by Lila Rose
My heart dropped to my feet. I was sure Kane turned pale. Honestly, I felt for him; he nearly made a mistake with me and it was like getting a cold splash of water in the face to find out his girlfriend—even though they were on a break—was, in fact, here to see him. Maybe even to reconcile things between them.
I gripped my stomach. I felt sick.
Next, there was another knock at the door, which made us all jump, and then Donna called out for Kane. Rosita opened the door and went out; Kane followed her, mouthing to me that he wouldn’t be long.
Yeah, right.
I went over to the wall for some help in supporting myself. Okay, to be honest, I got closer to see if I could hear the conversation, which I could.
“Donna, what are you doing here?” Kane asked.
“Your mother called and said that she thought I should come, and it wasn’t the same without me being here on your arm.”
“Of course she did.” Kane sighed loudly.
“Kane, look, I really am sorry for the way I acted. If I thought it would have caused you to tell me we needed a break, then I wouldn’t have said what I did.”
Say what now? Kane was the one who asked for the break? What had Donna said for him to do that?
I let my own thoughts die when I heard Donna speak again, “I will never act that way again; just please say that it was all silly. I promise I will make it up to you.”
I just knew she was rubbing herself up against him, but unfortunately, I had no right to run out there and slam her face into the ground. Which was what I really wanted to do.
“No more waiting, baby. Your mom gave her permission for me to spend the night…in your room, honey,” she cooed.
It fell silent out there. Oh God, were they kissing while I was standing just a few feet away? Or worse, was he actually going to say, ‘Yahoo, I’ll race you upstairs,’ and forget that I was even in the house?
“Rosita, what is it?” Kane asked.
“Nothing, Mr Kane. Excuse me for a second.” The door to the library opened and Rosita came in.
“Donna, I…”
I didn’t hear the rest, what caught my undivided attention was the look on Rosita’s face; she looked upset and concerned. She closed the door with one hand and had a phone in the other.
“Rosita, what is it?” I asked panicked, my hand going to my throat.
“It is for you, Senorita.” She held out the phone. I took it with a shaking hand and held it up to my ear. Rosita stepped closer, her arm going around my waist.
“Hello?”
“Oh, Sky, honey.” I recognized the voice straight away. It was Barbra Keating, my Momma’s best friend from her work.
Oh no, this couldn’t be good if she was ringing me here.
“It’s your Momma, honey. There was a robbery at the store. Oh, honey, he—the man had a gun…”
Thankfully, Rosita was there, or else I would have fallen to the floor. “No, no, no. Not Momma, please…”
“Sky, hon, listen. She’s been shot; she’s at the hospital. I’m here now, but—hon, I don’t know… she’s being operated on now. Come here, honey; she’ll want to see you when she gets out.”
If she gets out. No! I will not think like that.
“I’ll be there soon.”
“Good girl; the Base Hospital. I’ll see you soon.”
I passed the phone to Rosita’s waiting hand. Had I even hung it up? I didn’t know.
Damn it to hell. Oh shit, my Momma had been shot.
How could this happen?
Not to her. She didn’t need this. Damn it, she had better pull through.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to sink to the ground and sob. But that would get me nowhere, and when I couldn’t cry, I got angry. That was better than breaking down.
“I have to go,” I uttered, my fist clenched at my sides.
“Yes, go, child. I am sorry.”
I nodded. Without thinking, I opened the door, picked up the bottom of my dress so I wouldn’t trip over, and ran. I kept running, ignoring Donna yelling, “What is she doing here?” Ignoring Kane asking me, “Skylar, what’s wrong?”
What was wrong?
A million things.
I didn’t stop, even when I heard the words that nearly broke me again from Rosita, “Her Momma has been shot while working.” And Kane’s audible answer of, “Shit.”
No, I kept moving out the front door, out into the cold night air.
On a sigh, I wondered what was going to be in store for me today at Rushton High School. Probably something disastrous, like the last couple of days, since I was klutzy enough to trip over my own two feet and land on the floor at the feet of Miss Cummins and Mr Haydn. I’d had everyone’s attention and my usual invisible geekiness was no longer working. All I heard every day since then was that I was falling for Mr Haydn, or that I was trying to look up Miss Cummins’s skirt.
Of course, I was doing neither. What I had actually been doing was trying to make enough room in the hallway for Tristan Davis and his crew to walk past. It was their teasing of others in the first place I wanted to stay away from. They were the worst, especially Tom Sinker, Hunter Gresham, and Aaron Kellie; the three of them together were trouble. Now that I no longer blended into the background after that one hiccup, they tried to flirt with me—only not in a good way. They probably thought I loved the attention they gave me. But I didn’t; I loathed it. Who wouldn’t?
Who would want to walk into a room or pass by them while getting their bottoms pinched or slapped, or something thrown at them, like food or sports equipment? Or being pulled onto their laps as everyone laughed along with them. I tried to look to Tristan for any kind of help. I found he was the one who seemed to be able to control them, because when he spoke, they listened. But every time I did, he’d turn his scowling face away.
My dad had always told me to ignore stupid teenaged boys. So I did. I no longer flinched when I felt a pinch or when something was thrown my way. I took it all, and hoped that one day they’d give up.
I didn’t have enough guts to stand up to them. I wished I did. All I wanted to do was go to school, learn, graduate, and move on to university without too many emotional scars to bring me down.
Letting out another sigh, I pushed my glasses back up my nose and opened the front door to my school. So far so good, no sign of any of them.
“Hi, Alex.”
I jumped high and grabbed at my chest when Corbet appeared out of nowhere. Corbet was like me in many ways. We loved to learn. We loved to eat Italian food, listened to eighties music, and studied. He was a great friend to have and I’d been lucky enough to have him since kindergarten. Just like Sarah, who was walking towards us—not the kindergarten part, but being a great friend. Sarah moved here two years ago, and since then, we’d been stuck like glue. Not that anyone could understand it—we were two totally different people.
“Jeez, Corbet, you gave me a heart-attack,” I complained.
“I told him not to do it.” Sarah smiled and gave me a quick hug.
Sometimes, I wondered why Sarah hung out with us. I mean, yes, she liked the things we did, but where Corbet and I both looked the geek part, she didn’t. I had dark, ocean-blue eyes. I was small and stubby, and had long, boring brown hair that was always being pushed behind my ears. Corbet was cute in his own way. He was a few inches taller than me, and skinny, with light brown hair and eyes. He also wore glasses, like me. As for Sarah, she was tall, slim, but not rake skinny, and beautiful with her long, dark red hair and light emerald eyes. She was also lucky enough to be so good-looking that no one seemed to bother her.
“Sorry, Alex. I really should have thought it through,” Corbet said with sympathy in his eyes. He knew who I thought it was. Unfortunately, he got just as much unwanted attention from the ‘three stooges’ as I did.
“It’s all right.” I started to walk with them beside me. We had the same Social Studies class to get to, and the bell was going to ring any second.
“How was your weekend, girls?” Corbet asked as we reached the door in time. The bell sounded when we walked in.
“Good, we watched the two Bridget Jones movies; you should have come,” Sarah said. Every weekend we did the same thing: sleep over at my house, rent movies, and pig out on takeaway and junk food. My dad didn’t mind; he was usually working on some court case anyway. He liked that I had the company on weekends when he was too busy. Made him feel less guilty. Not that he should, we’d been through enough after my mom passed away from cancer a year-and-a-half ago. Dad threw himself into work, and I threw myself more into studies and my new job at the local library.
“You know I would have, but I had that thing with the family.” Corbet sighed, sitting in his seat in front of our table and next to Laura Jennings, the class gossip and top cheerleader. He wouldn’t usually sit next to her, but she was moved tables when she and her best friend Brittany wouldn’t stop texting and talking.
Corbet was talking about his family’s reunion picnic they had every year. He hated them, but was made to go by his parents, or else he would have spent the night with us as well. Another thing my dad didn’t mind; he trusted me.
The teacher walked in and started speaking, so the class quieted at once. Everyone knew not to face the wrath of Mr Kenneth; he was one hard teacher to get on his good side with. It took Laura a few classes to figure that out, and only when she was moved to sit with Corbet did she finally get it.
He wasn’t a bad teacher; I got along with him fine, but Sarah had said that was because I had good grades all the time. I felt Sarah nudge my arm with her elbow; once she got my attention, she slid a piece of paper towards me.
He likes you.
I looked at her puzzled and scribbled back. Who???
She rolled her eyes and wrote, Corbet!!!
I stifled a laugh and shook my head, while winding my finger around my ear to signal she was crazy.
Fine, deny it, but I know it’s true. By the way… I kissed someone.
I couldn’t stop the gasp, thankfully no one—especially the teacher—heard.
Who??? When??? Where???
She giggled, wrote something, and then slid the piece of paper back.
Opening it, I read: Sunday night! My parents made me go to the grocery store; he was there. We started talking. I found I liked him, and kissed him before I left. I raised my eyebrows at her. She didn’t answer the one question I wanted the most, which didn’t sit well with me, so I wrote back. WHO???
She looked reluctant to tell me, but finally started writing and passed it back slowly. Please don’t be mad…Tristan Davis.
My heart started racing. Oh God, why would she have done that? He was their ringleader, and she knew how much I despised them.
Hang on a minute…what was that other thing I was feeling in the pit of my stomach, nauseous? Hate? Regret? Enmity? Jealousy?
Sarah grabbed another piece of paper and quickly wrote. Please, please don’t hate me.
I don’t. I could never! But what does this mean? I wrote.
She shrugged and scribbled down, I don’t know, but I think I like him, and he’s a great kisser!!
I nodded at her, not knowing what to write back. I was grateful when she turned her attention back to what the teacher was saying. I wish I could have as well, but my mind wouldn’t allow it.
I shouldn’t really think too much about it; Sarah liked a different guy each week. It wouldn’t last. And why was I hoping that it wouldn’t?
I didn’t know Tristan at all; we’d never spoken and he was definitely not my type. All right, so he may be good looking in a bad-boy way, with his shoulder-length black hair and dark brown eyes. He was very tall and broad in a giant’s kind of way. Way too tall for my liking.
Maybe what I was feeling had something to do with the slight envy I had for Sarah. She was beautiful and it seemed she could have any guy she liked. Where I’d never been on a date and had kissed only one guy who dribbled everywhere. No one of the opposite sex had any feeling for me whatsoever.
Yes, Sarah did say something about Corbet liking me, but I couldn’t see it. We were friends and that was all we would ever be. Besides, if he did, which I wasn’t saying he did, I couldn’t like him like that, and I knew I never would.
The bell rang, telling me it was time to move to my next class: Maths.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” Sarah whispered. I nodded before she left the room with Corbet, who gave me a quick wave walking out the door. They both had English together next period, so that left me stuck in Maths all alone with Tristan and his idiots. I only had to go next door for it.
Holding my breath, I walked through the door and sighed in relief seeing that they hadn’t arrived yet. I shouldn’t have gotten too excited though; before I made it to me desk in the middle of the class, I felt a hard smack on my rear. That time it made me jump; I looked over my shoulder to see Aaron standing there grinning. I wanted to rub where he’d hit because it was still stinging, but I knew that would only make things worse. So I quickly sat down, saying nothing.
“Come on, doll, you know you liked it. When are you going to just come out with it and tell me how much you want my body?” He laughed and others followed suit. I think they did it mainly to keep him happy and to hide the fact they were happy he wasn’t doing it to any of them.
“How do you know she doesn’t want my body?” Tom added as he sat in his seat in the back next to Aaron. I didn’t say anything, but watched out the corner of my eye as Tristan and Hunter walked in and also sat in the back.
“What’s going on, chaps?” Hunter asked.
“Nothing much, just waiting for Alex there to tell us which one she has the hots for,” Aaron supplied.
“Maybe she likes us all…could make it fun.” Hunter laughed. They then started talking about what position they’d like to have me in. I couldn’t stop the blush from rising.
“Oh, look, just us talking about it has her hot and ready.” Tom snickered.
Thankfully, the teacher, Mrs Hemingway, walked in and started the class. It didn’t take long to tune out whatever else they were saying and concentrate on cosine and tangent ratio. I loved Maths; it was my best subject. Even though I still got good grades for all my subjects, Maths was the one I enjoyed the most.
Only, it was always too soon when it finished. The bell rang for lunch; I quickly packed up my things, and started to head out before the idiots had left their seats.
“Miss Harmony, I would like to have a word with you please.”
I hunched my shoulders and turned back around to the teacher. I walked over to her desk before the guys came my way; they wouldn’t risk doing or saying anything in front of the teacher. It was only when the class had emptied that I noticed Tristan still in the room in his seat in the back.
“Tristan, come up here,” Mrs. Hemingway ordered. She had that voice where you knew to do as she said or else you’d suffer the consequences. She was a tough teacher like Mr Kenneth, who stuck strictly to the rules. She had been teaching here a long time and was now in her mid-sixties, with long grey hair that was always in a ponytail, and dark blue eyes.
“Alex,” she said, bringing my attention back to her. “I was speaking to Tristan here last Friday, informing him that if he didn’t pull up his grade that he will be failing this class. We both don’t want that to happen, so I suggested that he find a study partner, someone who has all of the knowledge of what needs to be learned. I think that someone is you.”
I couldn’t help it; I gaped. Was she serious? Me, help Tristan with Maths? Me, in a room alone with Tristan? Me?
“I don’t want her,” Tristan said quietly. His answer didn’t surprise me; who would want me?
“You do not get a choice on who is helping you, Tristan. Just be grateful for that said help.”
“I can’t,” I said and flinched away from Tristan.
“Why not?” the teacher asked.
Yes, why not, Alex? Think, damn it, think. This was wher
e my brain should be supplying me with a suitable answer. Instead, I got nothing.
“I—ah.” I shrugged. Great one, Alex, make the guy hate me even more by rejecting him without an answer.
“Alex, unless you can come up with a good explanation, I see no way around this. You are the best candidate for teaching Tristan.” She waited for me to say something, but still, I had nothing. My brain had failed me for the first time.
“Well, let’s see; I think getting together three times a week should be sufficient…”
“I can’t do three; I still have to work, and that’s Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights,” Tristan said.
“All right, two then. Friday nights and Saturday. Let’s say at the local library.”
“I work there Friday afternoons and Saturdays,” I said. Mrs Hemingway sunk in her seat and sighed in defeat. This was looking promising; our schedules didn’t correspond, so I wouldn’t be able to help him.
“I can come by after you finish on both days.” Tristan sneered.
On that, Mrs Hemingway perked back up and smiled. My stomach dropped; damn it again, why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut.
“Very good then. Alex, what time do you finish on both days?”
I rolled my eyes. “Seven Fridays and twelve Saturdays.”
“Great, that gives you two hours Friday night before the library closes, and half the day Saturday.”
“I do have a life, you know; I’m not spending all my Saturday in the freaking library,” Tristan complained.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure the two of you will work out how long you’ll need to study for. Now, you both best be off or you’ll miss lunch.” With that, she grabbed her things and walked out of the classroom.
I was not going to be standing there alone with Tristan, so I quickly followed her out. Though, Tristan was still fast enough to catch me on the way to the cafeteria and growled in a whisper, “You tell no one you’re helping me.”
Like I would want anyone to know. That was what I wanted to say; instead, I nodded my head, and he kept walking.