A cold breeze made the hair on my arms stand up as I paced the width of the West High bike rack. I folded my arms around myself in a failed attempt to warm up. My mind was flooding with numbers; trying to latch onto to anything I thought Richard might use as a code. I stopped my stride for a moment, "try 23-12-52. It's his mother's birthday."
Bobby, kneeling next to an unconscious Charlie on the gravel, sighed. "Nope."
"Right," I stepped forward again and continued my pace.
Around midnight my landline had received a call. It turned out to be the panicked voice of Bobby telling me there had been a conflict between the east and west side, which resulted in a beaten, battered Charlie getting strapped to a bike rack with Richard's childhood lock.
I would surely find time to investigate who to be mad at for letting it escalate this far, but for now we needed to get Charlie out of the parking lot. Meaning I was left guessing what the combination might be.
"Maybe 04-15-92? That's when she passed away."
Bobby spun the dial around, whispering the numbers back to himself. "That's not it either."
A sudden groan sounded from Charlie's throat, and both our heads snapped towards him. I quickened my my pace to them and kneeled next to Bobby. Charlie kept making small noises, and slowly stretched some of his muscles. I hadn't gotten this close yet, but it was clear how much damage the east side boys had done. I wasn't sure if all the blood on his face came from his lip or his nose, and I could already see his eye swelling up.
I felt my stomach drop a little. Had Richard really been a part of this? I knew he hated Charlie, but I didn't know he was capable of this kind of violence. It just seemed too extreme for a dumb high school rivalry.
When his eyes fluttered open it took a second for him to take it all in. He glanced at both of us - glaring at me slightly - and tried to move his body to see what hurt. After a couple winces and a lot of blinking, he sunk back into his original position. "Those fucking assholes," even his voice sounded horse.
He jiggled his hand around, as if he could just slide it out of the lock. He couldn't; they'd wrapped it around his arm like a snake. He whined again, "awesome."
I couldn't help but giggle, and quickly hid it in a cough when he glowered in my direction. He turned to Bobby, "why'd you invite her?"
I scoffed, but before I could retort Bobby interrupted, "she's trying to guess the code to get you out."
I cut in, "so a little respect would be appreciated."
"Wait," Charlie yawned, stretching his neck to get a view of the lock. "It's Richard's?"
"Yeah, I think so."
He rolled his eyes, "02-10-88."
I raised my eyebrows, reaching for the lock aggressively to start entering numbers. When it unlatched and Charlie's arm fell, my jaw dropped. "Why would he trap you with a combination you knew?"
He massaged his wrist. "He's taunting me." Bobby slung Charlie's arm over his shoulder to help him up. I rushed to his other side to help carry the weight. He flinched away from me at first, but eventually gave in - he couldn't walk on his own. "It's a message."
"A message?" We limped towards Bobby's mom's car.
I helped shove Charlie into the front seat, and climbed into the middle of the back. Bobby started the car, and with empty roads we were speeding. He ignored me, so I asked again, "what kind of message? What does it mean? February 10th?"
"Mind your own goddamn business, East."
I growled, and flicked him in head despite his injuries. "Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time? Just answer the question!"
He shifted in his seat to glare back at me, giving me deja vu. He scoffed slightly under his breath, "I thought he would've told you eventually."
"Told me what?" He didn't answer, so I raised my voice, "told me what?"
He furrowed his brows, searching my face for deception, "you really don't know?"
"Know what?" I wasn't sure how I could make it any more obvious that I didn't know what he was talking about.
He looked taken aback, and turned around to ignore me. I gripped the seat below me to stop myself from grabbing and shaking him. I didn't have much time to dwell on his silence though, because we were quickly parked outside of Charlie's trailer. Bobby and I hobbled him towards the mobile home and as we did a head of raven hair popped through the door eagerly. She seemed like a mixture of angry and scarred - frantic. "Charlie, where have you been?"
That's when I recognized her, "Teresa?"
She did a double take, looking from me to Charlie and back to me, "Mabel?"
Charlie hung onto Bobby's side, "you two know each other?"
Teresa rushed forward to Charlie, inspecting his face with sad eyes. "It doesn't matter. What happened to you?"
He coughed and jutted his head toward me, "ask her ex boyfriend."
She looked at me with a bewildered expression, "that boy from the tea party did this?"
I shrugged, opening and closing my mouth a couple times, "I wasn't there."
"Look," Charlie stumbled a bit, and had to be steadied by Bobby. "Can we talk about this inside, please?"
Teresa supported Charlie on the opposite side as Bobby, so I went to hold the trailer door open for everyone. When they piled in, Bobby sat Charlie on his bed, and Teresa got a wet rag. She tended to his wounds immediately, asking him frantic questions. "Did you provoke them? Where did it happen? Does it hurt here? Here? What about here?"
Through all of it Charlie gave bored answers, and shrugged her away like a little kid embarrassed by his mom. "Maybe. West High parking lot. No. Kind of. Ouch- yes."
I wondered who she was to him. I knew he didn't have any siblings, and I had met his mom when we were kids. Yet I could tell they were related. They shared the raven hair, and more noticeably, the blue eyes. She was older, but not too much. I guessed she was a cousin, but then I remembered a brief moment when he said his aunt was sleeping the day I brought him coffee.
I tried to remember the look of Charlie's mother, and even from that childhood recollection it was clear Teresa was her sister. She must have been staying with him, but that left me to wonder - where was his mother?
From the conversation between Charlie and Teresa I gathered three things: the east side boys started it, there were five of them, and they didn't try to hurt Bobby unless he got in the way. From this point of view it seemed really, really bad. I still promised myself I wouldn't let the sour taste in my mouth take over until I got Richard's side of the story.
Soon Charlie was all cleaned up, and Teresa forced him to lay down with a rag over his head, even though he protested that he was totally fine. He fell asleep seemingly immediately. Teresa ushered Bobby and I outside.
"Bobby," she scolded, pointing a finger. "Was he telling the truth in there?"
Bobby nodded, "yes m'am."
"Mabel," she turned to me. "Why is your ex after my nephew?"
I flowered for an answer, "I-uh-it's-eh..." It was hard to justify why my boyfriend might beat someone up and lock them in a parking lot. I mean, it was really nothing more than some unresolved pre-teen drama. I couldn't comprehend why he did this either.
Bobby cut me off, thankfully. "She's the marshmallow."
I asked, "the what?" At the same time Teresa exclaimed, "oh."
Bobby winced a little, trying to explain it to me, "it's your code name."
"Why would I need a code name?"
"We don't need everyone at school knowing you're helping us out, and- never mind."
I was getting really frustrated with all the secrecy I'd been introduced to tonight. I didn't know who to trust, on either side of the equation. "Never mind, what?"
Teresa changed the subject, pulling both of us in for a hug. "It was nice to see you again, and thank you for helping out, but it's time you two kids got home." She ushered us towards Bobby's car. "Your parents are probably worried sick." I hoped my parents hadn't noticed I was gone; I didn't climb out of the window again for nothing.
Bobby and I drove most of the way to my house in comfortable silence. It wasn't until we parked in my driveway, and I went to grab the car door handle, that he interrupted me. "What's going on, Mabel? Are you and Rich just doing this to torture him or what?"
I swallowed, trying to find the courage not to vent to him. His eyes were kind, and I felt like I could be honest with him, but I wouldn't. "I'll tell you why I'm doing what I'm doing if you tell me what Charlie was talking about tonight."
"I don't know what he w-"
"Yes you do." I pleaded with my eyes for him to give it away.
"Okay - maybe I do - but I might just be jumping to conclusions."
"So you won't tell me?"
"No," he huffed. "Bro code."
I rolled my eyes.
•••
Apparently it wouldn't be as easy as I thought to sneak in from the front door, given the fact Margaret was waiting for me. The house was dark but a single lamp shined on her while she looked up from her book at me. I wondered how she would react; it was different every time. Would she give me the silent treatment again? Blow up and yell at me for an hour?
Instead she calmly beckoned me towards her with the bending of her finger. I sat next to her on the couch and peaked over at the book she was reading - which turned out to be a photo album. She gestured to the photo of my great grandmother. "Mabel, do you think Grandma would be proud of you right now?"
I stood up swiftly, tugging at my hair and trying not to yell. "Seriously, mom? This is your new parenting tactic? Ancestry guilt?"
She uncrossed her legs, raising a single eyebrow at me. It was out of character of me to talk back, but it was nearly 3AM and I just didn't have the energy to bite my tongue this time.
She stood to match height with me, setting the book down and swaying her ponytail. "Mabel Marie Abram, you are in no position to be arguing with me right now! May I remind you that in the last month you've ditched a tea party, nearly burned a school down, and snuck out twice?"
"I get it! I'm a bad daughter!" I knew I shouldn't be starting a war with my mother while I was already involved in one between high school boys, but I couldn't help myself. I had so much pent up frustration that I tried to keep from projecting onto everyone, and I was tired. "Do you really think showing me a picture of a woman who died before I was born is going to make me stop?"
She was breaking character now too, showing other emotions on her usually stoic face. It was as if for years we had just been dancing around each other rather than face the reality of our deteriorating relationship. "No, but what will, Mabel? What will? I've tried everything! Do you have any idea how hard it is to be your mother?"
I pressed my hands to my face in frustration, "do you have any idea how hard it is to be your daughter? Maybe the reason I'm acting up is because I've never had any freedom! God, I've never done anything out of order before now!"
She stuck up her nose. "Young lady, do I have to ground you from going to your own debutante ball?"
"Please!" I was yelling now, wishing in the back of my mind that my father would wake up and end this fight. "Do you even know me at all? The last thing I want is to be paraded around stage like a trophy!"
"Well then," she roughly lifted her nightgown and spun to walk away, "you will be going. That's final."
In a storm of pent up anger I stomped up the stairs to my bedroom. Half of me wanted to crawl into bed and scream in my pillow, but I had something else to check up on. I grabbed the pink box I had stashed under my bed, took off the lid, and searched for my 1988 diary within fifteen years worth of them.
February 10th, 1998
Dear Diary,
Today Mom and I made valentine cookies for our class party tomorrow! She says kids will like them way more than Elizabeth's suckers. I think the suckers will be good too, though. I want to have a mountain of candy, even if it's full of Elizabeth's suckers.
I asked her if we could bring one to Charlie even though he doesn't go to my school, but it turns out we only made enough for the people in my class. It's kind of sad. I might bring him something somebody puts in my box tomorrow. Or I could keep it all for myself. It might go either way. I'm sure Charlie's school has their own valentine party. I'll ask him.
I almost forgot! Richard came over! He ate a cookie when my mom wasn't looking so I told him he wouldn't get one tomorrow. He left after that though. His dad was mad about something, so he came to pick him up.
Also, my homework is really boring. I'm writing in you now because I want my mom to think I'm working on it. Long division is hard...
What was Richard in trouble for on February 10th? When we were in sixth grade? Did it have something to do with Charlie? I couldn't bother to think about it anymore. I put my diary away and fell on my pillow.