He hurried down the stairs and slammed the front door on his exit.
With haste, I stood up and rushed to Cheryl’s side. I bent down, reaching my hand out to help her up. She swatted it away.
“God, Maggie. Why don’t you just get a life of your own and butt out of mine?” she grumbled, standing up and rubbing her cheek. “You’re so embarrassing.”
She hurried to her bedroom and slammed her door shut.
I rushed over to my bedroom, grabbed my notebook and a marker, and ran back to Cheryl’s door, knocking.
She opened it and rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”
I scribbled on the paper. You didn’t sleep with Hank.
She ran her fingers through her hair and shifted on her feet. “Go away, Maggie.”
You were shopping with Mama yesterday. You didn’t sleep with Hank.
“It’s none of your business.”
Jordan hit you.
“I provoked him.”
He hurt you.
“I pushed him, Maggie. I pushed him.”
I gotta tell Mama and Dad that he hit you.
“Will you just shut up, Maggie?” she whisper-shouted as she reached for the page in my notebook and crumpled it up, tossing it into her room. “You don’t understand anything about relationships or boys, even. That’s just how Jordan gets sometimes. I push him, and he pushes back. Stop making a big deal out of things. Not everyone is as traumatized and damaged as you, okay? And just because you’re a freak and don’t have a life of your own doesn’t mean you can meddle in mine.”
I stepped back.
Ouch.
For a second, Cheryl’s upper lip twitched and her eyes glassed over; perhaps she was feeling regret for hurting my feelings? She shook her head back and forth, shaking off the feeling. “I’m not going to apologize, all right? You pushed me, Maggie, so I pushed back. Anyway, Jordan and I aren’t even together anymore, so it doesn’t matter. I’m on to bigger and better things now. So if you don’t mind…” She took her hand and waved me off. “Bye.”
I sighed and walked off to my room, back to my quiet corner of the world, and picked up my book once more.
Sometimes I wondered what it’d be like to leave the house, but if there were people like Jordan outside those doors, I was better off staying at home.
I couldn’t concentrate.
I’d been sitting on my bed with my book open to page two hundred and nine for several minutes, yet I hadn’t been able to read. My mind kept replaying Jordan hitting my sister. The shocked expression on Cheryl’s face as his hand made contact. The loud gasp that fell from her lips.
I shut my eyes.
Shh…
“You okay this evening, Magnet?” Brooks said, standing in my bedroom doorway later that night with a backpack hanging on his shoulder. My eyes opened and I took a breath of relief. He never knew how perfect his timing was, but he always showed up when I needed him.
I closed the book in my grip and sat cross-legged on my bed, looking up at him. His shaggy brown hair was getting long—his rock star style—and was touching the bottom of his eyebrows. Every now and then, he’d slightly flick his head back to move the hair from his eyes. Sometimes he’d pucker his lips together and puff hard to move the strands, but never—and I mean never—did he use his fingers to guide his hair. He always smiled so wide whenever he looked at me, which in turn brought smiles to my lips. I didn’t always feel like smiling, but Brooks? He made me feel as if smiling was all I ever wanted to do.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
The answer was yes. The answer was always yes.
He sat down on my bed. I reached for the notebook and pen on my nightstand, opening it up to the first free page. Beside my bed was a trash can filled with balled up pieces of paper from the nights before when Brooks came to visit. It was the way we communicated the best. In the mornings, we just listened to music, but in the afternoons, he’d speak and I’d write. I’d tried the same form of communication with Mrs. Boone, but she had told me she wasn’t going to aid me in killing trees. Plus, she said I had a voice and should be able to use it.