Stronger than You Know (6 page)

NINE

More lists

I look down the list of reasons why I'm crazy. This list I keep in the back of my notebook, not in the front.

Can't talk to people.
But I'm totally getting better. I poise my pen to cross it out, but I can't. Not quite yet.

• Hides in her room.
  
• Can't function around the smell of cigarettes or beer.
  
• Is afraid of her own uncle for no particular reason.
  

I sat in the same room with him. I shared a bit of my past with him, and he saw my scars. I didn't freak out
or
have a panic attack. I cross him off the list, and the line through those words signifies so much stress and worry that's now slipped away.

Oh, wait. Panicking. That needs to be added to the list.

• Has panic attacks—set off by stupid things.
  

Okay, so one thing crossed off, one thing added.

These are not good stats.

I'm in the house alone, which rarely happens. Tara's staying after school, and Trent's hanging out with friends. I pull out the lunch I didn't eat in the cafeteria today and sit in the kitchen.

I hear the front door open and my body tenses up. Who is it?

A girl giggles. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just my cousin's here and she practically lives in her room.” Trent.

“Okay.”

I'm listening closely so I know where they are in the house and where I shouldn't be. What are they doing? Why does Trent want time alone with her? Why do these questions make my body shake?

“I really wanted to kiss you again,” Trent says.

The house is silent for a few moments.

“Follow me,” he whispers. Their shoes drop to the floor, and I think he's taken her into the den.

I'm trapped. There's no way to go upstairs without passing that room, and I really don't want to pass that room. What are they doing? Is he kissing her again? Are they doing more? Will they soon? I leave my lunch on the counter and start to slowly walk up the stairs. Maybe if I'm quiet enough, I'll be invisible too.

I stop when I see Trent and his girlfriend on the floor in front of the fire. They're still in their school uniforms, but he's on top of her, kissing her hard. My stomach knots up. I want to run, but I can't make my feet move. What's wrong with me?

Her arms go around his back, pulling him closer to her. I recognize her. Felicity, I think.

Her face turns to the side and our eyes catch.

I gasp and run up the stairs.

“Hey!” Trent yells. I startled him too. “Make some damn noise, would you? Or toughen up a little and tell me you're here when I come in the door!”

I pull my door closed behind me, breathing hard, and lean against it, as if it will somehow be more closed with my weight.

“My cousin. She's so weird. I'm sorry.” Trent.

“She just freaked me out, that's all.” Felicity.

“When she's upset she'll stay in there for hours.”

Felicity giggles, and I'm sure they pick up where they left off.

Why does it make me sick? No one's forcing me to do what he's doing to her. It doesn't matter if it's happening somewhere else in the house. Well, it
shouldn't
matter, anyway.

This should probably go on my list, but I don't want to add something to that right now. I'm trying to take things off, not put things on.

I put on the yoga pants Aunt Nicole bought for me, and sit on my bed. My backpack's downstairs, which sucks. I can't even get my homework done. But there's no way I'm going down there again.

For the first time, I contemplate taking a Xanax from my aunt's bathroom without talking to her, but I don't. Instead I curl up in my bed. Maybe I could sleep for a bit. I let my eyes fall closed, and drift off.

There are some thuds, bumps, and voices downstairs. Now I hear Aunt Nicole's footsteps. Hers are light, like Tara's, but she moves faster than Tara.

“Joy?”

I'm silent. I don't want to talk, to explain. I just want to sleep.

“Joy, I know your room is your room, but I'm worried about you so I'm going to open the door.” She cracks the door and peers in.

“Just come in.” I'd rather have her in here than talking in the hallway where everyone can hear.

“Why are you up here?” Aunt Nicole asks.

“Because I'm tired.” That seems safe enough. And I'm always up here. I'm not sure why today is different.

“You left a half-eaten lunch and your backpack downstairs.” Her head tilts to the side as she looks at me.

I don't answer. My lunch will lead to more questions.

“Did Trent do something? I think it was just you two here.”

I open my mouth once and nothing comes out. I open it again. “No.”

Her eyes narrow, just slightly. She doesn't believe me.

The thing is, he really didn't do anything. Just made me uncomfortable, which made me feel stupid. He yelled, but he and Tara yell at each other sometimes.

“Why did you still have your lunch from school?”

I don't answer.

“Joy.” She sits on the edge of my bed and I scoot away. “No, Joy. We're past this. Is you eating your lunch after school a normal thing?”

I nod.

“Why?”

I'm stupid. I
feel
stupid. Why do I have to be so worried about everything? All the time? I grab handfuls of blankets and rest my chin on my hands. “I don't know.”

The silence hurts—as if there are things unsaid I probably wouldn't want to hear.

“Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head.

“I brought your backpack.”

Relief spreads through my shoulders, relaxing me. I have my backpack. My homework. I can do it before everyone goes to sleep.

“I'll bring dinner up, but I'd rather see you downstairs.”

“Not tonight, please.”

She frowns as she stands up. “Okay. Is there anything else? Can we talk about anything else?”

“No.”

A few moments later, the door closes behind her.

I'm on the floor with my backpack in seconds. My math homework waits in the book. My reading for English is also in here. All these things I have control over. I can do them well. And I will.

“I hope you're happy!” Trent's voice carries down the hall. “Joy. I know you're listening. I'm in trouble and no one knows what for. I'm not buying your silent act one bit. It's old and it's tired!” His door slams and I hear Uncle Rob's feet on the stairs.

He doesn't knock on Trent's door, just goes in. I hear low angry voices paired with a few loud outbursts from Trent. I jump each time someone yells.

Perfect. Now Trent will hate me forever. I have to do something to fix this. I can't have Trent hate me. We live together. I force myself off the floor and open my door.

Uncle Rob steps out of Trent's room and our eyes catch.

“He didn't do anything. I promise. I'm still …”
crazy
.

Uncle Rob takes a step toward my room, but I close the door between us and release my breath. I did my part. Now I can hide and not feel guilty. Only I still do.

I'm in the narrow dingy-white hallway of my old house. The smell is the same. There's a man in my room. I can't see in, but I know he's there. Does he know I'm just outside the door? My hand is on the doorknob—when did that happen?

I slowly let go of it, but when I do, the knob clicks back into place. I didn't even realize I was opening the door. I hear movement in my room. Without thinking, I run. It doesn't matter that Mom freaks out when I go near the front door. It doesn't matter. I need to get away.

My legs push hard, only they're so weak. Like I've been tied down for days. Only I've never been tied down for days. Only held down long enough for things I couldn't escape.

His face appears. Richard. My legs push faster. My scream is stuck in my throat. Can I breathe? I try to suck in a breath. The hallway gets longer and longer, my legs get weaker and weaker. His beer breath, stubble, and belly are getting closer.

My body tries another scream. I definitely can't breathe. I'm running, but the hallway won't end. I'm almost to the door. Almost. I reach out. I jerk the door open. I'm free. But then I run straight into Trent who grabs my upper arms.

I find a breath to scream.

The sound rips from my lungs, startling me into sitting.

“Breathe, Joy.” Aunt Nicole rests a hand on my knee. I'm not sure when she came in.

I open my mouth to talk, but I have nothing to say.

“Let's flip your pillow over, okay?” she asks.

She always does this. She says it helped her kids when they were little. I let her do it because I know she wants to think she's doing something for me. But I don't know how flipping a pillow over could help with dreams.

I lie down to show her I'm okay. Even though I have no idea if I'm okay or not.

TEN

Better?

I reach for the front door to start my walk to school. I'm not going in the car because after yesterday and last night I'd rather not ride with Trent.

“Joy, wait. Trent wants to talk to you,” Aunt Nicole says from the kitchen.

In my limited experience, if Trent wanted to talk to me, Trent would be the one talking right now. Not his mom.

“I'm walking today. It's no big deal.”

“Joy.” Her voice is stern. Up until this moment, Aunt Nicole's pretty much let me do whatever I want. Mostly because I don't do anything. But I can tell by her tone this is different.

I shuffle into the kitchen.

She glares at Trent.

Trent's eyes shift to mine. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It's not a problem giving you a ride to school.”

I stand and stare, having no idea what I should do.

Aunt Nicole's eyes are on me next.

Right. Okay. I need to say something.

“Thanks. I like to walk, though.” My eyes float to Aunt Nicole's expectant face, Trent's annoyed one, and then to Tara's.

Tara gives me a grimace and a shrug of apology. “I'll walk with you, today.” She steps around me, and I follow her out the door.

“Well, that was awkward,” Tara says when we reach the end of the driveway.

I nod in agreement.

“Sorry about Trent. He's gotten worse this year. Thinks he's some big stud or something.” I can tell without looking that she's rolling her eyes.

I don't say anything.

“Does it bother you when I talk? Would you rather it just be quiet?” she asks.

“I like you talking.” Is that a good enough explanation? I find Tara interesting, and there's nothing I want to say.

“So, last year Trent dated this awesome girl named Caitlynn. We all adored her. They split just before this year, and he's sort of become … I don't know, but he's already gone through a couple girls. This girl, Kia, and I used to be really good friends, but now she's hanging with the same crowd as Trent, and, I mean, I like to go out once in a while, but it's like they can't get enough.”

Tara continues to talk. I soak her words up and realize that she's not having the best senior year. The tone of her voice is upbeat, but I can tell she's feeling separated from her friends, and her brother is letting it all happen.

Even though her problems are completely different than mine, I actually take comfort in the knowledge that even when someone's life looks pretty perfect, it really isn't.

We're watching a movie in Government, and every time I look up to see if Justin is watching me, he is. Just his eyes make my stomach and chest feel all light and tingly.

I glance over again. This time he isn't looking at me and I take in his features. He has a small bump on his nose, an angled chin, thin lips, and really smooth skin. His nearly black hair is kind of shaggy, and it looks soft. His lashes hit the hair that falls over his forehead. His eyes are kind like Uncle Rob's.

Justin turns and his smile spreads when our eyes meet again.

I look down at my lap. Now I feel bad about the inhaler thing. I've come a long way in a short amount of time, so I want to keep moving forward.

I lied.

I write it on a piece of paper and slip it onto Justin's desk.

His forehead wrinkles up and then he writes quickly, holding the paper out toward me.

About what?

I don't have asthma.

Just writing it makes me feel better because I needed to tell him.

Why would you lie about that?

Because I sometimes have trouble breathing.

Why?

Will the questions never stop coming?

I just … I sometimes think about things and it makes my lungs not work right.

Is that enough?

Like, panic attacks? My mom used to get those.

So, he kind of gets that part of me. And even though my breathing is shallow, I feel like I'm doing something new. That's cool.

Really?
I pass the note back.

He's smiling as he writes. That's good. That has to be good.

Yeah. It's pretty common, not that big of a deal, but she'd get them for no reason at all

I'm tons lighter. I mean, tons.

Don't say anything.

He chuckles under his breath as he writes.

How big of a jerk do you think I am?

I don't know yet.

I laugh a little as I send the note back to him.
Laugh
. A real one. Not one designed to make my aunt or cousins feel better, a real, honest laugh.

“Joy?” Our teacher. “Keep quiet back there.”

“Sorry.” Only I'm totally not sorry because it feels amazing to be talking like this.

Maybe you'd let me take you for a drive or something? So I can show you I'm not a jerk?

His face has softened, and his dark eyes watch me as I read.

He's asking me out. I stare at the paper and then over at him. He's smiling at me. My heart suddenly gets louder. What do I do in a car alone with him? My eyes slide over him again. I can ride in a car with Trent, and Trent's way bigger. But Trent's my cousin, and Justin is not my cousin. I suck in a deep breath.

Maybe.

I hand the paper back over.

His smile falters a little, and I feel the small, subtle movement of disappointment in my chest. I don't want him to feel bad.

He nods, looks at me, and mouths, “Okay.” He slumps back in his seat.

Our note-writing is over. I feel almost rejected, like he doesn't want to talk to me anymore. But that's silly, I told him no first. Well, not
no
.
Maybe
. Almost the same thing, right?

“Do you have the car today?” I whisper.

He nods.

“Maybe you could give me a ride home?” I can't believe those words just came out of my mouth. What am I thinking?

His smile is back. “Okay.”

I feel my mouth pull into a smile to match his.

This whole situation with Justin makes me feel this huge burst of hope. But then I remember Trent and his girlfriend in the den when he gave her a ride home. Is that what Justin will expect?

Why didn't I think of that before I asked? I can't get in his car if that's what he'll want. Can't.

It's raining hard when school is over, but I have my raincoat, so I'm good. The walk is short. I pull my hood up as I step out of the school.

“You're not trying to ditch me, are you?” Justin's voice behind me is tinged with laughter.

“I …”
I don't know what you'll expect from me if you give me a ride home
.

“You
are
…” He's still smiling. That's good. “Have you still not figured out how irresistible I am?”

“What?” Is he serious?

“I'm kidding, Joy.” He shakes his head.

“It's just …”

“All I want is to talk with you outside of class. Just a ride. I'll drop you off, and that's it.” He holds his hands out, palms up. “Promise.”

“That's it?” I'm leaning toward him I want to believe him so bad; there's just this other side of me that knows we're about to be in a car together, and I'm not sure that's a good idea.

“Yeah. Totally not a big deal. Just a ride.”

Okay. Totally no big deal. I can do this. Now I just need to say something. “Where's your car?”

“Come on.” He gestures toward the school lot with his head.

We walk together through the downpour to a sad, faded black car.

“So, this is it.” He opens the passenger door for me.

“Cool.” That feels like the right thing to say.

He chuckles. “Not so much, no. But it's what I could afford.” He closes the door behind me and gets in on his side.

I take in a deep breath. Okay, I'm okay. I'm in a car, alone with a boy. I try to take another breath and it's shaky. “I need my window down.”

He pauses. “It's cold outside. And raining.”

“Please?” I'd rather ask him for something crazy than hyperventilate.

The small car rattles as the engine warms up and I roll my window down. As insane as having the window down seems, or, I guess, as insane as it
is
, I have an escape so I feel okay in here. I'm
so
not putting
needs an open window
on my list of crazy things. I'm in the car. That counts for something.

“You're really quiet.”

“You're just now noticing?” Listen to me, teasing him and everything. I definitely need to call Lydia.

“No. We've been in school for two months, and it took me that long to ask you out, and then you sort of said no.” We're in a line of cars waiting to get out of the school parking lot.

“I said maybe,” I correct him.

“Why didn't you say yes?” he asks as he gives me a glance.

“I … I don't know.” Mostly because I'm still scared.

“It's cool we're talking though.”

“What?”

“I've just … I've wanted to talk since you came to school, but … I guess I'm a coward or something.” He smiles.

I'm not sure what to make of him yet. “Oh.”

The line inches forward, and Justin flips on the radio, tapping his steering wheel to the beat. I watch, envious at how relaxed he seems.

We finally pull out of the lot and onto the roadway.

“Wanna get a hot chocolate or a coffee or something on the way back?”

“Drive-through?” I ask. “Or …”

“Whichever.”

“Drive-through.”

“You got it.”

And I'm okay in here, because this is the only situation I have to worry about dealing with. Just me, in his car. Even crazy Joy can drink out of a cup in front of Justin.

Maybe I do have a chance at normal. Wouldn't that be something?