Turn the World Upside Down

  We’re almost to the therapy room, Casey a few feet in front of us, when I pull it out, suddenly needing it gone, and hopefully the memories along with it.

  “I’m worried about him,” Rosie says.

  “Stray?” I squeeze the metal tighter.

  “No,” she snaps. “You obviously have him under control. Casey.”

  His eyes face the ground as he walks ahead of us. His whole body sags. It’s different than the pain I usually see in him. “Yeah, I know. Me too. He was excited the other night to sneak out and trade places with Stray, but it’s like he slipped away again after.”

  Rosie threads her arm through mine. “We’ll fix him. We lost Bethany. We have to be there for Casey. Hey, what’s that?”

  The metal’s in the hand closest to her. I didn’t even think about it as I flipped it over and over between my fingers. “I took it from Stray. I need to get rid of it.”

  “Here, hand it over. I’ll take care of it for you.” Easily, I give it to Rosie, glad not to have it in my possession anymore. I see Stray sitting on the bathroom floor every time I look at it, remembering what it felt like to see him broken.

  “Did he cut?”

  I shake my head. “No. I got to him in time.”

  “See? I told you, you have him under control.” Rosie pockets it as we turn into the therapy room.

  “Oh! I have something exciting for you guys today!” Amelia tells us.

  Brock gives a frustrated huff and even though I agree, I don’t look at him. I’m supposed to be staying away from things that make me angry here, and every time I look at him I want to hit something. His smirk tells me he knows it and likes it.

  Amelia’s activity isn’t fun, though, they never are. Sometimes her excitement almost makes it feel that way, but today isn’t one of those days. The more Amelia talks the more my attention wanders. She’s a lot easier to pretend around than John or Dr. Harrison.

  When I look up, I see Megan whispering something to Brock. He laughs and then turns to us, toward Rosie, then Casey, then me, and grins. There isn’t a part of me who cares if I get into trouble for my actions, so I don’t hesitate to flip him off. Rosie grabs my hand and shoves it to my lap before Amelia sees. Brock saw, though. That’s all I care about.

  “It’s not totally his fault he’s an asshole, ya know?” Rosie says when therapy is over.

  “Um, yeah it is.” I shake my head. “He’s the one who decides to be an asshole.”

  “You know about his past, though. That stuff affects people.” Rosie raises one of her brows at me, but I don’t reply. Brock and I are nothing alike.

  She changes the subject. “So, what activities are we doing for our break?”

  Casey shakes his head. “I’m… I’m playing. Amelia said I can stay in here and play the clarinet.” It’s not the first time he’s done that since we lost Bethany. It’s not as if he never stayed behind to play before, but now it’s a regular thing.

  Rosie playfully crosses her arms. “Come on, Casey. Don’t ditch us.”

  He looks sad, want in his dark brown eyes. He wishes he didn’t need to stay here, wishes he could be the guy who snuck out of the room for me and Stray to spend the night together, but it’s not him. That’s the part that really sucks about life—we all can’t just be who we want to be. They say you can, but it’s not true. There are parts of us we can never ever change.

  “S-sorry.”

  When he walks away she gives her attention to me. A stab of guilt pierces my gut, because I’m about to bail on her as well. “Stray and I… we were going to the stables. Maryanne and Christopher are on a run, and they asked Stray to take care of the horses.” There are a lot of private places in the stables for us to hide….

  “What!” She punches my arm. “You’re ditching me to go make out with Stray?”

  “Um… yeah.” Like she wouldn’t do it. It’s kissing. And touching. And who knows what else? It’s better than baseball and anything else I’ve ever enjoyed all together.

  Rosie flinches, and automatically I reach out and grab her hand. Did I hurt her feelings? I didn’t mean to. This is Rosie, though. She doesn’t let things like that bother her. She’s tougher than the rest of us put together.

  “Really?” she asks. My pulse picks up.

  “No… not ditching you. We just wanted… but if you want… we can totally hang out with you.”

  Rosie rolls her eyes, grabs my head, and pulls me toward her before kissing my forehead. “I’m giving you shit, Funny Boy. Of course I don’t care. Go kiss and jerk off and have fun. I’ll find a way to keep myself busy. Maybe I can find a boy to kiss, and jerk off, and have fun with too.”

  She winks at me and then, in typical Rosie fashion, skips away.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “WHAT DO you want to do?” I ask Stray when we step into the stables. One of the horses neighs, and I’m betting it’s Molly. She’s telling Stray that we better take care of them before we do anything else.

  Which, yeah, makes sense, but I’m still trying to do this grab on to the moment thing. In a few weeks, I’ll be gone, and I want to enjoy as much of the time we have together that I can. I gave Stray my address, and he gave me his foster family’s. We swapped with Rosie and Casey too, but even if we can keep in touch after this, it won’t be the same.

  “We have to take care of the animals.” He turns, having gotten a few feet in front of me. “You’re totally into me.”

  It’s hard to tell how serious he is when he says things like that. I mean, it’s true, I’m into him, but I never know if he’s trying to hide the guy who thinks he’s going to break me, or if he’s really being him.

  “Is this you?” We turn to head for the hay. He doesn’t ask what I mean. Somehow, he knows.

  “It’s me. Might not be me tomorrow. Or maybe it’s always me, but sometimes I forget. Sometimes I feel like this is all a dream, but I’m also not trying to be someone else. Does that make sense?”

  It does. We’re probably all like that in more ways than we’d like to admit. Stray’s just able to voice it in a way I never would. That’s why I like him. “Yeah. It does. Come on. Let’s do this.”

  Stray takes one side of the stables, and I take the other. We make sure everyone is fed and watered before brushing them. This is the first time I’ve done it alone, but I’ve seen Stray before. I get what he likes about horses, the comfort in them, and think maybe I’d like to try and ride when I get out of here. Maybe it’s something Holly and I can do together.

  “Hey.” Stray steps up beside me right as I finish. His cheeks are a little pink, maybe because it’s warm out today. It makes his freckles show even more. His hair’s starting to fade again.

  “One night soon I’ll sneak into your room, and we can color it.” I touch the thick strands that are always hanging in his face.

  He latches our hands together, threads our fingers before tugging me to a different part of the stables. Both of us are out in our home lives, so it’s not something we try to hide, but we also don’t get to really openly touch each other very often. The closest we’ve gotten is when he had his head in my lap on the field. They’d probably try and keep us separate or watch us better if they knew.

  My skin already gets warmer with each step we take. I’ve dated a couple of guys and kissed a couple of guys, but it’s different with him… and I haven’t gotten to kiss him nearly enough either.

  We should be doing this a lot more often. Kind of like Rosie said in the beginning, sneaking into closets or wherever else we can find to make out.

  Stray leads us back to a hidden corner in the stables. It’s stacked with bales of hay, a loose pile of it in the corner. Stray sits on the small hill of hay, and I go down beside him. Our fading marks are still all over him, twisting and turning and dancing along all the scars he’s put on himself. It makes him smell a little like ink mixed with hay.

  “It’s going to be hard to leave you.” It’s not what I expected him to say, but I feel it too, heavy
in my stomach. His three months are up a few days after my six weeks.

  “You only live twenty minutes away.”

  “They won’t keep me, Hunter. They never do. I’m used to it. I get it. People come in and out of my life, fade just like the pictures I draw on my skin. They don’t stay like the scars, but….”

  My heart slams a bit. This isn’t what I want to do. I want to enjoy this moment, not think about all the bad shit waiting. But now that he’s planted it in my head, it’s all that’s there now. We lost Bethany, and then we’re all going to lose each other. I’ll have my family, but my head is still all screwed up. Who will Stray have? Who will Rosie and Casey have?

  “My mom,” I rush out, trying to make my words come out as fast as my heart’s beating. “She’ll let you stay with us. I bet if I ask her, she’ll take you. She won’t want you to be alone.”

  He gets a sad sort of smile on his face. One that people get when they feel sorry for a person, or they think someone doesn’t get it.

  I jerk my hand back. “I’m serious. You don’t know her. She would.”

  “That’s why I like you so much,” he says instead of arguing with me about what my mom would or wouldn’t do. “You try and take care of people who are important to you. It means you have a big heart. Most people don’t. No one’s ever tried to take care of me. That’s why you’re here too… because you wanted to take care of your sister, huh?”

  My legs take over, and I try to push to my feet, but Stray stops me. “No matter what, you didn’t hurt her. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t walk away from her. You would have protected her if you knew.”

  “I can’t.” I shake my head. “I can’t look her in the eyes. I see it. See him. See her. I left her.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t see it that way.” Stray picks up a piece of hay, rolling it between his fingers.

  But I do. And I can’t ask her to forgive me. My skin starts getting tight again. My mind going all sorts of places it doesn’t need to go, because I can’t stop getting angry—at Dad, at me. Every time I think about it, I feel like I did in the hallway that day.

  “You don’t get it. No one does. She could have come to family therapy, and she didn’t. I just… I don’t want to talk about it.” And then I turn to him because our free time today was supposed to just be about us. Nothing about our pasts, cutting, anger, or what we’re going to do when we get out. “I want to kiss you.”

  “Then you should.”

  I cup his cheek. Rub my thumb over his freckles and then lean in. I should probably go slower than I do, but the excitement is built too thick inside me. It wants to burst free, so I slip my tongue into his mouth and our teeth clink together before we find our groove.

  Stray’s hand knots in my shirt, and then he pulls as he leans back. He goes down onto the hay, taking me with him.

  I’m lying on him, and kissing him deeper. His hands dig into my sides. I’m hard and he’s hard, and it’s the first time I’ve been close enough to a guy to feel that against mine. It’s pretty freaking amazing. There’s nothing I want more in this moment than to keep going, but then there’s a clinking sound behind us. Just as I go to jerk back, arms grab me. Cloth gets shoved into my mouth. There’s two people holding me. No, three. Squeezing me. Pulling me away.

  Stray tries to shove to his feet but doesn’t get a chance. Brock puts a foot on Stray’s stomach, hate in his eyes, and a thick piece of wood in his hand.

  “Even if you scream, I’ll get a few hits in before they come.”

  Stray winces when Brock pushes harder on his gut. I jerk. Twitch. Pull. Kick. Whatever I can do to get away from the six arms holding me. Brock turns my way. “Same goes for you.”

  He gives his attention back to Stray. “Sorry you had to get in the middle of this, Jeremiah. People think I don’t pay attention, but I do. Best way to get to him is to hurt you. I guess you’re used to hurting, though, aren’t you? Knowing you, you might even get off on it.”

  “Hurry up!” Megan’s hushed voice comes from the front of the stables, where she must be watching the door.

  The three guys shove me to the ground, but I don’t stop fighting. I’m on my stomach, in the dirt. Someone’s holding my arms behind me. A body is on my legs. Another hand has my head shoved down, so I’m facing to the side. Seeing Stray.

  “If you’re quiet, it’s just you. You make noise and it’s him too,” Brock tells Stray.

  I fight. Try to yell around whatever’s in my mouth. No! Don’t do this. Don’t you dare fucking do this, Stray! Let them take this out on me.

  But I know he won’t. And he doesn’t.

  “I’ll be quiet,” he says.

  Brock smiles, thankfully drops the piece of wood, before his first punch slams into Stray’s face.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  DON’T TOUCH him! Don’t fucking touch him! My words only come out as grunts and groans, but they’re loud and powerful in my head, beating down on me the same as Brock hitting Stray.

  It goes both fast and slow.

  I fight, twist, turn, kick, but can’t get the bodies off me. I see both nothing and everything. My vision is blurry yet zeroed-in on Stray. I can’t breathe. Sharp pains pierce my chest. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing being done to me matters. Just him. Again, I’m standing by while someone I love gets hurt.

  The weight on me gets heavier as Brock swings again and again, each of his punches hitting its mark. Hitting Stray. His face is bloody. There’s hay stuck to the blood. Dirt burns my eyes, but I fight through it. If he has to live through this, I have to see it.

  The horses are neighing, getting restless, reacting to the smell of fear and anger, and I hope they can find a way to save Stray since I can’t.

  Stray doesn’t look at me. He’s doing it on purpose. It just makes me hate myself more than if he did.

  Makes me hate Brock too. Rosie was wrong. His past doesn’t matter. I don’t give a shit if he got jumped into a gang like this or anything else. The only thing that matters is what he’s doing now.

  “Someone’s coming! I’m out of here!” Megan’s voice whisper-yells from the front of the stables, and then she’s gone. Brock swings once more, landing a fist in Stray’s gut before he jerks back.

  “We got rid of Bethany, and now Stray too.” He spits at me, and then he runs.

  The weight on me is gone as they all scramble toward the door.

  My body’s numb as I hurry to Stray, pulling the bandana out of my mouth as I go. “Help!” I yell, dirt in my throat.

  “Shh. I’m okay. Don’t call anyone. That’s not how it works.” Stray’s voice breaks between each word. He groans, holds himself as I pull his head to my lap. Red mixes with the blue in his hair.

  “Fuck that!” He’s crazy if he thinks I’m not saying anything. Hell, he’s crazy if he thinks he can somehow get this past them. That other guy we saw beat up had nothing on Stray. He’s got a busted lip, a bloody nose, and a black eye. Who knows what he looks like under his shirt.

  “I’m fine,” he whispers, then squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ve had worse. They got their revenge. It’s over. We don’t know who did it. That’s how things work.” He rolls, grabs his side, hurt.

  My throat burns. Vomit crawls up it. It’s just like with Holly. I walked in. Saw him in her room. The visions start playing in my head. Her tears. Stray’s groans. I’m shaking. Making Stray vibrate. They both got hurt on my watch.

  I can’t hold the vomit back anymore. It’s close, but I manage to turn away before emptying my stomach into the hay, puke eating away at my esophagus.

  “Hunter—” Stray starts, but then there are other voices. People coming in. Checking out Stray. Trying to talk to me, but I don’t need them, he does.

  “It was Brock. Brock and his friends. They hurt Stray. Help him.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  I CAN’T feel my body. I’m not even sure I’m inside of it anymore. Well, I guess I have to be, but it’s like any kind of emotions or feelings
have been turned off. I’m blank. Empty.

  They hurt Stray. Because of me. Probably because of how I embarrassed Brock in the hallway that day.

  I scramble to my feet, ready to run, when someone grabs me. My stomach lurches as though I’m going to lose it again, but I don’t think there’s anything left to lose, anyway.

  “You can’t run off. We need to know what happened.”

  My eyes land on Christopher for just a second. “Brock beat Stray while three guys held me down. Megan was on watch. And now it’s their turn.” Because they can’t get away with that. I didn’t do anything when Dad hurt Holly. I told. That’s it. I didn’t defend her or get revenge for her. That’s not a mistake I’m going to let happen again.

  Turning, I try to pull free of Christopher’s hold. “Let. Me. Go.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to play vigilante and go take care of this. We’ll deal with it.”

  My arms tremble, unable to stay still. I’m unable to fight it. I shove at him, trying to get free, but he has some kind of fierce hold on me around my chest. In the background a quiet echo, as though they’re a hundred miles away instead of right next to me. Stray’s trying to talk to me, and they’re trying to calm me down, but I can’t stop, won’t stop fighting this. Not again.

  “Hunter, calm down. We need to take care of Stray, and we can’t do that while you’re fighting us. If you can’t relax, I’m going to have to sedate you.”

  My muscles stiffen at that. I remember the guy they gave the shot to in the cafeteria that one time. “You’re not putting anything into me.”

  “Then relax. Please.” He looks sad, like he gets it, but he can’t. “We’ll take care of things. I promise. You don’t have to. It’s not your job.”

  Yes… yes it is, I want to tell him, but I’m tired. So tired of fighting, of hurting, of being angry. My legs nearly give out, and I lean against someone… only it’s not Christopher. Mrs. Spencer is here now. She came straight to me. “I let him get hurt. I let someone I love get hurt again.”