That Night

  I listened, my heart thudding loud in my head. The judges at the appeals court had decided that the original judge had made the right decision. The next step would be to take it to the Supreme Court, but it would be costly, and I could sense that he thought it would be futile. I also thought of what my mom had said and knew there was no way I could ask them to take this any further.

  “What about legal aid?” I said.

  “Without any new evidence or witnesses, you’d have a tough time finding anyone who’s going to take this on.”

  “There has to be someone who can help.” I felt panicky, my last chance slipping through my fingers.

  “I’ve asked around, but no one was interested.”

  I sat silent, his words crashing down around me. No one was interested.

  “I’m really sorry, Toni.”

  “There’s nothing we can do?”

  “Something may come to light in a few years.” He was quiet for a beat. “But some people, they find it’s easier to just do their time and learn to have some kind of life inside. You’ll still be a young woman when you get out.”

  “But I didn’t do it!” Anger was starting to choke my throat, making it hard to think, to speak. I looked around, took in my surroundings. This was all I was going to see for years, cement and metal. He was telling me to let go of hope. To give up. And he was right. There was nothing left.

  “Try to focus on the future, take some courses,” he said.

  “My life is over.” I hung up the phone.

  * * *

  My dad came for a visit a couple of days later, and he was alone. I noticed how gray his hair was getting, seemingly overnight. He had pouches under his eyes and he looked like he’d lost weight. I was just about to ask about Mom when he quickly said, “Your mom has a bad cold and couldn’t make the trip, but she was sorry to hear about the verdict.”

  I nodded and forced a smile so he wouldn’t think I was too upset. I knew I shouldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t come, but it still stung. She’d probably taken the court’s decisions as another sign of my guilt—she’d been right about me all along. I had a feeling she’d have been more upset if I’d been freed and gone unpunished for Nicole’s death. I wondered if they’d been fighting about me.

  “Are you guys okay?” I said.

  “We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

  I wished he would just be real and tell me what was actually happening for them, but I knew he wouldn’t. Just like I wasn’t going to tell him what was really happening for me on the inside. It had been like that for years with us, ever since my life started imploding in high school. Why would anything change now?

  We talked for a while, but I couldn’t get lost in the chatter. The stuff he was telling me about the outside, a new house they were building, things that were happening in town, either frustrated me or made me sad that I wasn’t a part of them. I tried to disconnect from the pain he was stirring up, the noise in my head, but then I went to a hard place, an angry place where I wondered how he could talk about such trivial things when I’d lost what was probably my last chance at freedom, when Nicole’s murderer was still out there. How could he move on like this? When I was in high school it felt like we weren’t in the same world—now it felt like we weren’t even in the same universe.

  “I’ll try to come back next month, okay, honey?” he said at the end of the visit. “Your grandma wants to come next time.”

  I thought of my grandma with her aching legs and varicose veins, traveling hours to see her granddaughter in jail. She was the only grandparent I had left—my dad’s mother—and we’d been close when I was growing up. I’d spend weekends at her house, and she taught me how to make pierogies. She’d come to the trial, her head shaking at any negative testimony, her face determined and angry. She told me she knew I couldn’t have done it and had written me a few times in prison. But I was scared to think that might have changed for her.

  “You don’t have to do that, Dad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s expensive and it’s a long trip. You work hard all week—and Grandma, she’d be sore, sitting all day in a truck. I don’t want to do that to her.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about us, okay? We want to support you any way we can, and we miss you.” I imagined him going home alone, Mom and him having dinner. Did they talk? Or did she give him the silent treatment for visiting me, for betraying Nicole?

  “Dad, it means a lot that you’ve been coming, but it’s really hard on me too—reminds me of everything, you know? And I get homesick. I can’t do any visits for a while. We can write and stuff, but right now I need to get used to life in here, okay?”

  “Okay.” He nodded but he was blinking back tears. I was crying too.

  “Don’t cry, Dad. It will be better for us, I think—and for Mom.”

  He met my eyes and gave a sad smile. This time I didn’t wait to watch him walk away. I got up first and went back to the guards, back to my cell, back to hell. I had done it. I’d pushed away the last family member who cared about me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WOODBRIDGE HIGH, CAMPBELL RIVER

  JANUARY 1996

  Monday after the party, I headed out to the parking lot at lunch to wait for Ryan. A car drove past me with some kids I knew from school. I was about to wave hello but only got my hand up partway when I noticed that they were all looking at me and laughing about something. What was their problem? I dropped my hand and kept walking to Ryan’s truck, trying to convince myself that I was imagining things—they were probably laughing about something else. Then I noticed what someone had written in the mud on Ryan’s tailgate:

  My girlfriend is a dirty slut. She gave Jason Leroy a blow job in ninth grade.

  I was frantically trying to wipe it off when Ryan came out.

  “Shit,” he said when he saw it.

  “It had to be Shauna.” I studied his face, worried. It was bad enough I’d fooled around with Jason, but he’d gotten into drugs the last two years and been suspended a couple of times, plus he hung out with the skankiest girls.

  Ryan did look furious, but his anger wasn’t aimed at me.

  “If I catch her doing that again, she’s going to have to deal with me.”

  “What are you going to do?” I felt relieved but was still shaken up by Shauna’s crude message.

  “I’ll figure out some way to embarrass her. I know a few guys who’ve messed around with her.” He looked at my face, saw how upset I was, and said, “Don’t worry about it, babe. No one probably saw it.”

  He pulled me in for a hug. But I knew they had seen it. Over his shoulder I noticed some kids by their car looking at us and laughing. Ryan heard them and turned around, his shoulders squared.

  “You got a problem, assholes?”

  They shut up, one of the guys holding his hands out in a hey-we’re-cool gesture. But it didn’t matter what Ryan said or who he threatened, it was already all over school—kids whispered and giggled when I walked down the hallway to my afternoon class. I tried to look like I didn’t care, but my cheeks were hot and I felt close to tears.

  After school, Ryan and I got coffee at Tim Hortons and drove around on some back roads. We’d been silent for a while, just listening to the music, smoking cigarettes, both of us thinking, when he finally said, “Was it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “About Jason. Did you, you know…”

  My face burned. I’d hoped he wasn’t going to ask. “He was different back then. And Shauna…” I told him the whole story, how she’d set me up, how Jason had pressured me. At the end, I said, “Are you pissed?”

  “At you? Nah. It was a long time ago.”

  But his voice sounded kind of distant, and when I reached for his hand he didn’t hold it as tight, and he didn’t look over and smile like always. I stared out the window, blinked back tears. I couldn’t wait to graduate, to leave this stupid school and Shauna far behind.

  * * *

>   Ryan dropped me off. We kissed and he said, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” but I watched him driving off, feeling anxious when he burned rubber at the end of the road. I knew it was crazy, but I couldn’t help worrying, for the first time ever, that he might break up with me, that this had changed things between us. My mom was serving dinner, but I said I wasn’t feeling well, ignored her curious look, and went straight to my room. She’d be the last person I’d confide in about a problem with Ryan—hell, she’d probably throw a party and celebrate. Safe in my room, I put on some music and lay on my bed, my hand on my stomach, trying to hold in the sick feeling. I told myself it would be fine, Ryan would get over it. Then I got mad. If Ryan wanted to dump me over something I did three years ago, he was a jerk. It’s not like he’d been a total saint before we met. Still … my gaze drifted over to my photo of us.

  I couldn’t imagine my life without him, couldn’t imagine facing school or even walking down the hall if I didn’t have Ryan. The thought was so awful, the pressure in my chest enormous. I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, then stayed under the hot spray until I felt a little better, the terrifying emotions flowing out of me. It was going to be okay. It had to be okay.

  An hour later I was on my bed writing Ryan a letter when I heard a soft knock at my window. It was Ryan. He was wearing a brown knit hat pulled low, almost to his eyes, and an older leather jacket, open over a gray sweater. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold. I motioned for him to stay there and checked that my door was locked. I could hear my parents talking downstairs and dishes clanging in the kitchen. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to hear anything, but my window could be loud, the wood tight so that it always squeaked when I slid it open. I turned up my music, then opened the window fast.

  “What are you doing here? My parents are downstairs.”

  He must have climbed up to the roof from the tree behind my house. The tree Nicole and I had climbed down last summer, sneaking to the beach for a late-night swim, coming home cold and shivering but exhilarated by our bravery.

  “I missed you.” He smiled.

  I didn’t smile back, still upset about earlier. “You could’ve called.”

  His smiled dropped. “I had to see you. I’m sorry, baby. For how I was being after school. I don’t like thinking about you with anyone else, and sometimes I forget it hasn’t always just been you and me, you know?”

  “It’s the same for me when I see your ex.”

  He leaned into the window, grabbed some of my hair, and pulled me closer until we were eye to eye. “I never felt anything for her like I do for you. She was nothing. What we have is real and forever, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  We kissed for a long time, him still sitting on my roof, the cool winter air wrapping around us and swirling into my bedroom, my hands on his warm back under his sweater. His hands on my face, my hair, our mouths desperate, needing to show each other how much we mattered, how this was all that mattered.

  * * *

  The next morning at school, Amy met me at my locker and said, “Oh, my God. I just heard. Are you and Ryan okay?” She’d been sick the day before and never saw what Shauna had done, but she’d already heard the rumors. When I told her what Shauna had written and how Ryan and I had made up last night, she gave me a big hug and told me not to worry about it, that Ryan was a good guy.

  “And don’t worry about Jason Leroy,” she said. “I’ve messed around with a few losers myself.” I laughed.

  At lunchtime, Shauna drove by me and Ryan while we were making out in the parking lot. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye. Shauna’s face fell when she saw us, and it was obvious she was trying not to stare, but she looked shocked. The other girls weren’t smiling either. I kissed Ryan harder.

  The next day at school Amy didn’t come to my locker in the morning, which was unusual. We always walked to our first class together—Ryan’s was in the other building. Thinking she might still be sick, I headed down to her locker, passing a few kids who gave me dirty looks in the hallway. One of the girls, Tricia, was someone Amy and I hung out with sometimes. She was a toughie like us, always wearing black and had lots of piercings. When she passed by, she gave me a shove with her shoulder.

  I stopped. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

  She turned around and said, “I can’t believe you did that to Amy.”

  “Did what?” I was getting a sick feeling.

  “Like you don’t know.”

  Then I saw Amy coming down the hall toward me, a few of our other friends behind her. Her face was angry but she also looked like she’d been crying. She stopped in front of me. “Thanks a lot, Toni.”

  “For what? What’s going on?”

  “I heard what you told Warren. He broke up with me.”

  “This is insane. I haven’t talked to Warren—I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  The girls behind her were all shaking their heads and rolling their eyes. I heard one of them whisper, “What a lying cow.”

  “I know you called him last night and told him I cheated on him at Christmas with Nathan.” Amy looked around, saw how many people were watching. “Which is a total lie.”

  Amy had fooled around with Nathan, but I’d never said a word to anyone. Not many people knew, just Nathan and a few of his friends. One of them was Cameron, the guy Shauna was getting cozy with at the party. I had a feeling he’d told Shauna—and Shauna must have called Warren, pretending to be me. I remembered how good she was at mimicking people when we were younger, how she could copy the exact tone and pitch of their voice, how she even called home for me once and fooled my own mother.

  “I never called Warren, Amy. It had to be Shauna—she was pissed that she didn’t break me and Ryan up. Why would I do something like that?”

  “Warren swore it was you.” Amy’s voice rose. Now kids were stopping in the hallway to listen.

  I was too stunned to defend myself. I could only stand there and take it, my heart beating fast. But Amy was still going strong.

  “Warren told me the other stuff you said, about how my parents were poor and he could do better than me. That I dressed like a homeless person.”

  “I would never say that.” Amy bought all her clothes at the thrift store and tried to pretend it was cool, but I knew she’d rather have new stuff.

  “God, you can’t stop lying.”

  My shock and confusion were wearing off and now I was also pissed.

  “You’re nuts if you believe any of this crap. Think about it, Amy.”

  But Amy wasn’t thinking anymore, didn’t want to hear the truth. “You think your relationship with Ryan is soooo perfect, like no one else can have a boyfriend. He’s the only thing you even talk about anymore.”

  Was that what this was really about? Amy was jealous?

  “That’s not true,” I said. “I still call you to hang out.”

  “Yeah.” She snorted. “When Ryan’s busy. You’re totally lame now.”

  “Screw you, Amy. You’re the one who was always canceling our plans so you could follow Warren around—no wonder he broke up with you.”

  Amy’s face was red, tears filling her eyes. “I hate you.”

  She spun around and walked off. Some kids followed, others stood around, waiting to see what I would do. I could barely move, still clutching my binder. My face was burning hot. Ryan, I have to get to Ryan.

  I ran down the hall, away from everyone, and skipped my first class, hiding out by Ryan’s truck, waiting for him to come out for a cigarette break.

  “Toni, what happened?” he said as soon as he saw me. “Are you okay?”

  “I hate this school and everyone in it.” I wiped away angry tears.

  He pulled me in for a hug. I hung on tight, my heart finally slowing as I felt his solid warmth, the strength in his body.

  He murmured against my hair, “We’re almost out of here.”

  I tried to focus on his words, but I kept hearin
g Amy say “I hate you.” I’d never had anyone say that to me before. Had never felt like someone meant it.

  * * *

  The next few weeks at school, all through the rest of January and the first week of February, were brutal. Ryan and a few of his friends were the only people who would talk to me. Even the guys’ girlfriends would give me the cold shoulder if the boys weren’t around. I was doing terrible in my classes. My mom and I had a big fight one night, after she said, again, that I was spending too much time with Ryan, and she used my grades as proof. I told her she didn’t know what she was talking about. She tried for the reasonable thing, sat on my bed and said, “Then talk to me and tell me what’s going on. None of your friends call, your teachers say you’re surly and difficult, you hide out in your room for hours…”

  I was so embarrassed, hearing what my life had become, that I flipped out completely. “Maybe you’re the problem. Did you ever think about that?” Then I stormed out of the house and walked down to the river. My dad came and got me an hour later.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” he said, “but I hope you know you can always talk to us—no matter what. If it’s drugs—”

  “Jesus Christ, Dad. You’re as bad as Mom.”

  “We’re worried about you.”

  “Well, don’t be. I’m fine.” But I wasn’t, and he knew it. He rested his hand on my shoulder and didn’t say anything else. I was disappointed by that in an odd way. Part of me wanted him to press, wanted him to force it out of me. But he’d given up, and so had I. When we got home, my mom was in her office. I closed my door and turned on my music. She knocked a little while later but I ignored her. I heard my dad say something to her, then they both walked away.

  I’d tried to call Amy a couple of times, but her mom said she didn’t want to speak to me—and the way her mom’s voice sounded, stiff and cold, told me that Amy had confided in her. It made me feel even worse, thinking her mom believed I’d really said all those mean things. She’d always been so nice to me.

  Nicole had heard what happened, but I was too upset to even talk to her. I also didn’t want her telling Mom all about it because then she’d get involved and probably talk to our teachers or something stupid like that. I told Nicole some girls had been spreading lies, and acted like I didn’t give a shit, blowing it off. But inside, I was a mess. I was barely eating and was losing weight.