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The Stillburrow Crush
by Linda Kage
usually went to be alone was the park. But that was too close to home and my parents would probably find me there, and then I'd have to explain the whole suspension thing. But the library was right across the street. I crossed the empty road and jogged up the wide marble steps of the library. A cold breeze flapped against the collar of my coat. I shifted my heavy book bag to my other shoulder and opened the door.
Silence seemed to waft out and greet me. I knew the librarian was usually at her desk, which was directly to the right. I didn't want her to see me and ask why I wasn't in school, so I entered quietly and turned straight to the left. I found a deserted corner, which wasn't hard since the tiny library was empty of patrons, and there I started my campout. Since I wasn't going to be in school for a week, I thought I could come here in the days and study each class for an hour, the hour I should've been in that class. That way I wouldn't be so far behind next week.
I was no longer thinking about dropping out of SEC. I'd settled down a lot since that irrational moment in the hallway with Luke. I wasn't looking forward to going back after losing five days of class work, no, but I was thankful I wouldn't be missing any tests. And I was worried about the newspaper. I was the only member on the journalism staff who really did anything with The Central Record. The teacher was going to be pulling her hair out by Friday when deadlines hit. I guess she'd just have to go to her friendly principal to complain if there were problems.
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I tried to concentrate on reading through all the different textbooks, but it was near to impossible. Who actually read those books, anyway? Talk about dry writing. But I eventually came up with a way to amuse myself as I sca
So I just penciled in my own translation in my notebook, writing, "It was April 14th and spring was blooming. Only days before, the North had won their grueling war. Life was good for the president and his wife. And what better way could they celebrate than to attend the distinguished Ford's Theatre and watch a relaxing play. But the South had one last attack before they would admit defeat. One man, John Wilkes Booth, who was a Rebel at heart, slipped into Abraham Lincoln's box seat and shot him in the back of the head, killing not only the man but the leader of this united nation." OK, so it wasn't that exciting but writing helped me keep my mind off things. So I wrote and I wrote. Finally, it was late enough in the afternoon I felt I should start venturing from the library. I knew I should go home, to save myself from even more punishment for staying away. But there was another stop I needed to make first.
I seriously needed to see Marty. I walked along Birch Street and then up Adams. I passed Georgia's and ducked a quick peek through the windows to make sure my mom wasn't inside before I crossed the street toward the grocery 183
The Stillburrow Crush
by Linda Kage
store. When I pulled opened the door to Getty's General, the bell jingled over my head.
I skidded to a stop when I saw the owner of the store, and not my brother, at the cash register. There were only a handful of customers cruising the four aisles and no one was checking out at that moment. John Getty turned toward me. He had a ready smile on his face but it froze in place when he saw that it was a Paxton filling the entrance.
"Can I help you?" he said, through unmoving, stiff lips. I shook my head and started to move in reverse. Where was Marty?
"I'm sorry," I said, right before I backed into the door. I groped behind me, pushed it open, and escaped. What was going on? Why wasn't Marty at work? I started to breathe heavily, already suspecting the worst. I ran the whole way to his place. The small house he rented with Austin Fitz, owned by Austin's parents, was situated next door to the funeral home on Main Street. I pounded up their front steps and threw open the screen door. The regular door was already open and I charged in on Austin as he lay sprawled on the sofa in sweats, playing a video game on the television. Austin, who looked nothing like his younger brother, E.T., worked nights at the gas station. He looked like he'd just awakened and gone straight to the television. His eyes were blurry and his hair was sticking up. An empty cereal bowl sat on the floor in front of him.
"Come on in," he called, even though I was already inside. He sent me a sleepy smile. "What's up, little sister?"
"Where's Marty?"
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Austin's smile fell and he shook his head. "He ain't doing so well. The guy's bummed out, let me tell you."
"Where is he?" I repeated.
Austin shrugged. "Haven't seen him. I'd check his room if I were you."
I rolled my eyes and started toward Marty's room. I tried to open his door but it was locked. So I pounded.
"Marty! Open this door right now." I continued to pound until the door cracked opened and my very mad-looking brother glared out at me. "Stop pounding," he said, wincing. "You're giving me a headache, stupid."
He looked about as bad as I'd ever seen him. Dark rings circled his sunken eyes and he hadn't shaved in a while. Strong whiffs of alcohol escaped from his room, choking me.
"Let me in," I said.
I tried to push my way inside, but the rest of his body was blocking the door. He snarled at me. "Cut it out. I'm not dressed"
I gave him a get-real look. "I'm not blind, Marty. I can see your shirt and jeans through the crack in the door." I put my weight against the wood. "I need to talk to you." He didn't budge. "So talk."
I glanced toward the living room where his roommate was playing video games. Marty caught my meaning but only shrugged.
"Fine," I said. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. "Egghead just suspended me for a week, thanks to you."
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Marty glared at me for a moment. We had a small stareoff. We'd had hundreds of stare-offs over the years and we usually used them to determine if the other person was lying or not. I knew the routine so I gazed back, giving him my serious face.
When Marty was satisfied I spoke the truth, he squeezed his eyes shut and hissed out a curse. Then he stepped back and let me in.
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Chapter Fourteen
"Why'd he suspend you?" Marty said, when he closed the door behind us
I felt like I'd been shut inside a dumpster. The stench of alcohol and other rotten things about knocked me over. It was chilly and damp and dark. Too cave-like for my comfort. Marty had even thrown blankets over the windows to keep out the light.
"Why aren't you at work?" I strode to the windows, tripping over shoes and pizza boxes and who knew what else on the floor as I went.
I yanked the sheets off, and daylight poured into the room.
Marty groaned and winced. "I liked them where they were," he said through clenched teeth. I spun around to face him. He'd sat down on the edge of his unmade bed and was lifting his hand to shade his eyes.
"Did you get fired?"
Empty beer cans littered the floor between us. Dirty laundry was piled in various mounds around the room. Marty fell back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling.