Nine

Winnie

It’s been three weeks since I got stuck between Tess and the bullet. Twenty-one days since I felt the searing burn tear through my skin and knock me to my knees. They say your whole life flashes in front of your eyes when you’re about to die. That didn’t happen to me. There were no memories of my mother, not a single glimpse of my dad leading me toward heaven, and definitely no angel wings fluttering around me. In my final moments, the bright light didn’t come to welcome me home—because I didn’t have a home. Nobody wanted me. Not even dead.

As the dreary darkness invaded, I should have been scared that reality was slipping away. But, as the silence took over and I fell onto my side, I didn’t care that I was lying on uneven gravel with little pieces of broken glass pricking my skin. Numbness was all I felt. No pain. No agony. I simply didn’t feel.

The shards stuck to my cheek left little cuts as I ran my fingernail through the dirt near my mouth. I didn’t even try to pray. Living or dying didn’t matter because I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be living for anymore. Whatever my body decided to do, I would accept it. And, if I was transported to hell instead of heaven, I was sure it couldn’t be much worse than life.

Heaven or hell, right or wrong, living or dead, I knew Winnie Dawes would be forgotten, no matter what happened. Nobody at school would put up a shrine at my locker to remember the girl who had only said fifteen words during an entire school year. They wouldn’t cry in the courtyard over lunch period or pay tribute to me on the fifty-yard line at the first football game of the year. My classmates didn’t know me, just like I didn’t know them. I never took the time to care. Never let anyone get close enough to see how afraid I really was. Because, if I let someone see the truth, I couldn’t take it back.

I wasn’t alone though. To put it nicely, Carillon had issues. Everyone was fighting a battle nobody knew about. You could see it in the slumped shoulders or the tired eyes as they came and went. The neighbors knew my trailer wasn’t safe. It was no place for a teenager to call home. But they turned a blind eye to the men who lurked at all hours of the night, sneaking into my bedroom to prey on the girl who so desperately wanted to be loved. I was an easy target. And, as long as I was the focus, the rest of the girls my age would be left alone.

Hours of therapy haven’t changed what I’ve been through. Therapy hasn’t made what happened to me any easier to talk about. And it hasn’t made me fight any harder for myself than I did before. Despite the pats on the back and being told I’m strong, I’m still all alone. I just have a few more scars to add to my collection.

Nancy, my social worker, has gone out of her way to make me comfortable. Besides the group sessions, she’s added private sessions of her own. I’m sure she’s worked at least sixty hours with me, and while I’m thankful, I know it won’t do any good. Because, come five o’clock, I won’t be free anymore.

She hasn’t told me about my placement yet. I know it’s coming, and I know she’s purposely waiting until the last minute, so I have less time to dwell on where I’ll be going.

 

“Where do you see yourself in five years, Winnie?”

Five years was a lot of time. I usually lived day to day, not allowing myself to focus on more than twenty-four hours at a time. More than that, and it was hard to breathe.

She’d asked an honest question, so I tried to give her an honest answer. “With Trey.”

Her expression easily showed how much she disapproved of that choice. Without going into a lot of detail, I told her about him.

“What else?” she asked, like he wasn’t enough even though he was everything.

“I want to go to design school and have my own business.”

That made her eyes sparkle, and I knew I’d said the right thing for once.

“Always have a goal for yourself. Don’t let your future depend on another person. Focus on you, Winnie. You can make your dreams happen.”

 

I so badly want to believe that’s true. Without Trey though, all I see is a life half-full. The little spark I feel when he’s around gets me through the tough times. When I’m down, I think of him, and I’m back to the clouds, floating around. He’s my little bit of goodness that I never want to be without.

 

“Where do you see yourself living in a week?” she asked next.

Nancy always started with the bigger picture and then worked backward. Time became shorter, and I was forced to talk about now instead of later. A week was still out of my comfort zone, but I thought about it.

In a week, I was positive I’d still want the same thing, so I told her, “With Trey.”

 

I’d never had a choice when it came to a home, but if she was going to give me one, that was where I wanted to go. My first choice would always be Trey. But just because that’s what I want doesn’t mean I am going to get it.

Since he wasn’t at the hospital during my stay, Nancy didn’t think he would be a good fit. I told her he had a demanding job, and that only seemed to be another strike against him. She didn’t care how nice he was or how good he was to me. It didn’t matter that he’d moved into a crappy trailer across the street to watch over me or that he paid for food and school supplies when I needed money.

Trey was my best option, but he was the worst on paper.

The court wouldn’t allow a man with a record to have legal guardianship over me, especially one who wasn’t related by blood. Nancy didn’t care that he made me feel the safest I’d ever felt or that he made me happy. She cared about all the little things—the stuff a mom and dad would do for me. Trey would never be my parent. He couldn’t be. Because I loved him, and when I closed my eyes, I would think about our kiss and how I wanted a million more.

“Let me ask my mom again, Winnie,” Jasper says for the tenth time today. “Now that Tess is locked up and you’re away from the park, things will calm down.”

“She said no for a reason.”

She said no because I’m trailer trash. Why would she risk backlash from Jax or his groupies by keeping me under her roof? Taking me in would put her at risk. It would put Lydia at risk, and that’s way too scary to think about. That little girl deserves a life without drug dealers and strippers banging on her door or lurking in her bedroom late at night.

It’s killing Jasper that he has no idea where I’ll be in a couple of hours. He’s spent every second of every day at the hospital with me. When I went to therapy, he sat and waited in the rocking chair and took a nap. When I came back, he never asked what I’d talked about or pressured me for information. Instead, he held my hand when I couldn’t breathe, and somehow, he knew that was enough for me.

It’ll be weird to be without him.

“You’ll call me the second you get to where you’re going?” he asks as his knee bounces nervously.

I wish I could give him something to calm him down. I think he needs it more than I do.

“Yes. I’ll call as long as my foster family has a phone I can use.” I’ve heard about homes with next to nothing, and I’m fully prepared to walk into a house with my bag of clothes and continue to live off of tuna fish and crackers.

Horrified at the possibility, Jasper digs into his pocket and hands me his phone. “I want you to take mine. I’ll get a new one and pay both bills, so don’t worry about the money.”

“Jasper, you can’t afford two phones.” Not on a dishwasher’s salary.

“I’ll work extra at The Whip. Just keep it.”

I don’t want him spending any more time at The Whip. Being there exposes him to Tess’s crew, and I know they won’t leave him alone now because of me. He’s on Trey’s side, and once they get word of that, it’ll be him against everyone. Ace can’t protect him. Nobody can.

“I can’t take it. You’ve done enough, Jasper.”

“Winnie, I’m not asking. Here.” He holds out his hand, and when I don’t take the phone, he opens my palm for me.

If I needed to run away or my new foster parents got too close, I could call Jasper or Trey. I want to do the right thing, but I want to be selfish, too. I’m about to hand it back when Nancy walks into the room with another woman by her side. She has chin-length blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. She’s tiny, and she gives me a warm smile. It’s not the fake kind that usually makes my skin itch.

She reaches her hand out, and I hesitate for a second before realizing I’m supposed to shake it. I’m not good at introductions, and meeting new people always means more talking.

“Cindy,” she says. “It’s so nice to meet you, Winnie.”

The name stitched on her blazer, Sunshine Place, is a group home for teenagers. I recognize it from one of the brochures Nancy sent me back to my room with. She thought it might be a good fit. I’d be able to stay at the same school, and while I hate going to class, I’d still see Jasper every day.

Nancy watches me, and when I don’t respond, she takes a step closer. “Winnie, I’ve decided to place you with the home we discussed. Cindy’s the home mother, and you’ll spend a lot of time with her. Both she and her husband are in charge, and I think you’ll learn to enjoy your time there. There are a lot of activities, and you’ll meet your housemates as soon as you get there.”

Cindy smiles and says, “They’re preparing for your welcome party right now.”

A party?

I haven’t been celebrated since I was five. Birthdays come and go without cake or candles, and I’ve never been showered with confetti or balloons. When I got to Tess’s trailer, she pointed to my room, and that was the end of it. I didn’t even have a key for the first month. Not until she trusted I wouldn’t take her stuff or steal the attention she craved away from her.

“She’s always been pretty,” I heard her say the first night. “Too fucking pretty, Jax.”

I cut that night and hoped that it made me uglier—as ugly as I felt on the inside about losing my dad and hating her. I thought, if I went ahead and ruined myself before she could do it, then maybe she’d like me a little more.

Nobody could grow to dislike me more than Tess. I wasn’t perfect, and she reminded me of how worthless I was every chance she got.

“Are we leaving now?” I ask Cindy.

She nods and smiles again, showing off her perfectly white teeth. “Everyone’s waiting.”

“How many people?”

“There are three girls and three boys. Ages thirteen to eighteen.”

“Eighteen?” I question.

She reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I back up before she can make contact. I see the disappointment, but I ignore it.

“We’re your family now, Winnie. You have a birthday coming up, and I don’t want you to be scared about that. Turning eighteen should be exciting.”

I’ve been looking forward to being an adult for so long—mostly so that I could escape Tess—that I haven’t thought about much other than that. I just need to get to that date on the calendar, so I can move on.

“Okay.” I swallow and glance at Jasper. “I guess…I guess I’m ready then,” I lie.

Ready? I’m nowhere near ready.

The thought of sharing a room with a stranger or fighting for the bathroom when I need to escape scares me. I’ll be expected to do chores like a child and earn the right to privileges. I’m used to making myself invisible and erasing my footsteps wherever I go.

Jasper stands up so fast, the rocking chair slams against the wall. Nancy checks for a dent and runs her finger over the small indentation.

“Now?” he says in a rush. “I thought she had another therapy session, and then she’d go after dinner? We had some things to discuss.”

He wants to discuss the phone again, and I’m sure he’d like to discuss us. Nancy tolerates Jasper, but she doesn’t like that he’s as dependent on me as I am on him. He’s my best friend, but I can’t tell her he’s here because he’s working with Trey, too. That would mess up Trey’s plans. Plans I know nothing about but believe exist.

“I’ll be back for you, Winn. Wait for me.”

I heard Trey say it in the hospital. My body was paralyzed, and my brain was foggy, but I heard him. And, when he held my hand, I tried to move my fingers to show him I was listening. By the time I made something happen, Jasper was with me, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. The small movements I was finally able to make were meant for Trey.

Nancy mashes her lips together, like she was expecting this might be difficult for Jasper. “Cindy thought it would be better to get settled earlier in the day. She’ll have her therapy sessions as scheduled at the house.”

“I’d like a minute with Jasper before we go, if that’s okay.”

Both Cindy and Nancy nod, and as soon as they’re in the hallway, I pull Jasper into the bathroom, close the door, and lock it.

“I’m not ready for this, Winnie.” His face is flushed, and he’s starting to sweat.

I reach up and brush the hair off his forehead. He squeezes his eyes shut because my hands are freezing. They’re always cold when I’m nervous.

Jasper’s warm breath flutters across my forehead, and it finally hits me that I’m leaving. He won’t be on the other side of the fence in his big house on the hill anymore. When I need him, I can’t push through the thick branches, climb between the broken fence, and then scale the ladder attached to the side of his house. To get to him, I’ll need to figure out the bus route or get a ride.

Since I’ve been in the hospital, I’ve gotten used to seeing him as soon as I open my eyes in the morning.

“You’re my best friend, Jasper,” I whisper. “I didn’t have a friend until I met you.”

“Why are you talking like you’re never going to see me again?”

“Am I?”

“Your voice is sad. Like when you want to run away.”

“If I run away, I’ll run to you. I promise.”

“Don’t leave without me, Winnie. No matter how bad it gets, just wait for me. I’ll go anywhere with you. We’ll figure it out.”

My lips pull into an unexpected smile. “I haven’t even gotten there yet, and we’re already running away.”

“You know what I mean.”

He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me against his chest. I smell the dryer sheet his mom uses to clean his clothes. It’s how I imagine home smells like—one with two parents and a chore list hanging on the fridge. Wash baskets with each kid’s name on the front and a couple of hooks on the wall by the door where backpacks and lunch boxes hang. A dog with scruffy hair and a tennis ball full of drool. A reminder about the curfew being shouted at a teenager hurrying out the front door.

Normal. I want normal so bad, it hurts.

Tears prick my eyes, and I slide my hand into Jasper’s pocket, rooting around for his pocketknife. He knows what I’m after and grabs my hand while it’s still inside the denim.

“Winnie,” he says with warning, “stop it.”

“Don’t judge me, please. Not this time.”

He lets go of my wrist, and I keep my hand on the knife inside his pocket. He stays still as I pull it out, and then I dig my fingernail into the little groove to pull out the blade. Head-to-toe warmth washes over me like a soft blanket on a cold night.

“Give it back, Winnie.”

“Turn around,” I whisper. “Just turn around, and don’t move until I tell you.”

“You’re not cutting yourself with my knife while I’m standing here.”

I can’t look at him when I say, “Wait outside for me. Tell them I’m going to the bathroom.” Telling him to lie for me isn’t fair, but I’m desperate.

He carefully places his hands around my wrists. Jasper’s always careful with me, but when he says, “No,” he means it.

But I mean it, too, when I shake my head. “One cut.” My scars tingle with anticipation.

He says nothing, so I push up on my tippy-toes and kiss him on the cheek. The breath he sucks in is so sharp, I know I have him.

“I won’t ask you for another thing for as long as I live, Jasper.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says as he lets go of me and turns around.

His words are a harsh rejection, and they’re almost enough to make me want to stop.

Almost.

Saying good-bye to him is weighing me down and so is leaving the hospital with no idea about where Trey is or when I’ll see him again. I trust Jasper to tell him where I’m going, so that’s not really a concern. It’s the reality that I don’t know if Cindy or her husband will let me see Trey once I’m living under their roof. They might monitor every move I make or make sure I’m never alone outside the house—because of the shooting. And I’ll suffocate to death if that’s the case.

Gingerly, because my body’s still pretty sore, I pull my sweatpants down to my knees and sit down on the floor with my legs out in front of me. I’m thankful the material is black and can hide the blood after I’m finished, and then I press the knife into the first white scar at the top of my thigh. Hesitating for a second, I look up at Jasper. I’ve never cut in front of someone before. I wasn’t even sure if I could. But, as I push harder and slice across the scar that holds so many memories, I bite my lip to keep from making a sound.

The familiar burn is followed by the sting I crave. My eyes water at the corners, and if I were still attached to a machine, I’m sure my pulse would be fast enough to send a couple of nurses running into the room to check on me. That rush of adrenaline fades fast though. As quickly as it shot up, it crashes, and then I’m left with a trickle of blood. I stare at it for longer than normal because I don’t know if it’s even my blood. I lost so much of my own, they gave me a transfusion in the operating room to keep me alive, and a little guilt trickles around the curve of my thigh with the droplets.

Just one more cut, I tell myself.

One more, and it’ll be enough to hold me over until I get to the house and meet everyone. But I know that’s not true. Going to Sunshine Place will only make me want to cut more. All the chaos, people, questions. I’m terrible with questions. And I don’t want to go back to sleeping with one eye open again.

Do it, Winnie.

One more cut becomes two and then three.

Jasper turns around before I have a chance to wipe away the blood. He lunges toward me, kneeling on the floor with a handful of tissues. “Fuck, Winnie! Enough!” he shouts.

“Shh! Keep your voice down.” My voice is void of his panic. Bare of emotion or regret.

I never regret this feeling—the reassuring euphoria. If it were up to me, I’d do another cut. I might even make a new scar beneath the others.

“Give me the damn knife back. God, what was I thinking?”

“You care about me?” I say it like I can’t decide if I believe it or if I want it to be true.

He pauses with the bloody tissues in his hand. “Of course I care about you. All I want is to make you happy. Don’t you get that?”

“Nobody else would let me cut.”

“Because it’s wrong,” he says with disgust lacing his voice. “I don’t understand it, and I never will. You’re beautiful, and you want to put marks all over yourself. You want to see yourself bleed, and that’s fucked up.”

Wrong.

Fucked up.

I stare at my hands and then at the thick vein across my wrist. For a fleeting moment, I imagine what it would be like to cut across it. Right here. Right now.

“Cold water helps stop the bleeding faster.”

Jasper just looks at me. Like he can’t believe that’s all I have to say after he just told me I was crazy for wanting to mark up my skin. He’s right though, so why would I argue?

With red-rimmed eyes, he presses cold paper towels against my leg. He’s quiet for a few minutes, and then he says, “What happens if you do this and I’m not there? What if you take it too far one night when you’re upset?”

“I’ve never taken it too far. I know when to stop, Jasper.”

He still won’t look at me, so I take his free hand and lace my fingers with his. Usually, it calms him down as much as it comforts me.

“Look at me.”

When his eyes shift to mine, I get lost. I want to tell him that he has nothing to worry about. I want to be the normal girl he wants me to be. I want to give him everything he needs, like he’s given me, but I can’t. All I know is that I’ll see him again soon. I have to. Because life without Jasper wouldn’t be as bearable. Just like never kissing Trey again would destroy me.

“Don’t be upset. You just gave me the best gift ever. You’re letting me walk out of here with exactly what I needed.”

Cringing, he lets go of my hand and tosses the paper towels into the trash can. Then, he shoves the knife back into his pocket. I’m sure he’ll throw it away as soon as he gets home so that he’ll never be in this situation again.

“What about what I need, Winnie?”

“Tell me.”

A knock on the door interrupts us, and he helps me stand up.

I pull my pants back up and fix my sweatshirt the best I can. “They’re gonna think we had sex.”

That makes him smile. “No, Winnie. When I have you, it won’t be on a bathroom floor. You’ll be in my bed—where you belong.”

I wait for the butterflies to run rampant, but they only flutter a little bit. I smile and hope I blush a little. I do care about Jasper. I feel something for him, and I want to want him as much as he wants me. But Trey’s always in the back of my mind. As long as he’s there, nobody else is going to come close to setting my soul on fire the way he does.