Because of You Page 18

  She takes a deep breath. “Fine, then let me take care of you.” She pulls the blanket so that it’s totally covering me. “I’m going to get a wet washcloth.” I see her scrutinize my face, my hands.

  The worst is my head though. It’s pounding. I do as she says and sit. I’m too tired to do anything else. Seconds after she leaves, my cell phone chimes. It’s from Kyle.

  Practice tomorrow?

  My hands are shaking so hard I can barely text. Yes.

  Evan did say we could continue to practice. I’ll keep the texting and the talking brief. But I need an excuse for the swollen lip and my bleeding hands. I need one for Gina and Kyle.

  There’s a text from Kyle: Sorry about earlier. Maybe we should leave the past in the past. Focus on the present?

  A smile tries to form on my mouth, but it hurts too much. I don’t know if that’s possible. I’ll see you tomorrow at 5pm for practice, I text back.

  Unless… you want to come over tonight.

  At his implications, my thighs burn. I can’t. I have loads of homework. Ms. Spears is a bitch. I’m about to hit send. At the last minute I add: She’s fond of you. Seems to know a lot about you.

  She is a bitch, and whatever she thinks she knows about me isn’t true.

  Because I can’t see his face, I feel brave. She told me she knows, knows you. After I hit send I wonder if talking to him like this is wise. What if Evan is around? My lips start to tremble. I quickly type: Hey, never mind. Also, I don’t think I can meet the rest of this week. After vacation. K.

  I turn off my phone.

  Gina walks back in with the washcloth and presses it gently to my lip. “Who did this to you, Maddie?” She asks the question quietly, her eyes trained on my bloodied lip.

  “N-no one. I fell coming home from the library. I was running and I tripped over a rock. Fell to my knees, hit my hands on the pavement, and c-cracked my lip.” The lie sounds feasible.

  Gina looks at me like she’s waiting for my nose to grow. It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me.

  “It wasn’t Kinky Kyle, was it? Because if it was, I swear I’ll kick—”

  I shake my head ferociously. “No. Most definitely not.”

  “Who, then?” She’s looking at me like she’ll pounce if I try to lie again.

  I’m not sure what to do. I need to talk to someone. I want to talk to her, but I can’t put her in danger. Gina seems to sense my trepidation. “I know I’ve been out of it lately. Collin and…other stuff has been taking up a lot of time, but you can talk to me. I’m your friend.” She pats my hands, and I flinch. “Sorry. You’re a mess.”

  I nod, forcing back the tears that are threatening. “I promise Kyle didn’t do this. He’s been amazing. It’s just…I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure I can look past what happened—with my mom and dad.”

  She scoots closer. “You mean with his father?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Well, I’ll support you no matter what.” She brushes some hair from my face and rubs my back. “You should shower. Get cleaned up. When you get back we can talk about happier things, like me and Collin. Collin and me, and all the fun we’re having. ‘Kay?” She laughs, and I have to smile.

  “Okay.”

  A shower helps. I change into sweats and a tank, but I’m freezing. Kyle’s red sweatshirt is still on the floor with the rest of my clothes. I pick it up and throw it on. Gina hands me two small, cream-colored pills.

  “What are these?”

  “Pain medication. They’ll help you feel a million times better.”

  I pop them both and fluff up my pillows. Gina lies next to me.

  “Tell me about Collin,” I say. Anything to take my mind off the recurring scene playing in my head—the one of Evan hurting me, telling lies.

  I feel her face light up. “You’ve seen that he’s hot. I’ve already told you he’s a god in bed. But it’s more. I like talking to him. He’s hilarious.” She rolls onto her side. “I actually like spending time with him when I’m sober. Even kissing him.”

  My eyes widen in mock surprise. “Wow! That’s awesome. He must be great.”

  “Exactly,” she begins, tucking her hands behind her head. “And the feeling seems to be mutual. I mean sure we get high together sometimes…” She picks at a thread. “We’re having fun together.”

  The idea of her doing drugs freaks me out, but I console myself that at least Collin is keeping her safe. I hope. “What about Thanksgiving break? Are you going to spend time with his family?”

  She gives me a hateful glare. “No way. I met his mother once already, and she’s a total hag. Snooty. Pompous. You should’ve seen her shoes.”

  I let out a soft chuckle. If she only knew how much stock I put into a person’s shoes. “So what are you going to do?”

  She swallows, clears her throat. “Probably hang around here. Collin still has to go home for a few days.”

  I turn to her. “Want to come to my aunt and uncle’s? It’ll probably be boring, but my aunt makes the best stuffing ever. We watch TV. Hopefully it’ll snow. If it does, we can go snowmobiling.”

  Gina sniffles. “I would love to,” she says, and wipes at the edges of her eyes.

  “Then it’s settled.”

  Someone pounds on the door. My first thought is to be afraid. What if it’s Evan? I sit up and feel woozy. Whatever Gina gave me has made my head light, like it’s floating above my body. “Whoa,” I say, climbing off the bed.

  Gina laughs and pushes me so I fall into my cozy comforter. “Stay. I’ll get it.”

  I lay back, fluff my pillow, and close my eyes. Everything feels so wonderful. The pillow feels better than it’s ever felt. And the covers. And my body? If only I could feel like this every moment of every day.

  Evan and his stupid threats seem less scary. Less impressive. If he thinks he can hurt my family he has another thing coming. And there’s no way he can keep me from Kyle.

  I’m bulletproof, I think, rolling to the edge of the bed so I can get up. But it’s too hard. I don’t want to stand, don’t want to move, breathe… if I hold super still, maybe life will realize how unimportant I am and go quietly on.

  “What the hell happened to her? Did she get into a fight?” I feel him touch my face, my lips, and my hands.

  It’s Kyle. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. “Kyle. Hi.” I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. My lids are too heavy. There’s pressure. He scoots my body toward the middle of the bed and sits.

  “She told me she fell. I thought maybe you did it.”

  “Me?” he asks, incredulous.

  “Hey, I trust guys about as far as I can throw them. And I know her past, what happened. What she saw. I was worried she might have told you and maybe you got mad. I could understand, even if I’d have to kick your ass if you hurt her.”

  “She told you?” he asks softly.

  “Yeah.”

  There’s quiet for a few minutes, and I try to open my eyes. He’s still sitting beside me. I can feel him. Hear the beat of his heart. He’s so close.

  I reach out to him. Feel his perfect arms. “You’re so warm. I love you, Kyle. Always have.”

  I hear Gina giggle.

  Kyle’s heart speeds up. “So why can’t we practice our duet together?”

  I knead his fingers between mine. “Because I love you, love my aunt and uncle… I have to keep you safe.”

  “What does she mean?” Kyle asks.

  “I have no idea, but maybe you should leave her be. I gave her two painkillers, which was obviously one too many.”

  “Take care of her. I won’t be long.” I feel his lips gently press against mine. Then I feel his body leave the bed, and I let out a moan.

  “Don’t go. I-I need you.”

  He presses a hand to my cheek. “I’ll be back.” He rifles around on the bed. “And keep your damn phone on.” I hear the frustration in his voice.

  Maddie

  hen I wake the next morning, my he
ad is pounding like pots and pans on New Year’s Day. I throw off the covers and climb out of bed. Today I’ll make it to all my classes.

  Gina is still in bed. I’m not sure whether to wake her or not. She rolls over and says, “I’m up. I’ve been up all night. You wouldn’t stop snoring. I almost choked you to death in your sleep.”

  I smirk. “Sorry, Gina.” I grab a water bottle, twist it open, and chug it down.

  “Hey, that’s my water. Crook. You owe me a dollar.” She jumps out of bed and grabs her shower bag. “You gonna make it? You look like hell.”

  “Gee. Thanks.” I touch my lip. It’s sore. “I have to.”

  “You sure? Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

  “Not if you want to continue to be my fried,” I say, only half-kidding.

  She sighs, making it obvious she’s irritated. “Fine. I’ll see ya in class.” She takes off to the bathroom.

  I finish the water and toss the bottle in the trash. My head still feels like it’s going to split in two. I touch the back of my head where it hit the pavement and flinch. There’s a large goose egg.

  My whole body is tender. When I change out of my sweats, I notice bruises on both knees. My hands feel swollen. In the bathroom I see my lip is split and puffy.

  The idea that Evan did this to me is irritating. Frustrating. Pull-my-hair-out aggravating. I never would’ve guessed he could be such a jerk. And that’s not even the proper word. He’s worse than that. He’s the epitome of evil. Maybe the trait comes from the roots of the family tree. It’s part of his DNA, as unchangeable as the sun crossing the sky. There’s something off about Evan’s dad. I noticed it right away. Kyle and Evan’s dad were brothers. I wonder how they were raised.

  Except Kyle, I think, and sigh. He seems really good.

  I whip my hair into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and apply lip-gloss, hoping the sheen will mask some of the puffiness. It doesn’t, but it’s the best I can do. My goal is to get through this week. Finish all of my assignments, or as many as possible.

  Four more days. Then my aunt and uncle will come and get me, and I can talk to them about Evan. Tell them the threats he made and the things he said about my mom and dad. I hope my aunt and uncle will tell me the truth. Then I remember I invited Gina to stay with us. If she comes, a family discussion might be tricky.

  Four more days, I tell myself, and head to class.

  In English, Ms. Spears gives me a knowing sneer. I want to rip her lips off. Gina notices and raises an eyebrow.

  “What’s up with Bitchy Spears?” Gina winks. I shake my head as though I have no idea.

  But I do have an idea. She’s rubbing it in my face that she and Kyle slept together, and I don’t like it. As if on cue, Kyle stands. He’s passing back our assignment from last week. What if my grade sucks? I think back on what I wrote and cringe.

  Bitchy Spears speaks. “Mr. Hadley is passing out the information for your final paper. This is the only copy you’ll receive, so keep it safe. The final will be a third of your grade, so made it great. Wow me, people.” She proceeds to spend the next hour discussing the different thematic elements in some movie I’ve never heard of. All I want to do is fall asleep. But I don’t. I stay awake and focus. Until my phone vibrates against my leg. For once I’m grateful for stadium seating, and for being in the back row. I casually hide behind Troy, the tall guy with the basketball, the one who ran me over the first day of school. He’s on scholarship for the basketball team, and it’s obvious he’s into the sport. He seems nice. Hails from Las Vegas.

  I check my cell. The text is from Kyle.

  Glad to see you’re okay. Want to talk?

  I do want to talk to him, more than anything, but I can’t. Not with Evan lurking about. He said he would hurt my aunt and uncle, and after the way he pushed me around last night, I’m inclined to believe him.

  I text back. I’m fine.

  You say that, but I don’t believe you. Besides, it isn’t nice to lie to the guy you love.

  I’m shocked. Why would he say that?

  What? I text.

  Yeah, don’t deny it. You love me, and you want me. Accept it, Freckles.

  ?????? I remember saying the words to him. I realize they’re true. So true. Damn Gina and her stupid pain pills.

  I look over at her and frown. She lifts her shoulders. “What?” she mouths.

  I shake my head.

  My phone vibrates. I’m watching you, Pudgy.

  I gasp. I know exactly who sent me the text, and it sure as hell wasn’t Kyle. The screen says Blocked. Trying to be casual I glance around the room, but I don’t see him.

  Kyle texts me. Please practice with me tonight. It’s important. Then he types a semi-colon with a parenthesis—a winking face.

  A smile lifts my cheeks. As soon as I notice, I stop. Quickly type back: Okay.

  Bitchy Spears is winding down. I think she’s almost finished talking when she asks a question. “What distinguishing tendencies did most early twentieth century writers have?” She scans the room. Several hands go up. Lots of students with opinions. I’m guessing that’s good. I don’t want to answer, so of course, she calls on me. “Miss Martin. Please enlighten the class.”

  I sit up straight. Clasp my hands in my lap. “Um…” I pause, and Bitchy Spears interrupts.

  “Obviously she’ll get an A on the final.”

  The class laughs.

  I shrink down in my seat. There’s plenty I could’ve said: stuff about Modernists, Realists, and even Naturalists.

  My phone vibrates. I hate this class. It’s Toxic. She Drives Me Crazy.

  I cover my mouth to keep from snorting.

  Agreed.

  The rest of the day is hard, but uneventful. I talk to my teachers, tell them that I slipped on some water and fell down a long flight of stairs. It could happen. They’ve agreed to let me make up my work. I guess, in a small way, I have Evan to thank. The bruises on my face encourage the teachers to take pity. I see it in their demeanor.

  More snow is falling. As I make my way to the Fine Arts building, I leave tracks on the sidewalk. My toes are frozen. Large snowflakes sting my face and stick to my eyelashes. I pull open the door and my body sighs in relief.

  The entryway is quiet. I quickly make my way down the steps and pull open the doors to the practice rooms. A little more tension leaves my body.

  Music: the soother of souls.

  About halfway down the hall I hear the song Kyle played the last time he arrived before me. As before, the melody breaks my heart. It’s lovely, breathtaking. It sweeps me away to a place where I’m more comfortable, more relaxed, more at peace.

  I pull open the doors and he stops.

  “Hi.”

  As soon as I see him, my heart speeds up. This is our sanctuary. No one can touch us when we are within these walls. Unless we allow it. He comes over, pulls my light coat off, and tosses it into a chair. I’m mesmerized by the way his hands move, the way the muscles in his forearms and biceps flex and contract. I can’t help but be taken in by the way his navy shirt hugs him from his chest all the way down to his narrow hips. Past his stonewashed denim. And, for the first time, I check out his shoes.

  They’re white. Look worn. Sneakers. Comfortable. Cozy. Unassuming. Just like Kyle. And I smile.

  “Hi back.”

  His lips find mine immediately. No hesitation, but he’s soft. Tender. I know he’s taking into consideration my split lip, and his thoughtfulness gives me shivers. He is still urgent, I respond in kind. Hungry for him. He presses my mouth open with his lips, sucks on my tongue. My thighs, the secret place between them, suddenly jolts to life and ignites with pleasure.

  I can’t keep my hands off him. They wander under his shirt and my fingers trace the places my eyes roamed only moments before. His hands cup my butt, holding me to him.

  There’s a knock on the door, then it opens. I suddenly remember Evan and what he said he would do—to me, to my aunt and uncle. I feel sick.


  “Hey Professor Jenkins,” Kyle says casually.

  A sob of relief escapes my throat. I need to be more careful. I turn and smile.

  Professor Jenkins clears his throat. Gives my face a once over. Shakes his head. “Are you warmed up? Can I hear how the piece is coming along?”

  “Um, sure,” Kyle says.

  We move to take our seats. After I’ve adjusted my bench, I glance at Kyle. Send him a message with my eyes. This isn’t going to be good. My fingers aren’t limber. I haven’t played in a couple of days.

  Kyle saves me.

  “Do you mind if we run through a couple of exercises?”

  Professor Jenkins’ eyebrows rise into his salt and pepper hair. A look that asks, “What have you been doing?” He takes a seat in a chair, crosses one leg over the other, and tweaks his clothing. “Of course. Proceed.”

  I’m so happy I could reach over and kiss Kyle, but I don’t. We run through scales together for five minutes. I’m amazed at how well we play together. It’s not easy to play a song with someone else. The best duet partners learn to breathe together. For many, it takes years of practice. But with Kyle, it’s as if his heart is a part of me. I sense the beat, when he’s going to breathe. Each time I glance at Kyle, I get the feeling he’s experiencing the same thing.

  My fingers are feeling better, more limber. I nod, letting him know I’m ready.

  Kyle counts quietly. “One. Two. Three.” He starts to play. I join in. My fingers play the notes. My soul follows along. Soaring. Reaching. Believing. Worry about Evan, about whether I should be with Kyle, and the stress of school fade into the background.

  I am the music.

  I’ve had the piece memorized for a while and I play with my eyes closed, only occasionally opening them to watch Kyle when there’s a particularly difficult section. His ice-blue eyes meet mine every time I look over. Melting me. And I’m lost. In his eyes, the chords, the melody.

  When it’s finished, Professor Jenkins claps. He stands, picks up his briefcase and his coat and moves to the door. “Lovely. Almost there. Keep it up. I’ll check back after Christmas break.”