"Are you okay?" She had heard the question from a million different people, though none of them sounded overly concerned. It was usually asked with the raise of an eyebrow, and a slight elevation in the tone of voice. She would nod in response, and they would continue on their way, only to be followed by yet another person, with the same inquiry. She knew none of them cared. It was just common courtesy to ask if someone was all right when dark bags hung under their eyes and they couldn't seem to stay awake.
Of course, there were always those types of assumptions. The kind that were spread through whispers and ugly glares, the kind that made Amber want to punch the girls who were spreading them.
"She's probably spread out on her back all night, that's why she never gets any sleep." She heard the rumors, but pretended not to. She listened as the perfect pink lips of the other council girls spread the lies, and she tried not to let herself hate them. They had perfect lives, all of them. They had a father who was alive, and a mother who cared enough about them not to invite a stranger into the house to live with them. They had perfect rooms with flowered wallpaper and pink fuzzy slippers that they wore to the breakfast table, where their mothers would be waiting to fix them eggs and bacon just as they liked it. They didn't realize what it was to be a prisoner of your own home.
They didn't realize that she didn't get any sleep because she lay awake all night, thinking, worrying. Worrying that if somehow he managed to pick that skimpy lock on the door, he'd be inside of her room; inside of her sanctuary. She'd be completely at his will.
She had tried to avoid him since that encounter in the hallway a few days ago, after her shower, and she had, for the most part. As much as you can avoid someone who is living in your home. There were still moments of inevitability, though, when it came to seeing him. She eliminated as much of her day as she could, because the less she walked through her home, the less she saw him. She was skipping breakfast, ate lunch at school, and skipped dinner most days. She hadn't watched television in the living room since the day he'd arrived, and it had been equally as long since she'd had a full conversation with her mother.
"I'm okay," she finally let herself respond to one of the council members, though she wasn't completely sure which one. She was so tired that faces had begun to blur. She could barely dance on the show, and needed to reserve most of her energy for the long walk home. Once she got there, she could collapse onto her bed. But there would be no sleep, no matter how tired she was. No matter how much she needed it, she couldn't fall asleep. Her conscience would wake her abruptly, and her eyes would fall upon that doorknob. Sometimes, she even imagined she saw it turning, and her heart would begin to pound faster, and she would begin to sweat. She would start to whimper, and pull the covers closer to her. It was then that she closed her eyes, squeezed them shut, just like she had that day in the hallway. When she opened her eyes, everything was all right. That didn't help matters much, though. She was still terrified, too scared to sleep.
She let her feet drag through the show, and when the director said the words, they stopped. Everyone around her began to chatter excitedly with weekend plans, and Tammy approached her cautiously.
"Hi, Amber." She sounded tentative, and Amber gave her the best smile she could manage.
"Hi, Tammy."
She hesitated for a moment.
"Fender and I are going to the hop on Saturday night. You and Link are coming, right?" She looked suddenly hopeful.
Amber brushed hand over her forehead, pushing the golden curls from her face and panting softly. She looked toward Link, who was chatting casually with Fender. She and Link hadn't been speaking much lately. At all, in fact. They sat beside each other in history class each day, and she always felt his eyes upon her, but she never knew what to say. He would ask to come to her house, and she always said no. He didn't know about Chip, because she didn't want to spend what time she had away from him actually talking about him. She had always hoped that Link would ask her to his house, but she knew that Link was ashamed of the fact that his father drank. She wanted to tell him that it didn't matter to her; she'd rather be anywhere than her own house.
"Sure," Amber nodded easily, though she wasn't sure at all. It was easier than saying no.
"Great!" Tammy looked excited again, and pushed her head to the side suddenly. "You okay, Amber?"
She felt herself sighing, and let herself nod.
"I'm fine." She turned on her heels quickly, and let herself begin towards Link, who was now standing alone with his back toward her. She touched his shoulder and he jumped slightly, smiling when he saw her.
"Hey." He hesitated for a moment, and then pecked her cheek. "You okay?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the fact that she was horribly sick of that question.
"Yeah," she said the word softly, and he grinned at her. She missed that smile. She missed holding his hand at the movies, and suddenly wished that she'd treated him a little better through the years. Wished that she hadn't always been so bossy with him, wished that she hadn't always proclaimed him as her property. It would be nice to have someone to open up to right about now. "Listen, Tammy and Fender are going to the hop on Saturday. Do you wanna go? You know, like the four of us, together?"
He hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.
"Sure, sounds good. I'll pick you up at eight?" His blue eyes looked away from her quickly, "Hey, I gotta talk to Brad about something. Excuse me?"
She nodded, and he disappeared into the crowd. She hugged herself, knowing that it was that time again. It was time to begin the long journey home. She took her time shuffling around the studio, grabbing her school things and delaying cleaning the area around her backstage vanity mirror. She had learned to tell time by the sounds around her, and when she heard the school bus shudder and then rumble away, she knew it was safe to leave. She shoved a few make-up brushes into the drawer of the vanity and picked up her books, turning to go. She looked up at the man standing before her, his blue eyes full of concern.
"Amber." His voice was so soft, so warm that it sounded like a lullaby. It made her want to close her eyes, and drift off to sleep, and that wouldn't be hard with how tired she was at the moment.
"Hi, Corny." She didn't let her eyes meet his. If he got a good look at her face, he would know something was wrong. He would start to ask questions; questions she couldn't tell him the answer to. This man was the last person on earth that she would open up to. He was so smooth, so charming. Corny Collins didn't listen to the personal problems of seventeen-year-old girls.
"I noticed you've been having a little trouble lately," she realized that his tie was undone, and the collar of his shirt was unbuttoned, and suddenly had trouble breathing. She felt her cheeks blush dark pink, and turned her face away from him. "I was wondering if everything is all right."
She suddenly felt guilty about lying to him. This was his show, after all. Still, she couldn't bring herself to tell him she wasn't sleeping at night because she was afraid her mother's boyfriend would break into her room.
"I haven't been sleeping very well," it was true, just not the entire truth.
"Is something going on at home?" He suddenly sounded like a guidance counselor, and she realized how easy it would be to tell him everything. But, then, what was she even going to tell him? That Velma, who was his boss, had brought a man into their house and he looked at her strange? He had never touched her, he'd never even threatened her directly. There was nothing to tell.
"Not really," she said the words, and a yawn managed to escape before she had time to cover her mouth. She glanced foolishly up at him, and decided to repeat her words. "I just haven't been sleeping well."
She could see that he was trying to press back a smile.
"I kind of figured that; you missed the bus about ten minutes ago."
She nodded, unable to look at him. He obviously didn't realize she'd been "missing the bus" for over two weeks now. She assumed that he also hadn't noticed that she'd lost seven pounds due to the decrease in her appetite and the increase in daily exercise.
She suddenly realized he was pulling his suit jacket on as he watched her.
"Well, I'm leaving; I'll give you a ride home." He watched her for a moment, and she caught her breath in her throat. She wanted to say yes; of course she did. She was exhausted, her feet hurt, there was a pain in the small of her back that she couldn't rub away. Still, she shook her head.
"No, it's okay. I really don't mind walking."
He fell back on his heels, giving her the familiar eyebrow raise.
"It's raining, Amber."
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she made a noise in the back of her throat.
"That's okay, I have an umbrella." She didn't have an umbrella. She didn't even have a coat. Her dress, her books, her homework, everything would be ruined by the rain. That was just a chance she would have to take.
He watched her strangely for a moment, and then nodded, smiling tightly at her.
"Right. Well, see you tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Amber."
"Goodnight," was all she could muster, though there was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to beg for a ride, but not to her home; wanted to go anywhere else but home.
She started out of the studio and quickly realized that Corny was right; it was raining, and hard. She managed to find an old sheet of newspaper and held it over her with one hand, clutching her books with the other. She began the long trudge to her house, her feet inadvertently stepping in puddles that splashed up on her legs, and her silky dress. She suddenly felt like Cinderella in the ratted, torn dress she wore before she was transformed into the beautiful princess.
She felt tears beginning to burn her eyes, and didn't even bother to push them back. It was pouring. No one would be able to tell the difference between her tears and the rain. Not that anyone would care enough to try.
She walked for a few more minutes, and then felt a car pulling up beside her. Her heart began to skip beats, and she tried to walk faster, but she was so exhausted that she thought about just collapsing. She began to worry it was Chip, and then suddenly realized how paranoid she had become. Moving the paper carefully from her line of vision, she glanced at the car, which had slowed to a stop beside her.
She recognized Corny's face instantly, and he rolled the car window down just enough for her to hear him.
"You lied." The corners of his mouth were turned into a frown.
"Excuse me?" She sputtered the words, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands and recognizing the black smudge of her mascara.
"You don't have an umbrella." She had stopped walking, and looked at him stupidly, not really sure of what to say next. He cocked his head to the side. "Get in, Amber. I'm taking you home."
Home? The word was foreign to her. She had no home. No one there wanted her, no one there cared. But suddenly, it seemed that Corny did, and his car was warm and dry.
At least she could enjoy the ride there. Meanwhile, she would try not to think about entering the seventh circle of hell after climbing those porch steps.