Skater Boy (10 page)

The light turns green and he pulls forward. We enter the East Oaks subdivision and I direct him to my house. My big, ugly mansion with its stupid front-yard light-up fountain. I've always thought it was pretty. Now I think it's horrible, ostentatious. Embarrassing.

Sean pulls up at the bottom of the driveway and kills the engine. He turns to me, taking my hand in his.

“I like you, Dawn,” he says, his voice calm and earnest. “Don't get me wrong. But I know the realities here better than you do.”

“Please don't do this,” I beg, all pride forgotten.

He sighs deeply. “Do you want me to come up and meet your parents? Right now?”

A stab of panicked fear punctures my heart. If he comes up now, my parents will know I've disobeyed and lied to them. Broken every one of their rules. And they'll hate Sean tenfold because of it. I want them to meet him. Badly. But not like this. He's never going to understand that, though. I break into fresh tears. He's going to take my “no” answer as a personal judgment against him and his family's bank account.

Sean nods knowingly. “I thought so,” he says slowly. “It's okay, Dawn. Stop crying. I get it.” He releases my hand. “Now go inside before you get in more trouble.”

I don't want to leave his truck because I know this good-bye is going to be forever. The cutest, nicest, most wonderful guy I've ever met and I've already lost him. All because of my parents. They really deserve the name The Evil Ones.

I swallow hard, trying to salvage some sort of pride. “Good-bye, Sean,” I say, forcing my eyes to meet his sad gaze. “I'll miss you.”

He leans over and gives me a small kiss on the cheek. His lips burn my tear-streaked skin. “Good-bye, Dawn,” he says.

And with that, I get out of the truck and slam the door behind me. He revs the engine and pulls away. I stare after his truck, pressing my fingers to my cheek. The cheek he just kissed good-bye.

Chapter Twelve

 

I open the front door to my house, desperately trying to mask how upset I am. I so don't want The Evil Ones to see me crying. They'll ask why and then I'll have to make up some stupid excuse.

“Dawn? Is that you?” asks my mother, lounging on her couch in our icy parlor. If she were Sean's mom, she'd probably get up from her seat to greet me. Wrap me in a warm hug and ask how my day was. But no; to my mother, I'm not even worthy of the calories it would take to stand up.

“Yeah, it's me,” I mumble as I start upstairs. I don't want to have to face them. Not with my blotchy, tear-stained face.

“What are you doing home? I thought you were at the library.”

I stop dead in my tracks. Shoot. I was so upset I forgot I was supposed to have Sean drop me off at the library, not home, to make my lie believable.

“I, um, took a cab home,” I fib. One good thing about having Sean break up with me is I can stop the web of lies. It's exhausting to keep track of them all.

“You took a cab?” Dad roars from his armchair. “Dawn, get in here. Now.”

Oh, freaking great. I back down the stairs and drag my feet into the parlor.

“What?” I ask defensively, even though I know exactly why he's pissed. I should have said one of the Ashleys dropped me home, as usual.

“You know very well what,” Dad rages. “We don't want you taking public transportation. It's dangerous. And anyway, you don't need to. We could have picked you up. All you had to do was call us.”

“What, you want to send a limo after me or something?” I yell back, unable to control myself. I'm already at my breaking point, and I'm so not ready to deal with his stupid public-transportation crap.

“What limo? What are you talking about?”

“Or, I know. Send poor Magda. You make her do everything else around here!”

My mother stares at me, disbelief written across her face. “She works here, Dawn. It's her job.”

“Yeah, well, did you ever consider her feelings? That maybe she doesn't
want
to slave away in the kitchen for ungrateful rich people and then have to go play chauffeur?”

“She's not a slave, Dawn. She chooses to work for us. And we pay her very well for her services,” Dad says.

“What is all this about?” my mother asks. “Has Magda said something to you?”

“I'm going to have a word with her,” Dad adds. “If she's unhappy here …”

“No. Wait. Magda didn't say anything,” I cry. Oh, great. On top of everything else, now I'm endangering Magda's job. I love Magda, no matter what Sean's family thinks, and I can't be the one who gets her fired. I think quickly. “I'm just … in history we're studying class differences in Regency England and I'm a little sensitive to the rights of the servant class right now.”

Wow, I pulled that one from my butt, huh? And just in the nick of time, too. I may not enjoy lying, but I'm darned good at it, if I do say so myself.

Dad settles back in his armchair, still looking a bit grouchy. “It's nice to see you caring about those less fortunate than you,” he says. “But how about channeling that noble energy into less dangerous ventures than taking cabs so your housekeeper can slack off? You can volunteer to do charity work, if you're interested. I'm sure it would look great on your Harvard application.”

Oh, yeah. Just what I need. More time suckage. Then again, now that I have no life once again, I'll probably have plenty of time to fit it in.

“Sure, yeah. Whatever,” I mutter. “I've got homework.” I turn out of the room and head upstairs. Whew. That was way too close. If they hadn't been distracted by the whole Magda thing, I'm sure they would have launched into a game of twenty questions about whether I was actually at the library.

I get to my room and slam the door shut. I hate them. Their little, pathetic, judgmental lives. How I'm forced to be one of them. Their captive prisoner.

They didn't even notice I'd so obviously been crying. Or if they did, they didn't bother to bring it up. Too busy yelling at me for breaking their stupid rules to ask if I'm okay.

You know, I can't wait ‘til my eighteenth birthday; the moment I blow out those birthday candles, I'm taking off. Never to be heard from again. I'll get some cool little apartment downtown and find a job, like a good, honest, hard-working person, and live a normal, happy life.

Like Sean.

I sigh as I crawl into my bed and absently twist my belly button ring as I stare at the ceiling. I miss him already.

The tears start flowing again and this time I don't bother to stop them. Why did things have to turn out like this? Just because of my stupid parents. And my grandparents who made all that money before them. I so didn't ask to be rich. I don't want to be. Especially not at this price.

I know I need to study for my Chemistry make-up test, but what's the use? Who cares whether I do well or not? Maybe if I flunk out of school, my parents will realize I'm not cut out for their perfect little Ivy League nightmare. That will teach them a lesson for trying to ruin my life. Maybe then they'll start leaving me alone.

I reach my arm out from under the covers to grab my purse. I pull out my cell phone and flip through Sean's old text messages. The ones I couldn't bear to delete. A lump forms in my throat as I read through each one. They're all I have left to remind me of our brief but wonderful relationship. I never even took any photos.

I toss the phone aside and curl up into the fetal position under the covers, wishing the pain would go away.

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

I wake up the next morning feeling like I've run a mental marathon. I could barely sleep and I'm exhausted. When I did pass out for a few brief moments, I had crazy dreams where Sean comes back, carrying a big bouquet of roses. Begs for my forgiveness. Says our parents' bank accounts don't matter. That he loves me and can't bear not to be with me forever and ever.

And then I'd wake up and realize it'd all been a dream. And that's when the tears would come, again and again. They say our bodies are made out of eighty percent water and I'm quite certain I bawled out at least sixty-five percent last night.

Thank goodness there's a rain storm and crew practice is canceled due to the lightning and thunder. I don't think I could have forced myself to expend the energy it would have taken. So I lie in bed a few extra moments and then get up to get dressed for school.

I should have called in sick. I feel sick. Sick with disappointment. In English class, I can't concentrate on anything the teacher is blabbing on about. Something about Hamlet's girlfriend Ophelia, going crazy and committing suicide ‘cause the selfish jerk dumped her.

Ophelia, I totally sympathize, girl.

I open my notebook and start writing. Poems start pouring out of me to the point that it's kind of scary. My pen can't even keep up with my ideas. Of course every one of them is about Sean in some direct or indirect way. About our doomed relationship, ended too soon.

At lunchtime I head to the caf and scan the room for Starr. I have to talk to her about Sean. She's the only one who's in on our relationship. The only one who will understand and maybe know what I should do.

But my punk-rock friend is nowhere to be seen. Weird. I head over to the table where she normally sits and greet Sophie and Stuart.

“Hi, guys,” I say with a friendly smile.

They look up, both regarding me with cool eyes. “Hi,” Stuart says, then pauses. “Um, what?” he asks, in a totally sarcastic Why Are You Here Bothering Us tone.

O
kay
, then.

“Uh, have you seen Starr?” I stammer. Why are they giving me the cold shoulder all of a sudden? After all, I was their hero earlier in the week, when I told off the Ashleys.

“Haven't you heard?” Sophie asks, her big green eyes wide and sad.

“Heard what?”

“Starr got expelled for showing up to school drunk,” Stuart butts in. “She's going to Woodbury from now on.”

My heart sinks. My world spins off its axis. I can't believe this is happening. Starr got expelled? She's going to public school? Why would she show up to school drunk?

“Oh, God. I have to talk to her,” I say, rummaging through my purse for my cell phone. “Make sure she's okay.”

“Her dad took away her phone,” Sophie adds. “And she's grounded for like eternity. No visitors.”

“That's not possible. I need to talk to her,” I cry.

“Sucks to be you, then,” Stuart says, digging back into his food. Sophie slaps him on the arm. “You're so rude,” she whispers, giggling. “Well, I mean, come on,” he whispers back.

“Uh? I'm still standing here,” I remind them, more than a bit ticked off. What is their problem?

They both look back up at me. “Oh, yeah. You are, aren't you,” Stuart notes in an ironic tone. “Though I don't understand why,
Barbie
.”

His words sting and I turn around and flee the table before they can see my tears. After all the Sean stuff, my nerves are already shot and their ridicule is really the last straw. I glance back to see the two of them giggling together.

Revenge of the nerds.

I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, looking around the caf. Okay, now what? Starr's gone. And Stuart and Sophie won't let me sit with them if she's not around.

Maybe the Ashleys will forgive me.

Swallowing hard, I walk over to the other side of the caf and find my three former best friends at their usual table. Except they're not alone.

 Some other random girl is sitting in my seat.

“Um, hi!” I cry as I approach them, forcing my voice to sound chipper. “How are you guys?”

All four girls look up, almost in sync, and regard me with perfectly shaped raised eyebrows.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Ashley #1 says, giving me the once-over.

Oh dear. This is not sounding good. I knew this would happen. Why did I even try? Do I have a humiliation wish or something today?

“So guys, I've got a great lunch poll,” I exclaim cheerfully, giving it one last shot. “If you had a thousand dollars and could only buy one purse, what would you choose?”

“My purse costs more than a thousand dollars,” sniffs Ashley #2.

“I know where
you'd
buy one, Dawn—a thrift store,” Ashley #3 snarks off. “Or maybe Salvation Army. ‘Cause you're like so alternative now.”

“Prada, definitely,” Ashley #1 chimes in. She's unable to help herself when it comes to fashion polls. The other two Ashleys turn and stare at her. “Uh, I mean,” she stammers, “your mother!”

Okay
, then. That made no sense. But I get the point loud and clear. I'm not going to be welcomed back into their fold.

“Whatever,” I say, sounding more confident and nasty than I feel. “I was going to give you guys another chance, but forget it.”

I storm away before they can respond. As soon as I leave the caf, I start running down the hall. Tears half blind me and my braids whip against my neck. I can feel people's stares and know I probably look like a possessed freak, but I don't care.

I reach the bathroom and enter a stall. I sit down, using the toilet as a chair. It's the only place I can think of that I can cry unobserved.

I'm such an idiot. Such an idiot. I threw away my best friends in the whole world to hang around with some stupid girl and get involved with some stupid guy and now both of them are gone and I'm left with nothing.

High school is going to suck from now on. I'll have no friends to hang out with. I won't be invited to anything cool. For the next two years I'm going to be a social leper.

Why, Dawn? Why did you get yourself into this mess?

I don't blame the Ashleys at all. I publicly dissed them. Called them losers. Skanks. After years of friendship, I blew them off like the top of a fluffy dandelion. They hadn't ever done anything wrong to me. Tricked me. Hurt me. Talked behind my back. (At least as far as I know.)