Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
KARTER
Thirteen Years Old
T he blades of grass are tickling the bottoms of my bare feet as we walk over them. Every now and then, I step on a pebble, but I don’t make a sound. I don’t want Harlan to do anything more for me than he already has. Besides, I’m a grown-up now. At least that’s what he’s been trying to convince me on the way back to the home.
I steal a glance at him and then look away, feeling embarrassed all over again. He stuffed my panties into the back pocket of my jeans, and he has those draped over his arm, careful not to let any of the blood smear off onto his skin. Or maybe it’s already dry and he’s just skeeved by it.
“Anyway, do you think that could be fun?” he asks.
Oops.
“What?” I ask, glancing up at him. Harlan gives me a grin and shakes his head. “Never mind, little wolf. We can talk about it later.”
He goes back to talking while I zone him out and keep pace with his long strides, when suddenly, an unnerving thought occurs to me.
“They’re going to make fun of me,” I state softly.
“Who?” Harlan asks curiously.
“The girls at the home. If they find out that …” A long-suffering sigh escapes me as I look up at Harlan again. He still looks confused as he tilts his eyes up and to the left, walking in silence until I can tell that it finally dawns on him.
“ Oooh. Oh, please, little wolf. If they make fun of you, just do what I would do,” he remarks with a shrug.
“What’s that?”
“Bite them harder than they can bark at you.”
Mrs. Jessop gave me some girly stuff , just like Harlan said she would. Then she told me to take a hot shower and she’d make some soup for me. She warned me that whatever is happening to me might cause stomach pains, and that she could get me some pills for that, but the worst thing of all is that she told me it’s going to happen every month now for a very long time.
As the hot water cascades down my back, I watch the crimson streaks stream down my inner thighs toward the drain. This is so gross, I think miserably as I reach for the new bar of soap she gave to me before shooing me out of her office.
I start to pick the wrapper off and think about the very last thing that Jessop said to me before I was dismissed. Stay away from Harlan. I don’t like that he’s so much older than you and trying to get friendly.
I have no idea what she meant by that, and I don’t care either. Harlan is the only person that’s been nice to me since Enya left, and now that I’m a grown-up, I think I can figure out who I want to have as friends on my own.
I finally manage to rip the paper off the bar, letting it fall to the floor as I hold the bar in the palms of my hand and lift it toward the torrent of water. Droplets immediately begin to pelt me in the face, as well as the smell of lavender, and I smile slightly. She gave me a special bar of soap.
Maybe she thinks little things like this will make me listen to her, but I never did like Jessop. She can give me all of the pretty-scented soaps she wants. I’ll be friends with whoever I feel like.
I clear my throat as I rub my hands around the bar of soap to get a good lather, then start to rub it on my body. I do my best to ignore the streaks because they’ll just make me sad again to see them. I’ve always been a good girl, so I don’t get why this is happening to me. Enya said it only happened to sluts who opened their legs one too many times, but something tells me that she lied.
It still doesn’t make me miss her any less since I know that everyone lies. Be it little and white or big and green, there isn’t a single person who can honestly say that they’ve never lied. Even me.
Once I’ve got a good layer of soap on my skin, I bend down and drop the bar into the water so that it’ll get hopefully cleaned up too. I turn around and lean my head back, letting the heat wash over me.
I almost feel peaceful standing here, getting burned up.
Kind of like if I can stand it long enough, maybe the bleeding will stop. But when I lower my head and push my wet hair out of my face, I catch a glimpse of the crimson water swirling around my feet.
I guess not.
The more I think about it, the more it starts to put me in a somber mood again, so I give up on trying to change something that I know I can’t. Instead, my thoughts drift toward Harlan. He was really nice to me today, and he helped me when he could have let me be made fun of. Maybe he’s nice after all.
A small smile starts to spread across my lips as I turn back toward the water and use my hands to wash off the lather from the soap. I think I’ll go find him and let him know that I’m sorry for not knowing what was happening to me and say thank you for being nice.
I make quick work of washing away the rest of the lather, then twist the handles to turn off the water. If I don’t go find him now and let him know that I think I want to be his friend, I know I’ll lose the nerve.
I pull at the back of my pants, feeling completely uncomfortable about the pad I’m wearing. It feels bulky and weird, and I don’t think I fit it in right because it feels like it keeps bunching with each step.
Heading into the large rec room, I do my best to keep my head held high among the whispers of me walking in. I know they can probably see it, think it’s funny, and are planning something to say, but if I can find Har— There he is.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way to the small white circular table he’s sitting at by himself. He has a large notebook in front of him and is busily scribbling inside. I stop a few feet away, watching the opulent strokes of the pencil, which tells me that he’s not writing—he’s drawing.
Well, it’s now or never.
“Hey,” I greet him as I stop behind the chair opposite him and grip it nervously.
Harlan glances up at me and smiles as he flips the notebook shut. He doesn’t say anything, though. He just sits there, smiling at me, watching me, making me feel a thousand times more nervous than I already do.
“You wanted something?” he asks, that familiar glint that makes me angry starting to sparkle in his eyes.
I become frustrated almost immediately. My fingers go from gently gripping the top of the chair to trying to dig my nails through the wood. Harlan leans back in his seat, crossing his arms loosely over his chest, and laughs.
“You’re welcome, little wolf,” he says with a shake of his head.
Can he read my mind? It’s a thought that scares me because if he can, then he’ll know the things I’ve been hiding from everyone. Things that I don’t think anyone would be able to understand.
“I hate you!” I scream at the top of my lungs, shoving the chair violently against the table.
He looks a little shocked, and his mouth drops slightly open. He starts to get up to say something to me, but instead of waiting to hear yet another lie, I decide it’s best to leave.
Turning on my heel, I tilt my chin up and do my best to walk out of the room with as much dignity as I can conjure up. I don’t want anyone to see that he’s got me so angry that I’m crying— again. I don’t want him to know that he just hurt me by looking like he was ready to be mean to me.
I’m better off alone, anyway, I tell myself as I angrily swat tears away from my cheeks.
Once I’m in the hallway, I break into a run all the way back to my room.
I hate it here.