Those few phone conversations had done little to alleviate the frustration I’d felt about our relationship. While I tried to pretend nothing had changed, it was obvious Gianna was distancing herself emotionally. Gritting my teeth, I sometimes barely kept myself from lashing out at her on the phone or in letters. It wasn’t that she didn’t say I love you back, because she did. It was her acting more like a friend over the phone than my girlfriend. And I wanted my girlfriend back.
She’d promised to visit me soon, once she was cleared to drive again. I didn’t mention she could always get a ride from a friend. Possibly her dad would bring her here if she asked. The guy was likely still giving her whatever she wanted after what happened to her. If I were him, I’d feel all sorts of misplaced guilt.
I made sure to remind her at the end of each call how many days until we’d be together again. I lived for that countdown. My brain updated that number when I woke up each morning.
After obsessing in solitary for what seemed like hours about things I had no control over, I finally fell asleep.
*****
We were escorted straight to the warden after breakfast the following morning. The seven of us remained mute as the warden lectured us and threatened that the incident would be on our permanent records.
In class, I threw myself into my schoolwork. Later, I’d make sure to use my phone time to call my mom and leave a message on Gianna’s voicemail. Those messages ensured she’d be thinking of me as I constantly thought of her.
When I spoke with her on Saturdays, I tried my best not to be angry with her. I realized she couldn’t help being messed up after what Josh did to her. Hell, maybe the time apart was exactly what she needed. Selflessness wasn’t a natural trait of mine, but I attempted it for her sake.
If I were able to be with her, I’d be as protective and understanding of her as possible, but I’d eventually enact a little tough love. I was sure I could think of something to force her out of her despondency.
In art class, I started a new painting. This one was going to be of Gianna laughing. If I couldn’t make the real Gianna laugh anymore, at least I could capture on canvas the memory of it. There wasn’t enough time to complete it today. I’d finished the sketching and played with color choices.
Ms. Singh had gotten the administration’s agreement to letting me come in for a few hours on the weekends to work on my paintings. She’d argued it was better than me doing brainless activities like watching television or playing basketball. Sometimes Ian got permission to sit in the art room with me. When he wasn’t bragging about all the chicks he planned to bang after he was released, he was sculpting inappropriate things out of clay.
Once my brushes were cleaned and I’d stored my unfinished piece, I said goodbye to Ms. Singh.
As payback for getting us in trouble yesterday, I tripped Ian while passing him in the hallway. The guards weren’t paying attention at the moment, so he retaliated by kicking me hard in the back of my thigh. I’d get back at him for that.
During my phone time, on impulse, I called Hailey. Being a bad girl, she’d apparently skipped school and answered after I was forced to listen to the angsty chick rock song she used as her ringback tone. Five seconds of my life I’d never get back.
Obviously not recognizing the number, Hailey answered my call with a wary, “Hello?”
“Is this 1-800-YOU-SLUT?” I asked in a gruff voice.
“No, it’s 1-800-KICK-ASS,” she replied before screaming into the phone, “Oh my god, Caleb! I can’t believe you’re calling me. I heard they locked your ass up. Good riddance was my first thought.”
“Still mad at me?” I teased.
“Yes. Are still mad at me, too?”
“Yes. You acted like a crazy bitch.”
It didn’t matter that I’d changed from the days when Hailey and I would get drunk and screw around with each other or other people. I was bored out of my mind and she was sure to provide entertainment.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to. I know you have some good stories for me,” I told her.
By the time a guard tapped my shoulder telling me my time was up, I was laughing my head off at her antics. She’d better watch it or she’d end up in here with me and Ian.
CHAPTER THREE
“Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.”
-Lance Armstrong
FEBRUARY
GIANNA
I couldn’t breathe.
Ripping the comforter from my body, I stumbled over to my bedroom window. I flipped the lock open and pushed the heavy window up. Leaning my face against the screen, I shivered as cold winter air hit me. It wasn’t snowing like last night, but the temperature was below freezing nonetheless.