Pieces of Us (22 page)

Kyle

Y
ou didn’t avoid her last week. Not really. You said hello, gave her a hug, played a game of Spit. Then Brett came and you watched her and Alex salivating over those chickens. You saw him sit too close. You saw him touch her knee. She never flinched. She used to flinch. Whenever he’d go near her, she’d scare. Repel. Not anymore. You’re not thinking she’s into him, not like
that
, but it’s something. And there was that moment, before the screams and the blood, where it seemed like the two of them fused together.

You wanted to ask Katie if she’d seen it, but she wasn’t looking at them. Just mouthing something with her lips. You think it may have been “listen.”

But you can’t keep (not) avoiding her, so you go where you know Julie will be, where she’s been every morning waiting for you but pretending she wasn’t. Sitting on the bench in front of her cottage, cards in hand, playing Solitaire. You see her glance up from her cards and see you and then look back down pretending she didn’t, trying not to smile. You don’t want to be that guy, that guy she has to play games with, the guy she has to retreat from.

“Hey,” you say, sitting down across from her. You reach for the cards, and she hands them to you.

“Hey.”

You shuffle. “Spit?”

Her mouth moves like she’s going to spit on the ground like she used to. Your mouth moves too. Neither of you do it. “Sure.”

“How’ve you been?”

Her eyes flash, hopeful, when you lead with this. “I’ve been. How about you?”

You shrug. “I’ve been better.”

“Yeah.” She takes the deck you hand her and places four cards on the bench. “Spit.”

Then you both look only at the cards. Hands flick one on top of another, faster and faster. Fingers grasp the cards from the palm and throw them on the bench and the center piles. She finishes first and grabs the smaller pile like this is the only mission she has. “In your face, yo!”

You laugh, but she says it too vehemently, like she would mash the cards into your skin if she could. Maybe your face shows this because she says softly, “Sorry.”

You put your hand on hers. She doesn’t move it away, but you swear she flinches.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” she asks.

You want to say you haven’t, but you’re not lying to her. “I was figuring things out.”

“And have you?”

“I think so.” You squeeze her hand.

“Good.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Can I tell you something without you getting mad?”

You nod, even though you know this will lead nowhere good.

She shuffles the cards and separates them into two piles. “I was scared about coming here.”

“Why?” You choose a pile.

“It was easier, without Katie at home and at school. Like nothing had happened.” She’s leaning forward like she’s telling you this huge secret, like she’s sharing this piece of herself, except—this isn’t really about her. But as you’ve noticed these last few months, everything is somehow about Julie.

You don’t want to hear this. “And how is it now?”

She shrugs. “I haven’t really talked to her. What’s there to say?”

“Your turn,” you say, motioning to the piles of cards.

She cocks her head like she’s expecting a bigger reaction from you. “You’re never really going to see it from my side, are you?” Her face contorts, her lip curls back. She looks nothing like the Julie you once knew. She looks mean, like her bite could kill.

“Why does there have to be a ‘side’? It’s not enough that I get you’re upset?”

She shuffles her pile of cards. “What do you and Katie talk about on the swings?”

You blink in surprise. She’s jealous. How did you not see this before? “You, of course.”

Her face goes back to normal. She smiles. “It would be cool if you could watch with me sometime.”

You pale. “The butchering? No thanks.”

She snorts. “I guess Alex and I have more balls than either of you.”

You put the cards back on the bench. She’s even talking like him. “I’ll see you later.”

She jumps up. “What the hell? Can’t you take a joke?”

You keep walking.

“Why do you have to be such a baby?” Her voice goes up an octave.

You hear her running behind you. Then she’s in front of you, making you look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she says. You can almost see the Julie that helped you breathe. “I don’t know why I said that. Please come back. Please?”

Her eyes tear, and they look like they used to—but not quite. “Please?” she says again.

You sigh and let her lead you back.

Alex

H
ow can I believe that she didn’t like giving that guy head? That she didn’t like one of them fucking her? How can I believe that, when she didn’t even struggle? When she just lay there? When her head bobbed up and down and her hand moved just so, just like she does it with me? And how, even after I bang her up a little, she keeps coming back, wanting to be with me? Wouldn’t that mean she liked it with them too?

Julie

I
hear the swings stop and know she’ll be in our room within minutes. I get into bed and turn out the light. The darkness makes me anxious, but at least I won’t have to see her when she comes in.

She turns on the light as soon as she enters, making that impossible. “Hi.”

I fake grogginess. “No, you didn’t wake me. Thanks for asking.”

She stares at me like she’s preparing a speech—I can’t tell if it’s one of prosecution or defense—then slightly shakes her head and sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice is tired, like those words drained the little energy she had left. I feel bad. “Forget it.”

She turns away from me and stares at the mirror, nudging her face against the glass and pulling at the skin under her eyes. Even in the dim lighting I can see a darkening there. My curiosity gets the best of me. “When was the last time you slept?”

“I sleep.”

Not much. I prop myself on an elbow. “It happened. It’s over. We should all move on.” I overheard Daddy saying this to Mama a few weeks ago when she was in her Katie-bashing mood. It sounds mature. I like feeling like the sensible adult.

Katie finally turns around to face me. “Really?” Her voice is full of fake cheer. “Is that how everyone feels? Well, by all means, let’s move on, Jules.”

She plops herself on my bed and pats me on my blanket-covered legs. “Let’s catch up, sweet sister of mine!” Her voice is octaves higher than normal. “What would you like to share with me? Hmm?”

“There’s nothing to share,” I mumble.

“No? How’s Kyle? Oh, that’s right. We can’t talk about him. He’s awful because he was willing to be my friend.”

His name from her mouth gives me hives. How do I explain that? It’s just another betrayal. Another boy choosing her over me.

“He likes you.” She stands up. “You can’t blame me for whatever is going on with you two.”

I turn away from her, and she turns off the lights and heads back outside, slamming the door behind her.

I want to follow her. I don’t want to follow her. What would I say? It was my fault the tape came out? I’m sorry, but hating you has become so easy that stopping would leave me empty?

Kyle

Y
ou pull the swing back, back, back, but no matter how far you go, you can’t block out the bloodbath by the lake houses.

“I’m done,” Katie says. “Where can we go to escape?”

If you had more balls, you’d take Alex’s car and go for a drive, but knight-on-a-horse has never been you. “I know just the place,” you say. You walk with her to the end of the lake house properties. You like to go there alone, far from the cottages, and hide out in a cloak of trees.

“And the irony,” you hear Katie saying, “is that they’re all males.”

“What? Who?”

“The chickens. I always thought they were girls, but no. I bet Alex doesn’t know.”

“There’s no way he’d watch if he did.”

“They castrate them before they’re killed, too. Or else a rush of testosterone fills their muscles when they’re slaughtered and the taste is changed.” She looks sick and fascinated at the same time.

“How do you know all this?” You’re almost by the trees.

“My old bio teacher, the one from the news? He was totally obsessed with poultry. Did his PhD in the field. The class was right after lunch. Lost a lot of weight that year.” She laughs.

“We’re here,” you say when you get to the clearing. You watch her face to see the reaction. It opens, all greenness gone.

“Wow, it’s better than the creek.”

This makes you proud and warm. Then she says, “Has Julie seen it?”

She hasn’t. Why have you never brought her here? “Not yet.”

“I won’t tell her I’ve been here, then.”

You stare at her. “She’d care?” But even as the words leave your mouth, you know the answer. Of course she would. So, again, why haven’t you asked her first? Was it just the timing? And now it’s too late?

“A lot,” says Katie. You can tell she’s thinking. Her fingers lace into each other, and then she sighs. “I can’t be here with you.”

She begins walking back, and you follow. You don’t talk as you head for the swings. The squawking is still going when you get closer to the cottages.

“I can’t take this,” she says.

You get one more idea. “Follow me.” You lead her to the road outside. Cars swoosh by quickly, and you crowd the small strip of pavement too close to the road. But here, you can’t hear anything but the cars. Drivers stick up their middle fingers and honk, but it’s heaven.

Katie smiles and closes her eyes.

Katie

T
he passing cars remind me of South Street. I stand here at night because it’s loudest. Sometimes Kyle is with me. I watched his face once, and he looked blank, but not in a bad way. Like the sounds erased everything in his head, and his body was just a placeholder for the real person inside. He saw me watching and turned his back to me. I didn’t look at him after that, but I liked that I saw that about him. It made me feel sad for him, but also less alone.

I’m staring at the lights as they whizz by. The energy fills the road and reaches my toes. SWOOSH, SWOOSH, SWOOSH. One car after another. I close my eyes and wonder what it would feel like to step in front of them. Would the energy surge through me and make me invincible again? Would it make the voices shouting
Whore, Bitch, Skank, Slut
disappear? Would Ethan and Chris stop haunting me forever, appearing everywhere I go?

The voices. The faces. They’re no longer a whisper. They’re full-on three dimensional. They’re loud and brazen. The first time they screamed was after Alex and I “made up.” Each day, they gain power. I listen to the sun, to the animals, to the moon, to the swings. I listen really hard, like Dedushka told me, but it’s not helping. Probably because I keep going back to Alex. They’re loudest with him.

But I need to keep going back, for the glimpses. Those glimpses of love I catch in his eyes. They might be there for only a split second, but they’re there. And I keep thinking, if I just stay with him longer, that love will grow to what it was. All I have to do is get it to the surface.

Until then, I keep returning to the cars. I think the lights and sounds make me stronger. Even if they don’t, they’re loud enough to keep the voices low.

Kyle

Y
ou listen for the screech of the swings. That’s how you know Alex is done with her and she’s there. Sometimes you find her by the cars, but she’s been saying they haven’t been enough anymore. She needs the swings, too. The worst nights are when the screeching goes on for hours, and you wonder what she’s thinking. Does she want him to come out and join her? He never does. Sometimes he’s in your room watching TV. Other times his car is gone and you can only assume he’s out finding new girls to fill the noise in his head left over from the screeching. Or is he over her already? The video proved his point, and he’s moved on? Even Alex is not like that. He wishes he could move on, but you think Katie has invaded his brain.

Tonight the swings cry louder than usual, later than usual. It’s cold outside, and you grab a sweatshirt for her because you’re sure she doesn’t have one with her. Julie nags your thoughts, but this isn’t betrayal. You’re just saving the weak. Julie doesn’t need saving.

You walk through the grass. It’s cold and wet and overdue for a mow. You watch her as you walk closer. Her legs push hard and fierce, and you can’t see her expression, but you can only assume it’s the same. When you’re almost beside her, she notices you and slows down. Her shoulders slump and there’s no fierceness at all. You sit beside her and absently move the sweatshirt between your fingers. It doesn’t seem that cold anymore.

She shivers. “Are you going to wear that?” She nods at the sweatshirt.

You shake your head no. “Good,” she says. “I’m freezing.” She takes the sweatshirt from your hands and pulls it over her head, her long-sleeved tee rising over her belly, revealing too-thin curves and fresh, blue bruises. As if remembering, she pulls the sweatshirt down quickly.

“It’s not polite to stare,” she says. She’s a different Katie than she was before the tape. Emptier. Or pretending to be.

She’s wearing capris, and you notice cuts and bruises above her ankles too. You wonder if there are more. She crosses her legs. “Stop it,” she says quietly.

“You have more?” You know she does. Another casualty of Alex. At least no one can see the bruises he gave you. They’re hidden within your flesh.

“Did he do that?”

She looks at them closer. “Me, him, I lost track. Just penance,” she says, and laughs a hollow laugh. Then she waves her hand, topic finished. She smiles. “What’s up with you and my sister?” She punches you lightly on the arm.

You shrug. “I should try harder with her.”

“That would be a good idea. She really likes you.”

And you? Sometimes you like her; sometimes her anger is so deep, you can smell it through her pores. “I’ll try.”

Katie nods and kicks at the dirt with her sneakers. “I should get going. Swinging together is not helping our cause.”

She gives you back your sweatshirt and you know better than to protest.

“See ya.”

“Wouldn’t want to be ya,” you say, evoking a childish phrase that you regret as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Her face darkens and she laughs. “Ain’t that the truth.”

You watch her kick at the grass as she makes her way to her cottage. Then you leave, too.