Page 12 of Between Never and Forever
“Yes, you are. You’re bein’ an asshole, and you know it.”
We stare at each other. His teeth are gritted, and his nostrils are flaring, and I can tell his heart must be beating wildly. The way his jaw is clenched makes the dimple in his chin look deeper. Levi is never angry. Irritated, yes. Almost always irritated with me. But angry? Never. My stomach clenches, and when I speak, it comes out quieter than I want.
“What did I do?”
I wince because I sound like a wimp, so I straighten my shoulders and try to school my face into something less bothered.
“Just freakin’ tell me.”
“You need to go talk to someone,” he says firmly, repeating what he told me this morning.
I glance around to make sure no one is listening.
“Shut up,” I whisper, but he shakes his head.
“Savannah, I’m serious. This is too much this time. This is worse. You need to tell someone, and if you don’t, I will.”
Fear sparks through me, like spiders on my skin, and my eyes narrow with a threat.
“I swear to god, Levi, if you tell anyone, I will never forgive you. Ever. I will never, ever speak to you again. I swear it.”
The silence between us stretches, and our eyes stay locked. When he finally opens his mouth, his voice is a sad whisper.
“I’d rather you never talk to me again because you’re angry than you never talk to me again because you’re dead.”
I want to argue, but I can’t. He stands up and leaves me sitting at the table before I can even get a word out.
I spend the rest of the school day hiding out in the bathroom, then I walk home instead of taking the bus, because I don’t want to see Levi right now.
He’s wrong. Talking to someone about Terry won’t fix anything. It will make it worse. I can’t get sent to some messed-up foster family, or one of those shitty group homes. I’ve heard stories about how nasty they are. I’m better off just laying low until graduation.
The kick was my fault, anyway.
I got in his way when I knew he was messed up and looking for a fight. I should have just stayed in my room. I should have climbed out the window and peed in the yard. I should never have been in the same room with him, and when he started in on Mom, I should have kept my mouth shut.
My side aches with each step, and I breathe through the pain. At least it’s dulling by the day. It will be healed soon.
It won’t happen again. I’ll keep my head down next time. Levi’s wrong. Terry isn’t going to kill me. He won’t even touch me again.
I swallow back the impulse to throw up.
It’s only a few more years.
There are no extra cars on the street, so I creep up to the corner of my house. I hold my breath and listen for a few seconds. When I don’t hear anything, I walk up the cracked sidewalk, grab the rusted knob, and let myself into the dark, dirty house.
I’m halfway down the short hallway when the door to my mom’s room swings open, and Terry steps out, halting me in my tracks. He’s wearing just a pair of boxer shorts, and he has a beer can in one hand and a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. The pain in my side intensifies as every muscle in my body tightens.
I should have waited a little longer before coming in. I should have climbed through my window. I should have crept around the side of the house and listened outside Mom’s bedroom window first.
“You’re late,” Terry sneers, the scent of alcohol on his breath. “You got chores.”
“Leave her alone,” my mom calls from somewhere inside the bedroom.
I don’t look toward my mom. I don’t take my eyes off Terry. You don’t let your guard down around a coiled pit viper. If I act scared, he’ll strike. If I act cocky, he’ll strike. I try to gauge his mood based on his tells, but he just looks angry.
“I didn’t take the bus,” I say clearly, making sure my voice doesn’t shake. “I’ll do ‘em now.”
He takes a step toward me, and I grit my teeth, but I don’t flinch, and I can tell immediately that I messed up. My lack of reaction pisses him off.
