Leaving Paradise

Page 6

"It's my job to stay on you, Caleb. But I can't help if you won't share with me."
I look up at the sky and shake my head. "I don't need your help. My parents and sister ... they need help more than me. Why don't you treat them like the guinea pig?"
"You've been away for almost a year. Give 'em a break. You act as though they should be apologizing to you instead of the other way around. What did they do wrong, huh? Maybe you should blame yourself once in a while, Caleb. The experience might be eye opening."
"The truth would be eye opening," I say back.
Click. Click. "What?"
I shake my head. "Nothing. Just forget it."
Damon opens his folder again. That folder probably tells Damon everything about my life before, during, and after my arrest. I wonder if the time I tee-peed Joe Sanders' house is in there. Or the time I beat up a guy from Fremont High for teasing my sister about her perm gone wrong. I used to be looked up to, the cool rebel. Now I'm a convict. Not cool.
He hands me a few sheets of paper. "You live in a small town, Caleb. Not much in choices for community service jobs, but on your questionnaire you said you had experience in construction and small home improvements."
"I worked construction during summers for my uncle," I tell him.
"Okay, then. You'll be required to check in at The Trusty Nail hardware store on Monday after school at three forty-five sharp. Don't be late. They'll assign you a job site and drop off all supply materials needed. When you're done with a job, get a completion sheet signed. Easy enough?" Sure.
"I just have a few more questions. Then you don't have to see my ugly mug for another week." When Damon looks up at me he asks, "Any physical contact?"
"As in sex?"
Damon shrugs. "I don't know, you tell me. Was the old girlfriend waiting on your front stoop when you got home yesterday?"
The urge to laugh gets caught in my throat. "Hardly. My sister hugged me, my dad shook my hand, and I got a few pats on the back from my mom's random friends last night."
"Did you initiate it?"
"No. You're creeping me out, man."
"Caleb, some guys have attachment problems when they get home. They have a hard time understanding what physical contact is appropriate and what--"
"I touched a girl," I say, interrupting.
Click. "Tell me about it."
I think back to last night, when Maggie tried to stand. The fierce pain she felt was emphasized by her clenched teeth, balled fists, and furrowed eyebrows. Since I've been home, Maggie has been the only person I've actually reached out to touch. It hadn't gone well.
"A girl needed help getting up, so I tried to steady her. End of story." Well, sort of.
"Did she thank you?"
I hesitate, then pick up a rock and chuck it all the way to the baseball field on the other side of the park. "She yanked herself out of my grasp. Isn't that what you want to hear?"
"If it's the truth."
I turn and give him a look. He knows I'm not fuckin' with him.
"Maybe you were too rough."
"I was not too rough," I say harshly.
"Who was she?"
I reach around and massage the persistent knot on the back of my neck. If I don't answer, Damon'll probably show up tomorrow and every day until I spill the beans. What's the big deal anyway? I glance at the old oak, half expecting to spot Maggie sitting there, her expression wary and angry.
I look over to Damon who's still waiting for an answer. Then I finally say it. "I touched the girl who I went to jail for maiming." Click.
Ten
Maggie
"Are you okay?" Sabrina asks.
I'm sitting on the floor in front of my locker at school, figuring out which books I need to bring with me to first period. First days of school are always hard to adjust to after a summer off. I've had a whole year off. I look up at her and say, "Yeah, except I'm dreading Mrs. Glassman's trig class."
"So you're not freaking out?"
"I hear she's tough, but I can--"
"I'm not talking about Glassman, Maggie. I'm talking about Caleb being in school today. Duh!"
I lose the grip on the book I'm holding. "What?"
"He's in Meyer's office."
Wait. One. Minute. "I heard he wasn't coming back to school." Mom told me this morning; she heard it at the diner.
"You obviously heard wrong, 'cause Danielle saw him." I peek down J Hall.
"I thought you said seeing him was no biggie." Um...
Brianne runs down the hall, heading in my direction. "Did you hear?" she says when she catches her breath.
"She heard," Sabrina says, her hand on her hip. "But she says it's no big deal. The girl has serious denial issues."
Forgetting my locker, I shove the mass of books inside. I'm still sitting on the hard tile floor, but don't trust myself to stand without making a bigger scene.
To make matters worse, now Danielle is walking down the hall with five people flanking her. She's deep in conversation, probably relaying the story of the year.
And it's only the first day of school.
Too bad I didn't get the packets for Spain in the mail yet. I need something positive to focus on today. Because seeing Caleb--again--is a big deal. The biggest. And I can do nothing but sit here and play the unaffected girl. The affected doesn't do so great playing the unaffected. At least when it's me.
"There she is!" Danielle's excitement makes everyone crowd around me. I wish I could snap my fingers and make them all disappear. Or make me disappear. I liked it better when I was invisible.
"So, what's the scoop?" Sabrina asks Danielle.
"Well ..." Danielle says, pausing on purpose to make sure she has everyone's attention. "My mom is on the school board and I overheard they made Caleb a deal. He has to take junior final exams in all his classes and then he can officially be a senior. If he fails, he'll be held back a year."
"He's a dumb wrestling jock," Brynn Healey chimes in. "He'll never pass."
He's not dumb; I know he's smarter than people think. When we were in elementary school, Caleb got a ribbon for getting the highest GPA in sixth grade one semester. He was proud; you should have seen the huge grin on his face as they handed the ribbon to him.
Caleb got teased by his friends for proudly displaying it on his sports trophy shelf. They started calling him names and accused him of having a secret affair with our three-hundred-pound English teacher, Ms. Bolinsky. After that, Leah told me he gave her the ribbon. Caleb's grades dropped and he never got another ribbon. The relief on his face each time they presented it to someone else was so obvious. Well, obvious to me.
The bell rings and, luckily, the mob starts to disperse.
I just pray Caleb ignores me if we ever come face to face again.
I grab my locker to steady myself and stand. Closing the door, I head toward my first-period class. I'm late, but assume my limp excuse will work.
I catch sight of Leah coming out of the bathroom.
My old best friend walks toward me, not paying attention because she's looking down.
If things were different, I'd ask her why she wears all black clothes. If things were different, I'd ask her how it feels having her brother back.
When she finally does look up and notices I'm in her path, she makes an about-face and scurries away.
ELEVEN
Caleb
The school principal is standing over my desk. The desk has been placed in the man's office so I can take the dreaded exams.
I should never have come back to school. I'd gone to classes in the DOC; it was part of the juvenile inmate program. The tests aren't the problem, either. It's the way Meyer is staring at me like he's never seen an ex-con before. The unnecessary attention is driving me insane.
I focus on the second final exam placed in front of me this morning. It isn't as if I'm acing the tests so far, but I haven't flunked them either. "You done?" Meyer asks.
I have one more algebra question left, but with the guy standing over me it's close to impossible to concentrate. Not wanting to fuck it up, I'm doing my best to answer the question correctly.
It takes me five minutes longer than it should, but I'm finally ready for the next exam.
"Go have lunch, Becker," Meyer orders after collecting the test.
Lunch? In the cafeteria with half the student body? No way, man. "I'm not hungry."
"You gotta eat. Feed that brain of yours."
What did he mean by that? Stop being paranoid, I tell myself. That's one of the side effects of being jailed. You always analyze people's words and expressions as if they're playing with you. A joke on the ex-con, ha ha.
I stand. Beyond the principal's door are over four hundred students waiting for a glimpse of the guy who went to jail. I rub the knot that just reappeared on the back of my neck.
"Go on," Meyer urges. "You have three more exams so move those feet. Be back here in twenty-five minutes."
I put my sweaty palm on the door handle, twist, and take a deep breath.
Out in the hallway, I don't waste any time and head for the cafeteria. Once inside, I ignore all of the stares. Coffee. I need strong, black coffee. That'll ease my nerves and keep me awake the rest of the afternoon. Scanning the room, I remember there's no coffee available for students. I bet they have a coffee pot in the teachers' lounge, though.
Would they notice if I steal one cup? Or will they call the police and claim I'm a thief in addition to the other labels already tattooed on my back.
I spot my sister sitting alone. She used to sit by Maggie and their other friends, giggling and flirting with my friends.
That's what sucked about having a twin of the opposite sex. It was bad enough when my sister had crushes on my friends and would bug us when they'd hang at my house. She'd slap on the makeup and act all giggly and flirty ... I still cringe thinking about it. What's worse is when I realized the tide changed and my friends actually wanted to get into my sister's pants. That changed it into a whole new ball game. I spent a lot of time last summer threatening to cut my own friends' balls off. I've always made sure my sister was protected, her reputation as well as her social status.
A year has gone by.
Boy, how things have changed. Nobody even looks in Leah's direction now.
"Hey, sis," I say, straddling the cafeteria bench opposite her.
Leah twirls spaghetti around her fork, the hot lunch special of the day. "I heard about the exams," she says.
I let out a short, cynical laugh. "My brain is already fried and I still got three more to go."
"You think you passed?"
I shrug. "Don't know."
"Rumor has it Morehouse made up a social studies exam you couldn't possibly pass."
Didn't I already pay my debt to society? "Really?"
"Yeah. Caleb, what if you flunk?"
I don't want to think about it, so I ignore her question. When I happen to glance at the entrance to the cafeteria, in walks Kendra. Is she my ex, or did we just take a leave of absence from each other? The answer lies in her reaction to me. She hasn't spotted me yet. Good. I'm not ready to talk to her in front of the whole frickin' school. "I gotta go."
I bolt out the side door of the cafeteria, the one leading to the small gymnasium.