A Charmed Life

by Jenny B. Jones

  With a hint of a smile, he wraps his fingers around mine and pulls me forward.

  I’m out of breath and totally disoriented when he finally stops. “Right over there is the bridge.” He points about a hundred feet away.

  “And there’s some of our fearless football players.” I watch as their own flashlights illuminate Dante, his friend Adam, a few guys I don’t know, and— “Oh my gosh. That’s Matt. What is he doing?”

  “Looks like he’s drinking.”

  “He doesn’t drink.”

  “Does he jump off bridges?”

  I rub my eyes and strain to get a closer look. “Are they tying a bungee cord to the bridge?” In the distance a train sings a warning. My heart triples in beat. “This is his initiation I heard them talking about.” I can’t believe he caved in to their pressure. Lindy would die if she knew this.

  “That train is really close.” Luke’s voice is a soft breeze near my ear. “They’re insane. I still don’t get the thought behind this.”

  “I don’t think we ever will. Oh, I can’t watch.” But yet I’m powerless to look away.

  “They’re tying his feet to the cord.”

  It’s everything I can do not to call out to Matt. Please don’t do this. Don’t do this.

  God, keep him safe. I don’t want to watch him crack his head open or see him ripped apart by a train. We have to stop the football team once and for all—before there’s another casualty.

  The train’s whistle grows louder, closer. Its cry seems to bounce off the water and echo.

  Matt stands motionless as his teammates move away from him, walking off the bridge.

  “Why are they leaving him? Why isn’t he moving?” Go, Matt!

  The train’s lights come into view. “Why isn’t he moving?”

  “It’s like a game of chicken. He won’t jump until the train’s right on him.” Luke’s so close I can feel his heart beat.

  “He could be killed.”

  “That’s the point.”

  I stare transfixed as the train makes its presence known. The whistle blasts into the night. The wheels beat a rhythm on the tracks. Closer. Closer.

  I can’t breathe.

  Can’t move.

  Jump, Matt.

  He watches it. I can’t see his face, but surely he’s petrified. I’m about to puke, so Matt’s got to be at least a little nervous.

  The locomotive barrels down the tracks, its urgent whistle a signal of danger, warning.

  Almost there.

  Closer.

  Feet away from him.

  It’s going to hit him!

  And Matt swan dives off the bridge.

  Without thinking, I shine my flashlight on the water. Luke grabs me by the arms and rips the light out of my grip. “We have to go. Go!” He pushes me away from the ledge, toward the trail.

  “Did they see us?” I’m panting to keep up with his pace. His hand is a vice on mine.

  What if I’ve blown our cover?

  Raised voices float on the wind behind us. They’re coming.

  How did they catch up to us so fast? Did they just leave Matt hanging?

  “Run faster, Bella!”

  “I can’t!” Pushing off the ground with my feet, my calves are groaning for rest. I was made for shopping, not running! I struggle to keep my balance on the downward slope.

  Luke’s grip tightens, and he pulls harder on my arm. Ow. Does he think inflicting pain is going to magically make me go faster?

  He zigzags us through a wooded area, different from the way we came. I know it’s a matter of time before I trip over something and fall like a girl in a cheesy horror movie. So unoriginal.

  “Bella, we’ve got some distance between us, but it won’t be long.” Luke’s barely out of breath. It’s insulting. I’m sweating right through my Soft & Dri.

  Though the guys are still a ways back there, it sounds like a herd of elephants stampeding the hill.

  “Don’t let up until you’re in the car. You got that?”

  Can’t talk. Sucking air.

  “Bella, I’m going to need you to trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that?” He doesn’t wait for my response. “Go!” he commands as we break through the trees, his 4Runner in sight. I push my remaining energy into sprinting for the door. We jump into the seats, and Luke locks the doors and turns the key. Pushing buttons on his iPod, he suddenly makes a slow country song pour out the speakers.

  “What is that?” I say, holding my panting chest. “Pick your music later. Let’s get out of here. They’re going to be here any minute.”

  Luke shakes his head, his expression grim. “No time. It’s inevitable they’ll see this vehicle. So they can’t see it tearing out of here.”

  In the side mirror I spot three of them, their faces shining in the moonlight. They’re running right for us. I grab Luke’s arm. “Do something! What’s your plan?”

  He crushes me to him. “This.” His mouth hovers over mine.

  “You said you’d trust me.” And his lips cover mine in a kiss. I tense in shock. One muscular arm slides around my back, the other around my head. He deepens the kiss, and I feel myself falling into it. The voices outside grow louder. Their steps, closer. Yet it becomes background noise, a distant thought, as Luke leans into me.

  He shifts and frames my face with his hands. I sigh into his kiss and let my fingers thread through his soft, dark hair.

  “It’s just a couple making out.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Who knows. Let’s go. Keep looking.”

  Seconds, minutes, hours later, Luke pulls away. He rests his forehead on mine and exhales slowly. “They’re gone.”

  My brain spins. My lips tingle. Heart somersaults. “Hmmm?

  Who?”

  He removes his hands and leans back into his seat. With a curious glance at me, he starts the engine. “Thanks for, um . . . playing along. It saved us.”

  I blink a few times. “Right.” I stare at my lap. “Good plan.” Good kisser.

  “We should probably stay here just a few more minutes to throw them off.” He changes the song to some upbeat number about a man and his tractor. “So the Brotherhood has initiations.”

  His fingers comb through his hair—the same hair my hands were in seconds ago. “We know these things happen at parties, when everyone else is occupied. What else?”

  “Huh? Oh . . . um, we know that . . .” My editor kisses like a movie star. “These extreme sports feats probably had something to do with Zach Epps’s injury and Carson Penturf ’s death. And there’s a pressure to not only join and participate, but to keep your mouth shut.” The fog in my head begins to evaporate. “We’ve got to talk to Reggie Lee. We could have the power to clear his name.”

  “You could. You’re the one who overheard the conversation in the woods tonight.”

  Luke puts the car in reverse and pulls us onto the path. We continue the rest of the drive in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I toss the facts around in my head. They’re all in pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle. So close I can see the big picture, but still not enough there to completely connect.

  And I realize I haven’t thought about Hunter in days. There have been a couple calls this week. Some texts. An e-mail or two. But he’s been so wrapped up in his world. And I’ve been wrapped up in—well, a few minutes ago, my editor.

  The car stops on my dirt road. Luke turns, holds me with his stare. “Bella, I . . .” His eyes look as dark as the sky. “I’ll, um . . . see you tomorrow.”

  I nod and fumble for the door handle. “Right.” My foot tangles in my purse straps. “Bye.” I jump out and run to the porch.

  Letting myself in the house, I close the door so quietly even I can’t hear it. I tiptoe through the entryway and pass the living room.

  A light flares to life.

  “Good evening, Bella.” Jake sits in his recliner and consults his watch. “Or I guess I should say good morning.”

  chapter thirty-three<
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  My alarm goes off, and I shove it to the floor. “Shut. Up.” So tired. I’ve been asleep less than five hours. The events of last night play in my fogged head like a bad movie reel. The party, the bridge, the make-out session with Luke.

  Jake’s lecture.

  I jerk the blankets over my head and try to block out the images. But I’m right back there. Jake sitting in his chair. His face blank but his eyes cautious, untrusting.

  “Do you want to tell me what you’re doing sneaking in and out of the house?”

  “I haven’t been drinking. I promise.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  He stared me down with a gaze that he probably reserves for his toughest opponents.

  I shook my head. “I had to go back to the party. It’s for the paper.”

  I held up my hand to stop him. “No, I’m serious. I can’t tell you what it’s about, but it’s big.”

  “So’s being grounded until you’re thirty.”

  “You could send me back to New York City.”

  He closed his eyes for a second. “Bella, you know that’s not going to happen. Your mother loves you. She wants you right here with her. And whether you care or not, I want you living with our family too.”

  I twisted my hair around my finger. “I know this looks bad. I just got ungrounded, so you know I wouldn’t do anything to get myself in trouble again so soon.” No, I’d totally wait a few more weeks under normal circumstances.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  I considered this. “No. But people are in danger. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “I have to tell your mother.”

  “You can’t!”

  “You’ve put me in a bad position here. Do you realize that?”

  “Yes, but—something big’s going on at school. People have already gotten hurt. I just need some time. If this situation comes out now, it’s over. We’ve helped no one. Could you wait to tell Mom? Maybe a week or two?” Or twenty.

  “Sometimes you want to trust a person, but you can’t. Right now, you’re not in a position to be trusted.”

  “And you are?” I snapped. “If anybody knows about keeping secrets, I would think you would understand.”

  “I guess secrets are okay for you but not for the rest of us?”

  “Fine, wake Mom up. Let her know what a horrible daughter she has.” I walked away, my stomach tied in a triple knot.

  His voice stopped me on the first step. “If you know people are in jeopardy, that they could get hurt, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

  I turned back and studied his face over my shoulder. And I felt that pull. That small voice whispering to go against logic and blab it all.

  “Jake . . .” I moved back into the light. “I messed up when I first came here. There wasn’t a person at Truman High who didn’t hate me. But now . . . now I have the chance to change that. I have a purpose for possibly the first time in my life. And I have to follow it. I think . . .” I chewed on my bottom lip and let revelation and acceptance wash over me. “I think I’m in the midst of my purpose here, you know? This is my time. For whatever reason, I’ve been given a giant task, and I have to see it through. People are counting on me.”

  My stepdad’s silence stretched for an eternity. Finally he nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’m going to go against my gut here and trust you—for two weeks. Then we tell your mom and both of us will suffer the consequences.”

  I would’ve rushed over and hugged him, but Jake and I—we’re not really on hugging terms yet. “Thank you. I know it makes no sense. But you’re doing the right thing.”

  He did not look convinced.

  And then four and a half hours later my alarm went off like a tornado siren. I still can’t believe he’s not going to rat me out. Makes no sense. But then, lately, what does?

  Down in the kitchen, Mom reads a parenting magazine while chewing on a piece of toast. Her Sugar’s uniform sits stiff and starched on her slender frame.

  “What in the world is wrong with you? You look like you’ve been up all night.” She jumps up to pour me a glass of juice.

  “Um, nothing. I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep.” I scrutinize every line and movement of her face to see if her husband has spilled the beans.

  “Jake said you offered to help with tonight’s wrestling party.” She wraps her arms around me. “I’m so glad.”

  “What?” I never agreed to that.

  “He told me this morning. Said you two discussed it after I went to bed last night.”

  My juice hitches in my throat. “Oh. That. Right. Yeah, can’t wait to help.” He didn’t mention there were strings attached to our deal. I have a game I need to go to. Football players to watch. People to stalk!

  “Well, this will wake you up.” She pulls out the chair next to mine. “I know you’ve been really upset over losing Moxie.”

  Still hurts. Thanks for bringing it up.

  “So . . .” She shoves a piece of paper across the table. “I got you a ticket to New York. And since you had such a good time with Lindy, I got her one too. You girls leave tomorrow morning.”

  I hold on to the ticket like it’s a Tiffany diamond. “I’m going to New York!” I jump up and down, forgetting my lack of sleep, forgetting my problems. Now I can surprise Hunter at the Autumn Ball. This is perfect. I can see Mia. And Dad.

  A plan percolating in my head, I run upstairs to text Mia.

  Have big news. Call me later.

  “Shrimp puff? Cucumber sandwich? Mini quiche?” I glide through the room, carrying a serving tray of hors d’oeuvres to men who could crush me with one hand.

  “Thank you, little darlin’. I love the light hint of oregano on the quiche.” This from a man whose wrestler name is Breath of Death.

  “And I love your t-shirt. If I’m not mistaken, that’s a Tory Burch, right?”

  I think I’ve stepped onto another planet. “Yes, it is.” I walk away before the six-foot-seven dude starts giving me makeup advice.

  About thirty wrestlers and their wives mingle with a few reporters from the local papers, plus a journalist from the Channel 5 news. Mom knows how to throw a party. And how to recruit some PR. She did it all the time for her charities.

  “What are they saying about my garlic hummus?” Dolly asks as I enter the kitchen for a reload.

  “One guy said it’s better than a pile driver, but I have no idea what that means.”

  She shakes her big blonde head. “Wrestler talk.” A shadow of a smile passes her face.

  “You miss it, don’t you?”

  “Of course not. I got so sick of hearing about wrestling back in the day. That’s all Mickey did was live, eat, and work wrestling. And now that he’s a trainer, it’s probably even worse.”

  “He’s been watching you all night.”

  “Has not.” Her cheeks burn a suspicious pink. “Well, if he has, it’s because I’ve had a plate of food in my hands every time he sees me.”

  “You should go talk to him.”

  “I’m busy, Bella. Now go push the sausage balls. I made too many.”

  “How long has it been since you spoke?”

  “To the sausage balls?”

  “To your ex-husband.” I sit down and rest my feet.

  She rearranges some perfectly lined up fruit on a tray. “The day he left. We let our lawyers do the talking after that. Not that there was much to say. He walked away and left it all behind. And I mean all. Didn’t fight for a thing.”

  Including Dolly, I guess.

  “But that was a long time ago. We’re different people now with different lives.”

  “You live in the same town though.”

  “Big enough to avoid someone.” She dusts off her hands on her apron. “Speaking of avoiding someone, if I were you, I wouldn’t avoid that.” She wiggles her brows.

  I turn around and there stands Luke, leaning in the doorway, his shoulder resting on a cabinet
.

  “What are you doing here?” I feel my own face flaming. He and I pretty much ignored each other all day, even in class. It’s hard to make out with someone at night then face him in the light of day— when it was all for show.

  Dolly takes my tray and heads back out into the sea of overstuffed men, leaving me and Luke. Together. Alone.

  “I was invited. Your mom called to see if the school paper would cover it. I saw the other media. She seems to have covered all her bases.”

  Now that Mom knows about Jake’s wrestling, she’s his biggest promoter.

  “I talked to Reggie Lee. He’s agreed to meet us later tonight if you can get away. He wanted to talk Saturday night, but I thought I heard you tell someone today that you’re leaving for New York.” His chiseled face is expressionless.

  “Thanks. I’m glad you did that—included me. I know you could’ve met him this weekend on your own.”

  He smiles. “We’re partners.”

  Awkward! Awkward! Why can’t I get over this weird feeling?

  He doesn’t seem to be fazed by it. Maybe he makes out with girls all the time in the name of a good story.

  “So are you looking forward to going back home?”

  Home. I feel more disconnected from my friends and family in New York than ever. Mia has yet to call. Dad said he’d have to work this weekend. It’s like I’m slowly transitioning to Truman. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

  “Bella?”

  “Oh, home. Yeah, I’m excited to see my dad, my best friend.”

  And just in case Mr. Arrogance thinks I now pine for him, take this.

  “And my boyfriend, of course. I’m surprising him.”

  Luke has the nerve to continue smiling. “I’m sure everyone will be glad to see you.” He pushes away from the cabinet. “I’d better get to work. Hey, pretty cool your stepdad’s a wrestler.”

  “Yeah, about as cool as him making maxi-pads.”

  Three hours later, there’s not a shrimp puff or melon ball left. I don’t know about their skills on the mat, but those wrestlers are champion eaters.