Page 15 of Tell Me Softly

Chapter Nine

Kami

Look through that window and you can see the home of the person whose fault this is, and nothing you or anyone else does is going to change my mind about that.

His words had echoed clearly through my bedroom window, which I’d kept propped open in the muggy night.

I guess the brothers didn’t mind airing their dirty laundry.

That was something my mother never would have stood for.

When we fought––and fights there were, and lots of them––the first thing Mom always said was, Shut the damn windows, I don’t want the neighbors hearing!

Sometimes it was me versus her, sometimes her versus Dad, sometimes she even dragged Cam into it.

She could be so cruel, but it didn’t matter as long as the outer image of the perfect Hamilton family remained intact.

She knew people loved to gossip about us, she never ceased to remind us of that, and I’d learned to control myself and to speak softly and slowly.

Trust me, though: with her, it wasn’t easy.

Knowing Thiago blamed me for what had happened eight years ago, for the suffering he’d been through, broke my heart. I’d always felt guilty. I’d always known if I hadn’t opened my mouth that none of this would have happened, and growing up with that knowledge had scarred me.

For years, it was even hard for me to sleep.

My father wanted to send me to a psychologist, but my mother kept saying I was just trying to get their attention.

Me! I was the one who’d always stuck to the shadows.

I hated being the center of attention, whereas my mother was the one who’d always wanted to show me off, like I was a little doll she could dress up in fancy outfits for others’ delight.

The Di Bianco brothers were the only ones who ever helped me figure out who I really was, who allowed me to explore my wild side, indulge my curiosity, my will to push things to the limit.

There was almost nothing left of that Kamila now, though.

I lay down in bed and grabbed a drawing pad that I always kept under my pillow.

It was full of sketches. I loved drawing: it was the one thing left over from the girl I used to be, and I would never stop, no matter how much people thought it was kids’ stuff.

My parents didn’t mind it, strangely enough.

I guess my mother saw it as another thing about me she could brag about to her friends.

When she took my drawings to show them, I always died of embarrassment.

I usually wouldn’t even let Ellie see what was on those pages.

For me, they were more like a diary. My thoughts, all the emotions I never let anyone see, could come out there thanks to my number two pencil.

But I didn’t like the eyes on the portrait I’d been working on all week.

I wanted them to be perfect, but it was hard to match the perfection of the real thing: Thiago’s eyes.

His chin I’d captured, his aquiline nose, but his eyes…

There was just no way to bring that vividness to life, the intensity he looked back at you with.

I tried to think back to a few minutes before, when I’d seen them boring holes through me across the distance between our houses.

But the pain in his words, the ache of knowing what he really thought of me, drove me to despair.

At least things with Taylor were going better.

He’d been nice to me that morning, but then Thiago made me feel like a fool.

I closed my pad and put it back under my pillow, turning off the light and promising myself I’d try to get reacquainted with my old best friend tomorrow.

Maybe things with Thiago were ruined forever, and I’d have to accept that, no matter how sad it was.

I’d have to settle for the brother who still seemed to care about me.

***

“Give me an L!” we shouted with all the enthusiasm we could muster in cheerleading practice. “Give me an E! CARSVILLE!”

I felt the air swish around me, twisted with my arms pulled in tight, and after my turn in the air, I fell into the arms of my teammates. They tossed me again, I did a front flip, and I landed in front of them, taking a bow as they stood behind me in a pyramid.

There was no audience, but the guys on the team were warming up, and at least one of them kept glancing over at us.

Victor Viani. When I looked up, he said, “Yeah, babe, that’s how you do it!

” I ignored him and turned to the other girls.

After what he’d said to me at the game, I didn’t ever want to speak to him again.

I didn’t even want to be there, yelling and screaming and shaking my pompoms in front of any of those guys.

Ever since Danny and I had broken up, they’d treated me differently: either they were disappointed and resentful, or they were happy to finally make nasty remarks about me without Danny telling them to keep it to themselves.

Since when did being a girl mean that guys could shout disgusting things at you whenever they felt like it?

I mean, a compliment is one thing, but just assuming you could shout babe at me across the gym, after that nonsense about how I was a grown-up the other day…

who did he think he was? And I didn’t care what he thought of my routine.

I was an athlete just like him, not some dog waiting for a pat on the head and a treat.

“Everyone in the middle of the gym, now!” That was Thiago, shouting from one of the doorways. When I turned, I saw him with two men and a woman in white coats with folders in their hands. “Cheerleaders too!” he added, looking straight at me.

All of us looked back and forth at each other as we approached the center of the gym.

“It seems like a lot of you have forgotten, but today’s the blood drive. These people are here from the Red Cross. I want everyone to make the school proud. Giving blood can save lives, so let’s show how much Carsville High cares.”

I looked around nervously, and Thiago looked up from his clipboard.

“Hamilton?” he asked wearily, as though bored before I’d even asked a question.

“Shouldn’t we have been informed of this?” I asked. All those white coats made me nervous.

“A notice was sent out to all the parents. I’m sorry your mommy didn’t read it to you,” he said contemptuously.

It might seem stupid, but the whole thing just weirded me out.

I was an orderly person: my test dates, birthdays and holidays, even my periods I kept track of on my calendar.

I suddenly had this vision of them sticking a needle into my arm and me fainting, getting laughed at, being ashamed.

I hated doctors; I had ever since I got a lung infection when I was five years old. I felt my knees get weak.

“Hey, are you OK?” Ellie asked. From the worried expression on her face as we lined up to go to the bloodmobile, I figured I must look terrified.

I imagined them there in that van filling up sacks of blood, sticking labels on them, poking needles into people’s arms, and my stomach turned; my ears started ringing.

“I think I just need some fresh air.” I walked past the line and around the corner of the gym. The fresh air hitting my lungs helped me recover my nerves.

“Hey, Kami,” I heard someone say. “Are you all right?”

It was Taylor.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about.” I walked over to the bleachers and sat down, closing my eyes for a moment.

“You’re white as a sheet,” he said, his voice sounding like he was speaking from a thousand miles away.

“I just need a few minutes,” I said, lying down and feeling the cool metal of the bleachers on my cheek.

“Should I get the school nurse?” he asked. My eyes flew open.

“No!” I shouted, grabbing his arm to keep him from moving.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he said, crouching down. He pushed my hair out of my face and added, “I can’t believe you’re still afraid of needles.”

His fingers touching me made a pleasant warmth spread through my stomach. He was so kind, so good, and his attention made my anxiety abate. But then another voice, the exact opposite, interrupted us, shouting, “What the fuck are y’all doing?”

Taylor sighed and stood.

“She doesn’t feel good,” he said to his brother. “I don’t think she should give blood today.”

I struggled to sit up so I wouldn’t look weak in front of the person who seemed to want to insult me at every turn.

“This isn’t an option,” Thiago said, staring me down, almost as if he were X-raying me with his eyes.

“I promised the coach and the principal I could get everyone on the team who was seventeen or older to donate. This is a big deal for them, and I’m not going to let her mess it up.

Taylor, go ahead and get back in line. I’ll take care of her. ”

Neither of us could believe his attitude.

“Getting a needle stuck in me is better than seeing your face,” I said, and stood up, feeling immediately faint.

I stumbled, but Thiago’s strong arms caught me and held me up, squeezing me into his ripped chest. I smelled that scent I knew from years ago, but it had matured, the way they say old wine does.

I wondered, Is that what testosterone smells like?

“Try and sit,” he said, placing me back on the bleachers.

Seeming more worried than before, he said to his brother, who looked angry, “I’ll stay here with her.

” I guess Taylor didn’t trust him because he took two steps toward us, and his brother reprimanded him: “I told you to go. If you don’t donate, I’ll make sure you spend Friday’s game on the bench. ”

To reassure him, I said, “I’m fine, really.” I even tried to stand up again, but Thiago’s hand on my shoulder forced me down.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, his hand edging slightly closer to my neck. “Go on, Taylor.”