Leslie's Journal - Allan Stratton [42]
“There won’t always be witnesses.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes go dead. “I love you, Leslie,” he says. And with that, he revs his engine. Before I can think to scream, the motorcycle lurches towards me. At the last second, it swerves back to the road and he takes off.
I phone Katie the minute I get home. I can hear her swallow. “He’s probably playing games. Pretty soon he’ll get bored and move on.”
“Or do something.”
“Don’t talk like that. It scares me.”
“You’ve never seen that look of his. So far, okay, maybe it’s all been a game. But what happens when he figures he’s lost? Jason doesn’t lose. Ever.”
“You’re psyching yourself out. He may be a bully, but it’s not like he’s killed people or anything.”
“Yet.”
Actually, “yet” is what I want to say, but I don’t have the nerve. Instead I mumble, “Yeah, you’re right.”
There’s a silence. Then Katie says, “You’re not alone, you know.”
“I know.”
“Love you.”
“Me too.”
Twenty-Eight
Nothing much else has happened for the past week. It hasn’t had to. The idea that it might is just as bad. And I can’t stop thinking about the possibilities because wherever I turn, it seems like Jason’s there.
He’s smart about it. He doesn’t get too close. But he’s always around just the same. In the corridors. Outside my classrooms. At the door to the gym. A couple of tables away in the library. By the pop machines in the cafeteria. Always with that smirky smile and that cool slouch. Sometimes his shades are on, so I can’t tell for sure if he’s looking at me. But he is.
Luckily, I have Katie. She’s dropped everything, including Ashley, to be with me after school. (She’s told her mom she’s making props for the drama club.) We put in time until I know Mom’ll be back from work, and then Katie walks me home.
For waiting, we mostly go to this little park near the school. It’s getting cold, but we huddle up on a bench and watch the world go by. People walking dogs. Kids rollerblading. Moms, some my age, pushing baby carriages. And every so often, a bunch of geriatrics with walkers. They come on outings from the local old folks’ home. By the time they all get off the bus, it’s time to get back on.
These days I’m a real downer. I don’t know how Katie puts up with me, I’m so insane. Like, I hate Jason, but sometimes I find myself missing him, too. Every so often I tuck my head in, squeeze myself into a ball and sob. Katie puts her arm around me and pats my shoulder until I stop. Maybe Beachball was right. Maybe I should go on tranks or something.
Katie tries to cheer me up. “Being happy isn’t easy. You have to work at it.” Talk about cornball. But Katie looks so serious I can’t help smiling. “See. A smile. Good. Now how about a laugh? ‘Laugh and the world laughs with you.’ That’s what Mom says.”
“Your mom is mental.”
“Come on, Leslie. Remember when you first came here, how you hated leaving Seattle and how miserable you were?”
“Earth to Katie: I’m still miserable.”
“Yeah, but you’re not crying about being homesick anymore.”
“Only because I have better things to cry about.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. But, Katie, maybe I don’t feel like being happy right now. Okay?”
“Okay.”
And we sit there, shivering, until it’s time to go home.
I haven’t told Mom about the breakup, but she knows. I can tell because she’s extra nice all of a sudden. Like, even though I haven’t been eating much, she hasn’t made a big deal about it or given me a lecture about anorexia. She hasn’t asked me to clear the table either. Best of all, she hasn’t asked questions.
Last night was a close call, though. She’s scraping plates before doing the dishes when out of nowhere she stops, wipes her hands and comes over.
I’m still at the table staring into space, twisting a napkin. Mom puts her hands on my shoulders. I don’t look up. “What?”
“You know, honey,” she says in her Sympathetic-Mom voice, “somehow things have a habit of working out for the best.” That’s one of the biggest lies in the world, but part of me likes