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But last night and today, at least, Cooper had withstood her explosions.Hadshe exploded? Maybe. It was hard to tell from here inside the murk of her head. But yeah, probably. She’d definitely been angry and scared.
Even so, he hadn’t called her a ‘bitch’ or ‘crazy’ or a ‘crazy bitch.’ He’d simply stood there until it was over and let her lean on him. When she’d told him she was tired, he’d put her to bed and tucked her in. And then gone out to repair and wash her car.
Friendship. Maybe it wasn’t all she wanted, but it was all she could trust.
The front door of the junior high school opened and four barely-teen boys and a barely-teen girl ran out in a bundle, dragging jackets and swinging backpacks. A couple had boxes like tool kits or tackle boxes; one had a black case like a big lunch kit, not unlike the one Siena had given Geneva for Christmas, though Geneva’s had a sword printed on it, with the sentenceWhat doesn’t kill you gives you XP.
But Geneva didn’t come out with them. Well, she was supposed to be in charge of this little group, or something like that, so maybe she’d stayed back with Mrs. Jones to clean up.
A few more minutes passed. The kids were gone, collected by their parents or some other responsible person. The door had opened a few more times, disgorging band geeks, science nerds, and a slouching, frowning few Siena clocked as the day’s detention sufferers. But still no Geneva.
Geneva hated her to fuss, she insisted it made things worse, but now Siena was starting to worry. She checked her messages again, but the last one in their thread was what Siena had texted before she’d left the high school lot that morning:I love you. I hope today is better than you think it will be.Geneva had left her on read all day.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed her bag, got out of the car, and headed for the door.
She was halfway up the walk when the door opened again, and this time Geneva walked out. Siena started to smile, but the expression broke apart when she got a good look at her sister’s glum face. At this point, she couldn’t guess if this was the same glum from the morning, or if something had happened at school, or if it was just seeing Siena again that had her so down.
“Hey, hon,” she said as Geneva got closer. “No better today?”
Geneva shrugged. She didn’t stop walking, so Siena turned and walked with her.
“Was D&D club okay? Do you like the kids in it?”
Another shrug.
“Dr. Anders called. She’s got the flu so she had to cancel today.” Surely, news that she didn’t have to meet with her therapist would brighten her outlook.
Nope. Just another shrug. They got to the car and Siena opened the trunk so Geneva could dump her stuff, then they got in. She started the car, and despite the tension with her sister, and her worry for her, Siena felt a little thrill of happiness at the smooth sound of the engine. It was dumb, and also dangerous, but right now she felt like she wasn’t totally alone. She had a friend.
Before she could put the car in gear, Geneva finally spoke. She asked, “Can I show you something?”
Siena turned the engine off at once—and this time she felt confident it would start again. “Of course.”
Geneva took her phone from her jacket pocket. She tapped the screen a few times and handed it over.
It was a photo of a school locker. Closed. Siena assumed it was Geneva’s school locker. Written in Sharpie on the door, in a childish scrawl, were two words and a drawing. The words: FREAK SLUT. The drawing: two sets of two concentric circles, a small inside a larger. Boobs. Only two possible inspirations for that: either one of her former friends had done it, or they’d been talking about her, inventing a story about her like all boys seemed innately programed to do, and now all the boys in ninth grade, and beyond it, thought Geneva had let her ex-friends grope her. And probably more.
Siena closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the fiery, impotent rage burning her up. She wanted tohurtthese terrible children and the adults who either made them that way or didn’t fucking care that they were that way. She wanted to burn the fucking school to the ground.
She was so angry she shook. Geneva’s phone in her hand rattled against the fake leather wrapped around the steering wheel. And Geneva said nothing. She sat in perfect stillness, her head down.
Only one productive thought rose up from Siena’s mental conflagration. Only one thing she could do, with no money, no support, no one on their side. She didn’t know how she could do it, but it was the only thing that was even remotely possible, short of actually burning the school down.
The only thing that could give Geneva some solace.
If she said it, she wouldn’t be able to take it back. She would have to make it work, and she didn’t have the first idea how she could.
But it was the only thing. So she said it. “You don’t have to go back.”
Geneva didn’t smile. She didn’t relax. She didn’t even look over. For a long moment, she was just as still and silent as she had been.
Then her shoulders began to shake and her head bowed further. She was crying.
Geneva never cried. Ever since their mother’s funeral, when she’d been appalled at the mess and noise and ugly faces of their mother’s friends and co-workers. She didn’t like to see crying people, and she didn’t want to be one, so she never allowed herself a tear.
These silent, wracking sobs were like screams of pain.
Siena wanted to pull her close, but Geneva felt trapped in hugs. So she simply reached over and set her hand atop her sister’s clenched fist.
