Life Unaware (Entangled Teen) (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

I popped the last bite of my third chicken taco in my mouth, chewing as Mom droned on and on about some new tax bill. As my eyes glazed over and the table around me fell out of focus, I wondered if it were possible to fall into a coma from boredom—or at the very least pass out.

When the doorbell rang, Mom frowned and set her fork on her plate. “Were you expecting anyone, Steven?”

Dad set his napkin aside and stood. “No. Not unless it’s Frank returning the edger, but I thought he was going to keep it through the week.”

Her frown deepened. As a public figure, unannounced visitors were seldom good things. Despite having an unlisted address, we’d had to call the police more than once to remove lunatics from our porch. Only this time, I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly who the lunatic in question was.

I pushed my chair back so suddenly, it squealed against the hardwood. Both Mom and Dad turned to me with startled expressions. “I’ll get it.” I jumped to my feet.

“Like hell you will,” Mom called after me. “We have no idea who’s out there—it could be another crazy person.”

Well, she’s half right.

“I’ll check it out.” Dad motioned me back with a wave.

Mom stood and then walked to his side. A noose pulled tight around my chest. If it was Nolan outside, I hoped the inquisition he was about to suffer wouldn’t scare him off. I wanted to follow my parents into the foyer, to signal Nolan to run for it, but fear froze me in place.

My parents’ footsteps stopped. Mom asked, “Who is it?” in her version of a whisper, which was really a loud hiss, since she only had one volume—loud.

After a pause, Dad answered, “It’s Payton and…is that her brother?”

“Let them in, Steven.” Mom’s voice was a mixture of relief and annoyance. “Regan, your friends are here to see you.”

I only hoped that was true. I knew Nolan and Blake were going to work on editing my video after school, but he also mentioned talking to my mom. I couldn’t imagine a single scenario where that idea was a good one. “Coming.” Dread tightened my muscles as I entered the foyer.

The heavy wooden door gasped when Dad pulled it open. “Payton,” he said warmly, “so nice to see you.” He nodded at Nolan. “Are you kids working on a school project or something?”

Payton stood between my parents, all smiles. “Not tonight, Mr. Flay.” She was practically bouncing on her toes.

Nolan crossed the threshold and joined his sister. He still wore his uniform. And, for the first time ever, his shirttails were tucked in. I couldn’t care less what he wore, but the way my mother stared at his unruly hair and scuffed sneakers, I knew he needed every advantage he could get.

Dad, thankfully, wasn’t half as rude. His appraisal showed more curiosity than anything. “You’re Payton’s brother, right?” He snapped his fingers several times in thought. “Nolan?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Dad beamed, clearly pleased his efforts to improve his memory with sudoku were paying off. “So what are you kids up to?”

“Actually, sir,” Nolan replied, “I was hoping for a couple minutes of your wife’s time.” He turned to my mother. “I have a project I would love to discuss with you.”

Mom’s face smoothed into the unreadable mask she perfected as a politician. I knew that look. She had no idea what was going on, and there was nothing she hated more than to be caught unprepared.

Dad, on the other hand, swept his hand back, inviting Payton and Nolan farther inside the house. “By all means.” He glanced at me over his shoulder and gave me a questioning look. I quickly dropped my gaze to the floor. I didn’t want any part of the massacre about to take place.

My father led the way into the sitting room. He gestured Nolan and Payton to the plush sofa in the middle of the room. Dad sat in the love seat angled to the right of it while Mom stood beside him.

I followed them as far as the doorway, but I couldn’t bring myself to enter. My heart pounded a frenzied beat against my ribs. My pills were just upstairs. I wondered if I could make it up the steps without passing out and falling to my death—though that might not be such a bad alternative to the current situation.

Nolan, as if sensing my panic, gave me a reassuring smile. Almost immediately, my heartbeat softened.

Mom, who hadn’t taken her eyes off of him since he stepped through the door, tilted her head in hawklike observance at the gesture. The corners of her mouth twitched downward, the only sign of her breaking mask.

Payton sniggered under her breath. I shot her the most deadly look I could muster, but she just laughed harder.

Dad, the only person sitting, looked at Mom and patted the cushion beside him. “Why don’t you take a seat, dear?”

She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “I’d rather stand. That couch isn’t good for my back.”

I mentally rolled my eyes. There was nothing wrong with her back. Her refusal to sit was part of her power play. Since she had no control of the situation, she was going to snag whatever footing she could. At the moment, all she had to hold on to was the psychological advantage of towering over everyone. It was the same reason she had a footstool placed behind her lectern at all of her public speaking events.

She drummed her fingers along the back of the love seat and gestured to the couch. “Please everyone, take a seat and then we can begin.”

Payton headed for the couch when Nolan caught her arm. “Actually, Mrs. Flay, I was hoping to discuss this with you in private. This project, while your daughter’s idea, is kind of a surprise.”

Payton stuck out her lip and pouted while Mom arched an eyebrow.

“Fair enough.” Dad rose from the love seat. “Come on, girls. I’ve got a cheesecake in the refrigerator with our names on it.”

Payton’s pout melted into a smile. “Sweet.” She bounded after Dad as he left the room for the kitchen. She paused in the entryway to the dining room and looked back at me over her shoulder. “You coming?”

“Yeah.” I glanced back into the sitting room at Mom and Nolan, who both watched me expectantly.

“Well, go on, Regan,” Mom said, shooing me away. “Just be careful with the cheesecake. It’s an election year, and the camera adds ten pounds.”

I frowned before stepping away.

“Wait,” she called.

I paused.

Mom motioned to the double French doors. “A little privacy, please?”

With a sigh, I pulled the doors shut. I turned for the kitchen, but not before I heard the muffled voice of my mother asking what this was all about.

From the hallway, Payton motioned me to hurry. The last thing I heard before I followed her into the kitchen was Nolan’s reply.

“It’s about the old grade school on Third Street that’s about to be torn down,” he answered. “I wondered if you could get me access to the bathroom stall doors before it’s demolished.”

An hour later, Payton and I sat at the kitchen bar, polishing off our cheesecake while Dad tried to convince us the perfect accompaniment for the dessert was a scoop of ice cream.

Payton giggled. “Sorry, Mr. Flay. I have to be able to fit into my cheerleading skirt.”

“Regan?” He arched an eyebrow suggestively.

“No thanks, Dad.” While I didn’t have a cheerleading skirt to worry about fitting into, after three tacos and cheesecake, I didn’t have room in my stomach for another bite.

“Suit yourself.” Dad opened the door to the basement where the deep freezer held his stash of ice cream. “I’ll be right back.”

Once he descended the steps, I turned to Payton and asked the question that had been on my mind for the last hour. “Why does Nolan want a bunch of used bathroom stalls?”

Payton stopped licking her fork and wrinkled her nose. “Gross. Is that really what he wants?”

I shrugged. “I heard him ask my mom about it before we left for the kitchen.”

“Ew.” She set her fork on her empty plate and pushed it to the far end of the bar. “He is a freak, after all. There’s no telling how his mind works.”

Nolan was really interested when I told him about the bathroom graffiti. I could only guess he wanted to make a statement somehow—but in what capacity? I chewed on my thumbnail and glanced at the clock. “What do you think is taking so long?”

She smirked. “You know how your mother is. She probably murdered him, and now, she’s cleaning up the scene of the crime to make it look like an accident.”

“That is
not
funny.” Partly because I could almost believe it. “Do you think I should go in there?”

“And become victim number two? I wouldn’t.”

I drummed my fingers on the counter as I debated what to do. Before I’d made up my mind, I heard the crack of the French doors opening, followed by the sound of my mother’s heels.

I jerked upright, every muscle in my body tense and rigid as she walked into the kitchen with Nolan following close behind. Both of them were smiling.

Payton and I exchanged confused glances.

“C’mon, Payton.” Nolan waved her toward the door. “We should get going. It’s getting late.”

“Wait.” I jumped off my stool. “You guys were talking forever. Isn’t anyone going to fill me in on what’s going on?”

“What’s going on,” Mom said, gliding up to me, “is you and this young man have an incredible idea that I’m more than happy to assist with. Bullying is such a hot-button issue, and of course I’m eager to help with any program that promotes education and helps prevent it.” She patted my shoulder, and my mouth fell open from shock. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d given me an encouraging word, let alone touch. “I’m proud of you.” She gave me one last pat before looking at Nolan. “I’ll call my aide tomorrow and get her working on the details. Of course we’ll want the press alerted.”

He grinned. “Of course.”

“Well then, we’ll be in touch.” Mom crossed the room to the opposite door. “I’m going to retire early, as I have a lot of work to do tomorrow. You do, too.” She nodded at him.

“Talk to you soon,” he said.

Mom smiled and left the room.

I leaned against the counter, blinking, trying to make sense of what just happened. Only one explanation came to mind. “You drugged my mother.”

Nolan laughed. “I promise you I didn’t.”

“She was smiling,” Payton said. “She never smiles.”

“That’s proof.” I nodded.

Nolan made a face before waving Payton over. “While I hate to interrupt this very important summit meeting of the drama queens, I left Blake at the house editing all by herself. She’s probably wondering where the heck I am.” He directed his attention to me. “When I left, the video was looking really good. It should be ready for tomorrow. Are you?”

“I…um…” In less than thirteen hours, I’d have no more secrets. The thought wedged a jagged lump inside my throat. The Regan I’d fought to hide from everyone was coming out for good. I sucked in a shaky breath. “I am.”

Nolan wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. The smell of citrus and pine enveloped me as the warmth of him seeped into my skin. Slowly, my throat relaxed and the lump disappeared. “You’re amazing,” he whispered against the top of my head.

Payton made a gagging noise. “Get a room,” she groaned.

Nolan’s hands released me, and it took all of my strength not to reach for him as he did. He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine. “I’ll see you tomorrow before class, okay?”

“Okay.”

He slid a hand to the back of my head, and I arched my neck in response. The kiss was quick, thanks to the show Payton made of pretending to vomit, but it warmed my insides nonetheless.

He released me and followed Payton to the kitchen door. He hesitated in the doorway, pointing a finger at me. “Tomorrow,” he said and winked.

I forced a smile. “Tomorrow,” I echoed, the word swirling inside my head.

Tomorrow.

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, I pulled into my parking spot several minutes before the warning bell was supposed to sound. Worry zipped through my stomach like a swarm of hornets, keeping me from grabbing my usual morning latte. I pulled the key from the ignition with quivering fingers. I glanced at my purse where I’d stashed my pills. Maybe I could take just one…

No.
I shook the thought away. Today was too important to hide behind a pill.

There was a rap on my window, and I let out a surprised squeak. Turning, I found Nolan outside my door with his camera open and recording. “How’s my star feeling today?”

“I’d feel a lot better if you turned off your camera.”

He smiled. “Can’t. This footage is necessary for the documentary I’m making on our project.”

“The bathroom stall project.”

“That’s right.”

“The one you won’t give me any details about.”

He adjusted the lens. “And ruin the surprise? I wouldn’t dream of it. Now come on. You’re going to have to hurry or we’re going to be late. You don’t want to miss phase one of our plan, do you?”

“Actually…” I pretended to put the keys back in the ignition.

“Very funny.” He motioned me to get out. “C’mon.”

I rolled my eyes and climbed out of the car. He backed away, filming every move I made.

“How are you feeling?” he asked again. “Nervous? Excited?”

I tightened my hold on the backpack. “All of the above.”

“What are you hoping to accomplish with this video?”

I paused and considered the question. “I really want people to know I’ve changed.”

“How so?”

“Well…” I licked my lips. “There’s this game you have to play if you want to be popular. The score is tallied in texts, Facebook posts, bathroom graffiti, and tears. The more hurt you inflict, the more you get ahead. It’s all about staying one step in front of your opponents. But here’s the thing I didn’t realize until it was too late: you can play this game for months, years even, and never win because everyone who plays the game is automatically a loser. I don’t want to play the game anymore. And I’m sorry I ever did.”

Nolan lowered his camera. “That was perfect. I stand by what I said yesterday—you’re amazing.”

My cheeks flushed hot. “Before you pile on the compliments too thick, let’s see if I can actually walk inside the school building.” I glanced at the doors, and my throat went tight just thinking about the video and the students inside who still hated me—who might always hate me.

“Of course you’re going to make it inside.” He tucked his camera inside his backpack before crouching down in front of me. “I’ll be your chauffeur.”

I clapped my hands together. “Seriously?”

He jutted his chin over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

Giggling, I hopped onto his back and wrapped my arms around his neck. He secured my legs with his arms, stood, and strode toward the entrance. “You’re crazy,” I told him.

He was quiet a moment. When he finally answered, his voice was devoid of its previous humor. “About you.” The warning bell rang. He pulled the door open and stepped inside.

The hornets inside my stomach transformed into hummingbirds that immediately took flight. Who knew that amid the worst moment of my life something so good could happen?

“Where to?” he asked.

After I gave him the room number for my homeroom, I rested my chin on his shoulder as he carried me through the mostly empty halls.

Outside my classroom, he crouched down and I slid off his back. “You’re going to be late,” I said.

He leaned down and kissed me, a quick brush of lips, but enough to set my skin on fire. He leaned back and smiled. “Totally worth it.”

Stray tendrils of his hair fell across his forehead. I reached up and pushed them behind his ear. “It’s so funny, isn’t it? I never would have thought you and I would ever be…” I let the words dangle in the air between us, because I wasn’t quite sure what we were. So maybe it was best not to put a label on it. I shrugged. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad Amber tried to ruin my life. If she hadn’t, you and I would never have happened.”

The smile left his face and he swallowed. “I’m glad about you and me, too. But—” The late bell rang, cutting him off. He cursed under his breath and took my hands. “Listen, Regan, I really like you, which is why…before I got to know you—the
real
you—I did something really stupid. And I wanted to tell you the night we filmed your apology, but I panicked because I thought you might hate me. I just—”

“Ms. Flay.” Mrs. Murphy, my homeroom teacher, suddenly appeared in the doorway. “You’re late. Please get inside and take a seat. You can socialize with your boyfriend later.” Her words were met with giggles from inside the classroom.

An embarrassed flush burned up my neck, and I gently slipped my hands out of Nolan’s. “Sorry, Mrs. Murphy.” I looked at Nolan. “We’ll talk later?”

He nodded, though he didn’t look happy about it. “We will. It’s important.”

Mrs. Murphy pointed toward the hall. “To class, Nolan.”

With a nod, he set off in the opposite direction. He paused once to look at me over his shoulder. Something passed through his eyes. Fear? Remorse? I couldn’t be sure because it was gone as soon as it arrived.

I wanted to call out to him, but Mrs. Murphy placed a hand on my back and steered me inside the room. I thought about what he’d said as I took my seat.
I did something really stupid.
I slid my backpack between the legs of my chair and sat. What stupid thing could he have done? Obviously we both said some really awful things about each other before—surely he didn’t think I’d hold him accountable for that.

Mrs. Murphy took attendance, and I raised my hand when she called my name. When she finished, she switched on the television mounted on the wall.

My heart seized. I’d been so busy thinking about Nolan, I’d completely forgotten about my video confessional, which would be played in a matter of moments. I curled my fingers around my desk and watched seniors Natalie and Dan, the journalism club’s morning anchors, rattle off various sports scores and announcements at a card table decorated with poster board to give it the appearance of a news desk.

The wall clock’s second hand ticking away drowned out all sound except for the pulse beating inside my head. In mere minutes, everything would change.

Natalie picked up several sheets of papers and stacked them in front of her. “With Ian Riley injured, we have to wonder what chance our wrestling team has this year of making state.”

“It doesn’t look good,” Dan agreed with a frown. He swiveled in his seat as the camera zoomed in on his face. “That’s all for the morning announcements, but please stay tuned. In light of the upcoming Bullying Awareness Week, our producer and president of the broadcasting club, senior Blake Mitchell, has a special presentation.”

This is it.
Fear squeezed my lungs so each breath was a ragged gasp. But beneath the threads of fear pulling across my chest was something else. A niggle of unease fluttered through me beyond the fact I was about to bear my soul to the entire school. I couldn’t help but wonder about the timing of the whole situation. What were the odds all this happened before Bullying Awareness Week?

The camera panned out. Both Dan and Natalie stood and walked off camera. A second later, Blake appeared onscreen and took a seat at the abandoned desk. She licked her lips and fidgeted in her seat before looking at the camera. “Good morning,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Blake Mitchell and I’m a senior here at Saint Mary’s. My best friend, a girl by the name of Jordan Harrison, was supposed to be here with me enjoying the best year of her life. But she’s not because of the bullying she suffered here at
this
school.”

My gut clenched as wave after wave of nausea washed over me. Something wasn’t right. Why was she bringing up Jordan
now
before she was supposed to show my video?

Blake placed her hands on the desk and laced her fingers together. “The video I’m about to play is a documentary I filmed with my friend Nolan Letner. We came up with the idea after Jordan was bullied nearly to death. We wanted to show Jordan’s bullies what it was like to spend a day in her shoes. We’ve titled the project
Life Unaware.
”

What the hell was going on? All around me, students stopped doodling in their notebooks and leaned forward in their seats, clearly curious as to what was about to happen. Even Mrs. Murphy had set her iPad aside in order to swivel her desk chair for a better view of the television monitor.

The screen went dark as a piano played a low melody. The words
Life Unaware
flashed on the screen as if being typed by a keyboard, only to disappear one letter at a time.

A two-story brick house appeared on screen. It looked like any house in any middle-class neighborhood. Bushes with pink flowers lined the porch, and the grass was several days past needing to be mowed. A metal mailbox painted to look like a cow stood at an angle at the edge of the yard.

“May, last year,” Nolan’s voice narrated. At the sound of it, so unexpected, I jerked back in my seat. “Things had been rough before then, but I never knew how bad they had gotten until then. I take some of the blame. I was her boyfriend, so shouldn’t I have known? Shouldn’t I have done something?”

I held my breath. Had Nolan intended for this video to be shown? A tremor of fear wound down my spine.

The scene switched to a closed door. Whoever held the camera—Nolan, I assumed—tried to twist the knob, but it wouldn’t move. “C’mon, Jordan.” Nolan’s voice was no longer narrating but recorded in the scene. “If we don’t leave now we’re going to lose our reservation. You’ve been so down lately I really want to do something special for your birthday. I have the camera recording so you really have no choice but to come out with a smile on your face.”

There was a pause, followed by a muffled reply. “I’m not coming out.” Sobs punctuated her words.

“Jordan?” The humor vanished from Nolan’s voice. “What’s the matter?” He tried the handle again, jiggling it several more times. “Are you okay? Let me in.”

“Go away,” she moaned.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Her voice was barely audible. “Nothing will ever matter again.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Nolan asked.

She didn’t answer.

“What the f—k, Jordan?” “Fuck” had been bleeped out, but enough of it remained to come through. Fear laced Nolan’s voice. “This isn’t funny. I swear to God if you don’t open the door, I will break it down.”

No reply.

Mrs. Murphy leaned forward in her chair. She reached for the remote, even pointed it at the television, but she never hit the power button. It was apparent she was held captive by the video in the same way I was.

“F—k,” Nolan said. “F—k, f—k, f—k.” The camera jostled as it was set on something undeterminable due to the angle. Nolan appeared in front of the door a second later. His hair was streaked blue—the color it was all last year. He braced his shoulder against the door, as if testing its strength. His eyes were wide with panic. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you, Jordan. Open up or I’m coming in.”

Silence answered him.

He muttered something under his breath, pulled away from the door, and rammed it with his shoulder. The door made an awful crack and bowed in, but it didn’t open completely. The frame beside the handle had snapped so the door gaped several inches but still held on.

Nolan rammed it a second time, snapping the frame completely. The door swung wide and struck a boot on the other side with a dull thud. When the shoe didn’t budge, it was then I realized it was still being worn.

Nolan ran into the room only to jerk back. “Oh my God, Jordan. What have you done? Is that…bleach?” He fell to his knees beside Jordan’s unmoving legs. The rest of her body remained hidden by the door. Nolan reached for her and her legs jerked from the force of being shaken. “Did you drink this, Jordan? Damn it, answer me.”

She said something, but it was too low to be heard on camera.

He released her and pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

“I’m calling 911.” The screen blurred and faded to black.

My lungs burned, and I realized I’d been holding my breath since the moment Nolan broke down the door. I exhaled loudly and several people around me did the same.

A second later, Nolan appeared onscreen, sitting on the very stool in his room I’d sat on a few days ago. He’d used the green screen to make it look like he was sitting in between a set of railroad tracks in the middle of a field.

“After having her stomach pumped and suffering minor intestinal damage, Jordan survived her suicide attempt. We’d been dating for more than a year when she broke up with me as soon as she got out of the hospital. She never forgave me for saving her life. Because of her ongoing battle with depression, her parents pulled her out of school so she could get the help she needs.” Nolan disappeared, replaced by an image of the city’s hospital.

The railroad tracks returned, only this time it was Blake sitting on the stool. “Jordan was my best friend since kindergarten. Up until high school, she was this bubbly, perpetually happy person. She would never have tried to kill herself if she wasn’t being tortured on a daily basis.” A flush burned up Blake’s cheeks and tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t know how bad it was.” Her voice cracked. “And I guess that made me a really shitty friend because things must have been pretty bad for her to think the
only
way out was death.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away with her hands. Her gaze shifted beyond the camera. “I need a break.” The screen faded to black.

Seconds later, Blake reappeared on the stool, her face no longer red and the tears gone. “Jordan Harrison tried to kill herself because of the torment she endured at school from bullies. She nearly died, may have permanent intestinal damage as well as psychological scarring from what was done to her. Her bullies, however, have suffered no repercussions from their actions. They get to continue to live their lives as they always have, hurting people, making them
suffer,
with no thought to the consequences of the pain they inflict.”