November 12th: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. If you can't trust the living, baby, who can you trust?

Sunday, December 14th, 2:23 PM

“Aren’t those poisonous? Don’t they have lead or something in them?”

I raise an eyebrow. “They’re just sugar.”

“Yeah. Sugar and metal. Seriously, you’re not supposed to eat them. Helen, come on. Not the whole bottle.”

Helen set the sprinkles down, pouting. “It tastes better with more.”

“It’s pure sugar. On sugar cookies. Pookie, quit putting those on. Seriously, you’re trying to kill us or something.”

Virginia rolls her eyes. “You worry too much, Josie.”

“You should worry, too. Have you met your brother? He’s not a big fan of thinking ahead.”

“They’re not going to kill you. There’s like, three per cookie.”

“Uh-huh. When you keel over, I’ll make sure to remind you of that.”

Virginia grabs a silver ball from my hand and throws it at her. “You’re pathetic. And a worrywart.”

“And you’re like, fifty. ‘Worrywart’? Seriously?”

Virginia shrugs, grabbing the container of metallic decorations. “Eat one.”

“What?”

“Seriously. Eat one. If you eat one, I’ll eat five.”

Josephine rolls her eyes. “So we can both die?”

“We’re not going to die!”

Helen sticks her finger in the dough. I swat her hand away. She grins up at me as our sisters fight, Virginia holding the bottle up to her lips, pretending she’s going to chug them. Josephine has her hands on her hips, looking panicked. Helen grabs my hand with sticky fingers. “Let me help,” she says.

I look down at her. “You promise to use less than half a container of sprinkles per cookie?”

She laughs. “No.”

“Fine.” I roll my eyes, handing her the container. “Have at it.”

I turn around to see Josephine and Virginia still battling, my mother standing behind them with her arms crossed, looking tired.

“Did we wake you up?”

She shakes her head distractedly. “Virginia, put those down, sweetie. I don’t think you’re supposed to eat those.”

“I told you!” Josephine cries, throwing up her hands.

“Keep your pants on, Josie. Jesus.” Virginia sets the balls down on the counter, rolling her eyes. “What’s up, Mom?”

My mother jolts, as if surprised to be addressed. “What?”

“You want to help? I mean, we’re not getting a whole lot done, except Pookie, but you can... Help.” She forces a smile, looking awkward.

My mother shakes her head. “I actually need to talk to Pookie for a minute.”

Josephine shoots me a worried look. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, sweetie. You girls keep baking. I’ll have him back out in a minute.” Her eyes meet mine. Steely. I’ve done something wrong.

Mom retreats to her bedroom. Josephine grabs my arm. “What’s going on?”

“I... I don’t know.” I shrug, giving what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing. We’ll talk later, okay?”

I’m not sure it’s fine, really. Actually, I’m almost positive that it’s not.

I walk down the hall and into my mother’s room. She’s sitting on her bed, her head cradled in her hands. She doesn’t look up when I enter.

“What were you thinking, Ulysses?”

I push the door shut with my foot. “I... I don’t... About the water tower? It was just... I was angry, it was a stupid thing to do, but they...”

She holds up a hand, massaging her temple with the other. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t want to. I don’t need another reason to worry about you.”

“What are you... What...”

She sighs deeply. Her shoulders are tense, her hands shaking slightly. “Tobias Law wants to know where his daughter’s jewelry is.”

“Oh.” Shit.

*****

Monday, August 18th, 1:33 AM

“Oh. Ulysses, is it?”

“Um...” I grabbed my shirt and hurriedly pulled it on over my head, squinting through the very bright lights. “Jesus. I’m so sorry, sir. I... I’ll be out of here in a second. I’m so sorry. We were just watching a movie. I fell asleep, sir. I apologize. So sorry. Um...” I found my belt on the floor and started to thread it through my belt loops, then gave up and coiled it in my hand. “I will... Be... Going....”

“Do you watch all your movies shirtless, Ulysses?”

I flinched. “Um, not... Not usually, sir. It’s very warm. God, sir, I’m really... Have you seen my shoes? Poppy, where did I put my shoes?”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “I don’t keep track of your shit.”

“Do you... Oh, for goodness sake, Poppy, put a shirt on.” Tobias rolled his eyes, grabbing one off the floor. “Here.” He tossed it to her.

She ignored him. “Kennedy, try out in the hall. I think I put them out there because they smelled like feet.”

“Great. I’ll see you... I don’t know. Call me.” I stared at the ground as I walked out, giving a sheepish wave to her father, hoping he would leave me be.

I had no such luck. He followed me into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him. “Are you sleeping with my daughter?”

“I... No, sir.”

He laughed. Not a little scoffing laugh, but a hearty guffaw. “Of course you are.”

“I...” I stepped into my left shoe, hopping on one foot, trying to jam it on.

And that was when he grabbed me by the throat and shoved me up against the wall. I gasped for air, my leg jerking instinctively and catching him between the legs. He jerked back in surprise, and his grip loosened enough for me to get away.

“What the hell?” I gasped.

Poppy pulled open her door just as Tobias went for me again. This time his fist flew at me, connecting with my jaw. “Kennedy, go! Go!” Poppy screamed, her voice shrill and piercing. “Hurry, go home.”

But I was down. I was down, falling, dizzy and in pain. One shoe on, the other lying on the floor a few feet away. Tobias grabbed me by the throat again, pressing his thumbs into my neck, and I couldn’t breathe. He threw me up against the wall, shoving his knee into my stomach. “Get out of my house,” he growled in my ear, releasing me. I gasped for breath, falling to my knees as he backed away. I struggled to my feet and stumbled over to my shoe. Poppy, still shirtless, grabbed it and handed it to me, her eyes shining.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll call you. I...” She bit her lip, sniffling. “Damn it.”

It was the last thing I saw as I stumbled from the house through the back door, my belt still clutched in my hand. Poppy, standing in the middle of the hallway in her underwear, sobbing. I felt I knew all her tragedies, then. But I hadn’t even come close.

*****

Sunday, December 14th, 2:27 PM

“I don’t have it.”

She sighs. “Yes you do. Yes you do, Ulysses. And you think I’m so stupid that I won’t realize.” She looks up at me, her eyes red rimmed. “I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know what... You used to be so good. What happened? What did I do?”

I stare down at the floor, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I... I really don’t have it, Mom. I... I never did. It’s... Look, I’m sure he called Nana and she wouldn’t tell him and now he’s just upset and looking for blood. It’ll be fine.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy, tears welling up in her eyes. “Why are you lying to me?” she whispers, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Just tell the man where you put his damn property, Ulysses, it’s not a difficult thing!” Her voice cracks. She shakes her head angrily, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t have it. I really don’t. I...” I shake my head. “I can’t help him. I don’t know where it is. I just know I don’t have it.”

I pull the door open and walk back to the kitchen. Her sobs echo down the empty hall.

Josephine looks up as I walk in, meeting my eyes. “What’s up?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” I lean against the counter and run my fingers back through my hair, staring at the ground.

Josephine wipes her hands on a dishtowel and whispers something to Virginia. “Come on.” She grabs my arm, coaxing me down the hall and toward the stairs. I follow her dazedly, and she looks back at me with a furrowed brow. “Come on. My room?”

I shrug. She leads me down the hallway and holds open the door, shutting it behind me.

“Talk.”

I stare at her. I have no idea where to start. No idea what to say.

“I don’t know,” I say finally, collapsing into her desk chair.

She sits on her bed, sighing. “What did Mom want to talk to you about?”

“She thinks I have some jewelry. Poppy’s. Her father thinks I stole it.”

“And you didn’t?”

I shake my head. “I know where it is. But he doesn’t. And he can’t.”

“Why not?”

I stare down at my hands. Cracking my knuckles one by one. “I can’t tell you.”

She sighs. “Pookie...”

“No, I can’t. I can’t tell you. Believe me.” I bite my lip and stare up at the ceiling, then sigh. “I... It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time.”

I shake my head.

“Look, I know what it’s like. To feel like you can’t say anything.” She picks at a thread on her pants, avoiding my eyes. “But something happened. When you were over there. And it’s driving you crazy, and...”

“It’s not that,” I interrupt her. “She died. That’s all that happened. This isn’t about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

I shrug, standing. “I can’t tell you. Really. Josephine... There... You’ve got to trust me. This isn’t just about me and some girl.”

“Then what is it about?”

I walk out the door and down the hall, choking back the words. The things I want to tell her. The things I can never tell anyone.

*****

Monday, August 18th, 10:58 AM

“Poppy’s on the phone, sweetheart. Are you awake enough to talk?”

I moaned groggily and held up a hand, my face buried in the pillow. My grandmother passed me the receiver and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“Mmmmph.”

“Kennedy?”

I rolled over, my jaw throbbing. “Ow.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Has your grandmother seen your face?”

The previous night’s memories began flooding back to me. “Uh-uh.”

“Don’t let her. She’ll freak out. I’m bringing ice and a crazy straw that is, regrettably, not shaped like Abraham Lincoln. You need anything else?”

“My dignity,” I mumbled, but it came out garbled. I could barely move the left side of my jaw. I groaned.

“Yeah. Good luck with that one. I’ll be over in a few.”

And she was. Holding a plastic sandpail full of ice and a pink crazy straw in the shape of a flamingo. She pushed the door shut with her hip, grimacing at me. My shirt was twisted around my torso from a fitful night’s sleep. I pulled it down with one hand as she surveyed my room, clucking her tongue.

“This is like, retirement home meets porno movie. You know. With all the dirty underwear on the floor.” She wrinkled her nose, moving a pair of my boxers with her foot. “You know, it’s kind of too late, but I’m suddenly very wary of catching something from you. Like the plague.”

I rolled my eyes. “Charming,” I managed, sitting up in bed. I looked at myself in the mirror across from me. Most of the left side of my face was swollen, and my cheek and jaw were black and blue. My throat still bore the imprints of his hands, with two angry bruises where his thumbs had pressed in with all their might. I collapsed back into bed, groaning.

“You weren’t that attractive before, if it helps.”

I glared at her. “Your father is a freak.”

“Yeah, well, you got it easy. He broke my mother’s leg once.” She perched on the bed by my feet, grabbing a dirty t-shirt from my floor and filling it with ice. “Here,” she said, passing me the compress. “I honestly didn’t think he was coming home. He hardly ever does.”

“Mmm.” I pressed the ice against my jaw and immediately pulled it away. “Jesus Christ.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wimp. Lay on your side. I’ll do it.”

I glared at her. “Not a wimp.”

“Yes you are. My mother never whined this much.” She grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over herself so that my injured jaw was prominently displayed. She scooted up the bed and rubbed my shoulder, resting the ice gently on my cheek, barely grazing the bruises. “You’re lucky. We were on the ground floor. He’s big on throwing people down the stairs.”

“He hits you?”

She laughed. “He’s scared to death of me.”

“He hits you?” I repeated.

She sighed. “You’re really not a very good listener. No, he does not hit me. He’s terrified of me. He used to hit my mother. And no, that is not why I don’t talk to him. Not really.”

“Your dead mother?”

“No, my other mother. Jesus, what do you think? Yes, my dead mother. You’ve sure got a lot of tact.” She moved the compress a bit lower and let it rest a bit heavier on my cheek. “Toby is very crazy. He’s never hit anyone else before, though. He must really like you.”

I groaned. “You’re funny.”

“You’re a whiner.” She shifted her weight, putting her legs up on the bed next to mine. “You’ll be fine. It’ll take a week, at most. You’ll be damn interesting looking tomorrow, though. Luckily most people saw you at the Scav, so they won’t think you’re deformed or something.”

“The Scav?” I flinched as she shifted the ice, pressing it into a bruise. “Shit, Poppy, I’m sorry.”

“The Scav is stupid. Besides, we wouldn’t have won, anyway. Lindsay will give Max and Emma everything. She’s totally sleeping with him.” She paused. “Max kind of sleeps with everyone.”

“He gave you chlamydia?”

She laughed. “Yeah. Maybe you’re not such a bad listener. A horrible fighter, but not a bad listener.”

“I didn’t want to hit your dad.”

“Probably a good idea. Not because he’s my father, just because he could totally take you. He’s got a punching bag down in the basement. Needed something to hit once my mother died.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you want me to stop talking?”

“No.”

“Okay. Anything specific you’d like to hear me talk about?”

“No.”

“Huh.” She thought for a moment. “I assume that you don’t want to hear about how shitty your face looks. Or how little I want to make out with your right now. Or how you left your wallet on my bedroom floor. Nice driver’s license photo, by the way. I like the hair. It’s interesting.”

“It was windy.”

“Uh-huh. If by ‘it’ you mean ‘I’ and by ‘was windy’ you mean ‘put way too much product in because I was going through a gay phase’.”

“You’re mean.”

She laughed. “I know. I take pride in it. Most people find it endearing.”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, well, you have bad taste. As evidenced by that horrible pair of boxers over there with the dollar signs all over them. Those are some classy drawers.”

“Says the girl who sleeps naked.”

“Says the boy who thinks it’s hot.”

“I’m a teenage boy.”

“Like that excuses you for being a horny freak.” She thought for a minute. “Hey, random question.”

“What?”

“If you’re Mr. Tough Guy who got sent out here because you assaulted some guy, why didn’t you hit my father back? Like, instinctively, at least?”

“Not mad enough.”

She whistled softly. “Dude. How mad were you at this first guy?”

“Would’ve killed him.”

“Seriously?”

“His dad pulled me off.”

“But you were that pissed.”

“Should’ve shot him.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Huh.” She pulled away the compress. “The swelling looks a little bit... Oh, hell, it looks the same, but I’m trying to be encouraging.”

“Thanks.”

We were silent for a moment. “I get it,” she said finally, softly.

“What?”

“Wanting to kill somebody.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. Not anymore, or anything. But when I was a kid.”

“Cos of your mom?”

“Yeah. Is that stupid? I mean, I was like, eight. But I just remember when she died... All I could think about at her funeral was that I wanted him in a casket, too. Not just that I wouldn’t miss him if he died or something. But really wanting him to. Wanting to push him down the stairs. Or off a building. Or something. Scare him shitless. Laugh at him as he went down.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah. I never did anything about it, though. Too chicken.”

“It didn’t really help.”

“What?”

“Beating the shit out of him. Didn’t really help.”

She thought for a minute. “Would you do it again? If you could go back?”

“Yeah. Of course.” I said it without thinking. It wasn’t something I had to think about.

“Yeah.” She put the compress back on my cheek, gently pressing it to the swell. “I thought so.”

*****

Sunday, December 14th, 9:51 PM

“How’s Brennan?”

Virginia looks up from her desk and stares at me. “Pookie.”

“No. Seriously. Just curious. How’s his face?”

“He got a nose job over Thanksgiving break. He looks the same as before, now.”

I lean against her dresser and look down at the ground. “And he’s still at school.”

“Yes, he’s still at school. Look, Pookie, just leave it. He’s still Brennan. He doesn’t hold anything against you. Rob says he never even talked about you when he mentioned getting the nose job and stuff. He thinks you were right. But you can’t go picking fights with him.”

I stare at her. “How does Rob know what Brennan says?”

She sighs. “Because... I don’t know, Pookie, because they talk sometimes, okay? Jesus.”

“Your boyfriend talks to the guy who... He talks to Brennan?”

“Everyone talks to Brennan. Everyone loves Brennan. Except us.” She rolls her eyes. “Look, just drop it. Seriously. You’ve beaten the shit out of him. Look where that got you. There’s nothing left. You got your vigilante justice. Let it be.”

“Your boyfriend talks to Brennan.”

She sighs and turns back to her homework. “I’m not talking about this with you anymore.”

“Does Josephine know?”

“Well, she knows my boyfriend, and she knows who Brennan hangs out with, so yeah, she does. And she doesn’t care. So you shouldn’t either.”

“Do you really think it’s wise? Going out with a guy who talks to someone like that?”

She slams her book shut. “Everyone talks to him. Everyone. He’s dating your ex-girlfriend, Pookie. He’s in Josie’s calculus class. He’s everywhere. You’ve got to get over this blind rage you’ve got going every time someone says his name.”

“He’s dating Cassie?”

“Yes, he’s dating Cassie. And you will not do anything to change that.” She glares at me. “Pookie, seriously, move on. It sucks. What happened. It sucks. I know. But you had your moment. You settled the score the best you could, in your own special violent way. And we’re done. You, me, Josie. We’re done.”

“What are we supposed to do now, then?”

She sighs, giving a slight shrug. “This is what we do now. We... We bake cookies. We do our homework. We get back to living. We move on.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

But I can’t. I shoot her a pleading look. She shakes her head slowly, her eyes locked on mine. I look away. I can’t.