Chapter 10 – Of innocence and dissonance

I woke up in my bed to the sound of my parents arguing back and forth. Everything was black, but the moon was shedding its pale light through the window, providing at least some level of illumination. I shifted slightly and realized I wasn't alone. As my eyes began to focus in the dark, the blonde hair in front of me was a dead giveaway to who it was- Kim.

We were lying in my bed, facing each other. I listened to her softly breathing as she slept, while my head had a mini-explosion of panic.

Oh shit! What the hell happened? And why don't I remember any of it?

I began summing things up, taking note of our surroundings. The bed was made and we were sleeping on top of the covers, my bedroom door was slightly ajar and I would remember if something came about (or so I kept telling myself, at least).

Of course nothing happened; don't be stupid. We're both fully clothed for crying out loud.

Again my eyes wandered to her as my brain brought me to my senses. She looked peaceful as she slept (which was not exactly a look I was accustomed to seeing on her) and beautiful, too. Unquestionably beautiful. She was one of the few girls who looked just as stunning, if not more so, without the accompaniment of makeup. Her lips moved slightly as her eyes darted back and forth under her lids. She must have been dreaming. I smiled and gently swept a clump of hair that was lying on her cheek to behind her ear, just as I had seen her do a hundred times before. Her blonde mop was in a tangled, unkempt mess, but I'd be damned if it didn't actually add to her appeal, bordering on sexy even.

I scrunched up my face for a moment upon the realization that there was something faintly slippery feeling on my lips. I touched them with my tongue slightly and was greeted by the taste of... strawberries? Fake strawberries, but strawberries nonetheless.

What the hell did I eat and why is it still on my lips?

My parents' voices spilled into the room, both raised, but neither really yelling.

"Mel, this isn't right and you know it. He's been wandering down the wrong path ever since he started hanging out with those kids. He keeps skipping classes, he won't tell us where he's going half the time and we both know he's been sneaking out at night and now this?! Assaulting kids from other schools over water balloons, and then he ended up in the ER?!"

"They were jumped!" my mother defended in a strict tone. "Sure, they did something stupid and retaliatory, but they didn't deserve what those kids did."

"And what do we do if they decide to get the police involved? This could be his second close call to getting in all kinds of legal trouble."

"The Addler family dropped the idea of a lawsuit and there is no way those kids are going to admit they beat on a girl."

"A girl who is still here! Still here and now sleeping with our son!"

"Oh, Jesus, Keith! They're not sleeping together, they fell asleep together. It's Kim, honey! Kim! She was going to call her boyfriend and have him pick her up, but the next thing I knew she was out like a light next to Donny. They were both exhausted and, with Kim's mother working the night shift, there is no way I was leaving her with that stepfather of hers. You saw what he did to her last time she was here. Honestly, you're comparing apples to oranges and you know it."

Thank god? I questioned, feeling torn about just how innocent our situation suddenly became.

Kim felt comfortable enough around me to sleep in the same bed and, as far as I could tell, there was more sexual tension between two rocks than we had. This was clearly the 'you're like a brother to me!' gray area and I was lingering on the definition of insanity if I expected anything to change. I needed to just drop this infatuation and start paying attention to other girls again.

I heard my dad release a long, heavy sigh.

"I just... I'm worried about him."

My mom's serious tone instantly took on a much softer approach as she spoke. "I know you are and I am, too. He will always be our little boy... no matter how big he gets, but he's almost seventeen. We can't expect him to hang on our every thread of advice and not go against the grain once in a while. He needs to find things out on his own, he needs to experience things on his own and we can't help him with that, only he can. What we have to do is trust him and be there for him."

"I want to believe that, but it is so hard to watch him make mistake after mistake..."

"Come on, baby. It's late, you had a long drive home from Detroit and I'm sure you're tired. Let's just go to bed. The three of us can sit down and talk tomorrow and maybe we'll work something out that will help us all feel better."

Oh great... that's not going to be an agonizing conversation at all, I sarcastically thought to myself.

The dull pain in my face started to become more and more knife-like and I closed my eyes, willing myself back to sleep before it became too intense. I should have got up and taken something, but I was stubborn and... I didn't want to disturb Kim.

The throbbing eventually woke me up, though I truly had no idea how long I had been able to sleep through it. When I looked around, the setting was still the same- night with a splash of moonlight thrown in. I shimmied off the bed and mildly as I could, attempting to be ninja-like in my movements, but failing badly (I couldn't help but notice Kim begin to turn as I left the room).

A quick fumble of my hand across the wall and a blinding light seemed to have lit the bathroom on fire. I stumbled across the cold tile floor with scrunched eyes, reaching for the medicine cabinet door as I neared it.

"No, no," Kim's groggy voice weakly commanded. The sudden break in silence put me into a wide-eyed fright which led to me immediately squinting them shut again as the burst of light gave an additional, albeit different, shock.

"You got some pain pills; Tylenol 3 or something. Your mom put them right there, next to the sink."

I released a grunt of acknowledgment and snagged up the dark orange bottle, briefly fighting with the child-proof cap. I glanced up at the mirror as my struggle continued. The damage was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. The goose egg was actually the same size, if not even smaller, than a golf ball and my cheek was only slightly inflamed. There were a few scrapes, cuts and bruises all over, but nothing I hadn't been decorated with before.

"But you should eat first. Pain pills on an empty stomach will make you sick."

I turned to face her, my sight finally adjusting to the reintroduction of light. She still looked bushed and her hair was displaying a heavy case of bed head on the side she was lying on. I laughed and cradled my face as pain jerked through it.

"You're being awfully mothering here," I croaked out, noting how muffled my voice sounded.

She flashed a half smile, "I just wanna get you drugged so I can go back to sleep. 'Sides, it was kind of my fault this happened anyway."

"No, it wasn't," I disagreed, following her into the kitchen with my pain pill in hand. "We all followed that car looking for a fight... we just thought it would be a four on one."

"I'm the one who pushed him first."

"Doesn't matter. His friends were there by that point and there was no way they would just let us drive off, even if we didn't say a word to them."

"Well... whatever." She plopped two pieces of bread in the toaster and we stood there in silence, waiting for them to pop back up in a golden-brown color.

"How do you know where everything is?" I asked her as the realization that she did not need to ask me where the toaster or bread was.

She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "I've been here before, remember? And I pay attention, I guess. I like knowing my surroundings; where this is, where that is, where the doors are in case I need to leave in a hurry..."

Her home life had obviously made her very cautious of everyone and everything and to always have a plan B.

She looked around and seemed to be at a loss. "Butter knife? And butter?"

"Aha!" I teased, "We washed the dishes once, but you never scoped out the elusive silverware drawer."

She smirked. "Better make it a steak knife so I can stab you for good measure."

As we ate, both taking more than an ample amount of time for a single slice of toast, I asked her what happened after the hospital because I truly couldn't remember anything post pain-shot. She sighed in dissatisfaction and gave me an accusatory look, as if I was trying to pull some weird joke or something. I continued my questioning stare until she finally gave in. I was half-amused and half-horrified to be told that I acted silly and almost child-like. It was embarrassing, but at the same time she seemed to be highly entertained to tell me that I kept shushing her mid-sentence as she talked to my mother and I would flip people off at stop lights while looking high as a kite with a smile from ear to ear on my face.

I gladly took my Tylenol, hoping it would somehow take away the memory of how stupid I had acted in front of her, and Kim took me by the hand, leading me back to bed. It took her all of a minute to fall asleep again, but I had to wait for the pain to recede somewhat before my eyelids became heavy.

The more I got to know Kim, the more I understood that there was a very large difference in how she acted on the outside and how she operated on the inside. She was always on the defensive, but felt at fault for most situations she was involved in (she wouldn't admit to something like that, but if you could read her right you could easily see it) and the 'I don't care' bitchy attitude she wore with pride was marred by just how much she loved everyone who was important to her. I wasn't the only one struggling with a conflict of standards to uphold. Not by a long shot.

I dropped Kim off at her house the next morning, after just narrowly convincing my folks I was okay to drive.

"You gonna be okay?" I asked, while looking at her split lip, concerned with just how badly her parents would grill her on the injury and, subsequently, the actions that led to it if she did confide in them.

She smiled and shook her head and smiled, "I'll be fine. Just remember- forget about yesterday."

Remember to forget about yesterday? I pondered in my head as she turned and disappeared into her house. Is that some sort of oxymoron riddle?

I took my sweet time returning home for "the talk". It had to happen eventually, I knew that, but I also needed time to think of proper responses for my side of the debate, the side where I wasn't barred from my friends. Trying to figure out what Kim was talking about during our goodbye did not help my concentration. By the time I returned home though, it was a distant memory.

The conversation didn't go over as badly as I feared it would, even if the irritating subject of football kept creeping in, and most of it was just a rehashing of what I overheard the other night. But, there was one thing my dad said that kept repeating in my mind long after we finished talking.

"Son, you've got to think of five, even ten years from now. Where are you going to be? Where do you want to be? More importantly, can you get there on the current road you're traveling?"

It wasn't a bad question, and certainly not one that I hadn't already asked myself, but the problem was that I didn't have an answer. I didn't know what I wanted out of life, how to get there or if I even could. I only had a little over a year before I truly hit adulthood and to not have a plan or even an inkling of an idea was unsettling when I really thought about it.

Things hit a bit of a rough patch in the group during the regional finals game, likely right around the time I was being poked and prodded in the ER. Apparently, at some point just before the game had started, Lindsay's mother somehow broke up with Nick for her. Either Kim was sworn not to put all of the details out there or she simply didn't know everything, but the whole thing felt rather simplified from what I was told. There wasn't even any mention of how her mother knew Linds wanted to break up with Nick to begin with. In the end, it didn't matter... because what was done, was done, and they were most certainly done. The only good news from the whole reveal was that the Norsemen had won the game against Lincoln, allowing the basketball team to achieve a championship the likes our football team had yearned for for years. Sadly, things only became worse for the strained relationships in our group when Kim and Lindsay had a falling out of sorts not too long after Nick and Linds' relationship died.

Mrs. Kelly was invited to the Weir's house for dinner after the girls were caught hitchhiking and, in what I found to be very typical of Cookie, it was said that she did nothing but bash her daughter's name in front of her friend's parents. Turmoil ensued the next day at school when the two girls discussed what the Weirs thought of Kim after having a discussion with her mother. Either Lindsay said something wrong or Kim took part of the conversation the wrong way because they were at odds with one another after that. My first indication that something was amiss was during lunch. I had noticed that Kim was looking rather down and out as I sat down with her, Nick and Daniel to have our lunch. She seemed focused on her drink in front of her, taking small sips and mainly just playing with the straw while not contributing much to the conversations we were having. About five minutes after we had all collected, just before I could tap her on the shoulder and ask her what was wrong, she piped up with a rather odd question.

"Hey, guys," she said, still looking down and not directly at any of us, "what do you think the worst way to die would be?"

Right off the bat the boys took the bait and, while I was initially a bit baffled by her question, I couldn't help but join in. Kim sat silently while I threw around ideas with the other guys, each of us trying to one-up the last in terms of horrific ways we could perish, even if we had to steer into ridiculous scenarios to do so.

"The worst would be getting' eatin' alive by wolves," Nick continued on, trailing after my 'snakebites to the face' suggestion. He just had to up the ante by adding, "From the feet up."

I grinned and shook my head and Daniel protested with a 'nuh uh' and stuffed a ketchup-soaked fry in his mouth.

"No. It would be worse if you were, like, a deep-sea diver, and you came up too quick..." Daniel illustrated his point with his hands, moving them to depict a diver bursting to the surface. He held another fry between his fingers, like a half-spent cigarette, and a devious grin spread on his face as he went on. "And your head, like, exploded from all the pressure." He once again used his hands for imagery, raising them to his face and expanding them apart to show a head exploding.

"Oh, yeah!" Nick interrupted in agreement and we all began to laugh. He began to congratulate Daniel when I heard Kim talk for the first time since we had started discussing the grim subject.

"You know, you guys are really morbid!"

"Kim, you asked the question," Nick replied with his goofy grin still on display. He didn't seem thrown at all by how much the girl was obviously not enjoying the topic she had introduced.

Again I took note of her mood, and wanted to talk with her about it... but I couldn't just let Daniel have the last say in our death battle. "Okay, okay, just one more and I'll lay off," I smiled, knowing I had an ace up my sleeve with the next one. "I promise." I threw a quick glance to Kim after my pledge and was only met with a huff and a classic roll of the eyes from Blondie. Shaking my head slightly, I turned my attention back to Nick and Daniel. "Alright, so, the worst way to die, and I mean absolute worst way, would have to be being buried alive."

Nick smiled and nodded, pointing to me with a mouthful of fries being chewed to paste. "Yup!" he exclaimed in a muffled tone, exposing his partially-ground food. "That would be the worst!"

"Nah," Daniel denied, shaking his head and grabbing another french fry from his plate. "That's pretty weak."

I scoffed and protested his challenge. "No way; think about it, Daniel. You're in a small box, you can't see shit, can't hear shit except your own voice or breathing or panicking. You can't get out, and you're either gonna die of a heart-attack from fear and hysteria or you're going to slowly suffocate. The worst part is you're gonna be alone. You're gonna be alone... dying a slow, mentally excruciating death and-"

I stopped abruptly when I realized that Kim was staring at me. She had a look of complete and utter shock and dread written across her face.

"Jesus, Matsen!" she chastised from out of nowhere. "What the hell? Now I'm gonna have nightmares about being buried alive! Thanks a lot, asshole! Jeez, I didn't think we'd be talking about this for a half-an-hour!"

In reality, only about five minutes had passed from the time she had asked the question to my last answer, but I knew what she was talking about. Lindsay took a seat with us before I could apologize and the mood shifted immediately.

"Hey guys," she greeted, the silverware on her tray clanking together as she sat down in the empty chair between Nick and I. Awkwardly, Daniel and I were the only two to return her greeting. Kim stared at her with a look of what I could only read as disappointment, while Nick became all at once jittery and visibly uncomfortable, jostling around in his seat like he had a bug biting his ass.

A moment later, he stood up, announcing, "I got to, uh- go to shop class. I told Ken I'd meet him there."

We all knew he was lying, as Ken had skipped the rest of the day after third period and let Daniel, Kim and me know before he bailed. I shot a glance to Lindsay, trying to appear inconspicuous as I took a bite of my lukewarm hamburger. She seemed disheartened that Nick was leaving as soon as she got there and I had no doubt that she felt at fault for his hasty departure. After all, he was still sore over their breakup. But when Kim got up to leave too, we all knew something was up.

"Yeah, come to think of it- I should probably get going, too." There was a way about how she was speaking that immediately pulled our attention to her. It was monotone and lifeless; not at all like Kim would speak regardless of her mood. When my eyes fell on her, I could see that she was staring directly at Lindsay, focusing her passive-aggressive words at the brunette. "'Cause I gotta go, ya know, do drugs."

Astonished, Daniel, Lindsay and I shared shocked looked between one another for a fleeting moment.

"Oh yeah, and have sex," Blondie added, just as mundanely as her delivery before.

"What?!" Daniel and I both asked at the same time. While I was merely stunned by the sharp statements, Daniel was understandable more confused, and possibly concerned.

The whole time, Kim had never broken her stare towards Lindsay, making sure that her words were driving some sort of point home. "Lindsay knows what I'm talking about," she answered to our bewildered reactions, only making matters worse for everyone.

In response, Lindsay scrunched up her face for a moment before a look of slight enlightenment appeared. "Oh," she muttered, still seeming somewhat confused, "is this about what my parents said?"

Kim scoffed and stood up in a rush; life returning to her expression, but a nasty attitude accompanied it as well. "You, know, I told you Lindsay," Kim flared, "I don't give what your parents say about me."

"Well, why are you so mad?" Lindsay innocently questioned, echoing the thought that had just ran through my mind.

"I do give what my friends say about me."

The two stared at each other for a second, Kim imploring her intimidating glare while she peered down at Lindsay. It was almost like the two were in a staring contest and the first to blink would lose. As I felt the air take a slight chill, I scooted back in my seat, not at all interested in being the meat between a potential cat-fight sandwich.

In the end, Lindsay blinked, exasperatedly exclaiming that she had, in fact, not said anything. All Kim could do was huff, roll her eyes and stomp away from our table after snatching her coat off the back of her seat.

"Wow, you sure know how to clear a room," Daniel noted, crunching down on a particularly crispy French fry.

Appearing completely spent, Lindsay heaved out a sigh and looked down to her tray. I rubbed my forehead and sighed as well, suddenly remembering that I had Language Arts with Blondie next period and I was sure to be getting an earful about this whole incident for the duration of class.

I really tried to keep out of whatever it was that was going on between the two girls, regardless of the fact that Kim kept trying to pull me into the whole fiasco countless times. She would start up randomly and get pissed at me for not listening and then, during my next class, Lindsay would say she had no idea what her problem was and drone on and on about whatever while I strained to convey that I didn't want to get involved. I wasn't trying to be an asshole; it was just an unfortunate byproduct of my current state of mind. I simply didn't have time for other people's problems when my dad and, more recently, Coach Fredricks were making me question going back to something I had sworn off just months ago.

It started with the talk I had with my folks, but only continued when Fredricks called off gym class to figure out who the prankster among us was. Apparently someone had been phoning his house since Tuesday night and kept giving him trouble with prank calls.

I looked at the script I was supposed to read aloud as I sat in front of his desk.

"Fredricks, you're a turd! A stinky, fat turd! Go sniff a jockstrap, you poop-head."

That was about as far as I made it before I nearly went mad with laughter and I fully understood why the class bully, Alan White, couldn't control himself when reading the same article when he went in before me. Coach was not in the mood to be laughed at, but I just couldn't help it.

"Coach, you know me," I finally defended, stuttering my amusement. "I wouldn't- this isn't my style."

He sighed and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know, but I didn't want it to look like favoritism or anything."

"So... can I go now?"

"Um, no, actually." He cleared his throat and looked at me like he meant business. "Your father called me. He's, uh, he's worried about you."

"Aw, jeez," I dropped my head backwards dramatically. "The football thing again? Not you too."

"Come on, Donovan, he's just looking out for your future and so am I. You're good at football, you really are, and that alone can get you into a good college where you can get an education that will prepare you for life outside of the sport if you really don't like it. Can your new friends offer you that? I don't think so. Look, I know what happened with Tommy Addler shook you up a bit and I don't blame you for wanting to take a break... but don't walk away from this kind of opportunity. Come back. Come back to us next year and I will sing you endless praises and make sure you are seen by so many scouts that colleges will be knocking down your front door to personally hand you a scholarship."

If there was only one thing I could commend Coach Fredricks on it would be the dedication to not just his job, but the kids under his guidance. Sometimes we would get lost, one way or another, and he always did his damnedest to put us back on the right track.

The worst part of his whole speech was the fact that he had a point. Nothing against my friends, but they simply couldn't open doors for me like sports would. Barring some sort of radical brain transplant, there was no way I would get recognized for my intellect and grades the way Lindsay did, either. While my GPA had actually improved under my own will since dropping football and financial aid was provided to a B average student like myself, the chances of getting my name picked out of a hat with thousands of others were rather slim and, without the help of a scholarship or two, there was no way my parents could afford anything more than community college tuition.

Responsibility blows.