I gathered up my trash, still whispering to Lori, and then stood up sort of abruptly. Kenny looked startled, and Guthrie questioning.
"I'll see you later," I told Kenny, and then I threw away my trash and left the table with Lori.
"She doesn't eat in the cafeteria, I don't think," Lori told me, as I paused to peer thru the cafeteria doors. It was a chaotic mess in there.
"No, I'm just checking," I said. I didn't see Kristen anywhere in there, so Lori and I split up to search the two girl's bathrooms. When we met
up again, it was still not having found Kristen.
"It's almost time for the bell to ring," Lori said.
"Yeah," I said, pausing in the hallway to gather my thoughts.
"I can't get a tardy or anything," Lori said. "If I do, my dad will tell my mom not to let me have my sleepover."
"Yeah. I can't get a tardy, either," I said.
"Maybe you can find her after school," Lori suggested. "Or go by her house."
"We're not supposed to go over there. Guthrie and me," I said.
We were still standing there talking, as other kids began to swarm around us. Coming from the cafeteria and from outside. It was
just before the bell rang, signaling everybody back to class, that I saw Kristen. She was coming from the library, and she paused to throw something
away in the hallway trash can.
"There she is," I told Lori. "I'll see you later."
Lori said goodbye and dashed off to class. I began to weave my way thru all the kids towards Kristen. I managed to reach her before she'd
gotten far.
"Hey," I said, reaching out to tap her elbow. "I've been looking for you-"
Kristen turned to look at me, and I caught my breath in shock. There was the unmistakable imprint of a hand on her face. Her right
cheek. I mean it was bright red, and you could even see the finger imprints...
"Dammit, Kristen," I breathed. "What happened?"
It was kind of a dumb question. I mean, it was obvious what happened, but what I meant was who and why?
"I don't want to talk about it," Kristen said, and started off down the hall. Towards her locker, I thought. I kept up with her, even
though my next class was in the other direction.
"Okay," I said, but I stayed beside her when she opened her locker, and began sifting thru her books.
I waited to see if she would say anything more, but she didn't. She closed her locker, and stood, looking at me.
One of the teachers walked by. "Girls, get to your next class," she said.
Kristen started walking and I did, too, but I reached out to touch her arm.
"Kris-" I said, really softly. "Talk to me."
Kristen stopped walking, and I did, too. She turned to me, with a large sigh.
"Just leave it, Harlie. Okay?"
"Is it Frank? Does your mom know?" I persisted. By now the hallway was nearly empty.
"I said to leave it," Kristen said, again.
"You could talk to Mrs. Malone," I said, mentioning the name of our school counselor.
"I already have. They made me."
"Who made you?" I asked.
"First period teacher."
"Oh." We stood, just looking at each other. I assumed the first period teacher had thought, after seeing the print on Kristen's face,
that she might need help. Advice. Something.
"Did she help you?" I asked.
"No. I didn't talk. I mean-I didn't say much."
"Maybe she can help you-"
"Really, Harlie?" Kristen asked, sounding angry. "You think she can help me?"
"Well, they're gonna try to find out, Kris-"
"There's nothing to find out," Kristen said. Suddenly she looked old. I mean old and tired.
"I'm just going to leave," Kristen said. "I can't face any more of this crap today."
"Don't do that," I said. "It won't solve anything if you cut school-"
"It will help me right now, and that's what I care about," Kristen said.
"Come to our house," I said. "Stay at school for the rest of the day, and then come home with us."
"No, thanks," Kristen said. "I don't think that's a very good idea."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because-this is my problem, and because-I've depended on your family long enough-and because of Guthrie."
"Aw, don't feel that way," I protested. "Guthrie cares about you-he told me so. And-the family love you. It's like your second
home-"
"Well, I need to wean myself away from all of the McFaddens," Kristen said, and then caught her breath.
"Don't say that," I pleaded, feeling nearly as shattered as Kristen looked.
"Well-" Kristen hesitated. "I still think I'll leave."
"How will you get home?" I asked. There's no way Kristen could walk from Angels Camp to Murphys.
"I'll come back when school's almost over and get on the bus. Nobody will notice."
I had my doubts about that, but she seemed determined to cut school.
"Come with me," she said, then. "I've got enough money we can get a Coke or something while we're walking around."
"I can't cut school," I said.
"Okay," she said. "I'll see you later then."
She looked so down. So dejected. So-hurt, with that big red hand print on her face. For a moment, and only a moment, I actually
did consider it. Leaving school with her for the rest of the day. Then I remembered. I remembered the time that Brian had found out
I'd cut school-just the thought of what he'd done made me shiver.
Now Mr. Best was walking towards us. He wasn't smiling, either.
"You girls are late for class," he said, in a tone that Harlie would have, if it had been one of her brothers, put at an 8 on a 10 scale of irritation.
"Go to the office and get a tardy slip. Both of you. Now," he said, sounding severe.
Kristen didn't bother to answer at all, but just looked at Mr. Best as though he was speaking a foreign language.
I, however, said, "Yes, sir," to him. I waited for Kristen to start walking with me, towards the office, and she did, but only
until Mr. Best had gone the way of another hallway, and then she stopped.
"I'll see you later," she said. "Sure you won't come with?"
"No," I said. "I can't. Brian-" I hesitated. "You know," I said.
"Actually, no. Nobody will care if I miss a whole slew of school days, Harlie. But, I get it that you can't."
"We'll wait for you after school," I said, then. "Me and Guthrie. Maybe we can go to the Dari Kurl and then we can give you a ride
home."
"Oh, sure, Guthrie would love that," Kristen said, but I thought it seemed as though she looked halfway as though she would want to.
"Kris, come on," I coaxed. "Guthrie will be cool."
"I'll think about it," she said, and then she turned on her heel and I watched as she walked down the hall and out the door of the school,
bold as you please.
7
I got my tardy pass, and tried to focus the remainder of the day, but it was tough. I saw Guthrie in the hallway between change of
classes in the late afternoon, and pulled him to a stop, and tried to hurriedly tell him what was going on. There was so much noise, though,
that it was hard to make myself understood. I think all Guthrie got out of it was that Kristen was, once again, having a crisis of some sort.
At his truck after school, I perched on the hood, keeping an eye in all directions for Kristen to reappear. The buses were already lining up. I knew
that she hadn't gotten on a bus, though, because I'd already been outside when they pulled up, and Kristen hadn't gotten on any.
Guthrie came ambling out, horsing around with Trent, pushing and shoving.
Trent stood for a few minutes, talking to both of us. Still no sign of Kristen. Thinking that I could soften Guthrie's resistance
by having Trent along had me saying, "Trent, we're going to the Dari Kurl. You should meet us over there."
Guthrie gave me sort of a surprised look. We hadn't discussed any such a thing. And we both had stuff to get home for.
"Yeah?" Trent said. "I guess I can for a while. I'll see you all there, then." He got in his own truck and drove away.
"We don't have time to be hangin' around the Dari Kurl," Guthrie said. "And besides, you're not supposed to be, are ya? Bein' grounded
and all."
"If I'm with you, I'm sure it's fine if we stop for a couple of minutes," I said, breezily. "You can tell them that you wanted to buy me a chocolate
malt."
"I don't wanna buy you a chocolate malt, though," Guthrie said.
"Rude," I tossed back at him.
"What's goin' on?" he said, pinning me in place with his eyes. "Really?"
"It's Kristen," I admitted. "Like I was telling you in the hallway earlier-"
"I couldn't hear anything you were sayin'."
"Yeah. I know. Well, she's supposed to be here, and we'll go to the Dari Kurl for awhile, and then we'll take her home."
"Why?" he asked.
"Why? Guthrie James," I said, glaring at him.
"I don't feel like dealin' with any of that stuff today, Har," he said, and promptly got into the truck, and slamming his door. "Get off the hood,"
he said, out his open driver's window.
"I have to sit here," I told him, turning around to peer thru the windshield at him.
"Huh?" he said, loud.
I sighed, and got down from the truck hood, to come and stand at his window. "I have to sit up there so I can make sure I see
Kristen when she comes back."
"Comes back from where?" Guthrie asked, looking confused.
"She left earlier," I told him.
"She cut?" Guthrie demanded.
"Yes, she cut. Guthrie, when you see her, try not to act shocked or anything."
"About what?"
"About her face. She's got a hand print on her cheek."
Guthrie stared at me. "No way," he said.
"Yeah."
"Who did it?" he asked, sounding on the edge of anger.
"I don't know. She wouldn't say. But probably Frank, right?"
"Likely. Bastard," he said.
"I'm worried about her, Guthrie. Please. Can't we take her home?" I said.
"I guess so," he said, sounding reluctant. "If she gets here soon."
I said okay and went back to the front of the truck, watching for Kristen to come walking from some direction. But, she didn't.
And, the buses began pulling out. And then mostly the only vehicles left were from the kids doing sports, and teacher's cars.
Guthrie had stepped out of the truck, and was standing beside his open door.
"She's not comin', Har. Let's go," he said.
"Let's wait another ten minutes or so," I said.
"No," he said, catching me by surprise. "Let's head home."
"Why?" I asked, coming to look up at him. Guthrie was, by now, a good four inches taller than I was.
"Because. We need to get home."
"How's she gonna get home, though?" I pointed out.
"She probably already got a ride home," Guthrie said. "She probably used the pay phone and called her mom up or somethin'."
I wrinkled my forehead, feeling a nagging concern for Kristen. "What if she didn't?"
"It's her thing, Har. She knows how to take care of herself."
I stared at Guthrie. "I don't even recognize you right now," I said. "You act as though-you never cared about her at all!"
Guthrie blew out an impatient breath. "Of course I did. I still do. But, it's not gonna help anything for the both of us to get
in trouble. And she made the decision to leave school today. That's her responsibility."
He got into the truck again, and I huffed in frustration, but went around to the other side to slide into the cab of the truck.
7
We were halfway to Murphys before either of us spoke again.
"Why are you going this way?" I asked him, as he turned down a different street.
"Goin' to the Dari Kurl," Guthrie said.
"What for?" I demanded.
Guthrie gave me a 'what the heck' sort of a look. "Because-you said you wanted to go, and because you told Trent that we
were comin'."
"That was because of Kristen," I said. "Never mind now. Just go home."
"Good grief," Guthrie muttered. "Well, I'm goin' by anyway, cause I've got my mouth all set for a strawberry shake."
I rolled my eyes, but said nothing more, and Guthrie pulled into the Dari Kurl parking lot, next to Trent's truck. There was a group of
kids gathered around, all just talking.
"Come on," Guthrie said, stepping out.
"I don't see anybody I want to talk to," I said.
"Come on," he said, again. "I'll buy you a shake."
"Thought you didn't want to," I reminded him, but I got out.
Guthrie and I spent the next half hour or so talking to other kids, and then headed home. Guthrie had long finished his own shake, but I was
still nursing mine.
"I do care," Guthrie said, at one point, as we drove along.
I looked over at him and he said, "About Kristen. I do care."
I nodded in acceptance. I believed him.
"How hard does somebody have to slap you to leave an imprint like that, Guth?" I said. "I could even see the fingers."
"I dunno," he said.
"They've never slapped us like that," I said. "The guys."
"Nope."
"I mean-they've spanked us, though," I said. "It's not the same, though, do you think?"
"I don't think it's the same. And-we deserved most of our spankins'. I can't see Kristen doin' anything wrong enough to get
a slap like that."
I couldn't see that, either.
7