Falling Further (5 page)

~~~

The sky outside
our bedroom window is barely light when I crack open my eyes again. My heart sinks
as I remember where it is that I am. Swallowing a sigh, I roll over to see if
Conway is awake yet. Her bed is empty, the sheets rumpled and cast aside. I
cast my eyes every which way, looking for her, and something on the nightstand
catches my eye.

Sitting beside
the alarm clock is a soggy, unwrapped Hostess cupcake. A single, mostly burned
out tea light sits on top of it, the little flame flickering in the near
darkness. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, staring at the tiny treat.
A folded index card stands next to the offering with the words “a sweet for
your sweet sixteenth” scrawled in girlish handwriting.

Before I can
stop them, baffled tears start to stream down my cheeks. It’s the first
birthday cake I’ve had since my parents passed away—and quite possibly the best
I’ve ever had in my life.

Four

Trace:
Who
is this girl?

I slam my hand
down on the car horn, shattering the quiet of the morning. A satisfied smirk
spreads across my face as I picture Paul and Nancy waking up in a cold, boozy
sweat. Well, good. Serves the assholes right, I say. If they could haul their
asses out of bed to round up the troops for school, it wouldn’t be my
responsibility. But as the only foster kid in the house with a license, it
falls to me to make sure everyone’s sitting nice and pretty in homeroom every
morning.

The front door
of the Daniels’ house swings open, and Nadia steps out onto the porch. I feel
my throat clench up tight at the sight of her, and wish that I could kick my
own ass.

This happens every
time I take a look at her, even after the two weeks she’s been in the house. I
need to shake this girly little crush of mine, and soon. It’d be way too weird
to start anything up with her. And besides, I’m sure she doesn’t want or need
any attention from the likes of me. Girls who look like Nadia can do way better
than my sorry ass.

She hurries
across the scraggly front yard, wrapping her arms around her waist. Her gray
cardigan and fitted jeans are not exactly what you’d call skimpy, but she
manages to make them look amazing. With that thick blonde hair and those big
blue eyes, she doesn’t need any fancy beauty products to look incredible.

The crazy thing
is, it doesn’t seem like she knows it. How can someone be as beautiful as Nadia
and not even have the slightest idea?

“Morning,” she
says breathlessly, sliding into the back seat.

“What are you
doing back there?” I ask, peering through the rearview mirror.

“Garrick needs
more leg room than me,” she replies.

“You got here
first. Fuck Garrick.”

She lets out an
exasperated laugh and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Don’t draw me into your macho
nonsense. If you want to mess with Garrick, you can do it yourself.”

“Fine. I get it.
You just don’t want to ride shotgun with me,” I say, pulling an
over-the-top-pout.

“Don’t be sad. I
promise you’re still my favorite foster brother.”

I cringe a
little as she lets the b word slip past her lips. The last thing I want to be
to this girl is a brother, after all. But that’s just my freakin’ luck, I
guess.

I slam my palm
against the horn again, holding it down nice and long out of frustration and
more than a little annoyance. We’re going to be late if those jokers don’t get
down here soon. Not like I give a shit about school, but I get enough
detentions as it is without adding tardiness to the laundry list of offenses.

Conway comes
catapulting out of the house in a crop top and low rise jeans. She thinks she’s
tough shit, having grown up in the system and all. But really, she’s just a
kid—a kid who it’s my job to protect, these days.

I’ve lost count
of how many douche bags I’ve had to chase away from her. It’s not like they’d
get anywhere with her, anyway. My little foster sister only has eyes for one
dude: Garrick. What she sees in the big lug is beyond me, but they’ve been cooped
up at the Daniels’ for a while...tragedy can bring people together.

Naturally,
Garrick’s the last one out the door. His eyes are still puffy from sleep, and
he looks more than a bit hungover. We’ve got all the booze we want in this
house, and Garrick’s got a habit of going overboard. Me, I know how to handle
my liquor. Chalk it up to experience, I guess. It’s not something that I’m
proud of, really. I don’t actually think about it all that much. It’s just a
part of my life, like anything else. Besides, there are far worse things a guy
could be into than booze.

“Don’t you
assholes know what an alarm clock is?” I demand as Garrick and Conway lower
themselves in my car.

“Shut up,”
Garrick grumbles, closing his eyes tightly, “Why do you have to be so damn loud
in the morning?”

Just to piss him
off, I crank up the volume of the car radio and switch on my favorite metal
station. Garrick groans as we pull away from the curb, and all I can do is
laugh. Maybe I can train him into taking it easy on the booze. Talk about cruel
and unusual punishment.

In no time flat,
we pull into the parking lot of our public high school. Chicago schools are not
exactly the pride and joy of the nation, and this one’s no exception. One thing
this place has got going for it, though, is that it’s pretty easy to fall
through the cracks. No one gives you shit, or gives a shit at all most of the
time.

For those of us
just waiting out the clock, that’s a pretty big perk. I don’t need any asshole
teacher trying to go all Good Will Hunting on me, that’s for damn sure. I sure
as hell don’t have time for that.

The four of us
pile out of the car, slinging our backpacks onto our shoulders. I catch a happy
little smile creep onto Nadia’s face as we make our way toward the building.
She’s walking faster than any of us, and I hurry to keep up with her, letting
the others fall behind.

“What are you
smiling about?” I ask, “You do realize that we’re heading into school, right?”

“Exactly,” she
says, “I know what to do here. How to get by. I don’t know...I guess that
school’s always felt more like home to me than any place I’ve lived.” Nadia
catches me looking down at her, dumbstruck, and blushes prettily. “Sorry,” she
says, “I guess that’s kind of a weird thing to say.”

“It’s not that
weird,” I tell her. “I mean...I’ve heard weirder, anyway.”

“That’s
something, I guess,” she laughs.

We step through
the front doors of the school, and swim out into the sea of people surging
through the main hallway. In these last few minutes before the first bell rings,
the whole place is totally chaotic.

Nadia turns to
me with a timid smile. She’s seemed kind of skittish around me since she got to
the house, hell if I know why. Maybe she just doesn’t make a habit of getting
too friendly with thugs like me right out of the gate.

She’s only been
around other foster kids for a few years, she probably still doesn’t feel like
one of us. And I’m certainly not going to press the issue. It’s probably better
if she does keep her distance, to be perfectly honest.

“Guess I’m off,”
she says, “I’ll see you after school.”

“Yeah, OK,” I
say, nodding once.

We move away
from each other and head our separate ways, but a weird feeling creeps through
my blood the minute I turn my back. I whip my head back around toward Nadia and
feel my jaw clench hard. Her slight body is being towered over by some guy in a
hoodie and baseball cap. I can tell just by looking that she’s uncomfortable,
trying to put quick distance between them. But this asshole won’t quit.

He trails her,
following her down the crowded hallway without leaving any room to breathe
between their bodies. As I watch, he frees a hand from his long sleeve and
places it on the small of her back. She flinches away at the touch, and he
raises his hand just a hair to lay a slap against her ass.

My body unfolds
in one motion, and before I know what’s hit me I’ve got the guy up against the
wall, my hands around his throat. He wheezes, surprised by my interference. I
watch him recognize me, and as he does, his surprise turns to terror.

Good. He’s heard
of me.

“Keep your God
damn hands to yourself, you filthy son of a bitch,” I growl, tightening my grip
on the prick’s windpipe. All around, people start to take notice of us, hooting
and carrying on like this is some kind of damn prize fight. They circle around
us, rubbernecking to get a better look. I ignore them, obviously. I’m not much
a showman, this shit is personal.

“I was only
messing with her,” he gasps, trying and failing to get away from me.

“Messing with
her means messing with me,” I say to the punk ass. “And you don't want to mess
with me. Do you motherfucker?”

“Trace...” I
hear Nadia say softly. “Trace, let go.”

“No way,” I tell
her.

“You’re going to
hurt him,” she says, imploringly. I feel her hands close around my arm and tug,
but I can’t stop now.

“This little
bitch needs to know his place,” I snarl, “And what’ll happen to him if he steps
out of line again.”

“Come on,” Nadia
pleads, “If you don’t stop, someone’s going to see—”

“Mr. O’Connor,”
says a familiar voice from down the hall, “Get off of him. Now.”

With a stifled
groan, I let go of the asshole’s throat. He slides down the wall, coughing, as
I turn to face the interrupter. Mr. Sanders—or The Colonel, as I like to call
him—plants his hands on his hips and looks at me with something that’s half
disappointment and half resignation.

Sanders is my
guidance counselor, or at least that’s what it says on his pay stub. Can’t say
he’s done much in terms of guiding me, but I don’t hold it against him. No
one’s ever been able to get through to me.

“Hey, Colonel,”
I smile, stuffing my hands into my pockets, “How’s tricks?”

“Come with me,
Trace,” he says. For all my teasing, the guy actually looks nothing like that
southern dude on the chicken buckets. He’s got this do-gooder hipster thing
going on that would normally piss me the hell off. But, he’s usually pretty
straight with me, so I can stomach the elbow patches and the mountain man
beard.

“I was just
having a little talk with the guy,” I tell him, taking a step forward, “We had
a couple of things to clear up. No harm, no foul.”

“Don’t know if
he’d agree,” Sanders says, nodding to the guy on the ground.

“Well,” I shrug,
“Can’t please everyone.”

“Let’s have a
little chat in my office, shall we?” he says, “The rest of you can stop gawking
and get to homeroom. Now.”

The circle of
onlookers moves out, grumbling...all but Nadia. She stands stock still, looking
at me. Her blue eyes are full of wonder, tinged with wariness.

“You didn’t have
to do that,” she says quietly, “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you
can,” I tell her, “But everyone needs backup.”

A slow smile
creeps across her plush lips, a smile that’s just for me. I’m just about to be
swallowed whole by that smile when I managed to wrench myself away and follow
Sanders down to his office. Can’t very well be caught standing in the middle of
the hall, grinning like a damn idiot, can I?

Five

Trace:
Don't
fuck with my friends.

The Colonel and
I make our way to his glorified broom closet of an office and step inside. The
school is already pressed for space, and I guess that guidance counselors
aren’t very high up on the food chain.

I sink down into
a worn out chair that stands in front of Sanders’ desk. He plops down opposite
me with a heavy sigh.

“So, what was it
this time?” he asks.

“What was what?”

“Did that kid
owe you money or something?” he asks, “Bum a smoke without getting you back?
What?”

“Nothing like
that,” I say, “You know I’m not that petty, Sanders.”

“It’s not a gang
thing, is it?” he goes on, “The last thing I need is for you to cave in and
join up with a gang. You’re so close to being out of here, Trace. Don’t blow it
now.”

“Relax,” I tell
him, “It’s not a gang thing. Not even close. You know I’m not going to do
anything that stupid. As soon as this year is over, I am out. I’m not going to
fuck up my chances of getting away scott free.”

“Good,” he says,
“I’m glad to hear it. But if you’re so concerned about making a clean break,
what was all that back there?”

“I couldn’t help
it,” I shrug, “It’s not like I planned to jump the guy, he was just acting like
a dip shit.”

“How so?”

“He was messing
with someone. My...friend. Nadia.”

“Miss Faber?”
Sanders asks.

“Yeah,” I say,
“How’d you—?”

“I’m kept pretty
in the loop when it comes to foster kids here,” he says, “Nadia’s staying at
the Daniels’ with you and the others, right?”

“That would be
correct,” I say. “Guess Paul and Nancy are really digging those foster parent
tax benefits. They just keep collecting more of us.”

“I’m sure that’s
not why they’ve taken you all in,” Sanders says, unconvincingly.

“You don’t even
believe that, Colonel,” I tell him, “I thought we had a deal? You be straight
with me, I act real nice and cooperative whenever you call me in here.”

“Fair enough,”
he allows. “So tell me, then. Who’s Nadia to you?”

“What does that
mean?” I ask.

“Well, Conway
and Garrick get into their fair share of crap around here, and I never see you
rushing in to rescue them.”

“They don’t need
rescuing,” I say.

“And Nadia
does?”

“No,
she’s...She’s just new to this whole thing. So sue me for being a little
protective.”

“It’s just not
really like you, is all,” Sanders says, “What makes her different than your
other foster siblings?”

“I really hate
that,” I tell him, “When people say things like ‘foster siblings’ or ‘foster
parents’. Unless ‘foster’ is another word for ‘fake’, then it’s a bunch of
bullshit. The assholes I’ve been forced to call ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ my whole life
are about as far from family as you can get.”

“What about the
other kids?” Sanders asks, “Don’t they come to feel like family after a while?”

“No,” I tell him
frankly, “Family just lets you down, no two ways about it. But Garrick and
Conway...and yeah, Nadia too. They’re better than family. They’re my friends.
And I’m not going to let anything happen to any of them.”

Sanders looks at
me long and hard, training his uncomfortably sensitive eyes on mine. I actually
start to squirm a little, under his watch. I can stand up to a lot, and have
been called to, but this scrutiny is a bit too personal for me.

“OK,” the
Colonel finally says, “I get it. I really do, Trace. And I think it’s great
that you have people in your life that are so significant to you.”

“But?” I ask.

“But...You know
I’m going to have to give you all kinds of detention for manhandling that kid
back there.”

“Naturally,” I
mutter, “Never mind the fact that he was groping and harassing Nadia. I’m
totally the bad guy, here.”

“Come on,
Trace,” Sanders says, “By now, you’ve got to know that it’s hardly ever the bad
guy who gets what’s coming to him.”

I laugh sharply.
“You can say that again, Colonel.”

“So. This
afternoon, report to room 204 for an hour. You know the drill.”

I raise my right
hand in a salute and shoulder my backpack once more. I’m more than used to
taking the fall for my actions by now, whether the punishment fits the crime or
not.

The rest of the
day passes in fits and starts, just like it always does. I drag myself from
class to class with ear buds jammed in firmly. The soundtrack for my days at
school isn’t the droning of asshole teachers—it’s the Wu-Tang Clan, and Public
Enemy and anything with a good blast beat.

They can make me
come to school, but they can’t make me give a shit about it. I pass the time in
the only bearable way I know how, riding the day until my ass is finally free.
I schlep up to detention, serve my time, and finally make my way back out into
the late afternoon.

As I make my way
toward my car, I spot three people hovering around my parking space. My mouth
twists into a grin as I see that Garrick, Conway, and Nadia have been camped
out, waiting for me to reemerge.

“Can’t you
assholes just find someone else to bum a ride from?” I complain, shooing Conway
off the hood of the car.

“No, actually,”
Garrick says, “No one wants to play taxi driver for us rejects.”

“Nadia got a few
offers,” Conway teases.

Nadia shudders
in response. “Yeah, but for much more than a ride home, thank you very much.”

“Jesus,” I
growl, “How many asses do I need to kick before these mouth breathers realize
you’re off limits?”

“I didn’t realize
I was,” Nadia says pointedly. Somehow, she manages to twist the phrase into a
question, looking at me with frank curiosity.

“I, uh...” I
stammer, “I don’t know. Whatever.”

“What a loser,”
Conway laughs, as we all hop into the car.

I blast the
radio, hoping to drown out any further conversation. But even through the
rearview mirror, I can feel Nadia’s big blue eyes trained on me. It’s only a
matter of time before I’ll have to explain myself to her, but I intend to put
that moment off as long as humanly possible.

~~~

Paul and Nancy
grunt their greetings as the four of us kids pile into the ramshackle dump they
call a home. Most guys my age would head straight for the pantry or fridge to
rustle up some grub after a long day in the salt mines, but this isn’t an after
school snack kind of joint.

I can’t remember
the last time that we had something other than Chinese or pizza delivery for
dinner, and only because I or one of the other kids go fetch it. Paul and Nancy
prefer to drink their meals, so it falls on us to provide for ourselves.

I ditch my
backpack in the basement and head back out to forage among the fast food joints
this neighborhood has to offer.

“I’ll be back in
a minute,” I say to no one in particular. Garrick and Conway have already
disappeared into the depths of the house to occupy themselves however they
like.

“Can I come?”
says a voice from over my shoulder.

I turn to find
Nadia lingering a few paces behind me in the dingy foyer. Like an idiot, I let
my mouth fall open before any words have occurred to me. Slack-jawed and
dimwitted: qualities I’m sure a girl like her would appreciate.

“Uh, sure,” I
say, “I mean, if you really want to.”

“Beats sitting
around here,” she says, following me out onto the porch.

“Don’t you have
homework and shit to do?” I ask her, “Whatever you studious types get up to?”

“I finished it
all while we were waiting for you,” she says with a smile.

I let out an
appreciative whistle. “Damn, girl...that’s some freaky super genius shit.”

“I think it’s
just called algebra,” she replies, “But thanks...I guess?”

As we approach
the car, I have the ridiculous, out-of-nowhere urge to open passenger’s side
door for my companion. Where in the hell and idea like that could have come
from, I have no idea. I didn’t exactly grow up with any sort of gentlemanly,
chivalrous types.

I hurry around
to the driver’s side, knowing that a gesture like that would be all kinds of
nonsense. This girl does strange things to me.

We drive along
in silence for a long moment. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel as I
try and play it cool. This is one of first chances Nadia and I have had to be
totally alone, and I’m tweaking out just a little bit. And I don’t think my
panic is going unnoticed, either.

From the
passenger’s seat, Nadia steals short glances at me before turning her eyes back
to the view from the window. I can tell she wants to talk, but I seem to have
suddenly lost the ability. I’m plenty good at spitting game, but with
Nadia...that’s the last thing I would ever think of.

Even though
she’s stuck in the same trenches I am, she seems to be from a completely
different world. Around her, I feel like I’ve never even talked to a girl
before. Maybe, in some ways, I haven’t...at least, not a girl I was actually
interested in knowing as a person.

“If I was harsh
this morning...I’m sorry,” Nadia finally says, breaking the silence.

“What?” I say,
surprised out of wordlessness. “Harsh is not the word I’d use.”

“I mean...I
forgot to say thank you for dealing with that jerk,” she clarifies, “I’m used
to taking care of myself, you know. I don’t quite know what to do with someone
who’s trying to help me.”

“Yeah...I know
the feeling,” I mumble.

“It’s weird,
isn’t it?” she says, her voice full of wonder, “Having each others’ backs? I
mean, I don’t think I can threaten to beat anyone down for you. But...I hope
you know that I’m here for you, all the same.”

“Yeah. No. I get
that,” I say, fumbling my words, “I mean, seriously, don’t try and fight any
bitches on my behalf. But I know that if the time comes when I need you, you’ll
be there.”

“Damn straight,”
she says.

Both of us burst
into laughter at her trying-to-sound-tough thing. This girl is far more Sesame
Street than street, at least on the surface. Underneath, though, I can tell
that she’s tougher than she looks. I don’t think I’d like her as much as I do
if she wasn’t.

We fall back
into silence as we drive along, but it’s changed somehow. It’s more
comfortable, more familiar. I don’t feel like I need to impress her, or say the
right thing. And good thing, too, because I don’t think I could if I tried.

I swing the car
into some big name pizza place’s parking lot and cut the engine. We step out
into the yellow street light together, and I take a minute to marvel at the
fact that Nadia can still be so beautiful, even in the grimiest settings.
Nothing can touch her—not Paul and Nancy, not our horrible school, not even
whatever scars she must be sporting, having lost her parents. She’s practically
untouchable.

“So this is your
kingdom,” she says with a grin.

“Oh yeah,” I
reply, “Only the best for me and mine. Sometimes, I even go in for extra
cheese. But only when I’m feeling fancy.”

“Sure,” she
says, “Can’t roll hard every day, right?”

Nadia sidles in
close to me as we cross the parking lot. Night is gathering overhead, casting a
shadow over our shabby neighborhood. But rather than mask the unpleasantness,
nighttime has a way of intensifying it. After all, everything scary and wrong
seems more possible at night than during the day.

Instinctively, I
lay a protective hand on Nadia’s back. To my surprise, she doesn’t shrug me
away. Instead, I feel her relax at my touch—like she trusts me, or something. I
don’t think anyone’s trust has ever meant more to me than hers.

Out of the
corner of my eye, I spot a shadow shift, just a hair. My adrenaline spikes, and
I shift to place myself between Nadia and whatever’s out there, creeping
through the darkness. Nadia looks up at me, concerned and alarmed.

“What is it?”
she asks.

“I don’t know,”
I tell her. “Just stay behind me, OK? Just until I can—”

“Trace?” says a
rasping voice from the shadows. It’s a voice I know all too well. A voice that
I wish to my nonexistent god I could forget. I feel my jaw tighten, my hands
ball up into hard fists.

“What the fuck
are you doing here?” I growl at the shadows. “You’re not allowed to come near
me.”

“I know...but
Trace, baby, I just miss you so much...”

My stomach
churns as I watch a figure emerge from the heavy dark. A woman unfolds from the
pocket of blackness unlit by the grubby streetlights. She looks worse than the
last time I saw her, and that’s saying something.

Her frame has
grown frighteningly gaunt, and her eyes look like they’ve receded into her
skull. She wraps her arms around her painfully thin body, like she’s trying to
keep warm even on this mild night. When she cracks a nervous smile, I see that
her teeth have grown so yellow that they’re almost brown.