Manipulated Page 4

  I knocked on the open door, but didn't see him in her office either. "Sorry, I was just looking for my dad. He's taking me to a doctor's appointment."

  She looked sad and nervous, which was odd because she was always a really confident woman. "Risa, he called me a half hour ago and said he's really sorry, but—"

  I didn't hear the rest, and yet I'd heard it so many times that I knew exactly what she'd said anyway. He got caught up at work and couldn't leave. Been there, heard that. I nodded and hobbled back into the hallway.

  "Risa, wait. If it's alright, I'd like to take you to your appointment."

  She was nice. She'd always been nice to me, not pushy or full of attempts to be my best pal, just there with a kind smile on her face. She was being nice now and had that weepy eyed, I'm-so-sorry look on her face. I hated that look.

  "No thanks, I can take the bus." I started moving toward Ms. Gunn's desk. She could help me figure out which buses to take to get to the doctor's office.

  "Let me at least drive you, Risa. It's an excellent excuse for me to get out of this meeting with the Allan family."

  I stared at her. I knew she was trying to get me to take her help, but I also knew what a nightmare the Allan family was. They'd been mean and pushy and threatened lawsuits against the school because their drug-dealing, class skipping, delinquent child got expelled. Everyone was on edge when a visit from the Allan family was expected. And getting on and off the bus with crutches was time consuming and annoying. "Okay," I said quietly. "You can give me a ride."

  "Good." She grabbed her purse, and we walked down the hall to Ms. Gunn's desk. "Risa's dad asked me to take her to her appointment. I'll be back in a few hours."

  I watched Ms. Gunn's expression move quickly from that damn pitying look to a narrow-eyed smile she pointed at Ms. Abbott. "You asked him if you could take her just so you could get out of the Allan meeting, didn't you?" Again, Ms. Gunn was there to help me save face.

  Ms. Abbott laughed. "Would you blame me?"

  "Not in the least," she said, shaking her head.

  The drive to the office was quiet, which was more than fine with me. Her car was clean and smelled faintly of peaches. She had a small silver cross in the corner of her rear-view mirror, and I realized I knew next to nothing about her. Was she religious? Would she try to make my dad religious? Wait, could he be religious, and I just didn't know it? I'd been living with him for two months though, and hadn't seen him go to church. He'd never asked me if I went to church, which I didn't. I had nothing against religion or anything; I just didn't like people telling me what to think and what to do and who was going to Hell. My internal faith inventory ended as we pulled into the parking lot.

  "I can come in with you, or I can wait out here. I'm fine with either one, Risa."

  Unbuckling my seatbelt, I shook my head. "I can go by myself, but I don't want you to have to wait in the car for me. I can take a cab home."

  "Don't be silly. I have some files to go through. I can sit here and do that while you're in at your appointment."

  I nodded slightly. "Okay."

  "I just—I don't want to pry Risa, but I know how much your father loves you. He has a really hard time showing it, but he—"

  "Ms. Abbott," I interrupted. I didn't need her to defend Dad. "He's been 'stuck at work' since before I can remember. I know he cares about me, or he wouldn't have let me come live with him, and that's enough for me. I don't need more."

  "You're a very strong young lady, but sometimes it's okay not to be. I know life hasn't dealt you the best of hands, but it'll get better if you let it."

  She knew about my life? I clenched my fists tight. "Did he tell you?"

  She stared at me silently. I could practically see her debating whether or not to admit to it. Finally she nodded. "Not everything, hardly anything, really. He called me the night you ran away. He said your stepfather was a selfish bastard who tried to take advantage of you. Only, he didn't say it quite so politely."

  I stared out the window, trying not to hit something. Yeah, that was the polite version alright. I didn't like remembering the reality of it, so of course, it plagued me often. That and the way my own mother took Bill's side—chose Bill over me.

  "That's all he said about it," Ms. Abbott continued. "And he hasn't spoken about it since. He's a private man. I think you take after him in that respect."

  I stared at the uneven bushes in front of me. I bet they paid good money for a landscaper, and they were getting uneven bushes. She thought I was "private." Funny thing was I'd never been shy or private until someone gave me something to have to be "private" about. Since that was the case, I could hardly say it was a long lost connection between me and dear ole dad.

  Ms. Abbott patted my hand. "I know you don't need anyone, but if you ever just sort of want someone around, you know I try not to push."

  I kept my gaze centered on the bushes—I just couldn't look at her. The fact that she knew I had no one, hurt my pride. Still, she was being nice, always nice. I had to say something to sort of acknowledge that. "Thank you," I said as I grabbed the door handle then climbed out of the car, hobbling my way in to the doctor's office.

  The appointment went fine, and when I got back in the car, Ms. Abbott was smiling at me. She pointed to the crutches in my hands. "How's it feel to carry them instead of them carrying you?"

  I allowed a very brief smile to cross my face. "Better than I thought."

  "Your dad said he wants to take you out for Chinese food to celebrate, but that he'll be home later than usual."

  Chinese food was standard fare for us, but I wasn't about to quibble. The fact that he even thought to celebrate my momentous occasion made me start to believe he might care. I nodded and thanked Ms. Abbott for the ride, happy to be walking like a semi-normal person into Dad's townhouse.

  Unfortunately, I couldn't beat the crap out of my brace since Dr. Olden felt it was a good idea to keep it around. I had to settle for shoving it as deep in my closet as I could. I really wanted to bury the stupid thing, but I didn't have much to bury it under. When I'd run away from Mom's, they refused to let me have my clothes or anything valuable. Dad had gone there and come back with everything sentimental, but that amounted to just two boxes. He said Bill had a police officer there to ensure he didn't take anything that wasn't rightfully mine. Ah, the bonds of family.

  So Dad took me to a superstore and sat in the little attached coffee shop getting high on caffeine while I hobbled around, buying the necessities. I now owned four pairs of jeans, a pair of black sweats, eight T-shirts in dark colors, two pairs of pajama bottoms, a pair of black Converse, and the necessary underwear and socks. Everything I owned fit into a duffel bag. So "burying" my brace was really more like hiding it on the shelf as far back as I could.

  When eight' o'clock rolled around that night, my optimism waned. He wasn't coming home. I should have known that. Work was always more important, had always been more important, and would always be more important. And really, I couldn't blame him. He hadn't spent any real time with me in ten years; did I really expect him to suddenly form a strong attachment to me after only two months? No—well, honestly… yes I did. It was stupid and naïve, but damn if I didn't really think he might come to love me and treat me like an actual daughter.

  My cell phone vibrated on the coffee table, but I already knew it would be a text message saying something like "Sorry, can't make it. Eat without me." When I picked it up and found that I was right on the money, a traitorous tear slid down my cheek. That's when I got mad. Why did I let him keep doing this to me? Why did I keep allowing myself to believe I meant anything more to him than a roommate? I stood up and paced the room. I wanted to throw something or hit something, but the last time I'd been really angry, I'd run away and tore up my knee in the process.

  I ran up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door hard. Hiding in a corner, I pulled my knees to my chest and willed myself not to cry. No one was around to hear the door slam. No o
ne was around to care if I was even there. So why was I? Maybe if I did something completely idiotic, he'd notice. Maybe if I cut myself or attempted suicide he'd notice. No. I was not that girl. Life sucked, I'd give in to that, but there was too much I hadn't experienced to chuck it all.

  I stared down at my arm where the faint remainder of "Use It" was still inked on my skin. Speaking of experiences I hadn't had. I'd never been to a serious party. Sure, we had parties at Los Gatos, but Mom never let me go. She always kept me pretty well under lock and key, thinking I would make her mistakes. She told me how she'd met Dad her senior year of high school and fell in love. He was 22 and just finishing college when he knocked her up with me. She never said she resented me for it, but I always knew she wished it had been different.

  I wasn't allowed to date or have a crush on a boy, even though I did have crushes. I went out with groups of friends so I could hang out with my first hidden boyfriend, but it didn't last long. I'd tried with two other guys, but the restrictions I had on my social life were too hard for them to deal with, and I wasn't that into them to push Mom on it.

  But Dad hadn't put any restrictions on me. Why would he? I was just his roomie. And that was fine with me. I was fine. I just needed to get out and experience life more.

  So I found myself experiencing texting Brodie's number.

  Hey, it's Risa.

  I stared at my phone for almost ten minutes, but he didn't respond. Finally, I got up and went downstairs to eat some leftover pizza. Maybe I should have mentioned I was in his Civics class or said it was "sunshine." Did he know me enough to respond?

  As I sat on the couch eating cold pizza and drinking Dr. Pepper from the bottle, my cell phone vibrated. Thinking it was Dad again, I just ignored it until three more text messages came in.

  Hey, sunshine.

  Did you change your mind about the party tomorrow night?

  You know what, that's too far away. What are you doing right now?

  I had to get up and pace the room. My body was full of nervous excitement. Right now? I was moping about my lack of a life. I wasn't gonna say that to him, though. Enjoying being crutch and brace free.

  Congrats. You allowed to walk much?

  He was interested in my rehabilitation? Odd. I can walk until it starts to hurt, why?

  Wanna go for a walk? I live just up the street from you.

  I pulled nervously at my bottom lip. Just up the street? Seriously? I didn't know you were that close.

  Yep. Four blocks north of you. Dark green condo. 2167 Lexington. I'd invite you over now, but I have a guest.

  My heart sank even though I expressly forbade it. He could have as many "guests" as he wanted. I had no claims on him. Just because he asked me out and flirted insanely with me didn't mean he wanted anything other than… my cherry. I felt sick to my stomach at that thought. But why did I care? It was an experience. I went to the front window and stared toward Lexington Drive. This was a bad idea. I shouldn't be getting to know him better. I didn't need someone else jerking me around.

  I tried to think of something flippant and sarcastic to say, but the burn in my stomach made me erase everything I started. I finally said "screw it," and just responded with what was on my mind. Won't your guest mind that you're ditching her?

  You're revealing yourself, sunshine. HE needs a place to crash is all. No big. Are your parents home?

  I just live with my dad. He's at work until who knows when.

  I'll be there in a few.

  "Oh God, oh God, oh God," I chanted to myself. What was I doing? What was I thinking? I ran upstairs and checked my face, put on more deodorant and some flowery lotion I thought smelled nice. Would he want to see my room? I glanced around to make sure it was neat. I didn't have much to make a mess with, so it was really a pointless concern. Downstairs, I looked around the kitchen and living room. Dad didn't have much, so that was pointless too. The knock on the door made me jump, and I hurried to open it.

  Brodie's back was to me as he stood on the small porch. He turned around slowly, that lopsided grin on his face. "Hey, sunshine." He put his hand out to me. "It's a nice night, come on." He nodded his head toward the sidewalk.

  I put my hand in his and tried to stay calm. Could he feel that my palms were sweaty? I tried not to think about the nervous tension he set off in me, but it was next to impossible.

  "So you just live with your dad?" he asked nonchalantly.

  "Yep."

  "Where's your mom?" He was still holding my hand and squeezed it when I didn't answer right away.

  Where's my mom? So yeah, questions like that were why I didn't make friends. They wanted answers I didn't want to give. I turned it around on him. "Do you live with your parents?"

  "Hmm, interesting. Sarcastic, stubborn, and evasive." He looked over at me as if seeing something for the first time. "And tiny. You're much smaller without your crutches. I didn't notice that before."

  "I'm not tiny. I'm average." Really, what was he comparing me to? 5'2 and 110 lbs was not "tiny."

  He stopped and pulled me to face him. He put his hands on my hips, squeezing just enough to make my breath catch in the back of my throat. His lop-sided grin told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me. "No, sweetheart, you're tiny."

  I stared up into his eyes—he was at least seven or eight inches taller than me—and I started to think that I'd seriously short-changed myself by going along with my mother's restrictions. His lips caught my attention every time I looked at him, and I couldn't help but stare at them as he pulled me closer to him. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, but I wasn't very experienced in kissing. Would he laugh at me? My cell phone vibrated in my back pocket, and I stepped away from him to pull it out.

  Where are you? Dad texted.

  Went for a walk. I replied and looked up at Brodie. "My dad's home."

  "You gotta go?"

  It was an easy out. I could say yes and run away. But I refused to live my life in fear of what might happen or what someone might think. I'd do what I wanted and deal with the rest later. "Nope."

  He smiled, showing his slightly crooked, but bright white teeth. "Good." He took my hand again and pulled me forward.

  We walked around the neighborhood talking about movies, sports, teachers at school—pretty much everything and anything for over an hour before I started to notice my knee feeling less happy about the exertion. I protested when Brodie insisted on giving me a piggy-back ride. I worried that he would hurt himself carrying me, but he kept saying I weighed nothing, and he wasn't the least bit winded as we talked on our way back to Dad's townhouse. I had to admit that his biceps were pretty huge, and I'd smacked his strong chest muscles several times over the past few days.

  A few townhouses from mine, he stopped and let me down. I was a little sad not to have my arms wrapped around him anymore, but it was good that I was getting away from him. It was far too easy to imagine being his girlfriend, which proved that my brain was taking a serious siesta if it let me get away with that whopper of an impossibility. Brodie was so not the boyfriend type.

  As I turned toward Dad's townhouse, Brodie grabbed my upper arm gently and pulled me toward him. I thought I could definitely get used to the way he threaded his fingers in the hair at the back of my neck and tugged me closer. He stared at my lips, and my heart kicked into massive overdrive when my damn phone vibrated in my back pocket. Unintentionally, I stumbled forward into him, and he wrapped his arm around my waist. I reached around and pulled out my phone. The brightness of the screen blinded me.

  It's late, you coming home soon?

  I stared down at it for a moment, surprised that he seemed to care.

  "I guess you should go, huh?" But he made no move to let go of me.

  I really wanted to press my cheek against his chest and wrap my arms around him, but I managed to nod and pull back.

  "Come to the party with me tomorrow night?" he asked softly.

  Walking around the neighborhood was one thing, but I was
really worried about going to a party with him, well going to a party at all.

  He grabbed my hand again. "Come on, it'll be fun." When I still didn't respond, he kissed the back of my hand. "Promise you'll think about it."

  Oh, I was quite sure I'd do nothing but think about it. I just wasn't sure enough to say yes. "I'll think about it," was all I could bring myself to agree to.

  He nodded slowly as he started walking backwards. "Think about saying yes, sunshine."

  I smiled and shook my head. "Good night, Brodie."

  "Sweet dreams, sunshine."

  As I walked inside, I held back the smile threatening to spill out of my chest and onto my face.

  Dad glanced at me. "Nice night, huh?"

  "Yep." I went directly for the stairs.

  I was already halfway up the stairs when he shouted, "How's the knee?"

  "Fine," was all I was willing to give him as I went to my room and shut the door. I wasn't interested in his attempts at conversation. If he wanted a roommate, I could act like one.

  Snap Out of It

  I let Saturday pass by without texting Brodie. I'd written several drafts where I took him up on the party invite, but I couldn't send them. It made me a chicken and a baby, but I'd convinced myself it was for the best. I'd never know if he was just hanging around me in the hopes I'd be another notch on his belt.

  Sunday was really as depressing as it could get, but the weather was nice, and I went for another walk, telling myself it had nothing to do with any sort of hope to run into Brody.

  On Monday, Brodie was his usual flirtatious self. He didn't mention the party or that I was too much of a baby to go. He tried to distract me from completing the web quest assignment we'd been given and kept his arm permanently attached to the back of my chair. The days passed slowly by and before I knew it, Friday had rolled around again.

  "Go out with me Saturday," Brodie commanded when he finished the vocabulary worksheet everyone else still hadn't gotten halfway through. He was definitely smart, and his vocabulary seemed to be larger than mine as he helped me through the last three I was having trouble with.