Torch Red: Color Me Torn with Bonus Content (24 page)

Okay, it’s no big deal that my parents got divorced when I was in grade school. I mean that happens to lots of kids. And eventually you get over it. And never mind that my older brother, Jonathan, is probably using drugs and my mom is totally oblivious. I mean he hardly ever comes home anyway. Although every time he does come home, something valuable goes missing. Last time he took my CD player. I now have a deadbolt lock on my bedroom door. But he’s not really the problem either.

Okay, it bugs me that my mom doesn’t really seem to notice these things lately. And even if I try to tell her, she’s so preoccupied with her
own life
that she doesn’t really listen. Oh, she pretends to listen, but you can tell by that glazed-over, dreamy look in her eye that she’s off in La-La Land thinking about
Bradley
. Stupid, moronic Bradley Finch! Man, I wish she’d never met this loser dude from her
job at the telephone company. They’ve only been dating a couple of weeks now, but it’s like he’s launched her into this ridiculous middle-aged pursuit of youth and superficiality that is not only totally embarrassing (I mean you should see what she’s wearing these days!) but it’s completely ruining my life. I mean talk about a train wreck! And it doesn’t help anything that Bradley is in his twenties (he won’t even tell us his real age) or that my mom is forty-three (which she won’t admit to Bradley). She even told him that she’d had her kids when she was “just a kid” herself. Which is totally bogus, not to mention lame. But it’s like she suddenly thinks she’s Demi Moore and he’s Ashton Kutcher and they are like the hottest couple in town. Give me a break!

At first, I told myself to just chill, that this whole thing would blow over before Valentine’s Day. I mean most of my mom’s romances don’t last very long anyway, and this one seemed more doomed than the others. So I figured if I could keep my mouth shut and just be patient, things would eventually return to normal.

But now I know I was delusional. Last night those two idiots took their stupidity to a whole new level.

“We’re getting married!” my mom announced from where the two lovebirds were snuggled up together on our couch. Now she said this like it was really good news, like I should jump up and down for joy.

“What?” I demanded, seriously hoping that I’d heard her wrong.

She smiled at me and laid a big wet one on Bradley. Then, giggling like she was in middle school, she turned back to me. “We’re in love, honey. We’ve decided to get married.”

“Married?” I actually gasped now. I mean it was one thing for them to date, and Bradley had already spent a few nights here in our apartment. But marriage? Give me a break.

“We love each other, Morgan. Can’t you see that?”

“But, Mom . . .”

“I know, I know . . .” Mom smiled at me in this out-to-lunch sort of way. “It probably seems sudden to you. But we really want to do this.”

“When?” I asked in a wimped-out voice.

“We’re both taking off work tomorrow and Friday. We’ll fly standby to Vegas, get married in one of those little chapels, and then spend the weekend there. Oh, can’t you be happy for me, Morgan?”

I felt like I was going to be sick. “Mom?” I pleaded with her. “You can’t be serious. I mean you guys barely know each other. And Bradley’s, well, he’s a lot younger than—”

“Oh, Morgan.” My mom made her pouty face. “You know that age is just a number.”

“But Mom, what about—”

“Hey, can’t you just be happy for us, Morgan?” interrupted Bradley as he stroked my mom’s recently bleached hair. “We belong together. Lee Anne is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I wanted to suggest that perhaps Lee Anne could adopt him since I felt pretty sure she was old enough to be his mother.

“Whatever,” I finally said. I mean what difference did my opinion make anyway? “I’ve got homework.”

“So, you’ll be okay, honey?” my mom called after me as I headed for my room.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I could hear the dead tone of my voice. But I knew that she wouldn’t even notice.

“And you don’t mind being home by yourself for a few days?”

“Don’t worry about me,” I called as I closed the door to my room, securing the deadbolt even though Jonathan wasn’t around. Then I threw myself on my bed and cried. I think I actually hoped
that my mom might hear me and come in, like she used to do, and ask me what was wrong. I thought maybe she’d see how this was ruining everything and come to her senses, change her mind about marrying Bradley.

But she didn’t. When I got up this morning, she was already gone. Her suitcases were gone. Her car was gone. And she didn’t even leave a note telling me where she went or when she’d return. For all I know she may never come back at all. I’m not even sure that I would care if she didn’t.

I glance around the classroom now, wondering how I even managed to get here and sit down. I can tell by the clock that this class is nearly over, and I don’t even remember it starting. It’s like I’ve been stuck in time, or maybe experiencing the
Twilight Zone
. But suddenly I remember that Carlie had been trying to tell me something about Jason. I look around the room to see where he’s sitting. Maybe my pity party is coming to an end because now I feel slightly curious as to what Jason’s up to. Maybe he finally got that tattoo. Wouldn’t that freak his respectable, conservative parents? But I don’t see Jason in class today. And suddenly I’m wondering if he’s gotten into some new kind of trouble. I sure hope not since I’d really like to talk to him.

Jason and I have been friends since grade school. We even tried going out together when we were fifteen, but it felt too much like I was kissing my brother and so we called it quits. “Let’s just keep on being good friends,” I told him. And he agreed. And that’s what we’ve done. In fact, I’m thinking that Jason is just the person to pour out my current problems to. He’s a way better listener than Carlie. I mean even though he lives in this freaking, perfectionist world (with parents who are still happily married with great kids, and go to church every Sunday, and mow their lawn on Saturdays, and have respectable
jobs, and impressive friends . . .) Jason is still totally understanding of my whacked-out little life. Maybe it’s because he always considers himself to be the “black sheep” of his family. Which is totally ridiculous since Jason is one of the coolest guys I know. I mean he gets good grades, goes out for sports, hardly ever gets into trouble, and if he does, he’s always sorry afterward. I mean he’s not perfect, but compared to most kids he’s pretty much got it together.

Of course, he doesn’t see it that way. Sometimes he compares himself to his older brother and sister (who must be directly descended from God, they are so disgustingly perfect). But it’s a lot to live up to, and sometimes Jason gets discouraged. And that’s when he tends to do things, well, things that are not so smart. Things that he later regrets. Like the time he wrecked his dad’s car drag racing down by the lake. Not a good scene. But he worked all summer to help pay off the deductible on the insurance, and eventually he even got to drive again.

Finally, class is over and I gather up my stuff, shove it into my backpack, and head for the door.

“Morgan,” says Alyssa in a surprisingly sympathetic tone, especially for Alyssa, who can be a real witch sometimes. “How are you doing?”

I look at her and wonder if she’s suddenly turned clairvoyant or nice or both. I mean how could she possibly know about my mom and Bradley? She’s not even that close of a friend. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean about Jason.” She puts her hand on my arm and I feel an icy chill rush through me. Like I know something is wrong. Really wrong.

“What do you mean
about Jason?”
My voice sounds abnormally high-pitched now.

“You haven’t heard?”

“What’s wrong, Alyssa?”
I can see other kids gathering around us now, like maybe they all know something that I don’t. “What’s wrong?” I say again. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, I just assumed you knew.” She looks uncomfortable now.

“About what?” My voice is getting louder.

She frowns. “Oh, Morgan, I hate to be the one to tell you.”

I grab her by the arm now.
“Just tell me
, Alyssa. What is going on? What happened to Jason?”

“He, uh, he . . .” Her eyes dart to the other kids. “He killed himself last night.”

I feel like someone has just sucked the oxygen out of my lungs, like I can’t even breathe, or like I’m underwater and sinking fast. “No,” I finally say. “That can’t be true.”

She nods. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I know you guys were close.”

I turn and stare at the other kids, hoping they will straighten Alyssa out and explain to this ditzy chick that Jason Harding is alive and well, and that people shouldn’t go around pulling crud like this. But their expressions seem to mirror Alyssa’s. They all have this weird mixture of sadness and confusion and fear on their faces.

“No,” I tell her again. “I don’t believe you, Alyssa. If Jason was dead I would know it.”

“It’s been on the news,” says Eric Stayton. “The whole school knows about it.”

“I heard there’s a special counselor to talk to kids,” offers Eva Fernandez.

“Maybe you should go see him, Morgan,” adds Alyssa.

They continue talking to me or at me or about me, I’m not even sure, but it’s like I can’t process what they’re saying. It’s like these heavy curtains have fallen over my eyes and my ears and I can’t
absorb what’s going on around me.

Finally, I feel this hand beneath my arm and I am being guided somewhere. I try to take in a breath, try to steady myself as I attempt to walk down the hallway in a straight line. I turn to see that it’s Eva next to me and she’s talking to me as we walk. I don’t really get what she’s saying, but the tone of her voice is gentle and calming. And I’m hoping that maybe I’ve just totally misunderstood everything. I mean I realize that I wasn’t thinking too clearly this morning, and I was really bummed about Mom and Bradley. Maybe I’m just having some sort of a breakdown where reality gets all twisted and distorted. Maybe I just need to take a nap or a pill, or throw cold water on my face.

Then we’re in front of the office and I see this enlarged photo of Jason. It’s his yearbook picture and it looks kind of grainy and uneven, but I know it’s him. And beneath the photo is a computer-generated sign that says, “In Loving Memory of Jason Harding. We’ll Miss You!” And beneath that is a long sheet of white butcher paper that goes all around the office wall. It has what appears to be graffiti all over it, but on closer inspection, I see that kids have written their names and things they remember about Jason.

And suddenly it becomes painfully clear. Jason really is dead. And it’s like I’m the last one to know.

And then it’s like my legs just totally give in and I collapse to the floor like a broken toy. I crumple into this pitiful heap of misery beneath Jason’s enlarged photo and, right next to the office door where I hear phones ringing and voices talking, I burrow my head into my knees and sob. “Jason, come back,” I beg. “Please, Jason, come back.” I say these words again and again, thinking that maybe, if I say them enough or if I wish for it hard enough, just maybe I can undo this awful thing that’s taken my friend away from me. But my world is turning black. Pitch black.

M
ELODY
C
ARLSON
has written dozens of books for all age groups, but she particularly enjoys writing for teens. Perhaps this is because her own teen years remain so vivid in her memory. After claiming to be an atheist at the ripe old age of twelve, she later surrendered her heart to Jesus and has been following him ever since. Her hope and prayer for all her readers is that each one would be touched by God in a special way through her stories. For more information, please visit Melody’s website at
www.melodycarlson.com
.