Until Today (3 page)

Chapter Five

The day just keeps getting worse. I have Ms. Jackson for English. She loves to assign last-minute essays on a Friday afternoon. Steph and I have separate lunch periods. My schedule lists a French history class I never registered for. To top things off, it seems the whole perky cheerleading squad is in my science class. Listening to them gush about tryouts and boys and breaking nails makes me feel like a freak because I couldn't care less about such things.

The only bright spot is that I'm on my way to work and hope to see Taylor again.

When I see the loneliness and fear in Taylor's eyes, I feel like I'm looking into a mirror. We seem to share a secret that keeps us separate from normal people.
Do I want to help her because I can't help myself?

On my way through the lobby, I think about my conversation with Scott and Steph. How could a man like Mr. Bradford get a job as a principal? How do people like him and Greg fool everybody?

I caught a glimpse of Taylor's brother, Darren, at school today. Darren and Taylor look nothing alike. He's tall and blond. Taylor is small and fragile-looking, with brown hair. From what I saw and heard from other people, Darren seems to be a loner.

“Hi, Kat, how was school today?” I look up, realizing I'm already at the nurses' station. I smile at Wanda, the nurse on duty.

“Not so great, Wanda. Is Dr. Williams around?”

Wanda nods. “She's here somewhere. She's been here since she was called in at three this morning. I don't know how she stays on her feet by the end of the day. If anything ever happened to one of my babies, I'd want her looking after them, for sure.”

“Yeah, she's a great doctor. How's Taylor doing today? Did everything go okay with her cast?”

Wanda's smile evaporates. She motions me back into the empty office behind the nurses' station. “She went home. Dr. Williams tried to keep her here, but Mrs. Bradford insisted on Taylor's release. She said Taylor didn't need to stay any longer.”

“Isn't there anything we can do?” I feel sick at the thought of Taylor being hurt again. Wanda was the nurse looking after Taylor, so I knew we could talk about the situation.

“Not really, Kat. Dr. Williams called and reported her suspicions. Their situation will be looked into, but if Taylor won't talk, there isn't much that can be done.”

“That sucks.”

Wanda nods. “We see it around here more than you might think, but so many of the kids are too scared to say anything.” Wanda sighs and looks at the patient registry in her hand.

“We had a few new children admitted last night. You could start with them and work your way around to the others that are still here.”

“Thanks, Wanda.” A heavy, hopeless feeling lodges in my chest.
Why won't Taylor tell us what's happening to her? Can't she see things would get better if she would tell us the truth? He would never be able to hurt her again. Get serious! I can't even bring myself to tell the truth about Greg. I'm as guilty as Taylor for letting him touch me and get away with it.

Amy is still at the house with Sarah when I get home from work. Working with the kids at the hospital has made me feel better. Then Amy mentions calling Greg to come pick her up.

“I'm sure Mom or Dad will give you a ride home when they get here.”

“That's okay, Kat. Greg dropped me off on his way to see a client. He won't mind coming back this way. He loves to see you and Sarah.”

“Where is Sarah?”

“She's in her room. She wanted to draw a picture of a princess for Greg. She's such a sweet little thing.” Amy picks up the phone and starts to dial.

I head to Sarah's room to see how her first day of school went. “Hey, Squirt, how was school?”

Sarah looks up from her paper and markers. “Great. I got Mrs. Finch. She's the best third grade teacher in the whole school. Dory and Kaly are in my class, too.”

“That's great, Sarah.”

“What about you?”

I stick my tongue out and make a face, scrunching up my nose and crossing my eyes. “Not so great.”

Sarah giggles, making me feel better than I have all day. Dropping on the bed beside her, I start to tickle her. We roll around, wrestling and tickling each other until we hear the front door open and a deep, male voice.

Sarah jumps off the bed. “Greg's here!” She runs out of the room before I can stop her.

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for the sight of Greg. I just have to stay away from him so he can't touch me.
Just keep my distance and don't end up alone with him.

What I see when I enter the kitchen makes me want to run to the bathroom and throw up. Sarah has jumped up into Greg's arms to give him a hug and has her legs wrapped around him. His arms and slimy hands are squeezing her, and Amy is standing there, smiling, as if everything is fine.

“Sarah, get down right now.” My voice sounds distant and strange to my ears. I'm vaguely aware of Amy staring at me oddly, but my focus remains on Sarah, who is still in Greg's arms.

“Sarah, get down,” I repeat.

Sarah turns and glares at me. I release the breath I'm holding when her feet touch the floor, and she moves away from Greg. She stops in front of me and shakes her finger. “You're not the boss. You can't tell me what to do. I'm telling Daddy when he gets home.” She runs down the hall. The slam of her bedroom door echoes through the house.

“Kat, that was uncalled for,” Amy says, staring at me with a surprised expression.

Greg's eyes narrow, like a predator ready to pounce on his victim. It's the same look he has when I tell him I don't want him to touch me. His eyes always gleam smugly with the knowledge that he's bigger and stronger, leaving me with no choice. He seems to grow taller as he stands there, his shadow swallowing me, leaving me helpless.

His expression changes within a split second when Amy turns around to look at him. Breathing heavily, I back up a few steps, trying to put more distance between us.

“What's with you two?” Amy looks back and forth between us.

Greg shrugs. “You have a tough day at school, Kiddo?” He looks at me with a smug, can't-beat-me smile. I deflate like a balloon, all of my strength disappearing. He's right. I can't beat him.

“Guess so,” I mumble and look at Amy. “Thanks for watching Sarah, Amy. See you around.” I purposely avoid looking at Greg and walk to my bedroom, forcing myself not to run like the terrified victim he's created.

I sit on my bed and stare out the window at the blue sky, waiting for the sound of the front door to close behind them. Feeling lost and frightened sucks. I hate it. I don't want to feel like this anymore.

I used to convince myself it was all a dream. When he touched me and made me lie on this very bed, I could often push it from my mind as if it wasn't happening. When the creepy feeling of his hands on my skin bothered me, I'd tell myself that it was okay because I was his special girl, and he loved me. I often wondered why I wasn't special to my father. Why didn't he ever say nice things like Greg did?

When did I start feeling more uncomfortable and realize that what Greg was doing and saying to me was wrong? When did I start avoiding him? The last few years, I've struggled with acknowledging what is truly happening and what to do. I hate myself for not being able to stop him.

“Kat, are you in there?” Startled at the sound of my mother's voice, I nod stupidly as if she can see me through the closed door.

“Kat?” my mother repeats.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

My mom walks in, still in her brand-new back-to-school skirt and jacket. She has to be the best-dressed teacher I've ever seen. Most teachers I know dress casually, but I don't remember ever seeing Mom leave for work in a pair of pants.

The mattress shifts as she sits beside me. Tracing the swirling pattern on my comforter with my finger, I remember the scene from this morning. Scenes like that have been occurring more frequently between my parents and me, especially with my father. When Jared is around, he buffers the arguments, but he's not here now.

I'm so angry and frustrated with them sometimes. At other times I regret every horrible thing I've said and wish they'd hold me close, like they did when I was little.

“How was school, Kat?”

“Okay.” It's easier to just tell her what she wants to hear.

“Great.”

An awkward silence falls between us.

Sighing, I realize Mom is providing me with the opening to smooth things over after this morning's argument. After the confrontation about Greg, I want to curl up on her lap, like I did as a kid. As if sensing my mood, she reaches over and puts her arm around me. Her warmth chases some of the chill from my heart. I'm safe for the moment.

“How was school for you?” I ask her, realizing that I really do care about her day. “How was the new principal?”

“Better than I thought. The principal is nice, and so far my class is behaving. But I can already tell that I have a few troublemakers.”

Curious after my conversation with Steph and Scott, I decide to find out more.

“Is the principal the new guy in town – Mr. Bradford?”

“Yeah. Do you know him?”

I shake my head, trying to figure out how to say something without intruding on Taylor's privacy. “I met his daughter. His wife seems kind of weird.”

“He asked about my family. When I told him you volunteer at the hospital, he mentioned his little girl was hospitalized after a bad fall. Is that where you met her? Tyler, isn't it?”

“Taylor. And yeah, she was there when I was working.”

We're both silent for a moment. I want to find out more, without giving my aunt's suspicions and actions away.

“Mom, I heard some funny rumors about their family at school.” I cross my fingers behind my back for the little white lie I'm telling. “Do you think it's possible for him to be hurting his daughter?”

“Hogwash. He's a nice man and he was very concerned about his little girl. People around here thrive on gossip, especially when it has to do with newcomers or strangers in town.”

“Kat!” Dad bellows from the kitchen. It doesn't sound like he came home happy.

Flinching, I mumble, “I just can't please him, anymore.”

“Now Kat, that's not true. Dad's just under a lot of pressure at work and he misses Jared.”

I jump off the bed and run out of the room when he shouts my name for the second time. The longer he's kept waiting, the worse it'll be.

Sarah, with red, swollen eyes, is standing beside Dad. His arm is draped cozily over her shoulder.
The little tattletale!
Squaring my shoulders, I look into his eyes and wait for the fireworks to start.

I don't have to wait long.

“What's wrong with you? Greg and Amy are our friends. Why would you yell at Sarah for hugging Greg and tell her to get away?” I open my mouth to speak, but Dad isn't finished yet.

“That's not how we treat friends in this house. That's not how you treat your sister, either. If you're going to come home with an attitude every night, you can just march that attitude right to your room and stay there.”

I'm prevented from answering once again as Dad continues his tirade.

“I don't know where we've gone wrong with you, Katrine. We've never had these problems with your brother. Greg is right about teenage girls.”

The why-can't-you-be-like-your-brother speech is something I don't feel the need to hear again, especially after hearing Dad referring to Greg being right about anything related to teenage girls – me in particular. I turn and storm toward my room.

“Katrine, come back here. Do
not
turn your back on me!”

Mom appears, like a guardian angel swooping down to save me. She pats me on the shoulder and motions with her eyes for me to keep going. It's been a while since she's stepped in to help me with Dad.

Mom's soft but firm voice follows me down the hall. “David, she's had enough. Why don't we…” I close my bedroom door, blocking the voices in the kitchen.

Jared. My father compares everything I do to Jared. I used to be jealous when Dad would compare me to my brother. Strangely enough, it's Jared who helped me through that. His jokes and imitations of Dad would eventually bring a small smile to my face, no matter how upset Dad had made me. In no time at all, Jared would have me rolling on my bed, clutching my sides and laughing until I ran to the bathroom to pee. Jared doesn't like being Dad's pet, and this was his way of making it up to me. He tried telling Dad to lay off once, but that didn't go well.

Missing my brother, I reach for my phone and dial his number. One little joke from him could help me forget this whole rotten day.

“Hello?” A strange voice answers.

“Hi, is Jared there?”

“Who?”

“Jared. Jared Thompson.”

“Hold on.” I flinch when the guy at the other end yells for Jared. The least he could do is cover the receiver.

“Nope. He's not around.”

A girl giggles in the background and somebody turns the music up louder.

“Could you ask him to call Kat?”

“Sure, Nat. No problem.” The dial tone sounds before I can correct him.

It's doubtful that Jared will get his message.

Chapter Six

Friday, September 8.

This week sucks. True, it did get better after that horrible first day of school. It still sucks, though. I'm glad it's Friday!

I dropped that stupid French history class. The guidance counsellor swears I signed up for it and I swear I didn't. I signed up for creative writing instead. That should be cool.

They changed my schedule around for the writing class so now I have lunch period with Steph and Scott again. I'm starting to think that isn't so great. All Steph wants to do is talk about guys. I don't know what she sees in them - they're nothing but trouble. I'm sick of acting interested in her chatter. Her latest crush is some guy named Mike, who hangs out with a bunch of thugs. Talk about jerk alert! She sits in the cafeteria staring at him with her lame, puppy eyes.

Steph and I have always been able to talk about anything until lately. All she talks about now is boys, fancy clothes, and makeup. It bugs me that I'm feeling this way. She's been my best friend forever.

Scott seems to avoid us a lot. He sometimes sits with a few other guys from his biology class. I caught him looking at me kind of funny a few times. I don't know what's up with him. He's different lately, as if he's uncomfortable being around us sometimes. He is often irritable and snaps at us. I miss the way things used to be.

What's happening to me? Things keep changing that shouldn't. I don't understand why good things change, but bad things never go away.

No word on Taylor. She just dropped off the face of the earth. I hope she's okay. I just wish somebody could help her. Everybody seems to think Mr. Bradford is so great. Everybody seems to think Greg is so great too, and I'm the only one who knows that's not true.

No word from Jared. Who knows if he even got my message? I tried again last night, but nobody picked up. He's disappeared too.

It's too bad Greg won't disappear that easily!

“Kat, are you out here?” Mom yells from the backyard.

I glance at my watch and realize it's getting late. Stretching, I try to work the stiffness out of my muscles. I've been sitting scrunched up at the small table in the clubhouse too long.

Mom and Amy must be ready to go. They're doing a girl's night out – dinner and a show. Mom is already stressed over her class at school, so Amy has made it her mission to calm her down. That's something Dad has never been very good at.

If anybody were to ask me, which will never happen, I'd say that Mom is more stressed about not hearing from Jared. Dad asks every night at the supper table if anybody has heard from his “University Boy.” Mom fidgets, says no, and mentions she's worried. Dad shrugs it off and says that he must be having fun.

Carefully replacing my journal behind the milk crates, I leave the clubhouse. Mom is standing at the back door of our house, the cordless phone in her hand.

“Steph wants to talk to you,” she says, giving me the phone.

“Thanks.” I walk back to the wooden swing that hangs from an old oak tree along the edge of our backyard. It's been there since I turned three. The bright red paint peeled off long ago. The wood is gray and weathered from the sun.

Dangling my legs and swaying back and forth on the swing, I turn off the hold button.

“Hey, what's up?” I ask.

“Why aren't you answering your cell? Forget it. Guess what!”

No “hi” or “how are you” or anything. Just a breathless “guess what.” It must have something to do with Mike.

“Hi to you too,” I reply.

“Come on Kat, I don't have much time.”

“I give, Steph. What?”

“You'll never guess who called. Go ahead, guess.”

For somebody who doesn't have much time, Steph is being pretty dramatic. Trying to put as much enthusiasm into my voice as possible, I make my guess. “Mike?”

Steph squeals so loud on the other end, I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

“He asked me out, Kat. Can you believe it? Maybe he caught those vibes I was sending him in the cafeteria all week.”

“I doubt it. I think he just has a thing for puppy dogs and noticed your sappy stare.” I struggle to hide my sarcasm, trying to keep my voice light and teasing.

Steph giggles. “Whatever, it doesn't matter. He called. I felt so stupid. I didn't know what to say to him on the phone. But he still asked me out.”

I can see Steph doing a happy dance around her bedroom. “That's great,” I reply, trying to be happy for her.

“I couldn't believe it when he asked me what I'm doing tonight. He wants to go to that party we heard about all week. It'll mainly be seniors.”

The familiar burning in the back of my throat keeps me from replying at first. Steph knows this week has been difficult for me, and she promised to come over tonight for a movie and sleepover. I've been looking forward to it and had even hoped it would help some of the strain I've been feeling between us lately.

“Kat, are you still there?”

“Yeah.” My voice sounds croaky.

“Kat, I'm sorry. I know I promised to come over but—”

“It's okay, Steph.” I cut her off before we both feel awkward over her cancelling. “You go ahead. Have fun tonight. I'm kind of beat, anyway. I'd probably be a drag and fall asleep early.”

Steph's laugh sounds forced. “You're the best, Kat. Why don't you come to the party? Mike knows a lot of people who will be there. I could use your company. I won't know anybody.”

The thought of tagging along on Steph's date to a house full of drunken seniors doesn't sound appealing.

“Nope, count me out. I'm turning in early.”

“Are you sure?” She doesn't even wait for my answer before continuing. “I better go. I have to find something to wear.”

“Yeah, you wouldn't want my help there,” I reply, trying to break the ice.

Steph laughs and hangs up.

The dial tone drones in my ear, while I sway gently on the swing. Just like that she's gone, and I'm spending Friday night alone. Not feeling up to spending the evening with Dad or Sarah, I put the phone in my pocket and walk past the clubhouse to the river.

The breeze carries the smell of diesel fuel from the Thomas farm on the other side of the woods. A squirrel scampers by
me with a cheek full of nuts and who knows what else for its winter collection. I step to the side to stay out of its path, careful to avoid any patches of poison ivy. Jared and I learned about poison ivy the hard way one summer.

The smell of wet moss greets me as I emerge from the trees and stop on the riverbank, careful not to slip on the rocks. Sometimes, when the water level is low and it hasn't rained for awhile, you can see to the river bottom where the carp sunbathe. The water is dark and murky today, hiding any fish that may be watching me below the surface.

Thinking of Steph again, I throw a stone sideways and watch it skip across the water. The skips match the rhythm of the words that repeat in my head.
I can't believe she did that.
She just dropped me for some guy. Some best friend she is. So much for loyalty and all that crap. One stupid phone call and some guy she barely knows is more important to her than me. Why did I let her off the hook so easy? Why didn't I tell her how hurt I feel? Before I know it I'm crying.

Because I don't deserve any better.

The river is quiet. The ripples from the stone spread across the water and disappear, as if they never existed. The stone is gone, swallowed up, never to be seen again. My arm is suspended in the air, another stone held tightly between my fingers.

What if I just disappeared like that? Would anybody care?

The river water becomes darker, and my head spins. The
pictures come fast and furious. Greg is standing over me, pulling
his zipper up. I'm seven years old again, staring at him with a mixture of fear and blind adoration.

“You're a very special girl. Nobody else loves you the way I do. You understand that, don't you?”

I nod, believing every word. He loves me. He wouldn't lie.

“That's my Kitty Kat.” Greg rubs my cheek with his hand. “You can't trust anyone like you can me – especially your daddy. He'll be angry and think you're bad if he finds out about our special love. He wouldn't want you anymore.”

My naïve heart breaks at Greg's words. My world is shattered by the perceived betrayal of my father.

The picture of Greg fades when the stone falls out of my hand with a sudden plop. I try to climb back into the present. I shiver at how real the scene felt and turn, half expecting to see Greg standing there beside me.

“Get a grip,” I whisper, in an effort to shake off the eerie feeling. It's like being haunted by myself as a child. The memories flood back and trap me when I least expect them.

Even after Greg told me so many times when I was growing up that no one would like me if I told, I never really believed I could lose Jared or Steph. I've always been able to depend on them, but lately they haven't been there for me.

You're weak and worthless.

Staring at the water where the last stone sank to the bottom, I wonder why I'm here. Why was I put on this earth? The only one who seems to care about me is Greg.
Could it be that I was put here for Greg? No! What he's doing to me can't be right.

I launch another stone with all the force I can muster. The plop it makes, breaking through the water and sinking to the bottom, is gratifying. I had complete control over the stone before throwing it and it felt good. If only I had some control over my own life.

A twig snapping behind me breaks into my thoughts. Spinning around, I look into Steph's face.

“Hey,” she says, a bit sheepishly, lowering her eyes to look at the ground.

“Don't you have a hot and heavy date?” I reply, failing to hide the sarcasm in my voice. She's wearing a short, tight skirt and shirt. Every hair on her head is neatly arranged and cemented with hair spray so it won't move.

Steph shrugs and looks up at me. “Yeah, I do.”

My hands fidget, but I don't try to stop them.
Let her see that I'm upset
.

“I was hoping you'd change your mind. I'd really like you to come to the party. It wouldn't be any fun without you.”

I start to thaw. Does she still need me? Then I recall our phone conversation and how quickly she ditched me for Mike, and the warm feeling fades.

“I don't think so, Steph. It's not my thing.” I turn back to the river, pick up another stone and throw it, watching it skip across the surface before joining its friends on the bottom.

“Please, Kat. I'm…well, I'm nervous and scared.”

I skip another stone.

“You always were great at that,” she says.

The corners of my mouth tilt slightly. I couldn't hit a baseball to save my life, and I fell all over the soccer field when Jared and Scott tried to teach me to play. Give me a stone, though, and I could beat them all. Jared, Scott, and even Steph would practice by the hour to beat my record of eighteen skips, but none of them ever came close.

The grass rustles behind me and Steph's voice seems closer. “Please, Kat. You're my best friend. I need you.”

Gads. I needed to hear those words. The sweet sound of them softens my resolve to avoid the party.

“Besides,” Steph continues, “I'm sure you don't want to watch hockey with your dad and Greg tonight.”

Confused, I turn to face Steph. “What'd you say? Greg's here?”

“Yeah, your mom and Amy were leaving when I walked over. Greg and your dad are here with Sarah, watching hockey. A night of male testosterone – yuck! Poor Sarah.”

I should have known Greg would come with Amy. My desire to avoid him is far stronger than my dislike of going to the party.

“I suppose somebody has to make sure you behave,” I say, shrugging and turning away from the river.

How bad could the party be?