A BEASTLY SUMMER

Chapter One

I should have gone to France. Instead, I behaved like a stupid lovestruck school girl and stayed to please him. I hate him. What was I thinking? That not going to France and not taking advantage of the opportunity of a lifetime would make me stronger? Yeah, right.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Without me to mess things up, my dad would probably still be at home tending to business at The Ice House—not on his way to a maximum security prison with hardened felons. Without me to mess things up, the family business would not be a hideous charred shell defacing Wilson's Landing. Without me to mess things up, Bessie wouldn't have to worry about how she's gonna buy groceries and have yet another reason to hate me.

I've been hiding out in the bathroom for the better part of three days, terrified of facing her, too afraid to see what's in her eyes. Occasionally, she pounds the door and asks if I'm still alive in here, and I just turn on the shower or something. Then I sit in the tub and cry my eyes out.

I'm so stupid. Maybe it was naïve to trust my dad so completely, but it seemed the right thing to do to bring him back into the family. And he had changed, he showed us that. He was just scared…and weak.

Not like Dawson. The boy I loved. The boy I thought I could trust with anything. I let him back into my life and in less than two months he destroyed everything. So intent on being the hero and doing the "right thing", never seeing the bigger picture and that there were alternatives.

He went to the police and set me up; he set us up. How could I let him manipulate me into betraying my father, right or wrong? I hate him. I don't think I've ever hated anyone as much as I hate him right now.

And now I'm crying again. Crying and shaking. My clothes are soaked through and I've barely eaten in days—only what I could manage to swallow the few times I've heard Bessie leave the house. She took Alex over to Bodi's family's house and obviously has been using the facilities there, because she doesn't come in here.

Oh God, I forgot about Bodi. Does he hate me, too? I've betrayed them all and I'm heartsick. Bodi's like an older brother to me: kind, protective, always ready to give advice. What if he never talks to me again? What if no one talks to me again?

I can't stand this. The guilt is eating me up.

My stomach still has adhesive markings from the tape that secured the recorder that would incriminate my father. I've rubbed it raw and it's still there. It's become part of my punishment, a Scarlet Letter burned into my belly for all to see, a fleshly reminder of my betrayal.

I am all alone in this.

I should just disappear. Catch a bus and go to New York or some place. Any place where people won't recognize me. Any place where people won't look at me with curious expressions while whispering furtively to companions behind half-covered mouths. Any place where I don't matter.

If I hear Bessie and the truck again, I am going to grab my backpack and some supplies and get out of here. I don't need much… Just… some… sleep…

zzzzzzzzzz

It's nighttime and dead quiet in the house. How long has she been gone? Long enough, I think, for me to scurry outside and grab some clothes. The lights are off. I'll just leave the light on here in the bathroom while I gather my belongings. I grab a box of crackers and a Diet Coke. She won't mind; she'll be relieved to be rid of me. Maybe I should leave a note…

"Joey?"

Shit. Where did she come from? Do I have enough time to retreat to the bathroom? But Bessie's too smart, she's blocked my way. She stands as a silhouette in the doorway, I can't make out her face.

"Please, Bess. I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone. I just wanted…" I can't control my tears. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head for the front door. "I'm so sorry."

"Joey, don't!" she screams. "Stop!"

Is she that mad that she has to have this confrontation three days later in the middle of a muggy summer night? I turn to face her. "Where do you think you're going?" she says as she runs toward me. I still can't gauge her voice but recoil in response, expecting the worst. A good throttling, a slap.

But she opens up her arms and draws me into a big embrace, tightening her arms around me like she's holding on for dear life. And I think both of us are. We certainly are both crying and sobbing like pathetic little girls.

"I didn't know what to do," she says. "I thought you were never coming out of there."

"I'm so ashamed…so ashamed," I blubber.

"It's not your fault, Joey." I stop whimpering for a moment. "What Dad did was not your fault. You were right all along. He wasn't ready to jump back into the family business and prove everyone wrong. He needed time. You were stronger and smarter than all of us; he was the weak one."

"But…"

"No. I will not allow you to blame yourself for this, Joey. Dad's failings are his own. You are not responsible."

"But the Ice House is gone, Bess," I say, feeling the tears starting to flow again. My head is throbbing. My cheeks are stained, my nose is swollen, and my eyes so red and puffy I can barely see out of them. "What are we going to do now?"

I sink to the floor and Bessie follows me. I can see a concerned look on her face when she looks into my bloodshot eyes. She takes a Kleenex from her pocket and begins dabbing my face. "Right now, I am putting you to bed. And tomorrow after you've eaten everything I put in front of you, young lady…then and only then will we talk about the future."

She pulls me up from the hard wooden floor and starts leading me back to the bedroom. "But we're not going to talk about this anymore tonight."

Bessie gives me a pair of pajamas and I go back into the bathroom to wash my face and change. I catch my reflection in the mirror and don't even recognize the ugly girl I see. "Oh God," I say softly. "What?" Bessie asks as she clears the bed. "Nothing." She pops her head inside the door. "It sure will be nice to get this bathroom back," she grins good-naturedly. I managed a feeble smile. How can she be so bright?

When I come out, I notice that instead of pulling out my sofa bed, she has put my pillows on her bed. "Alex is with a babysitter tonight. Do you mind sharing my bed?" she says. I nod and slip between the covers, terrified that she'll see how scared and confused I still am. Bessie lies down next to me and wraps me in her arms.

"I love you, Jo," she says, brushing my hair back from my face. "Don't worry. We'll work this out."

zzzzzzzzzz

The next morning I wake up to the tune of Alex giggling in the kitchen and bacon frying in the skillet. I get up, put on my bunny slippers and tredge my way to the bathroom, which now has new towels, soap and washcloths. But what I need more than anything is a good ol' tube of Crest and at least ten minutes with a new toothbrush—I destroyed mine trying to scrub off the last remnants of tape. Bessie shows up with exactly what I need.

"Oh, you're up!" she says. "I was going to let you sleep in for another hour. I've got some news for you. Lots of news, actually." "What?" "Come on into the kitchen. No news will be imparted without a significant amount of breakfast being consumed." It doesn't take much coaxing. I have to admit I'm hungry. I down two glasses of orange juice, some coffee, two fried eggs, five pancakes and a half dozen pieces of bacon without even thinking. Gulp. Thank God she didn't make French Toast.

"Do you want to hear about Dad?" Bessie asks somewhat cautiously. "Okay," I mutter, convinced it can only be bad news. "They've offered him a deal. He is going to provide state's evidence and they are going to reduce the charge. Even though he's a two-time offender he'll be able to go to a minimum security prison. We don't know where yet." "Oh."

"Bodi found that out for us. I still haven't been able to face Dad." I look at Bess. I was sure she'd be the one trying to bail him out, but she's not. "I keep thinking what could have happened to you that night. I mean, you risked your own life to go in and try to get him out of there. What if Alex and I had been there as well? I can't even think about it, Joey," she says, putting her hand on mine. "I could have lost you!" Her eyes are brimming with tears.

"It's okay, Bess," I try to reassure her. "We're all okay." "My little sister…I'm so humiliated, I should have been taking care of you." Now it's my turn to get up and give her a hug. We stay like that until I have to let go in order to breathe again.

She changes the subject. "I talked to Principal Markey the other day when I knew you were in no condition to finish your finals." Finals. I had forgotten about them. "She is going to let you take them next week, if you think you're ready." "Yeah, thanks. I'll call them."

So I missed out on officially moving up a grade with the rest of Capeside High. All for the best, I guess. At least I didn't have to see HIM again. Or any of my friends right now; I don't think I could bear to look any of them in the eye.

"I spoke with the insurance company and there's been some hang-up with the check. So it's going to be a little tight until we can get some money flowing in again, but most of our creditors have been very patient. Bodi's looking for work in Boston. Thank God we own this house outright."

"Thank Mom," I add. "She's the one who paid off the mortgage." I try to keep the bitterness from seeping in because I remember how many grueling hours Mom worked at that crummy bar to make that possible. In the end, when she could no longer work, and Dad was tied up in his illegal—and illicit—adventures, it was her insurance policy that took care of the rest.

"Don't worry, Bess. I am going to start looking for a job right away." Anything that will keep me away from the people and places I don't need to see. Maybe something down at the marina.

zzzzzzzzzz

I didn't realize how angry I would get just walking down that school hall. Past his locker and mine…past the cafeteria where we often had our morning tête-à-têtes…past the library where I first kissed him…and into the schoolroom where we had two of our biggest fights. I am boiling mad now.

My mood isn't helped by our current situation. It turns out the insurance company has decided to sit on that check while they investigate who really was responsible for the fire. Things began to look so desperate that last weekend, without our knowing it, a collection was actually taken at church to help out "the poor Potter sisters". I don't want their hand-outs, and I certainly don't want their pity.

Damn him! I should have gone to France. He's fled to Philadelphia, I hear. I don't care. The further away, the better. I hope I never see him again.

I sit down in a chair in the back corner of the room waiting for Mrs. Tringle to bring forth the first exam. I hope it's English first because I'm too mad to see my way clear through History, the exam we were studying for the night of the fire.

But History, it is.

zzzzzzzzzz

Was that Pacey I saw just looking through the window? I think it was. How did he know I was here? It's 2:00 and I'm nearly finished with my second exam. I wrote like a demon on those History essay questions—not diatribes exactly but definitely an angry slant on Charlemagne, the Magna Carta, and all the tortuous events of that era. Good thing they didn't ask me my take on Henry VIII.

I hand my completed test and stub of a pencil into Mrs. Tringle. "Congratulations, Josephine," she says. "You'll be getting your grades shortly, but I think we all know we'll be seeing you on the junior honors roll next Fall." "Thanks," I say, managing something resembling a smile.

I've decided to walk down to the marina to see what jobs are still available. The summer is always a busy time on the docks, with pleasure as well as fishing craft coming and going I'm sure I'll be able to find something too lowly for the perennial high school brats to consider.

I grab a hot dog and soda from a vendor's cart and—there!—I think I see Pacey again, casually strolling by the fountain. Screw him. I don't need to play this cat and mouse game. I think I'll try the bait & tackle shop first.

zzzzzzzzzz

"Bess, do you know Rob Logan, the senator's son?" "He runs Logan's Marina, doesn't he? The supply store?" "My new place of employment." Bessie puts Alex in his crib and comes right back. "Good for you, Joey. We could sure use the money right now." "Yeah, well. The guy is a cretin but I think I can handle him. Not to mention the pay is decent and he's promised to give me as many hours as I want. I don't have to look for a second job."

"I'll make it up to you, Joey. I promise." "No speech necessary, Bess. This is my contribution to our home. I may even be able to keep the job well into the Fall—save up something for later." "I don't want you to overdo it, Jo. Remember to schedule some time for your friends."

"What friends?" I retort. "Have I missed something? I don't remember anyone coming by these last two weeks." "I think they're waiting for you, Jo. You kind of scared them off." "How? When?" "Well, thanks to our boys in blue everyone pretty much heard about what happened…including your speech to Dawson." "What do you mean?" "Your mic was still on."

Great. Just great. So the Keystone Kops were "supervising" (and I must put that in quotations) the audio transcript of my shameful day of betrayal and recrimination. Did they make copies and send it into Channel 7 News? I bet someone gave Gale Leery a copy too—another chance to validate her hero son who's suffered the slings and arrows I've unfairly directed at him. Well, now they're both in Philadelphia so I won't have to bear that particular judgment.

Why couldn't he leave well enough alone? Why did he feel it necessary to risk our fragile relationship? I loved him.