Follow Me Home Page 6

  “Sorry,” she says, her voice low. “I was in class. What’s going on?”

  “Did a guy named Jay ever go to our school?”

  “I heard something about a fire. Are you okay?”

  “I’ll explain later,” I say. “I just need to know about Jay. It’s important.”

  “Crap. Mr. Casey’s coming.” There’s more static and muffled talking. Then the sound of a toilet flushing. “Sorry,” she says, short of breath. “Had to hide in the bathroom. Who’d you say?”

  “Jay. Or Jason, maybe. About our age?”

  “Jay Miller? He used to go to our school. Parents died in an accident a year or two ago.”

  “An accident?” I flash back to his eyes the first time I saw him. The sadness. It sinks into me again just thinking about it.

  “He ended up in foster care or something. Then he dropped out of school last year.”

  I sit up further in my seat. “So you know him?”

  “Kind of, but not personally or anything.”

  I want to ask more, but I bite my tongue. “Jay Miller. Thanks Melody.” I drop my phone in my bag and force myself out of the car.

  The police station is mostly empty. Just a lady at the desk and a couple police officers in the back doing paperwork or something. Not at all what I pictured.

  A lady with pearl-white hair who should probably retire looks up from her desk. “Can I help you?” A cup of coffee steams on her desk, and she glances at it instead of me.

  I force a smile. “I’m looking for Jay Miller. He was arrested yesterday.”

  The lady takes a sip from her coffee and doesn’t answer.

  “I’m his sister,” I blurt out.

  She nods and turns back to her computer. I can’t tell if she’s ignoring me, or actually checking for Jay. I shuffle my feet, but she still doesn’t look up.

  “He was transferred to Richmond House this morning,” she says, finally.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Two Twenty-Five Jackson Avenue.”

  I head out the door and enter the address in my mom’s GPS. Fifteen minutes away. I veer the car onto the two-lane highway and turn up the music loud enough so I can’t think. When I turn onto an uneven road lined with trees, the song that was playing ends and the gravel sounds like gun shots under the car.

  I grip the steering wheel tighter and force myself not to step on the brakes until the building finally comes into view.

  It doesn’t look like a jail. The grey bricks in front are starting to crumble, but the rest of the property is almost inviting. The sweet smell of late summer flowers drifts through the car vents. But the bars on the windows give away everything. I squint at the sign beside the front door. Richmond House Juvenile Detention Center.

  I force myself out of the car and through the big, red front door. It thuds behind me, and I wait for my eyes to adjust to the light.

  “Can I help you?”

  My eyes land on a security guard behind a long grey desk. “Yes,” I squeak. Inside, it’s not quite as inviting. Everything is either grey or yellowy-beige – even the guard’s uniform. I take a breath. “I’m here to see Jay Miller.”

  “We don’t allow visitors outside of the regular hours.”

  “Which are?”

  “Between six pm and seven pm, weekdays.”

  “But I came a long way, and I need to see him,” I say, trying to sound desperate. “He’s my brother.”

  The security guard studies me. Please have a soft spot.

  “If you’re under eighteen, you need to be accompanied by an adult family member. And you need to come back between six and seven.”

  I swallow. “Our parents died. And I turn eighteen next month,” I lie. “Just five minutes. Please?”

  The guard glances at his watch. “Okay. But only five minutes. And next time come at six. You can wait in there.” He points me to a room off to the side with tables and chairs. The walls are that yellowy-beige color, and all the tables are bolted down. I don’t know if it’s so no one steals them, or so no one tries to use them as a weapon.

  I sit on one of the hard metal chairs in the middle of the room, but change my mind and stand up again. Don’t they have those barriers in these places where you have to talk to the person through a phone on the other side of a window? Shouting echoes from somewhere down the hall. Where did the guard go?

  A shadow fills the doorway, and I jump.

  “You’re not my sister,” Jay says.

  The light grey uniform catches me off guard. He looks like a criminal. One I willingly let into my house. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. I glance around him and spot the guard standing just outside the door.

  “No,” I say. “I’m not your sister.”

  Jay stops a few feet away from me and puts his hands in his pockets. He seems different up close. Scared. I clench my fists at my side and try not to let him soften me.

  “I’m Kelsey.” I unclench one fist and stick my hand out. I think it’s shaking, but I try not to look at it. He doesn’t move from his spot. “My house,” I say. “Did you do it?” I stare at the freckles around his nose so I don’t have to look at his eyes.

  He’s silent. I wait for him to turn around and walk back out. But then he looks up.

  “It was my house too,” he says.

  I try to hold his gaze without letting the sadness get to me. “I know. You used to live there, right?”

  He nods, and I stare at the pink and green braided friendship bracelet on his left wrist. The kind I used to make with Julie when we were eleven. I still had dozens of them in a drawer when we moved. One of the many items from Tulsa that ended up in the trash.

  “So did you do it?” I sit again and tuck my hands under my thighs. The coolness of the metal jolts me, but I don’t move. Jay swipes his hair out of his face. I can’t help but notice how clean it is up close. I expected it to be greasy, dirty, or something, and I’m grateful my hands are otherwise occupied, or I’d be tempted to reach out and touch it. Wes always had his hair buzzed short – all the football players did it to avoid helmet head, or so they said. As if they didn’t take showers after.

  I shake my head, trying to rid my mind of Wes. Jay reminds me of him now. Of how he used to act like it was nothing after he hurt me sometimes – like it was only a slip up and wouldn’t happen again. I used to go along with it too. I’d start to think it was no big deal. Just a little bruise. He just had to learn to control his temper.

  I stand, letting my chair screech against the linoleum. “Listen,” I say, my voice shaking. “I don’t care why you did it or how. It’s over. It’s already gone. I just need you to plead guilty. If you don’t, this will cost my family a lot of money. We’ve already lost everything.”

  He studies me. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything.”

  I laugh – I can’t help it. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

  “Time’s up!” the guard says. He takes Jay by the arm and pulls him toward the door.

  Jay’s eyes lock onto mine just before he slips out the door.

  “I didn’t do it,” he says.

  Chapter Six

  Rain pelts against the hotel window so hard I can barely see the parking lot.

  “Are you going to school today?” my dad asks from his side of the room. My mom’s been hogging the bathroom all morning. We’ve all been avoiding talking about the fire since Jay was charged. And since it’s the only thing on any of our minds, we haven’t been left with much to talk about.

  “Yeah I think so,” I say. I’d like nothing more than to avoid going back there for as long as I can, but the alternative is sitting in this too-small hotel room thinking about everything. About Jay and the fire and what’s going to happen now.

  “I’ll give you a ride.” My dad stands in front of the mirror and tries to straighten his tie, but it ends up more crooked.

  “Here,” I say, reaching around his neck. I loosen his tie and create the knot again – a perfec
t Windsor. My dad taught me when I was ten. I’m not sure why he thought it would be a useful skill. Maybe he was just making up for the son he never had. Either way, I was thrilled to be let in on this male tradition. I took to wearing ties around the house and even out on grocery shopping trips with my mom. Until some lady in the checkout line called me a handsome little boy, and I never wore one again.

  My dad kisses me on the cheek. “Ready to go?”

  I nod and follow him, but he stops short of the door and clears his throat.

  “The school called the other day, you know. Before the fire.”

  My head snaps up. “Why?”

  “Something about an incident in first period?”

  I swallow. “Incident?”

  He shifts his weight to his other foot. “They said they weren’t sure exactly what happened, but you might want to talk about it.” He won’t look me in the eye, and I know they told him what the ‘incident’ was.

  “It was nothing,” I say. “Some kids made up a story about me, and the teacher bought it. No big deal. Kind of an initiation. You know – the new kid thing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, Dad. It was nothing.” The bathroom door opens, and I cringe.

  “You’re going to school?” my mom asks, a towel wrapped around her head. Her eyes are tired. Sad.

  I shoot my dad a look. Beg him with my eyes.

  It doesn’t work.

  “I was just talking to Kelsey about the school calling,” he says.

  My mom closes her eyes. “I completely forgot.”

  “Just a misunderstanding,” I say. “New kid initiation. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “They said you flashed the classroom? That doesn’t sound like any kind of initiation I know.”

  “I didn’t flash the classroom, Mom. It was just a joke.”

  “If you’re not adjusting well here, make sure you tell us. Remember, this move has to be right for all of us.”

  I try to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Mom, it’s fine. It was just a joke. I didn’t do anything.”

  “If it was nothing, why did you get detention?”

  I back away and sink onto the bed. “I forgot to wear a bra! That’s it.”

  “You got detention for forgetting a bra?”

  “Apparently,” I mumble.

  My mom sits beside me on the couch and pulls the magazine from my hands. “You have to be careful about boys that age, Kelsey. You don’t want to give them the wrong idea.”

  “I said it was an accident! Don’t you have enough to worry about? Our frigging house burned down and you’re worried about me getting detention?”

  The mention of the fire makes both of them look away, and I take the opportunity to brush past them toward the door. “I’ll walk to school,” I say. I make sure the door slams closed behind me.

  ****

  When I get to school the front yard is mostly abandoned because of the rain, so I dart inside before anyone sees me. I fix my hair one more time and make it to World Issues just before the bell.

  A few eyes glance up at me, and I’m pretty sure most of the male eyes land on my chest and not on my face. Melody nods at me when I slide into my seat. It’s not a smile, but I’ll take it. I have her hot pink bra tucked in the bottom of my bag, but I’m thinking now’s not the time to hand it back to her. Someone kicks the back of my seat lightly. I don’t turn around, but I’m pretty sure it’s Taylor.

  I’m not sure if the whispers behind me are about the bra thing, or about the fire, but I don’t stick around to find out. When the bell rings, I slip out of the room before anyone can stop me.

  I make it through the morning by keeping my head down. The sad looks and whispers about fire and house outnumber the whistles and slut comments. I don’t know which is worse. I want more than anything to slip into the library for lunch and eat my sandwich in a tiny cubicle. But if I don’t face the cafeteria now, I probably never will.

  I stare at the mass of students inside and follow a stream of them into the lineup, shoving my sweaty hands in my pockets.

  In Tulsa I’d usually find a quiet patch of grass outside, and in the winter I’d sneak my lunch in the library, even though we weren’t supposed to eat in there. Just the thought of all those eyes looking at me, judging me, made me sick to my stomach. And now I’m facing an unknown cafeteria.

  I don’t know whether there are certain tables I shouldn’t be seen at, or certain people who would laugh in my face if I decided to sit with them. Right now, I’m banking on an empty table.

  I balance my tray once I get to the end of the line and quickly scan the room. The cafeteria is huge. The tables are all octagon-shaped – enough room for about ten people around each one. Most of them are already full.

  My head spins, and I lean on a table for support. The last time I tried to eat at the cafeteria in Tulsa was two weeks after Wes and I broke up. I was staring at the tables just like now – trying to decide which one was the safest. Julie had been sitting in the back corner, where we always sat. Only this time, some blonde girl was sitting in my place. I tore my eyes away and was just about to head for a different table when something landed in my soup and splashed it all over my hands.

  I lifted out the soggy paper airplane. I knew I shouldn’t have opened it, but I did anyway. On it was a cartoonish drawing of male genitals. The kind every boy mastered drawing in sixth grade and somehow still found hilarious. I crumpled it up and tossed it on the floor, just as a table near the back erupted in laughter.

  I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

  “Told you she’s scared of them,” he shouted. A bunch more people looked up and stared, Julie included. I could have just ignored it and sat down. Pretended their jokes didn’t matter to me.

  Instead, I dropped my tray on the floor, letting the soup pour out in a puddle, and I never went back in the cafeteria again.

  Now, I set my tray on top of one of the microwaves and wait for my breathing to return to normal. My fingers find the edge of my left eyebrow and I yank a couple hairs out, just at the ends. I watch them float to the ground and then scan the tables again, spotting an empty one in the middle. I make a beeline for it.

  But just when I’m about to slide into safety, five girls surround the table and fill up the empty chairs. I spin back around, feeling my face flush up to my ears. I’m about to abandon the whole idea of eating here when I hear my name.

  “Kelsey! Sit here.”

  I spin in the direction the voice is coming from and feel even more eyes on me before I spot Melody. A few other people are at her table, and one of them is Taylor. Melody slides her tray over to make room for mine.

  “This is Victoria and Ryan, and you’ve already met Taylor,” Melody says, motioning around the table. “Everyone, this is Kelsey.”

  I give a little wave and my heartbeat slows. Maybe it’s not a joke after all. No paper airplanes land in my tray and no one laughs when I sit down. Instead, they shoot me pitying looks. It’s almost worse.

  Taylor leans over Melody to look at me. “I’m sorry about your house. I saw the smoke from my place. My dad thought it was the factory.”

  I nod and shove a fry in my mouth.

  “You weren’t home, were you?” Melody asks.

  “No. No one was.”

  “You’re lucky,” Victoria says. She has long, red hair that’s too dark to be real. She looks me up and down like she’s inspecting me, and I want to crawl under the table. “So how’d it start?”

  I stare at my tray. I can still see Jay. The way he looked at me. I shiver.

  “Hey, guys, maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Melody says, saving me the second time in as many days.

  I blink away Jay’s face and try to put on a smile. This isn’t the girl I wanted to be here. “It’s okay,” I say.

  Victoria and Melody share a look from across the table. “So?” Victoria says, finally. “Did you get in trouble for the flashing th
ing?”

  “She didn’t actually flash anyone,” Melody says.

  Victoria shrugs. “That’s what I heard.”

  “Just detention,” I say, like it’s no big deal. Like I’ve gotten detention dozens of times.

  “That’s not bad,” Melody says. “Victoria once got an in-school suspension for wearing her skirt too short.”

  Victoria laughs. She’s wearing a super low-cut top I’m sure violates one of Mr. Casey’s dress code policies. “I tried to tell him my mom couldn’t afford to buy clothes that fit me,” she says.

  “Yeah, until he offered to have you talk with Ms. Mulberry,” Melody says.

  “God. Give me detention any day over an hour with her and her bad breath.”

  Melody turns to me. “You’re lucky he didn’t make you talk to her.”

  Victoria giggles. “I can totally picture it. Mr. Casey trying to be serious.” She lowers her voice. “Keep your clothes on next time, Kelsey.”

  I can’t help it – I burst out laughing for the first time in ages. I try to compose myself and my eyes land on Taylor a few seats down. He’s watching, amused. The guy next to him says something I can’t hear, and they both laugh. I stare at the table, focusing on a blob of ketchup beside my plate.

  “Ryan’s disappointed he missed it,” Melody says, looking at the guy next to Taylor.

  “Care for a repeat performance?” Ryan asks, smiling. His hair is dark and cut super short. I’m guessing from his build he plays football. He reminds of a certain someone in Tulsa I’d rather forget.

  “Sorry,” I say, doing my best to smile sweetly. “One time only. Just wanted to make my first day memorable. Everything stays covered from now on.”

  Ryan shakes his head. “What a shame.” He puts a fry in his mouth and swallows. I don’t think he even chewed it. Taylor slaps his arm.

  “There’s a party on Saturday,” Taylor says. “This guy Steve in our grade always has it on the first weekend after school starts. You should come.”

  I pause with my French fry mid-dip in the ketchup. “I should?”

  Taylor laughs. “If you want to, I mean.”