The Redemption of Callie and Kayden (10 page)

least I think that’s what happened.”

“So he just decided to go home to his mother and father.”

Seth lowers his hands down from the back of the booth and rests

his elbows on top of the table. “Why would he do that?”

I divide the half-eaten stack of pancakes as I prop my elbow

onto the table and rest my chin in my hand. “Maybe he’s not ready

to admit the truth aloud yet.”

“Are we speaking about you or him now?”

“I’m not sure.”

I continue to demolish my pancakes with my fork, trying to

figure out what could be going through Kayden’s head. If his dad

did it to him then maybe fear, but why would that make him afraid

of me? I think about the bandage on his wrist and the rubber

bands.

I drop the knife onto the table. “Seth, why would someone

have rubber bands on their wrist?”

He shrugs as the waitress walks up to the table with the bill.

He takes it from her and she smiles at him.

“Thanks for coming in.” She coils a strand of her blonde hair

around her finger as she chomps on her gum and tries to dazzle

him. “I hope you’ll come back.”

Seth shakes his head as he reaches his hand into his pocket

to get his wallet. “As much as I loved the pancakes, I probably

won’t be coming back.” It’s his attempt to politely turn the waitress down.

She pouts out her lip and takes the bill and Seth’s credit card

when he offers it to her. “Well, okay then.” She pierces me with a

death glare, and then stomps off in her bubblegum-pink pumps

and matching waitress uniform.

“You know, I’m starting to wonder about the female sex,”

Seth remarks as he sets his wallet down on the table. “Always

looking for love in the wrong places.”

“Am I included on that list?” I sip my orange juice and then

place the empty glass back on the table.

He rolls his eyes like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever

heard. “Absolutely not, darling. You just need a better way to

approach it.” He fiddles with his watch, twisting it around and

around as he watches the time. “Why did you ask that question

about the rubber bands?”

I circle my fingers around my wrist and rotate my arm.

“Because Kayden had a whole bunch on his wrist.”

Seth thrums his fingers on the table and then his brow knits.

He retrieves his phone from his pocket and runs his finger along

the screen before typing something in.

“What are you doing?” I ask, reaching for my purse.

He holds up a finger as he taps the screen. “Just a sec.”

I take out a few dollar bills and lay them on the table for a

tip, then drop my wallet back to my purse. I eye the waitress over

at the counter who’s whispering something to another waitress.

They both glance over and glare at me like I’m the devil.

“I think they think I’m your girlfriend,” I say, slumping down

in the chair.

Seth glances at them, then shrugs and starts reading the

screen again. “Then it was really wrong of her to hit on me.”

“I guess so.” I direct my attention to the flurry of snow

outside. It’s everywhere, white and crisp and completely innocent

looking as it shines under the sun. It’s a false innocence though,

because the icy roads here have caused many accidents and taken

many lives.

Seth slaps his hand down on the table and the ice in the

glass shakes as I jump, startled. “I knew it sounded familiar,” he

mutters. Shaking his head, he puts his phone down on the table. “I

know what the rubber bands are for.”

“What?” I sit up in my seat.

He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “It’s a

form of treatment used on cutters and people who self-mutilate.”

I already knew that Kayden might have hurt himself, but now

it seems real. I slip my hand out of Seth’s and fold my arms over

my stomach as I curl inward. “I don’t feel good.”

“Callie, it’ll be okay,” he reassures me and seeks my hand

again.

I recoil, shaking my head as I get to my feet. I feel the vile

burn in my stomach and it aches like a forming bruise. “I need to

use the restroom.” Before he can respond, I get up and run across

the café, bumping into one of the waitresses on my way there. I

knock her tray out of her hand and feel bad, but I don’t have time

to apologize.

As I run passed the counter, where Luke is sitting, I hear him

call out, “Callie… what’s wrong?”

I don’t respond. I need to get it out. Now. I need to get rid of

the vile feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I slam my hand against the door and fling it open. I run to

the nearest stall and collapse to my knees. I start to shove my

finger down my throat, when suddenly I see Kayden lying on the

floor. Helpless. He needs help. He needs someone who can help

him. It hits me hard, like a kick to the stomach, what I need to do.

Maybe I can change that wish I’m always dreaming about, the one

where I erase everything that happened to me on my twelfth

birthday. I might not be able to take away Kayden’s past pain, but

maybe I can help with his future pain. I just need to be strong. I

move my finger out from my mouth and it’s one of the hardest

things I’ve ever had to do. I’m shaking and sweating as I sit back

and lean against the wall, letting my head fall back. Then I just sit there. Not feeling better, but knowing it’s for the best.

#35 Walk, don’t run

Callie

Seth and I have been spending a lot of time at the café,

partly because Seth thinks we need to eat pancakes all the time

and partly because we’re avoiding eating breakfast at my house as

a result of my mother and Seth’s first meeting. It was nothing but

awkward right from the very beginning.

“It’s nice to meet you, Seth.” My mom stuck her hand out

and Seth politely shook it. She was wearing a white apron over a

floral dress, looking very 1960-ish. The kitchen smelled like

cinnamon and the pans hissed on top of the oven.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Seth let go of her hand and took

in the excessive amount of Christmas lights strung around the top

of the walls and the Santa and reindeer figurines all over the

shelves and counters. “You like to decorate, huh?”

My mother flipped the eggs in the pan, then picked up a

mixing bowl from the counter and began to whisk the batter. “Oh

yes, I love the holidays. They’re so much fun. What about you?”

Seth raised his eyebrows at her as he pulled out a chair at

the table. “Do I like the holidays? No, not really” He sat down and I joined him, reading the text I got from Luke.

Luke: Did you hear from him?

Me: No… have you?

Luke: No, I stopped by his house, though.

Me: Is he okay?

Luke: I don’t know. His brother answered and said he

hadn’t seen him. I think he was drunk, though.

Me: I texted him a couple of times. He never texts back.

Luke: I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably just working

through some stuff.

Working through some stuff? Alone. In that god-awful

house.

“Callie, did you hear me?”

I glanced up from my phone and my mother and Seth were

staring at me. “Huh?” I said.

Seth’s eyebrows dipped beneath the square-framed glasses

he was wearing, not to correct his vision but because they are

fashionable. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Who are you texting?” my mom asked, mixing the bowl with

a whisk.

I quickly locked the screen on my phone and set it down on

the table. “No one.”

My mother dropped the whisk on the counter and batter

splattered all over. “You were texting Kayden, weren’t you? I can’t

believe this, Callie. I told you I didn’t want you spending any time

with him after what happened—after what he did to Caleb.”

Seth looked at me with astonishment in his eyes and I

shrugged, shaking my head, trying not to cry. “It’s not Kayden,” I

told my mom again.

“Even if it was, I think Callie’s old enough to decide who she

wants to talk to,” Seth chimed in calmly. “In my opinion she is an

excellent judge of character.” He said it with an attitude and any

chance of my mother and him getting along fell apart right there.

“More than most people, who seem to miss the mark all the time.”

She didn’t fully understand the depth of his words, but his

snippy tone was enough for her to decide she didn’t like him,

something she told me later when she pulled me aside.

“He’s rude,” she said. “Does he talk to his own mother that

way?”

“He doesn’t talk to his mother,” I’d said and that was another

strike against him.

After that, I decided it’d be better to keep them separated,

because Seth wouldn’t keep quiet if my mother said something

ridiculous and my mother would never stop saying ridiculous

things.

* * *

I’ve been home for almost a week. Time seems to move in

slow motion. Each hour feels like days, and days like months.

Christmas is only four days away and my mom keeps trying to

make me spend time shopping and wrapping presents with her. I

do as much as I can, but every time she brings up Caleb, I bail. I

even took off during our trip to the mall and had to call Luke to

come pick me up.

“I’m not sure if I’m even hungry,” I tell Seth as I pour syrup

on the stack of pancakes in front of me. We’re in the café again,

enjoying the same light chitchat after a very uncomfortable

morning with my mom. “Six days in a row is putting me on

pancake overload.”

He butters his toast and then adds some strawberry jelly.

He’s wearing a blue shirt with a logo on the pocket and his hair is

still a little damp from the shower he took right before we left the

house. “Well, you don’t have to order pancakes every time,” he

says and sets the butter knife down on the table.

“Or maybe you should order me something different,” I

reply, grabbing some sugar packets from the bowl. Seth had taken

it upon himself to order for me while I was in the restroom, and I

wasn’t planning on ordering pancakes.

“I think we should eat pancakes every morning that we’re on

break.” He takes a bite of his toast. Crumbs fall to the front of his shirt and he dusts them off with a sweep of his hand. “It’ll be fun.”

I stare down at my pancakes buried in a puddle of syrup.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m always sure when I say something aloud.” He sets the

toast down on the smaller of the two plates.

I seal my lips and try not to laugh at him because Seth is

never sure of things, just like I’m not, just like most of the world

isn’t. “All right, we can try to eat pancakes everyday over break. But if I end up puking you have to promise to hold my hair back.”

“I promise.” He smiles and raises his hand in front of himself.

I slam my palm against his, giving him a high-five. For a moment

it’s just he and I in the café, maybe even in the world. But the bell on the door dings and my eyes instinctually wander over to it.

Suddenly, I remember that there are a lot more people in the

world who need to eat a lot of pancakes over Christmas break.

Kayden walks into the café and the few people at the tables

promptly look up at him. There have been rumors going around

about him throughout the small town, ones that are horrible. I

struggle not to hit every single person looking at him.

He has a coat on and there are snowflakes stuck in his wet

hair. He’s wearing an old pair of jeans with holes in them and black

boots on his feet. The Christmas lights that trim the windows

reflect in his eyes and make them look red instead of green. His

gaze sweeps the room but misses me, and then he walks up to the

counter where one of the older waitresses with gray hair and a

hairnet greets him at the register.

“Callie, what are you staring at?” Seth’s tracks my gaze and

then his eyes bulge. “Oh.”

It’s like my feet don’t belong to me as I bend my knees and

stand up from the booth. As soon as I’m on my feet, Kayden’s eyes

lock on me. We stare at each other from across the café and the

tables and chairs and people blur away. He crosses his arms over

his chest and presses his lips together before shaking his head. He

looks away as the waitress hands him a plastic to-go bag. I’m not

sure what it means, but I need to talk to him.

“I’ll be right back,” I say and start to step away as Kayden

pays the waitress.

Seth catches my sleeve and draws me back a little bit. “Be

careful, Callie.”

I nod, even though I’m not sure if he means to be careful for

Kayden or myself. He releases my sleeve and I weave around the

tables, tucking my elbows in. Kayden is putting his wallet into his

back pocket when I reach him and the plastic bag is hooked over

his hand. His jaw tenses as he grabs some napkins from the

metallic dispenser near the register without looking up at me.

“Hi,” I say, and again I’m frustrated with myself for such a silly

start.

“Hey,” he mutters, shoving the napkins into the sack.

“I just… I just wanted to come over and see how you’re