Chapter Six

SIX

I was such a fool.

In his office earlier, Coach Ellis had looked at me with care and affection, saying he knew something was wrong and giving me the chance to tell him myself.

I hadn’t taken it.

I’d sat in that chair across from his desk and smiled and said everything was fine. I was only adjusting to a new schedule, there was absolutely nothing to worry about at all.

I watched him watch me lie to his face for the first time since I’d met him, and it made me feel so incredibly gross, that I wanted to throw up in my mouth.

I didn’t talk to him about my home life and the issue with Jace’s family, but it wasn’t because I didn’t trust him. I simply didn’t want to inconvenience him, especially he was already doing so much for me in school.

Coach just nodded slowly. He didn’t look very convinced, but he smiled and said “Okay, Lena, my door is always open. If you ever need anything, make sure to come to me first, alright?”

It was the first time I'd ever lied to Coach Ellis.

And now this

Life was so unfair..

There I was standing in a guest room in his house with my back against the wall where he’d put me, his hand still warm on my face where he’d covered my mouth, and I was shaking. 

I shook so hard from fear and terror and anger at him for hurting my pride and talking to me like I was a common criminal. 

No! Never again! I had accepted a lot of bad treatment in my life, but I couldn’t take this. If I stayed one more second in the house, I knew he would murder me.

That look in his eyes was so cold, so steely and devoid if any human emotion and compassion. It was murderous.

I quickly pulled out my phone so I could put a stop to all of it, all my earlier courage and certainty flowing out from my body.

I had to call Mom and tell her I’d finally quit. I would try to get as a labourer, or a waitress or tutor someone other rich person’s spoiled kid before I stayed in this house.

There was no amount of money worth this kind of mistreatment.

The line picked up on the third ring.

“Lena, oh thank God, I have been losing my mind all day—”

I opened my mouth to say something.

“The funeral director, I swear to you, I have called that man six times today, six times, and every single time he has a different answer for me. First it was yes the photo will be ready by Friday, then it was maybe Saturday morning, and now suddenly the graphic designer has some kind of file problem and nobody can give me a straight answer and your father’s funeral is tomorrow, Lena, tomorrow, and I cannot get one single person to…”

“Mom.”

“And then the bank, because apparently today was the perfect day for the bank to send me not one but two letters, two, like I don’t know I’m behind. Why do they think I need it in writing two separate times?!”

“Mom, breathe…”

“I am breathing. I’m breathing and I’m dealing with a funeral director who doesn’t understand the concept of a deadline and a bank that thinks sending me more paper is going to somehow produce money I don’t have, and Mrs. Martinez from next door keeps coming over to drop off food which is so kind, it’s so kind of her, I just, every time she comes I have to hold it together and smile and…”

Her voice cracked on the last word. Just slightly. Then she pulled it back.

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I just don’t know how tomorrow is supposed to work,” she said, quieter now. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to stand there and…” She stopped. 

I heard her exhale heavily through the phone and shut my eyes, feeling the same exhaustion she felt. Like mother, like daughter.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you don’t need this. You’re on your first day and I’m…”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “Tell me about the photo. What format did you send the graphic designer?”

“What?”

“The file. What format.”

“I… it was a JPEG I think, your cousin sent it to me..”

“That’s probably the issue. Ask him to convert it to a PNG and resend it, that way it’ll have a higher resolution. The printer should be able to work with that.” I kept my voice even. “And call the funeral home back and use the words print-ready file. It usually moves things along.”

A pause. "How do you know that?”

“I did the memorial program for Mr. Henderson’s retirement at school last year. She had the same issue.”

“Oh. Okay. Okay, I can do that.” She took a steadier breath this time around. “As for the bank letters, I think I’ll just… I’ll put them aside until after tomorrow. One thing at a time.”

“One thing at a time,” I agreed.

“Okay.” I could hear her pulling herself back together piece by piece. “Okay. So. Enough about me and my problems. How’s your first day going, sweetheart?”

I looked at the scattered contents of my box still on the floor where Jace had thrown it. My carefully colour coded tutoring plans, Jace’s grade breakdown, Martin’s curriculum, all of it upturned and lying where it had landed. 

I could still feel the pressure of his hand on my mouth probably trying to suffocate me to death.

“It’s good,” I said. “Really good. Fantastic, don’t worry about me.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Go call the funeral home. PNG file.”

“PNG file, right,” she repeated. “I love you, my daughter.”

“Love you too.”

I hung up, sat there for a moment with the phone in my lap and the silence of the room around me.

Then I glared at Jace’s closed door and raised my middle finger at it. Did it make me feel better? Not really.

But I picked my stuff up off the floor anyway, stacking the pages back in order, smoothing the bent ones, because I wasn’t quitting. 

I’d just listened to my mother while she was barely keeping it together and I couldn’t make this worse by adding my own drama on top of that.

I gathered everything into a pile, tucked it under my arm, opened the door and crashed straight into something.

“Oh no!”

“My train!”

All the stationery I was carrying crashed to the floor and went everywhere, pens rolling, pages sliding, the highlighter bouncing twice before disappearing under the hallway table.

I looked down to find a little boy with pitch black hair wearing a dinosaur shirt. He was sitting on the floor surrounded by the both our things, staring at something in his hands a heartbroken eexpression.

It was a toy train, and now, because of me, it was split cleanly in two.

The boy, who I believed to be Martin, Jace’s little brother, came really close to crying, and I could tell how hard he was struggling to compose himself, biting down on his lip and blinking over and over again to try and stop the tears.

Give it up for Lena everybody! What a good first impression she made today! Now both brothers hate her! I thought, wringing my fingers anxiously.

“Hey. Im really sorry, I didn’t see you there.” I said, crouching down. “I can fix that, don’t worry.”

He looked up at me for the first time, his dark eyes furrowed with annoyance while he said nothing at all. I almost laughed at the look on his face, it’s so stinking cute.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I’m really good at fixing things. Do you want to come downstairs and let me try?”

He looked at the train, then at me.

Then he stood up, picked up the pieces if the train, and walked toward the stairs.

I’ll guess I’ll take that as a yes.

After a bit of searching, I found wood glue in the third drawer I tried and turned the kitchen table into a surgery table.

Martin sat across from me and watched with the focused attention while I cleaned the break, applied the glue in a thin even line, and pressed the two pieces together.

“Hold this,” I said, guiding his small fingers to the right spot. “Keep steady pressure on it, but don’t squeeze too hard.”

He held it seriously, his brows furrowed with concentration as he held on to the train like his life depended on it.

We sat like that for four minutes without talking. I kept glancing at the join, checking the alignment and making small adjustments, while Martin kept his eyes on the train the entire time, barely blinking.

“Okay,” I said finally. “Let go slowly.”

He did, and the little toy train held together.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank goodness. Because that thing was probably super expensive, like everything else in the house and I definitely could afford to replace it.

Martin picked it up, urned it over in his hands and examined every angle with complete thoroughness.

Then he set it back down and looked at me with a smile, saying, “Thank you, Miss!”

Aww, how precious. I was just about to say, “You’re welcome when he asked,

“Are you my brother’s girlfriend?”

Wait what?