The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(85)

“We were thinking after you graduate. You’re okay with this?” she asks.

“Of course. You deserve to be happy. Both of you,” I add, including Joe in my smile. “I’d be more enthusiastic, but I’m really tired.”

“I know you are, baby. Get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”

Gratefully, I say good night to both of them, after thanking Joe for the tea and the bath, then I stumble to my room and pass out. I dream of cold instead of fire and I wake with my fists balled up so tight that my hands hurt.

*

The next two weeks are boring and lonely, but I survive them. I don’t write again; I’m waiting for Shane to reply. That’s how snail mail works, right? Ryan and Lila talk to me on Facebook, at least. At last, my punishment ends, and we’re into March when I get the first letter from Shane. I wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed to write back. I’m glad that he is. I open the letter with trembling fingers.

Sage,

I don’t know what to say. Obviously I messed up. He was hurting you and I couldn’t let him get away with it. People like him have everything, and we’re just supposed to let them do whatever they want? I probably should be sorry, and I am a little sometimes, but only because I’m locked up away from you. I’ll never be sorry for kicking Dylan Smith’s ass. He had it coming.

That part makes me laugh. I read on.

I’m waiting for my court appearance. If my dad had come for me, they might’ve released me into his custody. With my record, though, it’s hard to be sure. I’m sorry I never told you. I mean, I hinted, but that’s not the same. In the end, you were so honest, even though it was hard.

It sucks here. I don’t know what else to tell you. Part of me can’t believe I’m here when I was so sure I could handle myself. But like I said before, I never expected you.

I miss you, too. Don’t know when I’m getting out and I refuse to write something stupid like wait for me, but I can’t help hoping you will, even though I flushed my last chance. Write back, okay?

Love, Shane.

I fold the plain notebook paper and slip it back into the envelope, then it goes into my underwear drawer. Things have gotten better with Gabby. Now that I know even my worst behavior won’t scare my aunt away, I feel safer, more at home. I still pitch in around the house, because I love her and want to help, not because I’m afraid if I slip an inch, I’ll be out the door.

Friday night, later that week, I’m sitting in my room, aching for the sound of Shane’s voice. Then I remember—I recorded him on my phone. I pull up the video and tap the screen to play. His music fills the room, making me feel closer to him. The idea bulb flickers over my head. This isn’t great quality, but it’s not like I have anything else to do tonight. So I connect my phone to my laptop and import the file. I’ve done video projects for school before, so I know a little bit about this sort of thing. I can do basic cuts and edits and pretty soon I’ve assembled a decent music video from the raw stuff.

I play it a couple times, then I upload the file to YouTube. After a few seconds of thought, I type into the description: This is my boyfriend, Shane. He’s incredibly talented. And right now, he’s in trouble for standing up for me. If you knew the whole story, you wouldn’t blame him. If people watch this, they’ll see his heart in his music … and they’ll understand that he’s not bad.

Then I record my own video, explaining the entire story. I make sure to mention that Shane got in no trouble at all before his mom died, so clearly these are extenuating circumstances. I don’t omit anything; I put it all out there, including how I blackmailed Dylan with a secret about his mom, how my tires were slashed, how he started picking on Shane again, and I escalated the conflict, and how he retaliated by telling the whole school about my past. I end with, “If you’re punishing people, you need to include Dylan Smith … and me. Because we started this, and Shane is paying for it.”

This is the only move I can make because I can’t let Shane suffer for something I dragged him into. He’s only locked up because he cares about me. So whatever the consequences of telling the truth, I’m ready for them. Aunt Gabby has some contact information for the people handling Shane’s case, so I dig those cards out of the file box. There’s a public defender and a social worker. It won’t hurt to send links to their e-mail. It might not help, but I can’t rest until I put this right. Shane doesn’t belong there. He won’t go on a crime spree if they release him just like I won’t burn anything down.

Like my aunt says, everyone deserves a second chance.

When I send out my e-mail, I also copy the principal and the office staff. Maybe it’s petty of me, but I want Dylan’s mom to know exactly what he’s been doing. Possibly she won’t care, or she’ll even think it’s sweet of him. From her perspective it is, but it’s also mean and destructive.

Before I can reconsider, I hit send. Then I message Ryan. Can u get a couple of videos on the school blog and Facebook page for me?

Right away, he answers, Absolutely. Send them to me?

I forward the e-mail. This way, the school officials can’t keep this quiet. People will be talking about it, at least. It’s possible that they’ll ignore everything I have to say. I’m still the crazy girl who burned a house down, once upon a time. But I refuse to let that moment define me. Aunt Gabby has been telling me for three years that I’ll be okay, that I can do more, be more. And I believe her.