Chapter Fifty-Nine

I cringed when I walked down the hallway and saw who was at their locker and who was not. John looked at me, looked away and looked again, nodding slightly in recognition. As I approached, Tess walked up and he took her books from her and dropped his gaze to meet her eyes, obviously asking her something about her condition.

I quickly exited the hallway the way I'd come, dodging students, most of which acknowledged me.

"Hey, Cal!"

I came face to face with my little sister. She rotated around, we linked arms and continued to walk.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Mom told me to tell you that Jenny says she won't come home," she said quietly.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," I lamented.

"I know, I'm sorry. I was just so torn-you were so in love, and Jen told me not to say. Why don't you ever come home anymore?" she asked suddenly.

"I was home last week," I reminded her.

"You used to live at home. I used to see you every day, all day long, now I only see you once a week," she complained.

"I'm married Lala. It has to be like this," I said, glancing up at her face.

"No it doesn't. You don't have to be married anymore."

You don't have to be married anymore.

You don't have to be married anymore.

I didn't have to be married anymore.

Sawyer and I had taken two cars to school, so by the time I got home he was already there, working on his algebra homework on the kitchen table. I hopped up onto the table beside his notebook and crossed my legs.

"I kissed John Fenning," I said. The words seemed to take a long, long time to register. When they finally did, he looked up and stared.

"What?"

"And I see Mark almost every day on the boardwalk when I'm running, and sometimes he gives me rides on his skateboard," I continued.

"Why the hell did you kiss John?" he asked.

"I was proving a point. I'm going to change," I said breezily. I stood up to walk away, but he caught my arm in a grasp I couldn't shake off before I could leave the kitchen.

"Why are you telling me this?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" I asked innocently.

"You obviously don't want me to know, if you did you'd have told me before. So why are you telling me?" he asked. He put his other hand on my forearm.

"Isn't that what a marriage is about?" I taunted. He dropped his face until it was only inches away from mine, our lips almost touching.

"We've gone through this Callie. The marriage was for the best," he said.

"Yeah, when I was pregnant!" I shot back.

"And now. How many more times are we going to do this?" he asked.

"Until you see reason without seducing me," I said stiffly. I pulled my face away from his.

"Seems like it will be a while," he responded.

"Go to hell," I yelled as I ran from the room.

I hesitated as I stood in the entrance hall, half expecting him to come after me. When he didn't, I turned right, exiting the house.

My mind wandered as I directed my car toward downtown. My hands automatically took control and I quickly found myself pulling into the parking lot of the bar that most of the teenagers that I knew frequented at least weekly.

I pushed the door open and headed straight for the bar and flashed my fake ID before ordering a drink and flopping down onto a leather upholstered chair.

My attention was caught on a familiar dark blonde head along the wall of the bar.

"Mark?" I called out experimentally.

"Callie," he said, turning to recognize me. He sauntered over and sat in the chair beside me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Shooting pool," he said. "You?"

"Sulking. Why is no one here?" I asked. I looked around and noticed that I recognized almost no one.

"Oh, party at Warren Foster's house. Why aren't you there?" he asked.

"It happens when you get married. Why aren't you there?" I asked. He laughed.

"I'm the new guy," he reminded me.

"Right. Oh, I'll take you, make you popular by association," I suggested.

"You sure?"

"Positive. Come on," I said, draining my drink before grabbing his hand and running from the bar.

Everyone at the party looked surprised when I arrived without Sawyer, but they quickly began accepted me as I led Mark to the dance floor and began to dance to a fast song.

The alcohol was getting to my head. It pounded as I moved easily in time to the movement, my years of cheerleading taking control of my body. As Mark began to move closer to me and we danced, almost touching, I normally would have taken action or at least offence, but under the influence I only wanted to have fun.

Eventually the room began to blur. The voices, as well as my own, became stretched and irregular. My energy began to flag. My dexterity waned.

"Cal?" came a voice from a long, long way away. A face came into view. Sawyer's. My oldest, bestest friend.

"Sawyer," I said.

"Oh God. Come on, we're going home," he said, putting an arm on my shoulder. That was wrong. Why wasn't he allowed to touch my shoulder? I'd forgotten.

"No, I want to stay," I said.

"We have to go. Come here," he said. He caught me as I started to fall and ignored my slight resisting as he took me into his arms and held me tightly. The room began to shake as he walked across it, still holding me tightly.

Hours later I awoke in my own bed, the covers up to my chin, dressed only in my underwear. I patted the space beside me-it was very empty.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed as the events of the night came back to me. Mark. The dancing. Sawyer. My resisting. How that would look to everyone else.

I padded silently downstairs, searching on the wall for the light switch to get a drink of water. As it swished down my throat I felt an acid taste coming on, as though I was about to be sick.

I found a note on the counter-I've gone to get Advil. I'll be back soon, sorry if I woke you.

The front lawn beckoned to me, and I walked out the door to sit on the grass. I ran my fingers through it, feeling the freshly cutness and remembering all the times I'd run barefoot on it before I'd actually lived here.

A car drove up to the house, interrupting the interminable stillness of the night. I squinted as I realized it wasn't Sawyer and it wasn't his car.

A foot appeared, then a long, slim leg of a woman. Jenny Jagielski slowly eased herself out of her red convertible, adjusting her shirt as she did. She looked up at the house and then down at me, in surprise. I stood slowly and went to greet her on the curb.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked coldly.

"I came to talk," she whispered.

"Lauren said Mom convinced you not to," I said.

"For about a minute. I'm so sorry," she said.

"It doesn't matter. We won't be together much longer anyway," I said coolly.

"What, because of this?" she asked, her eyes bugging.

"Aren't you awfully self centred? No, because I'm seventeen and not pregnant," I said.

"You're not?"

"No. Fluke. Why are you still here?" I asked.

"I need you to forgive me! You're my best friend!" she said desperately. She put her hand on my arm, but I shook her off. She stumbled slightly and fell off the curb, landing on her hard on the dark road.

We noticed the lights at the same time the driver of the car noticed us. I met his eyes a moment before he noticed the contorted shape of his sister-in-law, moments after her fall, half sitting up. His desperate honk sounded, but it came far too late.

She called out to stop as I made to leap out of the curb, already far too late as the car came to a screeching halt. It backed up and the dark form of my husband leapt.

I sank down into the cold dark road and put her head on my lap, meeting her eyes for a sliver of a second before her gaze slid to Sawyer and he took in her bloody face.

"I love you," she said simply, still staring at him as she slid from consciousness.

"Callie… Jenny?" he said in confusion. He knelt beside me, and our eyes met in the darkness, our pupils wide and staring.

"You killed my sister, you bastard," was all I could say.

Author's note: I guess you must be tired of hearing it right now, but I'm so freaking busy. I'm now finished one of seven exams. Tomorrow is English, which isn't so hard as Latin, which was today's. Anyway, so this might be a cliffhanger.