Bulletproof (#1) ✔

13: Franny

    "You stalking me now?" I ask with amusement.

    Tyler rolls his eyes. "I usually go for a run. Can't exactly do that with the huge knife wound, so a walk was the next best thing."

    "You go for a run at ten-thirty?" I raise an eyebrow.

    Tyler shrugs. "Slept in. Took more pain meds and they made me drowsy."

    I nod. "Is your cut okay?"

    He lets out a humorless laugh. "Been better. Hasn't started to bleed out yet so I'm taking that as a good sign."

    "You shouldn't really be up and about at all," I say. "You should be resting."

    Tyler takes a step forward and slowly sits down beside me on the bench. "I'm okay. If I had to stay inside all day, I'd probably go insane."

    I smile a little and pull my cardigan around me a bit tighter.

    "Why are you here?" he finally asks after a break of silence.

    I suck my inner cheek in between my teeth and stare down at the ground. Why am I here? I can easily just come up with a lie. Say that I need fresh air, too. Say that I always go for a walk at this time of day. Or maybe I could just stop lying. Maybe I could finally tell someone. I can't bring myself to tell Tally about my dad . . . so perhaps a stranger is the next best thing.

    "I . . . " I start and then turn my head to look at him. His face still looks a mess and his eyes are steady on mine. "My dad," I say, and I want to slap myself. I don't know why I suddenly start to rattle everything off but I do. I guess it really is just the fact that he's a stranger, a boy I've known personally for just a few days. It eases the worry of being judged. I know that I should tell this to someone closer—I should tell this to Tally. She trusted me by telling me she's bisexual. I should trust her back. But this isn't just about trust. I'm not comfortable telling Tally yet. One day, but not now.

    "He's a drunk." I speak firmly, but I feel weak inside. "It started when my mom died. I was fifteen . . . you don't want to hear this." I shake my head.

    "It isn't a matter of whether I want to hear it," Tyler says softly. "It's whether you want to say it."

    I lick my lips nervously. "Okay. Well my mom was a cop—the sheriff, to be exact. It wasn't a huge job, I mean there aren't really huge armed robberies or anything happening here, but she took her job seriously. Too seriously." I scratch the bridge of my nose and look down at the ground. "She picked me up from school one day when I was feeling sick. We stopped off at a little store to get some candy to make me feel better. She always did stupid stuff like that." I breathe out a laugh. "But when we pulled into a parking space, and I reached out to open the door, my mom's arm shot out and she stopped me. I didn't know what was happening until I looked up and saw a guy dressed in black inside the store waving a gun around. He was trying to get the worker to take all the money from the cash register.

    "Many other people would have just walked away. Acted like they never saw it. But that wasn't my mom. She told me to get on the floor between the seat and the glove compartment. I asked her what she was going to do. She just smiled at me. I did what she told me, and watched her walk inside the store. She didn't even have a gun on her. She was off duty. But that didn't stop her. It never stopped her. She was always full of pride for the job, and being good and helping everyone. She helped everyone so much that this time she forgot to help herself. I watched her hold her hands up and the guy with the gun was thrashing it around everywhere. I could see her lips moving. She was trying to calm him down, coming closer and closer to him. He stopped moving his gun and I thought she'd done it. I thought she'd fixed everything.

"But in the next second, the gun was pointed right at her and it went off. He was so close to her that it knocked her right to the floor. I remember being scared shitless. I didn't know what to do so I just stayed on the floor and wrapped my arms around my legs as tightly as I could. I cried and stared at the floor until the police found me. The man with the gun got away. With the money."

    Tyler is silent, and I can't tell if it's from lack of words or to give me the space I need. A part of me can't believe that I just told him all that. I feel like any second he's going to just laugh and walk away. But another part tells me that he's nothing like that. That he would never disrespect someone in such a way.

    "So, then my mom was dead. Just like that," I continued. "There was nothing else to it. There was no slow breakdown or moment to process it. She was gone. It was the night of her funeral that I lost my dad too. He seemed normal during the day but then he went and drank through the night. I didn't see him for three days. Ever since he's been blank. He does stupid things and doesn't even think about the consequences for five seconds. He gambles our money away—I know he does."

I run a hand over my cheek as a tear falls. "I don't want to admit that he's really just an asshole."

    More tears run down my cheeks. They run down my neck, making my skin wet and uncomfortable. Tyler still hasn't said anything and by now, my hands are covering my face and I'm hunching over my knees. Sobs rack through my body and I want to stop them. I want to grasp onto what little dignity I have left. But my wayward emotions won't let me. And so I continue to cry. And cry and cry and cry.

    Until I feel a hand on my shoulder.

    I move my head away from my hands and turn to look at Tyler, who stares back, his warm palm on the top of my cardigan. He doesn't move his hand, but just lets it sit there, and I cling onto that warmth that spreads through me from his touch.

    "Sorry," I mumble and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

    Tyler shrugs. "It's okay to cry. And it's even more okay to cry after saying something like that. It obviously wasn't easy for you. Thanks for trusting me with it. I'm sorry for your loss."

    I nod slowly. "I don't know why I trust you with it. I don't know why I just told you all of that. It just felt right. I'm sorry if it was too much."

    Tyler shakes his head, slowly pulling his hand away but not before dragging it lightly down my back. "It's okay. Really, Franny. I don't mind."

    "Thanks," I say quietly, rubbing the back of my hand over my face.

    "You were there for me yesterday," he says. "So I'll be here for you today."

    I laugh breathily through my tears and blink the last ones away. "Okay."

    He gives me a genuine smile and puts his hand on my back once more. "Alright, come on."

    He begins to stand up and I follow quickly to keep his hand on my back. It stays there. A soft wind blows over us, but it isn't unpleasant. It's welcoming and soothing. I cross my arms over my chest anyway and follow beside Tyler as we walk around the side of the school and down through smaller estates.

    It's nice. Just a basic, normal thing to do. And that's what I need—some normality.

    The whole time, his hand never leaves my back.

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