Comeback by Vicki Grant

Author:Vicki Grant [Grant, Vicki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV000000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2010-02-28T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

No. No. No. No. That’s all I can think. This is wrong. It’s a mistake. It has to be.

I’m trembling like an old man. I google S.J. Patterson. The Herald, The Times, Newsnet—they’re all running the same story.

Somebody—some sad, bitter, twisted little person who was jealous of Dad’s success or couldn’t stand how popular he was or who hated him for some other petty reason—made up a lie, and now everybody believes it.

I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to stop it.

I think of our Media Arts teacher talking to us about net safety. Warning us how writing one stupid thing, posting one “inappropriate” photo could haunt you for the rest of your life.

I can’t stop it. I’ll never be able to stop it.

I hear Mom moving around upstairs, and some younger part of me wants to run to her, crying. I know right away, though, that she won’t help me. She doesn’t love Dad anymore. She’d no doubt be happy to finally have an excuse for kicking him out.

I squeegee the tears off my face with my hands and force my lips to stay still. I’ve got to figure out what to do. Call the media? Talk to a lawyer? What good would that do? I’m a kid. I’m his kid. Who’s going to listen to me?

I do the only thing I can think of. I call Colin.

His phone’s off.

Of course. “No cell phones on school property.”

I’m suddenly afraid that Mom’s going to come down the stairs and find me like this.

I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll go to school. I check the time. Colin will be in French. He’ll know what to do.

I go into the bathroom and splash water on my face. I look terrible. My skin’s the color of raw bacon.

I can’t go out like this. Dad would never go out like this. “Put on your game face and your best shirt.” That’s what he always says.

I hide my grungy T-shirt under the Club Monaco coat I bought just before everything happened. I brush my hair into a ponytail. Rub on some concealer, mascara and lip-gloss. I should put my contacts in too, but there’s only so much my eyes can take.

Luckily, Colin left the LeSabre here last night. I grab the keys and scream up the stairs, “I’m going to school. Can you pick up Elliot?” I slip out the door before Mom can ask why.

The pile of flowers and cards on our front lawn has tripled since Sunday. It made me mad the first time I saw it, but not anymore. Now it’s proof those stories are all garbage. Look, everyone! See how much people love Steve Patterson!

I run down the steps to take a closer look. Yellow roses from someone named Stacy. A card “from your favorite baristas!” A candle from Mrs. Purcell across the street. And a cardboard sign written in bright red letters—Burn in hell, you scumbag.

I almost lose my balance. I scrunch the sign up and stuff it into my purse.

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