Secret Life (RVHS Secrets)

by Quinlan, Bria

  “Hey,” Chris’s voice was closer this time. Following. There was no reason to go back if he was coming out.

  At the center of the bridge, I lowered myself to the edge, dropping my legs over the side. Below me, the moon clashed with the branches and debris that floated over its reflection, stealing the light from one side for long moments.

  “Rachel?”

  I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking, My God, this girl’s crazy, but I couldn’t deal with that right now. With the breeze making my eyes tear and the sweet scent of chilled water drifting up to me, all I cared about was the darkness to hide in and the quiet to listen to.

  Instead, he surprised me…showed me just how differently we thought. How neither of us was more than slightly focused on anything other than ourselves even as we considered the other.

  “You didn’t have to bring me out here.” He lowered himself next to me. “I knew I’d have to go home eventually. It’s…”

  I’m not sure where that sentence was going. Even my typical nosiness couldn’t get me to ask. I was afraid again, but this time I was afraid of what I’d learn about Chris. I had enough demons of my own.

  In the dim light, all I could see was the rough outline of his face. Everything—the details—faded. I liked the idea. Details had never been my friend.

  I shrugged, but then couldn’t let him feel guilty over something I’d needed too. “I just couldn’t seem to stop driving.”

  He nodded, as if the idea was something he’d thought about himself. As if we’d been in his car, we still would have ended up here in this abandoned sanctuary.

  “How’d you find this place?”

  I grinned at him, doubting he could see me at all with the moonlight behind me.

  “When the road ended, we went straight.”

  He looked at me for a long moment, the silence a pause overriding the river’s gush, and then laid back his head and laughed. A full, real laugh I’d never expected to hear from him.

  “God, Rachel. Who knows what could have been down here.”

  My family always worried about me. Amy was always careful about everything since she started dating Luke—careful not to leave me out or behind. Dr. Meadows was safe because she knew when not to push.

  This, this carelessness he showed toward me—like I wouldn’t break at the smallest thing —drew me like nothing any of them offered before.

  “I’m planning on sacrificing you to the moon later.” I leaned in as if I was sharing a secret. “Just so you know.”

  He laughed again and leaned back on his elbows, closing his eyes and soaking in the beams as if they fed him.

  I tore off a bit of the bridge, shredding and dropping it over the edge to watch the current pull it away.

  “I just couldn’t go home yet, you know?” His voice came from behind me, low as if he hadn’t been sure he was speaking aloud.

  I started to shake my head but remembered his eyes were closed.

  “Sometimes,” he continued before I could form a response. “I just can’t stand being there.”

  I moved to focus on him stretched out beside me, and thought about how very different we were. He couldn’t go home, and I could barely manage to leave mine. That lost bridge was the first time I’d felt safe outside my room.

  “Why?” It seemed weird to ask him that.

  Hell, it seemed weird to be here with him at all.

  He shrugged and then opened his eyes. “Stuff.”

  Stuff, the international word for none of your business.

  “’Kay.” I was…disappointed. I’d suddenly suspected there was more to him—more than even Amy insisted on—and I was about to get a glimpse of it.

  As if.

  My gaze drifted back to the moon on the water, perched there as if it existed above and below. For a small dull moment, I thought about pushing off the ledge and letting myself have the millisecond of freedom with the moon before letting the weight of it all pull me under.

  “It’s just...” He sat up and leaned against the railing. “Things there are a little messed up right now.”

  I studied him from lowered lashes. He stared out over the water, watching something. Almost ignoring me as if what I thought was secondary to everything going on in that head of his.

  “That’s why your mom needs your car?” Why was I pushing this?

  He rubbed his hands up and down the edge of his shorts as if trying to get something off them. Get them clean.

  “Yeah.”

  I waited, not knowing what to say. What could I? I didn’t even know what we were talking about. He seemed so stressed, but my mind shrugged it off. I figured he was just tired of listening to his parents argue about money or something.

  Those were the types of issues I wished I had.

  “My dad…he’s been…”

  It was like I could feel him vibrating a few feet away. Whatever his dad was, sucked. Plain and simple. You could tell.

  I was actually surprised he continued. I mean, guys aren’t known for their let’s-talk-about-stuff-we-don’t-have-to-ness.

  “The problem is, I have a lot of my dad in me.”

  I thought about my own dad—that guy who left my mom to raise three daughters and had his wages garnished instead of actually sending a check—I’m not sure I’d enjoy admitting I had some of him in me.

  I nodded though, because I did understand. I was just lucky enough that the guy I didn’t want to be like left, so dealing with him was a non-issue.

  He didn’t say anything else, just laid back again with his arms crossed under his head, looking at the stars.

  After a while, no idea how long, I figured my mom would be frantic. I patted my pocket and realized I hadn’t grabbed my phone on the way out.

  It was a new rule, but I got it. Rachel always has a phone for the rescue call.

  I pulled my feet up and stood over him, studying the cast down angel beside me in the moonlight. And then I kicked myself for thinking of Chris Kent as any type of angel, even a fallen one.

  He opened one eye and looked up at me.

  “We’ve gotta go.”

  The eye fell shut and for a second I thought he’d argue. He looked as peaceful as I felt. But he let me pull him to his feet. He looked down at me a moment. An odd, long moment. I felt trapped in some weird space that didn’t make sense. He wasn’t the Chris he’d been two days ago, but he wasn’t a date or a friend or even safe. Dropping my hand, he motioned for me to lead the way.

  We ducked under the sign and then he held the chain gate open. Easing through, I stopped to watch him angle himself under the lock after me.

  The drive was quiet, only the sound of the peeper frogs and the air rushing past the open windows.

  I took those turns back slower, anxious to have him out of my car, but holding onto the peace of the night. When we passed my house, my mom’s light was still on and a Mack truck of guilt snuck into my calm.

  A couple roads down I slowed, not sure where to go. At the next stop sign, I glanced both ways, hoping he’d fill in the blanks. When nothing came, I decided asking wasn’t embarrassing. It was probably good for him to know at least one girl in the RV wasn’t stalking him.

  “I know you live off Center Street, but not really sure where.”

  “Fuller.” There was that tension again. It was like the guy from the bridge was gone.

  On Fuller, he leaned forward as we drove, looking for something…waiting for something. As we neared the end, he sat back, relief and anger both radiating off him.

  There was one car in the drive. Chris’s old Acura.

  Before I even stopped, he was reaching in the backseat and tugging his pack out.

  “Thanks for the ride.” The door closed behind him but he stuck his head back in the open window. “See you tomorrow after lunch.”

  And then he was gone.

  I glanced at the clock. Eleven fifteen. I had at least fourteen Chris Kent-free hours.

  Chapter 10

  �
��Girls! I don’t care if you stopped a deadly meteor from crashing into the Pentagon during last night’s sleepover. That doesn’t let you out of chores when you get home in the morning.”

  There is nothing more jolting than chasing the surreal with the absolutely normal.

  “I mean it, girls.” My mother’s voice carried through my bedroom door. “If anyone wants to get fed, their chores had better be done. Starvation is a valid form of punishment today.”

  I gave a last look in the mirror before heading downstairs. Luckily, with Chris not coming over till this afternoon, I didn’t feel the pressure to be perfect…or even attempt a polish.

  In the kitchen, my sisters shouted at one another as if there was a brick wall between them.

  “I am not walking Molly. It’s your week.” Heather threw the leash across the counter at Cassie.

  “The week isn’t over. It’s Sunday.” Cassie actually picked up the lead to throw it back when Mom stormed into the kitchen.

  “Molly can find a new home if no one wants to walk her.”

  Before the yelling could start again, Mom snatched the lead out of Cassie’s hand. “She’s fairly adorable. If I sedate her, any potential owners can be fooled into taking her on the spot.”

  Molly, while loyal and friendly, was also energetic and lived to bark. Loudly. In the middle of the night. At really dangerous trespassers. Like squirrels.

  “I believe the two of you worked out a plan and made some promises when I agreed to this dog. Promises broken equal no dog.”

  Mom was in rare form today. I hated the day after I had an attack. She was always on edge, tired and worried. I knew her reaction was probably my fault.

  Cassie and Heather both glanced from Mom to me as they tried to gauge if the fight had any life left in it or if they’d better just figure it out quietly.

  “I’ll walk her today,” Heather said. “But we’re marking the calendar that your week goes from Monday to Sunday.”

  “But you weren’t even here yesterday. Or last night and—”

  “It is probably just as easy to drug you and have you adopted as it is Molly.” Mom handed the leash off and headed for the coffeemaker. None of us would dare get between her and the java’d water. “Rachel, what’s your issue for the day?”

  Another thing I love about my mom, she knows when to treat me like I’m normal too.

  “Chris is coming over this afternoon to study.”

  Her mug gave a solid thud as she set it down and leaned against the counter. “Again?”

  Even my sisters heard the are-you-sure-there’s-nothing-going-on tone in her voice. The argument about dog walking and calendars ended and they stilled like a two-year-old with a stolen chocolate bar who thinks he’s being invisible.

  “I’m tutoring him. Tutor equals studying together.” Which, after last night, I had no idea what that meant. “And at some point, he’s tutoring me. Although we’ll see if he can count higher than ten without taking his shoes off first.”

  “Chris who?” Leave it to Cassie to jump on in.

  Mom’s lips twitched. When your mom gets that a guy is so hot even junior high girls will know who he is, there’s definitely a problem.

  “Kent.”

  Shock and awe. Blessed silence even. And then, not so much.

  “OMG, Chris Kent is not coming here.”

  “He was here last night and I was at a stupid sleepover?”

  “Are you guys dating?”

  “Pishaw. He doesn’t date.”

  “He’s always got a girlfriend.”

  “He always has girls. There’s a difference.”

  This is where my mother finally realized she’d better step in. Or she panicked, one or the other.

  “What do you guys know about guys who have girls?” Her tone was less suspicious and more oh-my-God-I’m-going-to-have-to-discuss-sex-with-my-twelve-year-old.

  All she got back was a double shot of, “Nothing.”

  “All right, Cassie and Heather. Chores and then chitchat in twenty minutes in the living room.”

  “Oh, God, Mom. Please not The Talk.” Cassie’s eyes rolled back so far, I thought she’d force a swoon.

  I have to say it was really nice to see all that motherly worry focused on someone other than me. Perfect escape time.

  “I’m off to go finish my homework.” As if any parent has ever argued with that statement.

  There were still a lot of awkward defenses being thrown out about health class and MTV when I escaped upstairs. For once I didn’t envy my sisters being so close in age. It was nice to get out of the tandem sex talk. As if the non-tandem one hadn’t been bad enough.

  ~*~

  Mom was setting the dishes in front of us when the doorbell rang. I didn’t even need to get up to know who waited on the far side of the door. Glancing at the clock, I tried to harness my irritation since it read only quarter past twelve. How fast did he think we ate here?

  Shoving my stool away from the counter, I tried to read Mom, to guess if she knew who it was. Guess if she was annoyed. Her quirked eyebrow showed more amusement than vexedness. What was it about Chris that could sway any woman? If women ruled the world, we could use him as a weapon of knee-weakening destruction. I’d be in charge since, you know, I’m immune.

  I’d already had to give my sisters the This Is A Secret talk. Hopefully that stuck. Threats were used.

  “I’ll get it.”

  “Obviously,” Heather said half under her breath.

  The door was open, but there was Chris on the other side of the screen, standing with his back to the house surveying the neighborhood. For what, I couldn’t even begin to guess.

  I shoved at the screen door, pushing into him and feeling as aggravated as the squeak sounded.

  “Hey,” Chris hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder and moved to pass me.

  “After. Lunch.” I put a hand out to stop him. “Which word is the most confusing to you?”

  He looked at his watch and then at me, his brow lowered.

  “It’s barely past noon.” I still wasn’t letting him in the door. I’d had a good morning and his show-up-sneak-attack could throw off the groove. Do not mess with my schedule.

  “How long does it take you to eat?” He tried to push by me again, but my hand settled firmly in the middle of his chest.

  “We’re just sitting down.”

  His jaw went slack. Actually, all of him kind of went slack.

  “You and your family? You’re having lunch together?”

  I was on the verge of asking him why that was so weird when my mother came into the foyer. Smiling. Darn her.

  “Chris,” she raised an eyebrow at my attempt to stop the storming of our lunch citadel. “Have you eaten?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Kind of.”

  “Kind of?” I could hear the mother in my mom coming out. “What kind of answer is that? Wash your hands and join us in the kitchen. Rachel, set your friend a place at the counter.”

  Mom already headed down the hallway, but her comment had both Chris and I frozen in place, studying each other.

  “Friend?” He repeated.

  The word made my stomach slide to gooey. I didn’t have a lot of friends left. Amy had always been patient, not really noticing my eccentricities through her own worries. Even as my quirks grew out of control she’d been too busy being invisible and just glad I could see her. Ex-boyfriends were never friends. Other girls were hard to be around. They had it all together even as they complained about nothing for compliments or to not look snotty.

  Chris looked around the foyer, as if it was a strange new land and then down at me. His study narrowed, intensified, before it shifted away.

  “I like the idea,” he said, as he pondered the empty wall over my shoulder.

  “Okay.”

  Our eyes met. It was an odd moment, reminding me of the one on the bridge the night before.

  “Okay?”

  I nodded and pivoted toward the kitchen. Friends
, as odd as it was, seemed like a good idea.

  Friends sounded like a nice safe box with nice strong boundaries and rules that made sense. Friends didn’t use you or break your heart or dump you for some perky blonde sophomore.

  Friends was heartbreak free.

  ~*~

  Lunch had been…long.

  It wasn’t every day my sisters had the chance to eat with a hot, older guy who was also the captain of the soccer team and a local legend. By the time they stacked the plates in the dishwasher, I was ready to shove him out the door just to make the giggling stop.

  My mom gave a last look at us before shooing the All-A’Flutter Twins through the doorway before her. It was barely one o’clock as we spread our books out.

  “I’ll be right back. I have to get your stuff out of my room.”

  I heard him ask, “What stuff,” as I sprinted up the stairs.

  The night before I’d figured out how to tutor History, how to make everything make sense.

  And, like I said, Google is my friend.

  I’d stolen a piece of the girls’ foam board and tacked it up on my wall. I’d even gotten up early to finish it. It wasn’t done, but I was almost to the chapter our class was on. Finished would have been nice, but I hadn’t expected Chris to not understand the idea of lunch.

  Rushing back downstairs, I found him on the floor, our lab Molly’s head settled neatly on his lap. And why not, she was a female. She might as well throw herself at him too.

  I waited for him to get up, to put her aside so we could get to work, but he kept stroking her head, both of them content to sit in the sunshine streaming through the sliding glass door.

  “I always wanted a dog.”

  It was more than a simple statement. There were knotted meanings behind it I couldn’t begin to unwind. I really did not want to believe there were depths to Chris Kent. I wanted to believe he was shallow and not very bright. That he took advantage of the girls too stupid to stay out of his path. That there was a darn good reason Amy should be with Luke and well clear of the A&F-model-in-the-making sitting on my kitchen floor.