by Cora Brent
Twilight had settled, making everything look prettier than it was in the daylight. I took the long way around so we wouldn’t pass the ugly fences of the prison but we could see the harsh lights from the Emblem High football field as I detoured past downtown and toward an area I knew like the back of my hand.
Back in the copper mining days freight trains rumbled right past Emblem all the time. Like the mines themselves those old tracks were rusted and abandoned now but some spots where the remnants endured became popular hangouts for the local kids. There was one spot in particular, close to the butte, where a wide hollow existed below the tracks and the kids of Emblem High would go there to compete to see who could dangle from the rotting trestles the longest. And they would smoke and they would fuck and they would spray paint obscene things on whatever surfaces they could find. I used to be one of them so I knew exactly what we’d see at that spot on a Friday night. I had no interest in running into any of Cadence’s students at the moment so I drove three miles past that place, the place we always called The Bridge, and headed for a spot along the tracks that was far less likely to be populated. I parked the car a few dozen yards away in the cover of the desert brush.
“Is this the dance club?” Cadence asked, craning her neck and trying to see anything beyond the scrubby brush lit by the truck’s headlights.
I cut the engine. “It’s anything you want it to be.”
“It looks abandoned.”
“It is.” I reached behind and under her seat to pull out the small canvas bag that was stored there. I opened the bag on my lap and sorted through the contents.
She leaned over for a look. “Where’d you get all those?”
“They came with the truck.” I found what I was looking for and removed the cassette from its plastic case. I had to rewind for a bit to get to the beginning of the song I wanted then pushed the play button.
“I know this one,” Cadence said after about five seconds. “My Uncle Creed is a great singer and he loves the oldies. This is one of his favorites. What’s it called again?”
“The Weight.” I hopped out and went around to the passenger side, cracking the door open. I reached for her hand. “Come on.”
The moon was only half full but it was enough for me to see the big smile on her face as she slipped her hand into mine. I kept the door open so the music would drift out more clearly and led her to a bare spot about fifteen feet away. I was no dancer but this wasn’t the kind of music you got wild with. It was the kind of music you swayed to with a girl in your arms, music that generations before us had known, maybe the same music that had been played in this very spot just like this.
“Did you used to go to high school dances?” she asked me.
“Not one,” I admitted.
“Never?”
“Nope. Dances weren’t my thing and anyway I dropped out before I graduated, remember?”
She swung one knee up, leaning back in a ballroom dancing type pose, and I had to move fast to hold onto her so she wouldn’t tumble into the dust. “I went to all the dances,” she declared with her head tilted back and her hair trailing down. “You are dancing with a goddamn prom queen.”
I chuckled and stood her up. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
We kissed and some night creature thrashed in the brush before running off while the music continued to blanket the unseen desert. Cadence slipped her arms over my shoulders and I held onto her waist while debating whether I wanted to lay my cards on the table.
“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “I want to tell you something at the risk of sounding all corny and shit.”
She smiled up at me in the moonlight. “Go for it.”
I kissed her forehead. Then her lips. “I never expected this.”
“What?”
“You’re different from how I thought you were.”
She tightened her arms around me and rested her chin on my shoulder with a sweet sigh. “So are you, Mulligan. So are you.”
We stayed out there dancing beside the ruined train tracks.
We danced until the tape ran out and the music stopped playing.
Chapter Eleven
Cadence
I hummed along to the radio on the way to work, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel and grinning like a fruitcake. My entire body felt electrified these days and there was a very muscular, tattooed, wiseass reason why.
Only a few weeks ago I was looking at this guy across my sister’s dining table and thinking I’d never known anyone more irritatingly smug and sexy. But that was life, filled with surprising twists and turns. None was more surprising than the fact that every day I grew a little crazier about Tristan Mulligan. So if I looked like an idiot singing and grinning as I pulled into the high school parking lot then that was his fault.
I was waving at my yawing students and claiming a space in the crowded lot when my phone went off, startling me. My mother was not an early bird and a call from her at this hour was abnormal so I snatched my phone off the empty passenger seat with a sense of dread.
“Mom?”
“Hello sweetheart.” Her smile always carried through in her voice and conjured all the warm safety in the world. My mother’s voice was chocolate chip cookies and fluffy bath towels and crisp sheets. “You’ve been tough to get ahold of lately.”
The stab of guilt was real. Between work and grading English essays and spending every spare moment with Tristan I’d been preoccupied.
“Sorry, I’ve been busy. Is anything wrong?”
“Why would there be?”
“Because you like seven a.m. as much as I like mushrooms, which is not at all.”
A laugh bubbled out of her throat. “I pulled an all nighter finishing my latest book.”
“Is this the new series about the time traveling Viking warrior?”
“It is.”
“I want to read it.”
“I like to think it’s a little too steamy for the eyes of my baby girl.”
The chances were high I’d already experienced every carnal act that found its way into her story and then some but I hesitated to crush my mother’s fantasies of my imaginary innocence. “You’re probably right. I’ve never even been kissed.”
“That’s not what I hear.” Her tone changed, became teasing. There was something else there too, a hint of worry.
Realization hit me. The early call. The not so subtle secret I’d been keeping.
With a sigh I asked the question. “Did you talk to Grandpa?”
“Last night. He wasn’t tattling on you. I asked where you were and he said you were staying at your boyfriend’s house. Of course he assumed I already knew that you even had a boyfriend named Tristan. And thanks to my immense powers of deductive reasoning I concluded his last name was Mulligan. How long has this been going on?”
“Not long.” I swallowed. “I know it must come as a surprise.”
“Not really. That night he showed up at your sister’s house we all noticed the way he was looking at you.”
“How was he looking at me?”
“Like you were the dish he couldn’t wait to sample from the menu.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “Don’t be so corny, this isn’t one of your romance novels.”
“Of course it’s not. If this were one of my novels then Tristan would be a dimension hopping werewolf with a tragic backstory.”
I chewed my lip. “You don’t like him very much, do you?”
“Honey, I hardly know Tristan.”
“But Dad doesn’t like him.”
“Oh yes, I’m pretty sure Dad doesn’t like him at all and that feeling will be magnified when he discovers that Tristan has stolen the heart of his youngest daughter.”
“He hasn’t stolen anything. We’re just…together.”
“Cadence?” My mother sounded serious all of a sudden. “Are you being careful?”
I might have thrown up in my mouth a little bit. “Oh my god, Mom, do you think I don’t know how to operate
a condom properly?”
She made a strangled sound. “Gross. Revolting. Please never utter that word again when I’m in earshot. That’s not what I was asking at all. From what I’ve heard Tristan has a habit of courting trouble.”
My defenses rose though I knew the statement was accurate.
“Wasn’t Daddy exactly the same way once?”
“Very much so. But keep in mind that things don’t always turn out so well, with wedding bells and eternal happiness.”
“At the moment I have no plans to marry Tristan or anyone else.”
“Neither did I when I was your age. Then I ran, quite literally, into an infamous troublemaker from my hometown and everything changed.”
I sighed. “Are you going to tell him about me and Tristan?”
“Someone should. Do you want to tell him?”
The only thing more awkward than this current conversation would be enduring a similar one with my father. The concept made me cringe against the vinyl front seat. “Hard pass. You can break the news. Let me tell the girls though.”
“Your sisters will drown you with questions,” my mother warned.
She was right. I could practically hear the rumbling of the imminent eruption. My sisters had long teased me for being a fickle practitioner of romance. They’d go bananas when they heard I was with Tristan. Of all people, they would say. Why him?
“I can handle it,” I assured her.
“Of course you can. Well, I’m sure you’ve got young minds eagerly awaiting an education so I’ll let you go. Kiss kiss.” Her voice softened. “I love you sweet Cadence.”
“I love you too.”
By the time I ended the call the first warning bell was ringing but I had to punch out a text to Tristan.
The beans are spilled. Call your brother.
I’d left him sound asleep between the sheets but at this point he was supposed to be in work in half an hour so he was awake. He responded immediately.
Okay. Touch yourself for me today.
That boy. He was a puzzle, always spitting out a deluge of crude oversexed comments yet he somehow managed to charm the pants off me every time. And the next text that came from him explained why.
Can’t wait to see you tonight.
I clutched my phone to my heart like a schoolgirl. I didn’t do this, gush and squeal over a few nice words from some guy.
Except if the guy is Tristan.
I was already rushing through the door to avoid being late to my first class but before I entered the cage-free zoo that was freshman English I managed to get out one final message.
Already counting the hours.
“Good morning,” I declared, busting through the door at the instant the last class bell rang. “What a beautiful day at Emblem High. How was everyone’s weekend?”
I heard a grunt and saw a front row student picking his nose. Some of the kids kept their faces in their phones and didn’t even look up. A few were sleeping on their desks. And the remainder glared at me as if my early morning good cheer was somehow offensive.
“Today we’re going to return to the endearing chore of sentence diagramming. Now come on you guys, don’t pretend like you’re not thrilled. You can’t fool me. And let’s stick to the one person to one desk rule so Abby if you will excuse yourself from Victor’s lap there’s an empty chair right there in the middle with your name on it.”
I searched my tote bag for the pack of dry erase markers that I’d learned to bring home with me every day or else they had a way of disappearing. I turned to the cracks board, neatly printed the words, ‘Emblem High has the most fantastic students in the world.’ and then faced the class.
“Can I get a volunteer to take a crack at the first sentence this morning? A Positivity Pass is up for grabs.”
They stared at me. Or slept. Or rolled their eyes at one another.
Even though I was careful to keep a smile on my face I sighed to myself.
The morning went fairly smoothly until fourth period when one of Ernesto Rivera’s classmates began taunting him because of the humiliating loss suffered by the football team over the weekend. The game had been played an hour away in Mesa and it was the second loss in a many games. The lopsided score wracked up by a notoriously bad opposing team was causing the Emblem players a lot of grief this morning.
I moved quickly to get in front of Nesto before he sprung out of his chair and used the fists he was tightening while Ansel Tiel mocked him from across the room.
“Maybe if the pussified offensive line took some Midol before kickoff then the team wouldn’t lose fifty two to seven.”
“Fuck you, Tiel,” Nesto tossed back. “I don’t see you out there with the guts to bust your ass for any team.”
Ansel grinned and stood. “Why don’t you come over here and try to bust my ass and see what happens to you.”
“Boys,” I warned, holding up a hand as I stood halfway between them while their muscles coiled and they glared like two gladiators about to battle to the death. Everyone else in the class was either laughingly taking sides or watching with wide-eyed alarm.
I didn’t want to send either of them to the office. Fighting in school meant an instant five day suspension no matter who was at fault. Fortunately the bell rang before any blows were struck and I told Nesto to stay behind for a minute to ensure the fight wouldn’t continue out in the hallway.
“Why do I have to hang back?” Nesto grumbled. “He’s the one who started talking shit.”
“I know that but give it a few minutes to let the dust settle. Don’t let a few stupid insults get you in trouble.”
He glared out the window, unmoved by my words of wisdom. I had to find different ones.
“If you get suspended you won’t be able to play in Friday’s game,” I reminded him. “I plan on going and I’d like to see you play.”
A smile skated across his face but then faded. “It’s bullshit what Tiel said about the offense. It’s not their fault that Ben Dorset dropped out of school last week. He was the biggest tackle we had. And even though people keep saying Isaiah Creston was the reason our quarterback kept getting sacked, Zay’s shoulder was really messed up and Coach wouldn’t let him come out of the game. And then Landon Gentry got pretty banged up trying to cover for the two JV players who shouldn’t have even been out there.” He shrugged. “Just sucks all around.”
“Things happen. Try to tune out anyone trying to talk you down. Anyway, there’s always the next game.”
“Tell that to Coach Ward,” Nesto grumbled.
I glanced at the clock. “It’s your lunch hour, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want to take up any more of your free time so go ahead and get out of here. Remember what I said though. Tune them out.”
He nodded and shouldered his backpack before making his way to the door. “So you’re really going to the game on Friday, Ms. Gentry?”
“Sure I am. And guess who else can’t wait to watch you play? Tristan Mulligan will be there too.”
“Really?” His smile was much bigger now. “I didn’t think he ever went to the games.”
“He’s coming to this one.”
Nesto appraised me. “So you guys are friends or something? You and Tristan?”
“Or something,” I said and put an end to the conversation. “Now go get yourself some lunch.”
The second bell rang, warning that everyone ought to be where they were supposed to be by now. The hallway outside my classroom became quiet. This was my free period and usually I spent it at my desk, eating a hasty lunch, grading a few papers, perhaps exchanging some texting banter with Tristan. I did have a couple of sisterly phone calls to make but I decided to wait until after school to tackle that particular chore. I trusted my mother not to broadcast the gossip but Cami wouldn’t be able to stop herself from calling Cassie and I couldn’t ask Cassie to keep this from her husband even for a few hours. Tristan was very tight-lipped about his relationship with Curti
s but I got the feeling the situation between them was already a little rocky even without this news so I wanted to give Tristan a chance to sort things out with his brother first. My sisters would understand.
Well, maybe not. But they would forgive me.
All of a sudden I didn’t want to endure a lonely hour at my desk so I snatched up my insulated lunch bag, locked my purse in its drawer and headed for the teachers’ lounge, which was really just a converted classroom over by the gymnasium. I traveled the long way, skirting around the courtyard where a ton of kids were congregated for lunch now that the heat had become slightly less punishing. There was a world of drama packed into that space full of shouts and sprawled limbs, cozy couples and congealed cafeteria food. The memories of my own high school years closed in, memories of how lunch was always the pinnacle of the school day, a time to be seen and to hang out with friends, to covertly observe my latest crush or to chat with Jake. It wasn’t so long ago in terms of years yet my time in school now felt like a war that was fought decades ago on another continent.
I turned a corner and stopped cold. This corridor on the far side of the gymnasium was deserted except for Rod Ward and Isaiah Creston. Isaiah was in my senior honors class and there was nothing strange about finding them in the same place. After all, Isaiah was a football player and Rod was the coach. For all I knew Isaiah might also be in one of Rod’s classes. The puzzling thing was the cold, tight anger on Rod Ward’s face. He’d just finished saying something and his index finger was still extended to drive his point home. Isaiah’s head was bowed and his tall, solid frame slouched against the wall. My intrusion caught their attention and Rod was quick about replacing his furious expression with the mild good guy mask he usually wore. Isaiah was slower, lifting his head to meet my gaze for a few seconds and didn’t manage to look away before I deciphered something painful in his face.
Fear.
“Ms. Gentry, it’s nice to see you on this side of the campus,” Rod observed with his blindingly handsome smile as he leaned against the wall.