“She’s not that bad,” Violet said. “She helped me open my locker the other day. Plus, I’m going to her house this weekend. Did you know her grandpa owns a bar?”

HA! I wanted to say. Jordyn has no problem screwing me up when I try to open my locker but she’s all nice when Violet needs the help.

I wanted to tell Violet to be careful, that Jordyn was two-faced and sneaky. I wanted to tell her about the time in second grade when Jordyn put her brownie on my seat just before I sat down and it looked like I pooped my pants and I wanted to tell her about how mean she was to me in volleyball practice.

But what I really wanted to tell Violet was how last year Jordyn stole Gabe from Gemma, who was supposedly her best friend. Gemma liked Gabe first and they were “going out,” which is really stupid because going out in fifth grade just means sitting by each other at the high school football games.

Gemma got mono and when she came back to school a few weeks later, Gabe and Jordyn were dating. Gemma didn’t talk to Jordyn for like a week but then, like Jordyn does, she acted all innocent and hurt. Like it was Gemma’s fault. Of course Gemma ended up forgiving Jordyn.

I guess if I was being honest, I probably would have done the same thing. No one likes having Jordyn on their bad side.

So I wanted to tell Violet all this but then my sister pounded on my door and yelled that Violet’s mom was there to pick her up so I didn’t get the chance.

Then the house phone started ringing and when I went to answer it whoever was on the other end just sat there and didn’t say anything so I just hung up.

This happened like five times until my mom stepped in and answered the phone and told them that we had caller ID and she was going to call the police and report them for harassment. We don’t have caller ID but the phone calls stopped. I bet it was Jordyn.

Thomas Petit Monday, April 16, 2018

Thomas Petit

Monday, April 16, 2018

Thomas pulls Jordyn’s damp jacket from the washing machine. The blood appears to be completely washed away. He lifts it just inches from his face to get a better look. He’s tempted to douse it with bleach but quickly dismisses the idea. It was just a spot of blood. Kids bleed all the time. Hell, as youngsters his boys were plastered in Band-Aids on any given day from all the scrapes and scratches they collected.