Betwixt

I point to it. "You've still got-"

"I don't have to be doing this, you know. If I walk away, you've got no one."

I step back from his abrupt statement. Why is he saying this to me? Why is he becoming like everybody else?

Tears sting my eyes as my voice rises.

"I'm a very popular person."

"Who no one gives a shit about! You just heard him say it."

Dale points to where Trent was standing.

"Do you honestly think if anyone else could hear you, they would take time to listen? I'm the only person at this school willing to do anything."

"That is SO not true!"

"Isn't it?"

I don't know what to say.

"You know why people don't like you? Because you act like a bitch. You say awful things and you treat people like crap. That's why no one's mourning you."

"Why are you saying this to me?" I swallow. "I said sorry about the Scarface thing."

"It's not about Scarface. It's about your attitude towards everything. It's about you suspecting one of the only friends I have at this school." He points to his nose. "It's about being punched in the face by your asshole boyfriend who thinks he can treat you like a sex slave and get away with it."

Dale's breathing like a bull ready to charge.

I cross my arms and can't help joining him. My breaths begin to spurt through my nostrils as I shake my head.

"Don't you dare stand there judging me. What the hell do you know? Have you ever watched someone die? Have you ever listened to their screams of terror? That noise is impossible to get out of your brain! So don't stand there telling me that all my choices have been wrong. All I've been doing is trying to survive this hell!"

"You don't think I understand tragedy?" He pulls back his hair, showing me the scar in all its glory. "I spent five hours trapped in a car listening to my friends die around me and just praying that I'd make it out alive."

My anger flees the scene in record time. My arms drop to my side as I swallow down the lump in my throat.

"I know how hard that sound is to ignore, but at least I haven't chosen to throw away my life on a bunch of bad decisions. I'm trying to help you, Nicky. But your screwed up life keeps getting in the way."

He lets out a long sigh.

"Fine." I lift my chin. "You're better than me. Congratulations."

"I didn't mean-"

"Don't talk to me again." I shake my head. "I don't want you to waste your time looking for me, I don't deserve it anyway."

"Nicole, don't be like that."

I turn and start walking away. I don't know what's just happened, but the thought of spending another second near Dale Fi

"I still want to help you!" he calls after me.

I keep moving.

"Nicole."

The people beside me turn to look at Dale.

"Who the hell is he talking to?" one guy mutters.

"Beats me, the guy's weird."

I cover my ears and keep walking. Blending with human traffic, I squeeze through doors as they open and eventually make it out of the school. Wrapping my arms around myself, I turn down Maple Lane and start walking home.

I have nowhere else to go.

Dale's words run through my head.

All I can think is... he's right.

My sins are finally catching up with me.

I deserve this.

No one will ever find my body, because I deserve to die.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The house is empty when I arrive. I have no choice but to jump... fall through the window and walk to my room. Stopping in the living room, I stand and gaze at the tall pine tree in the back yard. I can see Jody's tiny body falling as she screams my name.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to switch off the sound, but it doesn't work.

"NICKY!" rings in my brain, loud, clear and deafening.

I cover my ears and run up to my room. Flinging myself onto the bed, I bury my head in my arms and let the sobs take me. They climb up my body, making it wrench and jerk. I haven't cried this hard... ever.

My loud moans and hiccupy breaths fill the room until there's nothing left.

The silence that follows is depressing, but I can't move away from it. I lay there in numb silence for the rest of the day. I can't sleep, I can't disappear, all I can do is lie there and hear all my friends' nasty words swirl in my head. The only thing to break the rhythm is Jody's scream and the sick thud that followed it.

At four o'clock the front door clicks open. I recognize my mother's clipped steps. I want to go down and see her, but I can't make my body move. An hour later I hear Dad walking in.

"Get up," I whisper. I repeat the words until my brain starts functioning. Slowly I rise from the bed and make my way downstairs.

Mom is pottering in the kitchen, chopping up lettuce, slicing up tomatoes. Dad's at the refrigerator pulling out a beer.

They walk around each other in silence, not saying a word.

Mom sniffs at a few tears as she chops the onions. I don't know what's really causing them, but Dad doesn't even flinch.

What happened to our family?

A memory of the four of us sitting around the dining room table - the one we never use now - playing a board game flits through my brain.

Jody was giggling her head off at Dad's fu