My Kind of Crazy - Robin Reul Page 0,57
tell him.
It’s really starting to sink in that once I graduate, Shop ’n Save will pretty much be all I have. Wake up, go to work, face dented cans out, mop up spills, and ring up harried housewives with screaming toddlers on their hips. Go home. Sleep. Rinse. Repeat. Graduation is less than a month away, and the thought is depressing as hell.
Dad finally turns to me and says, “Looks like we’re back to microwave dinners for a while, huh? I never thought I’d miss Monica’s cooking, but you knew it was time to eat when the smoke alarm went off.” He laughs but I know that he’s lonely without her. If he hadn’t been such an asshole and brought it on himself, I’d almost feel sorry for him.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Nah. I think I screwed that one up pretty good.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “She could be such a pain in the ass, but I miss having her around.”
He isn’t the only one.
“I think she was good for you, Dad,” I say. “You should call her.”
“I don’t know that there’s anything I could say that she wants to hear.” He winces slightly and I can tell he’s been thinking about it. I offer a little encouragement, hoping that he does call her. She’s good for him.
“You never know until you try.”
“Maybe.” He turns back to the TV.
The microwave beeps, and I pull out my steaming plastic tray of semi-edible food, grab a fork, and head upstairs. After I finish eating, I lie on my bed and read the comic Peyton bought for me for the millionth time, but I’m distracted.
My thoughts keep drifting to what Nick said in class, about how she’s always talking about me. I wonder if that’s true. Honestly, I’m kind of relieved that whatever was going on between them is over. I can’t really be pissed at Nick for liking Peyton, then going after Amanda, because it’s not any different than what I’ve done, just the other way around.
I’m glad that Amanda didn’t pick me. Because the truth is, I’m okay with no one knowing what I did. Especially Amanda Carlisle. From the get-go, that stupid promposal was a half-baked idea that went from bad to worse, and I was a coward. I started a frickin’ fire, and I ran away. I didn’t even try to warn her or call for help or even attempt to put it out. I was more worried that I’d get in trouble and prove I was the screwup Dad thinks I am. My actions weren’t romantic or heroic, and I’m certainly no Prince Charming. It’s down-right embarrassing.
I shut off my light sometime around midnight, and I toss and turn trying to fall asleep. My room is cold and I can’t seem to find a comfortable position. Eventually, I drift off into a light sleep.
Around 3:00 a.m., I startle awake at a sound at my window, only to find there really are such things as monsters.
17
The pebbles hit my window hard enough to wake me but not enough to actually break the glass. I can make out someone standing in the shadows, and although I can’t make out her face in the moonlight, I instantly recognize it’s Peyton. She’s dressed all wrong for how chilly it’s been at night lately, wearing an oversize T-shirt and our school gym sweats, and rubbing her bare arms for warmth. She seems frantic. Something is wrong.
I jump out of bed and take the stairs two at a time, but I am ill prepared for what I find when I open the door. It’s Peyton all right, but her hair is short, cut off at all sorts of crazy angles with long wisps sticking out here and there. Even in the low light, I can see the fresh, angry bruises on her left arm where someone grabbed hold and held on with force. The collar of her shirt is torn, and her left cheek is swollen and red. Her lower lip is split and covered in dried blood. She looks as if she will completely fall apart if I touch her.
“Holy shit, who did this to you?”
My mind runs with the possibilities. Because whoever could do a thing like this to another human being…
She steps toward me and folds herself into me, wrapping her arms around my neck. She holds on to me, shivering.
She lets out heaving sobs, gasping to catch her breath in between like she’s about to hyperventilate, and I