Chapter Twenty-Six
You can’t go to the bonfire.”
I swallow.
I haven’t seen Jonathan for five days. And now he’s standing next to his truck, parked beside my car in the school parking lot, looking at me like he’s a bonfire.
“Excuse me?” I rasp out.
“Tonight. You can’t go. Not with them.”
“Are you serious?” I find my voice somewhere in the depths of my feet.
“I don’t want you around Oren, Livvy and all of them. Okay?”
“You’re telling me—” Then I shake my head to clear the spinning. “This is what you want to talk about? After not hearing from you all week, you show up just to tell me what I can’t do?”
“Can we not do this here?”
I spin around to find Collin behind me. He hasn’t spoken to me either.
I’ve spent the entire week struggling to focus. Sleep. Eat. Hold any sort of coherent conversation. The only thing holding me together are my girls. Them and dance. I’ve avoided everyone else, including my parents. Or everyone else has been avoiding me.
“Meet us at the garage,” Collin says before climbing into the passenger side of the truck.
I’m vibrating in the driver’s seat, trailing behind Jonathan. There’s definitely anger rushing through my veins. I recognize the angst of frustration rattling in my throat. And the all-too-familiar swirl of fear in my gut. I take a breath. When I go to blow it out, I scream.
So loud that when I come to a stop at the red light, the passenger in the car beside me looks concerned. I smile maniacally, all teeth.
By the time we pull in front of the garage, I’m bouncing in my seat, one big swirl of emotions. I’m surprised I’m not hiccupping. I hold my breath, just in case.
Collin is standing in front of my car, staring at me. I realize I still have a death grip on the steering wheel and haven’t shut off my engine. He shakes his head and comes to fetch me.
“C’mon, weirdo,” he says. “I promise it won’t be that bad.”
I relinquish the strangle hold on the steering wheel and turn off the car. “You promise?”
“Only for us,” he assures me. “I can’t say the same for Mr. Intensity over there.” He nods his head toward the truck. Jonathan is still in the cab, blasting music. “I told him I wanted to talk to you first.”
Collin and I have honestly never fought. We’ve never used the we need to talk line on each other.
Jonathan and I haven’t either, other than the anxiety-induced are we together conversation in October. There’s an energy between us that we always skated around, built upon unspoken feelings, thought and, apparently, a closet filled with a cemetery’s worth of skeletons.
With a bowed head, I follow after Collin as he unlocks the door and turns on the light. It’s freezing in the garage, so I zip my jacket up to my chin. Collin turns on the space heater before facing me. I haven’t stepped in farther than the door.
“Seriously, Sadie. I’m not going to break up with you or anything. Come sit.” He pats the counter.
I’m only a little relieved. I creep over and hoist myself onto the workbench.
“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing I need to be the first to speak. “I was terrible and shouldn’t have said what I did about your dad.”
“You were upset, but, no, you shouldn’t have.”
We look at each other, sorrow filling our eyes. He gives me a corner of a smile. “I still love you.”
“I love you too,” I tell him. And wait because that’s definitely a lead into something more. Some sort of but.
“But”—and there it is—“I don’t want to be on your island of misfit toys anymore.”
I narrow my eyes, not following.
“I’m not one of your causes, like the whales you took a two-week vow of silence for in fourth grade.
Which was very confusing, by the way. Or the rainforest you collected pennies for in sixth grade.
I know I don’t have the perfect home or world-leader parents.
I don’t want to ever worry that our friendship is built on pity. ”
My mouth’s been hanging open from the moment I understood what he was saying. “I don’t think that. I never have. You think I pity you? Of all people?!”
“Maybe you don’t. Maybe I got it wrong, but look at your friends, Sadie. A collection of the disenfranchised. You have one of every color—self-harm, abandoned, queer, neglected and angry at the world.”
“Which one am I?” I ask in challenge, so very insulted he sees me this way.
“You?” He shakes his head, like I’m not getting it. But I am. “You’re the philanthropic bleeding heart that feels guilty for living in the castle.”
“I thought you promised this wasn’t going to feel bad?”
“Hurts?”
I nod.
“Now you know how it feels to be looked at like a charity case.”
I stare at him, blinking the sting of his words from my eyes. “I’ve never been on the backhand of one of your verbal blows before, Collin. If this is you trying to punch as low as I did, you’ve succeeded. I feel like absolute shit. And if you think for one second that is true, why are we friends?”
He raises his brows.
“I love each and every one of you because you’re not afraid to be yourselves. Because you don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about you.”
His brows lift higher at my choice of words. I almost never swear.
“You’re brave. And funny. You each give me the courage to show up in all the bizarreness that is me.
Because I’m like all of you. Except you’re actually popular.
And screw you for not seeing it, Collin Humphreys!
I don’t care where I live or what’s in my closet.
I’m just as lost in this stupid world as you all are.
But it’s you who’s saving me, not the other way around. ”
I’m all worked up. My face is flushed. I unzip my jacket to let some of the cool air get to me.
Collin presses his lips together.
“Are you smiling?” I accuse, glaring at him.
He shakes his head, but it’s obvious he’s fighting it.
“You basically accuse me of being superficial and like a… shallow, privileged white girl, and then you smile after I defend myself for, like, the first time ever!”
Collin lets the smile grow. “I’m proud of you.”
“Collin!” I holler, hopping off the counter and slugging him in the shoulder.
“Hey!” He rubs the spot and laughs. “Where’s the love?”
Before I can stomp away, Collin wraps his arms around me and sweeps me off the floor, blowing a raspberry on my neck. I squirm against his grip and let out a peal of laughter—against my will. “Stop it.”
He sets me on my feet, but doesn’t let me go. I wrap my arms around his chest and hug him back. And I begin to cry.
Collin squeezes me and presses a kiss to the side of my head. “We’re going to be okay. I’m not mad anymore.”
I nod, my face pressed into the Stanford logo on his hoodie. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I don’t think you’re Princess Peach. You’re right. You’re kind of a freak.”
I try to shove him, but he laughs and keeps me trapped in his arms. “Stop. You’re getting so violent. It’s doing something for me.”
I groan into his chest.
“Do you know what the bonfire thing is all about?” I ask, tilting my head up at him.
Collin shakes his head. “Let’s ask him.”
With Collin’s arm slung over my shoulders, I wipe at my stupid tears and let him lead me outside, where Jonathan is leaning against his hood with his arms crossed.
“Let the girl know why you’re being all caveman about the bonfire tonight.”
Jonathan shoots Collin a scathing look. Collin rolls his eyes in response.
“I know you’re talking to Danika again. But that group isn’t good for anyone. Don’t go with them.” When Collin gives him a wide-eyed urging, Jonathan mumbles, “Please.”
“I wasn’t planning to hang out with them,” I reply, unable to meet Jonathan’s eyes. “I’m meeting Danika. She’s breaking up with Oren, and then I’m taking her home with me. The girls are sleeping over.”
“She’s breaking up with Oren at the bonfire?” Collin asks, thrown by this news. “Why there?”
I don’t know how to respond without it sounding dramatic. Or giving Jonathan another reason why I shouldn’t go.
“She wants witnesses,” Jonathan concludes. “So he doesn’t do anything.”
“When did that ever stop him?” Collin rebuts. He focuses on me with an unexpected conclusion. “You’re going to put yourself in the middle of them again, aren’t you?”
“Not happening,” Jonathan says with conviction before I utter a single word.
“Because I’m going with you,” Collin says like it’s all settled. They just had an entire conversation without me. I’d be annoyed, except now Collin will be there too.
Jonathan is quiet. I glance up to weigh his reaction, in hopes he’ll come as well. He’s studying the rocks in the driveway. Now he won’t meet my eyes.
“I’ll be inside,” Collin tells me. “Pick me up at my house at seven.”
I wrap my arms around myself, chilled through again.
“I’m worried about you.”
He finds his way to me. At least with his attention. He’s still standing on the other side of a chasm.
“I’m okay. Been staying with Collin.”
I’m confused at first, until it occurs to me that his dad probably doesn’t want him home right now.
“I can’t go back there,” Jonathan explains. “You don’t understand what he’s like.”
I swallow the words that I want to ask him. Instead, I hope my silence will encourage him to keep talking.
“He won you over, didn’t he? Made you think that he’s this great guy. Invested in the community. Loving husband. Devoted father. Only wants what’s best for us.” Jonathan releases a cynical laugh. “Wore the best mask of his life outside of Clara’s. Because I didn’t do that to him.”
I open my mouth. My inhale to speak stops him. But then I press my lips together instead.
“What did you see?” Jonathan takes a step toward me. “Tell me, Sadie. What did you see?”
My voice is weak. “I saw you punch him. And… he looked afraid of you.”
He closes his eyes and releases a breathy laugh. “That’s why he looked like that. Because it sure as hell didn’t match the words coming out of his mouth.”
“What’d he say?” I ask quietly, afraid to know.
“I won’t repeat it. It was vile, and… I don’t regret hitting him. It’s the first time I ever have.”
“Really?”
This brings shadows to his face. “You don’t believe me?”
“I just…” Silence was working so much better. “Ryan said this happens a lot. I thought… I thought he meant—”
“That I beat my father all the time?”
I don’t respond. Which probably isn’t the time to stay quiet because Jonathan is shaking his head in disbelief.
My body is vibrating with nerves because I don’t like the shift in the air.
The accusation in his tone. “You meet him twice, and you think you know him? You think you know what happens in that house.”
“Tell me!” I shock us both with the shout. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To know the truth!”
Jonathan yanks off his sweatshirt, along with the T-shirt beneath.
I cup my mouth with a gasp. His body is covered in bruises.
His side. His ribs. His shoulder. The sizes of softballs in various shades of purple, green and yellow.
I can’t tell what is new or what was there before their fight. But it doesn’t matter.
Jonathan holds his arms wide. “This is what happens all the time.”
I blink, and tears drip onto my fingers, my hand still covering my mouth. I try to breathe, but the air passes in shudders and spasms through my chest. “I’m sorry.”
Jonathan yanks at his hair, still worked up. “I thought you’d figured it out—at least a little.”
How did I not know it was this bad? Had I never suspected before this year? Not even once? Or did I choose not to see what’s been right in front of me this entire time? Maybe I’m as blind as Collin accused me of being. Too protected to recognize my friends suffering while staring right at them.
I shake my head. “Let me help. We can tell someone.”
He laughs maniacally. “Help?” He raises his voice. “Help, Sadie?! I tried that. There isn’t anyone who can help me. I needed you to be my friend. To be my girlfriend. To actually love me.”
“I am. I do,” my voice pleads, almost hysterically. Panic rushes through me. I’m scared of where this is going—how it ends. I can feel us breaking, even as I try to hold us together.
“Really?” He’s pacing, clenching and unclenching his hands.
He swipes his shirt off the ground and covers himself again.
“My father tried to convince me my entire life that I couldn’t be loved.
That my mother was afraid to love me. That my brother didn’t know better.
” He points at me, accusing. “And then there was you. Who loved me unconditionally. Despite everything I’d done.
Or so I thought.” Spit sprays from his mouth.
“Except the one time your belief in me was challenged, you gave up. The moment I needed you most.”
He glares at me, like I’m the worst of them. My stomach hollows, and I feel like I’m falling.
“That’s not fair,” I say, finding strength in my words. Pleading for him to understand. That all I wanted was to be let in. “I didn’t know. How was I to know any of this when you didn’t trust me enough to tell me?!”
“Trust? Trust? Are you kidding? I’ve only ever trusted you.
And Collin.” He points over my shoulder, where Collin stands by the garage door.
“And the moment you got a glimpse of what you’re blaming me for not telling you…
you…” He’s so furious, he can’t speak. Instead, he rounds his truck and opens the driver’s door.
“Where are you going?” I shout. “Don’t walk away! Please, Jonathan, don’t walk away from me!”
“No. That’s you, Sadie.” His eyes are locked with mine. “I always stay. I’m the one who can’t walk away. You. You always do.”
His words slash through my heart. The cut deep and fatal.
“You only ever see what you choose to see. Every time I try to show you why I am this”—he holds up his healing knuckles.
I meet his challenging stare with determination not to flinch—“you look the other way. And the one time I needed you to see me, you saw a monster.”