Falling Down and Out

This story is dedicated to anyone who has gone through anything described. I only understand what I’ve gone through, but I hope that my experiences have made this a worthwhile reading experience.

However, a warning to anyone who is severely upset by self-harming, sexual assault, or violent crime. All three are described to the best of my ability, in ways that enhance the story. These are included as part of Katie’s storyline because they all affect her life drastically. The story is not just about her and Joey, it’s about how they got to where they ended up.

Also, the basic idea originally came from a James Patterson novel, Confessions of a Murder Suspect. The idea evolved and took on a life of its own, separate from James Patterson’s novel; no copyright infringement was intended. All the characters, the plot, and the situations are figments of my wild imagination.

Enjoy.

*****

Me and Joey, we’d known each other for a while. He and I grew up together, swimming five and six days a week from the time when I was five. He was my brother’s best friend, two years older. And he became mine, too, in time. How it went so bad so fast, we may never know. But I do know this. One, I really did care about him. No matter what the police are saying. Their harsh stares in my direction prove nothing. Two, we never were officially a couple. We had dated on and off, but we never made anything official. No strings attached. And three? Joey is dead. He was stabbed and killed last night. And the police have a list of suspects, with my name on it.

It was never supposed to happen. Joey was eighteen, two years older than me, on his way to University of Pennsylvania with a full scholarship for swimming. He was a fantastic swimmer, always had been. I was never as good as him, but I held my own. We also used to skateboard together. I deny it constantly at my prestigious private school, MPI, but I adored skateboarding. The story of how this all really started when I was eight, on my eighth birthday to be specific.

Eight years ago....

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!!” I shouted, “Can I open them yet? Can I open my presents?” Bouncing around the room, ecstatic, I bothered my mom as she made my birthday cake: strawberry shortcake with cream cheese icing, my favorite.

“Not yet, sweetie, but you can open them at the party later,” she responded, laughing, “I thought you were a big girl.” My face fell. How could she suggest that? I had lived for a whole EIGHT YEARS. I had to be a big kid by now.

“But, Mommy, why not?” I asked, terribly disappointed, “Hey, how ‘bout I just open one? Please!” My mom smiled and relented, calling my brother and father downstairs to watch. Max, my brother, was ten, then, and loathed the fact that he had a little sister, especially such an annoying one. Still, he came down the steps with his badly wrapped present and handed it to me, grinning. He knew what it was, of course. I had been begging for a skateboard ever since Max had gotten one from Christmas about six months ago. I knew that it would be among my presents. It had to be.

My parents were thrilled to see Max and I connect finally. We were only two years apart, but we fought constantly about everything. But that stupid skateboard changed everything. Suddenly, we were wearing jeans, t-shirts, beanies, helmets over beanies, and those silly Sketchers shoes that were oh so cool. (While many things have changed since then, our outfits have only really been updated with new shoes – the years of Converse and Vans have never been so sweet.) And that love of skateboarding was how I really got to know Joey.

Three days after my birthday party (which was fun enough, but not particularly memorable), my parents took Max and I to a local skate park for the first time. It’s only a few blocks from where we used to live, so Max and I skateboarded while my parents walked behind us. I had already mastered the basics, and Max and I soon were boarding all over the skate park. Max was working on some stupid trick that the guys at the skate park were trying to teach him when he fell. Hard. I ran over at the same time as Joey. And I pushed Joey out of the way to get to my brother, who wasn’t crying yet. Joey looked furious, but I only noticed my brother’s pain. We already had a twin-like connection, even back then.