Текст книги "Naked"

Автор книги: Stacey Trombley

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Chapter Five

We eat a quiet dinner together, me, my parents, and Sarah. It’s quiet and awkward and I hate it. Every second.

I spend my time thinking about anything except my reality. Anything but Luis and New York, my mother and father, my bedroom waiting to haunt me some more, or the whole new torture of high school waiting around the corner.

So instead I stare out the window between bites of roast beef and watch the too-still doghouse and the empty yard next door.

When my mother finally clears the table of our plates, the sun has barely gone down, but I should go to bed anyway. I need some time to process all of this.

Sarah pulls me to the side before I can head to my bedroom.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks me.

Not really, but I have to make a choice and stick to it.

I nod.

I know one thing. I’ll find a way to be okay. I always do.

“All right,” she says. “But I want you to let me know if that changes.”

I nod and head back to my bedroom without waiting for her to leave.

My bedroom.

I don’t know. Can I consider this my room now? Just because it still has my things in it? Just because it’s where I’ll be sleeping now?

That prison cell felt more like home.

At least there, nothing could remind me of what my life was like before. But in my room, there are the stuffed animals I used to talk to. These stupid pink pillows, my old sketches, and dreams. All reminding me of what it was like when I decided to leave. Why I had to go.

I made the right choice. I have to believe that.

But then what am I doing back here? Why am I not still with Luis?

It still hurts, knowing what he did to me.

I can’t think about whether or not he ever cared. He had to care, at least at the start. I remember when I first went to New York. No one would help. No one would even look at me. But he took me off the streets. Saved me. Told me I was worth something. I don’t think I knew how much I needed to hear those words until he said them. In a city of eight million people, he saw me. He picked me. That had to mean something.

I remember shivering on that lumpy old brown couch in his shoe-box apartment on that first night, and the way he whispered gently in my ear and told me everything would be okay. I hated that couch. And the peeling wallpaper. And the cockroaches. For a while, I hated everything about that apartment.

But Luis’s warm, dark voice made me feel protected and safe, like I was cupped inside two enormous hands. Somewhere along the line, however, those hands had started tightening, squeezing…

On one of the bad nights, the kind where I felt sick and started to regret everything, a guy’s filthy stare boring into me, the feeling of his hands rubbing on mine, of his body, and I want to throw up, I want to give up…

“It’s going to be okay,” Luis said to me afterward, when the tears rolled down my cheeks. “This is only temporary. The money is so good, it’ll help us get where we need to go. We can be happy together forever. We just need that jump-start. You can give that to us.”

“But the things I have to do…”

“It’s nothing,” Luis said. “It’s just sex. Sex is a good thing. Do you know how many people would kill to make money on sex?”

I shook my head. I didn’t understand it. But Luis’s voice was so comforting and kind, everything made sense when he said it…

“Those guys pay for it,” he said. “You get the money. That’s not even fair to them. You are in one killer win-win situation.”

I imagine his voice, the way I could almost feel it on my skin like a warm blanket. It wiped away every bad feeling.

Somewhere along the line, it all went wrong. I know that. But he had to have cared at the start. Because if he didn’t, it means that it was all worthless. It means he stole everything. It means everything—everyone—I did was for nothing. All the men. All the johns.

I did all of it for Luis.

And if he was just using me…I can’t even consider it.

I refuse to turn on the light. Instead I lie down on the twin-size bed. It used to be the perfect size, but now I feel the wall pressing in on my side.

I close my eyes, but sleep won’t come.

Luis. Is he thinking of me? Does he regret what happened?

I picture his smile. I remember how easy it was to give in to what he wanted. How easy it was to trust him. Nothing mattered except Luis and how I’d do whatever it took to be with him. Forever.

What a load of shit.

Chapter Six

It will officially be Monday in two hours and counting. Monday means school. Not exactly the most comforting of all thoughts.

I could run away again. But it’s not just the thought of failure that makes me stay in bed. My mom finally spoke up for me. It was small and might not mean anything at all, but I can’t get it out of my head.

I wish she had the courage to run away, too.

When I finally pull myself from bed, my eyes are heavy and dry. Great, I’m going to look like a crack whore on my first day of high school. Guess it’s not far from the truth.

I try to dress according to my mother’s fashion sense, not that I have anything to work with that she wouldn’t approve of. In my family, like it or not, you always have what you need. I pick a pair of jeans, a blue top, and a scarf. I don’t look like me, but I’m not supposed to, right?

I stop at the end of the hallway when I hear my parents around the corner, at the front door. My father must be on his way to work.

“I don’t care what Sarah thinks is best,” he says. “Taking it easy on Anna is what got us into this mess.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “But what she said last night. Maybe we could take it easy on her for a while.”

“And then what? Break it to her that there are rules she has to abide by?”

Like I could ever forget. I knew there were conditions to coming back. But damn, does he have to lay into her so soon?

“I just think maybe we’ve…maybe we’ve been too hard on her,” my mom says.

Dad’s voice grows louder. “Don’t think you’re fooling me with this ‘we’ talk,” he says. “I know you blame me. You always blame me. Well, it’s not me who coddles her. It’s not me who let her think she could get away with whatever she wanted. All I did was try to be a good father.”

If it was anyone else, I’d think it was just him getting emotional, but he’s always so calculated, I have to guess he’s saying that so loudly because he wants me to hear all the way from my room.

“That’s not what I mean,” Mom says, and her voice gets so soft that I want to run back to my room, where I can try to forget how often this happened before I ran away.

He said she always blames him, but it’s always the other way around. She can’t complain about anything without him turning it around.

“Oh, here we go again,” he says. “What you ‘mean.’ I know what you mean.” There’s a long pause, then he says, “One of us is ready to put our emotions aside to get Anna back in line. You better decide if you’re going to help me. Because if I come back tonight and you’re still giving me this nonsense, I swear to God, Nora…”

The door closes, and I rush back down the hallway as quietly as I can. I wait a few minutes, then come back down, stomping on the floor to let her know I’m coming.

When I come into the kitchen, she’s at the sink, staring at the dishes but not actually touching them. Her eyes are red, but to her credit, she puts on a smile when she looks up at me. I want to say something, do something, but she’d say something if she wanted to talk about it, so the best I can think to do is be nice enough to play along with her like everything’s okay.

I convince her to let me walk to the bus myself. I considered having her drive me, but I figure I’m better off pretending to be as normal as possible.

She even gives me a banana for breakfast before I leave. Then I head out the side door, because apparently my mother likes to have the dog chained to a pipe in the foyer at night. Makes her feel safer, she says. How does she expect the dog to protect her if she doesn’t ever do anything to protect it in return?

The bus is pulling up as I approach the stop. Part of me hopes the driver will leave before I can board, but he waits for me.

Everyone gets quiet as I walk on. I speak to no one, just slink down into a seat by the window and watch as the stupid suburban houses, people, and cars fly by. It’s nice, surprisingly enough. Almost like looking out the window on the subway in Brooklyn.

Then someone sits down beside me with a thunk, like he wants to be noticed. It’s a boy. A strange, cool calm fills me when I recognize him. The boy from next door. Jackson.

He leans back in the seat, comfortable, his head high, his shoulders back. The complete opposite of my sunken-down position, knees pressed to the back of the seat in front of me. I’m hiding; he’s hoping to be seen.

I’m close enough to him now to see why he’s so confident. Tall, skinny, wearing thick-rimmed glasses that look more chic geek than Clark Kent. His eyes are hazel and actually really pretty. He ought to be a typical nerd, but he’s anything but. Smooth skin. Perfect teeth. The guys I met in New York, I was lucky if they’d bathed and brushed their teeth in the last few days.

But this guy… He smells clean. And he came and sat next to me, like he had nothing to lose. He nods to a young-looking kid—has to be a freshman—as he passes to find another seat, and the kid beams back at him. I’d call Jackson cocky, but his smile is quiet, so sincere that his confidence can’t be anything but charming. It’s almost like he chooses to wear glasses and a collared shirt just because he likes them.

“Anna, right?” His smile is big and bright, so sincere that I envy him for the perfect life he must have.

“Yeah,” I say, but my smile doesn’t come as easy as his.

He gives me that look again. The innocent, curious look that tells me he doesn’t see the truth, he doesn’t see the brokenness. To him, I’m a blank slate. A stranger. A mystery to be solved.

I don’t know if anyone has ever looked at me like that. My parents certainly don’t. Luis never did. Even Sarah doesn’t. They see someone who needs to be rescued.

But this boy’s eyes are so light and alive, and I realize that this is a fresh start. Not the tainted reboot my parents and Sarah are offering me. A true fresh start.

He doesn’t have to know about my past. He doesn’t have to know that I’m more messed up than he’d ever be able to comprehend.

To him, I can be just Anna. Not ruined or broken or tarnished or pathetic.

Just Anna.

“I’m Jackson,” he says, his fidget the only sign he might be a little nervous.

“I remember your name,” I say.

He shifts his schoolbooks to his other hand and rubs his right hand on his knee. His face stays calm, though.

Maybe I can pass for a normal girl, after all. Better than that, maybe I can be someone new. Someone I want to be. Not the middle school slut, not a disappointment, not a whore, and not someone to pity. Maybe I can leave both of my old lives behind and find something new.

Sarah told me that the few friends I had in middle school either moved away or go to private school now, so most likely no one will know who I am. Most of my real friends were older, and they’re already out of school.

This is a good thing, I try to convince myself.

It will at least take a while for the people at school to figure it out, figure me out.

I smile. I’ll think of it like I’m walking through New York City, when I used to look at all the people and imagine their lives. I’d pretend I belonged with them.

This can be like that. Except this time, maybe it will work.

“Now that’s the first real smile I think I’ve seen from you,” Jackson says.

I want to cut the smile off. I can’t be so transparent with a stranger, even if he is so cute and nice. But my smile won’t seem to go away, so I just say, “Nice to meet you, Jackson.”

“You’re new, right? Where are you from?” he says, leaning in slightly.

I fidget in my seat and press my back against the cold glass of the bus window. As much as I like the way Jackson looks at me, I can’t help but feel that if he looks too closely, he’ll see right through me.

My smile? A hint at the past I’m happy to forget.

And being friendly with him? I’ve been friendly with nice guys before. In the end, I always found out opening up to them was a mistake.

“Yeah, I’m new,” I say quietly, but I ignore the rest of his question. In part because I don’t know how to answer it. I squeeze the ugly blue backpack Sarah bought me tighter, like it can protect me.

“You’re living with Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez, right? Are you related to them?”

I blink. How long can I maintain my cover if he keeps asking questions? It’s not like anyone’s going to figure it all out at once, but there can’t be too many girls in town who disappeared for three years. I don’t want him to know even that much.

He might not have any clue where I’ve been, but I didn’t exactly have a pristine life before I ran away. I used to be the middle school slut, dated a college guy when I was just thirteen, and used to brag about how I wasn’t sure if I was pregnant or not…

As much as I like pretending I’m a normal girl talking to a cute guy, I can’t keep it up forever.

It’s a double-edged sword. If I tell him the truth and he likes me for who I really am, I’ll know there’s something disturbingly wrong with him. And if I lie, pretend to be someone else, he’ll just hate me even more when he finds out the truth.

So why do I feel tempted to keep sitting here with Jackson and see how much of his confidence can rub off on me?

Luckily for me the bus is already pulling up to the school, so I jump over him with a quick, “Sorry, gotta go,” and make my way to the front as the doors open. Everyone stands up to exit the bus, and I see Jackson lost behind about a dozen kids. Just enough for me to escape into the crowd.

I’m comforted by the mass of bodies around me now. At least here I can blend in. But the glass doors stare down at me. I stop, my heart pounding. So much for stealing some confidence from Jackson.

I look at the crowd around me and step off to the side, behind a bush and an empty bike rack, and close my eyes.

My first day of school in three years and I’ve already blown my cover as a normal student.

Not that it would have taken everyone long to notice something was different. I’m a sixteen-year-old freshman. I didn’t even complete my eighth-grade year. I skipped town a month before the end of the year.

My father wanted them to put me in the grade appropriate for my age, but apparently there are some things even he can’t force people to do. The other freshman are thirteen and fourteen years old. I’m a total freak.

I take a deep breath and try to relax.

I don’t expect to be Miss Popular here. I wasn’t popular before I left, and it’s not like I want that now, but I still have a little pride.

I can do this.

After a deep breath, I walk inside. Into the busy crowd of students. It reminds me of my first moments in New York City. Lost, alone, surrounded by hundreds of people who don’t notice you, let alone ask if you’re okay.

Like you’re suffocating and there are hundreds of people who could stop and help you—but no one does. The same way no one stopped to help me.

Except Luis. He stopped. He helped me. Took me from Grand Central and showed me the city.

I press on. The girl at Grand Central is no longer me. I’m stronger. This time, I don’t need help. This time, I’ll do it all on my own.

I go into the front office and walk up to the counter. I stand there, content in watching the office drones fussing over a copy machine and filing paperwork, until finally a woman wearing an ugly turtleneck looks up and notices me.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say something, sweetheart?”

“I, um… I’m new.” It’s close enough to the truth.

“My name’s Mrs. Norberry. What’s your name, sweetheart?” she says, rummaging around in a pile of paperwork.

“Anna,” I say. “Anna Rodriguez.”

“Right,” she says. Grabbing a folder that was set off to the side.

She opens the folder and stares at it for a moment, too quiet. How much does she know? How much does anyone here know? I can’t believe my parents would tell them much. Not the whole truth. But the way she’s looking at whatever’s in that folder, as though trying to make sense of what it tells her about me…

Finally she pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to me.

“This is your schedule,” she says. “Let them know you’re new. And the proper paperwork will be filled out later. Looks like you’re meeting with Jennifer Thomas for tutoring? You have the same homeroom, the library. There’s still a few minutes left before she goes to her next class. Would you like me to take you to the library to meet her?”

I force my lips into something resembling a smile. “That would be nice, thank you.” I feel strange, like someone else is in my body. I don’t belong here, and I can’t help but feel like this lady knows it. What did it say in my file that made her get so quiet?

I pull the hem of my shirt down, like I’m trying to hide the ripped fishnets that expose who I really am. Even though I’m not wearing them, I can feel them.

The library is just down the hall, so it’s a very short trip. The smell of dust and stagnant air fills me as we enter the room. Brown stained carpet lines the short entrance to the library.

I follow the office lady straight to a table at the back, where an awkward-looking girl sits. Her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail and is still long enough to reach the thick black belt on her jeans. She’s very skinny, and even though she’s sitting, she seems like she’d be a few inches taller than me.

“Jen, this is Anna. She’s the new girl you’ll be tutoring.”

Her shoulders stay hunched over as she smiles. I sit in the chair next to the awkward girl, and she sends a quick smile to the office lady. “Thank you, Mrs. Norberry.”

Just then the bell rings.

“Well then,” Mrs. Norberry says. “I’ll leave you two alone. But hurry on or you’ll be late for class.”

She leaves the room, and now Jen and I are alone.

I try to breathe deeply as we look at each other in silence.

“Want me to show you where your first class is?” Jen says.

I’m the city girl. It should have been me who was brave enough to make the first move.

“Sure,” I say.

Jen leads me to my first class, history with Mr. Shelf.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ve got it from here.”

And thankfully that’s enough for her to leave me and go to her own class.

I stand there and stare at the room number and take deep breaths. I don’t go inside.

I close my eyes and see Luis. I feel his breath on my ear as he says, “Everything is going to be okay.” And I repeat that to myself.

I don’t care what anyone thinks.

Everything is going to be okay.

Chapter Seven

I open the door, and a dozen heads turn toward me, curious. I stop and stare like a deer in headlights. They look at me, and I look back at them.

“Can I help you?” a young teacher in a button-up shirt and paisley tie asks. This must be Mr. Shelf.

“Yes, um, I’m new.”

“Oh!” He grabs a few things off his desk and hands them to me. “Here, take these. This is your syllabus and your book… What’s your name?” He’s talking very fast, and I’m not sure I know what he’s even talking about. What’s a syllabus?

“Anna Rodriguez.”

I sit down at the first empty seat, next to a redheaded girl with braces.

The young teacher begins talking about some group project. He tells me I can skip it and write an essay instead. He makes it sound so simple.

Group projects. Essays. Syllabuses.

Yeah, I am definitely in over my head.

But as much as an essay sounds like a trip to the dentist, I’d rather work alone than with these kids whose wide-eyed looks are starting to make me wonder if I have antennas poking out from under my curls. It’s like I’m some kind of alien. Guess I kind of am.

The redheaded girl keeps glancing over at me. Easy enough to ignore. I’m just the new girl.

But then I hear someone whisper something to her that could be meaningless or could mean everything.

A boy leans over to the redhead and whispers, “She’s that girl.”

I raise my eyebrows.

That girl from L.A.? The punished heiress? The foreign exchange student?

“What girl?” the redhead says.

“The one that disappeared. For years.”

My stomach twists. I’m pretty sure I might throw up. How in fuck’s name would he know that?

My hands start to shake; my head pounds. Thanks, Mom, this was an awesome idea. I close my eyes and listen for any more whispers. Is this all they know? Is even this just a rumor? I need to know how much they’ve figured out.

“Mr. Thomas,” Mr. Shelf says, louder than before. “Care to explain what the fuss is all about?”

The whole class turns to the now red-faced skinny boy behind us. “Anna Rodriguez is the girl they’ve been looking for since sixth grade. I remember seeing the posters.”

“Do I look like that girl?” I ask. Blood is pounding in my ears now, but I know I don’t look anything like that old Anna, and that might be my only way out of this now. “We could just have the same name,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel.

“Come now,” Mr. Shelf says. “You’ll have a chance to get to know our new student after class is over.” The class quiets, and he leans down next to me. “Are you okay?”

I nod. The last thing I want to do is run out of the classroom. Then they’ll know something is wrong.

Mr. Shelf resumes teaching, and I do my best to look normal, but I still see eyes darting toward me. I try to ignore them, but it’s hard.

I cross my arms, feel my armor rising. They’re just rumors right now.

They don’t know the real truth. With a little luck, they never will.

I jump when the bell finally rings, much louder than I remember it being.

While everyone else leaves class—the only thing more interesting than the new girl is the chance to escape the room, I guess—I sit there and watch them exit. Desperate for a second alone.

“Do you need anything, Anna?” the teacher asks me. “Are you okay?”

Scratch that. There’s really no chance to be alone, not here.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says. “They’re just interested in the new girl. It happens every time.”

I don’t answer, just grab my things and head out into the packed hallway.

Strangely enough, things seem to slow down once I’m out there. It almost feels like I’m back in the city, surrounded by strangers. Almost invisible. No one says my name, no one calls me a hooker, and no one points in my face.

But when I start forward to my next class, the boy and the redhead point at me, and the people they’re with, three other kids leaning against the lockers, they turn toward me all at the same time.

I want to wrap myself up in a sweater or something. Anything to keep myself away from their curious stares.

“Seriously?” the redhead says. “That’s that girl from middle school?”

“I heard she had like three kids.”

The redhead gasps. “What is she? Some kind of slut?”

So much for being someone new. I’ll always be dirty Anna.

I duck my head and press my way through the crowd, and then I realize that I have no clue where I’m going. I just continue to walk. I keep my eyes mostly to the floor but glance up every once in a while to see if I can find something or someone to save me.

“I heard she was in rehab!”

They think it’s funny to say those things about me. But all they have are rumors. If they knew the truth, the full truth, would they still be laughing? If they knew what I had to do to survive, would they hate me or pity me?

“I heard they found her shacked up with some rich sugar daddy…”

“No way!”

“Where’s she been for three years, then?”

I shove myself past some big girl who’s probably not used to being pushed around, but I don’t care. She makes an indignant grunting noise, but I’m not scared of her, just like I’m not scared of anyone else here. Not the students. Not the teachers.

As horrible as this feels—the eyes, the name-calling, the thoughts in my head that tell me I don’t have a future—none of it can be as bad as what I’ve already been through. I have the scars to prove it.

“Gross, I can smell the skank from here.”

No one knows. No one will ever know what I’ve been through. No one but Luis.

Unfortunately, thinking about those bad things only opens the floodgates to memories I’d rather forget.

My breathing is quick and heavy, my heart pounding. I try to convince myself I’m okay, but the bodies pressing in on me are impossible to ignore.

A massive hand crashes into my chest. My back slams against a wall behind me. It’s dark and I can barely see my attacker. But I can feel his hot breath on my face.

I shake my head. It’s just a memory. The past. I’m not there now.

I close my eyes and hear Luis’s voice telling me how strong I am. How amazing I was to live through everything and still come out fighting.

I was on the streets, ready to give up, crumple into a ball, and disappear. Anything to make it stop. Then he found me. Lifted me up—

A soft hand wraps around my wrist.

For a moment, I’m in shock, stuck between the memory and the present.

But the touch is gentle. Almost the way Sarah grabbed me the other day. Whoever it is doesn’t want to force me somewhere. Whoever it is wants to help.

I look up to see hazel eyes surrounded by glasses and freckles. I barely know him, but right now he’s the most welcome face I’ve ever seen.

Jackson.

I follow him down the hall and through a set of double doors.

It’s dark here, and my heart pounds for a second, unsure of where we might be, but then I see rows of seats, and down below, a stage with curtains. We’re on the balcony of a theater.

The wooden doors close behind us and cut off the sounds of laughter.

Now I can breathe again.