Tell Me Three Things(48)

“I’m just trying to help,” she says. “I don’t want to make things worse—” But I don’t hear the rest of Mrs. Pollack’s sentence, because I’ve already run out the door.





CHAPTER 22


Head down. Thirty feet until I reach my car. Jessie, you can do this. Twenty feet. My hands are shaking, but I keep them in my pockets so no one can see. I keep walking. No one is looking, I tell myself. No one can see you. Fifteen feet. Almost there. I will get into my car, I will put the key in the ignition, I will drive and not stop until the gas light comes on. I will head east, find whatever major highway takes me to Chicago. I will show up at Scarlett’s in time for her mom to serve me homemade kimchi.

“Hey. You okay?” I see his shoes before I see his face, the guitar strap across his chest, but that’s because I don’t want to look all the way up. Liam is the last person I want to see right now, except maybe his horrible girlfriend, but at least if I saw Gem, I would find a way to draw blood. Scratch her with my nails. Break her surgically crafted, six-figure nose. Crack her porcelain veneers.

“Please. Just. Leave. Me. Alone.” Tears are kind of like urine. There is only so long you can hold them in. My car is ten feet away. Ten short feet, and then I can drive and cry without anyone ever knowing. I look forward to crossing state lines.

I picture the sign: YOU ARE EXITING CALIFORNIA.

“Whoa, hold it. What’s going on?” Liam asks, and grabs my shoulder to stop me from storming off. I shrug, but his grip is strong. “You need me to call someone or something?”

“No. You know what I need? For you and your girlfriend to leave me the hell alone.” I am furious, maybe not at Liam, though that doesn’t seem to be relevant right now. Gem and Crystal’s attacks used to be mostly subtle and stupid: my clothes or my laptop tattoos. Whatever. Now, after I talked to Liam for two minutes at a party, the bullying has become something altogether different. Sorry, but his chitchat really isn’t all that exciting. Definitely not worth this.

For a second, I play that game that sometimes soothes me: What would I be doing right now if I were in Chicago and we had never moved? I’d be at a newspaper meeting, or maybe yearbook, cropping pictures and picking fonts. I wouldn’t be happy, no. But I wouldn’t feel like this.

“What are you talking about?” Liam looks confused. I wonder if he is not so bright. According to Dri, he and Gem have been dating for six months, which is five months and twenty-nine days longer than he should have needed to realize that his girlfriend is a royal bitch.

Liam swings Earl off, rests him on the ground next to a car. A Tesla. Seriously, some kid at Wood Valley drives a freaking Tesla. Who the hell are these people?

“Forget it. Please just leave me alone. You talking to me? The opposite of helping,” I say.

“I don’t understand.”

“You want to know why I’m upset? Just go ask Gem,” I say, and finally, finally close those last few steps to my car.

“Wait,” he says. “Will you be, you know, working this afternoon?”

Of course I’m not driving or flying to Chicago today. There will be no signs, literal or otherwise. Escaping is mere fantasy. I have to save up first, since I barely have enough cash to fill my gas tank.

My body deflates—there will be no running, no hiding.

This, right here, this is my life.

This.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” I get into my car, reverse out of my spot so fast I wonder if I’ve left skid marks.

I wait until school is far in my rearview mirror before I start weeping.



SN: watched Footloose yesterday. both versions. in your honor.

Me: and?

SN: they don’t make sense. you can’t have a local ordinance against dancing. that’s a restriction of our constitutional freedom of expression. not to mention the whole church/state thing.

Me: Groan.

SN: and even if you suspend disbelief on that MAJOR plot point…well…

Me: WHAT?!?!

SN: they just aren’t very good movies.

Me: Tell me how you really feel.

SN: but still, somehow I liked the idea of you liking them. does that make sense?

Me: Not at all, but I’ll take it. I’m having a shitty day. Considering hightailing it back to Chicago.

SN: NO!

Me: Ha. Love when your shift key comes out. And your day?

SN: my mom hasn’t left the couch once. brought her lunch. she didn’t eat it. so far gone she didn’t even look up at me.

Me: I’m so sorry. I wish I could help. What about your dad?

SN: he’s talking about sending her to rehab, but honestly, drugs aren’t really the problem. I mean, they are, but they’re more a symptom of the problem.

Me: What do you mean?

SN: she lost a kid. you don’t just bounce back from that.

Me: But she still has you.

SN: why was your day so bad?

Me: Nothing important. Just one of those days.

SN: don’t leave LA. please. you just can’t. promise?



I pause. What does a promise to Caleb mean? We’ve glided past his rejection of my coffee offer, have just dug in deeper, as if it never happened. Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that his complete unwillingness to hang out with me in real life doesn’t hurt.