We Were Ghosts--The Secret Life of a Survivor Page 9

  I slowly walked around him and got a glimpse of his back. Giant red welts were forming along his broad back and shoulders. The skin on his back had the same scars on it, but there were a lot more of them. I wondered how long he had been living like this.

  Shoving the medicine and water into his hands, I stared down at the dark patches blossoming along his back. I needed to get the ice on him quickly. After he popped the pills into his mouth and guzzled the water, I gave him the hand towel and guided his hand up to put pressure on his nose. He followed my lead and held the towel automatically.

  I carefully placed the bags of ice against two of the worst areas. I was careful to move the ice around every few minutes so that he wouldn’t get too cold. I thought about wrapping the bags with a towel to cut down the coldness, but it wouldn’t have done anything for his welts. I had never seen anything like this in my life and I never wanted to again.

  I kept listening for the sound of the door, afraid that his father would come home. I wasn’t afraid for me, but I was afraid for what his father would do to him if his secret got out. I was more than willing to grab one of the knives from the butcher’s block and defend myself. After all, it was easier to defend yourself from an angry stranger than a serial liar who could ruin your life.

  I smiled for the first time in my life when I thought about what Phil would do to Zack’s father if he dared to hurt me. The demon could fight the devil all he wanted, but he wouldn’t win against Phil.

  My hands were getting numb, so I dropped one of the bags on the table and pulled a dishtowel from the fridge handle and covered my hand with it before reapplying the ice.

  “Is it too cold?” I asked, trying to gauge if he’d had enough of the cold packs.

  “He punched me in the face,” he said softly, breaking his silence.

  “I can see that,” I replied. Based on his indifferent tone, I wasn’t sure if he was actually talking to himself or me.

  “I can’t even remember what happened. I’m trying to recall what I said to him and I can’t,” he said, his voice thick with tears.

  His shoulders shook as he broke down and cried. I stood motionless with the ice in my hand. I watched him sob with his arms folded on top of the kitchen table. From the sound of it, he had done nothing to deserve the beating, which I had assumed. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where this kind of beating had been earned.

  I forced my frozen joints to move as I knelt down next to him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, placing my hand lightly on his leg.

  He gulped and looked over at me. “Why? Why are you sorry?” he asked. He sounded surprised that I cared about him being hurt.

  Rage filled my insides when I realized that no one had comforted him during these beatings. He had no idea how to accept sympathy. My heart broke when I thought about all the times he had sat at this table alone and cried.

  “I’m sorry because no one stopped him. I’m sorry because no one was here to comfort you or dry your tears,” I said, reaching out to brush the back of my hand along his cheek. “I’m sorry that you have to go through this at all.”

  The gesture seemed unfamiliar to him, though he accepted my kindness. He sniffled and stared at me. He moved his hand toward me and put his fingers in the strands of hair that had fallen in front of my face. He gently pulled them back and tucked them behind my ear.

  “I meant what I said the other day. You’re really pretty,” he whispered, as a stray tear rolled off his chin.

  I smiled at the way he said the word pretty, like he was in awe. Though I’d heard the phrase before, I liked the way he said it. Part of me didn’t believe him because of my own insecurities, but the rest of me rejoiced.

  “Thank you,” I replied, unsure of how to respond. I rose up on my knees and slowly held out my arms to hug him, careful to avoid his back.

  He leaned his cheek on the top of my head and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. We sat like that for a little while until he got control of his emotions. He finally sat up and wiped his face. Reality seemed to snap back into place as he looked up at the clock and back at me.

  “You need to go. My mom’s upstairs asleep, but my dad will be home at any minute. His trips to the liquor store don’t usually take this long. You can’t be here when he gets back,” he said, grabbing the ice from the table and putting the towel back on the refrigerator.

  “I’m not afraid of him,” I said defiantly.

  The look of shock that passed across his face made me wince. “You don’t want to see him when he’s drunk and angry. There’s no stopping him,” he whispered, afraid of what would happen if I stayed.

  I looked him in the eyes and shrugged. “Right now I’m mad enough to scare him. I may not be able to fight my own battles, but I’m capable of standing up for someone else,” I said, crossing my arms.

  He frowned and looked at my crossed arms. “You’re a good wingman, but I can’t watch him hurt you,” he said as he sniffled.

  I nodded my head at his concern for me. “Okay, I’ll go. Try to get some sleep,” I said lowering my arms.

  He looked down and realized that he didn’t have a shirt. Touching his chest, he searched the room for it.

  “It’s soaking in the sink,” I said, suddenly embarrassed by his bare chest. He was more ripped than I thought. Seeing him like this, I was surprised by how powerful his arms and chest were. I wondered why he didn’t hit his father back or at least stand up to him. Then again, I understood the reasons people had for submitting. Zack probably had nowhere to go if his dad kicked him out of the house.

  I moved toward the back door and left Zack to clean up the bloody hand towel and put away the water glass. He ran to the door and grabbed the doorknob before I could reach it. He opened the door for me and held it open.

  I smiled at the gesture and nodded, acknowledging the gentlemanly act.

  He held out his hand to me and I place my palm against his. His hands were warmer than mine were and drier.

  “I wish I had your courage,” he said sincerely. “Thank you for being here for me.”

  “No one should have to go through this alone,” I replied as I squeezed his hand. “Sadly, I’m not brave, I’m just angry. My anger makes me do stupid things sometimes, like confront mean teenage girls.” I chuckled at my supposed act of courage.

  The corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile. “We have to find a way to make you less angry. I want to be there for you too. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone either.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t willing to think about my situation. It was easier to block it out, though I appreciated his offer to help me find a better way to deal with my anger.

  I waved goodbye as I walked down the steps. He appeared sad and almost confused as I left. I couldn’t figure out his expression until later that night. I realized that he had long ago given up on being rescued. This was the only life he knew and he couldn’t imagine anyone helping him. It seemed that we had a lot in common.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, I couldn’t take my eyes off Zack. Every time he moved, I winced. Though he rarely acknowledged the pain he must have felt, I experienced every second of it. I had often wished for physical proof of my pain, but after seeing Zack’s injuries, I was grateful that I had never suffered like that.

  Zack was quiet for most of the day, though he did talk to his friends in the hallway when he was approached. He was still getting harassed by some of the guys for sitting at my lunch table and being my date to the dance, but Zack accused them of being jealous since most of them didn’t have dates. He managed to downplay some of the drama, but there were still a few die-hard mockers who wouldn’t give up. One of them even mocked me directly by making kissy faces at me. I gave him the finger and told him that he had fish lips, which was why he didn’t have a date.

  Heather, on the other hand, had started spreading a rumor that I was paying Zack to take me to the dance. By lunchtime, the rumor had exploded and I couldn’t
get away from it. The amount of my bribe kept escalating and was up to $1000, according to one of the senior girls.

  I ignored the rumors and smiled because none of them were going with Zack. I wondered what they would say if they knew the truth about him. Would they have iced his back and held his hand last night, or would they have ran back to their safe little world and hidden under their covers.

  Zack didn’t say anything about the previous night. Thankfully, he didn’t seem upset with me and even held my hand again during lunch. He was winning over Megan, though Kris still kept her distance. Jill had been preoccupied with last minute homework and didn’t talk much about the rousing topic of gross pizza toppings.

  On the way to Health, Zack walked with me through the hallways. “So, I hear that you’re paying me a month’s allowance so that I will take you to the dance,” he laughed as he winked at me.

  “That’s a steal as far as I’m concerned. I was willing to give you a month’s allowance and a gift card to Blockbuster. You can rent ten movies during the month with that card. I’m happy that I was able to keep my ace in the hole. I may have to put it on the table and request a good night kiss,” I teased.

  His smile shifted into a frown, and for a split second, his eyes grew stormy. The concentration on his face was fascinating. It looked like he was trying to remember every song lyric he’d ever heard.

  He wet his lips and looked away. “You know, I could use a Blockbuster gift card. There are some good movies coming out this month,” he said nodding his head.

  My eyebrows flew up and I put my hand over my chest, pretending to be offended. “Had I known that you were such a movie fanatic, I would have opened the bid with the Blockbuster card and added the buy one, get one free Dunkin’ Donuts coupon for a corsage to go with my tacky costume,” I laughed.

  He laughed and almost ran into the back of someone because he was too busy looking at me. He cleared his throat and glance at me from the corner of his eye. “Have you decided what you’re wearing to the dance?”

  I bit my nail and had the sudden urge to kick something again. “I’m wearing a flapper costume. It’s gaudy and too short. I made a poor decision due to my disgust with the costume designers of the world.”

  His mouth fell open and he dropped his pen. “How short is the dress?” he blurted out.

  I laughed at his unwavering interest in my dress. “It comes to about here,” I said, making a slashing motion against my upper thigh.

  I had never seen Zack trip over his own feet before. I had seen him gracefully dive around a student who had stopped in the middle of the hall to tie his shoe, throw a pen at someone with pinpoint accuracy, and even watched the amazing way he drank water from the water fountain, but I had never witnessed a moment of clumsiness. It was endearing.

  “Are you going to be allowed out of the house in that?” he asked, trying to play off his lack of coordination on a leg cramp.

  “No,” I replied as I hefted out a breath.

  His pout almost ruined my good mood.

  “I’ll find a way to make it to the dance, if you still want to go. I don’t want you to go if you’re still in pain,” I said, leaning in and lowering my voice.

  His eyes snapped to the ground and his face fell.

  I admonished myself for breaking the line between our secret lives and school lives. I looked away and swore to myself I would never cross the line again. The pain on his face was too much to bear. I should have kept my mouth shut. I certainly didn’t want to talk about my problems away from home. What had made me slip up like that? My heart sputtered when I realized that my concern for him was growing by the day. I immediately accepted that I cared about him as more than a friend. I was starting to fall for him.

  Tapping the desk, I watched the clock tick by one second at a time as I tried to figure out how to penetrate the block of ice that had formed between us. When the last second ticked by, I turned to him, armed with no less than ten potential apologies, depending on whether or not he looked in my direction. I was about to speak when Zack looked me in the eyes. The wall was gone and his eyes were stormy again.

  “I don’t care if both of my legs are broken; we are going to that dance. It’s the only thing keeping me together right now. Just so we’re clear, I don’t need a gift card, or money, or anything else to give you a good night kiss,” he whispered so that Amber, the girl sitting behind him, didn’t overhear him.

  He was out of his chair and down the hallway before I remembered how to blink, breathe, and stand on two legs. The flutter in my chest meant that I was having a heart attack or that I had fallen completely in love with him. I was hoping for the latter.

  I had no idea what went on during the rest of the afternoon because I kept replaying his statement until I had the exact tone in his voice and the fire in his eyes memorized. My skin felt tight and warm and my pulse refused to calm down. He wanted to kiss me willingly. He wanted to go to the dance with me regardless of the thousands of reasons not to. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t control the wave of emotions that swung back and forth. I was pretty certain that I had busted out into hysterical laughter in the middle of History, but it could have been a hallucination.

  All I could think about was having Zack’s lips pressed against mine instead of what’s his face—Mack, Mike, Mitch, the jerk who was mostly a distant memory. I wanted to kiss him more than I ever wanted anything in the world. I just had to figure out how to get to the dance.

  Standing in the bathroom, I fidgeted with the gold streamers until they were lying flat against my legs. I tugged a little too hard on my black gloves and almost tore the seam running along the bottom of my arm. No matter which way I pulled at the top of the stupid dress, it didn’t cover enough surface area. I was never going to be allowed to get into the car. I cursed the dress, the people who made it, and the people who inspired it. I was an idiot for believing that I could make this work.

  Closing my eyes, all I could think about was standing in front of Zack and putting my arms around his neck. I wanted to dance with him, even though I didn’t have a clue how to dance. I figured that I would just wing it once the music started. He was able to move around a football field, so I assumed he would get us around the dance floor without an incident.

  My mom knocked on the door for the fifth time. “Can I see yet?” she asked. She was excited for me and living vicariously through my non-date. I wanted to yell at her, but her enthusiasm was sweet.

  I opened the door a crack and let her in. I shut the door when I spied the edge of Phil’s shirt creeping toward the door.

  My mother put her hand on her cheek and lit up when she saw me. “You look so grown up,” she said, smiling.

  “I look stupid,” I sneered at my reflection.

  She waved her hand and ignored my statement. “You just need makeup. Let me help you,” she said without missing a beat.

  I wanted to smack the eyeliner out of her hand. Did she want me murdered tonight? The outfit was bad enough without face paint.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit extreme to put on lipstick?” I nearly shouted to the ceiling.

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed my chin. “Stay still,” she said, her hand becoming a vice grip.

  Before I could run, she was applying all sorts of goop to my face. She had always wanted a daughter who loved to put curlers in her hair and wear nice outfits. Instead, she got me. I wore jeans, small silver ball earrings, and Chap Stick. The concept of fashion was like a foreign language that I didn’t want to learn. Normally, I would have allowed my mother to do whatever she wanted to my face, but tonight was not the night for exploring my feminine side.

  When I turned to face the mirror, I only saw my mother’s beaming face. She was enjoying this. I wished that I could share her enthusiasm, but I was too afraid. As my eyes shifted across the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. My blue eyes were brighter because of the dark eyeliner and my pale cheeks had picked up the red in the lipstick and made them
look rosy. My heart sank when I appeared older. My punishment tonight would be worse than anything I had ever faced before, even the incident at Megan’s house. I suddenly wanted to trade places with Zack for the night and stay at his house.

  I swallowed and looked back to my mom’s proud smile.

  “Can you take me to the dance? I know you don’t like to drive at night, but I promise that I will let you take pictures of Megan and me in the parking lot,” I said, appealing to my mother’s peculiar obsession with documenting our lives on photo paper.

  She frowned until she looked at my dress. She tilted her head and shrugged. “I guess I can take you. Phil already had plans to run to the store after dropping you off, but I guess I can get the milk on the way home.”

  I nearly gagged when I imagined Phil emptying the contents of every milk, soda, and water container in the house as an excuse to linger at the dance. He had probably already stored extra drink containers somewhere nearby so that he didn’t actually have to go to the store.

  I recovered quickly and hugged her. “Thank you.”

  My palms were sweating through the satin gloves as we approached the school. I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets so that they wouldn’t shake. I was happy that I had been ushered out the door by my mother when she realized that we were going to be late because she decided to pin up my hair in a vaguely 20’sesque hairstyle. I had grabbed my long jacket and wrapped it around me like a strait jacket before Phil could get a good look at me.

  With the first part of my plan achieved—getting safely away from Phil, I addressed the next part of my stressful evening—dancing with Zack.

  Interaction between two people who were interested in each other should have been an easy thing to handle, but my mind was completely scattered as I envisioned all the horrible things that could go wrong during the night. The highlights of my nightmare evening included Heather planning a Carrie moment where she doused me in blood, Zack realizing that he was in love with anyone other than me and leaving me crying in the bathroom, and a zombie apocalypse. If any of those scenarios were going to happen, I was hoping for the zombie apocalypse. I had a greater chance of survival and a decent chance at a better life while killing monsters and rummaging for food.