Making Plans

 

Chapter Ten

I never knew four little words could make my blood boil and pound in my ears barely a second after hearing them. I took a deep breath and clenched my fists to keep my hands from shaking, but Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, he’s not beating her or anything; he picks on her about everything she does, what she wears, who to hang out with…” Her grimace turned into a frown at that as I felt my body become ice-cold from the sudden lack of insane anger�"Ethan wasn’t physically abusing her. My heart stopped hammering against my ribs. It was emotional�"I knew that already, and I could try to help her if she needed it.

Sam opened her mouth to speak, but stopped and stared at me. “Are you all right?” she asked.

I nodded, forcing my face to relax into a calmer expression. “Yeah,” I answered, pushing my hair out of my eyes. “I just�"I can’t stand abusers,”

She grimaced. “Jess and I used to be pretty close, until she started getting involved with Ethan. She said their dads work together and they started talking at some company picnic�"who knows. She never seems like she’s telling me the truth about anything anymore. Anyway, that was over one summer, I think, and at first I didn’t care because if she was happy, that’s what mattered.” She popped a piece of gum into her mouth, offering me one. “My parents had just divorced, so I might have been a little clingy with Jess at first, but I never begged her to stay home from a date or asked to tag along. I started going to parties with my sister Friday nights so I’d have something to do while Jess was out. Then Ethan goes off to visit family in Louisiana so Jess came to a party with me and she got a little tipsy and insisted on trying one of my cigarettes�"she hated it. She told Ethan about it, thinking it was kind of funny, and he decided I was the devil and told her to stay away from me.”

I scowled a little at the thought�"Jess never quite did what he said concerning that, which I was happy about, but I remembered how nearly ashamed she seemed getting “caught” in Sam’s company at my party and my scowl deepened.

“I think he even tells her what to wear. She used to dress really casual�"jeans, T-shirts, whatever�"now she has clothes I’m sure she hates, even if she won’t say so,” Sam said disgustedly. “The worst thing is, I just don’t get it. Jess used to be the kind of person that would kick you in the teeth for telling her she’s not good enough the way she is, and now… I don’t know. I don’t get it. I don’t like it, either�"she acts so defeated sometimes, but if I try to talk to her she says everything’s fine and she needs to let me go.” Sam laid back onto a pile of dusty uniforms, stretching leisurely and closing her eyes.

I looked around the room to keep my eyes off the skintight sky-colored blouse she was wearing, taking in the sight of the thin carpet, the different sizes of the bass drums, and the stale tang of the uniforms she was laying on… Bad idea, I thought dimly as I forced my eyes upward to the lashes casting shadows on her cheek. “Are you in band?” I asked, trying to keep my attention averted.

Her lips twitched into a small smile, as if she was remembering something. “I was,” she said. “I played the drums. I miss the drumline sometimes, but I love being able to party Friday nights rather than having to spend them at overadvertised, overly-boring football games.” She opened her eyes and winked mischeviously at me. “One of the drumline’s slogans was, ‘save a drum, bang a drummer!’”

I laughed along with her, garnering us a few mild glares from the band students trying to practice. “I’ll be right back,” I said, standing up and brushing myself off. If I remembered correctly, there was a bathroom just outside of the hallway entrance… That last comment… I needed to wash my face and gain perspective.

I stepped out of the band hall, careful to keep the heavy door from slamming, when I heard a raised, familiar voice just out of sight by the hallway entrance. I tensed when I heard Jess’ voice answer, sneaking a little closer and straining to hear.

“I don’t see why you’re getting worked up about this, Ethan. It’s really not your place to tell me what to wear,” she said, a hint of that familiar caustic bite in her voice.

I heard footsteps�"Ethan was probably pacing. “You’re right, it’s not. It just seems like since you obviously can’t dress yourself, I’d offer a little help,” he snapped. “Nothing is wrong with Tyler; just wait and see. He probably just went off to bang some chick�"“

“Don’t you dare talk about Tyler like that!”

“Fine! Whatever! Just�"for God’s sake, wear something that’s actually nice tomorrow. I’m almost embarrassed to be seen with you like this.” More footsteps, fading away this time.

I walked out, looking for Jess, but didn’t find her. After a quick stop in the bathroom, I went back to the band hall with my mind made up about the argument�"if I couldn’t find Jess, then chances are she left with Ethan. If she didn’t come talk to me about it, then it wasn’t my place to step up and say something�"I’d have to admit to eavesdropping, for one. I was pretty sure Jess wouldn’t like that very much.

Admitting defeat, I went back to the band hall and sank down beside Sam again, who had a few friends around her talking and laughing�"other drumline members, I figured, seeing a pair of drumsticks in one’s hands. I sat down next to her, trying half-heartedly to keep from glaring at one guy who looked too old to be in high school for eyeing her. She talked animatedly, drawing me into a conversation full of inside jokes I didn’t understand, so I pretended to listen while daydreaming until the bell rang.

The next time I saw Jess, the hoodie was slung over her arm. She didn’t look mad or upset, which was a plus, and I resolved to keep an eye on her in case Ethan tried to gang up on her again. I couldn’t decide whether I should say something about earlier… I didn’t deliberately listen, but then again I could have walked away, or just kept going and let them talk it out behind me. Then again, I did tell Jess she could confide in me, so if she wanted to talk about it she would have said something, right?

I brushed the thoughts away. If she wanted to talk to me, she would. If not, she wouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t my place to simply butt in and expect her to spill her soul to me. Besides looking a little tired, she seemed fine anyway.

Brandon was staring into the pantry when I got home later that afternoon. He turned and nodded to me, going back to scrutinizing the half-filled shelves. “What do you say we just order some turkey from Brookshire’s for Thanksgiving?” he asked, leaning on the counter.

I shrugged, putting my book bag down on the dining table and pulling out my sketchbook. “That’s fine with me,” I said, shoving memories of Mom basting a turkey to the back of my mind. “As long as we have plenty of stuffing,” I added. Stuffing was the best part of Thanksgiving dinner, along with the mashed potatoes Mom insisted on making from scratch each year.

“Alex’s family lives in Florida and no one can afford the trip right now, so he’ll be having dinner with us,” Brandon said, flipping through an alarmingly thin phonebook. “We’ll go and visit Jules on Wednesday.”

I felt a small smile creep over my face at the prospect of seeing my mom. “Julia,” I corrected. “You know she doesn’t like Jules.”

Brandon snorted. “Exactly,” he chuckled. I raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly to myself. I guess I’d never really understand sibling rivalry. “On second thought, I’ll pick up something from that little country restaurant close to the hotel.” He flipped through the phonebook again.

I stuck around for a moment, unsure if he was done talking to me, but since all Brandon did was pick up the phone and place a last-minute order for Thanksgiving, I went to my room and turned on the radio, pulling out my sketchbook and doodling while I listened. There wasn’t any homework to do, thankfully, so I kept my cell phone out beside me in case someone called with something to do.

After about two hours of waiting with no calls, I figured nothing was happening that night and turned on the computer. I surfed the internet for a little while, feeling bored, when I decided to leave people comments on their Facebooks. I clicked on Sam’s first, taking the time to actually look through her profile, and noticed with a start that her birthday was coming up in about a week�"good thing I’d decided to look at her profile!

I made a mental note of the day, hoping I remembered to shop around for a gift for her. I went ahead and wrote down everyone else’s birthdays, so that I wasn’t caught off guard. Fortunately, Sam’s birthday fell on a Saturday, so unless she planned some sort of party, I’d be able to take her out to dinner or something. I wasn’t sure yet; I didn’t necessarily know what she liked. I thought back and realized Sam and I hadn’t actually gone on any dates, per se�"we just went to the different parties. She didn’t seem to be up for hanging out during the week, unless it was stopping somewhere after school to get food.

I resolved to ask her out to the movies or something later that week and played some computer games for a while until I was tired enough to go to bed. I wrapped up in the thick blue comforter and yawned widely before dropping off to sleep, wishing Wednesday would hurry up and get here.