“Yes, there is.”
The fun doesn’t stop coming. Scott glances at me. “Isn’t that great?”
I overly fake my response. “Awesome.”
He either chooses to ignore my sarcasm or believes my excitement. “Mr. Dwyer, could you place Beth in one of Lacy’s classes?”
Mr. Dwyer practically falls to the floor in admiration. “We’ll certainly try.” He withdraws from his own office and shuts the door.
“Were you smacked upside the head with a bat?” I can’t believe Scott expects me to attend this school.
“Only when I was five and on days that end in y,” he mumbles, still flipping through the catalog. His response pricks my chest. I’ve done my best to block out that portion of my childhood. Grandpa, his dad, used to beat the crap out of him and my dad. Scott kept him from doing the same to me. “What about Spanish?”
I actually smile. “My friend Rico taught me some Spanish. If a guy’s too touchy I can say…”
“Strike Spanish.”
Damn. That could have been fun. “Seriously, Scott. Do you really want me going to school here? Have you thought this through? Your pet with a wedding ring…”
“Allison. Her name is Allison. Let’s say it together. All-i-son. See, not so hard.”
“Whatever. She loves how everybody worships you. How long is that going to last when they remember that you’re low-life trash from the trailer park a couple miles out of Groveton?”
He stops flipping through the catalog. Even though his eyes fix on the paper, I can tell he’s no longer reading. “I’m not that kid anymore. People only care about who I am now.”
“How long do you think it will take before people remember me or Mom?” I meant to say it nasty, like a threat, but it came out soft and I hate myself for it.
Scott looks at me and I loathe the sympathy in his eyes. “They’ll remember you the way I do—a beautiful girl who loved life.”
Pissed that he keeps discussing that poor pathetic girl, I break eye contact. “She died.”
“No, she didn’t.” He pauses. “As for your mom, she moved into town her sophomore year and dropped out when she was still fifteen. People won’t remember her.”
Nausea strikes and my hand drops to my abdomen. Scott wasn’t there when the police came to the trailer and he wasn’t there to dry my tears. This is a small town and everyone knows everyone else. Even though they promised to keep that night a secret, I’m sure someone told.
“What happens to both of us when someone remembers Dad?” I ask. “No one’s going to worship you then. This is a bad mistake, Scott. Send me home.”
“Mr. Risk.” The guidance counselor from Hicksville pokes his head into the office.
Worry lines clutter his overly large forehead and his fingers white-knuckle a fax. I told him I majored in detention while at Eastwick. “Can I have a moment?”
I tilt my head, knowing the words to say to make Mr. Dwyer uncomfortable. “What was that class you wanted to put me in? Hmm.” I tap my finger to my chin. “Honors English?”
“Sit down, Elisabeth.” Scott’s getting really good at demanding things in a low voice.
“Okay, Mr. Dwyer, let’s discuss Beth’s schedule.”
Ryan
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, bow your heads and give an amen. Scott Risk’s niece is attending Bullitt County High and the dare is back in play. I weave through the crowded hallway with an extra spring in my step. Defeat is a nasty word. A word I no longer have to accept.
My mood crashes when I spot Chris backing Lacy against a locker. His head angles down as hers inches up. Not a good position to be in with the assistant principal exiting his office.
Last year, he lectured the junior class on our hormones, carnal impulses, and the consequences for those who break the body boundary barrier. In plain English: if you’re caught standing close to a person of the opposite sex, then you’ll spend a day in detention. Back-to-back state championships require practice, not detention.
“Backseats of cars work.” I ease to the other side of Chris and Lacy to block the oncoming assistant principal’s view.
“Preferably off campus.”
Chris groans when Lacy places her hand on his chest and pushes him until they’re an “acceptable” distance apart. She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Morning, Ry.”
“Go away,” Chris says flatly.
“The assistant principal is on the prowl and we are not moving practice like we did last year because you’re sitting in detention.”
Chris lets out a sigh identical to Lacy’s.
“You need a girlfriend.”
“Exactly!” Lacy throws her arms out. “I’ve been saying that for months. Not an evil girlfriend. We are not doing evil again. I was tired of wearing crucifixes. I considered carrying holy water, but then I would have had to sneak into a church and then—”
“Shut it down,” I tell her. There has always been bad blood between Gwen and Lace, but I dated Gwen once. I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting her.
The first warning bell rings, and the three of us head to English. Standing by himself, oozing perpetual boredom, Logan waits for us at the line between the seniors’ lockers and the juniors’. The four of us take as many classes as we can together. For fun. For camaraderie. For Lacy and Logan to help me and Chris with homework.