by Angel Lawson
I’m in the middle of Lit when there’s a tap on the classroom door. I’m busy taking the notes when I hear my teacher say, “Starlee, you’ve been called to the office. Take your books, class is ending soon.”
I close my notebook and gather my stuff, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, ignoring everyone watching me leave the room. At this point I’m used to everyone’s attention, but I still hate it. It brings up all the anxiety I’ve worked so hard to bury and it’s getting harder and harder to push back down again.
There’s one set of eyes that I feel the most—Christina. She’s hyper-focused on everything I do, although if I look at her she’ll pretend to be busy; taking notes, typing on her phone, studying her nails. I sense her watching now but I don’t give her the satisfaction of glancing her way. She’s not worth it.
My teacher hands me the hall pass and I leave the room, stepping into the cooler air of the hallway. The paper says to go to room 105—which is not the office. It takes me a few minutes since I’m not fully acclimated to the building yet but it’s on the first level, next to the chorus room.
The whole thing seems super weird and I double-check the note from the again. It’s on an official slip—Mrs. Cline’s signature is at the bottom. I turn the knob and open the door, but there’s no adult inside. It’s my wayward sons. And Claire.
“What’s going on?” I say, both excited and wary. I’m still clinging to the note.
Claire smiles. “I work in the office during second period. Since you guys are banned from seeing one another, I used my limited but useful power to get us all into one room at the same time without anyone noticing.”
I’m stunned and confused but Jake doesn’t waste the moment. He walks over and pulls me into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around me. “We’re going to figure this out,” he whispers in my ear. My heart thuds erratically just being near him.
“Thank you,” I say to Claire once he releases me. I scan the boys. They all look tired. Charlie in particular. I don’t hesitate to walk over and link my fingers with his. He gives me a tight smile in return and squeezes back.
“Since you guys are all too close to this situation, I’ve decided to insert myself into your problem. Mostly because I loathe Christina and we all know she’s behind this.”
“We know why,” Dexter says, glancing at Jake, “but how? How did she get the police to listen to her or our social workers?”
“Maybe through her dad or something?” Claire says. “He’s a lawyer. He’d know people.”
Dexter’s jaw clenches tight as he nods. “Well, that sucks.”
“It does. I know you think that the rule about not seeing Starlee is the hardest part right now, but I think you need to look at the bigger picture,” she says, leaning on the director’s platform.
“Getting the twins back home,” I say. “That’s the priority.”
George looks like he’s about to argue but Charlie shoots him a look and says, “We’re fine. Starlee’s name needs to be cleared in all this so we can see each other again. It’s pointless being back at Sierra’s if she’s considered a risk.”
“Can we do both?” Jake asks. “Aren’t they sort of the same thing?”
“I made the decision to run away from home,” I explain. “I can’t change the past but we need to show everyone that Sierra can be trusted and while we’re doing that maybe they’ll start to trust me.”
“How are we going to do that?” Dexter asks, arms crossed over his chest.
“By following the rules,” Claire says. “Stay away from each other at school, don’t cross paths at home. Don’t give Christina anything she can use against you.”
“For how long?” Jake asks.
“Until my hearing,” Dexter says, catching on. “It’s right after New Year. Starlee, you should come and talk to the judge yourself.”
“So what? We have to stay away from one another for four weeks?” I laugh. “We’ve done longer.”
“And it sucked,” George grumbles. “I don’t like this plan and I don’t see how it’s going to make a difference for me and Charlie.”
“You’re going to keep your nose clean, follow the rules and wait out my probation,” Dexter says. “We’ll get Sierra’s license reinstated and after that, you guys petition Mrs. Delange to let you come back home.”
“If we make it that long,” Charlie mutters under his breath. I tighten my grip on his hand again.
Jake runs his hands through his hair. “This seems really freaking complicated.”
“Oh right, and Jake, you need to neutralize Christina,” Claire says with a grimace.
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.”
I raise an eyebrow, not sure how I feel about that.
“So, I guess we’re at zero contact for the next four weeks?” I say, not liking it one bit.
“Can you do that?” Claire asks, looking at each one of us. “Can you stay away from Starlee until the probation hearing?”
Since we’re doing it together, I don’t feel as lost as I did the day before but as we each say yes, that we can do it—we can stay apart—there’s the nagging desire that never leaves me, hasn’t left since that day I kissed them all by the waterfall.
Saying we’ll stay away from one another is one thing.
Doing it is something else entirely.
8
Starlee
The first test comes on Thursday night. Supernatural night. The show is on winter hiatus but that doesn’t mean the ritual is forgotten. I was willing to let it go, as were the boys and I suspect Sierra, but Leelee? She has other plans.
“I thought we could have dinner at our house,” my grandmother says the day before. I’m working on homework in the front of the office. It feels better not to be alone right now.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I confess. She still doesn’t know that Sierra has forbidden Dex and Jake from seeing me. “Everyone is still pretty upset about the twins.”
“I can call their dad and invite them too.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not sure it works like that.”
“Well that’s just foolish.” She shakes her head. “Those boys worked for me. They were like family. I’m supposed to just cut them off?”
I rest my pencil on my notebook. “Apparently, yes.”
“I don’t like it.”
Join the club, Leelee. Join the club.
The next day, I get off the bus and walk into the office and find Katie at the desk. “Where’s LeeLee?”
“Prepping for your TV night,” she says without looking up from the computer.
“Wait, she’s doing that?” I thought she’d taken the hint. Did this mean she called Mr. Evans? Sierra? “Call me if you need any help. I’m going to go check on her.”
Katie grunts and I make the quick walk to the cottage. Crowley’s out in the backyard and he barks at me as I go down the path. Once inside, I find Leelee in the kitchen. The oven is on, the stove is hot. “Oh good,” she says when she sees me, “They’ll be here at seven. Go ahead and get your homework finished.”
I tilt my head. “Who is going to be there at seven?”
“Everyone.” She smiles. “Well, hopefully everyone. Obviously, Sierra and the boys next door. I called Mr. Evans.” Her smile vanishes. “He’s a tough one. But the invitation is out there. I hope he lets them come.”
I stand in the kitchen doorway, confused at what’s going on. We agreed to stay away from one another. And we had. For two full days. Two long, torturous days of seeing Dexter walk down the hall, his dark hair feral from being shoved under his cap. And catching a glimpse of Jake’s broad shoulders as he took out the trash next door. And the constant worry I have over the twins, noticing the dark shadows grow under Charlie’s eyes and wondering if George got his applications turned in. It pains me not to be with them. Touch and support them. Before I had them in little doses—tiny bursts in my day, but this? This
is a different level of torture. It was easier when I was across the country. But I did it, for them, and I’ve pushed through all of that. Managed it, and now my grandmother is forcing us together?
It’s like the fates are working against us.
I’m even more convinced of this two hours later when Leelee shouts at me to open the door and I’m face-to-face with two gorgeous boys and all their freshly showered smells and pink kissable lips and all my willpower threatens to crack.
“Hi,” I say, forcing myself to look past them and at Sierra. I haven’t seen her since she told me not to come near the boys anymore.
Dexter’s holding a pastry box that smells as amazing as he does and I tell him to take it to Leelee. Jake shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hook behind the door and after a moment of awkwardness, follows Dex.
Sierra and I face one another, she’s still on the porch as if she’s not sure this is what she wants to do.
“Thanks for coming,” I say. “It means a lot to my grandmother. I get the feeling you haven’t told her the new rules.”
“I love Mrs. Nye. She’s been so good to me and I never want to hurt her, so no, I haven’t mentioned it.”
“Well, this was her idea. We’re staying apart.” By force, I wanted to add. “I’m trying to do what’s right so you can get your license back.”
“Thank you, Starlee,” she says with a tight smile. “I know this is hard on everyone.”
“It sucks for us but it’s a lot harder on George and Ch—” A shadow moves down the path. Two shadows. My heart clenches.
Sierra turns and I see her shoulders sag in relief. “What are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Nye invited us and it turns out even our dad can’t say no to her.”
Sierra laughs and it may be the first genuine smile I’ve seen from her in weeks. She pulls them both into a tight hug and they both look at me over her shoulder, identical eyes burning into me.
“The boys are in the kitchen,” I say, fighting every urge I have to hug them myself. They do the same, George’s jaw ticking as he passes.
When we’re alone again, she says, “They look tired.”
“Yeah.”
“I really hope they’re okay.” She looks up at me with gray, sad eyes.
“Me too.”
I shut the door behind her and lean against the wooden surface as she follows the boys into the kitchen. I can’t have them all the time but Leelee gave me this—one night--and relief spreads over me that they’re all here at once, safe and secure.
9
George
Charlie and I made our own agreement after meeting with Claire, Starlee, and the guys. We’d figure out a way to make it work at home. Stop the sulking and bad attitude. If our dad fails, he fails, but they won’t be able to blame it on us.
After school, Charlie headed up to the resort and applied for the tech job in the office. It’s mostly scheduling and website maintenance—similar to what he did for Mrs. Nye at the lodge. The move made Dad happy, and when I asked if there were any openings for me, too, he brings home a list.
There’s something to cooperation, because when Mrs. Nye called and spoke to him about us coming up to Lee Vines for dinner, Dad agrees. Neither Charlie nor I believed it for a minute, but we’re seventeen, he said, and what he’d learned in his meetings was that you couldn’t control everyone all the time.
So yeah, we could go and he’d hit the basement of the Methodist church for his meeting. It was weird. Calm. It made my skin itch but so did Starlee in a whole different way, and if getting along meant I could see her—even just for one night, under strict supervision—I’d take it.
But it’s harder than I thought to just sit in the same room with her, thinking about her, smelling her shampoo and hearing her voice. Part of me feels like a pervert—like an out-of-control teenager with raging, ridiculous hormones, but then I remember, I am an out-of-control teenager with raging, ridiculous hormones. I remember something else. So is she.
The episode plays on the wide-screen TV—a fan favorite picked by Sierra--and we all take our seats, with none of the funny business that often goes down while watching Supernatural. No fighting over who sits next to Starlee or discreetly pressing our thighs against hers. She sits in a chair by herself, her body shifted to the side, like she’s willing herself apart. If there is any truth to the concept that men want what they can’t have, it’s playing out in this room.
Sitting still has never been my strong suit. Between that, the fact the show is a repeat, and distraction of the girl in the chair makes it all that much harder. Midway through, I gather the empty plates and stack them in a pile, excusing myself. Sierra gives me a sympathetic smile. She knows it’s hard for me to calm down sometimes.
“George Evans, don’t break any of my plates,” Mrs. Nye calls. It’s a valid statement. It’s happened before.
“I won’t! Promise!”
I carry the plates to the sink, setting them down gently. A fork falls off balance and slips, clattering on the floor.
“It’s okay!” I shout, wincing at the loud sound. I’m not surprised a few minutes later to hear the pad of footsteps on the hardwoods, although I certainly didn’t expect it to be Starlee.
“Everything okay?” she asks in an overloud voice.
“You volunteer to check on me?”
“I was sent in—by my grandmother.” I lean against the counter, resting my hands on the edge. “You seem extra antsy tonight.”
“I’m not used to this new situation.”
She moves over to the sink, turning on the water. I watch as she rinses off the plates one by one, stacking them on top of one another. Tired of being so close to her and not touching her, I lift her hair off her neck and kiss her warm skin.
“That’s against the rules, Mr. Evans,” she says quietly, the water drowning out her voice.
“It’s been a week. Too long. I need something to get through the day.”
She faces me, eyes both sad and fiery; we’re caught in a complicated spot. “So, your dad was really okay with you coming tonight?”
“He said so, but…”
She touches my arm and it burns through the cotton of my shirt. “But what?”
“We’re learning to trust him again. It’s too soon to tell.”
She looks up at me with those wide green eyes and her mouth is red and plump. I bend down and brush my lips against hers, easing them apart and slipping my tongue in to sweep against hers.
She tastes like sugar and chocolate. Home and stability. Her hand moves around my neck, cupping my face to pull me closer. It’s sweet. Dangerous, and I never want to stop.
“George!” Dexter calls from the other room.
“Cockblocker,” I mumble, making Starlee laugh. She turns back to the sink. I see the way her back moves, inhaling and exhaling. I took her breath away. “Yeah?”
“Bring me another one of those pastries.”
“Two,” Jake calls.
“Make it three.”
“I’ve been summoned,” I tell her, pushing her hair back over her shoulder.
“I think you have.”
I grab the plate of pastries and pass her once more, kissing her temple. I want her to know how I feel, that this separation is not by choice. My avoidance is not what I want. It’s important for her to know that, and from the way she watches me leave the room, I think she does.
10
Starlee
There’s a lull in business at the lodge prior to Christmas, which means Katie doesn’t need help at the desk in the afternoons. When Margaret asks me to lead the holiday service project for the Helping Hands Club, I agree. I need something to distract myself.
“As you all know, we’re doing a mitten and glove tree for the holiday. We’ll put clothespins on the tree and students can clip gloves and mittens to hang like ornaments.” Speaking to a group like this is different for me. I can’t push back the heat in my cheeks no matter how hard I try.
“
I love this idea,” Margaret says, encouragingly. I’d seen it back home in one of the shops near our house and suggested it to her. “People can also donate hats and scarves. We’ll put them under the tree like gifts.”
“The tree will need to go up on Friday. I’ll be in charge of that, but I’m going to need someone with a truck to help.”
Normally I’d depend on the boys to help me, but that obviously can’t happen. Even Charlie quit the club, although I’d overheard him tell Leelee he’d started working at the resort. I’m a little relieved that he’s not just sitting at home, going back down the rabbit hole.
Christina lost a little bit of her smug expression when it was announced I was organizing the project. It took everything I had not to tell Margaret what she had done to me and the boys during the snowstorm, but we’d agreed to keep that lowkey for now. A big display is only playing into her hands and risking the guys getting into more trouble.
Someone speaks out from the group. “I have a truck if you need help at the tree farm.”
I glance over at the boy I think is in my Chemistry class. He’s got dark brown hair and a shirt that says UCLA Baseball across the chest. His blue eyes skip from Margaret to me. “Sure. What’s your name?”
“Jasper.”
I scribble it on my list. “That’s great. We need signs to place around the school. Anyone interested in that?”
“What about Charlie?”
I look up from my paper. Christina’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow is raised in question. I swallow and say, “Charlie’s no longer in the club.”
She frowns and looks at her friends innocently. “Oh, that’s too bad. He was really helpful. I guess—"
“I’ll do it,” Claire interrupts. “I can make the signs.”
I smile and write down her name. “Thank you.”
Christina glares at her former friend, but I’m over her drama. “That’s it for today. We’ll need everyone’s help in drumming up interest for the school to participate.” I give Christina a small smirk. “Maybe you can work on that. I know you love spreading around information.”