The Reaping (7 page)

“But I thought you liked Johnny Depp,” Dina was saying to Leah.  “I wouldn’t have rented it if I’d known that.”

“I do, Mom.  I just really wanted to watch something funny.  And you know how much I love Adam Sandler.”

“What do you think, Carson?”  Dina turned her cornflower eyes to me.   “You get the tiebreaker vote.  Do I go back to the video store?” 

Before I could answer, Leah’s father, Bruce, spoke up.  “I say we save Johnny Depp for the weekend.  Derek might like that kind of thing.”

That got everyone’s attention.  All eyes were on Bruce.

“Derek?”  Something in Leah’s tone made me look her way.  “As in Derek, the family felon?”

In the nearly two years I’d known Leah, I’d never heard any of them mention a cousin named Derek, but the look on her face left me in no question as to where he stood in her affections.

“Leah,” Mr. Kirby said, a frown darkening his normally jovial Greek features.  His tone was rife with warning.

The tension in the room was palpable.  Finally Leah asked stiffly, “When’s he coming?”

“Probably Friday.  Maybe Thursday night.  He wasn’t sure.”

“Bruce, do you think—” Dina began, but Mr. Kirby cut her off.

“He’s family,” he said tersely, his tone brooking no further comment.  Then he looked back at Leah.  “Leah, do I need to remind you that he’s—“

“No, Dad,” Leah interrupted, rolling her eyes in exasperation.  “I know, I know.”

“Good,” he replied with a satisfied nod.  “So, we wait on the movies.  Carson, would you like to come for movie night, say Saturday?”

I swallowed uncomfortably, looking down at my plate and stabbing a piece of pot roast with my fork.  “I, uh, I’ll have to ask Dad.  I’ll try, though.”

Mr. Kirby seemed satisfied with that and I prayed that would be the end of it.  Though I was curious about the “family felon”, I was distinctly uncomfortable with the strain that had settled over the room.  I just wanted them to change the subject. 

Mrs. Kirby turned the conversation toward a show choir song she and Leah had seen performed on Glee, a topic I knew nothing about.  I was more than happy to ask questions, however, to keep from returning to the subject of Derek.

Within a few minutes, the atmosphere had calmed considerably and I was able to finish eating then move on to an enjoyable dessert.  Dina Kirby fixed one of the best pineapple upside down cakes in the world so it wasn’t at all difficult to scarf down two pieces. 

After refusing help with the clean up, Mrs. Kirby made her way to the kitchen.  A few minutes of sharply clanging pans and dishes later, Mr. Kirby rose to follow her.  It wasn’t long before we heard hushed yet markedly hostile whispers coming from the next room. 

Though I wondered about the mysterious Derek, I didn’t get the impression Leah really felt like talking so I said my goodbyes and hurried home.  I had enough of an uncomfortable situation awaiting me there; I didn’t need anyone else’s family drama thrown into the mix.

********

The next morning, I was absolutely exhausted.  I had spent another night dreaming of bloody snow and a handsome stranger who I thought might like to hurt me.  At the same point in each dream, I’d wake up gasping for air, terrified.  By the third time, I was unwilling to go back to sleep so I got up and worked on my science fair project for a couple hours before getting ready for school.  All in all, by the time I met Leah, I looked and felt like the walking dead.

Silently, she fell in beside me.  We walked several steps before she spoke.  “You know if there’s anything you want to talk about, I keep great secrets.” 

So that was her strategy after yesterday morning’s shutdown.  I felt guilt over my rudeness rise to the surface once more.

“Thanks, Leah.  I’ve just got a lot going on right now.  Nothing I’d want to bother you with, though.” 

She made no response.  She just kept walking with her head down, staring at her shoes. 

“I really appreciate the offer, though.  Really.  And I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Finally, she looked over at me and smiled, a tiny, watery little smile.  My guilt rose.  What kind of monster could hurt such a person as Leah?

“Maybe I should be offering to keep
your
secrets,” I said with a grin, reaching out to poke her with my elbow.  She made no move to acknowledge my offer so I stopped.  Then she stopped.  “Seriously.  If you want to talk…”

Leah shook her head, but didn’t bother looking up.  Something was eating at her as well, but she wasn’t spilling. 

She started walking again and I fell in beside her.  We walked the rest of the way like that, each lost in our own thoughts.  We parted at the school’s front doors as we always did.

I stumbled my way through the day, doing my best to keep a low profile and ignore…well
everybody. 
I never would’ve guessed that to include Stephen Fitchco, but it did.  He seemed determined to find me by myself, but all day I managed to avoid him.  When the sixth period bell rang, I was out of my seat and out the door faster than you could say spit.

Leah and I met up at our usual spot just outside the school grounds.  I noticed instantly that she looked better.  Her secrets obviously hadn’t burdened her
too
badly.

It only took a few short minutes for her to strike up conversation.  Something  about an extracurricular project she’d been working on with our physics instructor, capturing wind and something about velocity, blah, blah, blah.  She lost me after that.  Once again, I retreated into the sanctuary of my mind, which I so often did when Leah and I were together. 

Leah was an incredibly intelligent overachiever, which unfortunately made her a social pariah.  It’s one of the things that made our friendship work.  She valued someone her own age who would listen to her incessant scholastic chatter and I needed someone who could keep themselves occupied while I stayed inside my own head.  Ours was a completely symbiotic relationship, but over time, I’d really come to like Leah.  Occasionally she’d shock me with some witty comment or funny observation that gave me a rare insight into the treasure that she really is.

A name I recognized brought me back to the moment.  “Do what?”

Leah was never surprised when I asked her to repeat something.  I think she had a rough idea of how often I zoned out.  “What part didn’t you get?”  I knew she was asking just to be difficult.

“Did you mean Stephen Fitchco?”  I knew I’d heard her say Stephen.

“Yes.”  She wasn’t going to make this easy.

“And?”

“That’s why Ryan wanted to know.”

“Wanted to know what?”

“Carson!  Weren’t you listening at all?”

“Apparently not.  I’ve got a lot on my mind.  Just tell me again.”

And in true Leah style, with only a sigh to convey her frustration, she repeated her entire story.  “Ryan Phillips came to my locker between fourth and fifth period and asked me what was going on between you and Stephen Fitchco.  I told him I didn’t know then he told me what had happened in the cafeteria.  When I asked him why he wanted to know, he said Bobby Warren was interested in you and wanted him to find out if you and Stephen had a thing.”

As I suspected, everyone in school knew about what I’d done.  My feet, which already felt heavy because I was so tired, suddenly felt leaden, dread weighing them down.  “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him I didn’t think so.”  Leah stopped and looked at me questioningly.  “You don’t, do you?”

“No!”

“So then what was all that about in the cafeteria?”

I told Leah about my near miss with Stephen’s car and how he’d approached me under the guise of seeing if I was alright then dropped me some cheesy pick up lines.  Her eyes were as big as saucers by the time I concluded my story.  To Leah, it was as juicy as any Gossip Girl episode, poor thing.  Sadly, it had been a pretty significant occurrence in my own life as well.  It was a depressing testament to how lacking our social lives really were. 

“Alright, now remind me again why this is all such a big deal?”  As if it weren’t obvious.

“Because Ryan ended up asking me out, silly.”

Oh.  I guess it wasn’t that obvious.

All her bubbling excitement had little to do with me and my life; Leah was making headway of her own.

Leah had been nurturing a serious crush on Ryan Phillips since I’d known her, but Ryan had never given her the time of day.  Though Ryan wasn’t a jock, he was widely accepted among them, mainly because Bobby Warren was his cousin.  And Bobby
was
a jock, a copper-haired hottie who played wide receiver, dominated the wrestling mat and dated the co-captain of the cheerleading squad.  Yeah, it’s one of
those
kinds of schools.

“What?”  I couldn’t hide my surprise or my delight.  “Shut up!”

Leah was smiling widely, nearly aglow with the new development.  “I’m serious.”

“What did you say?”

“Duh.  I said ‘yes’.”

“So give me details.  When?  Where?”

“He invited me to a lake party this weekend.”

A lake party? 
My dream
kind of lake party?  The ones she’d never shown the slightest interest in because they didn’t involve advanced mathematics? 

The initial sting of envy quickly subsided, replaced by genuine pleasure for my friend.  I had to smile; I’d never seen Leah this happy over a Mathletes championship before.  She’d obviously realized that a shiny, gold trophy doesn’t have warm, sexy lips.  But Ryan does.

Welcome to my world,
I thought.

“That’s awesome, Leah,” I said sincerely.  I was glad one of us would get to live something similar to a full life.

For the first time in our relationship, Leah and I were having a lively conversation that had captured both our attention.  On the way home, I learned several things: the party is Friday night and she has nothing to wear; she trusts my fashion savvy enough to help her shop; she secretly looks forward to her first real kiss every bit as much as I do; she sweats down her back when she gets nervous; and she has an entire personality, one she keeps well hidden, that I’ve never seen before. 

We were laughing like giddy school girls by the time we reached her mailbox.  On the way home, it occurred to me that we should’ve been having these types of conversations all this time.  I guess we were more abnormal than I’d originally thought.

My good mood hung in there through homework and supper preparation.  It began to sag a little during the quietly uncomfortable meal I shared with Dad, but it perked back up within minutes of my feet hitting the pavement for my run.

When I got back, my mood was further preserved by a call from Leah, asking if I’d go with her and her mom to the mall tomorrow night to look for a new outfit.  With only a moment’s hesitation, I said yes.  Dad was sitting at the kitchen bar during the entire conversation, but he didn’t say a word.

“That was Leah,” I offered.  He nodded, but said nothing.  “She wants me to go shopping with her tomorrow night.”  Still, he remained silent.  “I told her I’d go.”  He nodded again.

With a shrug, I turned to walk back to my room when Dad finally spoke.  “Thanks for letting me know, butterfly.”  The soft, pitiful way he said butterfly pinched at my heart.  But I steeled myself, ignoring it.  I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.