“Are you still spending the weekend with Danielle?” I asked. She’d talked about this last week. She was getting good at disappearing, and running off to Danielle’s house. She never got into trouble like I did, though. I wondered how she got away with it.
“Yes,” she said, shifting her nearly empty book bag on her shoulders. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her t-shirt clung to her tall frame.
“Check in every once in a while,” I reminded her.
“Since when were you the boss?” she snapped at me. “Just don’t tell mom.”
I sighed, rolling my eyes. It wasn’t like I wanted to stop her from
a good time. I was probably the only one around who could understand. We escaped to be around people that liked us. I didn’t want to see her punished like me.
She sped up, heading to the garage door of our house. I hoped she listened to me, but if she didn’t, I hoped she wouldn’t get caught. There was nothing else I could do.
The house was quiet. It was then I remembered that my father would be gone all weekend. I sunk into myself, disappointed. I might not be able to spend the night with Kota and Nathan after all. I felt guilty about leaving my mother by herself all night. Marie would be gone for the weekend. If something happened and I wasn’t home, it would be my fault.
I wondered if my mother had eaten. I wanted to change my clothes and planned to check on her after. If she was sleeping, I’d wake her to get her to eat something. It was risky. Depending on her mood, I might end up on my knees again. Still, since Kota was gone, it wasn’t a problem now. No one was expecting me.
I skipped the steps two at a time and walked into my bedroom. I dumped the contents of my book bag onto my bed since I needed to clean it out. I told myself I would get all my homework done like Kota said before I attempted to text Victor or Luke or someone just to talk.
When I was done emptying my book bag, I tossed my bag on the floor. I stripped off my shoes and socks, leaving on the shorts and the blouse I had worn to school.
I went to the upstairs bathroom, turned on the faucet and washed my face. I heard fumbling in the hallway and I thought it was Marie getting ready to go to Danielle’s. I brushed my teeth just to feel fresh. I touched the cup of my bra, expecting to feel my phone there but remembered it in my back pocket. I pulled it out, wondering if I should charge it. I returned it to my pocket, drawing my shirt down far enough so the lower hem hid the bulge.
Out of habit, I tidied the counter, getting rid of a hairbrush and some of Marie’s makeup and tossing it into a drawer, wiping down the white countertop and cleaned off a smudge from the medicine cabinet mirror. If I left it to Marie, the bathroom would be a wreck.
I opened the bathroom door and crossed the hallway again to my room and stopped cold. My mother was inside and bent over my bed. She was sweating. Her dark, graying hair was matted against her flushed forehead and cheeks. Was this the same person I’d left this morning?
Her face lifted and her gaze met mine. I could have died where I stood.
She crumbled papers in her hands. Blood drained from my face as I recognized the detention slip and the unread notes I’d collected from school.
“What,” she seethed, “is this?” She held up the detention slip toward me and the opened notes. Had she read them?
I swallowed, holding my place by the door. “People pass notes to me in class,” I said. “I don’t read them. I just throw them away.”
She narrowed her eyes and her voice gurgled as she pointed at me. “You wear shorts like that to school?” she demanded. “Do you expect me to believe for one moment...” Her breathing sped up. “And you got detention.”
She never talked about my clothes before. I rattled, unsure what to say. “The clothes are within school regulation. And that was an accident--”
“Inappropriate touching,” she called out to me, her voice grating in a higher pitch. “You’re touching boys in school.”
“No,” I said. I eased back a step and sighed, not sure if I should fight it. If I started kneeling now or sat on that stool, maybe I could get it over with in a few hours. I swallowed again when I realized my dad wouldn’t be here this time to help if she left me alone for too long. At least I had the phone with me. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about that detention slip. I’d been so busy with the fighting at school and trying to keep up with the boys that I’d neglected a lot of things.
“You wear those clothes. Boys write nasty things to you. I have the teacher’s note right here telling me what happened to you in school,” she declared. Her fists crumpled the papers in her hands tighter and she let go, letting them fall around her feet. “What else have you been hiding from me?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she spun toward the bookshelf, yanking novels off of the shelves. She glared at the covers and pitched them to the ground. “Is it these books? Are they telling you to allow boys to touch you? To touch them back?”
“No,” I said, trying to look humble, my eyes downcast. My insides quivered. I didn’t understand her questions. Did she think books told me what to do? Like demon possession? I was ashamed of myself already and couldn’t face her. I knew I was fibbing. Some boys did touch me but not like she was thinking. She would never understand.
“You’re lying,” she cried out. She pointed a finger at the papers on the floor and glared at me. “I know I didn’t teach you to do these things. Inappropriate touching!”
I bit my lip, closing my eyes. Please, please just get it over with.
“Well?”
What did she want? I didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, unsure what else to say. I trembled. “Mom, you haven’t eaten. You should eat something. You don’t look good.”
I sensed her crossing the room and out of some deep survival instinct, my arms swung up as I tried to cover my head. She grabbed a handful of my shirt, yanking on it until it twisted around my neck, and dragged me out into the hallway. “Shut up. I will not have a child lie to me and think she can get away with behaving like a tramp.”
She pushed me through the open bathroom door across the hall. I stumbled onto the tile, standing in front of the shower tub. She pointed a chubby finger at me. “Stay right here,” she demanded. “When I come back, you better be right here.”
I shivered, crossing my arms over my chest and nodding. I swallowed back tears, unsure of what she was going to do. Why was I in the bathroom?
She left and she was gone for so long that I thought maybe she had forgotten about me. Did she mean for me to wait in the bathroom all day? Where was Marie? Was she hiding or did she already leave?
Clunking sounds erupted from the hallway. I recognized the sound of the stool scraping against the wood floor as she pushed it forward. I sighed, feeling a bit better. If she wanted me to sit in the bathroom on the stool, that would be better for me, too. She usually made me sit in the kitchen. Upstairs I wouldn’t have to be so paranoid looking over my shoulder. I could text with Victor and the others for a while until I was released. I could probably get up and walk around, too. That wouldn’t be so bad.
She pushed the stool through the doorway. She threw it at me. I ducked, holding up my arms as the wood hit me across my shoulder. “You will not,” she screamed at me, “leave here. I absolutely can’t believe you are making me do this.” Her eyes were wide and wild. She pointed at the bathtub. “Put the chair in there.”
With shaking hands, I pulled back the curtain of the shower, putting the stool on the floor of the tub. It wobbled a little as the bottom of the tub was uneven.
“Sit,” she said.
I carefully climbed in, putting my butt in the seat and placing my feet on the wood supports. I was confused as to why she wanted me in here but wasn’t sure what else to do.
She held out a couple of thick cords and my eyes bulged out of my head. I remembered them from when we moved. We’d used them to strap a couple of boxes to the top of the car.
She gripped my arm, twisting it around until I almost toppled from the stool. I corrected myself, and she wrenched my hands around my back. She weaved the cord between one of the spokes of the stool behind me and she twisted the rope around my wrists. She tied off the cord around a slat well outside of my reach. I tested the cord, pulling against it. I was tied to the chair and wouldn’t be able to get up without bringing it with me.
She used the other cord around my ankles, interweaving the rope on another spoke of the chair. I shivered hard, suppressing tears. Now I wouldn’t be able to get up at all. I was already wobbling to keep balanced. If I tilted too far one way or another, I could easily fall over, hurting mysel
f.
When she was done, she stood back. I swallowed, uncomfortable and worried the guys now wouldn’t hear from me for hours if she left me here as long as she usually did. I wasn’t sure I could reach my phone.
And no one was around to save me. Marie was gone. My father wouldn’t be home for days. If she forgot about me this time, I had no one to help.
She stood in silence in front of me, considering, calculating. I pursed my lips, unsure if I should suggest she eat. How would she untie me, anyway? The knots weren’t fashioned with expertise. They were a garbled mess. If I could reach them, I could possibly undo them, but from my position, there was no way.
She nodded as if replying to a question that wasn’t asked. She bent over and she started the water in the tub, hitting the shower lever.
The water shot out cold. I gasped, crying out. I focused simply on trying to balance myself on the chair and keep my face away from the spray.
“You won’t move,” she said. “You should have known better. You’re doing this to yourself. You will never talk to a boy again at school. You’ll never even think about touching one or crossing that line ever again.”
She twisted the knobs of the shower until they were all the way on hot. She shoved the stool and I almost toppled over on her. For someone who was sick, it surprised me she was able to hold me up.
When she had positioned me how she wanted, she aimed the shower head. She pushed it until the water was going over my face and shoulders and down my front. No matter how I moved, I couldn’t escape from the water spray. The best I could do was cower my shoulders, putting my face down to get some relief from the constant stream.
When the water started warming up, at first I was grateful because the cool water left me shivering.
The water heated quickly.
I started crying. I bent my head forward, toward my chest and trying my best to get my face out of the flow. My voice filled the bathroom as I knocked my wrists and ankles against the wood.
“Please,” I cried out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me here.” I sobbed, took in a breath. I couldn’t see her anywhere. I was facing the wrong way.