I dig out my knitted brown scarf, wrapping it tightly around my face, and place a matching brown beanie on my head. Pulling on a light sweater, I grab my keys off the counter and shut the door behind me. I jog out to the car amid a downpour of rain.
I’m shaking by the time I climb into my car, which is saying something as I parked only 100 feet from the entrance to my building. Jamming the key in ignition, I turn to fire up the engine. Instead of the strained whining sound my car usually makes, I’m met with silence. Nothing. Nada. The engine isn’t even turning over. Flicking my hand to the dome light, it surprises me when it clicks on. What the hell? I don’t know jack about cars but my gut tells me that this is more of a Wyatt problem than it is a car problem, seeing as I just had her in for the fuel injectors last week. I’m fuming as I dig my phone out of my purse, punching Wyatt’s name on the caller ID roughly.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away. Need me to come take care of you again, baby?” he coos into the phone, smugly. I don’t have time for his games.
“What did you do to my fucking car?” I spit, anger boiling through my veins.
“I didn’t do anything to your car, sweetie,” he says, patronizingly. I could fucking strangle him with my bare hands.
“Well the damn thing won’t start, and I can’t think of any other reason except that you fucked with it.”
“Need me to come tow it for you? I’m at the shop today and I wouldn’t mind taking a little afternoon break.” The implication in his voice is my breaking point. He needs to take a freakin’ hint.
“No, I don’t need you to tow it so your shitty shop can do more shitty work on my shitty car!” I yell into the phone. “I just had my car in your shop last week, so either you messed it up then, or you messed it up last night. Fix this shit!” I’m fuming. My teeth are chattering not entirely from my damp clothes, but from the adrenaline fueled rage in my body.
“Calm down, babe. Let me get it towed and we can put it back together again. I just wanted a reason to see you.” Wyatt has me. He knows it and I know it.
If he messed with my car, I know he won’t fix it until I agree to come by there, and if he didn’t mess with it, and the piece of junk is just broken, he knows he can give me the best deal around to find out what’s wrong. I’m screwed either way, and I can practically hear the victory in his voice through the phone.
“I can’t pay for a fix, let alone a tow, Wyatt. I need to get groceries,” I tell him, hoping he can find an ounce of sympathy somewhere inside his callous black heart.
“I can think of a couple different ways you can pay me,” he taunts, goading me.
“Fuck you, Wyatt. I don’t need you.”
I’m about to disconnect the call when he says, “Wait, I’ll help you. When did you get so uptight about shit? Let me send the tow, for free, and I’ll fix it for you. I just can’t leave work right now.”
I huff in frustration before I answer. I’m cold and tired, and he’s sitting here playing tricks on me. If I hadn’t been so positive about the end of our escapades last night, I sure am now.
“Send the truck. I’ll be waiting inside.” I hang up before he can answer me, incredibly pissed at his games.
Thirty minutes later, his buddy Cole shows up in the tow truck, sporting a shit eating grin I wish I could slap off his face. No doubt that Wyatt filled him in on his little joke, and they had a nice laugh at my expense.
When we arrive at the mechanic’s shop, I hop out and give Wyatt a piece of my mind before finding a place to sit. He told me I have to wait for my car because he has another vehicle in front of mine that needs an oil change, and his boss is hanging around today. What a waste of a day off.
I pull my phone out of my pocket to mess around on some apps to kill time when I see I have a missed call and a voicemail. Plugging my free ear with my finger against the noise from the shop, I listen carefully to the message.
“Hello, Miss Krause, this is Mr. Stephenson. It has been brought to my attention by Mr. Ryan that you have been absent from school for two days, and the administrator doesn’t have a record of any notice or valid reason. Since you do not have a legal parent or guardian responsible for you, I wanted to bring to your attention that regardless of your home situation, you may still be found truant under the law. I expect to see you in class first thing Monday morning. If you have circumstances we need to discuss, please call me. I am here to help, but you need to be willing to ask for it. We’ll talk soon.”
Guilt overwhelms me at the disappointment in his voice, and I delete the recording. I’m one week into my last semester of high school and I’m already sliding. And I’ve disappointed the one person who has stood up for me and has helped guide me through the horror I endured last year. The only adult who’s ever been there for me in any sort of parental role. This isn’t like me. I don’t skip classes or disrespect my teachers or hide out in my bedroom. I’ve bottled up so many emotions over the past year, that I’m about to burst.
In order to right the situation, I need to make a trip to the school to pick up some homework and talk to my teachers and Mr. Stephenson. The last thing I need is to be dragged off to court for a truancy charge.
“Wyatt, how much longer on my car?” I call out, because even though I can’t see him, I know he’s in here. He walks out from behind a large black SUV, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
“A while yet. Why what’s up?”
I try to take a deep cleansing breath to eliminate my frustrations. It’s not working.
“I need to run to the school and get some homework before the weekend since I’ve missed the past two days. Can you give me a lift? They’ll lock up the school pretty quick here seeing as it’s already after four.”
“You bet. Give me two minutes.” Sure, now he’s being pleasant and cooperative. The prick. I shoulder my purse and step outside to wait for him.
The whole five minute drive, Wyatt keeps trying to place his hand on my upper thigh, and I keep having to remove it. When we pull up to the school doors, I see him unbuckling his seat belt, and I freeze with my hand on the door handle.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, confusion coloring my tone. “I’ll be just a minute.”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m coming with you.”
Before I can get out another word, he exits the car and stands, waiting for me on the sidewalk. Rolling my eyes, I climb out of the car, powering up the walkway without stopping to wait for him. He better not lag behind because I want to get this over with, get my car put back together, and not have to deal with Wyatt again.
We climb the steps to the third floor to start at the top and work our way down. I walk down the hall, leading the way as Wyatt trails behind me, pointing out insignificant things he did when he went to school here.
“Oh dude, I remember setting off fire crackers in this bathroom! The fire alarms went off, and everybody had to wait outside for the fire department,” he tells me, as if I should be impressed.
I tune him out as I walk, losing hope with each room I pass. After finding my third classroom vacant and locked, I’m beginning to see this trip was a waste of time.
“Nobody is here. Let’s check out the second floor and then we can leave. Sorry for dragging you out.”
Walking down the staircase to the second floor, I can hear Wyatt trailing behind me. As I step out onto the landing, he grabs me around the waist, pulling me towards him and pushes me up against the stairway wall. “What are you…”
His hands come down, pinning my arms to my sides as his mouth crashes into mine, cutting off my question. He doesn’t waste any time as his frantic tongue begins searching, demanding entrance into my mouth. I keep my lips clamped shut against the assault.