sitting at her desk as usual, on time, on the ball, and with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. I’d never seen her late, never seen her look bored or disinterested during the hour-long monologues Mr. Cassidy gave every day, and never seen her without her hair in a ponytail.
Kimberly Lawson was every daddy’s dream come true. Pretty, smart, responsible, talented, a rule follower, and completely and utterly difficult to get close to, which I thought was funny. I’d seen half the football and baseball teams crash and burn with her since junior high, but they still kept trying. Like lemmings flocking over the cliff’s edge, they just mindlessly kept heading toward that fateful death drop.
Word was Kimberly Lawson was a lesbian, but it was a quiet word, just like Kimberly Lawson was a quiet girl. Guys could be bitter when repeated attempts to get laid didn’t work out. Being a girl in high school, I thought, would suck. If you put out, you were a slut, and if you didn’t, you were gay. She’d had two short-lived boyfriends in the past three years that I knew of, but I hadn’t known either guy. Kimberly Lawson,besides being the best volleyball player in the school’s history, was a mystery if you wanted to know her and just another invisible student walking the halls if you didn’t. I’d never wanted to know her, even if she was pretty. Not my type.
She stared at me as I walked past her and sat down, her big brown doe eyes neither afraid nor questioning. Just there, like she was. Two moving eyeballs stuck in a face painting. Mr. Cassidy began his lecture for the day, this one beginning a section on writing essays. I stared at him, not hearing a word he said as I thought about Kimberly. She probably thought I was some kind of criminal or street thug, and for some reason, it bothered me.
Fifty minutes later, class let out and I followed Kimberly to the hall. “Hey.” She kept walking, her long legs outpacing mine. I hustled up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder. “Hey.”
She stopped, turning. Her eyes sharpened. “Yes?”
“I saw you. At the church.”
She didn’t smile, didn’t say anything, just stared at me.
I cleared my throat. “That was your family?”
She nodded, her eyes flicking away.
I took a breath. Talking to this chick was like pulling teeth. “It’s not what it looked like.” I don’t know why I said it, and I don’t know why I cared, but I did.
“You mean beating up Corey and taking his money?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. It wasn’t that.”
“You didn’t beat him up and take his money?”
I looked at her. “Yeah, I did. But not for a bad reason.”
She smirked. “I didn’t know there was a good reason for beating people up and stealing.”
I looked at her and knew it was useless. I knew what she saw when she looked at me. “I just … Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.” Then I walked away.
I contemplated skating until dinner, but something in me pointed my board home. I chuckled as I went, reminded that my mom had once told me that people are sometimes drawn to what hurts them more than what’s good for them. For all I knew, the walls would be splattered with battle blood and I’d find Indy’s head hanging on a stake in the front yard, but I had to know.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I got home at three and the house was silent. Mom’s car was gone, and when I walked inside, the blinds were pulled shut and Dad sat in his recliner, staring at the dead TV. A bad, bad sign, because it meant he was brooding. He held a bottle of beer in his hand, and three more empties made a row on the table beside him. My dad was not a heavy drinker, and certainly not in the middle of the day. He wasn’t at work, either. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hello.” He didn’t turn his head, just stared at the blank screen.
I decided playing dumb was the best thing, even though I’d never seen my dad drink four beers before three in the afternoon. “Cut loose from work early, huh?”
“Yes.”
“You
Kimberly Lawson was every daddy’s dream come true. Pretty, smart, responsible, talented, a rule follower, and completely and utterly difficult to get close to, which I thought was funny. I’d seen half the football and baseball teams crash and burn with her since junior high, but they still kept trying. Like lemmings flocking over the cliff’s edge, they just mindlessly kept heading toward that fateful death drop.
Word was Kimberly Lawson was a lesbian, but it was a quiet word, just like Kimberly Lawson was a quiet girl. Guys could be bitter when repeated attempts to get laid didn’t work out. Being a girl in high school, I thought, would suck. If you put out, you were a slut, and if you didn’t, you were gay. She’d had two short-lived boyfriends in the past three years that I knew of, but I hadn’t known either guy. Kimberly Lawson,besides being the best volleyball player in the school’s history, was a mystery if you wanted to know her and just another invisible student walking the halls if you didn’t. I’d never wanted to know her, even if she was pretty. Not my type.
She stared at me as I walked past her and sat down, her big brown doe eyes neither afraid nor questioning. Just there, like she was. Two moving eyeballs stuck in a face painting. Mr. Cassidy began his lecture for the day, this one beginning a section on writing essays. I stared at him, not hearing a word he said as I thought about Kimberly. She probably thought I was some kind of criminal or street thug, and for some reason, it bothered me.
Fifty minutes later, class let out and I followed Kimberly to the hall. “Hey.” She kept walking, her long legs outpacing mine. I hustled up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder. “Hey.”
She stopped, turning. Her eyes sharpened. “Yes?”
“I saw you. At the church.”
She didn’t smile, didn’t say anything, just stared at me.
I cleared my throat. “That was your family?”
She nodded, her eyes flicking away.
I took a breath. Talking to this chick was like pulling teeth. “It’s not what it looked like.” I don’t know why I said it, and I don’t know why I cared, but I did.
“You mean beating up Corey and taking his money?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. It wasn’t that.”
“You didn’t beat him up and take his money?”
I looked at her. “Yeah, I did. But not for a bad reason.”
She smirked. “I didn’t know there was a good reason for beating people up and stealing.”
I looked at her and knew it was useless. I knew what she saw when she looked at me. “I just … Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.” Then I walked away.
I contemplated skating until dinner, but something in me pointed my board home. I chuckled as I went, reminded that my mom had once told me that people are sometimes drawn to what hurts them more than what’s good for them. For all I knew, the walls would be splattered with battle blood and I’d find Indy’s head hanging on a stake in the front yard, but I had to know.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I got home at three and the house was silent. Mom’s car was gone, and when I walked inside, the blinds were pulled shut and Dad sat in his recliner, staring at the dead TV. A bad, bad sign, because it meant he was brooding. He held a bottle of beer in his hand, and three more empties made a row on the table beside him. My dad was not a heavy drinker, and certainly not in the middle of the day. He wasn’t at work, either. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hello.” He didn’t turn his head, just stared at the blank screen.
I decided playing dumb was the best thing, even though I’d never seen my dad drink four beers before three in the afternoon. “Cut loose from work early, huh?”
“Yes.”
“You
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