Crush

I’ll tell him what I know. I won’t say anything about seeing you. I’ll just tell him I figured it out, and he has to stop. I’ll threaten to go to the cops or something. I mean, he can’t get away with this. I can’t let him get away with it.”

“But what if he won’t stop? He’s got to know the police won’t believe you. I wouldn’t believe it myself, except…”

“I can’t let him get away with it,” Jonathan repeated. “I just can’t.”

14

As the day wore on, Jonathan’s nerves grew raw. Kirsty fixed them a lunch of chicken soup and roast-beef sandwiches, but Jonathan just nibbled at the bread and sipped a few spoonfuls of broth.

“I can fix something else,” Kirsty said.

“No. This is great. I’m just not hungry.”

“When I’m nervous, all I can think about is food, especially Twinkies.”

“Why Twinkies?”

“I used to eat them by the boxful, but I was a total cow back then.”

“Really?” Jonathan asked. “You used to be over-weight?”

“Total understatement. I was a whale. My dad What an ass.”

“Again, total understatement. He couldn’t smile unless someone else in the room was crying. He criticized everything I did. Hated everything I wore. Nothing was good enough for him. He once grounded me for a week because I didn’t set the table the way he wanted me to. I used water glasses instead of wineglasses or something. I was like six.”

“Man, that blows.”

Jonathan thought about his own parents. Their indifference was so total, they didn’t even bother to comment on his report cards. His mother acted like signing the stupid thing was an act of total martyrdom. His dad just wasn’t around.

“So your dad just left?” he asked.

“Not just left. He had to make sure me and Mom were good and miserable before he went. One night he sat us both down in the living room and told us that he was unhappy, and it was our fault. He said he couldn’t take any more disappointment in his life and thought it best to just leave, because he didn’t think we’d ever be the quality of people he wanted to associate with. That’s exactly how he put it. We weren’t the quality of people he wanted to be with, so he was leaving, and we wouldn’t hear from him and we had no one to blame but ourselves.”

“Jesus, what a tool,” Jonathan said.

“After he left, Mom had a full-on breakdown. I mean, she kept buying self-help books and writing these long essays about how we could improve ourselves as people, and she’d make me read these things. It was like it never occurred to her that maybe Dad was the screwed-up one. She totally pissed me off there for a while. I mean, when she wasn’t crying over the jerk’s leaving, she was all hyped up about projects that would make us better people. She had time-management programs, and she tried to get me to learn French and Spanish. She seemed to be over it for a while. I mean, she still watched every move I made, wanted to be sure I was acting appropriately, but a lot of the weird crap stopped. Then last night she started in again.”

“What happened last night?”

“Oh, I made the mistake of telling her about David.”

“She didn’t like him?”

“Are you kidding? He’s like a genius from a wealthy family. She wanted me to marry him, and she’s never even met him. She freaked when I told her that we broke up. You’d have thought I’d just told her I’d guzzled a glassful of poison, and she thought David was the only antidote.”

“Well, I know he really liked you,” Jonathan offered.

“I liked him, too,” Kirsty said.

Her response sounded like a reflex to Jonathan, not really heartfelt, but he understood. After all, she’d only known David for a few days. It was natural for Kirsty to be confused about how she felt. Jonathan knew the feeling well.

“I wish I knew how all of this happened,” Jonathan said.

“Maybe he’ll tell you.”

Maybe, Jonathan thought. But he was afraid to ask.

Jonathan drifted out of sleep and was startled by the sensation of being covered. Smothered. A Reaper had come for him in his sleep. Desperate to be free, he rolled, but the thing wrapped more tightly around him. He couldn’t breathe. It was all over him, surrounding his head. Jonathan kicked, but his feet were tangled in the fabric of the thing. He swung out with an arm, but it was pinned between his body and the back of the sofa. He tried the other arm and felt the material give. Finally, opening his eyes, he saw the blanket covering him and threw it on the floor. His chest heaved for air, as if he’d genuinely been suffocating.

He looked around, confused by the strange room. The walls were painted a deep brown. The furniture was old and heavy with intricately patterned cushions. Two wrought-iron stands held candles by a large brick fireplace.

His waking mind raced, trying to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there. Then he remembered: Kirsty’s house.

Jonathan sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A cool film of sweat covered his neck, and his pores felt oily.

“You’re awake,” Kirsty said.

He turned toward the voice and saw Kirsty sitting in a high-backed chair. Had she been sitting there long? Was she watching him sleep?

A cold tingle ran down Jonathan’s back.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s after five,” Kirsty said. “I tried waking you up at three, but you were out cold.”

“Damn,” Jonathan said, knowing he’d missed his chance to confront David at school. He could see through the curtains that it was already getting dark outside. If he wanted to speak to David, he would have to go to his house. At night.

“You must have been exhausted.”

“Yeah,” he said, still groggy. “I guess I haven’t been sleeping much lately. It must have caught up with me.”

“Do you want some coffee? I made some.”

“Sure,” Jonathan said. “Yeah, please.”

After Kirsty left the room, he blinked his eyes rapidly and yawned. When he stood, the room tilted to the left, then rocked back to the right. Jonathan took a deep breath and waited for the room to level off. He yawned again.

Kirsty returned and handed him a mug of coffee. It was rich and tasted wonderful. Immediately his head cleared. The remnants of his exhaustion faded.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For falling asleep.”

“It’s okay. You’ve been through so much.” Kirsty put her hand on Jonathan’s back. She rubbed slow circles over his shoulder blade. “You can talk to David tomorrow.”

“No,” he said. “We really shouldn’t wait. After coffee, I’ll head over to his house.”

“That’s really brave,” Kirsty said. She leaned her head on his shoulder; her hand continued to rub his back.

The scent of Kirsty’s shampoo, a mix of almond and vanilla, filled his nose. He drank more of the coffee and stared at the red carpet. The moment confused him. She was touching him, leaning on him for comfort. Part of his mind was in a full-on panic, and it sent waves of unease through his body. But another part of his mind liked this contact. Needed it. It was warm, and he didn’t want it to stop.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Kirsty asked.

The question surprised him. He immediately thought she was making a romantic advance, but that was more