How I Lost You (10 page)

“She wants to play too. But, well, the guy who raped her. He raped another girl.” I caved before he cracked me on his own.

He inhaled sharply and his ears turned pink. He rubbed at the stubbly grey hair he still wore in a military-style cut.

“The girl called Kya. She wanted her to talk to her lawyer. Kya said no.”

He scratched more at his scalp. “Poor kid,” he said. “I wasn't expecting that.”

I nodded. “Neither was she. So, you know. I kind of had to talk to her.”

“I feel for her, I do, but you know you have to make decisions based on what you want from life too. There're better ways of handling things than getting drunk, right?”

Did I mention my parents hand out opinions like candy on Halloween? Free and in fistfuls.

“Preaching to the choir, Daddy-o.”

He moved his fingers down and grazed at his chin. “I hope so, kiddo. You can be there for your friend, but don't let her, you know, steer you in the wrong direction.”

“You know me, Dad. Nerd, through and through.”

He pushed his hip off the door and reached for the door handle. “Nothing wrong with being a nerd. Except you're not. You're too beautiful to be a nerd.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” He was kind of non-objective, considering his role in creating me and all, but still. It was nice to be called beautiful. Even if it was from my dad. He closed the door softly behind him.

I glanced at my alarm clock and then grabbed my purse. I reached inside. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pj bottoms and took a deep breath.

My heart pounded at the thought of what I needed to do.

 

The phone looked innocent. We were on pretty good terms as far as inanimate objects went. It couldn't hurt me.

There were other choices of course. I could text Levi. Reaching him that way would be easy too but would also leave physical evidence. I didn't want my words intercepted by someone else. At least, that was my story, and I was sticking with it.

I took a deep breath and picked up the phone, noticing fingerprints on the screen. I contemplated searching for Windex as my stomach fluttered with nerves, excitement, and dread.

Hello, I mouthed to myself. This is Grace. Grace Black. Arrgh. As if Levi knew a million Grace Blacks in Tadita. I took a deep breath, tapped my contact list, and scrolled to L. I tapped on his number. Waited.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Levi? Hi. It's Grace. Uh. Grace Black.” Ugh. I rocked back and forth on my sit bones and called myself names in my head.

“Hey, Grace.” His voice rumbled out, low and sexy, over the line. Sexy invited lusty.

I managed to make small talk for exactly two full sentences. Then there was an uncomfortable pause.

“I'm glad you called,” he said into the uncomfortable lull, his voice sending shivers up my arms.

“You are?”
Do
you
like
me? Do you want to kiss me? God. I want to kiss you.
“I mean, I'm glad. I, uh, wanted to call and talk to you to make sure, you know, that what we talked about last night…uh, stays private.” My cheeks flushed from my efforts and I prayed he couldn't tell what I'd really been thinking.

“No worries, Grace. I got it. Like I said, you can trust me.”

The warmth in his voice made me want to dance around the room. This wasn't supposed to be about me crushing hard on Levi. Or imagining us hooking up. This was a serious matter about my best girlfriend.

“Thanks. I just want to make sure. Kya was really out of it and not herself, and that's kind of why I said something. It's super private.”

“It's okay.”

“Good.” I paused and then plunged on before it got awkward again. “She came to see me this morning. Straight from James's. She's okay. You know, hungover and stuff, but she'll live.” I closed my eyes, wishing I'd stayed quiet.

“Good,” he said. “Not the hangover. But that she'll live.” I heard a smile in his voice.

“Yup,” I said. And then my mind blanked. It turned off and there it was, another awkward pause. I wasn't used to calling boys. Kya said I was too picky, as if she didn't realize most of the boys wanted her, not me.

Why hadn't I texted? Dork. I was a dork.

“Hey, Grace?” Levi said.

“Yeah?” I managed.

“Do you want to go out sometime? With me? Like to a movie or something?”

I let out the breath I'd been holding. Even his Canadian accent—“oot”—was adorable.

“I love movies,” I said solemnly.

“Me too.” The smile in his voice unfroze my facial muscles. “Do you work tonight?” he asked.

“No.” I had to work hard not to let the happy dance going on in my head show in my voice.

“Would it be weird if I asked you out tonight?” he asked.

“No. It wouldn't be.” A giggle escaped. “Tonight would be great.”

“Cool. What's playing that you want to see?” he asked.

We chatted about movies and then he arranged to pick me up. I hung up and threw my phone on the bed. Totally uncool and not sophisticated, I squealed like a four-year-old and then covered my mouth with both hands.

I was going to a movie with Levi?

My phone rang again. I looked at caller display and picked it up, grinning from ear to ear. “Skanklet Black's Hangover Cures,” I said to Kya.

“Grace.” Kya's voice was heavy and hoarse with emotion. “Can you come over? I need to see you.” She sniffled. “Now.”

 

The front door of Kya's house was unlocked. “Hello?” I called into the foyer, but no one answered. The clock in the front hallway ticked ominously.

I closed the front door behind me, slid off my flip-flops, and hurried down the hall. I knew the layout of her house as well as my own. I ran to the kitchen but she wasn't in there. “Kya?” I called.

Spotting a large piece of white paper stuck on the fridge under a cowboy hat magnet, I moved closer. A messy handwritten note was scrawled on the paper.

Dad and I have gone to Patty's. Home later.

The note burst with emotion and love. Not. Sighing, I went to the living room but she wasn't there so I dashed two by two up the stairs and hurried down the hallway to her room.

I knocked but there was no answer, so I pushed open the door. Instead of crazy chaos like mine, her room was pretty much spotless and it always kind of freaked me out. No paintball posters or notes taped to her walls. No clothes spilling out of the laundry basket. Her dresser was neat with only a couple of framed, black and white photos. The floor was spotless. In the middle of the room, Kya curled up on her king-sized bed in a fetal position. She lay perfectly still on top of her comforter. A tiny kid on a giant bed.

“Kya?” I hurried toward her, but she didn't respond. “Kya?” I reached over, grabbed her shoulder, and shook. She'd tucked her whole body into an unmovable ball, and her eyes were squeezed shut.

My heartbeat raced as I shook her again. “Kya?” She didn't move. “Kya. Did you take something?” I yelped, remembering the boy in tenth grade who swallowed a bottle of pills before Christmas. We'd heard he had his stomach pumped in emergency and then was shipped to a psychiatric hospital. We'd never seen him again.

“Kya!” I glanced around for her phone. I hadn't even brought mine.

Something puffed out of her mouth. Part laugh, part cry. “No,” she mumbled. “Don't worry, I'm not brave enough to do that.”

“That would
not
be brave.” I sat on the bed and put my hand on her curled-up hip. “Don't even say that. Oh, sweetie. What's wrong?” I said. “What happened?”

“You mean other than blacking out last night?” She squeezed her eyes tighter.

I scooted closer and reached to smooth her hair, but she turned away and curled up into a tighter ball.

“I hate her. For calling me.” Her voice stayed flat. Angry and hollow. “She's brought all this stuff back.”

Kya liked to keep tight control. Most of the time. Until it became too much, like last night.

I patted her hip, trying to think of something to say. “You don't have to talk to her. Or do anything.” I'd stand in front of an oncoming car to stop anyone from making her say anything she didn't want to. I couldn't hate the girl though. Somewhere, wherever she was, she probably had a best girlfriend who wanted to protect her as much as I wanted to protect Kya.

I hoped so.

“My parents weren't even here when I got home.” She shoved her fists into her eyes. “They left. So they don't have to deal.” Sniffling, she seemed to struggle to keep herself together. In the ball with her hair messed up, no makeup on, she looked about five years old. I stared down at her, feeling helpless to do anything to take away her pain.

“You're mad they left you alone?” I asked softly.

“It's pretty obvious, isn't it, Grace? They don't want to talk to me. I told my mom about the call and you know what she said? She said ‘oh.' And then she said she was sorry and she started to cry and then she went to the kitchen to make a snack. That's when I left. To go to Lucas's. She didn't even ask where I was going.”

I sighed.

“And now when I come home, they're not here. Not a word from either of them about the girl. Or asking me how I feel. And you know what? They're going to pretend it never happened. I guarantee they won't say a word about it.”

A surge of anger swallowed my sadness. “You can talk to me,” I said, even though I wasn't enough. I wasn't what she needed.

She rolled over to look at me. “They've always thought it was my fault.”

“Oh, Kya.” I reached for her hand and pretended to admire the fresh polish she'd recently painted on her nails. Kya didn't mind repeating the effort to make them look pretty. I kept mine plain and short.

“Your mom and dad feel guilty. They don't know what to do. Or say.” We both knew they should be here for her. I wished they were home so I could give them some serious suggestions or physically shake some sense into both of them. I wanted them to tell Kya they didn't blame her. She needed to hear it and they should be smart enough to figure that out.

She picked at an invisible thread in her comforter. “She shouldn't have called. I want to forget.”

“But, Kya,” I said softly. “You can't make it go away.” I squeezed her hand and another surge of anger filled my lungs. I blew out a long, noisy breath, trying to clear the negativity out.

“I never should have gotten out of the car. Or fought with my dad,” she whispered.

“It was
not
your fault.” My voice came out louder than I intended.

“I do bad things. I'm impulsive. Irresponsible. An accident waiting to happen.”

“Kya, you're not. You're amazing. You take big chunks out of life. If I could be half as brave as you are. Half as outgoing…”

She shook her head.

I squeezed her hand harder. “Yes. You're special. Do you know how many people wish they could be like you?”

She snorted. “They don't know anything.” She curled back into a ball, so I spooned beside her. I wrapped my arms around her as she shook with her effort not to cry. She let me hold her for a moment and then moved away, flipping onto her back. She stretched out her legs and put her hands behind her head, staring up at her ceiling.

I stretched on my back beside her, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers she'd had for years. She loved stars. When we were young, we used to lie on her trampoline late at night to watch them. She'd point out constellations and James would correct her and tell us the right names. Our legs pressed side by side, hers so much darker and curvier than mine.

“What can I do to help?” I asked softly.

She turned and reached over, touching my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “You already are.” We smiled at each other. I pointed up. “I haven't slept over in so long. I'd forgotten about your glow stickers.”

“Yeah. Remember how we used to watch them while we told scary stories?”

I huffed. “You didn't tell scary stories. You taught me the facts of life. And ranked all the boys in school.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Well. You thought that was scary.”

“I still do.”

We smiled at each other and stayed on our backs, saying nothing, and then her lips turned up.

“You want to do something tonight?” she asked softly.

I blinked and glanced away, hesitating too long. Thinking of Levi and his invitation to the movie. “Uh. Sure.” I could call him. Put it off for another time.

Kya rolled on her side, leaning up on her elbow. “Wait a minute. Look at your face.” She sat up. “You're all red! You're supposed to see that guy tonight, aren't you? Levi?”

I stared at the ceiling, not moving. “He asked me to go to a movie, but I can do it another time.” I sat up, facing her. “It's no big deal. I'd rather hang out with you. I'll call him”

“No!” She slapped my arm. Hard. “Gracie, look at your face!” I rubbed at my arm and bent my head down, hiding behind my hair. “You're blushing. You like him! Don't you?”

I silently cursed my fair complexion and crossed my legs, running my fingers along my calf. They were prickly. I needed to shave.

“No way!” she shouted again. “You
do
like him.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but I wasn't exactly known for my poker face.

“This is a big friggin' deal,” she declared, crossing her arms in front of her and grinning.

I glanced around, looking at anything except her. “It's not. And whatever. I can go out with him another time. I want to hang out with you.”

“Nuh-uh.” She uncrossed her arms and her body seemed to inflate with new life. “Forget it, Skanklet.” In a quick motion, she swooped her legs over the end of the bed and stood. “Oh my God. You're finally going to live up to your nickname. Aren't you?” She clapped her hands gleefully. “And it was supposed to be ironic.”

“It's still ironic. Trust me.” I gave her a dirty look.

“You are
so
going on that date tonight. And I am going to pick out something fabulous for you to wear.”

I protested, but she shook her head. The dead look in her eyes was gone. I decided maybe the distraction was good for her and shut my mouth.

“Lucas texted me earlier,” she said. “He asked me to do something with him tonight, so don't feel bad. I'll hang out with him. Surprisingly, he's not mad at me for last night.” She frowned for a second, then pivoted and danced toward her closet.

“Mad at you?” I asked. “Why would
he
be mad at
you
?”

“For acting like a freak.” She flipped through her clothes, all hung neatly and organized by color.

“You didn't act like a freak. You were upset and you handled it, um, unwisely.”

She turned back and rolled her eyes.

“Well,” I said. “He kind of helped, don't you think? Maybe you should be mad at
him
for getting you wasted and letting his friends give you pills.”

She laughed as she pulled something from the closet. “Don't worry about Lucas. Honestly. He's a nice guy.” She pulled out another dress, hung it over one arm, and kept flipping. “I was on a mission and there was nothing he could do about it. But I'm okay now. Really, I am.” She glanced over her shoulder and flashed a smile. “I can always count on you to have my back. Thanks.”

She returned her attention to the closet and pulled out a couple more items. She waved her free hand at me, motioning at me to stand up. “Don't look so sad. This is fun for me. I like playing dress up. And, I want you to go out with Levi. Because you like him.”

“But—”

“Butt,” she interrupted, turned, and shook her butt at me the way she always did. She laughed. “I'm totally going out with Lucas tonight. Don't look so darn guilty. You remind me of my mother. A much thinner version of my mother.” She walked to me and held up a blue mini dress. “Wrong color.” She tossed it on the bed and held up a similar dress in black. “Too boring.” She tossed that one too.

“Are you sure you're okay?” I asked softly as she held up a third selection to me. A bronzy tunic.

She sighed. “I don't want to dwell on it anymore. Okay?”

“But—”

“Butt.” She turned and wiggled again. “Seriously. Thanks for listening…but I'm done with that conversation.” She held up a short-sleeved blouse, pressed her lips tight, and stood back, contemplating the top. “Yes. This one.” I took the hanger from her, held the short-sleeved blouse up to my neck, and looked down.

“Well,” I said, not really paying attention to the top. I wished I knew how to get her to open up. “Anytime you want to talk. You know that, right?”

She nodded. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.” She turned from me and headed back toward her closet door. “Shoes.”

I put the top on the bed. “Are you sure you're up to going out with Lucas? After last night?”

“I feel okay. Like my dad says, the best part about youth is that hangovers don't last.” She narrowed her eyes at me and said in a mock angry voice, “You sure you want to go out with his cousin? What do we know about him? Other than he's Canadian. My dad says we shouldn't trust Canadians. All they do is talk about hockey and the weather. And flaunt their cheap healthcare.”

“Levi plays soccer,” I told her. “Not hockey.”

“Oh. Look at you, standing up for him.” She got down on both knees and rooted around the closet floor, mumbling as she searched.

“He's a nice guy,” I said softly.

“So is Lucas,” she said with her head inside her closet.

“So nice he let his friends give you pills?” I didn't add anything about them also seeing her topless. I needed to tell her, but it didn't seem like the right time. When she was stronger, I would. Not so vulnerable.

“I like him,” she mumbled. “Even though he sucks at paintball, which makes him less of a man in your eyes.”

I snorted. “Paintball and boyfriends don't mix. Best to keep those things separate.”

“Yeah?” She reached her arm far back in her closet. “Levi plays.”

“It's woodsball. Totally different.”

“Whatever.” She pulled her head out of the closet, holding a pair of strappy silver heels. I shook my head no.

“So this is like your first real date?” she said.

My cheeks burned. “I've had dates,” I said.

“Okay. Then how about your first date with a boy who you actually seem to like.” She stuck her head back inside the closet. “I can't believe he went to yoga. I can't get my head around a boy doing hot yoga,” she said, her voice muffled.

“There're lots of guys in the classes,” I reminded her.

“I know. But a guy you're into? It seems, I don't know, kind of girly.” She emerged again, glancing at me. “Never mind. Sorry. My dad's influence.”

“Since when do you care what your dad thinks?”

She shook her head. “You're totally right. I can't believe he rubbed off.” She studied me. “You have a pair of cute black shorts, right?” I nodded. “Perfect,” she said. “Short shorts, my blouse, and these shoes and he'll be putty in your hands.” She dangled a different pair of heels on her finger.