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I was in that half-awake, half-asleep stage where you can hear the phone ringing and something cooking in the kitchen. Where you can smell that heavenly bacon smell and suddenly you want to get up just to have some fat-fried wonderful. When my little brother jumped.
“You gotta get up!”
“No,” I grumped.
I peeked out and saw Logan looking confused. He was too young to know how to get me awake. He put his arm around me and gave me a kiss on my cheek.
“Sammy? Sammy, please?” he looked so adorable that I gave him a small squeeze and sat up.
“YAY! Mommy! Mommy! I got her up! She’s awake! Mommy!” I watched his little five-year-old butt run into the kitchen.
As I stood up I felt searing pain in my left leg. What the heck happened last night?
“Ok,” I thought as I limped to the living room, “I remember falling on the bed really late but before that. Before bed. Before home. Before? Before what?”
“Samantha!” my mom said, “what time did you get home last night? I was so worried! We were so worried.”
I thought back. It wasn’t ten. Or eleven. Or midnight- my curfew.
“12:30 or so?”
“No. We were still up.” I sat down across from my father who was reading the paper.
“WIFE KILLS FAMILY FOR FATHER HAVING AN AFFAIR!” the headline roared.
“Figures my dad’d be into it,” I mumbled.
“Samantha?” My mom turned my face towards her again. Ugh. I always felt so bad for them. But I’m a seventeen year old in high school. I’m a party animal, a daredevil and I’m not planning on changing. They wanted me to go to Harvard and be a lawyer but I wasn’t up for it.
“Sam? Were you out with Drake?”
It all came rushing back. The beer, the deer, the motorcycle, the tree, the
Jacket. I shook it off. I’d think about crying later. Not now, not in front of Logan. Not in front of my mom. My dad.
“Oh. Yeah. A couple of us went out for a bite to eat and some drinks and it got late. Maybe around one o’clock.”
“Ok. Are you all right? You weren’t drinking were you?”
“No. ‘course not. I’m seventeen!” I lied.
Truth is, when I was thirteen I passed for a college student. I could’ve drunken back then and no one would have batted an eyelash. Now, even underage I do everything.
“All right. But one AM is still an hour after curfew. I want you home by midnight,” she started to walk away but turned back, “drinks? With seventeen year olds?”
“Virgin drinks,” I lied again.
“Oh, good,” she sighed heavily and went back in to get breakfast.
“So dad, how’d that lady kill her kids?”
He stared at me. Hard. Cold. Stone cold.
“Well, her daughter knew about it so she killed the girl first. Then went on a rampage.”
I sat quietly. A first for me in my own house.
“Sammy!” Logan said breaking the silence, “I start school today!”
“Oh. Cool. You’ll love it.”
“I know! I already have my pencils and my pens and my folders and my notebooks and…” I tuned him out and thought about the mystery night.
I remembered sneaking out. Easy. I got a call while finishing homework from my boyfriend Drake asking me if I wanted to go to “Blumme” the coolest bar in the city. I obviously accepted and left the house while mom was nervously cooking and dad was out at “work”. I hopped on the motorcycle and we zoomed off into the hippest part.
The bouncer looked skeptical but when we showed him our fakies and an Andrew Jackson he let us through. We were seated at the bar to my dismay and he immediately ordered three beers.
“Well, you’ll barely drink one!”
They came as soon as my coat went off and I sipped politely and watched a Spanish soap opera about random lives. After about three affairs and twenty minutes I turned back to Drake.
There were three empty beer mugs and a very drunk boyfriend hitting on an Anorexic- thin polish blonde.
I stomped over to him.
“Hey,” he turned and started to twirl my light brown hair.
“It’s soft,” he mumbled.
I pulled him back to our seats.
“Drake, you’re drunk.”
“So?” he countered.
“So you can’t drive. I’m calling a cab,” I pulled out my Droid and started to call the closest cab company.
“Babe, I got it,” he took my phone out of my hands and put it in my pocket. I sighed and stared at him. I was pretty tipsy too and it wasn’t our first driving attempt.
We stumbled out of the bar and slid onto his motorcycle. We started driving when. When what? Think Sam. Think.
We started driving and he wanted to go onto the highway. The shortcut. I argued that that was stupid because cops catch drunkers much more often on the highway instead of the smaller roads. He told me to shut up or walk it. I held onto his stomach tighter. Like I wouldn’t let go. Ever.
I stopped thinking. Sammy no. Not here.
As I went back into my room and threw on clothes, I felt my head reeling. I felt it spinning. I felt my brain twirling all over the place. I felt the burning sensation of the bacon. Then I saw it. My breakfast.
My mother ran into my room and pulled me into the bathroom.
“Samantha! Are you all right?” she worries a lot, I mean today she had a reason to be but still.
“Yeah. Just too much sugar last night. I’m… I’m good.”
I sped out of there and grabbed my bag.
“Sam!” she yelled, but I was out of the door.
As I drove to school, I couldn’t bear to see the faces. Of my friends. My teachers. They knew. They knew what happened. Didn’t they? I mean the cops should’ve found him by now and sent a report, right?
I jumped out of my car and scurried into school. As my feet touched the stairs of the fifth floor I was high-fived and patted on the back. I was hugged and air kissed. People say that being popular is worse than being dead. Obviously they’d never been on the bottom of the social food chain.
Ever hear the saying “never be a guppy in a piranha infested tank”? Probably not, because I just made it up. But at high school those guppies are the suicidal ones that you read about in the newspaper. You’d much rather be a piranha or a shark better yet.
Anyway, from their reaction they didn’t know. I planned to keep it that way. I wanted everything to be the same. Yeah. Right. I couldn’t concentrate. I just listened to the soundtrack of my life. I failed a test. Then I skipped lunch and sat on a swing. Me. Me. Me? I’m not the nobody’d miss you type. I’m the homecoming queen glory. So when I didn’t show, people looked. My friend Mikki found me.
“What’s going on, Sam? You never miss lunch.”
“I’m just… not… hungry. Yeah.”
She sat on the swing next to me and held my hand. I had the inclination to pull away and be a loner but it felt nice. Motherly.
“Did you and Drake fight?”
“Come on. Come inside. Eat,” she pushed.
“Fine,” she gave up, “enjoy your life.”
As I watched her walk away it reminded me of a moment in time. A life changing moment.
One night after a concert with Drake, he was taking me home and I stopped to thank him.
“It was amazing tonight. How’d you score those seats?” we were dead center in the second row and had little mini gift bags of “Green Day” souvenirs.
“A buddy of mine met one of ‘em in rehab and gets tickets whenever.”
“Well, thank you ‘buddy.’”
“Hell no. Not me. I’ve never been in rehab.”
I gave him a look to tell him that I “totally” believed him.
I stood up straight and gave him a kiss.
“Stop it!” I heard. A high-pitched squeal from some girl. One of those I’m-not-in-trouble-I’m-just-playing-innocent-for-my-boyfriend squeals.
I pull away and turned to see someone very like my dad making out with some beach blonde bimbo. He had his hands up the back of her shirt and was playing with her hair.
“Dave, I have to go.”
Dave. My dad’s name.
He pulled away and watched her start to walk away.
“I love you,” he whispered. I hadn’t heard him say that to anyone in a long time.
She made a heart with her hands like a 12 year old and kept walking. I ran after her and slapped her. I told her exactly what I thought of this relationship and about his family and history. I would’ve continued but she said something heart-stopping.
“We’re in love. That isn’t going away.”
I heard Drake come up behind me and he pulled me back. I kicked that woman and spit in her face. I watched her scurry away and turned around to cry in his arms.
I heard more footsteps- my father’s- but I didn’t care. I wanted him to fall in a lake. He started to mumble an apology but Drake told him that this wasn’t the time. Then he told him to drown in a lagoon- it’s like he could read my mind.
“Sam I’m so sorry.” Drake murmured in my ear.
I held him tighter and cried harder. Not because I was a jerk to the woman but because my father was a cheater. I remembered in fourth grade how I cheated on a spelling test and he screamed at me. He screamed how cheating and being successful wasn't winning. You lose. You fail. And you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve anything. I wondered if at that point he was still a cheater.
At that time I couldn’t go home without telling anyone or killing him. So I slept at Drake’s so I wouldn’t have to deal. I remember my mom yelling at me for staying at my boyfriend’s but I just tuned her out. I didn’t care. It wasn’t my first time away from home.
Anyway, back to my loserness. I called out to Michaela. She waved her hand at me to signal “I’m done with you.”
I pulled out my phone to text Drake and it hit me all over again. I sat on that swing for another twenty minutes sobbing.
When I finally stopped my fifth period class had started so I just went home. I didn’t feel like it. I wasn’t into it today.
As I opened the door I knew I would be alone. The lights were off and the usual smell of my mother’s perfume was faint. I scurried into my room and buried my nose in my journal.
“Use your notebook to express yourself. Sometimes a diary is more useful than a best friend,” My teacher used to say.
I jotted down every piece of information from the night before and in the middle fell asleep.
I was on the bike. On his motorcycle.
“Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world! She tool the midnight train going anywhere.” Drake sang out along with the radio.
“Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit. He took the midnight train going anywhere.” I continued.
He turned back at me and smiled. At that point I shivered. We pulled over and he handed me his leather bomber jacket.
“No, it’s yours. Your dad’s.” His dad died three years ago from cancer but gave him the jacket. He threw it over my shoulders to signify that I would wear it. We kept going.
“Deer!” I screamed out after a moment. He had turned around by now.
“Yes, honey?” he smirked.
“No! DEER!” I pointed at a baby white tailed deer that had run out into the road. He swerved and. And. AND!
“Come on, Sam!” I pushed.
It went black. I closed my eyes as we hit a tall pine tree. The moment the impact hit me I snapped into adrenaline mode. I remembered turning off the motorcycle and kneeling down to Drake. I remember him not responding. I remember holding on tightly to his jacket and fled into the night. I remember waking up at home. The rest a mystery.
I woke up from my mid-day nap.
“It happened,” I whispered, “it happened.”
I drifted off again saw Drake’s face above me.
“Forget me,” he said, “you need to forget.”
“Forget me,” he said, “remembering me won’t help you. Forget me.”
I picked up the jacket next to me and peeked inside a pocket. A package of cigarettes, lighter, notebook and four or five flowers. I pulled them out. His favorites. His father’s favorites. The flowers his father gave to him over and over again. Drake’s good luck charm.
I heard the door slam open and I slid off my bed. I saw my father stumbling in.
“Dad, uh, what the hell?”
“Sam… Sam… Go away Bambi…” he rambled.
“Are you drunk?” he fell to the floor.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I dragged him to his bed and helped him in. I watched him fumble with the sheets as I brought him a cup of coffee. He looked up at me.
“It’ll help the hangover. Drink.”
“No, why are you helping me? You hate me.”
“I hate what you’re doing, but you’re still my father.”
“You mean with Tiffany?”
“Even a slutty name?” I thought.
“I asked her to marry me,” he whispered.
“What?” I jumped off the bed and fell to the floor like a klutz.
“Last night. I got her a ring and then we went out to a bar to celebrate. Then I told her I had to go but she brought the jack and…” he slurred.
I stood up and threw his coffee in his face.
“Why? What about us? Huh? What about Mom or Logan or ME? If you choose that skank over your family, you have to go. Now!”
He slowly stood up and gave me a hug.
“I love you Sammybear. Always.” He stumbled and we fell against the mirror.
“Get off me!”
I pushed him away and went into my room. He picked up his briefcase and walked out.
“Wait,” I whispered,” Daddy!”
I hurried to the door to see the elevator enclosing my father to his brand new life.
I whimpered and broke down. I started doing the one thing I hate the most. Crying. I slid down the door and curled into a ball.
My life was ending. My boyfriend was gone, my father left and the only thing that knew about anything was a book with empty pages. I sobbed until my eyes were red and raw.
Finally I stood up, locked the door and went to lay down. When I woke up it was super late and there was banging on the door.
I slumped out of bed and opened the vibrating slab of wood. She looked familiar. Like a face I once- Oh god.
“You B****!” she screeched.
“E… excuse me?”
“You forced Dave to choose! You made him pick!”
“Uh… Yeah… and now he… he’s all yours!”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” she yelled, “I… I love David, I do, but the fun is gone. The sneaking around, the quiet work days when he’d come over at like, midnight and just be like, ‘I needed you.’ Now he’s bummed out on my couch yelling at Homer Simpson to save him a donut!”
“Sorry,” I snapped, “If you didn’t want that, you shouldn’t have said YES! And then taken the ring!”
“I thought it’d blow over. I figured that he’d never leave you guys. I wanted him happy bef… I mean I know I’m SO much better than you losing fr-”
“Look, Blondie, it’s late. I’m tired and I don’t wanna hear your crap so GO AWAY!”
I slammed the door in her face. I heard it tap again.
“Samantha? How do… How do you tell someone?”
I opened the door once more.
“What? Tell someone what?”
“That… that you’re… that you’re pregnant?”
My jaw hit the floor.
“And… and it. Oh god… It’s not theirs?”
I shoved her inside and sat her on the couch. Why I would do that I have no idea. My mom was at a spa for the night and Logan was at a friend’s house, so I was all alone for the night. With Tiffany of course.
“YOU are pregnant?”
She nodded quietly then burst into tears.
“I… I just… it… it just… Happened! I was out and I-I saw a g-guy and he was really c-cute and so I went over to talk to hi-him… but he was so super cute… I just… so I started seein’ him. Like when Dave was with your mom. And… And… And… OH! I’m so BAD!” she hiccupped.
That was one I couldn’t disagree with.
“So you were cheating on my father who was cheating on his wife with you?” I frowned.
She nodded and looked up.
“Rob, he just… understood me. He’s about my age and he loves me. But oh. Oh. OH! But Dave… Dave… loves me too! What do I do?” she fell onto my lap with a sigh.
I looked down at her. I wanted to hate her. I really did. I wanted to tell her to go to hell and leave me alone. That it was her fault for being a sex-crazed demon. But I felt so… sadly lonely.
“Did you ever cheat?” she cried.
“On a test?”
“No, idiot, on a man!” that hatred was slowly returning.
My old boyfriend Aaron was being obnoxious at a club one night. He was dancing with other girls, whispering and tickling them. So naturally, as a jealous girl, I found the hottest guy I could and started to make out with him in front of Aaron. Later, I then fell in love with said boy (so I thought) and continued to see him while stringing along poor boyfriend. Let’s just say it didn’t end very well.
Even though I felt bad for Tiffany I still despised her and her actions.
“No. Never, cheating’s wrong. If you don’t love him then just break it off!” I lied.
“But. But! BUT!!!”
“Tiffany what do you want?”
“Eh. E… EVERYTHING!”
“Spoiled brat,” I mumbled.
“If you want… No, you know what? You gotta go. I’m sorry. Not really. But my boyfriend’ll be here any second. Bye,” I fibbed as I pushed her out the door.
“The dead one?” she asked.
“What?” I startled.
“Yeah I heard about your accident the other night.”
I was speechless.
“I shouldn’t have left him! I shouldn’t have let him die. I shouldn’t have stolen his jacket. I should’ve called the police,” I thought as I stumbled back to bed. I could hear Tiffany quietly moaning and sobbing on the couch where I left her.
When I woke up again it was morning and I was way too drowsy to care about school. I sniffed the air but it was empty. There was no perfume or bacon. No pancakes or syrup. Nothing. I’d never had this problem before.
I set out to find my mother.
“Mom?” I called.
I heard a muffled sigh and walked into her room, happily seeing on the way our empty couch.
“Where is he?” she was sitting on their bed on my dad’s side. His bed-part was still made perfectly. The pillows were fluffed and the bedspread was untouched.
“Do you know? Where’s your father? Where is he???” she cried.
“He came home yesterday engaged to some bimbo.”
“Oh…. Did you… know?”
She gave me a “look”, “the affair.”
“Yes,” I murmured.
I told her everything. Well, almost everything. I told her about him leaving and the night I found out.
I left out Tiffany and the baby and well… Drake but…
“I knew too,” she whispered.
“Well, I had a feeling. He’d come home so late with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unzipped. He’d go away on so many business trips when I knew he’d been cut back to less hours a week,” she started crying, “I knew. But I did… nothing. I did nothing. Because I knew if I brought it up, he’d go. I couldn’t let him leave. Yet now he’s gone.”
“Actually I… I kicked him out. I told him to choose between us.”
She jumped up.
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“I… I just…” I stammered.
“You stupid girl!”
“Mom! I,” I put a hand on her shoulder but she pushed it away.
She shoved me away and slapped my face.
“You stupid child.”
I felt the red searing pain and the tears wash away my sorrow further.
I stomped out and went to get ready for school.
As I was driving, I stopped.
“What am I doing? Why am I going to school? Everyone knows about the accident by now.”
I pulled a U-turn and headed up to the rich part of town. I banged on the door.
“Sam? What are you-?”
“We need to talk,” I burst, “now.”
I looked at my surroundings. I was in Tiffany’s apartment. It was an all glass house except for the floor and ceilings, so I could see the entire place from the entryway.
I had a cup of tea in front of me. I stared at the scone in my hand.
“Carbs?” I thought, “Now a model would throw it out.” I took a huge bite. It tasted like butter and fat and heaven. Finally.
I’d gone so long without having a carb day (they come for me but twice a year) and I needed it.
Yeah… I sound crazy right? Carb day? What? But how do you expect a person to be popular if they’re fat like a rock and scarf bagels down like grapes? Not how this world works.
I licked my fingers and felt the guilt slide down my throat. I reached for another. Chocolate this time.
“You were hungry, Sport. I haven’t seen you eat like that since thanksgiving last year. And after that you were bowing down to the golden bowl.”
I sighed. Yeah. I remembered my binge and purge stage.
“Mom’s a wreck,” I stated as I added more sugar to my tea.
He said nothing and awkwardly stirred his coffee.
“Dad, you need to talk to her-”
“You have to explain. All she knows is you woke up left home and didn’t return. You went to your mistresses house and got engaged.”
“She has no idea it started a while ago,” I spit, “she has no idea you love her.”
“Sam… you don’t know either.”
“It started the day Logan was born.”
“You started cheating on your wife while she was in labor?”
“Ugh… I walked in from work one day and saw your mom sitting on the couch clutching her oversized stomach. ‘Baby?’ she said. I rushed her into the car and we drove to the closest hospital.”
“Boston Memorial,” I whispered.
My father nodded and continued.
“You were in school and I called your nanny to pick you up. While your mom was filling out paper a nurse walked by and she was like ‘whoa’-hot. They all seemed to be taunting me. ‘You know you cant get me. Your wife’s in labor.’ Apparently the nurses needed to wear super short scrubs. Like in a soap opera, then one came to take us to the room. She was gorgeous. I felt like a teenage boy again. Getting that rush looking at a girl. I turned to look at your mom and felt appalled. I had all these girls and I felt like I had all these chances in the world but I chose her.
“When your mom started to go with Logan I was standing on the sidelines. One of those modelicious-”
“Sorry. Hot intern nurses came up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. ‘Scared yet dad?’ she asked me. ‘I was the second I saw the pink + sign.’ She laughed and stood in front of me. ‘Yeah, now you wont get any more chances.’ I sighed and stepped out of the room. She followed me.
“‘ But I want more chances!’ I whined. She put a hand on my face and said, ‘who really needs more chances?’ I told her that I did. I was pulled into a broom closet to kiss her and I felt like I’d never grown up. I’d never gotten older. I was still the amazing teen who cheated on the cheerleader with the head cheerleader and cheated on her with the student teacher.”
“Dad. Like stop.”
“While your mom was giving birth to Logan I was cr-”
“Stop. I cant. Just stop,” I stuttered. I stood to leave.
He grasped my hand, “Wait.”
“She wasn’t the first. Tiffany, I mean. She wasn’t the one at the hospital. I just got so caught up I couldn’t….”
“Stop,” I finished, “did you love them?”
“No. Did you?”
I tilted my head, confused.
“Did you love him?”
“Huh? Dad I don’t-”
“Drake? Did you love him?”
“You… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered.
“I know that you left us that night.”
“ I know you snuck out to see your boyfriend.”
“ When you’re doing something wrong you’re super careful. I have a few hidden cameras. That way I can make sure no one knows,” he smirked.
“You’re sick!” I spat, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is but you deserve everything you get. You deserve all the freaking sluts in your life that cheat on you behind your back.”
I turned to leave as I saw Tiffany frowning in bed. (yeah. I could see that too.)
I saw her get off of the king-sized mattress and work her way down the hall.
“I heard yelling so I-” she started.
“Tell him,” I yelled, “tell him the truth. Just say it!”
“What? I don’t-” she blushed wildly.
“Tiff, what’s she saying?”
“I don’t-” she sputtered.
“FINE! She,” I pointed at Tiffany, “is pregnant.”
“SAMANTHA!” Tiffany yelled.
“And…” grand finale, “ it’s not yours.”
“Get out of my house.”
“Wha?” I turned to face him.
“Get out!” he growled.
I looked at Tiffany to see her crying.
“GET OUT!” ‘Dave yelled, “she would never. Get out of this home right now Samantha!”
“I don’t even recognize you. Get out NOW!”
I looked at the pair. It seemed too awkward to live with a 50-year-old man and be like a 22-year-old girl. That’s just wrong. When she was born he was like twenty-eight. Ew.
I grabbed the last scone and stomped out of the glass house.
As I slammed the door I felt it shake and I wished they would break up so that my parents would get back together. Most kids with divorced parents do, but not many children have my problem. I stood there for a few minutes until I heard the sounds of a fight.
“Is it true?”
“Dave…. I… I’m so sorry…”
“Just tell me. I-Is it true?”
“Yes. Ok? Yes!”
“I. I just don’t get it. Why? I… I left my wife you and you go and you-”
I left it there. I didn’t want to hear the real deal. Just the start so I knew it happened.
I found my car outside and had the crazy idea of driving by the scene of the accident. It was mid-afternoon and I figured it would be kind of bright and a lot of witnesses to visit my dead boyfriend. I sat at home and sulked. No dad, no mom, no friends, no boyfriend.
“Sammy?” I heard the door call, “Sammy are-are you there?”
I scurried to the door and saw my little brother standing there, sopping wet.
I pulled him in and took him to the couch. I started peeling off his clothes and when he was toweled dry and freshly clothed, I sat him down to talk.
“Lo, why did you come home alone?”
He broke down into tears, “Be-because… b-b-because mo-mom did-didn’t p-p-pick me up.”
I dragged him into a hug and let him continue.
“I.. I waited a-a-a long time an-and it w-was r-rai-raining b-but Mo-mommy said she’d come so…. So I waited then it began to r-rain harder and my f-friends daddy ask-asked me if I w-wanted a ride b-but I refused. I waited l-longer but she still didn’t c-come so I. I walked.”
“You walked a mile and a half home?”
I held him close.
“Sammy… where’s Mommy?”
“I don’t know Logan. I really don’t,” I whispered.
Later that night I tucked him in and sat in the living room. I waited for my mother until midnight, by then I was steamed. I picked up the phone and dialed her cell.
“I’m sorry, the owner of this personal cellular phone has disconnected this number,” A robotic woman told me, “goodbye.”
I grabbed my coat and took the keys off the hanger, as I drove down the highway I shivered. I wasn’t cold. I was scared.
When I stopped at the accident spot I felt overwhelmed.
It was empty. There was nothing. Not a bike or a body. I kneeled down and whimpered softly.
“They took him,” I whimpered.
“I told you that the killer’d return George,” I heard a man behind me say.
I wheeled around to see two plump police officers approaching.
“No, you’re mistaken,” I said, “my name is Samantha, my friend was killed her, I just came here to say. My uh… Prayers,” I lied to the donut-eating officers.
“Your prayers huh? Look miss, that just don’t add up. All we’s know is some kid was killed here and you show up.”
“Tell the truth sweetie, it’s always easier,” the other officer said gently.
I looked up at them and felt in my pocket for the flower I had brought to lay on him. I stood up.
They crossed their arms and waited.
“My boyfriend Drake was here. It was him in the accident. I heard about the crash and I loved him so much I came to see him,” I pulled out the flower, “I wanted to leave this with him. His favorite. The forget-me-not.” They looked at me and started laughing in unison.
“Nice actor, George, let’s take her in.”
They shoved me into their car.
“It’s the truth! I came to leave him his flower! I swear!” I yelled as we drove “downtown”.
“S***,” I whispered.
When we got there they put me in a small interviewing cell and had someone interrogate me.
I ignored him completely. After the third guy gave up and the last one came in, I caved.
His name was Bryan and I immediately liked him. He didn’t start out asking about where I was when Drake was killed. He didn’t ask about the accident until he had warmed me up. He asked about my school, my friends, and me and listened to my anecdotes with pride.
“Now, I don’t want to ask you this but I have to. Where were you the night Mr. Canfield died?”
“On the back of the bike.”
I told him how we went out for food and on our way back we swerved to avoid hitting the deer.
“I didn’t hurt him. I swear. I never would because I-”
“Loved him,” Bryan finished.
“Love,” I corrected, “I still do.”
He grasped my hand and looked into my eyes in a warm friendly way.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” I looked into his crystal blue eyes and smiled. Something that doesn’t happen often.
“She has to get home. Samantha is innocent and has a brother at home alone. Let her go.”
After much resistance, I was released and had a big beefy guy with a coffee in his hand drive me to my car.
When I got home I heard whimpering and ran in to see Logan clutching his stomach in bed. He had a horrible fever and stomachache.
“Where were you?” he asked.
I held him close and didn’t answer.
It was May and I was flipping out. I had gotten accepted into my top college, Reade, but since Logan was alone I debated skipping out. My guidance counselor needed to know if I was accepting, so I told her I wad just to shut her up.
Each night I tried my mom’s cell hoping miraculously it’d pick up. It never did. The only thing I didn’t worry about was rent. It was paid for another two years.
Finally I cracked. My mom’s money ran out and her credit card was maxxed. I called the last person on my list.
“Dad? W-we need help.”
As I relayed everything on the phone I heard an engine start and I could feel his presence coming closer. When he arrived he told me that Tiffany’s cheater beau showed up and took her to live with him to raise their love child.
I did it. Graduated high school and college. Harvard Law degree at my fingertips.
Dad took Logan to live in the glass house when I moved out.
Tiffany left the player guy who knocked her up and went back to my dad. When she went into labor I considered her a nicer mother than my real one.
My biological mother had killed herself. It turns out that when I was trying to reach her and it said that her phone was disconnected, it was floating on the top of a nondescript river a long with her body.
Logan started middle school and it would kill me if he had worse problems than mine.
Drake’s case was set aside and since he had no will (as not many 18-year old guys do) his motorcycle was sold at an auction for four hundred and fifty dollars to the one girl who really loved him.