Part 23 (2/2)
Instead of clearing her throat, and subtly reminding Aunt Jo of my presence, Mom is nodding in agreement. ”I know what you mean. I would love to sneak a camera in here, and catch some of these doctors in the act,” she says dreamily. ”Half of them would have their licenses stripped so fast, their heads would spin.”
Oh, she's about drop some juicy gossip! I don't want to call attention to myself, because she's focusing on Aunt Jo-but I really need to cough again. Wow, Mom, I haven't seen that spark in your eyes in a long time. It makes me wonder if she uses up all her liveliness and personality at work-and comes home with dead batteries. I should visit here more often. Maybe next time I could fall down some stairs, or something.
My loud cough reminds them I'm in the room and listening to everything they're saying. Aunt Jo forces a smile to her face, and comes close to pat me on the hand.
”I think it would be best if you let me handle the press, Juliet. We've got to speak carefully, or it will get blown way out proportion.”
”I have no plans whatsoever to talk to the media about this,” I say firmly. G.o.d, no.
”Good.” She looks relieved. ”I have to get going, I have several phone calls to make. Dear, I'm going to make an appointment for you to talk to Calvin, our school psychologist.” She looks at Mom for approval. ”He's very good at listening, and after the traumatic experience you've just been through, I think it would help a lot if you saw him.”
”I don't need to...” I begin.
”That's a good idea,” Mom interrupts. But she's got this look on her face, like, she thinks it's really unnecessary, and my brush with death was no big deal.
Why am I being so whiny about this? It's not like I'm a little kid, and she can sit next to my bed and sing me camp songs all day like she used to when I was sick.
Aunt Jo says her goodbyes, but stops to huddle with Mom for a moment. She puts her hand on Mom's arm, and leans in to talk so I can't make out anything. She gives her shoulder a pat after the brief conversation, then turns to go.
”Oh, Juliet.” Aunt Jo stops, and turns around. ”You have quite a few concerned friends waiting to see you-many of whom are football players. You might want to remind them about the big game tonight!”
I feel my eyes grow big as I look over at Mom. ”They're still out there? Tell them I'm okay, and they can go. No, wait! Can Johnny visit me-just for a little while?”
Mom raises a dark eyebrow at me. ”Didn't you break up with him?”
”Yeah, but...we're still friends.” I quickly try to smooth my wild hair while simultaneously searching for a s.h.i.+ny surface to check out my reflection.
She looks amused at my quick primping session. ”Alright, but just for a few minutes. You'll be getting discharged soon, anyway.”
”I know. Thanks.”
She leaves, and not long after, Johnny walks in. He immediately gathers me in his arms, holding me like I'm breakable china. Tears suddenly fill my eyes as I allow myself to sink into his familiar warmth. He looks so worried and hara.s.sed, I feel I should take back almost every mean thing I've ever said about him.
”You okay?” Johnny pulls back and searches my face intently, his hands on my shoulders. His jaw clenches as he looks me over. ”What the h.e.l.l happened, Teeny?”
I take a deep breath, trying to push my sobs back. ”I'm fine,” I say in a wobbly voice. ”I'll tell you what happened, but first-did you text me right before the pep rally?”
”No,” he says, confusion making his brow furrow. ”I didn't have my phone on me all day. I left it in my locker 'cause I didn't want to get busted by Driskell for having it on in cla.s.s again.”
I nod, looking down at my hands. I didn't really think the text was from him. I look up at him, and quickly explain what happened.
Johnny's cerulean eyes seem to darken with dangerous intent. ”I'll find out who did this,” he promises, his voice grim.
I lean back against the pillows. ”Okay, great,” I say in a casual tone. ”But I think I already know who it was. Kara.”
He stares at me, his face blank for a second. ”Kara?” he repeats incredulously.
”She hates my guts,” I blurt out. ”Especially after...I can totally see her doing it.”
Johnny starts to chuckle. ”Babe, Kara can barely open a water bottle by herself, let alone mess with smoke bombs. It wasn't her. She wouldn't do something like that, anyway.”
Wow, he seriously underestimates the devious little b.i.t.c.h. I guess she puts on a good act for him. I don't want to argue the point again, so I just give a one-shouldered shrug. If I find out she set me up, I'll take care of it myself.
”Did you tell the cops about the text?” Johnny asks, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. ”No one's asked to talk to me yet.”
”I didn't. I didn't want anyone to accuse you of anything when I know you didn't do it,” I say. ”Plus, I don't want you to miss the game. Speaking of which-you'd better get out of here.”
”f.u.c.k the game,” Johnny says explosively. ”I'm not going anywhere.”
Uh-oh, he's got that stubborn immovable look on his face right now. I let out a sigh and rub my sore eyes. ”I'm fine, Johnny. I'm going to be released soon, anyway.”
”So I'll wait around and take you home.”
I shake my head. ”No, just go. My mom will take me home, then I'm going to shower, and go straight to bed.”
He starts to argue, but I can be stubborn, too. Besides, I know he'd hate to let his teammates down. They take their cues from him and Dean. If Johnny stayed, then so would they. I finally convince him to go, and promise to answer his call after the game.
Right after he leaves, I remember I've lost my phone. I wonder if it's still in that storage closet, or if someone stole it by now. Not because it's such a cool phone, or anything. To the students of Leclare, the only thing of value on it would be all the hot guys' numbers I have. And the pictures. I try to think if there's something incriminating, or dirty on there-I don't think so. I hope not!
I call Heather using the hospital phone, and she shrieks so loudly, I have to move the receiver away from my ear. Her freak out gets me all worked up again, and we babble hysterically at each other for a few minutes. I'm impressed by how emotional she seems, but then I notice how she's slurring some of her words. She's drunk at almost five in the afternoon? I tell her to come see me when she's sober, then hang up on her when she belches loudly in my ear.
Depressed, I call Dad, because I'm sure Mom hasn't bothered to tell him. He immediately says he's driving down to see me, and I have to tell him not to since I'll be at home and asleep by the time he'd get here. I promise to call him when I wake up, and he a.s.sures me he'll tell Mich.e.l.le what happened. It's not like I want everyone to know, but they'd be p.i.s.sed and hurt if they found out from someone else. I know I would be.
Gah. I just wanna ball up under a hot spray of water in my shower-that's how I do my best thinking. There's no question that this was a deliberate attack on me-more than just an embarra.s.sing prank. Who has access to Johnny's locker and hates my guts?
Kara.
Johnny didn't see the look on her face the night I caught the preppy rapist guy on her. I know it's her. I just have to prove it.
Yeah, how?
Chapter 22.
It's Sat.u.r.day, and I feel much better. My chest and throat hurt a little, but not bad enough that I can't eat the homemade brownies Heather brought over last night. Mrs. Jones is an excellent baker, by the way-Heather should so be fat. Johnny calls from his phone, which was still in his locker-though our texts have been mysteriously erased. He and Dean come over after the game-even though I told Johnny I have no plans to leave my bed. So it's really awkward with them standing in my room while I hide under the covers the whole time. Johnny got me a gorgeous plush carousel unicorn, b.u.t.tercup yellow with a sparkly horn. He seems unfazed by my room, which I haven't had time to un-crazy for his visit. Dean brings me cherry Jell-O, which is weird, but surprisingly thoughtful, considering my sore throat. It's hard to eat it under the confines of my blanket, but I manage.
Oh, Leclare won over Easton High, thirty-two to fourteen. That has Johnny in a great mood, and he tries to convince me to go to the dance with him before I head over to my dad's. I stubbornly refuse, reminding him of Mich.e.l.le's party tonight. Of course, he immediately decides he should go with me. Though I'm really tempted to say yes so he doesn't go to homecoming, I resist. He got crowned king last night, and it wouldn't be right if he didn't show up. I don't ask who won queen, and he doesn't volunteer the information.
I do homework at Dad's until Mich.e.l.le comes to get me. I remain super mopey-even though she pampers me like a princess. She takes me to the mall to get a new phone, and now we're eating huge ice cream sundaes in her newly renovated kitchen. The stainless steel counters are awesome.
”You have to go to that dance, Juliet,” Mich.e.l.le declares, licking whipped cream off her thumb. ”Screw my party-homecoming is an important rite of pa.s.sage. G.o.d, that was a great night for me. I got so drunk, I threw up all over the back of Mrs. Dempsey's head.”
I make a face at her. ”That was a great night for you?”
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