See Me, See Me Not Page 2

One more punch.

  Another one.

  But the images don’t disappear.

  My uncle marches into the room already in his sheriff uniform, one eyebrow raised, but doesn’t comment on my early workout.

  It used to be his office, but one day I came back from school and he simply told me to get my shit together.

  He grunted when I thanked him.

  “Did you finish your pre-calculus homework?” He sounds pissed but he always sounds pissed. And I do give him reasons to be mad. Last week, one of his officers pulled me over and almost gave me a speeding ticket. Two weeks ago, a girl I made out with plastered pictures of me across the town with the word Asshole. And three weeks ago, the principal called him in to tell him I needed to work on my attitude.

  He stops the punching bag. “I asked you a question.”

  “I did,” I huff out. It took me forever to get through those sheets our teacher gave us, but I did. Thanks to Tessa’s help.

  “Don’t be late for school,” he reminds me and then leaves without waiting for a reply.

  Typical.

  “I’m never late for school,” I mutter to myself before hurrying to get ready. I boxed longer than I thought. I resist the urge to rush after my uncle to ask him yet again if he heard anything from the Feds.

  If he had, he’d tell me.

  Instead, I manage to find some clean clothes and take a quick shower.

  My attitude may suck, but school’s important. My older sister Lacey wanted to become a teacher.

  Lacey.

  I shake my head under the water.

  My nightmares.

  I take a deep breath, but my thoughts cling to me like my shirt to my skin after working out. Pretend. I have to pretend everything is fine.

  Tessa’ll be at school. She always has a calming effect on me. She’s focused on her shit, getting things done. She reminds me of an easier past, and of my goals, at least the ones she knows about: get a part-time job, graduate and get a scholarship.

  Another reason I need to forget how much I wish I could feel her lips on mine. Jeopardizing our fragile friendship for a make-out session or more is not worth it. She’s not the one I’ll kiss as a remedy against my nightmares.

  And I can’t pull her into my shit. I’m not allowed to. My uncle would freak if I told her about my past.

  I change into my regular outfit: a pair of well-worn jeans and a dark shirt.

  My eyes catch my reflection in the mirror.

  If Mom were here, she’d tell me she sees a storm brewing on my face.

  She’d be right.

  I slam the bathroom door.

  Chapter Four - Tessa

  There’s nothing much happening at the school so early. A few clubs and teams are meeting but the majority of the students will get there in an hour. My feet resonate in the empty hallways. A poster for the next choir concert hangs on one of the walls. I don’t stop in front of it. My last performance with the choir was at one football game in the fall.

  I still remember standing in front of the crowd. The slight wind on my face as the music started. My total surrender to the moment.

  Luke helped me de-stress right before I stepped inside the field. Encouraging me. I’m not even sure he remembers.

  I enter one of the smaller choir rooms and the smell of wood and the memories tighten my throat. I force myself to drink a bit of water. The room isn’t very big—not like the auditorium where the choir meets, where some of the performances take place. The awards on the wall remind me I used to be part of something big in this school.

  Missing choir because of work is not an excusable absence, so I had to quit.

  My singing the National Anthem at the football game was my goodbye performance.

  I warm up for a few minutes. Starting with a single held “ah”, I change the vowel sound to “oh,” moving only my lips. Then I switch it up by changing the vowel to “eh” and “ee,” moving my tongue only. I do a few other exercises and then practice “Hard Times Come Again No More.”

  Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,

  While we all sup sorrow with the poor;

  There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;

  Oh! Hard times come again no more.

  I focus on the words, on the sound, but I can’t force the scholarship out of my mind. The university is close enough that I could come back home every day. Mom wouldn’t have to be alone. My college fund is steadily growing but it couldn’t pay for that program. It’s a new voice program that incorporates all types of music, including musicals, instead of the classical path that is often offered in voice programs. Music’s the only thing I’ve ever been really good at. If that doesn’t work, I have no clue what I’m going to study. I’m good in math and chemistry, but music has helped me through so much.

  When I sing, I don’t push the pain away.

  When I sing, I can be myself.

  When I sing, all those feelings I keep buried so deep inside they’ve developed roots are set free.

  The door opens and Mrs. Reymer enters. Her short dark hair frames her oval face. She doesn’t say a word, but leans against the wall, listening to me and nodding. Her nods are famous in the choir world. They’re rare and mean you really nailed it. My shoulders relax and I continue rehearsing. Once I’m done, she gestures for me to take a seat. “We need to talk.” Mrs. Reymer isn’t usually fidgety, but she shifts from one foot to another before plopping herself down in a chair next to me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Your grades have slipped and you haven’t come to sing in over two weeks.”

  “I got busy at work, picking up extra shifts in the morning, and I rehearse when I can: in the car, at home, during my breaks…” I can’t help the slight panicky tone in my voice, and I dig my fingers into my palms to calm down.

  “You’re not in the final three for the junior scholarship.” She drops the truth I saw coming a mile away, but still it punches me full force in the chest. It was a long shot, more of a pity shot than a real shot, but I believed it could happen.

  “I’m not?” I repeat and this time my voice doesn’t break. It doesn’t show anything. Force of habit. If I’m not singing, it’s much easier to hide my pain.

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to give you that chance. But your GPA is down and it’s not only my decision. The school is very selective in whom they put forward. It’s very competitive.” She pauses and her chin dips as if she doesn’t even believe what she’s about to say. “You can always apply to the music scholarship the university offers. It’s open to everybody. It’s not linked to the school and the school isn’t choosing who to put forward.”

  “The music scholarship asks for steady participation in choir for the past two years before graduation, and I’m no longer in the choir.”

  Her hand briefly touches my shoulder. Her head tilts the same way it always does when people feel sorry for you but aren’t quite sure how to help.

  I loathe that head tilt.

  “I’ll help you look for other opportunities. I’ll talk to Mr. Broons.” My guidance counselor is rooting for me too. They all are. And it feels like I’m letting everyone down. Not only myself.

  “Thank you,” I whisper and head out before she can think of more encouraging words. My chest feels hollow and I don’t look where I’m going.

  And I bump into the last person I want to see: Kenneth. His cologne is too strong, but that’s pretty much half the male population at this school. It’s like they forget to take showers and believe cologne will solve all their body odor issues. His blond hair is in this artistic disheveled look, as if he woke up like that even though I know it takes him about forty minutes to get it exactly that way. He replaces the shower with artistic hairdos.

  He flashes his famous dimple my way. A dimple I thought was only meant for me. “If you want a repeat of last year, all you have to do is tell me and I’m right there for you.” He leans in toward me, and I purse my lips in an
attempt to restrain myself from spitting in his face. “You and I could sneak out and meet at your place. Your mom’s at work, no?” His index finger tucks a strand of my hair back behind my ear.

  “Do not touch me.” I grit my teeth.

  He pulls his hand away with an innocent expression on his face, but instead of getting lost, he continues to follow me. I sigh loudly but he doesn’t get the hint. I don’t want to deal with him. With any of this.

  “Get lost.” I don’t even look at him. He doesn’t stop.

  “It’s a free country and my locker is that way too, Tessie.”

  “Don’t call me Tessie.” I hurry but he keeps up with me.

  And my shitty day becomes even shittier.

  Chapter Five - Luke

  The parking lot at school is almost full, but the spot I usually take stands empty. One of the unknown perks of Gavert High: some spots are reserved. Never thought I’d pretend so well that mine would be one of those.

  I grab my books for the day and slide out of my car. I nod at Cora, who’s been asking me to go to a party with her tonight. Her tight top doesn’t leave much to the imagination and I’m not complaining because the view is hot. She smiles at me but instead of the sexy smile she’s probably attempting, her shoulders are slumped and her eyes dart behind me. Her ex must be on the parking lot. “Hey, Cora,” I call her and she blushes. Her eyes focus on the tattoos on my arm. She doesn’t know what they hide. And we’re never going to get close enough for her to know. “I’ll be there tonight,” I whisper in her ear, and this time her smile’s more self-assured. “I have to go,” I add before she says anything else. We’ll have fun tonight but that’s it. I won’t hurt her but I won’t be her hero either.

  I never could be a hero.

  The hallways are full of posters about the spring dance and whatever else the school has going on. I stop in front of an announcement about the choir. Tessa used to be in the choir. She was amazing at that football game last semester.

  “Don’t forget to come see me after your last period,” Mr. Broons tells me as he walks toward the administrative offices, not waiting for my answer. Despite my sucky reputation, I’ve never missed class and never missed a meeting with him. He’s my guidance counselor and helping me to make sure I can graduate on time.

  Tessa’s locker is only a few feet away from mine. She went to rehearse this morning and she might have heard about the junior scholarship. It’s funny how we can chat and eat lunch together and be friends without really talking about what we’re both hiding. We’ve tiptoed around it. She asked me where I’d been since that one summer and I told her I didn’t want to talk about it. I asked her what happened the day Lacey disappeared and she replied she didn’t want to talk about it. There’s this invisible barrier between us. A barrier I want to punch through, but I’m too fucking scared to even touch.

  My eyes search for her.

  I shouldn’t be so aware of her, of her way-too-rare laughs, of the way she tilts her head in class when she’s fighting against the urge to fall asleep.

  And she’s standing right there. Her back is turned to me but her red hair falls on her shoulders. She fidgets from one foot to another. Kenneth stands next to her and leans toward her. She pushes him back but he simply laughs. A laugh full of anger. And my hands clench into fists.

  I’ve heard the rumors. That’s another thing she doesn’t talk about. I’ve seen the pictures on that stupid website. And any sense of calmness I usually feel when I’m close to her shatters in pieces.

  I’ve butted heads with him more than once since last year. He usually stays clear of me. But not today.

  The adrenaline from my morning training still runs through my veins.

  “Why don’t you get lost, pretty boy?” I extend my arm above Tessa’s head on her locker.

  She ducks under my arm. “I don’t need any help. Kenneth was going, right, Kenneth?”

  Kenneth stares at me, crossing his arms on his chest. Not sure if that’s supposed to make him look stronger. It doesn’t. He smirks. “Is that who you’re going for these days, Tessie? Bad boys with tattoos?” He tilts his chin up as if that look is supposed to make me shit in my pants, but he keeps on glancing back. Probably hoping for reinforcement. These types of guys are predictable. He reminds me of Darren—a guy at the teen home who barked all the time but never bit.

  Tessa turns to me. She gently puts her hand on my chest and I stare at her fingers. Her touch soothes and burns me. “I got this,” she whispers in a calming tone, but her eyes are wide and her lips tremble.

  If he’s the one who put this desperate look on her face, he’s going to regret it. Kenneth circles around her to me, and it takes all the restraint I have to not hurt the guy. But he must not see how hard I’m trying to behave because he leans closer to me. “Was your sister a sister wife?” His words punch me in the stomach harder than any fists. What does he know?

  Tessa frowns but I’m not sure she heard him.

  Kenneth laughs. A laugh without joy but full of self-congratulatory bullshit—as if the look on my face is rewarding enough.

  And the anger I was holding back breaks through my barriers. “Why don’t you give it a shot?” I push him as hard as I can and he almost falls on his ass. A small crowd gathers around us and Tessa steps toward me instead of to the side.

  “Don’t do that. He’s not worth it.” She’s only looking at me and there’s no fear in her eyes, no disgust and no excitement. Just sadness and exhaustion. “Trust me, he’s not worth it,” she repeats and crosses her arms over her chest. Her friend Diego marches toward us while some of Kenneth’s buddies gather around him.

  Diego stands by my side without a word. He’s smaller than me but he’s strong and people don’t mess with him.

  The first bell rings but nobody moves. They all hold their breath. Tessa throws her hands up in the air. “Kenneth, get lost.” She turns back to him. “You wouldn’t want me to spread rumors too…” She bends down and whispers in his ear. His mouth gapes open and he steps back.

  “Whatever, no one would believe you.”

  “Hmmm…you never know.”

  The second bell rings and Mrs. Reymer marches toward our group. She points to me and to Kenneth. “You and you, go to the principal’s office.”

  “It was…” Tessa attempts to explain, but Mrs. Reymer shakes her head.

  “Go to class, Tessa.” She claps her hands. “Everyone: go to class.” And her tone isn’t one to ignore.

  Tessa protests but I step back to her. “I’ll see you later. Don’t worry.”

  She shakes her head. “But that’s not fair.”

  Mrs. Reymer turns to Tessa. “I didn’t see you push anybody to the ground. You’re going to class.”

  Tessa ducks past me again. “Kenneth was bothering me and wouldn’t listen to me when I asked him to stop.”

  She stares at Kenneth and she looks pissed but not surprised. “Thanks, Tessa. I’ll make sure the principal knows the circumstances, but fighting isn’t allowed.” She sighs. “Go to class,” she adds and her voice is gentler.

  Tessa hesitates.

  “Go, it’s okay,” I tell her. “You can’t be in detention or you’ll miss work.”

  She purses her lips, but she knows I’m right. She needs the money more than I do and if she gets a week of detention, she might have to miss some shifts next week. Her shoulders slump and she turns around, heading toward English class.

  Kenneth and I glare at each other and follow Mrs. Reymer to the administrative offices. I keep my head high while Kenneth makes a desperate attempt to weasel his way out of it. “Please. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I was talking to Tessa and he must be jealous or something.” I don’t even bother commenting. The way to the principal’s office shouldn’t be so familiar, but I’ve been here enough times.

  I remember the first day back at school: I squared my shoulders, put on my best I-don’t-give-a-fuck face and marched in like I owned the place. No one knew that
inside I was shaking, doubting everything, especially myself.

  School used to mean three hours a day after working in the fields. Lacey taught me with forbidden books at night. She could have been beaten to a pulp. She may have been beaten to a pulp. We waited for her that night for hours before slipping away in the darkness.

  “If I don’t make it, you still have to go. You have to leave. Promise me.” The circles under her eyes were deep. Her hands shook but her voice was firm. “If you don’t leave, you know what’s going to happen.”

  I rub the back of my neck but the tension grows. Kenneth needs to stop talking or I might not be able to keep quiet much longer.

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You both are coming to the principal’s office. She’s going to want to talk to your parents. And you, Luke, she’s going to call your uncle. This is a school, not a boxing ring. And we respect one another.”

  Kenneth finally shuts up but his face turns paler. “Fuck,” he mutters while I shrug. Uncle John won’t be happy, but this isn’t what worries me.

  What worries me is Kenneth’s comment about Lacey. What does he know?

  What worries me is him spreading rumors about Lacey and maybe unknowingly impeding the investigation.

  What worries me is the haunted look on Tessa’s face when she held me back. She usually hides the way she feels. She smiles one of her don’t-try-to-get-close smiles, but today she looked like she was desperate.

  And I wish I could do something to really make her smile.

  Chapter Six – Tessa

  Luke didn’t get into too much trouble. Before chemistry, he told me he only got three days of detention. I let out a relieved sigh and even though I wished we could have talked more, class got all our attention.

  I grab my sandwich and head to the library for lunch. I don’t want to deal with Kenneth. I don’t want to answer Diego’s or Luke’s questions about the junior scholarship because it’s still too raw. And I need some peace and quiet to look for information on Lacey.

  I’ve overheard Kenneth’s comment. Kenneth’s an ass. Today especially. He’d been leaving me alone for the past months, but it seems Luke sets him off. Ever since Luke and I started eating lunch together, Kenneth’s been looking at us like he wants to destroy whatever is going on. Luke and I don’t talk much during lunch. We chat about classes and then we sit in silence—unless Diego is with us. Today Kenneth was like a dog trying to establish dominance in a pack, but no matter his reasoning—if he has any—what he said hit Luke. Kenneth’s cousin works for the sheriff’s department. He must know something. Luke’s face when Kenneth mentioned Lacey changed from anger to fury tinged with fear.