Sidetracked: Part 1

by S. K. Kelley

  He groans. “Honestly, I, uh— I wasn’t paying much attention to what he said. He likes to spout a lot of shit when he’s pissed, and he has it out for me anyway, so...”

  Our eyes meet. He frowns, clearly struggling to maintain eye contact. Brows furrowed. Jaw set. A bead of nervous sweat glistens on his temple.

  Is he...lying? Why?

  “What did Ice say?” I ask again, growing frustrated.

  “He was probably just trying to get a rise out of me—like I said—but...” After a brief pause to gauge my expression, he looks away. “Well, he first made a point to clear up the deal with your necklace. So, ah... Sorry about that.”

  I look away too.

  “Anyway, I asked why he was with you, since you’re human and all, you know? And he said—”

  He hesitates once more, causing a beat of tense quiet while I stare at a cobweb on the ceiling across the room. Is it that bad? Just spit it out.

  “He basically said he was screwing with you for fun,” he mumbles. “Called you stupid. Maybe some other stuff— I dunno.”

  Wait, that can’t be right.

  “I asked if he cared about you at all because, um—”

  Because he kissed me?

  Our eyes meet for an instant before his dart away. His ears turn red, and he flashes an uncomfortable smile as he wrings his hands.

  “I was freaking out, scared he might kill me right there, and he’d already slammed my head into the wall a couple times, so...” He scratches his cheek, still crosshatched by scabs. “But he said he’s your sponsor, or something, so he can do whatever he wants. Ugh. Yeah, I really don’t know. It wasn’t great, but—”

  “He said all that?” I ask, my voice taut.

  “You think you guys are close, and I probably mean less than nothing to you.” With a nervous laugh, he shrugs, leaning further away. “I can’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but he made it pretty damn clear he doesn’t care what happens to you—as long as it doesn’t involve me, anyway.”

  “But—” As I stare at James’ battered profile, my mind reels. “Even if he said that—”

  He meets my gaze and shakes his head, mirroring my concern in a way that makes me falter. “Ice is only with you because he’s bored. He’ll toss you aside like trash when you’re not fun anymore. You asked me to tell you what he said, and that’s what he said. I’m only trying to help.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me.” His eyes flick to his lap as he deflates. “That’s the kind of guy he is. Didn’t you ever wonder why someone like Ice would want to hang out with someone like you?”

  Someone like me?

  I stand from the couch. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He watches in alarm.

  I sound offended—and I am a little offended—but he’s right. I have wondered, and I’ve never gotten a real answer. When I asked, he...called me interesting.

  Night said the same thing. Perhaps he was bored.

  But why take it so far? Why bind himself to me as my sponsor if he was just bored?

  None of this makes any sense.

  James frowns and tips his head, his brows furrowed. “I mean, you have thought about it, right?”

  My chest tightens, and my stomach twists itself into knots. The insecurity I’ve been suppressing for weeks... The aside glances Night made whenever we talked about Ice... The conversations I wished I could have with Rose...

  But I shake my head. “I— I don’t know.”

  If what James says is true...

  If even part of it is true, was Ice ever honest with me?

  Well... Maybe he was.

  He never lied, did he? By omission, maybe, but not outright. He admitted to stalking me when I recognized his feline form. He never claimed to care about me. He never said we were friends. He said he likes me, but...

  Does he seriously only want me around because he finds me interesting? Because spending time with me somehow alleviates his boredom? Does he seriously not care beyond that?

  Maybe I should have gone home after he rejected me.

  God...

  My fists relax, my eyes lose focus, and I let out a breath.

  “Am I stupid?”

  “No—” James jumps up from the couch and reaches out to touch my arm, but he drops his hand at the last second. “Ice knows what he’s doing, and he only lets people see what he wants them to see. Literally anyone would fall for it.”

  “How do you know what he’s like?” I ask.

  He prickles. “Guys like Ice don’t change.”

  They have history, yes, but I’m now certain that James watched Ice kiss me through the window. If Ice said those things to him right after—

  My hand comes away dry when I wipe my eyes. “I know Ice doesn’t like me the same way. He admitted it, but...”

  “Are you gonna go back there?”

  “I don’t know what to do.” My feet start to ache, so I sit again. “Ice has never been...mean to me, you know? And I have done some stupid, horribly embarrassing things since we met, but he’s always been so nice.”

  “Yeah, he’s good at that,” he agrees dryly.

  The vague comments are annoying, but I’m more curious than ever. What is their history, exactly? I could ask—he might even tell me—but am I ready to hear that on top of everything else?

  Still standing, he shifts his weight from leg to leg, holding one arm and watching my face. Uneasy. Apprehensive.

  Ah, right.

  He did confess to potentially being in love with me.

  I clear my throat. “What you said before...about me... Are you serious? I mean—”

  “Oh, that, um...” He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck as his face flushes. “I’m not... Uh...”

  It threw me off when he first said it, but I chose not to take it seriously. I figured it was some ploy to distract me and change the subject. Even if I was right, it doesn’t necessarily mean what he said isn’t true. It simply means it surprised me enough to work.

  “Hey, it’s, um—Jayde, right?”

  I nod.

  “You mind if we go somewhere else for a bit?” He glances toward the front of the building. “I can’t be here right now.”

  “I guess that’s fine,” I agree despite my confusion.

  As I leave the wicker couch, James studies me as though he didn’t really look at me before, and he frowns.

  “You want a dry coat or something?” he asks.

  “I’m fine,” I mutter. “You want your license back?”

  He hesitates. A darkness flashes through his eyes as he stares at the card in my outstretched hand, but he eventually nods, takes it, and slips it into his pocket.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says.

  Right...

  I grab my things and follow him outside.

  The rain is still coming down hard.

  He half-jogs for his car, which is parked a good thirty feet from the doors, but I dawdle on the covered porch. I wring the excess water out of my light jacket, but it’s still too damp to wear. After draping it over my arm, I pop the umbrella open and step out into the rain.

  The car is idling with James inside as I approach. While I close my umbrella, he leans across the seat to open the door for me. Then he makes a soft noise. I watch wordlessly as he swipes an open pack of cigarettes off the dashboard, stuffs it between the driver’s seat and center console, and stares out the windshield with both hands firmly planted on the wheel.

  His face is red again.

  Alright...

  I set a hand on the edge of the car door, but I hesitate. He looks up at me, and, for a moment, I stand in the rain and stare into his amber eyes—one still bruised and tinged red by blood.

  He tips his head.

  James is a mess, injured and nervous and sleep-deprived, but he seems more comfortable now that we’re outside. There’s less darkness. Less...whatever that empty energy is.

  This place bothers him? What about it?<
br />
  I glance back at the building, with its peeling paint and broken windows. It does give off a creepy vibe, so I wonder...

  Wait. This guy basically kidnapped me a couple weeks ago.

  Why am I here?

  Why should I listen to anything he says?

  Why do I want to hear him out?

  Why do I want to trust him?

  “You coming?” he asks, blinking.

  I nod and, with a mumbled apology, brush a few crumpled sheets of lined paper from the passenger seat onto the floor before I step into the car. I close the door and buckle my seatbelt. Water drips from my bangs and lands in my lap.

  I don’t get it.

  Why do I care about James at all?

  fifty

  WE STOP AT THE FIRST fast food restaurant we pass in town.

  James opts for the drive-thru over eating inside, but I can’t blame him for not wanting to hang around in public looking the way he does. Then he parks the car in the corner of the parking lot.

  “So, why’d you walk all the way out there yourself, anyway?” he asks, fishing something out of the paper bag.

  He hands me a small carton of curly fries I never asked for, but I accept it and thank him all the same. Arby’s fries are very good. After eating one, I regret not ordering anything.

  “I needed to talk to you,” I remind him. “Didn’t I say that?”

  He pauses, probably remembering I had.

  “Okay, fine. But how’d you know where to find me?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t. I guessed.”

  “You walked out to that run-down manor house in the middle of nowhere, through the pouring rain, without knowing if I’d even be there?” he asks, his expression rather blank.

  “I took the bus halfway. But, yeah, I guess I did.”

  “How’d you even remember where it was?”

  “I wasn’t that out of it on the Fourth of July,” I mutter. “And I did have to walk back to Ice’s house with a sprained ankle.”

  He averts his gaze and takes a bite of his sandwich.

  Oops.

  I listen to the rain pattering on the roof of the car and watch a line of vehicles stopped at the red light while I slowly eat fries. It’s lunch rush hour. Traffic is slow.

  As I shift my weight, a crumpled paper bag crunches beneath my foot. I glance down, unimpressed by the assortment of paper trash and empty soda cans on the floor. The air is stale too, tainted by the faint scent of smoke despite the dusty, yellow pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror. But the intricately carved wooden bookmark ornament that accompanies it is neat, I guess.

  Mm... There’s something incredibly sad about all this.

  “Anyway, what were you saying before we left?” he asks.

  I cough, but I remind him.

  “Oh. Right. That. Ah—” He scratches the back of his neck as a warm flush and uneasy smile spread across his face. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? I’m not in love with you—I mean, I don’t know anything about you, and you’re human anyway, so...”

  Ouch.

  My humanity is why he can’t possibly be in love with me? Well, there’s my confirmation that relationships between humans and immortals are taboo.

  Annoying, but I understand.

  I was a mess over Ice as soon as we met. I didn’t know him—who he was; what he was. I just...saw him, and that was it. Then I heard his voice, and he smiled at me, and I—

  Isn’t that basically what James said about me?

  I sigh. “It happens. Feelings are stupid.”

  “You think so?” His eyes brighten for an instant, but he quickly looks away. “It’s sucks, though. Before Ice told me it was a waste of time, I was dead convinced your necklace could help me. But, by then, it was too late. I feel like I caused all this trouble for nothing, you know?”

  “You’re defective, right? Ice mentioned it.”

  I’m kind enough to not mention any of the other things Ice said about him, but he still grimaces. Was the question too personal? Should I have said that Night told me instead?

  Tearing my eyes away, I stuff more fries into my mouth to keep from saying anything horribly insensitive.

  He sighs. “That’s right. I’m defective.”

  Is that why the storm doesn’t bother him?

  James obviously has his own issues, but he’s more energetic than the Monroes have been. He was awake before noon, walked in the rain without hesitation, and hasn’t complained about the weather once. Not to mention how he ventured out during an active thunderstorm for an indeterminate period of time in the dead of night less than twelve hours ago.

  Did he sleep at all?

  “Can I ask about that?” He doesn’t answer or look over, but I accept his silence as an invitation. “What does it really mean to be defective?”

  His fleeting glance is skeptical at best. “There’s no need to spare my feelings. I’m sure Ice told you all about it—he loves to rag on me—but...”

  After trailing off, he meets my gaze in surprise, as though he legitimately thought I asked only to spite him. But I force an apologetic smile, and the guarded edge to his jaw softens.

  “You really want to know?” he asks.

  “I am curious—if it’s alright.”

  “Oh. Well.” He looks away again. “I have no idea what Ice told you, but it’s not just him. There’s this whole stigma that comes with being defective. I can’t morph, you know, and I don’t have any cool powers, so I’m weird and different. My night vision only works when it wants to, which is literally never, small injuries like this take twice as long to heal, and I can’t do anything right in the first place, so—”

  Wow...

  Staring at his half-eaten sandwich like it’s some unachievable goal, his voice carries a wistful sadness. “I’m a lousy immortal. To the others, I’m...less than human.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being human.”

  Recognition replaces his mellow confusion, and he laughs. “Well, that’s easy for you to say. You are human.”

  Seeing a real smile is a strange relief, even if it was made after a self-deprecating comment. But I can’t be bothered to do anything but sit and wait.

  “So, anyway...” His smile fades, but his expression remains less upsetting than before. “When I bumped into you at the mall—which was a total coincidence, I swear—and you mentioned Night, that’s when I noticed the necklace. You being in with immortals and all made me wonder. I knew a human guy with a special immortal necklace in middle school, but I don’t know shit about that sort of thing, honestly, and it was more of an afterthought.”

  He pauses to sigh.

  “You know, I kind of forgot about it until Ice popped out of nowhere a couple hours later to threaten me.”

  “What?” I choke on a curly fry. “He threatened you?”

  He grimaces, averting his gaze. “Okay, I mean— No, yeah, he basically told me not to talk to you or else. You’re here now, so I fucked that one up real good.”

  Wow, um... This is a lot.

  “Anyway,” he says with a cough, “I saw pictures of you with a couple of Night’s friends and heard that your necklace is one of those special ones, and I...resented you. Thinking dumb shit like, ‘Why does some human girl get to have this thing when I was born an immortal and can’t morph?’ I don’t know why or how I came to the conclusion that it might work for me, but I did, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

  That’s what started it? A photo?

  Maybe Ice had a point.

  I stuff my empty french fry container into a paper sack on the floor and dig the River Sapphire out of my damp jacket pocket.

  James lets out a dry, tired chuckle. “Of course, I’ll never be so lucky. I can’t believe I was surprised to hear it doesn’t even work for you.”

  I don’t speak. I just stare at the polished, blue gemstone.

  “I’ll never fit in with immortals or humans, you know?” he says, his voice low. “All I do—all I�
��ve ever done—is screw things up. No one likes me, and, honestly, why should they? Just look at me. I’m a fucking mess. A disaster-prone loser. Besides, I bet you hate me for what I did to you. I’d hate me for it if I were you. Hell, I do hate me.”

  I glance up. James is done eating and has since leaned forward with his arms folded on top of the steering wheel. He stares through the windshield and continues talking, his voice soft and sad, but my mind wanders.

  Night wanted to know if Ice asked me to keep any secrets. Besides the secret of immortals, he never did, but why did she feel the need to ask? What secrets did she think he wanted me to keep?

  What secrets is she keeping?

  What is the shadow that falls over her face before she changes the subject? Why doesn’t she want to talk about their history with James?

  She knows Ice better than anyone, but he doesn’t tell her everything. She loves him, but her trust in him is tenuous—to the point he’s aware of her suspicion. Yet she encouraged me when it came to dating him. She told me things she knew he wouldn’t want me to know, but there were other details she wasn’t willing to discuss.

  How does James tie into it all?

  If Ice were as manipulative as James claims, he could have easily used my anxiety after the Fourth of July to his advantage by exaggerating the danger or twisting facts to keep me closer.

  Well... He did suggest that hanging out with other immortals was dangerous, but he didn’t fight me on it, and he was quick to agree we should pretend that everything involving James never happened. He hasn’t held it over my head, but Night also thinks he only kissed me because he thought it would keep me from leaving. Because he realized how upset I was, and he was scared to lose me.

  That’s manipulative, isn’t it? Isn’t asking me to act like bad things never happened manipulative too? Even if it was my idea at first?

  Ugh...

  James thinks Ice is only using me to alleviate boredom. Night says he can be hard to read but cares for me in his own way. Ice said he likes me even if the feeling is not romantic.

  They can’t all be telling the truth, can they?

  Fine.

  I’m willing to accept that Ice has used my emotions against me several times. I can’t argue otherwise—not after the kiss—but why would he go this far if our entire relationship were nothing more than a game to him?