4. CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
ARI
F lipping the grilled cheese sandwiches, I hear the door open and quickly turn, relieved to see it’s not Axel.
“Hey.” Lena kicks off her shoes and flops down onto the couch. “Tables were nonstop today, but the tips were great.”
Lena’s a waitress at a pub in the city. She must be good at it because Papa says she makes “good money.” I’m sure it also helps that she’s very pretty, with sandy blonde hair that falls over her shoulders and a face that doesn’t need makeup.
“Whatcha makin? Smells good.”
“Just grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup,” I say a little too cheerily, trying to hide my nerves. “I saw we had a few cans in the cupboard, and I thought it would be good on this cold day.”
“Mmmm, that sounds great. I just have to change.”
Hearing her footsteps recede down the hallway, I blow a gust of air through tight lips.
I got into a fight at school today. It wasn’t even my fault. Ever since I started at the middle school, Elena and her stupid friends began targeting me and they never let up. And I just know if Papa finds out, there will be hell to pay. I’ve managed to stay out of his hair these past few months since the carnival, but this will surely push his buttons.
Quickly scooping the sandwiches off the frying pan before they burn and putting one on a plate in the microwave to keep warm until Papa comes home, I ladle two bowls of soup for Lena and me. I’m just putting them on the table when her phone rings, and she comes jogging down the hallway, ruffling through her purse until she finds it and quickly answers. “Hello? Yes, this is Arlene’s stepmother.”
I drop the spoons in my hand and freeze in front of the table at the sound of my name. Lena spins and locks eyes with me. She’s quiet for a moment, and then says, “Ummhmm …” Then, “I see …” There’s another moment of quiet before she breathes out a sigh. “Was the girl hurt?” Quiet. “OK, I understand … Yes, I’ll tell her to see you first thing in the morning … Thank you.”
Lena ends the call and we stare at each other, but before anything can be said, the door swings open and Papa comes walking in.
“Jesus it’s getting cold,” he says, closing the door behind him. “I hope you’ve got dinner ready. And something warm.”
I swallow as Lena and I continue our stare-off. “I made soup,” I say quietly. “And sandwiches.”
Lena keeps her eyes on me while another silent moment passes, then says—eyes still locked on me, “Yeah, we waited until you got home to eat.” She tosses the phone back into her bag and walks over to the small, square table where our dinners are plated. She picks up her sandwich and takes a bite, saying, around a mouthful, “Well, am I going to eat alone?”
I snap out of it and turn quickly to grab Papa’s sandwich from the microwave and bring it to the table, then scoop him a bowl of soup. The three of us eat in silence for a while before Lena starts up conversation. “So, Axel, get this: apparently Duke and Jules are off again .”
Papa lets out a laugh. “Well, there’s a fucking surprise.” He says it in a way that makes me think he’s not actually surprised. And then they take off into a conversation about Lena’s coworkers and I realize she’s not going to tell Papa about the fight.
The rest of the night is surprisingly tolerable as Papa has some beers while he watches Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune , and Lena paints her toenails while I lay in bed and read. Finally, they both go into their bedroom and shut the door. As I drift off to sleep, I think, just maybe, things aren’t going to be so bad.
***
The vibrations of stomping wake me, and I roll over to see Papa swipe a coffee cup off the table, which goes hurling into the cabinet and crashing to the ground, sending brown liquid everywhere.
“Son of a BITCH!” he shouts, slamming a cabinet door so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t come off the hinges. “They think they’re going to stop sending my disability checks, huh? Well, they’ve got another thing coming. I’m gonna go kill those motherfuckers at the government offices.”
He grabs a piece of mail off the table and heads into the kitchen while digging in his pocket and pulling out a lighter. He dangles the piece of paper over the sink as he lights a corner of it, then watches as the flames lick upward until he drops the little ball of fire, and I hear a hiss as it extinguishes. “Think you’re just going to send me a notice and that’s it? Assholes.”
Papa stomps over toward the door and shoves his feet into his boots, then perches on the arm of the couch as he laces them. He finishes the first one, then the second, and freezes.
He sits like that for a moment before barking, “Girl!”
I slink back into my blanket, but then decide hiding will only make it worse. “Y— Yes?” I reply.
“Where’s your backpack?” He points toward the hook next to the door, where I usually hang it. I swallow hard and try to come up with an answer as Papa swivels his head and locks eyes with me. “Well?”
“Um …” I sit up in bed, still clutching the blanket, as if it will protect me. “The girls at school started picking on me. And one of them pulled it off of me, and I pulled it back, but it ripped. Then she dumped it out and I tried to put all my stuff back in, but she grabbed it again and I fell. I got really mad and I hit her, but then the gym teacher broke us up. I was scared I was going to get in trouble, so I ran away.”
Finally meeting his eyes, I see him squinting at me. “Let me get this straight,” he says. “Some kids were picking on you at school, and you hit one of them?” I nod. “I can’t hear you.” Papa cups his ear to get his point across.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And, after you hit her, you just … ran away?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You didn’t stick around to make sure you won the fight?”
I swallow and meekly reply, “No.”
Papa wets his lips then—faster than I can react to—jumps up from the couch and stalks toward my bed, grabs my hair and pulls me to the floor. I shriek as he drags me toward the living room.
“What the hell?” I hear Lena as she comes down the hallway.
“What have I told you about bullies?” Papa grits through his teeth, stopping in front of the coffee table and dropping my head. “I said …” he yells, “What have I told you about fighting with bullies?”
Papa crouches down so he’s in my face, and I know I need to answer him. “You told me to finish it. If they start picking on me, you told me to finish the fight.”
“That’s right.” With eyes still locked on me, he starts unbuckling his belt. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt Papa’s belt, but I remember the bite of it across my skin and start to panic.
“Axel, what are you doing?” Lena asks from behind me.
Slowly pulling the belt out, I hear it slide out of each pant loop as he sets it free and dangles it in front of him. “I’m teaching our girl a lesson.” He pulls the thick, black leather through his fist. “How is she ever going to learn to stand up to bullies if she keeps letting them run her off?”
Rolling onto my back and pushing up on my hands and feet, I start to crab-walk backward but bump into the couch.
“Don’t!” Lena yells.
But Papa doesn’t pay her any attention, instead swinging his arm back and lashing out. The first slap of the belt across my skin always hurts the most, sending a burning trail up my skin that grows hotter as the seconds tick past. The next few strikes fuel the fire.
“Axel, stop it!” Lena throws herself at Papa, who turns on her. Lena’s never gotten the belt before, so she’s not prepared for the sting as it makes contact and how the feeling only intensifies after the exposure. It only takes one strike, and she is curled up and sobbing on the floor.
Huh, that’s funny … I thought Papa hated weaklings.
Bringing his attention back to me, I lose count of how many strikes Axel lands, because at some point I crawl into the darkness I have become accustomed to and wait for the storm to pass.
***
Looking through one blurry eye—the one that’s not swollen shut—I teeter on top of a cinderblock as I push the window to Ethan’s bedroom open just enough for me to climb through. The muscles in my limbs quiver as I fall onto the floor with a wince.
I feel bad being here without Ethan, like I’m invading his space. But he did tell me I could come to his window whenever I needed a place to go.
And right now, I need a place to go.
His room is small and dark due to the wood paneling circling it. He has a blue and green checkered bedspread that looks fluffy and warm. It’s all twisted and piled up, as if he just kicked it off his legs this morning and didn’t bother fixing it. Along the wall adjacent to his bed, there’s a tall dresser with one drawer half open and a T-shirt dangling from it. On top, there’s a little trophy in the shape of a guy holding a baseball bat. On that same wall is a poster of a baseball player with the name Joe DiMaggio on it.
Suddenly I am bone tired. My body hurts, my heart hurts, my brain hurts. Is it possible for even my soul to hurt? Sitting down on the side of the bed, I wonder if it would be wrong to lay down.
Exhaustion takes over and I lay back, again wincing, and fluff the tangled mess around me. It smells stinky—like sweaty gym socks—but I don’t care. My head sinks into the pillow and envelopes me, and I close my eyes and embrace the safety I feel here.
ETHAN
Bounding into the house, I immediately burst into song. “... ass in the sand, ain’t a worry in the world …”
School let out early today because there was some sort of water main break, and I got a ride home with my buddy Sean’s dad. He hinted at wanting to hang out here with me, but I took a raincheck since, for once, I will have the house to myself and can sing out loud and run around in my underwear.
OK, I probably won’t do that because it’s cold as all get-out, but I’m definitely changing into my basketball shorts.
Also, I’m pretty sure Sean has the hots for Ari, which is weird because we’re, like, tweens, or whatever. But ever since they met one day when he came over after school, he asks about her.
Still singing, I kick off my shoes and head down the hallway. I do a two-step this way, then a two-step that way, and shimmy toward the bedroom door. Just as I get to the chorus again, throw the door open, and jump inside, ass first—to go with the lyrics—I roll my hips around in a circle until I face my bed.
“… Ain’t a worry in the world— Gah! What the?” I find myself with my back pressed against the wall, hand on my chest, as I stare at the back of a head of red, matted hair that looks like it’s been slept on. Ari is standing at my half-open window, looking like she’s ready to sling a leg over it. Her coat is in a ball in her arms as cold air filters inside.
“Ari?” It’s a question, even though I know it’s her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles quietly, but her voice is muffled.
Remembering what I told her that first day we met, I rush out, “Are you OK? Why weren’t you at school today? How long have you been here? What … Actually, that’s it. I’m out of questions.”
She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t answer me. She doesn’t even giggle at the fact that I came in here dancing like an idiot when I thought no one was looking.
Taking a step closer, I place a hand on her shoulder, and she stiffens. I let that hand slide down her back, hearing her hiss through her teeth. Not waiting for her to move, to say anything or push me away, I pull the back of her shirt up—then quickly drop it and take a step back when I see what’s underneath.
My heart drops into my stomach. My mouth opens but no words come out. And since Ari doesn’t immediately give me the “it’s not that bad” line she normally does, I know it must, in fact, be that bad. Stepping back toward her, I lift the shirt again and take in the red, raised skin laced across her back, with lines going this way and that. There’s bruising around her shoulder blade, and it looks like the skin is split right open on her lower back.
The bastard used a belt this time.
I swallow and pull the first full breath of air into my lungs since seeing the carnage. “Ari—” I start, but then she turns and looks at me.
People talk about what it’s like to witness a train wreck. They say something like, “I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t turn away.” This must be how it feels. Ari’s left eye is swollen shut. It’s an angry shade of blue-black and inflated to the size of a lime. Her lip is puffed up as well, with dried blood in the corner of her mouth and spread down her chin a little.
My chest heaves with a forced breath. “Red.” It’s all I can muster, and it sounds like a cry as it breaks from my quivering lips. “What …” but I don’t finish that question. I know exactly what happened. “We have to call the police. He can’t do this to you and get away with it, Ari. Next time he’ll kill you. Crap, it looks like he almost did.”
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed,” she says quietly.
“It’s OK. I told you to come here if you ever need me.” Taking a few steps closer, I assess her face again. “Come on, let’s go to the bathroom. We can wash the blood off.”
Taking her hand in mine, I lead her across the hallway, gesture to the bathtub, and she sits on the ledge. I take a washcloth out of the cabinet and soak it before turning back to face Ari, ever so softly dabbing the material at the corner of her mouth. “I meant what I said, Ari. You have to go to the police. Axel is a very bad man and next time … Ari, if he’s capable of this, imagine what else he’s capable of.”
She shakes her head and mumbles, “I just have to finish high school, then I can leave.”
“You’re barely twelve!” This time I raise my voice. “That’s, like, another six years. Imagine what he’ll do to you in six years!”
“I’ll just learn to not make him so angry,” she says in a rush. “Please. Please , Ethan, I can’t go to an orphanage or a foster home. That’s what’ll happen. And no one ever wants to take in an older child. I just have to stick it out.”
“OK. OK,” I concede. “Would you like me to wash the welts on your back? A little cool water might make them feel better.”
Ari nods.
“Here.” I take a folded towel off the rack next to the cabinet and hand it to her before turning around. “Just let me know when you’re covered.” Giving her my back and crossing my arms over my chest, I squeeze my eyes shut and will the tears not to come. Axel is an animal. How could he do that to anyone, let alone someone who is supposed to be his kid? And how could Lena let that happen?
“I’m good,” Ari’s voice breaks my thoughts.
I walk over and turn on the water before sitting next to her, straddling the tub. Ari clutches the towel to her front as I wet the cloth and squeeze it over her exposed back, watching the water dribble down her skin. It streams over her shoulder blades, over the welts that are now even puffier than they were when I first saw them, and down the bruised valleys of her back. We sit in silence as I continue the gentle pats on her skin with the cloth, a tender wiping here and there.
“So, um, did you like my rendition of Zac Brown?” The side of Ari’s mouth quirks up just the tiniest at my question, so I sing out loud, “Life is good today.”
We stare at each other as the words hang in the air. “Well, crap. I guess those are probably a poor taste in lyrics considering our current predicament. But to be fair, I had no idea I was gonna find you hiding in my room!”
Her smile widens, and then I see it—a broken tooth. That freaking monster.
“Ari.” I reach for her, but she pulls away. “Red, please, look at me.” Finally, she turns, one glassy eye ping-ponging between mine, the other swollen shut. “I used to be self-conscious about this,” I point to my lip scar, “but, well, now thanks to you, I get to be the pretty one for once.”
Her eye widens, but then she lets out a giggle and relief washes over me as I help her stand up.
After redressing, Ari and I walk back to my room to get her jacket. “I should be home when Papa returns,” she says. And just like that, our light mood is gone.
“Ari, how am I supposed to just let you go back there? He’s an animal—”
“It’ll be OK. I’ll stay out of his way. I’ll make sure he has plenty of beer, then he’ll pass out early.”
I nod, not at all happy, but then think of something. “Hang on a sec,” I cross over to my backpack and pull out the cell phone Dad got me for my birthday, handing it to her.
“What’s this?” She turns it around in her hands.
“I know it’s not the coolest, since my dad was being cheap. But it can text. It’s a prepaid plan, so you have to keep buying minutes for it, but if you just use it for emergencies the minutes should last.”
“I know what it is. Why did you hand it to me?”
“Because I’m giving it to you.”
Ari shakes her head and pushes the phone back at me, but I keep my arms crossed. “Ethan, you can’t give me this. Your dad will wonder what happened to it. Besides, if Papa sees it, he’ll just take it away.”
I shake my head. “I put it on silent. Keep it that way. And no one but me knows the number. You don’t even have to accept calls on it. Just keep it in case you ever need to call for help.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time, but finally mumbles, “No one’s ever given me anything before.”
“All I really want to give you is a way out, Ari. This is the closest I can get. I’m going to buy another phone. I’ve saved up enough. I’ll get one similar to this so my dad can’t tell the difference. I’ll text you the number as soon as I get it.”
“Ethan, if you get in trouble for this …”
The next words just pour out of my mouth. “You’re my best friend, Ari. If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do. Like, honestly, I can’t be held accountable for what I might do the next time I see Axel.”
Ari stills. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I mean, Fonz is also your best friend. But I know what you mean.” In a softer voice, she adds, “You’re my only friend. Well, you and Fonz, of course.”
I get a broken-tooth smile from her before she heads to the door, but then turns to me and grins. “In the event I don’t make it back, I want you to know you’ve been a real friend, R2. My best one, in fact.”
I grin back. “ Star Wars. Don’t ask me which one.”
“It’s Episode IV .”
Ari opts to use the front door to leave my house instead of the window.