Dawn to Dark

by Halston James

  My father sends the phone soaring through the room. It crashes against the wall with a loud, shattering noise and falls to the floor.

  “Daddy!” I shout, horrified. “That was Freya’s phone.”

  “Is this boy talking about you?” he growls. “Because I hope to God he’s talking about some other girl.”

  “Daddy—”

  “Stop! I just want a yes or no out of you. Is it you he’s talking about?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He holds his hand in the air, cutting me off. “What don’t you understand about yes or no?”

  “Nothing,” I mumble.

  “I expect you to listen to me when I set rules. Why can’t you ever just listen, Ari?”

  “All I do is listen.”

  “Stop!” he shouts, shutting me up. “I said, don’t have social media. I said, no photos. Do you not understand the dangers of all of this when you’re a cop’s daughter?”

  I glance at the floor. How can I forget? He has the Smethers family Gazette clipping on the fridge at home. “But I didn’t break the rules. I wasn’t on camera.”

  He breathes out heavily and runs his hands through his hair. “Tell Freya she’s fired.”

  “What?” I scream, jumping up from the bench. “She didn’t do anything.”

  “She’s paying for your mistakes, Ari.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?” I hold back the tears and stand up straight. “It’s not Freya’s fault. She was just trying to be my friend. She already needs a new phone she can’t afford.”

  His eyes soften. “Fine, but I’m working on things, Ari. The same kind of things that got the Smethers and your mother killed. I do not want that happening again, so I expect you to understand that I’m just trying to protect us.”

  “You’re protecting me too much, Daddy.”

  “That’s my job,” he says with finality.

  “You don’t understand. I just want to be normal and hang out with some friends or go on a date.”

  “I don’t want you talking to the Prince boy.” His tone is cautious, warning me not to rebut.

  But I do. “You—”

  “One more word, and I swear to God, Ari.”

  I scoff.

  And he walks toward the door and shouts, “Freya!”

  She comes running into the room and stops in front of me. “Yeah, Uncle T?”

  He exhales and glances at me.

  Apprehension skitters down my spine as I silently plead for him not to do this.

  “You’re fired.” He holds his hand in the air, stalling her response. “Get your things and get out of here, now! I don’t want to see you here when I get back, am I understood?”

  She nods as tears well in her big blue eyes and fall down her cheeks. She glances at me and swallows hard, begging me to intervene.

  Angry tears prick at the insides of my eyes and I mask the hurt with a higher pitch. “Daddy! She needs this job!”

  “And I need you to be safe. I don’t even understand why you are here. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want you girls hanging around here?” He glowers at both of us. “Maybe this way you’ll understand how serious I am.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mouth to Freya right before she turns her back on us and walks out. “Daddy, this is insane.”

  He ignores me and walks toward the door. “I have to go. Go home and wait.” He uses his hand to circulate around the room. “Lock the door and do not leave.”

  He’ll regret this. I open my mouth to speak, and he shakes his head. I rest my back against the wall and give him time to cool down. I’ll talk to him when he’s not fuming and his temper is under control.

  I step out of the bathroom and find Vanessa. “Hey,” I say as I glance toward Freya’s station. She hasn’t come back in since my father left.

  “I think Freya left, hun.” She sits on the small bench and opens her purse to retrieve a small makeup bag. She unzips it and removes a small thing of blush. “Are you okay?” she asks while dabbing her fingers in the powder.

  I shrug in response. My life’s been stagnant on okay.

  “Hmm,” she hums and presses her finger tips to her cheeks to spreads the color over them. “I bet Freya isn’t okay.” She walks over to the mirror and unscrews the matte lipstick. Before applying it, she glances back and asks, “What was it all about?”

  I lean against Freya’s locker and watch Vanessa apply the red lipstick. I bite on my lower lip before I say something to her. My head is spinning like a teacup carnival ride; puking my questions about her and my father probably isn’t a good idea. I’m already in a crazy amount of trouble.

  She glances at me in the reflection of the mirror. “I heard your dad shout at you. I was in the kitchen. I’m sorry.”

  “He has his reasons to yell at me.” What did my father mean by he’s working on the same things as Officer Smethers?

  “It’s just a date, doll face.” She screws the cap back on her lipstick. “I don’t really see what the problem is. Derrick Prince is always in here.”

  My mouth drops open. “You know?”

  She turns around and leans against the sink. “Yeah, he came in here asking about you the other day. I told him you don’t usually hang out here until the weekend.”

  “Oh,” I say and glance at the broken phone on the floor next to her.

  “I didn’t think that was a problem. I’m kind of glad Derrick didn’t wait and show up here.” She squats down and picks up the phone, grimacing at the shattered screen when she flips it over. “Were you watching his recent upload?” She extends the phone.

  I reach it and hold it in the air. “I was until my father broke Freya’s phone.”

  “That’s not all he did,” she says flippantly and catches herself. “I’m so sorry, hun.” She drags out the so as if it added value to the apology.

  “It’s not your fault,” I say as I wipe at the bottom of my eyes. I’m just grounded until I die, down a best friend, and destined to be an outcast. “Typical teenage crap, I guess.”

  “My parents were never that intense.” She steps toward the bench and puts her makeup case away. “Even when I stripped, my parents hated the idea, but they were supportive. We needed the money.” She points at her body. “I had the body. At least it wasn’t hookin’, and I wasn’t an addict like my cousins.”

  I cross my arms in front of me, slightly uncomfortable with the situation. She came from the same place Jetham came from. The same place my Dad was investigating and those people were killed, but she’s always been really cool, and my dad let her work here.

  “I know you have bad history with the place I grew up, and I’m not going to tell you lies about it. Some of the guys I grew up with, they weren’t good people.” She pats on the bench next to her.

  I hesitate but go over to her. “Did you know him?”

  She smiles softly. “I knew of him from my sister, but I stayed away from them. The guys who went to the Grotto were wrinkled and wealthy. It’s the type of place people from my neighborhood worked, not attended.”

  I nod and bunch my hair to the side. “Did your sister work there.”

  “No,” she says softly. She pulls her cell phone out of her purse and unlocks it for me. She pulls up Derrick’s channel and hands me the phone. “Here, you should finish watching it.”

  I shake my head. “If my dad knows, he’ll fire you.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she says and presses the play button. She rotates the phone and hands it to me. “Just like you can, hun. You don’t have to listen to what your father says just because he said so.”

  “He wouldn’t agree with you,” I say as I glance at the screen. Derrick’s leading the guys to The Lagoon.

  “The question is, do you agree with me?”

  “I don’t want to upset him. He’s been through so much with my mom, and I know he’s just scared.”

  “You remind me of my sister,” she says, placing the phone down on the bench. “You’re a good ki
d. He’s not going to hate you because you watch some guy on the Internet.”

  “Yeah, my dad can hold a grudge.”

  “Not as tightly as a woman,” she says with a wink.

  I chuckle and glance down at Derrick, who is holding my blue notebook. I pick up the phone, turning the volume higher.

  “I love the way you write,” he says to his mystery girl. “This place reminded me of where your main character came to think.” He flips through the pages and gently places it beside him. “I kind of want to be your chapter eight.”

  I gasp.

  “Meet me here after school today.”

  Griffin jumps in. “Give her a time, so she doesn’t show up out of nowhere.”

  “Five,” he throws out and then sweetly says, “Hope to see you then.”

  I hit the home button and stare at the two girls on Vanessa’s screen saver, mostly focusing on the numbers. “It’s five.”

  “What’s that?” she asks, opening her locker.

  “The school is a thirty-minute walk from here.”

  She cocks her head to the side and pulls out her apron. “Do you really want to go see him?”

  I nod, afraid to voice my decision.

  “Well, how about I drive you over there?”

  I stand to my feet quickly. “What about work? Without Freya, it’ll just be you and the new girl.”

  “Let me worry about that.” She places her apron inside and closes the locker again. “Let’s go get you to your Prince.”

  “Thanks,” I squeal and grab her purse. I miss one of the handles, and the contents topple over, revealing stacks of small plastic baggies wrapped in rubber bands.

  “I… I…” I stammer as I bend down to pick them up.

  “Hey,” she says softly, helping me gather everything back into her purse. She holds her keys in her hands and offers me a deal, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  I smile and nod. I’m not exactly sure what there is to tell. It doesn’t surprise me that she does drugs. I know that sounds mean, but with her history and with where she comes from, the statistics aren’t in her favor. My dad always said some drug addicts are just victims of circumstance.

  5

  Kiss the Girl

  Derrick Prince

  “She’s not coming, Prince,” Max says, shutting the camera off and placing it in his bag.

  “Maybe she didn’t see it,” Griffin offers.

  “Can you call Freya and ask her?” I don’t know why I don’t have her number.

  Griffin dials her phone and hands it to me. It goes straight to voicemail.

  Ugh! I dial again and get the same reaction. “Freya said her father’s really strict, right? Maybe she couldn’t get here.”

  Max shuts my theory down quick. “Freya said she’d drive her over. The school isn’t locked down yet, so there shouldn’t be a problem getting back here.”

  I throw my head back and listen to the rain. “I can always just wait for her at the diner on Saturday night.” I remove the notebook from under my head and wave it in the air. “I can give this back to her.”

  “You shouldn’t have that anyway,” her softly accented voice comes from close by.

  I jump up in time to see Max smile wide. “She’s here.” He points toward the pink cherry blossom. “Did you forget your umbrella, writer girl?”

  “It’s not raining that hard,” she says as she steps out from underneath the cherry blossom tree.

  Whoa. She’s a mess, but holy shit, is she hot.

  Max reaches for the camera, and I hold my hand over it, telling him to wait awhile.

  “I didn’t think you were coming.” I step out of the gazebo and head over to her with my umbrella. As I approach, she fixes her hair, trying to smooth out the frizzy parts, but it doesn’t help.

  “It looks good the way it is,” I say, stopping right in front of her. “I have a thing for messy, disheveled girls…” Who stare at me with huge round eyes. I pluck a pink cherry blossom from her hair.

  She exhales mid-pout and winces at her own nervousness. “Freya didn’t tell me what to dress for. She just shoved me into the room and jammed you in my face… Uh. I mean, her phone.” She shakes her head. “She stuck her phone, with your face, in my face.” She uses her hands to show me how it went down.

  I chuckle. “I prefer to have your face in front of my face without any screens between them.”

  The blush creeps up her cheeks. I can’t remember the last time a girl blushed because of something I said.

  She glances up at me through her lashes and takes the reins of the conversation. “So, you have my notebook?”

  Max clears his throat.

  She immediately hides behind her long hair.

  “You don’t like being filmed?” I ask.

  She turns her back on the camera. “My dad will freak.”

  I glare at Max until he lowers the camera. Griffin hands me an umbrella and leads Max back to the gazebo, giving us some privacy.

  “Want to take a walk, just the two of us?”

  She smiles and bites on her bottom lip. Her eyes flicker to the ground and back to the floor. “I might fall on my face.”

  “What?” My question comes out as weird swallowed chuckle.

  Her cheeks change color—like liquid crystals in mood rings—and serve as a confirmation: She’s not at all like the girls I’ve dated.

  She points to her flip flops. “They’re wet and slippery.”

  I choke on my laughter.

  “What?” she asks innocently.

  I’ve heard that on first dates before, but never in reference to flip flops. “Nothing…” I trail off. “I was just thinking that maybe you should hold onto me then… you know, so you don’t fall.”

  “Oh, okay.” She loops her arm through mine and we walk down the small path that leads around The Lagoon.

  The silence is a bit awkward, so I ask, “So, you going to tell me your name soon, or are you going to make me guess?”

  She bobs her head back and forth. “The guessing sounds fun.”

  “I’m not very good at it,” I warn her.

  She quickly flickers her eyes in my direction and says, “Everybody calls me Ari.”

  “Is that your whole name?”

  “Ariana Merchant.” She jumps over a puddle of mud.

  It hits me at that instant. “Oh, wait. Your mom owns the diner, right?” I knew she kind of looked familiar. Her mom had the same color hair and the same round eyes.

  “Owned,” she corrects. “She passed away three years ago. My dad owns it now.”

  “Shit.” I run my hand through my hair. “I remember that. The Smethers murder…. That’s why your dad’s so overprotective?”

  She shrugs. “He was always protective. I guess it comes with the job, but when she died, my father flipped out.”

  “Can you blame him?”

  “Not for being scared,” she says as she ducks under a large willow tree. “But I blame him for not believing I can keep myself safe. He told me he didn’t want me to hang out with you because you were addicted to social media.”

  I close the umbrella and tuck it under my arm. “That’s funny.”

  She leans against the willow tree. “Why’s it funny?”

  “Because that thing I didn’t know I needed?” I pause. “Is a break from it all.”

  “A break from being famous?” she chuckles. “Why would you want that? You seem so at ease in front of the camera.”

  “I’m not famous.”

  She holds two fingers in the air and smirks. “Little bit famous?”

  I shake my head, which turns into a shrug. “Maybe a little bit. There are over seven billion people in this world. We have two million subscribers. That means less than one percent of the world knows about me.”

  “That’s one percent more than the people who know about me,” she says distantly, as if it bothers her. She smiles, making her cheeks pop up and accenting the heart shape of her face. She has no makeup on, bu
t she looks beautiful. Like she isn’t afraid of letting me see who she is. She wears her imperfections as if they’re part of her, not that there are many on the surface.

  I slide my finger under her chin and tilt her face up toward me. “Yeah, and I don’t know how I feel about that.”

  “What do you mean?” Her eyes glue to mine, searching them for something.

  I smile back at her. “You are an amazing writer. You should share your stories with the world.” I lean and cup her cheek, dropping my eyes to her lips. “But I don’t want to share you.”

  She sighs softly as I lean in and brush my lips against hers gently. Before I can press them against hers, she giggles softly and shakes her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You make me nervous.”

  My chest swells as I lean in again, catching her surprise with my proximity. She shuts her eyes tight and smashes her lips together before releasing them. The action just made them plumper and irresistible.

  I step forward, so that our bodies are closer. I can feel her anxiousness flow through her. It’s infectious and making me nervous. The fact that her eyes are shut gives me a little more courage, and I lean in.

  Her eyes slowly open, and we breathe in together, stuck in a moment of hesitation until we give in to the longing coursing between us and touch again. Each time we part, she inches back. I follow until nothing but our breaths escape between us.

  Our eyes pop open, as if confirming each other’s presence. When they close the second time, our lips feel like magnets drawing us closer. An undeniable attraction flows around us, taking one inhaled moan and one exhaled plea, and turning them into a string of kisses that doesn’t last long enough.

  Whistling noises come from Max and Griffin. I block her from view, knowing them; they’ll have the camera on. I whisper, “We’ll edit this part out.”

  She nods, trusting me the way no one ever has.

  6

  Tips

  Ariana Merchant