Straightened-15
2021 Words
“It sounds like it shouldn’t have been quite that big of a deal, but when Mom finally kicked Lessa out of our room, things started to deteriorate fast. I mean, it was probably a whole lot of causes at once, but back then I remember thinking it was the room issue that started it all. Lessa stopped doing things with me. Stopped climbing trees or racing outside or swimming in the lake in the evenings. We went a couple years where she hardly talked to me at all. Just focused on her sewing and her cooking and her cleaning. She was thirteen when I came to this crazy realization. I realized, Hey, my sister’s a girl. Sounds pretty dumb when you put it like that, but up until then, she’d just been my sister. Someone to play with. Someone to force me to swim faster than I ever thought I could, racing from the far side of the lake to the other. It didn’t matter that she was a girl and I was a boy. At least not until Mom started making such a big deal about it. So Lessa was thirteen, and she was wearing this sundress that she’d made, and she was leaning down to pick some weeds in the garden, and I said to myself, Hey, my sister’s a girl. And that realization right there seemed to explain everything that’d been happening for the past couple years that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. All those extra chores. How Mom would ride her if she didn’t have what she called a ‘cheerful disposition’ about everything. Those hours of Bible verses Mom made her copy out if Lessa even hinted at talking back. Why we couldn’t share a room anymore or go swimming anymore unless someone else was out there watching us, and even then Lessa had to cover up her swimsuit with one of Dad’s extra-large T-shirts. I could go around the whole camp all day in just my swim trunks and no one would think twice about it, but even to walk from our cabin to the lake, Lessa had to have one towel wrapped around her waist to cover her legs and one more draped over her shoulders to hide everything else.
“There were rules for everything. Rules about who she could or couldn’t be alone with, rules about who she could or couldn’t talk to without getting dad’s permission first. Rules about how long her skirts had to be, how much of her shoulders had to be covered even in the hottest summer days when no one else was around.”
Nick was quiet for a while. Kennedy wondered if he had lost his train of thought or if he was absorbed in his own musings.
“She ran away when she was sixteen. Left me a note — nothing for my parents, but a long letter to me. I still have it. She asked me not to show it to Mom and Dad, and I never did. All she wanted them to know was that she was safe and she didn’t ever plan to come home. And she never did.”
The apostle heads bobbled stupidly. Kennedy would have given up her entire Shakespeare collection for the chance to throw them out the bus window, them and their annoying grins.
“I’m sure psychologists and theologians could have a field day dissecting my sister’s story, arguing about whether it was that rigid upbringing that made her feel so ashamed of who she was as a girl that turned her into a lesbian or if she would’ve headed down that route no matter what. She didn’t talk about it in that letter she left me. It’s not like she was even in the closet at that point. I just think she was so confused she didn’t know what to think about herself or her body or her sexuality or anything. Her whole life, from about the age of eight or nine on, it had all been a list of rules. Rules she had to follow because God had made her a girl. Rules that made her feel ashamed of her body, rules that focused so much on keeping men from lusting after her that she grew to hate everything about who she was. She was a binge eater by the time she left home. Still skinny as a rail — you’ve seen her picture — even if she packed away six or seven thousand calories a day, but I think either consciously or subconsciously she was trying to sabotage herself. Turn herself into the kind of person men would be less likely to notice so she wouldn’t feel so guilty for drawing the wrong kind of attention.”
They were back in Nick’s neighborhood now. The van slowed down as its headlights lit up the apartment building ahead of them. “Anyway, sorry for blabbing your ear off. I don’t even remember how we got started on this topic.”
Kennedy didn’t remember, either. All she knew was she was tired. Physically tired from her grueling day of travel yesterday, and emotionally tired from everything that had happened since she landed in the States. If this was any indication of what her sophomore year would be like, it was going to be a long nine months.
Nick parked, and she dragged herself out of the bus. His apartment was on the third story. Thank God for elevators, she thought as she forced her legs to uphold her weight.
Rest. That’s all she wanted. Even if she couldn’t fall asleep. Just the chance to shut her eyes. Turn off her brain, which had been reeling ever since she learned about Wayne Abernathy’s death.
Nick unlocked the main door to his apartment building as quietly as he could. It was almost five in the morning. Kennedy hoped everyone would still be asleep when they got upstairs. She wondered if Woong would remember anything of his night terrors when he woke up.
She followed Nick into the elevator. Neither said anything. Kennedy could almost feel the gravity from his couch pulling her toward it as the elevator let them off on the third-floor hallway.
A figure in a hooded sweatshirt sat huddled in front of Nick’s door. He glanced up, his eyes swollen and puffy and full of so much pain Kennedy was momentarily paralyzed.
“Noah?”
The boy sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’m sorry I came here. I didn’t know where else to go. Please. You have to help me. I made a huge mistake.”
CHAPTER 20Kennedy was glad Nick was there. Nick was the one Noah was looking at with those terrified, pleading eyes.
“I need help.”
She could tell Noah was trying to keep his voice calm, but it wasn’t working. A few hours earlier, Kennedy had been impressed with the way Nick could plant himself in the middle of stress, tragedy, and chaos and stay so quiet and serene. Now, she’d wish he’d hurry up and say something.
Anything.
What was he waiting for? Either he needed to call the cops and let them know he’d found Noah, or he needed to barrage Noah with questions so they could figure out exactly what had happened to his father.
Instead, he stood there, assessing the scene with his head c****d to one side, frowning sympathetically while Noah sat curled up in a little ball.
“We better find some place more private to talk.”
That was it. All Nick could offer. Kennedy wanted to scream and pull out her hair. Or pull out Nick’s hair, maybe. One dread at a time. We better find some place more private to talk? That was the best he could do? Even after he spoke the words, Nick stood there with his arms crossed as if he had all the time in the world. As if Noah’s father hadn’t been murdered. As if his mother hadn’t confessed to the crime. As if Noah weren’t the prime suspect in several other cases of arson and assault committed throughout the night.
Nick frowned. Had he forgotten how to speak? Had his sad trip down memory lane during the drive here slowed down his brain functioning? Had he forgotten how serious of a situation they were in?
How deadly?
“It’s not too chilly out,” Nick finally said, as if Noah had simply stopped by one afternoon to pay a social call. “Let’s all go up to the balcony. We can talk there.”
Another silent elevator ride, five more floors up. Nick spun his lanyard keychain around his finger one way and then the other. Kennedy felt dizzy. She didn’t bother calculating what meal it would be time for if she were still in Yanji. All she knew was that she was hungry for something. But she wasn’t about to miss getting answers from Noah in order to chase down a vending machine or scour Nick’s apartment for something at least partially edible.
Once the three of them were seated around a big patio table on the roof, Nick clasped his hands behind his head and stretched his legs onto the chair across from him. “So, what can you tell me about tonight?”
Kennedy tried not to lean in. Tried not to show how eager she was to hear what Noah would have to say. Tried to act as inconspicuous as possible so the other two wouldn’t realize how unfitting it was for her to be there right now.
“I made a huge mistake,” Noah began, and Kennedy clenched her jaw shut. Had Drisklay been right, then? Was Noah really the one who had killed his father? Was she about to hear the entire confession?
“That’s the amazing thing about grace,” Nick answered. “There’s nothing we can do to make God love us any less. Nothing we can do to make him take away the forgiveness Jesus bought with his own blood.”
Kennedy bit her lip so she wouldn’t start screaming. Didn’t he realize he was talking to a murder suspect?
Noah’s fingers fidgeted with the tops of his pants legs. “I’m not talking about cheating on a test or sneaking out and going partying. I’m talking about the really bad stuff. The stuff that gets you sent to jail.”
See? Kennedy wanted to yell. He doesn’t need church platitudes. What he needed was a good lawyer.
Nick looked just as relaxed as if he were watching half a dozen youth group kids playing X-box and trashing his living room. “First of all, God doesn’t dump sins into categories. There’s no such thing as a big sin and a tiny sin. All sin is equally horrendous in his sight. Whether you tell a little white lie or set off a bomb that kills a hundred people, neither one of those is too small for God to overlook or too horrendous for him to forgive. Second of all ...” He reached above his head and let out a noisy yawn. “Sorry. I guess we’re all pretty tired here. Second of all,” he repeated, “I’m really touched that you came to me. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough that you ...”
“I got in a fight.” Noah looked like a caged lion about to attack the bars that confined him.
Nick shut his mouth. A confused, questioning look darkened his face. The same kind of confusion that was sloshing around in Kennedy’s gut.
“You got in a fight?” Nick repeated. “Like a yelling fight or a fistfight?”
“A fistfight. A pretty bad one. I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Noah glanced over both shoulders as if he expected a helicopter to shine its blinding searchlights on him at any moment. “I think they’re after me. I just can’t bring myself to go home and tell my parents what happened. They’d be so ...”
Noah stopped. He stared at Nick.
“What?” The lilt in his voice matched the sinking feeling in Kennedy’s stomach. “What?” Noah repeated. “What’s going on?” He looked to Kennedy.
Nick sighed. “Listen, brother. I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to promise to give me a truthful answer. No matter what. Got that?”
Noah swallowed. Fear and uncertainty were etched into his features. He gave a small nod.
Nick leaned forward in his chair. “I need to know exactly where you’ve been all night.”
CHAPTER 21Noah stared into his lap. Was he trying to conjure up some sort of lie? He couldn’t meet Nick’s gaze, but his eyes settled somewhere around his shoulder. “I was at the Lucky Star.”
Kennedy had never heard of the place but could tell how painful it was for Noah to admit. She tried to gauge Nick’s reaction.
“I wasn’t going there to get picked up or anything,” Noah added hastily. “I was looking for somebody, and I ...” He cut himself off. “Maybe I should start from the beginning.”
- Writer
