Page 25 of Run
Despite only wearing a sports bra and gym shorts, I’m sweating over the stove because—regardless of the heat—Axel still wants a hot dinner. I have my hair in a pair of braids and feel sweat dripping down the center part of my scalp.
Axel’s arrival is announced with the slam of the front door. Lena is already home, having arrived a few minutes ago and heading straight for the shower. I hear a thud and turn to see Axel has stumbled into the couch. Steadying himself against the armrest as he tries to take off his work boots, he looks up and sees me. “Be a doll an’ c’mere and help yer old man get these things off, would’ya,” he slurs.
Aggravated, I walk over and kneel down, grabbing one of his unlaced boots and pulling three times before the boot comes loose and I go flying back and land on my butt. Axel chuckles because he’s drunk.
That gets me laughing, too.
I get back on my feet and bend over, hinging at the hips, to unlace his other shoe and yank that one, which comes off much easier. He laughs again, and so do I, while leaning over to pick up his boots and toss them toward the door. I feel a quick, hardswat on my butt and turn quickly to see Axel looking at me … strangely.
“What’s that little getup you got on there, girl?” His eyes fall down my body, causing me to cross my arms over my chest. “I saw you stompin’ ’round the yard with dat boy across the street. He gettin’ some, huh?”
I quickly walk over to the stove and stir the rice again, goosebumps crawling up and down my arms. I feel him approach behind me.
“You know,” he begins, and I spin around to face him, cowering under this new glare he’s giving me. Again, he looks me up and down, his eyes catching on my sports bra. Alcohol wafts off his breath and tickles my face. “Redheads are known for being feisty.” He reaches up and takes the end of one of my braids in his hand, using it like a paintbrush to draw a line over my collarbone. “Are you feisty, Arlene? Is that why you’re prancing around here in underwear? You trying to get my attention?”
The hiss of the rice bubbling over breaks his attention, and Axel drops my hair as I spin and turn the burner off and move the pot of rice over. He presses in closer behind me, placing a hand on my hip. Burying his nose at my neck, he inhales, then turns and walks away. I hear the sound of the shower get louder when Axel opens the door to the bathroom, and he says, “Lena, baby, here I come!”
Letting out a breath, I run over to the dresser and grab a T-shirt—the first one I find—and tug it over my head, then pull off my shorts and put on a pair of pajama pants. I’m going to sweat to death but don’t care; at least I won’t be inviting his filthy paws on my body again.
We eat dinner like nothing happened. Axel and Lena watchJeopardyandWheel of Fortunewhile I sit at the table and pretend to do homework. Once they go to bed, I wait until Axel’ssnores drift down the hall, then go into the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet, I find the scissors Lena uses to trim her hair. Holding them, I stare at myself in the tri-fold mirror. Oddly, this hurts just as much as some of the hardest hits I’ve taken from Axel, so I move quickly before losing my courage.
With three squeezes of my hand, I saw the scissors through one braid it until the tension breaks and my hand falls away with it, and the hair left attached to my head unravels in a short, choppy mess. I do the same with the other side, dropping the discarded braids on the floor and placing the scissors on the top of the sink.
I climb into bed, sweating in my pajama pants, and this time keep my back to the wall and my eyes open until the sun comes up.
***
“Morning, Red!” Ethan chirps, bounding down the front stoop. “What’s with the ball cap today?”
Gripping the shoulder straps of my backpack, I look down at my feet and lie to him as we each approach the bus stop. “I have a serious case of bedhead.”
He hands me a waffle that’s partly wrapped in a napkin, then taps his own to mine in cheers and we both take a bite.
We ride to school as usual and head our separate ways once we get there, and I’m thankful Ethan’s not around when the first insults come.
“You know, Arlene, hiding that hideous mop of yours under a hat doesn’t make you look any less ugly,” Elena snarls as she walks by and flips the bill of my cap up, causing it to fly off my head, exposing my uneven tresses. She and her evil little sidekicks laugh like a bunch of hyenas, pointing at me as they call attention to us.
“Oh, wow,” adds Jessica. “Did you have a run-in with Edward Scissorhands?” The whole crowd cackles, and I just stand there and take it. Let them get it all out. Maybe if they exhaust all their insults now they can get on with their day.
“Yeah,” Elena starts in, “she can’t afford a real haircut because she really is just poor white trash.”
I look up and am horrified to see Sean in the crowd just staring at me pitifully. He’s not laughing, but he’s not defending me, either. Slowly, trying not to let these people know they get to me, I reach down and pick up the hat, place it back on my head, turn and—still slowly—brush past the crowd and out the doors of the school.
For once, I’m too exhausted to run. Instead, I make my way to the football field, climb to the top of the bleachers, and let the backpack slide off my shoulders. I look over the fence at the ground, imagining I’m standing on a bridge and wondering if I would have the courage to jump.
Stepping down and sitting on the top bench, I turn and lay back, bringing my feet up.
My phone vibrates in my backpack. Obviously it’s Ethan, since he’s the only one who has the number. It stops and then starts again, but I don’t have the energy to answer it. At least two gym classes use the track before I hear steps coming up the stairs and stop by my head, and a thud of what I assume is a backpack hitting the stands. My eyes open to see Ethan’s upside-down face inches from mine, his unruly brown hair hanging down and framing his eyes.
“Cheese and rice, Ari! I’ve been looking all over for you! Why haven’t you answered your phone? How long have you been up here? What are you doing?” When I don’t answer, he sighs and sits down next to me, gently lifting my head and sliding over so he’s cradling it in his lap. “Sean told me the girls were giving youhell, again. What was it today? They don’t like your clothes? You showed them up in class?”
Ethan adjusts my head and my hat falls off. He grabs it before it hits the floor and places it on the bleacher next to him, and starts running his fingers through my hair. I wait for him to notice.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi …
“What the—?” He gently grabs a handful of my cropped hair. “Ari, who did this?”
I sit up as he swivels, raising a leg and swinging it to the other side of the bleacher so he’s straddling it, facing me. I keep looking forward, gripping the seat with my hands at my sides, knowing how ugly I look.Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.
