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Luke chuckled. “True. That whole table’s screwed up. Did you know that Hutchins is a foster kid?”
The girls at my table gasped at the new gossip. I checked out Noah again. He appeared deep in conversation with some girl with long black hair.
“Yep,” Luke continued. “Heard Mrs. Rogers and Mr. Norris discussing it in the hallway.” The bell rang, ending Luke’s spotlight on the forbidden information on Noah Hutchins.
While I threw away the remains of my lunch, Grace sidled up beside me and whispered, “This was huge, Echo. If Luke’s into you again, life will change. Who he talks to and dates changes everyone’s opinion. Maybe things will finally get back to normal.”
One of Grace’s public friends called out to her and she left my side without a second glance. I sighed as I pulled my sleeves over my fingers. What I wouldn’t give for normal.
NOAH (#ulink_dabd06dc-9f39-5647-bbb5-12cf39359047)
I’d told Mrs. Collins the truth. I didn’t have time for tutoring or counseling. In June, I would turn eighteen and graduate from foster care. That meant I’d need a place of my own, and rent meant a job. But Mrs. Collins had played me like a street hustler. An occasional supervised visit with my brothers wasn’t enough. She dangled them in front of me like a damn needle to a heroin addict.
My shift at the Malt and Burger started at five. I glanced at the clock hanging over the reference librarian’s desk. What part of “meet the guy you’re tutoring directly after school at the public library” did my know-it-all misunderstand? Mrs. Collins might have mentioned who would be tutoring me, but I’d stopped listening after a few minutes. The lady talked too much.
I focused on the double doors. Five more minutes and I could happily call this session a failure, a fact I would be thrilled to throw in Mrs. Collins’s face.
One door opened and cold air swept in, causing goose bumps to rise on my arms. Ah, hell. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. Echo Emerson glided into the library.
Her eyes swept the room while her gloved hands rubbed her arms. Like the cold could penetrate that fancy-ass brown leather coat. A light, sunshine smile rested on her face. It appeared Mrs. Collins had kept us both in the dark. The moment she saw me, her smile faded and her green eyes erupted with thunderclouds. Join the fucking club.
From under the table, I kicked out the chair opposite me. “You’re late.”
She set her book bag on the table and scooted the chair in as she sat. “I had to go to the office and find out testing dates. I could have gotten the information this morning, but some jerk got in my way.”
Advantage Echo, but I smiled at her like I had the upper hand. “You could have stayed. I never asked you to leave.”
“And let you harass me some more? No, thanks.” She shrugged off her jacket, but kept on her knitted gloves. She smelled of cold and leather. Her blue cotton shirt dipped below her beige tank, exposing the top of her cleavage. Girls like her enjoyed teasing guys. Little did she know, I didn’t mind looking.
Catching me staring, she readjusted her shirt and her cleavage disappeared from view. Well, that was fun. She glared at me, possibly waiting for an apology. She’d be waiting a long time.
“What subject are you failing? All of them?” Those green eyes danced. It appeared Echo also enjoyed dishing out shit.
All right, I’d screwed with her this morning for no reason. She deserved to get a couple blows in. “None. Mrs. Collins is calling the shots on this.”
Echo opened her backpack and withdrew a notebook. A shadow crossed her face when she slid off the gloves and immediately pulled her long sleeves over her hands. “What subject do you want to start with? We have calculus and physics together, so we could start there. You’ve got to be a complete moron if you need help with business technology.” She paused. “And weren’t you in my Spanish class last term?”
I lowered my head so my hair fell into my eyes. For a girl who didn’t know I existed, she sure knew a lot about me. “Yeah.” And this term, too. She barely beat the bell walking into class and took the first seat available without giving anyone a second look.
“Qué tan bien hablas español?” she asked.
How well could I speak Spanish? Pretty damn decent. I shoved away from the table. “I gotta go.”
“What?” Her forehead crinkled in disbelief.
“Unlike you, I don’t have parents to pay for everything. I’ve got a job, Princess, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late. See you around.”
Grabbing my books and jacket, I left the table and immediately exited the library. The cold January air smacked me in the face. Ice covered several spots on the pavement.
“Hey!”
I glanced over my shoulder. Echo bounded after me, leather jacket on one arm and pack slung over her back.
“Get your damn jacket on. It’s cold outside.” I didn’t stop for her, but I slowed my pace, curious as to why she followed me out.
She caught up quickly and kept step beside me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I told you, to work. I thought you were smart.” I’d never met anyone so fun to mess with.
“Fine. Then when are we going to make this session up?”
I slammed my books on the piece of crap I called a car, causing rust to scatter to the ground. “We’re not. I’ll make you a deal. You tell Mrs. Collins that we’re meeting as many days after school as you want, collect whatever volunteer hours you need for whatever little club you belong to, and I’ll back you up. I won’t have to see you and you won’t have to look at me. I get to continue with my screwed up life and you get to go home and play dress-up with your friends. Deal?”
Echo winced and backed away as if I’d slapped her. She lost her footing when she hit a patch of ice. My right hand swept out and snatched her wrist before her body could smack the ground.
I kept hold of her while she steadied herself using the trunk of my car. Embarrassment or cold flushed her white cheeks. Either way, I found it funny. But before I had a chance to make fun of her, her eyes widened and she stared down at the wrist I held.
Her long blue sleeve was hiked past her elbow and I followed her gaze to the exposed skin. She attempted to yank her hand away, but I tightened my grip and swallowed my disgust. In all the horror-show homes I’d lived in, I never once saw mutilation like that. White and pale red, raised scars zigzagged up her arm. “What the fuck is that?”
I tore my eyes away from the scars and searched her face for answers. She sucked in several shallow gasps before yanking a second time and successfully jerking out of my grasp. “Nothing.”
“That ain’t nothing.” And that something had to hurt like hell when it happened.
Echo stretched her sleeve past her wrist to her fingertips. She resembled a corpse. The blood rushed out of her cheeks and her body quaked with silent tremors. “Leave me alone.”
She turned away and stumbled back to the library.
Echo (#ulink_e3dbce53-0598-52cd-b507-eef5f70b58b0)
“Nothing,” said Lila. “Not a word, not a peep, not a sound. Natalie, Grace and I even put a few feelers out to the juniors, but there is absolutely no gossip flying about you. Well, at least nothing involving Noah Hutchins.”
Lila sat in the passenger seat and I sat in the driver’s side of Aires’ 1965 Corvette. She’d come home with me to act as my barrier for Family Friday—or as I liked to refer to it, Dinner for the Damned.
In the garage, the radio played from my 1998 forest-green Dodge Neon. Aires’ Corvette still had its original radio. Translation: a piece of crap, but the rest of the car was totally beast. Flashy bloodred with black pinstriping running horizontally— Aires typically lost me at this point, but he would still continue talking even though my eyes glazed over—three functional, vertical front, slanting louvers on the sides of the front fenders; a blacked-out, horizontal-bars grille and different rocker panel moldings.
I had no idea what that meant, but Aires said it enough that I had the description memorized. The car looked awesome, but it didn’t run. Thanks to Noah Hutchins, my chances of it ever running lessened each day. I tightened my hands on the steering wheel and remembered Aires’ promise to me. Days before he left, he had hovered over the open hood as I sat on the workbench.
“It’s going to be okay, Echo.” Aires’ eyes had flicked to my rocking foot. “It’s only a six-month deployment.”
“I’m fine,” I’d said as I blinked three times. I didn’t want him to leave. Aires was the only person in the world who understood the craziness of our family, plus he was the only one capable of keeping the peace between me, Ashley and our father. He wasn’t Ashley’s biggest fan, but regardless of his feelings, he always encouraged me to give her a break.
He chuckled. “Next time at least try to stop your telltale sign of lying. One of these days Dad will pick up on it.”
“Will you write?” I asked, changing the subject. He’d talked a lot about our father before he left.
“And email and Skype.” He wiped his hands on an already greasy rag and stretched to his full six feet. “I’ll tell you what. When I get home and finish the car, you can be first to drive it. After me, of course.”
My foot stopped rocking and I was flooded with the first real feeling of hope since Aires told me of his deployment. Aires would return home as long as his car waited for him. He’d given me a dream and I held on to it after he left. My dreams died with him on a desolate road in Afghanistan.
“Whatcha thinking about?” asked Lila now.
“Noah Hutchins,” I lied. “He’s had all week to tell the whole school about my scars. What do you think he’s waiting for?”
“Maybe Noah doesn’t have anyone to tell. He’s a stoner foster kid who needs tutoring.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I answered. Or maybe he was waiting for the perfect moment to make my life a living hell.
Lila played with the rings on her fingers, signaling nerves.
“What?” I asked.
I had to strain to hear her mumbled answer. “We told Luke.”
Every single muscle in my neck tightened and I released my grip on the steering wheel, terrified I’d rip the plastic to shreds. “You what?”
Lila turned in her seat, wringing her hands in her lap. “He’s in our English class. Instead of proofreading each others’ papers, Natalie, Grace and I were discussing the Noah situation and your scars and … Luke overheard a few things.”
My heart pounded in my ears. For almost two years, I’d kept this horrible secret and in one week two people had forced their way into my personal nightmare.
When I didn’t say anything she continued, “Those scars are not your fault. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Your mom definitely does and possibly your dad, but you? Nothing. Luke already knew your mom was freaking psychotic and he never told anyone. He’s a moron, but even he could figure out your mom hurt you.”
Should I be mad? Relieved? I settled for numb. “She’s not psychotic,” I murmured, knowing that anything I said regarding my mother fell on deaf ears. “She has issues.”
In a slow, deliberate movement, Lila placed her hand over mine, giving my fingers a reassuring squeeze. A reminder she’d love me regardless. “We think you should tell people. You know, take the offensive instead of the defensive. That way if Noah tells everybody, people will already know the real story and think he’s a jerk for making fun of you.”
I stared at Aires’ workbench. My father never tinkered with tools. If something broke, he called someone to fix it. Aires had loved to tinker. He spent every moment here in this garage. God, I needed him. I needed him to tell me what to do.
“Please say something, Echo.” The heartbreak in Lila’s voice broke mine.
“Whose idea was it?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. “Grace?” She’d wanted me to tell the whole school what’d happened immediately.
“That’s not fair.” Lila exhaled. “Not that Grace has been fair to you either. She swore this whole public versus private thing would end after the head cheerleader vote, but here’s the thing, Echo. She wants what we all want—everything back to normal. As long as everyone thinks you’re a cutter or tried to commit suicide you’ll always be on the outs. Maybe this whole Noah thing is a blessing in disguise.”
I looked at Lila for the first time since she’d broken the news. “My mom is off-limits.”
“We’ll back you.” Lila rushed out the words. “Luke said he’d tell his friends about the crazy mom episodes he witnessed when the two of you were dating. You know, to add legitimacy to your story. And when Grace heard that, she agreed to tell everyone what she, Natalie and I saw in the hospital. We saw the cops. We heard your father yelling at your mother. Grace wants this so badly—we all do.”
“Because having a crazy mom and no memory of the night she tried to kill me is so much better than people guessing I’m a cutter or tried to commit suicide.”
Lila spoke softly. “People will feel bad for you. Being a victim … it makes it different. That’s what Grace has been trying to tell you all along.”
Anger snapped my frail patience. “I don’t want their sympathy and I don’t want the worst night of my life up for discussion for the whole school. If I ever tell anyone what happened, I want to be able to tell them the truth, not that I’m some pathetic moron who remembers nothing.” I rapped the back of my head against the seat and stared at the ceiling of the car. Deep breaths, Echo. Deep breaths.
I remembered absolutely nothing about that night. My father, Ashley and my mom knew the truth. But I was forbidden to speak to my mom, and Dad and Ashley believed what the therapists said. That when my mind could handle the truth, I’d remember.
Whatever. They weren’t the ones who lay in bed at night trying to figure out what happened. They weren’t the ones who woke up screaming. They weren’t the ones wondering if they were losing their minds.
They weren’t the ones who felt hopeless.
“Echo …” Lila faltered, took a deep breath, and stared out the windshield. This had to be bad. Lila always could make eye contact. “Have you ever thought that maybe you’ve brought some of this on yourself?”
I flinched and fought to control the anger shaking my insides. “Excuse me?”
“I know it was rough coming back after what happened between you and your mom, but have you ever wondered if maybe you’d come back in September and continued life as normal, people would have eventually moved on? I mean, you sort of became a recluse.”
The anger gave way to a hurt that shoved my heart into my throat. Was this how my best friend saw me? As a coward? A failure? “Yeah, I did think of that.” And I waited before speaking again to keep my voice from cracking. “But the more I put myself out there, the more people talked. Remember last year’s dance team tryouts? People tend to gossip about what they see.”
Her head lowered. “I remember.”
“Why?” I asked her. “Why bring this all up now?”
“Because you’re trying, Echo. You actually came to lunch. You’re talking to people. It’s the first time since our sophomore year that I’ve seen you try and I’m terrified you’re going to go back into your shell.” She turned to face me with a strange spring in her movements. “Don’t let what Noah saw scare you off. Come to Michael Blair’s party with me tomorrow night.”
Had she lost her mind? “No way.”
“Come on,” she pleaded. “It’s your birthday tomorrow. We have to go out for your birthday.”
“No.” I wanted to forget that the day even existed. Mom and Aires used to make a holiday out of my birthday. Without them….
She clasped her hands together and placed them under her chin. “Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with hot fudge? Try it my way and if it doesn’t work I swear I’ll never bring it up again. And did I mention I overheard Ashley tell your dad that she wanted to take you out to dinner? At a restaurant. A fancy one. With five courses. One little yes to me and I can get you out of it.”
Dinner for the Damned on Fridays was bad enough. Dinner for the Damned in public would be inhumane. I took another deep breath. Lila had stuck with me through it all: my mother’s insanity, my parents’ divorce, Aires’ death and now this. She may not know it yet, but Lila was about to receive her birthday present. “Fine.”
She squealed and clapped her hands together. In one long, continuous sentence, she described her plans for the next night. Maybe Lila and Grace were right. Maybe life could go back to normal. I could hide my scars and go to parties and just lie low. Noah hadn’t told anybody and maybe he wouldn’t.
Besides, only four more months till graduation and after that I could wear gloves every day for the rest of my life.
NOAH (#ulink_39e0dfeb-74b1-5bdc-9f31-b2d979d488a3)
Twenty-eight anxious days had passed since I’d visited this bleakly decorated room in the social services building. The clowns and elephants painted on the wall were meant to invite happiness, yet the longer I looked, the more sinister they became. Nervous as hell and holding two wrapped gifts, I sat on a cold folding chair. I didn’t need this reminder of how screwed up my family had become. My little brothers used to shadow my every footstep, worshipping the ground I walked on. Now, I wasn’t sure if Tyler remembered our last name.
I waited like a caged jack-in-the-box ready to spring. The social worker needed to bring my brothers in before my nerves exploded. For some reason, Echo and her rocking foot came to mind. She must be wound twice as tight as me.
My mother’s voice chimed in my head. “You must always look presentable. It’s important to put your best foot forward.”
I’d shaved, which I normally didn’t bother doing every day. My mom and dad would have hated my hairstyle and any sign of stubble on my face. With my mother in mind, I didn’t let my hair grow past my ears on the sides, but, out of self-preservation, I’d let the top grow a little long, denying people access to my eyes.
The door opened and I automatically stood with the gifts still in my hands. Jacob flew through the door and rammed his body into mine. His head reached my stomach now. I tossed the presents on the table, lowered myself to Jacob’s level and wrapped my arms around him. My heart dropped. Man, he’d grown.
My social worker, a heavyset black lady in her fifties, paused in the door frame. “Remember, no askin’ personal questions about their foster parents. I’ll be on the other side of that mirror.”
I glared at Keesha. She glared back at me before she left. At least the hate was mutual. After I hit my first foster father, the system had labeled me emotionally unstable and I’d lost the right to see my brothers. Since I’d had no outbursts with any of my other foster families and showed “improvement,” I’d recently regained once-a-month supervised visitation.
Jacob mumbled into my shoulder, “I missed you, Noah.”
I pulled away and looked at my eight-year-old brother. He had Dad’s blond hair, blue eyes and nose. “I missed you, too. Where’s Tyler?”
Jacob diverted his gaze to the floor. “He’s coming. Mom … I mean …” he stuttered. “Carrie is talking to him in the hallway. He’s a little nervous.” His eyes met mine again, full of worry.
