Fifteen

Jasper

On the walk home, I catch myself moving a little faster than usual. The same burst of adrenaline that kept me awake long after Winnie fell asleep still has me all jacked up. How could I possibly close my eyes and sleep away hours of time I was getting to spend with her? I couldn’t. So, I stayed up most of the night, not caring about how tired I’d be today. I got to watch her eyelashes rest on her cheeks and hear the little purring sounds she made like a kitten when she was out cold and dreaming.

Long after I ventured into creeper status, I must have blinked, and my eyes stayed closed. Because, when I woke up, the bed was empty next to me, and I got out of bed so quickly, I made myself dizzy. It didn’t matter how I felt though; Winnie was gone.

The first thing I checked was the window and then the ladder. If she’d climbed onto the roof all by herself, I never would have forgiven myself. Or worse, had she fallen to the ground while I slept, I might have forced myself to jump down, just to hurt myself worse. I would have deserved whatever had happened to me.

But the window hadn’t been opened, and the ladder was still where I’d tied it to the spout. Mom thinks it’s there because I’m working on fixing the drainpipes. That’s a good enough excuse for me.

After I checked the closet, I noticed her clothes were still on top of the dresser, folded neatly in a pile. Wherever Winnie was, she was still dressed in my clothes, and that meant she couldn’t have been far. But nothing could have prepared me for what I felt when I opened the bathroom door and saw her standing with one of Mom’s disposable razors in her hand.

Winnie’s soul is dark. It doesn’t take a genius to spot the black cloud that follows her around and rains on her parade. The weight of the world is slowly crushing her.

Some days, her eyelids were so heavy in class, she would doze off. And, by the time lunchtime rolled around, she disappeared. For the longest time, I wondered where she went for that hour. Figuring she found a quiet corner to nap in, I checked the girls’ restroom and the locker room, risking getting detention for snooping in places I didn’t belong. I’d take the punishment though, especially if it meant I knew where Winnie was.

I almost gave up looking for her, but on the third day of checking every inch of the school, I found her in the sewing lab in one of the family and consumer science classrooms. She had fabric draped across the table beside her and a pincushion tied to her wrist. With every tap of the foot pedal, she zipped through lines of stitching until she got to the end and tore the string between her teeth.

I’d never seen a person create something out of nothing. But that was exactly what she had done. She had taken boring, frayed denim that looked like it belonged in the scrap pile and made cutoff shorts that hugged her hips and barely covered her ass. The inside of the pockets peeked out beneath the fray, and I decided they were the hottest shorts I’d ever seen. I’d watched her try them on, and that was how I knew they were for her. Like I said, creeper status.

It wasn’t my fault though. I couldn’t help the way Winnie fascinated me. She had life working against her, yet she still managed to keep going. So many times, I wanted to walk in the classroom and talk to her. I didn’t know what I would say once I was standing in front of her or if she’d even listen to me, but I knew I wanted to hear her sweet voice and listen to her say my name.

Maybe, if I showed interest in her work, she would open up to me. It was a stupid idea really. Winnie isn’t the girl who sits around, wasting her time making friends or exchanging gossip with social circles that don’t mean shit. She’s the type who keeps her head down and minds her own business.

That’s probably why last night meant so much to me. Winnie’s a tough sell, but she wasn’t just taking my help; she was accepting it, and she wasn’t pushing me away.

Life was good, better than I had expected, and I thought waiting for the right time to make my move was worth it. And then I saw the razor. All the time I’d thought I had suddenly vanished.

When she’d needed me, I had been asleep. I’d like to think that, if I had woken up five minutes before she got out of bed, I could have kept her from making that decision. I could have convinced her that what she was feeling didn’t deserve validation.

Yet there she was, in the middle of a panic attack, and I didn’t know what to do to help her. Reaching for the razor wouldn’t make her problems go away, but I did it anyway. At least, if I had that, she couldn’t use it to hurt herself.

Once the blade was in the trash, I saw her eyes start to shine. As much as she wanted to cry for the ache in her chest, she put my pain before her own. Getting sucker-punched in the face wasn’t ideal, but the reason my face is swollen was worth it, so I don’t care about the ache or the bruise. All I care about is that I was there when Winnie needed me. And that maybe, the next time she picks up a razor, she’ll see my face or hear my voice, and she won’t use it.

I’m so lost in thought as I climb through the hole in the fence, I don’t notice the gunmetal Charger parked at the end of the cul-de-sac, facing my house. The driver-side door opens, and Trey steps out. He tosses his cigarette onto the ground and stomps out the flame.

He walks closer, his boots on the paved street the only sound I hear. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

“About what?” I ask him.

I know what he wants to discuss. I just don’t think I want to listen. Not if he’s going to tell me to stay away from Winnie.

Just like I thought, he says, “Winnie.”

“What about her?”

The chain hanging from Trey’s pocket rattles when he kicks the toe of his boot against the side of the curb. Some dirt falls off onto the ground, and I wonder where he was before this. Probably a grave, burying the last person who tried to get close to Winnie.

“She’s not like other girls, Jasper.”

“That’s why I like her.”

“You’re not hearing me,” he says as he takes another step closer to me.

The intimidation factor is about to explode, but I stand tall. The proof of how unafraid I am to go to battle is clear as day on my face. Trey eyes the mark on my face and smirks. Let him laugh; it won’t change how I feel.

“I heard you, Mr.—” I pause because I don’t know his last name.

My mom always taught me to respect my elders, but in this case, I think she’d be okay with me calling him by his first name. After all, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to offer up information. All he can do is stare a hole through my chest and wait for me to say something stupid enough to warrant another blow.

He places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. The pressure as he digs his fingers into my clavicle almost sends me to my knees. He lets up just before I bend in half like a flimsy cardboard box.

“I’m not going to hurt Winnie,” I tell him. “I’m not going to stay away from her either.”

“Don’t give me a reason to come back, Jasper.”

He drops his hand, and I see it in his eyes—the same look I saw in Winnie’s. If I needed any proof of their connection, I just got it. Suddenly, I believe Trey would do his worst on me. Because that’s what you do for the one you love. And it seems we both love the same girl.

Mom pulls into the driveway with Lydia in the back seat. She doesn’t see us, but as soon as she gets out, I’m sure she will. Trey must be worried because he slides back into his car. One last warning glance, and he starts the engine and pulls away.

The urge to flip him off is strong, but I don’t need to give him any reasons to turn around and hand my ass to me. Trey seems like trouble. Trouble Winnie doesn’t need.

Warning or no warning, I’m not backing away from her. And it’ll take a lot more than being cornered on the street to keep me away.