Hearts In Winter Collection

Chapter 8

Sheridan took a week off from school trying to come to grips with what had happened. Erin, however, returned on Monday. Winding her way through a herd of freshmen milling around the cafeteria, she ducked past the hallway monitor and made her way to the counselor"s office.

Ignoring the empty secretary"s desk, she crept down the hallway, shoes swishing along a faded carpet that had once had a pattern of tiny blue and gray squares, now almost indistinguishable. The school"s central heating system clicked on, and with a roar, blasted hot air from vents in the ceiling, immediately warming her chilly skin until she broke out in a sweat. She slipped into the familiar, glass-fronted cubicle of an office.

Mrs. Carroll, the counselor who handled last names beginning with the letters H-O, tugged off her jacket and blazer and opened the window a crack. A waft of fresh, outdoor air lightened the sultry atmosphere.

“Good morning,” Erin said in a soft voice.

“Erin, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Carroll demanded in friendly exasperation.

“I need to change my schedule,” Erin replied.

Mrs. Carrol frowned. “Why? It"s a bit late in the semester, hon. You"re going to run into problems if you take on something new.”

Erin shook her head. “It won"t be a problem. I want to drop A.P. chemistry and take regular instead.”

The older woman"s face twisted further in confusion. She lifted a sheaf of papers and fanned herself with them. “What will that accomplish? Are you struggling? There are A.P. tutors, you know.”

Erin compressed her lips. “I have a B in that class so far. Did you hear about Sheridan?”

Mrs. Carroll lowered her gaze. “I had hoped it was just a rumor.”

“No. I was there… right after. I know what happened.” Her eyes burned in a way that had nothing to do with a horrible waft of exhaust that had filtered in the window, belched out of the rear end of a late-arriving jalopy. The car backfired and then settled in with a groan.

“Anyway, I don"t want Sheridan to have any more classes without me than is necessary. I know she"s got all those English electives and I have music, but if I take regular chemistry with her, we"ll have all our core classes together. It will also make it easier for me to get her homework to her until she can come back, and then if she has any... trouble, I can keep her on track.” Erin blurted her plan out fast, hoping to avoid interruption, and it worked.

Mrs. Carroll stared, her mouth slightly open, the breeze disarranging her carefully placed curls. She scrunched the tea-colored strands back into place carelessly, causing them to stand on end. “You have it all figured out, don"t you, Erin? You"re quite a friend. But what about you? What about your AP credit?”

“I don"t like chemistry that much,” Erin replied. “It would be nice to get college credit for it, but it’s not that big a deal?”

Mrs. Carroll nodded. “All right then.” She settled on her chair and fired up the computer.

“Will Mr. Jones be available? I don"t think this is going to go well. She’s sure to need the social worker on hand to help her.”

Mrs. Carroll bit her lip. “I hate that this happened. Mr. Jones will be prepared for her to come in. In fact, I"ll suggest he allow her to use the conference room if she needs to… get away from everyone. You"re welcome to come with her.”

Erin smiled, but sadly. “That"s a good idea. I"ll let her know.”

“Danny?” Erin called, tapping on the door of her best friend"s bedroom with the toe of her sneaker. “Danny, can you help, please? My hands are full.”

Sheridan opened the door. Erin winced at the sight of the still-livid bruise on her cheek. The cut stood out bright red in the center of it.

“That was his class ring,” Sheridan said in a flat voice.

“I"m sorry. I didn"t mean to stare.” Mortified, Erin could feel her face burning, but her hands were so full of books she couldn"t do anything about it.

“I"d better get used to people staring. Come on in. What do you have there?”

She sounds like a zombie. A sob tried to climb its way out of Erin"s throat, but she swallowed it down again. Be strong. You don"t get to be the sensitive one anymore. “I have your homework. Chemistry, A.P. English, poetry, and trig. Lucky you.” Her attempt at cheer sounded false even to her own ears.

She sounds like a zombie.Be strong. You don"t get to be the sensitive one anymore.“Joy,” Sheridan sighed. “Well, at least it"s normal. I had almost forgotten what normal was like.”

“What did you do today?” Erin asked, setting the stack on Sheridan"s bed.

“Counseling,” Sheridan replied. “It sucks. Have you ever pulled out an ingrown toenail or popped a deep zit?”

“Yes,” Erin nodded cautiously, wondering where this was going.

“Counseling is like that. It hurts like hell while you"re doing it, and it hurts like hell when you"re done, but at least it relieves some pressure.” All this Sheridan delivered without the slightest change in expression or intonation.

That monster. Every day that went by, Erin came to realize more how a single act could have repercussions that rippled on and on forever.

That monster.“I"m not looking forward to what comes next,” Sheridan said, sinking to the floor where she sat, arms wrapped around her knees.

“What"s that?” Erin asked, joining her and unconsciously mimicking her pose.

“Tomorrow, instead of the counselor, we"re consulting with a lawyer whose house Dad fixed a few years back. He can help me… with the trial.”

“So, you"re definitely pressing charges then?” Erin asked. “Good.”

“Yes,” Sheridan replied. “Of course. If there"s anything good left in the world, it"s that he"s behind bars and can"t come near me.”

“You"ll win too,” Erin said. “I"ll testify if it will help. No one should ever have to see him or be afraid of him again.”

Sheridan inhaled a gasping breath and blew it out. “Enough of that. What"s up with chemistry?”

Midnight had come and gone by the time Erin made her way home. The living room light, which she distinctly remembered turning off before she left that morning, spilled yellow light onto the night-dark grass.

Cautiously she opened the door. Her mother, Valerie, sat on the sofa, sending text messages on her cell phone. “Oh, there you are,” she said, glancing at her daughter for a second before lowering her eyes back to the screen. “Where were you?”

“Do I suddenly have a curfew I don"t know about?” Erin drawled. “I was taking Danny her homework, and I stayed to help her.”

“Until 12:37 at night? Really?” This time, Valerie made no attempt at eye contact.

“Yes.”

“Was she sick or something?”

Wow. I never thought to call her. Erin rubbed her eyes. Her bed down the hall seemed to call to her, and she could still smell Sean"s cologne on the sheets. “She"s not sick. Something terrible happened.”

Wow. I never thought to call her.“What"s that?”

Can you pretend to care, Mother? Can you look up or at least use a tone of voice that shows you"re paying attention? “Danny"s boyfriend raped her. He beat the crap out of her too.”

Can you pretend to care, Mother? Can you look up or at least use a tone of voice that shows you"re paying attention?“Hmmmm.” Clearly, her mother had already stopped listening.

“Good night, Mom.” Shaking her head, Erin left for the bedroom. Once again, she chafed at being unable simply to walk away from her family and take care of herself. Too bad my symphony job only pays for gas and car insurance. It"s not enough to live on. For the time being, I guess I"m stuck.

Too bad my symphony job only pays for gas and car insurance. It"s not enough to live on. For the time being, I guess I"m stuck.Erin firmly put thoughts of Sean out of her mind until later for the hundredth time and concentrated on taking notes over Macbeth. She glanced beside her at her friend. Sheridan looked pale and strained but tried hard to pay attention. The horrible bruise on her face had faded to a sickening yellow, although the cut remained livid.

Macbeth“Remember, guys,” Mr. Hernandez nagged with a good-natured grin, “essays are due on Tuesday. Late work will not be accepted, and do try to move beyond identifying theme, tone and mood. You need to make an argument and defend it.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Remember the Toulmin model and your Aristotle. And remember, I have five A.P. classes worth of essays to read. Don"t be boring.”

The class laughed. The bell rang, and they began packing up their notebooks and binders. Then the girls rose, turned left at the doorway and headed down the hall to government.

“After English, government is such a letdown,” Erin complained, trying to act normal. “Talk about boring. Most days the only thing I remember is the sun shining on Mr. Milligan"s bald spot.”

“I still hope to pass the A.P. exam,” Sheridan replied. “At least I could get out of PoliSci in college. Take some other courses.”

“If I know you, you"ll take more English classes,” Erin teased. “Good luck. I"m not even going to attempt the exam. I"ll be lucky to pass the class.”

“A B isn"t failing, you goof,” Sheridan teased back, a ghost of her former smile creasing her lips as they passed the commons, a meeting of the corridors where the cafeteria and offices resided.

B“b***h,” a feminine voice hissed at them.

“Shut up.” Erin glared at Lindsey Jones.

The head cheerleader’s smooth ponytail swished as she focused on Erin, returning the glower, red lips pouting. A bit too much cleavage peeked out of her dress.

Sheridan turned from Erin to Lindsey, puzzled. “What?”

“It"s nothing, Danny. Ignore her,” Erin urged, tugging Sheridan"s arm to keep her friend moving down the hallway.

Sheridan planted her heels and turned to address Lindsey directly. “What did I do?”

“You put Jake in jail,” the girl sneered as though talking to an i***t. “Now there"s no way our football team can make the playoffs. He"s going to miss his senior year because of you.”

Sheridan squinted in silent confusion.

Lindsey continued. “It"s your fault, you know. If you weren"t such a prude, this wouldn"t have happened.” She accompanied her words with a snotty toss of her perfect hair.

Erin pushed herself between them, forcing Lindsey to look at her. “Shut up!” she snarled. “It"s her choice, stupid. Don"t you know anything? If either partner doesn"t want to, the conversation"s over.” She thought a moment and added, “Plus it"s none of your business. Come on, Danny.” Erin took her friend"s arm and led her away towards the government classroom. Once they moved out of the congested central hub, the student traffic flowed more smoothly.

“Does everyone know?” Sheridan asked in a tiny, wavering voice.

“Pretty much,” Erin replied, wishing she could lie. “I"m sorry.”

“How many are against me?” She bit her quivering lip.

Erin gave Sheridan"s arm a little squeeze. “Hard to say. Jake"s popular, you know? But I"m here. I"ve got your back, sweetie.”

“Thanks.” Sheridan seemed more shaken than ever. As though everything that had happened weren"t bad enough, to discover her classmates had turned on her was the final straw. Erin had known it would be.

By lunchtime, Sheridan"s fragile composure hung in tatters. Erin walked her to the counselor"s office where Sheridan spent her free period in tears. Erin stayed with her, rubbing her back and trying to support her friend.

The day passed every bit as horribly as Erin had expected. Several people made ugly comments to Sheridan. Despite her well-earned reputation for shyness, Erin fiercely defended her friend, but that hardly slowed the flow of abuse. At last, the final bell rang, releasing them from their newly-shared chemistry class. Sheridan washed out a test tube while Erin packed up the pipettes. “Do you need me to go home with you today?” she asked.

“You have rehearsal,” Sheridan replied firmly. “I"ll be fine. Mom is there.”

“But the parking lot,” Erin reminded her. “Assholes will be out there. At least you have to let me walk you to the car.”

Sheridan rolled her shoulders, which Erin took for assent. The two of them walked down the hall to the locker they shared and pulled out a pair of letterman jackets—Erin"s for band and Sheridan"s for UIL. Then they made their way into the cold, autumn afternoon.

Erin fixed a fierce scowl on her face, daring anyone to comment. Though ugly whispers filtered their way, no one attempted an outright confrontation. She sighed with relief, allowing her expression to relax when they arrived at the Murphys" spare station wagon. “You sure you"re all right?”

“Get to rehearsal,” Sheridan ordered. “I can drive home, you silly goose. I"m not broken.”

Erin frowned at the waver in her friend"s voice but nodded. She is broken, but she doesn"t want to be. I hope I’m helping and not overstepping. She waited until Sheridan shut the driver"s door and fired the ignition before scooting back into the building.

She is broken, but she doesn"t want to be. I hope I’m helping and not overstepping.She arrived at the band hall a couple of minutes late, but Mr. Abrams didn"t say a word.

Erin sank into her chair, exhausted, and poured the last fragile remnants of her stamina towards her music. When the rehearsal finally ended, she hurried home to call Sean.

“You sound terrible, baby,” he told her bluntly.

“I"m not bothering you, am I?” She rolled onto her back on the bed and laid her free arm over her aching eyes.

“Of course not. How did it go?”

“It"s worse than I imagined. I don"t know how I"m going to cope, let alone Danny. I hate being a teenager, Sean.” She struggled to control herself, tears warring with her pride. Stop whining, you twit. No one likes a whiner.

hateStop whining, you twit. No one likes a whiner.“You don"t have the temperament for it,” Sean said in an understanding voice. “You"ll feel better when you"re done with high school. I think you must have been born an adult.”

“That"s what my mom always said. She says I"m older than her,” Erin commented, trying to be lighthearted. Her gloomy tone undermined her attempt completely.

“That could well be,” Sean said seriously. “Is she there now?”

“Yes. I wish she weren"t. I would love for you to hold me.” Her voice broke again. Come on, damn it. Get a grip.

Come on, damn it. Get a grip.“I would if I could,” he said, sounding concerned. “Can you practice? Would that help?”

“I have no emotions left to give, not even to my oboe. I"m all wrung out.”

“Poor Erin. This is too much for you, isn"t it?”

She closed her eyes, struggling for control again. “I"m not the one going through it. I"m just trying to help. It"s what any friend would do.”

“Not any friend. Only a really special one.”

Sean"s kind words touched Erin deeply, and her feelings came spilling out of her unbidden. “I love you, Sean. You should know that. You don"t have to say anything back, but I do love you.”

“I know you do, Erin,” he replied tenderly. “You"re an amazing girl, and that means a lot to me.”

“I think I"m going to try and sleep for a while. Maybe the rest of the night.”

“Dream about me,” he urged.

“I always do.”

Erin skipped dinner, went to bed and cried herself to sleep.

Her mother never noticed anything was wrong.

“Dad, can I ask you something?” Sean said as the two of them unloaded hardwood flooring from the back of a royal blue Murphy Construction and Renovation pickup. He followed his father through the gaping doorway of the 125-year-old Victorian painted lady they were renovating.

Cold autumn air whistled around them as they traversed the yard, but working so hard, the men scarcely felt it. They handed the wood to the guys inside, who were repairing the water-damaged floor, and headed back out to the truck.

“Sure, Sean, what"s on your mind?”

“Do you think it"s wrong for me to be dating someone… younger?”

Roger looked at him, his eyebrow quirked. “You"re not very old yourself. How much younger?”

“Eighteen,” he replied.

“Are you sure she"s actually eighteen and not lying to you?”

Sean met his gaze without flinching. “Yes. There"s no question about that.”

“Well then,” Roger said in his slow, thoughtful voice, rubbing his hands together to warm them, “it depends on the girl. A lot of eighteen-year-olds are immature and don"t make good girlfriends for an adult. I think it"s possible there may be exceptions to that.”

“Oh yes,” Sean assured his father. “She"s much more mature than her age would suggest.”

“I imagine. Otherwise, I doubt you would be interested. Are you already dating?”

“Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?” his father suggested.

“Not really.”

Roger gave his son another questioning look, but Sean refused to comment further.

Roger sighed. “Fine. Just be careful with her. Be sure you plan to take your time and let this move slowly. Sometimes young girls think they"re ready for more than they are. Don"t let her give up her life in favor of a romance.”

“Of course not. That"s the last thing I want.”

.They gathered up another armful of boards and headed in again.