Page 11

Then, two weeks later, I stood inside the bathroom, wearing one of my father’s suits that was just a little too loose on my lankier frame.

And I hated it.

Because I looked like him.

It had never occurred to me before how our faces were the same shape or that our shoulders were just as broad.

When I paid close enough attention to the cut of my jaw or the curve of my mouth, I saw him there too.

And why were our eyes the exact same shade of blue?

A cold, icy color that made me suddenly shiver at the sight of my own reflection.

It's the suit , I kept telling myself.

I wanted to tear it off and set it on fire, but I couldn’t wear a baggy T-shirt and jeans to the dance, and none of my dressier clothes fit me anymore.

I emerged from the bathroom to find Dad standing outside the door. He startled me initially, but the way his lips curled with satisfaction made my skin crawl.

“You clean up nicely,” he said, and that little part of me that craved his affection felt instantly soothed. “You can wear a pair of my shoes if they fit you.”

“I think I’ll just wear my sneakers,” I said .

I didn’t care how ridiculous it might look. I needed to wear something that was mine, apart from my underwear.

“Suit yourself,” he muttered with a hint of condescension.

I crossed the hall to my bedroom and sat on the bed to stuff my feet into my beat-up sneakers. Dad had coughed over the money for one pair at the beginning of the school year, nothing more, and I never complained. But now, I wished I had something else to wear. Something other than his shoes.

His form took up the doorway, throwing a shadow across the floor. I flicked my eyes up to look at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Remember what I said, boy. No hotels. No parties. You go to that dance, and you come right back here.”

“I have nowhere else to go.” I could barely hear my own voice as I grumbled.

“I was eighteen once. I know what you want to do to that girl.”

My hands stilled on the laces as what he said burrowed beneath my skin. What I wanted to do to her, not with her. Like a woman's body was something to take, steal, and not something to accept as an offering she willingly gave.

"I don't want to do anything to her," I said.

He scoffed. "You can't fool me, boy. I'm not an idiot. I'm not blind. I saw the way you looked at her. But there won't be any of that—do you understand me? Keep it in your goddamn pants. "

My father had never spoken to me about sex before. Never gave me the talk or anything like that. Everything I knew, I'd learned at school or from the books I'd read. And judging from the way he was speaking about it, about her , I was glad for it.

"Don't worry about me," I muttered, standing from the bed and hurrying to brush past him. "You never have. Don't need to start now."

I half expected for him to reach out and grab my arm or box the ear that had only started to heal from the last assault. But he didn't. He let me pass, and I ran down the stairs and out the door, not bothering to look back to see if he was watching me leave.

***

I met Ricky and Molly at the high school entrance. Ricky was in a tuxedo, looking more dapper than I’d ever thought possible, and Molly was in a formfitting black dress to match.

"You look very pretty, Molly," I told her, and her cheeks flushed.

"Oh, thanks," she said, fiddling with the ends of her curled chocolate-brown hair. "I borrowed this dress from my sister. She had worn it to her prom a couple of years ago."

I smiled awkwardly, not knowing what else to say, and I turned to watch the street for Laura.

Guilt settled in my chest as I wondered if I should've picked her up.

She had told me not to, had told me it was okay, but now that she was late, I hated the idea of her walking alone …

until a station wagon pulled up to the curb, Laura in the passenger seat.

I hurried over to help her out, and as I pulled the car door open, a man's voice came from inside the car.

"Hey, are you Max?"

I crouched to meet the eyes of the older guy sitting beside her and nodded. "Yeah. Max Tailor, sir."

"Sir," he repeated, furrowing his brow and nodding thoughtfully. "Listen, Max Tailor. My daughter speaks very highly of you. I trust her. Don't disappoint me, all right?"

"I won't, sir."

He held my eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to find the proof that I could be trusted with his daughter. Something flickered over his gaze—a revelation—like he'd found what he was looking for, and he opened his mouth to speak when Laura groaned.

"Daddy, please. Max doesn't need to be interrogated right now."

He glanced at her and sighed. "Okay, okay. You kids have fun. Max, can I trust you to walk her home, or should I be back here later?"

"I can walk her, sir," I said.

He seemed satisfied with that answer, and I held out my hand for Laura.

She laid hers in my palm, and I helped her out of the car.

That was when I got a good look at her dress.

It was long, like Molly's, but instead of being black, Laura's was a grayish blue that glinted with a silver sheen beneath the lampposts outside the high school.

The skinny little straps lying over her shoulders glittered with gemstones, matching the earrings that dangled from her ears, left naked from her long, dark hair twisted back in some complicated-looking style.

"Wow," I croaked.

I didn't need to go inside to know that my prettiest friend was hands down the prettiest girl at this dance, and she took my breath away, just as she had that first day I saw her months ago.

Her father cleared his throat, and I shook myself from my speechless stupor.

"I'll see you later, Daddy," Laura said, never taking her eyes from mine.

"Mmhmm," he grumbled from inside the car.

"I'll take care of her, sir," I promised, leaning down to meet his eye again. "You have my word."

"Max, the crazy thing is, I believe you."

He offered a half-hearted smile, and I understood what that sad glint in his eyes was sooner than I would've liked.

It was the pain of not wanting to let go, but knowing that you had to, that you didn’t have a choice, and that time would force your hand whether you liked it or not.

And I wished my parents cared enough to look at me that way.

I wished my parents cared at all.

***

I didn’t know how to dance, but it didn’t matter.

I didn’t know how to go on a proper date, but it didn’t matter .

None of it mattered, except for the smile that never left Laura’s face. Not ever. Not once. Not when I stepped on her feet, not when I backed her into Ricky and Molly. She just kept on smiling, and so did I.

Our little group drank punch and ate hors d’oeuvres. We popped in and out of the throng of dancing students and took up residence at a table in a dark corner, away from the crowd. We chatted when we could hear each other above the music, and when we couldn’t, we just enjoyed the time.

This is the best night of my life , I kept thinking every time Laura’s hand was in mine and my hand was pressed to the small of her back and her head was against my shoulder.

Tonight makes me wish I weren’t leaving.

None of them know .

I swept my eyes over the table. Pausing at the laughing smile of my best friend as he slung his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. The small hands wrapped around mine and that beautiful, bright smile that seemed to have found a permanent place on Laura’s face.

I felt like a liar, sitting there, tangled up in their friendship and company. I felt like I didn’t deserve it when they didn’t know the truth of what my summer would look like once graduation was behind me.

So, when there was a rare lull in the music, I abruptly announced, “I joined the Army.”

Ricky’s head swiveled so fast on his neck as he turned to stare at me. “You what?”

Molly leaned forward to see me beyond Ricky. “The Army? Why? ”

Laura’s hand went limp in my grasp, and I glanced at her as I said, “I, um … I just wanted to get away from here, and—"

“You didn’t tell us,” Laura whispered.

“I know. I—"

She wrenched her hand away as she stood. “We all care about you, about what’s going on at your house with your dad, but you don’t give a shit about us.”

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and she turned to run from the table and out the door.

I stared, dumbfounded. “What just happened?” I asked as the music began to play.

Ricky’s shoulder bumped against mine as he said, “I think you just broke her heart. And I can’t say I blame her.”

I looked at him, brow furrowed. “What?”

He shrugged, a look of cool indifference on his face. “She likes you, man. We all do, but especially her. And you clearly don’t like her enough to let her know when you’re skipping town.”

“I have to do what I have to do,” I argued, desperation fracturing my voice.

What the hell did any of them know about what it was like to live with my dad?

Ricky had a great mom. Laura’s dad seemed cool enough.

They didn’t understand what it felt like to live under an iron fist. They didn’t know what it was like to fight for your life against the person who had given it to you.

Ricky’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. “Is this about your dad? Or is it more about you ? ”

“It’s about me needing to do something with my life, away from him,” I said immediately, without hesitation.

Because that was the truth. I wanted to do this as badly as I wanted to get away from Dad.

I wanted to do something that held purpose .

I wanted to prove to myself that I could, that he hadn’t beaten the strength and willpower from me.

I wanted to prove it to him .

Then Ricky nodded, finally convinced. “Okay. But I wish you had told us. And I think that’s how Laura feels too.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, pushing my hair back. “I guess I’ll go find her.”

And I did.