Ignoring the phone calls, I look at my messages first. Two are from Emerson and one is from Kelsey. I tap Kelsey’s name first.
Checkin in to see if you’re doin okay. I’m workin with you saturday so we can chat then. Call me if you need anything. She sent it around ten o’clock last night. Scanning the timestamps, I can see Emerson’s text are both from this morning.
Where the hell are you?????
Are you okay? Why are you skipping two days of school, are you mad at me? Text me back when you get this
I’m a horrible friend. I didn’t think to let Emerson know I wasn’t going to be at school; although, I don’t ever remember really making that conscious decision for myself last night. Feeling guilty, I type out a quick reply to both my friends, grateful they both cared enough to check in on me.
Since today is Friday and I’m already skipping school, grocery shopping sounds like a perfect way to pass the time. I can’t remember the last time I had a decent meal and it’s not as if I have anything better to do.
I dig out my knitted brown scarf, wrapping it tightly around my face, and place a matching brown beanie on my head. Pulling on a light sweater, I grab my keys off the counter and shut the door behind me. I jog out to the car amid a downpour of rain.
I’m shaking by the time I climb into my car, which is saying something as I parked only 100 feet from the entrance to my building. Jamming the key in ignition, I turn to fire up the engine. Instead of the strained whining sound my car usually makes, I’m met with silence. Nothing. Nada. The engine isn’t even turning over. Flicking my hand to the dome light, it surprises me when it clicks on. What the hell? I don’t know jack about cars but my gut tells me that this is more of a Wyatt problem than it is a car problem, seeing as I just had her in for the fuel injectors last week. I’m fuming as I dig my phone out of my purse, punching Wyatt’s name on the caller ID roughly.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away. Need me to come take care of you again, baby?” he coos into the phone, smugly. I don’t have time for his games.
“What did you do to my fucking car?” I spit, anger boiling through my veins.
“I didn’t do anything to your car, sweetie,” he says, patronizingly. I could fucking strangle him with my bare hands.
“Well the damn thing won’t start, and I can’t think of any other reason except that you fucked with it.”
“Need me to come tow it for you? I’m at the shop today and I wouldn’t mind taking a little afternoon break.” The implication in his voice is my breaking point. He needs to take a freakin’ hint.
“No, I don’t need you to tow it so your shitty shop can do more shitty work on my shitty car!” I yell into the phone. “I just had my car in your shop last week, so either you messed it up then, or you messed it up last night. Fix this shit!” I’m fuming. My teeth are chattering not entirely from my damp clothes, but from the adrenaline fueled rage in my body.
“Calm down, babe. Let me get it towed and we can put it back together again. I just wanted a reason to see you.” Wyatt has me. He knows it and I know it.
If he messed with my car, I know he won’t fix it until I agree to come by there, and if he didn’t mess with it, and the piece of junk is just broken, he knows he can give me the best deal around to find out what’s wrong. I’m screwed either way, and I can practically hear the victory in his voice through the phone.
“I can’t pay for a fix, let alone a tow, Wyatt. I need to get groceries,” I tell him, hoping he can find an ounce of sympathy somewhere inside his callous black heart.
“I can think of a couple different ways you can pay me,” he taunts, goading me.
“Fuck you, Wyatt. I don’t need you.”
I’m about to disconnect the call when he says, “Wait, I’ll help you. When did you get so uptight about shit? Let me send the tow, for free, and I’ll fix it for you. I just can’t leave work right now.”
I huff in frustration before I answer. I’m cold and tired, and he’s sitting here playing tricks on me. If I hadn’t been so positive about the end of our escapades last night, I sure am now.
“Send the truck. I’ll be waiting inside.” I hang up before he can answer me, incredibly pissed at his games.
Thirty minutes later, his buddy Cole shows up in the tow truck, sporting a shit eating grin I wish I could slap off his face. No doubt that Wyatt filled him in on his little joke, and they had a nice laugh at my expense.
When we arrive at the mechanic’s shop, I hop out and give Wyatt a piece of my mind before finding a place to sit. He told me I have to wait for my car because he has another vehicle in front of mine that needs an oil change, and his boss is hanging around today. What a waste of a day off.
I pull my phone out of my pocket to mess around on some apps to kill time when I see I have a missed call and a voicemail. Plugging my free ear with my finger against the noise from the shop, I listen carefully to the message.
“Hello, Miss Krause, this is Mr. Stephenson. It has been brought to my attention by Mr. Ryan that you have been absent from school for two days, and the administrator doesn’t have a record of any notice or valid reason. Since you do not have a legal parent or guardian responsible for you, I wanted to bring to your attention that regardless of your home situation, you may still be found truant under the law. I expect to see you in class first thing Monday morning. If you have circumstances we need to discuss, please call me. I am here to help, but you need to be willing to ask for it. We’ll talk soon.”
Guilt overwhelms me at the disappointment in his voice, and I delete the recording. I’m one week into my last semester of high school and I’m already sliding. And I’ve disappointed the one person who has stood up for me and has helped guide me through the horror I endured last year. The only adult who’s ever been there for me in any sort of parental role. This isn’t like me. I don’t skip classes or disrespect my teachers or hide out in my bedroom. I’ve bottled up so many emotions over the past year, that I’m about to burst.
In order to right the situation, I need to make a trip to the school to pick up some homework and talk to my teachers and Mr. Stephenson. The last thing I need is to be dragged off to court for a truancy charge.
“Wyatt, how much longer on my car?” I call out, because even though I can’t see him, I know he’s in here. He walks out from behind a large black SUV, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
“A while yet. Why what’s up?”
I try to take a deep cleansing breath to eliminate my frustrations. It’s not working.
“I need to run to the school and get some homework before the weekend since I’ve missed the past two days. Can you give me a lift? They’ll lock up the school pretty quick here seeing as it’s already after four.”
“You bet. Give me two minutes.” Sure, now he’s being pleasant and cooperative. The prick. I shoulder my purse and step outside to wait for him.
The whole five minute drive, Wyatt keeps trying to place his hand on my upper thigh, and I keep having to remove it. When we pull up to the school doors, I see him unbuckling his seat belt, and I freeze with my hand on the door handle.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, confusion coloring my tone. “I’ll be just a minute.”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m coming with you.”
Before I can get out another word, he exits the car and stands, waiting for me on the sidewalk. Rolling my eyes, I climb out of the car, powering up the walkway without stopping to wait for him. He better not lag behind because I want to get this over with, get my car put back together, and not have to deal with Wyatt again.