by Anna Bloom
“Hey, Lyra?” The ball bounced once more and then feet pounded along the sidewalk after me. I gripped my backpack a little tighter and gauged the distance between the sidewalk and the house. I could make it if I broke into a run, but that would be like waving a flag to my distress and Luca would be asking questions quicker than I could pull my books out of my bag.
I caught my breath as fingers grasped my bare elbows. “Lyra?”
Blue bent slightly, his broad shoulders casting me into shadow. “What’s up?”
His T-shirt clung to his muscles in a way I’d dreamed about all too often. I kept my face down in case he could read it in my expression.
“Nothing.” Inwardly I groaned. Way to sound like a sulky teenager. Good one, Lyra.
“Well nothing has you looking kinda sad, kid.” I watched as his hand rose between us, hesitated and then caught my chin gently with two fingers, lifting it so I’d meet his gaze.
His skin flushed a gentle red from where I guessed he’d been playing ball against the house. A bead of sweat glistened above his eyebrow and he lifted his forearm to rub it away.
“I’m fine. Can I go home now?”
He cocked his head and for a split-second I’m sure his gaze lingered over my mouth. “Whose pretty face do I need to ruin?” He made a show of rolling up his nonexistent sleeves but all he did was draw my attention to his tanned and strong arms.
Why was I noticing stuff like this? It was like a switch had been pulled at the end of a long dangling string, and now I couldn’t unsee the boy next door.
Accept he wasn’t a boy, not anymore.
At nineteen, he only vaguely resembled the person who used to ride up and down the road with Luca on their BMX’s, terrorizing the local cats.
“Walk with me?” He held my elbow and towed me back around from the direction I’d come.
“I’ve got homework and violin practice.” I tried to yank away, but his grip held firm.
He nodded, gaze on the ground. “I know.”
I snorted a laugh. “You must hate practice time.” I’m pretty sure the whole neighborhood did. It had been fifteen months since a bonfire in Blue’s back yard had removed the tinkle of his piano scales from the soundscape of our street. I missed it. I cast him a quick glance from under my lashes—did he miss it too? He’d never said.
“You know I don’t.” His gaze flicked over me astutely, and a slither of foolish expectation rushed over my skin and I shivered. “How was your day?” He changed the subject before I could pounce.
“Terrible.”
“Well you were at Florida Woods High; I’d expect nothing else.” His grin made my heart patter. I nearly lost my footing as he pushed a hand through his dark messy hair. The sun had streaked the lengths bronze over the summer months, turning him into a golden god across the gangway between our houses.
“Raven Smoake is having a party tonight.” Ugh. The words just forced themselves from my mouth, leaving me an unwilling participant in our conversation.
“Uh huh?” He waited, casting his light-green gaze in an innocent sweep across my face.
“I’m not invited.” Fuck, I had some form of Tourette’s.
“And you want to go to Raven Smoake’s party, huh?”
“No, what I want is for people not to see me as the band geek.”
His lips curved into a dimple on his left cheek. The dimple should be banned across multiple states. It made my legs feel heavy, like I waded through water.
“Would it make you feel better if I told you she had the shittiest name in town?” His gaze twinkled and he somehow managed to smudge out the crushing disappointment I’d felt hearing everyone talk about the party over lunch in the cafeteria.
“Maybe, although don’t let Luca hear you talking that language near me.”
Blue chuckled and I held in a barely contained shiver. “He’s always going to be protective of you.”
“Well maybe he could do it from someplace else. He’s ruining school for me, being the cool one everyone still talks about.”
“You don’t mean that. I wish I had a sister like you.”
Something rippled between us and he scrubbed his hand down his cheek.
“I’m pretty sure Luca doesn’t feel that way,” I said, my gaze on his face.
“Maybe.” His cheeks tinged a slight pink.
We were nearly back down on the main road. Kids milled around. I guessed they didn’t have to get back to practice their violin for two hours. A couple of girls from my history class saw me from across the street as I stood next to Blue, and there was no ignoring the elbow shove they shot each other. “Where are we going anyway? Or are you just determined to cramp my style even more than I manage it all by myself?”
I pulled at my ponytail as it stuck itself to my neck in the crippling heat.
“Here.” He motioned to Clarice’s Diner and I hesitated. Inside, fifties style booths were filled with only the coolest of Florida Woods High. “I think you need a sundae with extra sun.”
“Blue, I can’t go in there.” Jesus, it would be like committing social suicide. My solid and safe mantra of ‘head down and exist’ would be obliterated if I even took one step over the threshold.
I realized my mistake too late.
I’d called him Blue. To his face.
I needed to hole up in the center of the planet and pretend I’d never existed.
For a moment he stood motionless, then he pulled the door and waved me in front. “After you, Ma’am.” He made a show of bowing low, and I knew it wasn’t for my benefit, but rather the people sat inside on the other side of the glass window.
“You don’t have to do this.” I rooted my feet to the spot.
“Of course I do, Lyra Bird.”
His eyes met mine, just briefly.
I’d let my nickname for him drop, and he’d matched me in kind.
Between us I could sense a delicate web weaving a spell I wasn’t sure I’d want to break no matter what price I would have to pay.
My heart beat fast, my palms slicking, and I let him walk me in, and for the first time in my life I no longer felt like just Luca’s sister.
“How’s the double chocolate chip?” He speared his spoon for my bowl, but I clutched it tightly to my chest.
“Back off if you value your life.” I glared and he pouted those plump, perfectly pink lips of his.
Under the lights of the booth it had begun to feel like we’d created our own little mini-verse. I reminded myself every thirty seconds that Blue was my older brother’s best friend, that this was a pity bowl of ice cream, but a voice in the back of my head tried its hardest to convince me otherwise. Sitting opposite him, I’d never felt more alive. Every breath I took pushed a rush of dangerous adrenaline around my body. My pulse quickened, flew with every passing moment.
He spooned a big heap of mint chip in his mouth and I watched with barely concealed adoration as his lips kissed across the surface of the spoon.
This thing I had going on had begun to grow out of hand; dangerously so. He’d notice soon, he’d be blind not to.
“So, this band geek thing you’re so worried about.” He waggled the spoon in my direction, his eyes never once darting to the girls who all watched us with eagle sharp awareness. Whether he saw them and chose to ignore them, or just didn’t see, I didn’t know. “You’ve just got to own it, Ly.”
I put down my own spoon and folded my arms. “Says you. Mr. Cool.”
Chuckling, his green eyes shining, he shook his head. “You’re in bigger trouble than I thought if you think Mr. Cool is the right thing to say.”
My cheeks warmed. “Shut up.”
“I can’t. I’m too cool.”
I threw him my most evil laser-beamed glare, but it just made him laugh more. Slowly though it died on his lips and he watched me with a gaze that made me feel he could read every thought I’d ever had.
Eventually, when he’d read enough, he shrugged. “Lyra, you can be whoever you want. J
ust show people and tell them that that’s the way it is.”
I sighed, searching his face, wondering what he saw when he looked at me. “That easy, huh?”
“Sure. Or just find some Cool Guy to take you to the party.”
“By tonight?” What I really meant was ‘By forever?’ Because let’s be real the chances were slim. No one wants to take the girl who carries a violin around to a party.
“I don’t see why not. You’ve had a boyfriend, haven’t you?”
“When?” I opened my eyes wide. “Have seen an imaginary guy hanging around?”
He laughed and it made my heart swell to double the size. I adored him. Simply put.
“Probably a good thing. Luca would be sharpening the kitchen knives.”
“Too true.” I cringed. “Anyway, I’m not even fourteen yet. I think I have time.”
“No first kiss then?” His gaze dropped to my mouth again and instinctively I licked my lips.
“No.”
He nodded and swallowed. “Save it for someone who deserves it.”
“Did you?”
He stretched back in the booth, his T-shirt hugging across his muscles with the movement. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Before I could ask anything else, he dove in first, striking for the kill now he’d distracted me with thoughts of kissing. “Why did you call me Blue?”
My cheeks warmed until they could have melted the ice cream if I’d held my face nearer to the glass bowl. I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Tilting his head to the side, he watched me. “Liar.”
I lifted my wrist and looked at my watch. “I’d better get back before Grams worries.”
His gaze narrowed but then he nodded. “Sure. Come on, I’ll walk you back.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
He laughed; an empty hollow sound that made me ache in places I wanted to color blue.
Outside we walked along the shady side of the street. The sugar spiked my blood, flooding me with energy.
“Why do you ask me to play?” I turned my face for him, gauging his response he might not say.
He focused on a distant point further down the street. “Because it’s better than hearing my mom and dad tear strips off each other.”
My lips curved. “Really? Luca says my playing is like cats being skinned alive.”
The green gaze rested on me. “Luca pushes you to be better, to get out of this dump.” His lips turned down at the edges.
“Are you going to get out?” It hadn’t taken us long to walk back—too quick, time stolen away from me.
He shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling, speaking for him.
“I hope you do.”
What I meant was that somehow, despite how wrong it would be, he’d carry me out of this hole we called home. We stopped, almost toe to toe and my skin tingled under the sun, the sticky heat swirling between us.
We watched one another. What do you see when you look at me? I wanted to ask.
“Hey, man.” Luca opened the porch door and jumped down onto the dirt. “I wondered where you were.”
“Just cheering up little Lyra here.” I bristled at being called little, but then I looked into Blue’s face and saw a fear there I’d never seen before. It shadowed in the depths of his gaze.
“Raven’s being a bitch,” I said, although I’d long forgotten about her and her lame ass party. Ice cream with Blue had trumped anything else that might have happened to me.
“Watch your mouth, Ly.” Luca frowned and I groaned loudly and rolled my eyes to Blue.
“See?”
He laughed and knocked me on the shoulder, just gently, brotherly, but it made my tender skin scorch.
“You know.” I jabbed Luca on the chest with my index finger as I passed him by. “I’m going to be a grown up soon, and then you’ll have to watch out.”
Luca ruffled my hair, making my tangled mess of waves catch in his fingers. “Sure thing, baby sis.”
I turned and walked up the steps to the front porch, laying on some sass in the pound of my feet on the wooden boards and in the swing of my hips, Luca punched Blue on his shoulder, but Blue was blinking up at me, his face a mask of despair.
Chapter Three
Lyra ~ Present Day
“This is a long way from home, Lyra.” Luca and I both peered through the windshield of the car up to where the map had directed us to my dorm house. Old and white with big windows, it couldn’t have been further from the wooden fronted small houses cramped close together at home.
The sky yawned a brilliant blue, stretching as far the eye could see without a puff of cloud, but the leaves had begun to turn. The air would be crisper here. I could almost taste it, keen to try something different. An air not tainted with dust and regret.
“This is it.” I pointed towards the double doors with brass handles that signposted itself as Hamilton House.
“Very fancy.” Luca raised his eyebrow and turned his lips at the corner. “I don’t want you getting all snooty when you come back home.”
“I’ve always been far more discerning than you.” I poked out my tongue—not that grown up.
“You sure have, Little Miss Snooty Pants.”
I flicked my hair over my shoulder. “Some of us are born to succeed, Luca.”
His gaze steadied on my face, and my joke squeaked to a shuddering halt, a deflated balloon of lame. “Work hard, Lyra. Please don’t waste this.”
I tried not to pull a face, not easy. “You think I’ve got all this way, fought so hard and I’m going to throw it all away on sex, drugs, and rock and roll.” I lied with ease, just another one to add to the ever-growing bonfire of half-truths I’d constructed the last couple of years. One day a match would be lit, and boom, all would be lost.
Not today though.
Luca’s jaw twitched and his scowl chiseled deep lines across his forehead.
“Ooooh, I said the word sex.” I chuckled and punched him on the arm. “Sex, sex, sex.”
“Not even funny, Ly.”
I peered up at him, trying to get him to crack a smile. “Come on, you know me better than that.”
He didn’t know me at all, not really, but this little charade worked better, safer for all of us to pretend that the past didn’t exist.
“Right, let’s get your geek badge firmly stamped and then I can hit the road home.”
“You can stay, I’m sure. I don’t want you driving too far so tired.” I hesitated and clutched the piece of well folded paper tighter.
I wanted him to turn the key in the ignition and throw his head back laughing and say, “Don’t worry, Ly, this is all a joke, no one is going to make you play violin.” But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.
He ruffled my hair in that infuriating way that made me want to bite his hand off and spit it out for the dogs to eat. “Luca!” I glanced quickly in the rearview mirror and groaned. Somehow, he’d managed to turn my relatively calm curls into a nest of frizz on the crown of my head. It was like he had static coursing through him.
“One last time.” He laughed and pulled on the handle for the door.
“That’s it. You aren’t allowed to touch my hair ever again.”
“Lyra, I won’t need to. You’ll be brushing that out for months.” Before he stretched out the car he tugged on a curl.
“Just because you got Pop’s Caucasian straight hair and I got the afro; you don’t need to make it personal.” I narrowed my gaze into a wild cat’s stare.
Luca and I were a genetic mismatch. My skin a pale coffee and hair dark curls, but my eyes were a freaky bright and pale-blue. Luca had all the blond glory but eyes a dark espresso black.
Unless you lived in our neighborhood and had survived the years of Grams waving her stick in unbridled anger at anyone who questioned our familial ties, you’d never know we were brother and sister.
After we got some boxes and my suitcase out of the trunk, I checked
the letter with my living arrangements on it. I didn’t need to; I’d already read it at least a thousand times. Room fifty-four and sharing with a girl called Eva. I read the lines again, just in case they’d changed during our twenty-hour road trip. My stomach tightened, but I pushed on and walked through the double doors, holding them open for Luca with one hand, while trying not to trip him over with my wheelie case. Cool air swept over us. I shivered as I stared up at unfeasibly high ceilings with ornate plasterwork. A wooden staircase squared up from the main entrance lobby and I searched the signs for an indication on where to go. “Up here.” I motioned to Luca.
“Where’s the elevator?”
I glanced up and down and shrugged. “I don’t think there is one.”
“Goddamn it,” he huffed and hiked the boxes up higher. “You owe me, Lyra.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled a face. “I always owe you.” This wasn’t strictly true, but he liked to think he still had control, which he didn’t, never really had. When Mom checked out on us, Luca thought it was his job to keep us going, despite us having Grams as well.
But really in the last four years I’d largely brought myself up and kept Grams well.
“Just think of the workout.” I grabbed the handle of my case and pushed in the wheelie handle, hiking it up.
Fifth floor; right here we go.
Music filtered from behind a closed door. A pop song I vaguely recognized with a catchy beat. From behind another door, a flute swiftly blew through a scale.
The sound buzzed inside me with the power of electricity straight from a power supply.
Despite my hesitation in the car, I knew my last-minute acceptance and scholarship had been a gift, a chance to escape the endless cycle of regret and disappointment that had become my existence of late. Kismet had led me here when I thought all doors had been closed. I could smell it in the dried new paint, the echo of our footsteps on the hardwood dark flooring.
All I needed to do was to not think about the violin, or the fact I’d have to play it.