Rellik
Page 2
“Ryder, I have had enough of your disruptions.” Ms. Simmons’s voice was stern but wavered as she spoke, because I knew from her sad glances that she knew I was struggling. Her pity only made me more defiant. “Go down to Mr. Wallace’s office.”
The class collectively gasped and snickered at my misfortune, but I forced a smile and stood tall as I pushed from my old wooden desk.
“Whatever,” I mumbled under my breath as I knocked the plastic cup over and walked to the door. As I escaped into the desolate hallway, I toyed with the idea of leaving out of one of the side exits, but I knew an alarm would sound, and I would probably end up in a lot more trouble. Reluctantly, I trudged on and entered the office. The secretary glanced over her wire-rim glasses before dropping her gaze back to her computer screen.
“To what do we owe the honor, Mr. Bentley?”
“Ms. Simmons hates me.”
She snorted as she shook her head, her fingers clacking away against her keyboard. “Mr. Wallace is in with someone right now. Sit tight.” She motioned with her chin to the three blue, plastic chairs along the wall. I sat down, groaning as I kicked out my legs and looked over the motivational posters that hung on the wall.
My fingers tapped against my jeans to a classic rock song my father played on a loop as he worked on his car that never seemed to run just right. The secretary cleared her throat as she brushed back her fire-red curls from her face, and my hand stilled.
“Can’t have any fun in this place.” The door to the principal’s office opened as I spoke, and I sat up straight, cutting off my words as a school officer exited the room, stopping to turn to Mr. Wallace and say something.
The officer’s sullen eyes landed on mine, and Mr. Wallace stopped as he replied to the officer in a hushed tone. Now both of them stared at me.
All I did was pull a stupid girl’s stupid hair. My dad was going to kill me. Why did I have to touch her? Why couldn’t I just be good like the others? Stupid girl. Stupid birthday.
“Why are you here?” Mr. Wallace’s eyebrows pulled together, causing his forehead to crease.
“I, uh…I don’t know.”
The men exchanged glances, and I was waved into the office and told to sit. The police officer stood to my right as Mr. Wallace sat on the edge of his giant oak desk in front of me. He ran his hand along his jaw with a sigh as he avoided my gaze.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out as I felt my cheeks heat and my chest tighten.
“What?”
“I didn’t think about the dirt on my fingers, and then I was embarrassed,” I rambled. When the cop placed his heavy hand on my shoulder, I jumped fractionally, and my pleas for forgiveness died in my throat. I held my breath, bracing for the punishment I had earned. Mr. Thomas, the guidance counselor and one of my mother’s friends, slipped inside the room. His eyes met Mr. Wallace’s, and he shook his head fractionally.
“I got here as quickly as I could. I had some errands to run during my lunch break.”
The officer sank down to eye level, ran his tongue over his lips, and loudly cleared his throat. “There has been an accident.”
“Ryder, your father has been in an accident. He’s at Reagan Memorial now, and your mother is with him,” Mr. Thomas spoke calmly.
“Are they okay?” It felt as though someone had stomped on my chest. This was not the kind of surprise you expected on your birthday.
“Your mother is fine. She wasn’t with your father at the time. The doctors are doing everything they can to help them.” Mr. Thomas covered my dirty hand with his damp palm. I couldn’t look him in the eye because it would only confirm that this was all real. Instead, I focused on the small bead of sweat clinging to his tanned flesh just below his auburn hair, which was uncharacteristically disheveled. “She called me and asked me to take you into the hospital.”
My thoughts briefly drifted over his words, and I had only absorbed one. “Them? What do you mean them? Who was with him?”
He looked back at the officer before offering me a sad smile. “Grab your things. We can talk more on the road. Did you have lunch yet?”
I shook my head, wondering how I could even eat after hearing something like this.
“I had just finished my lunch at Franklin’s Deli when I got the call, so we can stop at a drive-through on the way.” His hand slid from mine, and he took a step back. I slowly stood and walked toward the door, with Mr. Thomas following close behind me. The hall was still empty, something I normally loved because it felt like a different world without all the people and noise, but now it felt small and suffocating. Tragedy has a way of putting life in perspective like that. I could smell the food from the cafeteria, and it turned my stomach as I stopped in front of Ms. Simmons’s door. I gripped the handle, shoving it wide open. The entire class sat silently, staring at me as I froze in the doorway. I felt utterly and devastatingly alone.
My skin was on fire, and I could feel it dampen under my tears, but I was unable to regain my composure. Still, the world continued to spin as I cried unabashedly. I’d just wanted to be noticed, and now all I wanted was to disappear, evaporate. Kids whispered and giggled, but I heard nothing except the steady whooshing of blood in my ears as my heart raced. It felt like my veins had been electrified, and I couldn’t help but shuffle from one foot to the other. One set of eyes stayed locked on mine. Katie’s expression mirrored my own sadness as she mouthed the words, “Are you okay?” I couldn’t even find the strength to shake my head. Through blurred vision I stared down at my smudged fingers and waited for Mr. Thomas to retrieve my book bag. No one else spoke a word to me, and I wasn’t even sure I was still breathing. All I could hear were my fears in rapid succession screaming inside my head. Even in the moment of unknowing and panic, I was able to take a lesson from Katie, although it took me a few years to realize it. That moment of compassion when she owed me nothing changed something in me, but there would be a lot more changes before the day would end.
Mr. Thomas led me to his car, and I slid into the old beige Buick, the heat from the day making it feel as if I were in a sauna. As he got into the driver side, he tossed my book bag onto the backseat and offered me a sad smile.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he said as he twisted the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered before growling to life. I pulled my seat belt across my chest and clicked it into place.
“What happened?” I asked, knowing I wasn’t prepared to hear the answer.
Mr. Thomas sighed as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, and I focused on the rearview mirror. “I think I should leave that to your mother to explain.” He glanced in the rearview mirror as he drove into the turning lane and headed toward the hospital.
We rode in silence, only speaking when he asked me what food I wanted from Shambles drive-through. I rattled off a number, knowing I wouldn’t be able to eat anything until I knew my dad was okay, but maybe my mother would need something.
We parked near the emergency room entrance, and I froze, suddenly terrified to know the truth that was on the other side of the automatic doors. In this moment he was neither alive nor dead. We were suspended in a state of unknowing, and I wanted to stay there for as long as possible. My father was everything to me.
Mr. Thomas got out of the car and came to my side, pulling open the door for me. I hesitated, hating that in such a vulnerable moment, I had to force back my tears so I could be strong for my mother. I pushed myself out of the car, paper bag of food in hand, and walked toward the automatic doors that read EMERGENCY in red-lighted lettering.
Mr. Thomas kept his hand on my shoulder as he guided me from the waiting area to a set of heavy, thick, wooden doors. He hit the button on the wall, and they opened before me. The sight of doctors and patients hurrying through the mint-colored hall filled my view.
“Your mother is in the third room to the left. I have to wait out here, but if you need me, just come back through these doors.” He looked up, and I noticed that a nurse in pink scrubs stood to my side. He nodded to her, and she placed her hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shrug her away, but I didn’t have any energy. She guided me to the waiting room, which was nothing more than a hole-in-the-wall with a few blue vinyl chairs lining the walls.
When her puffy, tear-soaked eyes met mine, my mother sobbed into a tissue she had pressed against her mouth, her freshly honey-highlighted hair knotted and disheveled. I’d never seen my mother cry. She was always so happy, or at least that was the illusion I had become accustomed to. I felt like I was on autopilot, unable to think or feel. I was thankful for the numbness that had taken over, because my mother was in no state to comfort me. She lurched toward me, wrapping her arms around my shoulder and squeezing me with all her strength. She pulled back, her hands on my face, and frantically rubbed my hair as if she was examining me to make sure I was okay.
“I brought you food,” I mumbled, realizing how stupid it was to think a chicken sandwich would somehow take away her pain, but I wasn’t ready to hear about my father’s condition.
She smiled, her hand still trying to tame my hair as she sniffled. “I had lunch at Franklin’s Deli, but you should eat something, baby.”
Overwhelm
Chapter 3—Ella
Overwhelm: to defeat completely
I rubbed my damp palms over my jeans as I looked over the printed newspaper clippings that hung from pushpins across my faded-yellow bedroom wall. The timeline dated back ten years to when I was only eight years old. I’d never been this close to finding out the truth, and it was nearly overwhelming. After losing most of my research after a break-in, I had almost given up, but thanks to the Internet and the local library, I was able to rebuild my paper trail, with a few new clues along the way. My own personal memories began when I was much younger, when my world began to crumble and the wheels of fate began to spin.
* *
“I don’t want to go to Grandma’s. She’s mean and makes me eat peas.” I rubbed the back of my hand across my nose as I sniffled, struggling to hold back tears. Momma always fought to be tough for me, and I owed her the same. I knew this wasn’t what she wanted to do, like going to the doctor, but it was important because it kept me healthy.
“Don’t think of it that way, baby. Think of it as…you’re Cinderella, and you have to go stay with your fairy godmother for a while.” My mother was on edge, constantly glancing out of my bedroom window as she gathered a few of my things. My dresser drawers were left open, with clothing strewn about the floor. It felt like good-bye, one of the many times we’d run in the middle of the night, but this time was different. I wasn’t going to be by my mother’s side. I was being left behind. It stung in a way I had never felt before and couldn’t quite understand.
“But she’s an evil stepmother.”
My mother ran her hand through my long, mahogany-colored hair and smiled sadly, her eyes glossed over in unshed tears.
“Then you can be Belle.”
“But I don’t like to read.” I whined as I clung to my doll baby, whose hair was a matted knot the same color as my own. Her leg had fresh blue stitching from my mother repairing it.
“Sweetheart, you can be anyone you want to be, okay? Just like last time. Anyone you want, but we have to go.”
“But Daddy said he’d come be with us soon!”
“Ella, when did you talk to your father?”
I shrugged as I fixed the yarn hair of my homemade doll, pulling at one of the many knots. “He came to day care and said he would come to be with us soon.”
“Oh, Ella. Sweetie, you have to tell me if your daddy comes to see you. Remember? We talked about this.” I could hear the disappointment in her voice, but her smile didn’t waver.
“He said it was a surprise for you!”
She shook her head. She looked upset, and I was worried she was mad at me for ruining the secret.
“Daddy wants you to go too. He knows it is the best thing for you right now.”
“You talked to Daddy?” I couldn’t contain my excitement. It felt like it had been a lifetime since we were all together, after the cops came and took Daddy away to help them get more of the bad guys. My daddy was a hero. He promised me he would come back for us and we would be a family again when his job was done. But Momma hated having to wait for him and would always move us around a lot.
“I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”
* *
I gathered my long, stick-straight, dark hair into a ponytail, pulling an elastic band from my wrist and securing it in place as my eyes danced over the clues. My story wasn’t an uncommon one. A lot of kids get put in the system and never get a reason as to why their lives had been turned upside down. But mine had a twist, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister lay just below the surface of the details. My father was a criminal, and my mother was a thief, even if she struggled to keep that reality from me. But it’s hard to keep a secret as big as ours.
* *
“It’s just for a few weeks. I never ask you for anything.” I listened to my mother plead with my grandma outside of the cracked passenger window of her old blue Sundance.
“What have you gone and gotten yourself into now?” My grandmother folded her arms over her chest as she narrowed her eyes behind thick, clear-rimmed glasses.
“She’s your granddaughter. Don’t you have any compassion?”
“Don’t you have any sense of responsibility? You get yourself all pear-shaped and expect the world to come to your side, save the day. I told you Tommy was going to ruin your life. That man never cared about anyone but himself. Who is here to help me when I need it? I’m not young anymore, Leigh. You don’t see me asking for a handout.”
The class collectively gasped and snickered at my misfortune, but I forced a smile and stood tall as I pushed from my old wooden desk.
“Whatever,” I mumbled under my breath as I knocked the plastic cup over and walked to the door. As I escaped into the desolate hallway, I toyed with the idea of leaving out of one of the side exits, but I knew an alarm would sound, and I would probably end up in a lot more trouble. Reluctantly, I trudged on and entered the office. The secretary glanced over her wire-rim glasses before dropping her gaze back to her computer screen.
“To what do we owe the honor, Mr. Bentley?”
“Ms. Simmons hates me.”
She snorted as she shook her head, her fingers clacking away against her keyboard. “Mr. Wallace is in with someone right now. Sit tight.” She motioned with her chin to the three blue, plastic chairs along the wall. I sat down, groaning as I kicked out my legs and looked over the motivational posters that hung on the wall.
My fingers tapped against my jeans to a classic rock song my father played on a loop as he worked on his car that never seemed to run just right. The secretary cleared her throat as she brushed back her fire-red curls from her face, and my hand stilled.
“Can’t have any fun in this place.” The door to the principal’s office opened as I spoke, and I sat up straight, cutting off my words as a school officer exited the room, stopping to turn to Mr. Wallace and say something.
The officer’s sullen eyes landed on mine, and Mr. Wallace stopped as he replied to the officer in a hushed tone. Now both of them stared at me.
All I did was pull a stupid girl’s stupid hair. My dad was going to kill me. Why did I have to touch her? Why couldn’t I just be good like the others? Stupid girl. Stupid birthday.
“Why are you here?” Mr. Wallace’s eyebrows pulled together, causing his forehead to crease.
“I, uh…I don’t know.”
The men exchanged glances, and I was waved into the office and told to sit. The police officer stood to my right as Mr. Wallace sat on the edge of his giant oak desk in front of me. He ran his hand along his jaw with a sigh as he avoided my gaze.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out as I felt my cheeks heat and my chest tighten.
“What?”
“I didn’t think about the dirt on my fingers, and then I was embarrassed,” I rambled. When the cop placed his heavy hand on my shoulder, I jumped fractionally, and my pleas for forgiveness died in my throat. I held my breath, bracing for the punishment I had earned. Mr. Thomas, the guidance counselor and one of my mother’s friends, slipped inside the room. His eyes met Mr. Wallace’s, and he shook his head fractionally.
“I got here as quickly as I could. I had some errands to run during my lunch break.”
The officer sank down to eye level, ran his tongue over his lips, and loudly cleared his throat. “There has been an accident.”
“Ryder, your father has been in an accident. He’s at Reagan Memorial now, and your mother is with him,” Mr. Thomas spoke calmly.
“Are they okay?” It felt as though someone had stomped on my chest. This was not the kind of surprise you expected on your birthday.
“Your mother is fine. She wasn’t with your father at the time. The doctors are doing everything they can to help them.” Mr. Thomas covered my dirty hand with his damp palm. I couldn’t look him in the eye because it would only confirm that this was all real. Instead, I focused on the small bead of sweat clinging to his tanned flesh just below his auburn hair, which was uncharacteristically disheveled. “She called me and asked me to take you into the hospital.”
My thoughts briefly drifted over his words, and I had only absorbed one. “Them? What do you mean them? Who was with him?”
He looked back at the officer before offering me a sad smile. “Grab your things. We can talk more on the road. Did you have lunch yet?”
I shook my head, wondering how I could even eat after hearing something like this.
“I had just finished my lunch at Franklin’s Deli when I got the call, so we can stop at a drive-through on the way.” His hand slid from mine, and he took a step back. I slowly stood and walked toward the door, with Mr. Thomas following close behind me. The hall was still empty, something I normally loved because it felt like a different world without all the people and noise, but now it felt small and suffocating. Tragedy has a way of putting life in perspective like that. I could smell the food from the cafeteria, and it turned my stomach as I stopped in front of Ms. Simmons’s door. I gripped the handle, shoving it wide open. The entire class sat silently, staring at me as I froze in the doorway. I felt utterly and devastatingly alone.
My skin was on fire, and I could feel it dampen under my tears, but I was unable to regain my composure. Still, the world continued to spin as I cried unabashedly. I’d just wanted to be noticed, and now all I wanted was to disappear, evaporate. Kids whispered and giggled, but I heard nothing except the steady whooshing of blood in my ears as my heart raced. It felt like my veins had been electrified, and I couldn’t help but shuffle from one foot to the other. One set of eyes stayed locked on mine. Katie’s expression mirrored my own sadness as she mouthed the words, “Are you okay?” I couldn’t even find the strength to shake my head. Through blurred vision I stared down at my smudged fingers and waited for Mr. Thomas to retrieve my book bag. No one else spoke a word to me, and I wasn’t even sure I was still breathing. All I could hear were my fears in rapid succession screaming inside my head. Even in the moment of unknowing and panic, I was able to take a lesson from Katie, although it took me a few years to realize it. That moment of compassion when she owed me nothing changed something in me, but there would be a lot more changes before the day would end.
Mr. Thomas led me to his car, and I slid into the old beige Buick, the heat from the day making it feel as if I were in a sauna. As he got into the driver side, he tossed my book bag onto the backseat and offered me a sad smile.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he said as he twisted the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered before growling to life. I pulled my seat belt across my chest and clicked it into place.
“What happened?” I asked, knowing I wasn’t prepared to hear the answer.
Mr. Thomas sighed as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, and I focused on the rearview mirror. “I think I should leave that to your mother to explain.” He glanced in the rearview mirror as he drove into the turning lane and headed toward the hospital.
We rode in silence, only speaking when he asked me what food I wanted from Shambles drive-through. I rattled off a number, knowing I wouldn’t be able to eat anything until I knew my dad was okay, but maybe my mother would need something.
We parked near the emergency room entrance, and I froze, suddenly terrified to know the truth that was on the other side of the automatic doors. In this moment he was neither alive nor dead. We were suspended in a state of unknowing, and I wanted to stay there for as long as possible. My father was everything to me.
Mr. Thomas got out of the car and came to my side, pulling open the door for me. I hesitated, hating that in such a vulnerable moment, I had to force back my tears so I could be strong for my mother. I pushed myself out of the car, paper bag of food in hand, and walked toward the automatic doors that read EMERGENCY in red-lighted lettering.
Mr. Thomas kept his hand on my shoulder as he guided me from the waiting area to a set of heavy, thick, wooden doors. He hit the button on the wall, and they opened before me. The sight of doctors and patients hurrying through the mint-colored hall filled my view.
“Your mother is in the third room to the left. I have to wait out here, but if you need me, just come back through these doors.” He looked up, and I noticed that a nurse in pink scrubs stood to my side. He nodded to her, and she placed her hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shrug her away, but I didn’t have any energy. She guided me to the waiting room, which was nothing more than a hole-in-the-wall with a few blue vinyl chairs lining the walls.
When her puffy, tear-soaked eyes met mine, my mother sobbed into a tissue she had pressed against her mouth, her freshly honey-highlighted hair knotted and disheveled. I’d never seen my mother cry. She was always so happy, or at least that was the illusion I had become accustomed to. I felt like I was on autopilot, unable to think or feel. I was thankful for the numbness that had taken over, because my mother was in no state to comfort me. She lurched toward me, wrapping her arms around my shoulder and squeezing me with all her strength. She pulled back, her hands on my face, and frantically rubbed my hair as if she was examining me to make sure I was okay.
“I brought you food,” I mumbled, realizing how stupid it was to think a chicken sandwich would somehow take away her pain, but I wasn’t ready to hear about my father’s condition.
She smiled, her hand still trying to tame my hair as she sniffled. “I had lunch at Franklin’s Deli, but you should eat something, baby.”
Overwhelm
Chapter 3—Ella
Overwhelm: to defeat completely
I rubbed my damp palms over my jeans as I looked over the printed newspaper clippings that hung from pushpins across my faded-yellow bedroom wall. The timeline dated back ten years to when I was only eight years old. I’d never been this close to finding out the truth, and it was nearly overwhelming. After losing most of my research after a break-in, I had almost given up, but thanks to the Internet and the local library, I was able to rebuild my paper trail, with a few new clues along the way. My own personal memories began when I was much younger, when my world began to crumble and the wheels of fate began to spin.
* *
“I don’t want to go to Grandma’s. She’s mean and makes me eat peas.” I rubbed the back of my hand across my nose as I sniffled, struggling to hold back tears. Momma always fought to be tough for me, and I owed her the same. I knew this wasn’t what she wanted to do, like going to the doctor, but it was important because it kept me healthy.
“Don’t think of it that way, baby. Think of it as…you’re Cinderella, and you have to go stay with your fairy godmother for a while.” My mother was on edge, constantly glancing out of my bedroom window as she gathered a few of my things. My dresser drawers were left open, with clothing strewn about the floor. It felt like good-bye, one of the many times we’d run in the middle of the night, but this time was different. I wasn’t going to be by my mother’s side. I was being left behind. It stung in a way I had never felt before and couldn’t quite understand.
“But she’s an evil stepmother.”
My mother ran her hand through my long, mahogany-colored hair and smiled sadly, her eyes glossed over in unshed tears.
“Then you can be Belle.”
“But I don’t like to read.” I whined as I clung to my doll baby, whose hair was a matted knot the same color as my own. Her leg had fresh blue stitching from my mother repairing it.
“Sweetheart, you can be anyone you want to be, okay? Just like last time. Anyone you want, but we have to go.”
“But Daddy said he’d come be with us soon!”
“Ella, when did you talk to your father?”
I shrugged as I fixed the yarn hair of my homemade doll, pulling at one of the many knots. “He came to day care and said he would come to be with us soon.”
“Oh, Ella. Sweetie, you have to tell me if your daddy comes to see you. Remember? We talked about this.” I could hear the disappointment in her voice, but her smile didn’t waver.
“He said it was a surprise for you!”
She shook her head. She looked upset, and I was worried she was mad at me for ruining the secret.
“Daddy wants you to go too. He knows it is the best thing for you right now.”
“You talked to Daddy?” I couldn’t contain my excitement. It felt like it had been a lifetime since we were all together, after the cops came and took Daddy away to help them get more of the bad guys. My daddy was a hero. He promised me he would come back for us and we would be a family again when his job was done. But Momma hated having to wait for him and would always move us around a lot.
“I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”
* *
I gathered my long, stick-straight, dark hair into a ponytail, pulling an elastic band from my wrist and securing it in place as my eyes danced over the clues. My story wasn’t an uncommon one. A lot of kids get put in the system and never get a reason as to why their lives had been turned upside down. But mine had a twist, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister lay just below the surface of the details. My father was a criminal, and my mother was a thief, even if she struggled to keep that reality from me. But it’s hard to keep a secret as big as ours.
* *
“It’s just for a few weeks. I never ask you for anything.” I listened to my mother plead with my grandma outside of the cracked passenger window of her old blue Sundance.
“What have you gone and gotten yourself into now?” My grandmother folded her arms over her chest as she narrowed her eyes behind thick, clear-rimmed glasses.
“She’s your granddaughter. Don’t you have any compassion?”
“Don’t you have any sense of responsibility? You get yourself all pear-shaped and expect the world to come to your side, save the day. I told you Tommy was going to ruin your life. That man never cared about anyone but himself. Who is here to help me when I need it? I’m not young anymore, Leigh. You don’t see me asking for a handout.”
