed the sore spot on my head. “It’s making me feel like an eighth grader with a crush. I hate it!”

“What exactly do you hate?”

“That you have to explain something like this because some Neanderthal held it over your head.” I glanced at him and narrowed my eyes. “That Brooke still wants to pull your strings.”

I could’ve gone on and on, but only the truth mattered.

“My brother died because someone was jealous.”

H
enry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He stood, peeled off his shirt, and toed off the tennis shoes I didn’t know he owned. Finally, he took off his sweat pants. He stood, shivering a little, in shorts and held his hand out to me.

I’d never seen him bare-chested. For the first time, he seemed vulnerable to me. His smooth, tight skin wrapped around the long muscles he’d developed over a lifetime of hard work.

I swallowed hard and then copied him, taking off my sweats. When I finished dragging my sweatshirt over my head, Henry sucked in a breath and stepped close. I felt my face heat up because I assumed he was reacting to my near nudity. But his eyes were focused on my shoulder and his hand came up to gently touch me there.

“Did this happen today?”

I’d forgotten about the rising bruise from hitting the wall. I shook my head, but whispered, “Yes
.
”

Seeing Henry try to restrain himself was something. He swallowed hard. “I’m…I’m really sorry. I’ll talk to Grayson.”

I licked my dry lips. “No, it’s okay.” I took his hand and let him lead me to the hot spring. He eased in first, hissing from the heat of the water, then he reached for me. The water was deeper than I’d imagined.

He found a shallow spot and sat, settling me onto his lap, holding my back to his chest. I couldn’t stop shaking and it had nothing to do with the water or with being half-dressed in a cave with a boy.

“Nothing else matters,” Henry said in my ear. “I’m here. Start at the beginning.”

“Are you sure? Because there aren’t any pretty parts to this. It’s all horrible.”

“I’m sure.” His hand splayed out over my stomach, pressing gently.

“Wyatt loved a girl named Hannah,” I said. “I mean he really loved her. But it was from a distance, you know?”

Henry nodded his head against my cheek.

“Hannah had dated Matthew for a long time—a couple of years. She broke up with him a lot, but they always got back together.”

“Yeah,” Henry murmured. “I know couples like that here.”

“Wyatt didn’t really go out with anyone else because he just hoped she’d break up with Matthew one day for good.”

“Did she?” Henry’s breath was warmer than the steam on my shoulder.

I shrugged as goose bumps trailed down my arm. “Yes.”

“And Wyatt went for it?”

“Kind of,” I said. “He was so…cool but not when it came to girls. She made him nervous and he was working up to asking her out. Flirting. ‘Testing the waters,’ he told me.”

Henry chuckled. “I get that. Horse rides and picnics and camping. Some of us move slower than others.”

I tightened my hold on Henry’s arms that wrapped around my waist. “Matthew was
not
okay with the flirting. And, afterwards, we found out from his parents that he’d been in counseling since Hannah broke up with him. They were really worried about him. He hit her—pushed her around—when they were together. We didn’t know that until after.”

“Okay,” Henry said.

“He got a gun…his dad’s handgun.”

“Dear God.” Henry’s chest vibrated against my back.

“One morning, he came in before school started. He never did that. My friends and I all hung out in the commons, you know, on the couches before the first bell. Wyatt did, too.” I readied myself for the nausea that always came when I told this story. “He walked straight up to me and asked me if I’d seen Wyatt, and I pointed to my brother. I showed him right where Wyatt was, right next to Hannah. I pointed at them.”

I stopped talking to catch my breath, but the best I could do was a tight-throated wheeze and a whimper. I hadn’t even told the police I’d done that.

“It’s okay, Meg,” Henry whispered, his stomach muscles flexing under my back. “What happened then?”

“Um.” I closed my eyes and remembered. The smells always came to me first. I smelled Matthew’s sweat as he stood close to me, hiding something behind his back. “He yelled Hannah’s name. Wyatt and Hannah raised their heads and searched the room for who had called them. Hannah knew who to look for, though.” And I did feel very sorry for her because terror should never be mixed with love.

The smell of metal had seemed so out of place among the scents of the breakfast being served in the nearby cafeteria. “I saw Wyatt’s face and I knew what was happening. He stood and held his hands out like he would when he tried to calm a dog. I couldn’t move and no one else seemed to know what we knew.”

“Then what?” Henry said.

“Then Hannah screamed and everyone started running and I saw the gun. Wyatt lunged over people, trying to get to me, but Matthew didn’t want me.”

“He wanted Wyatt,” Henry whispered.

I nodded. “Wyatt used one arm to push me out of the way and the other arm to force Matthew down. But…”

“Matthew shot the gun?” Henry said.

“More than once. Several people fell down around me. I ran with the crowd.” The scene had been so horrible that I’d never talked about it, really, with anyone who hadn’t been there. No human being should have to hear friends gasping and grunting as they died. “I left Wyatt there.”