Jane Doe was on her way to being a knockout.
Huh.
I shook myself out of the stupor this revelation caused.
“I’m walking you home.” I touched Jane’s elbow and began to walk.
Thankfully, she fell into step beside me without argument—I didn’t want to spend half an hour convincing her she needed me to walk her home.
I slowed my long strides when I realized she was struggling to keep up.
A cool breeze caused goose bumps to sprinkle across my arms. I should have brought a hoodie with me. Mid-October in LA was still warm, but the evenings were cool. Not cold, just enough where jeans were better than shorts, hoodies were better than T-shirts. Still, Jane didn’t shiver in her summer dress, so if a fourteen-year-old Californian could hack the breeze, so could a guy who grew up on the East Coast.
Glancing down at the top of her dark head, I took in her downcast expression and once again cursed my little sister. I sighed. “Don’t listen to Lorna, okay. She just doesn’t like to not get her own way.”
Frankly, I didn’t know Jane had it in her to stand up to Lorna.
“I know.” Jane looked up at me with those pretty eyes. “But she’s been mean a lot lately, and there’s only so much a person can take.”
Now, I was a guy, and guys liked to think we were above petty shit, but I’d seen enough jealousy between my friends, even between the ones I’d grown up with in Boston, to know what could sour a friendship. Maybe Lorna wasn’t happy her shy, awkward little friend was growing into a cute, talented artist that boys would start noticing soon. If they hadn’t already.
“Good for you. Sticking up for yourself.” I felt awkward saying it. But I didn’t know what else to say. Jane and I had exchanged perhaps twenty words between us in the last year.
“Everyone thinks I’m a pushover. Even Lorna.” She looked up at me and then glanced away as soon as our eyes met. “I’m not.”
I realized a while ago that I made the kid nervous. She rarely met my eyes if we were in the same room.
There wasn’t a lot I could do about that.
We walked down the gentle slope of the quiet street on clean sidewalks, passing Spanish Revival homes with palm trees in nearly every garden. It was a world away from Dorchester.
“Are you writing anything new?” Jane suddenly blurted out.
I almost stumbled.
My eyes narrowed.
Lorna, I’m going to kill you.
“Um … not that … I mean, I didn’t know …” Jane squeezed her eyes closed and some of my anger dissipated at her cute floundering.
Aggravated, but not at her, I waved her off. “It’s fine.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
I shrugged, like I didn’t care when I goddamn did.
We continued in silence.
Until …
“I read that book. The Richard Matheson one. I Am Legend.”
This time when our eyes met, she held my gaze. Realizing she’d tracked down the book from the poster in my room, I smirked. Had little Jane Doe been paying attention to me? “Yeah? What did you think?”
“It was good. Exciting. Sad too.” She sighed, and I heard a tremble in it, betraying her nervousness. I almost felt bad for her, but there was a part of me that thought maybe I liked that she was this hyperaware of me. “I read Stir of Echoes after it. I enjoyed that one too.”
“I didn’t think you read books like that.”
“I’ll read anything that’s good.”
That made me smile. “Yeah,” I agreed.
When we fell into a longer silence, I considered that maybe Jane had used up all her courage for one night. Usually, I’d stay silent. But there was something about her presence, a quiet stillness that I liked. It made me curious about her.
“Why didn’t you call your foster parents to come get you? You know you shouldn’t be walking this far on your own at night.”
Jane bit her lip. “I’m sorry if I’ve put you out.”
“I didn’t say that. And it doesn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t like to bother them.”
Bother them? She was their foster kid. Her job was to bother them. “They’re paid to look after you, right?” I knew right away it was the wrong thing to say. Guilt pricked me, seeing her face fall. “That’s not what I—”
“It’s fine. I just … I don’t want to rock the boat. There’re only four more years until I’m eighteen, and I want to stay with them until then. I don’t want to move again.”
“How long have you been with them?”
“Almost four years.”
I frowned. “Who were you with before that?”
She shrugged. “A few families.”
“And the Greens are the nicest of them all?” My friend, Lip, back in Dorchester, was a foster kid. He’d spent most of his life with a good woman called Maggie. Her asshole husband was lazy, and Maggie was constantly preoccupied with the five other kids they fostered, so Lip got away with a lot of bad shit.
Jane hesitated, and I felt a strange lurch in my chest. “Yeah.”
“What’s the hesitation about?”
“They just … they’re fine. They’re not around much, but they make sure I have everything I need, and they don’t yell at me or … anything else.”
“Anything else? Has someone done ‘anything else’ to you?” Why was I suddenly so aggravated?
Jane looked up at me, and the small smile and knowing look in her eyes made me feel like a naive little kid. “Jamie, the system is kind of flawed. Too many kids in care, not enough social workers, and definitely not enough foster parents. I’ve had it both ways. Good and bad.”
For a moment, I forgot I was talking to a fourteen-year-old and not a grown-up. The world weariness in her eyes made me feel shitty. Growing up how I did meant growing up fast. But, I realized, growing up alone like Jane had made her grow up fast too. It didn’t seem fair. “I’m sorry.”
She was quiet a while, and then she took in a deep breath, as if preparing herself for something. She then blurted out, “You seem different. Less angry.”
Yeah, I think Jane Doe had been paying attention to me. I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You used to be kind of …”
“Kind of what?”
Jane’s lips twitched, and she flicked me an amused look before staring ahead. “Moody.”
I had a feeling that wasn’t the word she was looking for. And I was still a moody bastard. “Yeah, well, so would you be if your dad took off, leaving you with the kind of mom I had, and bad mom or not, she died anyway.” I frowned, wondering why I’d said that.
This time when she looked at me, Jane held my gaze in a way that unnerved me. There was a wisdom in her eyes that made me feel weirdly younger than she was. “Can I tell you something? Something I haven’t told even Lorna.”
I nodded, knowing whatever it was, it was important. I didn’t know why she wanted to tell me, and I didn’t know why I wanted to know whatever it was, but I did.
“I got adopted as a baby.”
What?
Seeing my confusion, she nodded, her expression so sad, it made my pulse speed up. “Marissa and Calvin Higgins adopted me when I was nine months old. My name was Margot Higgins.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They couldn’t have kids. The only family they had was Calvin’s mom. She didn’t like Marissa. She didn’t like me. She didn’t like anyone that Calvin loved more than her. I didn’t realize that then.” She gave me a sad smirk. “It’s all the things you piece together when you’re older, you know. All the memories that make sense when you’re not a kid anymore.”
“Jane … I don’t …” How could she be adopted and then end up back in foster care?
“They loved me,” she whispered mournfully. “They were Mom and Dad. I was seven when it happened. Car crash. I was at school. They car-shared to work. After they died, that’s when I found out they’d adopted me. That th
ey weren’t my real mom and dad.”
I felt my stomach sink for her.
“I used to dance.” She was lost in her thoughts now. “Ballet. But it’s expensive, and I moved from foster parent to foster parent. Paying for ballet lessons wasn’t even a remote possibility. For a while, it’s all I could draw. Ballerinas. Sometimes I still do. Anytime I see a dancer, it reminds me that my life could have been different.” She gave a sad laugh. “But it’s not. It is what it is, and we make the most of what we have. Still, I like to dream about that life. Marissa, my mom, she’d promised when I was a little older, she’d take me to see my first real performance. I’ve still never been to the ballet.”
“One day, you will.” It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. A promise. A conviction. “Why is your name Jane Doe?”
“Dad’s mom didn’t want me, even though she was my next of kin. Willa thinks my parents had to have left everything, including me, to my adoptive grandmother. That she didn’t abide by their wishes. I found out about the adoption when they died. My dad’s mom didn’t even want me to have my dad’s name. Social Services didn’t want a fight about it, and I was only seven. My name was legally reverted to Jane Doe and I went back into the system.”
Jesus Fucking Christ. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded, the crest of her cheeks red. “I told you so you’d know you’re not alone, Jamie. I think we walk through the halls at high school thinking no one can understand the crap we’ve been through, but almost everyone has a secret. A pain they don’t talk about.”
My throat closed with an emotion that hit me like I’d run into a wall. My heart hammered too hard in my chest, and I felt a kernel of shame in my chest. I’d been a dick to Skye for a year. Sometimes my anger and resentment still made me act out. And I dismissed girls. Impatient with them if they started pretending like I hadn’t laid it out at the beginning that I didn’t want to date. I got good grades, but I could be mouthy with teachers. And there were times I itched for a fight.
All that came from the same place.
And here was little Jane Doe, grieving for a life she should have had, and treating everyone with patience and kindness and respect.
I was, in that moment, being schooled by a freshman.
Seeing my struggle, Jane gave me a sweet smile. A dimple I’d never noticed before appeared in her left cheek. It was cute. I felt an unexpected twist in my gut.
Fuck.
I looked away, mentally reminding myself that not only was she a freshman, she was my little sister’s best friend.
“Let’s pick up the pace,” I said, my voice flat. I didn’t know what to say to her. “I’ve got shit to do.”
The words made her blush, and I cursed myself for being a prick.
She remained silent the rest of the way to the apartment complex.
More than a few times, I had to stop myself from asking her something else about herself. I was interested in what Jane had to say. I wanted to hear her opinion on books and music … and stuff.
It bugged me that she didn’t say goodbye as she hurried upstairs to the Greens’ apartment. It worried me that I might have hurt her feelings after she’d told me her secret. I cursed myself all the way back to the house, wishing I’d said something different.
Maybe even hugged her.
Shit. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. Jane was off-limits. She was just a kid. Those big, soulful eyes or the mature way she talked shouldn’t fool me—or the impression she’d left on me with her sad tale.
Maybe Lorna and Jane’s friendship was over, and I wouldn’t have to see her again, anyway.
That hope deflated when I stepped into the house and saw Lorna sitting on the couch, her phone pressed to her ear. “No, it was my fault. I’m so sorry, Jane. I was such a bitch. You don’t have to go to the party. I just don’t want you to be mad if I do.”
As tired as I was of her little drama tonight, I softened toward my sister when I heard her apology. Maybe Skye was right, and Jane was a good influence on Lorna. I ruffled Lorna’s hair as I passed her to get a drink from the kitchen, and she looked up at me with such hero worship in her eyes, I felt a stab of guilt.
I should probably try to be a better big brother.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Bethany.
Yeah, I’m free tomorrow. My parents are out and the pool house is empty. Xxxx
My Sunday and Monday were looking up. Despite being cock-blocked by having to babysit Lorna, the turn of events appeased me.
“What do you want to order for takeout?” I asked my little sister as she got off the phone.
Her eyes lit up. “I get to choose?”
“You do.”
She bounced off the sofa. “Is this to make up for choosing Jane over me tonight?”
All good feeling left me.
See, that was the crap that made me mad at her. “I didn’t choose Jane. I don’t choose sides in your petty little friendship dramas. She’s fourteen, and I wasn’t going to let her walk home alone. End of story.”
“But you left me alone in the house.” Lorna crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me.
I looked at her and saw my mother. When I was a kid, Mom had me in knots with that crap—making me feel like no matter what I did, I didn’t love her enough—until I got a little older and knew better. It was exhausting. “Fine,” I snapped, pressing speed dial on my cell. “We’re getting pizza.”
“Jamie!”
I ignored her whining and ordered what the fuck I wanted to order, my mood officially obliterated.
But that night as I laid in bed, I heard Jane’s voice in my head.
I think we walk through the halls at high school thinking no one can understand the crap we’ve been through … but almost everyone has a secret. A pain they don’t talk about.
It was a simple but loaded moment. Wise words that would stay with me. They’d make me look beyond myself. Those words would make me a better writer … but more, they would make me a better person.
As I laid there in the silence, I let her words truly sink in. I stopped being so fucking angry at the world that night because I realized there were people out there who’d been through worse shit than me.
I stopped feeling so goddamn alone.
Because of her.
Two years later
JANE
Sixteen years old
* * *
As hurt flared in terrible heat in my chest, I realized I wasn’t mad that Christopher Cruz had made out with Lorna over me.
It hurt me that Lorna deliberately went after Chris because she knew I had a crush on him.
The rules she’d made up when we were thirteen had been broken so many times, I’d lost count.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew our friendship was partly beautiful, partly toxic. Fifty percent toxic was enough that I should’ve wiped my hands clean of her. Truthfully, I didn’t want to sever our friendship because there were moments when Lorna was sweet and supportive and fiercely protective of me. And I stuck around because I loved Skye like a big sister, and my feelings for her brother Jamie had grown to epic levels. Their three-bedroom house in Glendale had become like a second home to me. If I broke off my friendship with Lorna, I’d lose her brother and sister too.
Not that Jamie and I had much of a relationship.
I loved him from afar.
But Skye … I just loved her.
I was the one nine months ago who forced Jamie to confront Skye when I noticed she was drinking too much. She seemed so sad. Jamie talked to her, and she admitted she was partying too hard. Part of the lifestyle. After their talk, she stopped the parties and drinking. Instead, she worked all the time.
Still, having just a little of Skye’s sunshine in my life was better than nothing at all.
And I lived for my weekly glimpses of Jamie and our casual interactions.
He was eighteen now, more beautiful than ever, and to my relief, he hadn’t left for some far-off college. Jamie
won a track-and-field scholarship to the University of Southern California and was in his freshman year there. To Lorna’s dismay, he was majoring in English, which was a travesty to her because, as she said, “He will be an impoverished writer for the rest of his life.”
To my delight, Jamie was staying at home to save money, which meant I still got to see him.
I just dreaded the day he met and fell in love with a smart, sexy college girl.
Jamie would never see me as anything but his little sister’s annoyingly shy best friend. Sometimes I still felt pangs of mortification when I remembered I’d told him I’d been adopted. Not even Lorna knew that. And Jamie had reacted with impatience after I’d offered my secret. The painful moment still made me question my feelings for him. As did his moods. Sometimes he was funny and easy to talk to; other times, he could be kind of a dick.
In fact, it was only about a month ago that Lorna had left me hanging out by their pool to take a call with some college guy she’d met at the mall. I was drying off on a lounger, enjoying the break from school when a shadow fell over me.
Opening my eyes, I found Jamie glaring down at me.
“What are you wearing?”
Confused, I glanced down at the string bikini. “Uh …”
“Nothing. The answer is nothing. Get back in the house and put something on.”
At his high-handedness, my annoyance surged. Frowning, I stood, and he stepped back quickly, as if afraid I was about to bite him. “I’m wearing a bikini,” I replied. As angry as I ever got, I didn’t like shouting. I didn’t see the point in people screaming in each other’s faces. Lorna did enough yelling for the both of us. “I borrowed it from your sister.”
His eyes flickered downward to my breasts and then quickly away. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he refused to look at me. “Yeah, well, she’s smaller. That bikini doesn’t fit you, and it’s obscene. Go change.”
Was he calling me fat?
My cheeks burned, but I stood my ground. “You’re being ridiculous.”
Jamie’s head whipped around. That brooding gaze slightly intimidated me, but I kept my chin up. “I’m what?” His tone was edgy. I knew it well. It was his soft, dangerous tone before he exploded.
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