offâ? He should have stopped. But he didnât. Suddenly I wasnât frozen anymore. I felt strong. And angry. Angrier than Iâve ever been. His bare, wet chest collided with my palms, and I shoved himâhard. He staggered and fell backward. All one hundred and seventy pounds of him. It was like felling a redwood with a steak knife.
âTimber!â I yelled as he crashed against the hot tub. I waited for him to get up, but he lay perfectly still. I nudged him with my bare toe. Nothing. Nothing at all. I froze up again, Iâm not sure for how long. Could have been one minute. Could have been ten. It was just Tyler and me, in a bubble of colored light. Iâm not proud of what I did next. I knelt down and made sure he still had a pulse. Iâm not sure what I would have done if he hadnât, but he did. I stood up, put on my dress and flip-flops and used my cell to call for an ambulance. I didnât give my name, and I didnât wait for the ambulance to come.
I walked down the rotting wooden steps, shut the gate behind me and got into Momâs Honda. It smelled like her: Trident cinnamon gum and Dove body wash. I love that smell.
I turned the key in the ignition and drove off. I heard the siren. Then the ambulance passed me, its lights blurred by my tears.
Chapter Two
When I got home, I did what I always do when Iâm upset: I emailed my brother Augie. He was probably awake, playing online Scrabble or writing an essay. When he first went away to university a year ago, he told me he liked getting my emails. He refuses to text or use Facebook. So I tell him about my life, and he says I make him laugh. Itâs not like writing for school. I do as little of that as I can get away with and still get good grades. Good enough to keep Mom and Dad off my case anyway. Augieâs the smart one. Iâm the fun one. All my report cards, since grade one, have said pretty much the same thing. March is very social, and it affects her grades in a negative way. Augieâs report cards said sort of the opposite. So now he has a few really close friends and a massive scholarship. I have three fake IDS , a closet full of designer clothes, and a hot boyfriend. Make that a hot ex-boyfriend.
Hey Augie,
Tonight I caught Tyler banging a chick named Kayla in Brad Binghamâs hot tub. I broke up with him. I donât get it. Kayla is a total ho. You know what she said to me? She said, âSo much for your perfect life, bitch.â For some reason that made me feel like shit, but Iâm not sure why. Is it my fault that he cheated on me? Did I deserve it? What did she mean? I feel like Iâm going crazy.
March
I couldnât bring myself to tell Augie about shoving Tyler, or about leaving before the ambulance came. Usually I tell Augie everything. This was the first time I had kept a secret from him. It didnât feel good. I shut my laptop and crawled into bed. My bedroom is huge and painted sky blue with shiny white trim. Itâs on the top floor under a gable, at the opposite end of the house from Mom and Dadâs room on the main floor. You get to my room up a narrow twisting staircase off the kitchen. Augieâs bedroom is two doors down, waiting for him to come home for a visit. In between is the guest bedroom. The bathroom across the hall, complete with claw-foot tub, is cold, even in summer. Mom keeps promising to have it renovated, but sheâs always too busy.
My bed is tucked into a south-facing nook that is lit at night by the lighthouse near the golf course. There are blackout curtains, but I never use them. The green light washes over me as I sleep. I find it comforting, as if I am being stroked by a friendly alien. When I was little, I used to tell people that when I grew up I was going to be the lighthouse keeper. The lighthouse is automated now, so that career is out. So far, I havenât thought of another one.
I love it when itâs foggy and the foghorn
âTimber!â I yelled as he crashed against the hot tub. I waited for him to get up, but he lay perfectly still. I nudged him with my bare toe. Nothing. Nothing at all. I froze up again, Iâm not sure for how long. Could have been one minute. Could have been ten. It was just Tyler and me, in a bubble of colored light. Iâm not proud of what I did next. I knelt down and made sure he still had a pulse. Iâm not sure what I would have done if he hadnât, but he did. I stood up, put on my dress and flip-flops and used my cell to call for an ambulance. I didnât give my name, and I didnât wait for the ambulance to come.
I walked down the rotting wooden steps, shut the gate behind me and got into Momâs Honda. It smelled like her: Trident cinnamon gum and Dove body wash. I love that smell.
I turned the key in the ignition and drove off. I heard the siren. Then the ambulance passed me, its lights blurred by my tears.
Chapter Two
When I got home, I did what I always do when Iâm upset: I emailed my brother Augie. He was probably awake, playing online Scrabble or writing an essay. When he first went away to university a year ago, he told me he liked getting my emails. He refuses to text or use Facebook. So I tell him about my life, and he says I make him laugh. Itâs not like writing for school. I do as little of that as I can get away with and still get good grades. Good enough to keep Mom and Dad off my case anyway. Augieâs the smart one. Iâm the fun one. All my report cards, since grade one, have said pretty much the same thing. March is very social, and it affects her grades in a negative way. Augieâs report cards said sort of the opposite. So now he has a few really close friends and a massive scholarship. I have three fake IDS , a closet full of designer clothes, and a hot boyfriend. Make that a hot ex-boyfriend.
Hey Augie,
Tonight I caught Tyler banging a chick named Kayla in Brad Binghamâs hot tub. I broke up with him. I donât get it. Kayla is a total ho. You know what she said to me? She said, âSo much for your perfect life, bitch.â For some reason that made me feel like shit, but Iâm not sure why. Is it my fault that he cheated on me? Did I deserve it? What did she mean? I feel like Iâm going crazy.
March
I couldnât bring myself to tell Augie about shoving Tyler, or about leaving before the ambulance came. Usually I tell Augie everything. This was the first time I had kept a secret from him. It didnât feel good. I shut my laptop and crawled into bed. My bedroom is huge and painted sky blue with shiny white trim. Itâs on the top floor under a gable, at the opposite end of the house from Mom and Dadâs room on the main floor. You get to my room up a narrow twisting staircase off the kitchen. Augieâs bedroom is two doors down, waiting for him to come home for a visit. In between is the guest bedroom. The bathroom across the hall, complete with claw-foot tub, is cold, even in summer. Mom keeps promising to have it renovated, but sheâs always too busy.
My bed is tucked into a south-facing nook that is lit at night by the lighthouse near the golf course. There are blackout curtains, but I never use them. The green light washes over me as I sleep. I find it comforting, as if I am being stroked by a friendly alien. When I was little, I used to tell people that when I grew up I was going to be the lighthouse keeper. The lighthouse is automated now, so that career is out. So far, I havenât thought of another one.
I love it when itâs foggy and the foghorn
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