If I Was Your Girl (22 page)

“Right, right,” Parker said, “'cause he dumped you, I heard.”

“No,” I said, my stomach churning from shame and anger and pain. “I was never his boyfriend.”

“Well, what were you then?” he said. “'Cause you're not a girl.”

“Whatever, Parker,” I said through clenched teeth. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end and I felt the metallic edge of panic in my blood, but I kept walking.

“Aw, I didn't mean that,” Parker said. “I mean, sure, technically, no, you sure as hell ain't a girl, but you
look
like one at least.”

“Okay,” I said, swallowing and glancing at him again. I thought I saw a flash of reflected light from his eyes in the darkness. He laughed, suddenly and loudly, making me jump and catch my breath.

“Relax!” he said. “I'm just fuckin' with you. Now, hop in and lemme give you a ride.”

“Parker, please,” I said, “just keep driving. I don't want a ride.”

“Oh, you want a ride,” Parker said, and as my eyes readjusted to the darkness I saw he was smiling wide but his nostrils were flared and his eyebrows were knotting together. “You just don't want a ride from me.”

“I want to be left alone,” I said.

Another text from Dad bathed the inside of my bag in a blue glow for a moment and I remembered my phone. I pulled it out of my purse and tried to unlock it when the truck's engine suddenly died and Parker jumped out. His huge hand clamped over my wrist. I looked up at him, wide-eyed, and slowly dropped my phone back into my purse.

“That's better,” he said, letting go of my wrist. “Like hell you wanna be left alone. If you wanted to be left alone you'd've stayed a boy.”

“What are you doing?” I said.

“Walkin' with you,” he said, easily keeping pace with me, his shoulders hunched forward and his hands in his pockets. I smelled something sour and sterile wafting off him and realized he had been drinking. “It's dangerous out here. Don't worry though, I'll keep you safe.”

“Okay,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself and looking off into the darkness between the trees. His shadow stretched out past mine. I remembered Mom telling me how frightening men were, all men really, how helpless it often felt to be a woman among men, and for the first time I understood what she meant.

I reached into my bag again, my fingers curled around my phone, when the punch came. Something thudded against the side of my skull as the dark around me turned red and all the night sounds of the road were replaced by a ringing in my right ear. I stumbled like a drunk away from the road until I scraped my bare shoulder against a tree and clung to it. Parker was on me before I could fully grasp what had happened, his face inches from mine and his forearm braced against my throat, cutting off just enough of my oxygen that I started to gag and see stars.

“No,” Parker hissed, “that's not how this works. You made me look like a dickhead for months, and now you don't got Grant to look out for you. You don't get to play hard to get anymore.” I could barely hear him, and his features were blacked out by the bright headlights of his truck. I tried to speak but all that came out was a gagging sound. “You coulda had this the easy way. Now, let's see how close you are to the real thing.”

The sensation of his huge hands pulling up the hem of my dress brought me just far enough from my stupor to act. I let out a screaming croak and clawed at his face as I drove my knee into his crotch as hard as I could. He coughed loudly and went limp. I was still woozy and disoriented, but some animal part of my brain forced me to act. I lurched into the darkness and the underbrush, keeping one eye over my shoulder as I ran into the woods.

Parker stomped after me, snapping branches and growling my name. The dots in my eyes and the ringing in my ears made it impossible to figure out how near or far he was, but after a few minutes I heard the crunch of gravel again and the sweep of a new set of headlights followed by the sound of slamming car doors and female voices ahead.

I slowly, carefully, started creeping my way toward the road. I was about halfway there when my busted ankle slipped out from under me. I reached out to grab another branch for support, only to have it snap loudly as I cried out and fell to the wet ground.

“Found you!” Parker yelled. I tried to stand but he was bursting through the darkness in seconds, pouncing on me and pushing me down into the mud with a horrible, irresistible strength. I heard something rip as the left strap of my dress fell loose. I kicked and slapped at him but my feet couldn't get to him and he quickly pinned my wrists down by my head. He had just kicked my knees apart when I heard a metallic
click
from behind him.

“I knew you were a creep,” a girl's voice said. A beam of light landed on us, revealing Chloe's silhouette holding a rifle pointed at Parker's back.

Parker slowly stood. I scrambled backward until my head hit a tree trunk and pulled my knees to myself, gasping. Chloe led Parker away, leaving me in darkness again until a small hand grasped mine and pulled me up.

“Come on,” Anna said, her voice hushed.

We made it to the road, where I saw Parker standing with his hands pressed to his truck, his face red as tendons jumped in his jaw. Chloe stood vigilant behind him, her hunting rifle still raised, a look of absolute, dispassionate boredom on her face.

“We've got her,” I heard Layla say, sounding calm but with an undercurrent of panic. “I'll call you back.” I turned and saw her putting her phone away as she jogged over to us. She pulled me into a hug and I winced at a burning pain in my shoulder and ribs. “We were so worried!”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Grant texted us,” Layla said, leaning in to examine my face and making a pained expression.

“Yeah,” Anna said. “He said Parker'd called him once word started getting around. Said he sounded drunk, talkin' about helpin' Grant get revenge on you and putting you in your place.”

“Oh,” I said, pulling on the strap of my dress. I was shivering even though I didn't feel cold. I didn't feel much of anything. “That was nice of him.”

“Amanda?” Layla said, taking my hand and giving me a worried look. “You okay?”

“No,” I said, realizing for the first time just how badly I was shaking.

“Want us to call the police?” Anna said. I looked over my shoulder and saw Chloe watching me, both eyebrows raised.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Layla added.

“No,” I said.

The last thing I wanted was for a nurse to take pictures of me. The last thing I wanted was a night spent with police officers who had probably already heard about me by now, and wanted to ask questions about my private parts instead of about what had happened. I just wanted to forget everything about tonight. I wanted it to be over.

Chloe prodded Parker once with the rifle and barked for him to leave. He complied quickly, jumping into his truck and driving off into the night.

“If you say so,” Layla said. She was quiet for a moment, then looked right into my eyes. “What
can
we do?”

“Please just take me home,” I said.

 

29

I laid my head against the passenger window as Layla drove silently. The chilly glass was a relief on the throbbing skin where Parker's punch had landed. I closed my left eye—the right was already swelling shut—and willed myself through time. I wanted this car ride to be over. I wanted to skip the conversation with Dad and the bus ride back to Atlanta and Mom's worried looks and just be back in my room in Smyrna with the blackout curtains pulled tight.

“I owe you an apology,” Layla said. I glanced in her direction but didn't say anything. “I'm sorry we just stood there, in the gym.”

“It's okay,” I said. “I wouldn't know how to handle me if I were you.”

“That's not even it,” Layla said, shaking her head. “It's—”

“Don't lie to me, okay?” I said louder than I meant to, making a cutting motion with my hand. “Thanks for what you did with Parker, but you can stop pretending.”

“Amanda…”

“I'm a
freak
,” I said. Tears came but I wasn't sad. I thought maybe I was angry, but I didn't know who I was angry at. Grant, for not loving me. Parker, for what he had done. My dad for warning me, for being right. Myself maybe, for thinking I could ever be happy. “I'm a freak, and jerks like Parker are always going to want to see the freak show, as long as they know the truth about me.”

“Amanda!” Layla said. I sniffled and scowled at her, but the look she gave me withered my anger. “Don't you dare talk about my friend that way.” She reached out and grabbed my left hand with her right. I flinched at the touch but quickly accepted it. “The
truth
is that you're my friend, Amanda. You're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever known, inside and out.”

“Really?” I said, wiping my nose.

“Hell yeah,” Layla said. “I mean, I'm trying to picture what you must've been like before you became Amanda, and I can't even think of a way the Amanda I know could ever pull off being a boy.”

“I wasn't very good at it,” I said, a small smile twitching at my mouth. Layla smiled in return.

“Listen,” she said, after a short silence fell between us. “We love you no matter what.”

“I love you guys too.” I smiled, and my bruised temple throbbed painfully.

We pulled into my apartment complex. I thanked her again and started to get out, but she squeezed my hand and gave me a serious look.

“You don't have to go in,” she said. “You can come stay with me tonight.”

“No,” I said, taking my hand from hers and giving her a reassuring smile. “Thank you, but no. I'm feeling better.”

“Okay,” Layla said. “I'm gonna wait out here for half an hour though. If you feel like you need to be around friends, just come on out and we'll have a sleepover.”

I thanked Layla again and limped up the stairs, dreading the coming conversation with Dad. I reached our door and started to turn the knob when it was yanked open from within. Dad stood in the doorway, his shoulders squared and his expression full of worry.

“Oh my God,” he said, softly at first and then louder again as he looked me up and down. He pushed past me without saying anything and started stomping down the breezeway stairs.

“Wait,” I said, trying to follow him and nearly falling down the stairs on my twisted ankle. “Where are you going?”

“I'm gonna fucking kill him!” Dad said, a few seconds before his car door slammed and the engine kicked to life. I reached the parking lot just in time to see him speeding off into the night. Layla was already getting out of her car and walking over, her eyes wide.

“What was that?” she said.

“We have to go,” I said, limping past her to her car.

“Where's he going?”

“Grant's house,” I said, my hands shaking as I buckled myself in.

 

30

The car slipped in the mud as we careened down the canopied dirt road to Grant's trailer. I had my car door open before Layla could even bring the car to a stop. Dad's car was parked a few yards ahead, his headlights bathing the front of the trailer ghostly white. He was standing halfway in the driver's seat, his palm pressed on the horn without letting up. The chained-up dogs barked and howled madly trying to attack him, trying to escape, trying to get the noise to stop.

Grant appeared on the porch, his jacket gone and his tie loosened. He squared his shoulders as he strode purposefully down to the yard and over to Dad, who finally let go of the horn. I scrambled to get free of my seat belt and fell down in the mud beside the car.

“Dad!” I yelled. “Dad, please—”

“Go home!” Dad screamed, stepping away from the car and closing the distance between himself and Grant.

“I don't know what you think,” Grant said, raising both of his hands palms out, “but—”

Dad stepped forward, pivoted, and drove his fist into Grant's face with the kind of wild, berserk swing I couldn't have imagined he had in him. Grant made a sound like an airbag exploding and fell a few feet back, already bleeding from his nose.

“Listen close, son,” Dad growled. “You touch her again, or come near her, or talk to her, or so much as
look
at her, and I
will
put you in the goddamn ground.”

I made it to my feet and threw myself between them. Dad looked at me the same way he used to when I was four and I'd thrown a temper tantrum over something stupid, only now his eyes were rimmed red and I saw his nostrils flaring over and over. I heard the screen door slam and turned to see Grant's mom standing on the small porch in a nightgown.

“I'm gonna count to ten,” Ruby said, “and then I want you and your faggot son off my property or I call the cops.”

“Dad,” I said, tugging gently on his sleeve and trying to avoid looking at Grant, “come on.”

“One,” Grant's mom said.

“Dad,” I hissed. He shoved my hand away from his arm.

“Two,” she said through gritted teeth. “Three.”

“Get in the car,” Dad said finally, turning without looking at me. I followed him. Layla waved me down and gave me a wide-eyed look but I shook my head and got in the car with Dad. He jerked the gear stick like he was trying to choke it and pulled out onto the orange-glowing highway.

“It wasn't him,” I said after a moment, trying to shrink myself down as small as possible. “It was this other guy—”

“Goddamnit!” Dad said, pounding his other fist against the steering wheel. I pressed myself into the passenger door and stared at him, afraid to speak. “I told you. I
fucking
told you!”

“Dad,” I said. “Please. I'm sorry.”