Gabrielle's Bully (Young Adult Romance) Read online

  “There should be one around somewhere, maybe up in my room. Want me to look?”

  “Would you?”

  She uncoiled herself from the easy chair and left me to the unfunny antics of the comedian on the tube.

  Barb returned a few minutes later with the little green book, stapled like a pamphlet. “I can’t believe I found it,” she said. “It was right where it was supposed to be and I’m not used to that.”

  I knew what she meant. Barbara’s bedroom was like her locker at school, except on a grander scale.

  The penalty for fighting was exactly what I feared, suspension. The duration of the suspension was at the discretion of the administrator, and after witnessing Mr. Jackman’s reaction I feared that it wouldn’t be a short term. During suspension you were not allowed to make up any missed work and you received an automatic failure on all tests. In other words, if they suspended you long enough they guaranteed that you flunked your courses. Both Jeff and Heath were seniors. If Jackman decided to throw the book at them neither one of them would graduate.

  I felt an overwhelming sense of rage at Jeff’s bullying stupidity. I didn’t care if he threw himself down a well, but he was dragging Heath along with him.

  Barbara read my face. “Not good, huh?”

  I recited the phrasing verbatim from the handbook.

  “Oh, boy. I hope Jackman has an attack of charity tomorrow morning.”

  Margie returned to say that Heath was showering. She had a lab report to write and went out to the kitchen to work.

  “I gave Heath one of Dad’s shirts, his was a mess,” she said in parting. “And try to get him to eat something. After that fight his glycogen must be really depleted, and he could feel weak or pass out if he doesn’t get some carbohydrates into his system.”

  “We should never have sent her to nursing school,” Barb commented darkly.

  “Don’t say that,” I answered. “She was really helpful tonight.”

  “You don’t have to live with her. All she does is lecture us on our poor nutritional habits, and thanks to her any number of tasty items have vanished from the menu around here. She’s convinced my mother that she’s poisoning us if we don’t have three balanced meals a day. Goodbye pizza, chili dogs, and tacos, hello cottage cheese and whole grain bread.”

  “You seem to be surviving,” I replied.

  “Mike is very good about providing a fast food fix whenever I need one.”

  We looked up as Heath entered, his hair still wet, wearing Mr. Collier’s outsized shirt tucked into his pants. It billowed out from his waist like a kite in the wind.

  “Very attractive,” Barb said. “I think you should wear it to school tomorrow.”

  “I should wear sackcloth and ashes to school tomorrow,” Heath said, defeated by the prospect. “I’m going to get it.”

  Now that he had revived, he was thinking about the consequences of his actions.

  “My sister says that you should eat,” Barb said. “That means if you don’t, she’ll force feed you.”

  “Okay,” Heath answered.

  “I’ll warm up the spaghetti,” Barb announced, heading for the kitchen.

  Left alone, Heath and I looked at one another.

  “Another fine mess I’ve gotten us into,” Heath said, smiling weakly.

  “You look better,” I said.

  “I’m glad to hear it. There was only one way to go.”

  “You always look wonderful to me,” I said.

  Heath closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, they were bright with unshed tears. “Gaby, you are too good to be true.” He came and sat next to me on the couch, putting his head on my shoulder and his arms around my waist. I held him as if he were a child.

  When Barbara came back and saw us, she turned away as if to leave again. I shook Heath, whose face was hidden and who couldn’t see her.

  “Come on,” I said sternly. “Time to eat.”

  We escorted him to the kitchen and watched while he downed a plate of pasta and two rolls with a glass of milk. He did all right for somebody who wasn’t hungry.

  I realized that it was late, and called home to say that I would be back shortly. My mother didn’t seem to think anything of my absence, and I was glad. I really couldn’t handle another confrontation.

  Margie said she would drive us home, and Heath said goodbye to Barbara before we left.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he began, “you’ve been so good to me.”

  Barbara was embarrassed. “Don’t think anything of it,” she muttered, obviously hoping that he wouldn’t prolong the agony.

  He sensed her discomfort, and so just thanked her and went out with me.

  Margie passed Heath’s place first, and he thanked her also before saying to me, “I’ll see you after Mackley’s class.”

  He would know his fate by then.

  When I got home I chatted with my mother, as I usually did, to convince her everything was normal, and then went upstairs and fell into bed with my clothes on.

  The next thing I knew, it was morning.

  * * *

  Heath was absent from trig class, which meant that his interview with Mr. Jackman had run overtime. I didn’t know what to do at the end of class, so I just stood in the hall outside the door, hoping that he would show up there when he was finished.

  He did. He came down the hall toward me, waving his suspension slip.

  “Two weeks,” he said. “Beginning tomorrow.”

  I went limp with relief. “Two weeks isn’t bad. You’ll still be able to pass.”

  “They’re holding up my college applications until it’s over,” he said.

  I didn’t want to think about his college applications. If he went away to school. . . well, I would deal with that when I had to.

  “I thought you would get more,” I said.

  “Lafferty got three weeks.”

  I stared at him, surprised. “Why?”

  Heath rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re not going to believe this. Mike and Jeff’s girl, the one with the Greek name ...”

  “Daphne?”

  “Right. Daphne. They both went to see Jackman this morning, to tell him that Jeff goaded me into the fight, that he started it.”

  He was right. I didn’t believe it. Mike, sure, but Daphne? Would wonders never cease.

  “And Lafferty,” Heath went on, “you wouldn’t have believed him, either. He admitted that he tripped me that first time, at the tryouts ...”

  “I remember.” How could I forget?

  “... and he said that he was sorry he picked on me, because none of it would have happened if he hadn’t hounded me into it.”

  Heath seemed stunned. I could well imagine why. It appeared he had acquired some unexpected allies.

  “Why do you suppose he confessed like that?” I asked.

  “Beats me. Maybe he thought it would go easier on him if he came clean, maybe he is really sorry. Who knows? That guy is a mystery to me, always has been. Why somebody who didn’t even know me should hate me so much . . .” He let the sentence trail off, bewildered.

  “What happens now?”

  “I’m supposed to finish out the day, and my father has to go to a conference with Jackman before I can be readmitted. He’s going to be real happy about that.”

  “Will he ground you, or anything like that?”

  “Probably. He’s very big on discipline, having none himself.”

  The implications of this were beginning to hit home. “Then I won’t see you,” I said. “Not at school, or outside either.”

  He met my eyes. “I guess not.”

  I fell into step beside him and walked along in silence. It was going to be a long two weeks.

  * * *

  Heath’s father did exactly what Heath expected. He was not allowed out of the house and was not permitted phone calls or visitors. While Heath’s father would not be around to enforce this ban, Roger was instructed that his employer�
�s wishes were to be carried out to the letter. And Roger was a very dutiful employee.

  The fourteen days without him were an eternity. I went to school and to practices and had two games, one home, one away. I read books and watched television, I even played chess with my father and helped Craig with his models. I was home so much my mother began to look at me strangely and ask about my health a lot. She must have noticed that Heath wasn’t calling, and that I hadn’t been out with him, but she didn’t ask about it. She was probably hoping that we’d broken up, but at least she was tactful enough not to pry.

  The edict was lifted on a Wednesday, and I dressed for school in high spirits, humming and fussing with my hair. I would see him today. Hooray, hooray.

  He wasn’t there. When he didn’t show up for trig, I thought maybe he had been excused from class, but I checked with Mike and he hadn’t been in two of his other classes either.

  I panicked. What had happened? Had his father transferred him again? Had they refused to accept him back? Had he vanished from the face of the earth? By the time I got home from school I was very upset.

  The house was empty. There was a note from my mother on the kitchen table saying she had taken Craig to the dentist. I was reaching for the phone to call Heath’s house when I heard a car outside.

  It was Heath’s VW. I yanked open the door and ran down the path, flinging myself on him the minute he got out of the car.

  “Where were you today?” I asked, when I could talk. “I was so worried.”

  “Come inside,” he said, tugging me along, “you’ll freeze without a coat.” He hustled me through the door and shut it behind us.

  “I was in court,” he said, answering my question.

  “In court!” Dear lord, what now? “Why?”

  “I’m challenging my father’s custody,” he said simply.

  “I’ll be eighteen in six weeks, and that’s majority in this state. I’m tired of being pushed around by somebody who doesn’t care about me anyway, who regards me as a possession to be maintained, like his cars and his boats. This bit with the suspension really finished me. Locking me in that condo like some prisoner. Do you know what he did once he issued his edict? He flew off to the Bahamas with his girl friend and called Roger every night to make sure I was still in chains.” He kicked my father’s chair savagely, and I jumped at his vehemence.

  “What will you do?”

  “I get the money my mother left me when I’m eighteen, I can live on that. I only kept quiet until today so my father would go to the school and get me back in. As soon as he did, I called my mother’s lawyer and asked him to get me a hearing.”

  “Heath, I think your father loves you, in his way,” I said quietly. “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”

  Heath looked around the room as if searching for answers written on the walls. “No, I’m not. I’m not sure of anything.” He looked at me again. “Except the way I feel about you.” He gathered me in his arms and murmured in my ear, “I’ve been so lonely. So lonely.”

  “So have I.”

  I tugged at his coat and it fell to the floor. I had missed him so much, the feel and taste of him, his warmth and strength, his unique, unmistakable scent. I kissed him again and again, and he picked me up and carried me to the sofa. We fell on it in a tangle of limbs.

  I couldn’t think, everything was in confusion. It only seemed important that I get close, closer, and I ran my hands under his sweater, seeking his skin. He pushed me down and moved over me, wiry, heavy, but it was the sweetest burden I’d ever felt. I was lost in him, kissing, touching, there was nothing else in my world but Heath.

  The sound of my mother’s car in the driveway brought me back to my senses. I sat up, pushing him away, and struggled to my feet. What had we been doing, what had I been doing? My face was on fire, and when I pressed my hands to it, they felt cold.

  “My mother’s here,” I said. “You’d better go.”

  He put his hand on my arm. “Gaby ...”

  “You’d better go,” I repeated.

  Heath picked up his coat and went to the door, “I’ll call you later,” he said as he left.

  I didn’t answer. As soon as the door closed behind him I ran upstairs so my mother wouldn’t see me when she came in. I was sure the evidence of my guilt was showing in my face.

  I heard her calling me from the foot of the stairs.

  “I’m up here,” I said, walking into the hall so she could hear me.

  “Didn’t I see Heath’s car out front as I came in?” she asked.

  “Yes. He left as you were coming in the back way.”

  She digested that for a moment, and then said, “He hasn’t been around for a while,”

  “His father was away,” I said vaguely, which was true enough.

  There was another short silence, then, “Give me those clothes that need to be washed. I’m going to do some laundry.”

  “All right.” I was happy to comply with this request. It gave me something to do and sent my mother back to her chores.

  I glanced at myself in the mirror and was startled. My eyes looked wild, and my face was still deeply flushed. I leaned against the dresser and tried to calm down. What was I going to do? What scared me most was what might have happened if my mother hadn’t returned when she did. If I continued to see Heath, it would happen again, I knew it. There was no help for me, I had to make this decision myself. I was sure Barbara had never felt like this, I was sure no one else I knew my age had felt like this. I would have to be strong or I knew I would be sorry.

  I brought my laundry downstairs, and then sat in the den and thought about what I would say to Heath when he called.

  * * *

  The phone rang at seven-thirty. I had gone to my room after dinner and waited, so that I would have the privacy of the upstairs extension.

  I picked up the phone when my mother said it was for me, and listened for the click to be sure she was off the line.

  “Gaby, it’s me,” Heath said.

  I swallowed, gripping the phone so tightly that my fingers were turning white.

  “Are you there?” Heath said anxiously.

  “Heath, I don’t think we should see each other for a while,” I said, dropping the bomb without any preparation. I was very tactless when I was upset.

  But it was clear that he had been expecting to hear something like this. “Gaby, wait a minute,” he said calmly. “Think about what you’re saying.”

  “I know what I’m saying,” I sobbed, on the verge of tears. “I’m afraid, don’t you understand that? I’m afraid.”

  “I promise I won’t ...” he began, and I cut him off.

  “Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep,” I wailed. “This is all too much, too fast, too serious. We’re too young and I’m not ready. I can’t handle it.”

  “I realize that I’m responsible, but can’t we talk about this? Can’t we get together and see what’s to be done?”

  “What’s to be done!” I cried, almost laughing. “I know what’s to be done, and I’m doing it.”

  Heath’s voice changed as he realized that he was not going to be able to talk me out of this. “Gaby, please. Please listen to me.”

  I couldn’t bear to hear him beg. “No. Just don’t call me anymore, all right? Goodbye.”

  He was still talking when I hung up on him. I knew that he would try to call me back, so I left the phone off the hook, sticking the receiver in the drawer of the stand. My father’s clients would just have to try again.

  Then I went to my room, locked the door, and flung myself on the bed. I cried until I fell asleep.

  Chapter 10

  I took the coward’s way out and faked illness for two days, so I could stay out of school through the weekend. I was rarely absent, so my mother didn’t suspect anything, and in a way I was sick. Heartsick, sick at heart.

  Barbara came over on Friday afternoon to find out what was going on. She said Heath had stopped her in the ha
ll to ask about me. Didn’t he know? Why was he pumping her for information?

  I blurted out the whole story to her, while she sat in stunned silence.

  “So I told him I didn’t want to see him,” I finished. “I couldn’t imagine what else to do.”

  “That was sort of drastic, don’t you think?” Barb responded. Then her voice became softer and she said, “Poor Heath.”

  I started to cry. “Poor Heath, poor Gaby, poor both of us.”

  “How can you do it?” she asked. “You love him so much.”

  She wasn’t helping, she was only making me feel worse. “Thanks for cheering me up, Barb,” I said, seeing the humor of it even in this situation.

  “Well, what’s your plan?” she asked. “To stay out of school for the rest of your life?”

  “I’ll be back on Monday.”

  “What are you going to do when you see him?”

  “I don’t know! Do you think I have all this mapped out? I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “That’s obvious.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “Fine, fine, get mad. That will be a big help. All I’m saying is that if you let him get away, you’ll be regretting it when you’re eighty years old.”

  “I’m regretting it right now,” I said in a small voice.

  Barbara sighed and produced a thermometer from her pocket. “Your mother asked me to take your temperature,” she said.

  “Barbara, don’t be ridiculous. You know I’m not sick.”

  “I told her I would do it, and I will,” she said stubbornly, jamming it between my teeth.

  I yanked it out. “Just tell her it’s normal. That’s no lie. It’s been normal for three days.”

  She slid off the bed and took the thermometer from my hand. “I’ll bring this back downstairs. I hope you’re in a better mood when I return.”

  There wasn’t much chance of that.

  * * *

  I spent a miserable weekend moping around the house, and was a bundle of nerves by the time Monday morning rolled around. I sat through my morning classes without hearing a thing, and walked to trig in a fog of apprehension.

  I was in my seat when Heath walked in. He looked over at me, his green eyes intent, and paused for a second, then walked on and took his place. I felt the ache of tears in my throat at the very sight of him. He looked so good, his neat, quiet self, and I missed him more than I could bear.