“Pete, stop. Please. I get that you’re mad, but we have a good thing here. We love each other.”
He laughed his sarcastic, mirthless laugh again. “You’re a liar and a whore. This is strike two, in case you forgot. It’s now a pattern. We’re done.” He shut the window and closed the curtain, the finality and shock of his words sinking in as I stood rooted in place.
I stumbled back to my car blinded by tears and screamed once inside, banging the steering wheel with my fists. I gasped and heaved for air. I couldn’t breathe or see the road, but I had to escape. I started the ignition, put the car in gear and drove aimlessly, screaming into the empty car.
Then I knew. I steered a few blocks to the only other place I could conceive of going, despite the gamble. I hadn’t talked to Katy in months, ever since we drifted apart once I began spending my free time with Pete and his friends.
I pulled up at her house, half-heartedly collected myself and tiptoed to her bedroom window. It took me a few minutes to scrounge up the courage to knock on it, but I did. The shade flew open a moment later, and she gaped at me in surprise. She motioned me over to the front door.
“What the hell happened to you?” she said.
I glanced around nervously as I stepped into the foyer.
“It’s cool. My parents are at church. They go early.”
Over sobs, I pieced together the events, from Pete to the country club to getting arrested to the fight with my father and back to Pete again and his final cruel words.
For once, Katy was speechless, but only for a moment. “Let’s take one thing at a time—your dad first. That’s child abuse, Anna. We should report it.”
“No! I can’t. He’d kill me.”
“But, honey, he beat you up. Like, seriously. Your eyes are turning black and you’ve got welts and bruises on your body.”
I cried some more. “I know. It hurts all over.”
Katy handed me a few aspirin and a shot of something nasty from her parent’s liquor cabinet while she made me a cup of hot tea.
“We don’t have to make that decision today,” she said. “As for Pete, he’s an idiot. Although I can understand why he’s pissed about the hot tub thing.”
Convulsing sobs wracked my body. Katy held me, saying I could do better than Pete, but I was inconsolable. I had failed everyone I loved. And for what?
I sat up, blowing my nose into a tissue. “When are your parents coming home? I don’t want them to see me like this.”
“Soon.”
“I don’t want to be alone. Will you come for a drive?”
Katy paused. “Let me change first.”
How much longer did I have before my parents reported me missing, or at the very least, their car? Were the police already looking for me? I drove us to The Point, a safe hideaway, and parked. Perched on the stone barrier that overlooked the bay, Katy whipped out a bottle of wine she’d snagged from her house. I gratefully drank from it, looking for anything to numb the myriad of feelings coursing through me.
“Remember when we used to make those elaborate plans for running away?” I said.
She laughed. “Heck yeah. Your name was going to be Bailey Shifflet and mine—
“Jackie Nelson.”
Katy smiled. “I’ll bet I still have the map of routes I plotted out in the back of my closet somewhere.”
“Katy,” I said, looking at her. “I’m sorry. You know, about everything.”
“Me, too. I don’t even know what happened or why we’re not hanging out anymore. You were my best friend.”
“And you were mine. I miss you.” The truth.
We drank the rest of the bottle, reminiscing and catching up.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I honestly didn’t, but in the back of my mind, running away began to sound more attractive.
“You okay to drive? I should be getting back before my parents freak out.”
I nodded yes.
Once on the road again, we tried to best each other with what we hated about our folks.
“I hate how my mother makes me dry the tops of the glasses in the dishwasher before I can put them away,” she said.
“I hate how my dad blows his nose so loud every single morning, it wakes the entire house. He sounds like a damn foghorn.”
“My dad hacks up a giant wad of stuff and spits it out in the sink but doesn’t rinse it down the drain. Mega gross!”
I scrunched up my face. “My mother makes me iron napkins and tablecloths. Who does that? It’s medieval!”
“My mother forces me to practice the piano for an hour every day. And sets a timer.”
“I hate how my dad wakes up at the crack of dawn and decides that’s the time to unload the dishwasher. Hel-lo! Some people are trying to sleep.”
“I hate how my parents make little muffled sounds when they’re having sex even though they’re pretending not to.”
“Eww!” I said. “I doubt mine even do it anymore, but if they do, I don’t want to know about it.”
“I found a vibrator in my mom’s bedside table,” Katy said.
“Seriously? What did you do with it?”
“What do you think? I tried that sucker out.”
We broke into peals of laughter. I laughed so hard, I cried.
“Anna, look out!” Katy screamed.
I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The car skidded off the road, rolling over and over into the ravine deep below.
39
Surreal
As I entered the church, the sheer number who’d gathered blew my mind. Seats in every pew were occupied with friends, parents, teachers, students and neighbors, all from
