TIED (A Fire Born Novel)

by Laney McMann

  “Dr. Jessup said she needs to rest, but she’s fine otherwise,” Max said and extended his hand toward Devon. “I’m Max.”

  “Benny told me. I’ve seen you at the shop. You’re Layla’s long lost friend, or something?” He shook Max’s hand and let go.

  A mocking smile spread across Max’s face. “Something like that.”

  I frowned at Devon. “Max and I were best friends when we were younger.” Max glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “We’re still best friends.” He followed that with a smirk toward Devon, who shot him a cold stare.

  “Weird that you never mentioned him.”

  “Well, thank goodness you’re okay, Layla,” Benny said, breaking the growing tension. “You’re overdoing it. You need to stay off your feet. Take a while off from rehearsal …” She drifted into an endless ranting lecture of do’s and don’ts, and I ignored her, heading back outside to the parking lot.

  Devon and Max took position on either side of me, Devon wrapping our fingers together while Max walked ahead a few steps. Benny’s rambles continued behind me, the cry of crickets overwhelming her words, as the warm humid evening enveloped us.

  Max stopped and swung out his arm. Before I could stop, I bumped into it, and Devon’s hand slipped from mine.

  A harsh chill overtook the night. Black ice spread over the pavement like clawed fingers beneath my feet. Spider-webbed crystals grew across my bare skin, covering everything in a dense frozen veil of bitter burning frost. Cold air seeped into my chest, freezing my breath, and shadowed silhouettes of abnormal shapes moved in the darkness, weaving through the parked cars, their forms coming in and out of focus under the yellowed streetlights.

  My labored, rasping breath sucked in air and terror spread through my chest, securing me like glue into the frozen pavement.

  As Max’s arm slipped away, my only touchtone to reality, the veil of cold lifted and hot air flooded through the parking lot like a river overflowing its banks. Heat coursed through my body in quick steady pulses, replacing the aching frost.

  Heaves of uneven breaths brushed my cheek, arms crushed around my waist, a beating heart pounded against the back of my shoulder, and the spiciness of gardenias swept in.

  The moon shone above, and I stood alone.

  “What was that?” My voice trembled.

  “What was what? Why are you just standing there?” Benny called over her shoulder.

  Max tugged my elbow. “Let’s go.”

  “Layla? Aren’t you riding with me?” Devon stood in the parking lot, hands held out, seeming exasperated.

  What the hell? “Um …” The words dying in my throat, I gestured toward my destroyed car.

  “Right.” He walked forward, posture stiff, jaw set. “Benny told me about your car. You probably shouldn’t be driving it. We’ll get it later, or your mom can call a tow truck and have it hauled to the junkyard.” He reached for me.

  “Her house is on my way,” Max said, interrupting Devon. “I’ll drive her home.”

  “How do you get home then?” Devon glared.

  Max grinned, tilting his head to the side. “I’ll walk.”

  “Enough.f” I yelled at no one in particular, feeling like the rope in the middle of a game of tug of war. “Max can drive me to his house, and I’ll drive myself from there.”

  Devon turned and stomped off without another word.

  Great.

  “Call me in the morning, Lay.” Benny drove by, shouting out her window. “Get some sleep!”

  Max sat in the driver’s seat waiting as I climbed in my car. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re dating that guy?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that? After what just happened? What in the hell is going on, Max?” I shut my eyes, too scared to say another word, worried if I opened my mouth again, a flood of questions would come pouring out like a faucet.

  He touched my shoulder. “Look at me.”

  I didn’t. My neck wouldn’t move. My brain quit accepting the right signals.

  “You’ve been through too much as it is. Everything’s fine.” He spoke as though he was trying to convince himself rather than me.

  “Fine?” I eyed him. “Everything’s fine? Are you serious?”

  “You’re freaking out. Don’t freak out.”

  “Tell me what’s going on! Did no one else notice we were close to being frozen to death?”

  “No, that would only be us. I’ll tell you what’s going on when I can tell you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I can’t tell you right now.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Stop talking in riddles. You’re making me crazy.”

  “It isn’t riddles. Calm down already.”

  “Whatever.” I sat back, crossing my arms, tension building in my vise-gripped jaw.

  We pulled away from the hospital, driving in silence, a million questions running through my head and making me more angry and confused, while Max kept glancing at me until he turned into my driveway and put the car in park.

  “I thought I was dropping you off at your house?”

  “Like I said, I can walk.” He shifted and faced me, cutting the engine. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “I’m not five years old. You can stop talking to me like I’m fragile.” I spit my words out, a slow burn growing in my throat.

  “No one said you were fragile, at least not of body. But of mind …” He shrugged.

  I hit him in the arm.

  He grabbed my hand. “I’m kidding, Lay. Geesh.”

  I yanked it away and climbed out of the car. “I’m not letting what happened go, by the way.” I slammed the door, and the other side mirror fell off.

  “I’m sure you’re not.” He sighed. “Let’s find something to cover your car up for now—until we can figure out what to tell your mom.”

  He cranked the engine and parked the disaster on the far side of the garage in the grass, tossing me the keys once he climbed out.

  We searched the garage, finding the old dusty tarp my mom used once after our roof was damaged during hurricane season. Max slung it over the top of my car. It hung below the windows, covering all but the lower half.

  “Better than nothing. If we’re lucky, she won’t notice.” He shifted his weight and gave me a one-sided hug, chuckling. “It’s good to be back.”

  • • •

  I paced through the living room, sitting down on the couch and standing up again. Thankfully, by the late hour, my mom had already gone to bed. She allowed me to be out late—with Benny—but the expression she’d have had on her face if she saw me with Max? That wouldn’t have been a conversation I could walk away from easily.

  I wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and stood staring at it for a few seconds, before closing it again wondering why I’d opened it in the first place. I wanted to call Max and force him to explain, but I didn’t even know his phone number.

  Everything had happened so fast.

  My mind barely wrapped around him being back. The last six years of my life seemed like it had faded into a distant past, and there I was again as my eleven year old self, except I wasn’t eleven, and something was wrong. Wrong with me, with my memory—with everything.

  I sat on the couch, wide-eyed. Every creak of a branch or rustle of the wind made me flinch. Settling back against the pillows, my eyes fixed on the ceiling, my thoughts drifted in and out.

  My alarm blared.

  I reached to turn it off and fell on the floor.

  It blared again, jarring me back into reality and the fact it was my phone, not my alarm. I squinted at the screen and hit ‘ignore’ at the unknown number, tossing it back on the coffee table before gathering myself up and stumbling through the dark house to my room, where I changed into my tank top and old soft boxers.

  A calm stillness had descended over the night. Usually, the waves crashed along the shore or the wind blew the palm fronds against the house, but everything was silent.
>
  My phone vibrated against my leg, almost sending me spilling onto the floor from my bed. Same unknown number. I chucked the phone onto my night table. It vibrated again. I snatched it back and pressed connect. “Hello?”

  “Layla?”

  “Yes!” A second later, the caller’s voice registered in my mind.

  “Why are you yelling at me?” Max asked. “And why didn’t you answer the phone before?”

  “Um … because I didn’t know it was your number? And I was asleep.”

  “You don’t sleep.”

  That used to be true. “I dozed off then. People generally don’t call me at …” I checked my clock. “Three-thirty in the morning.”

  “Right. Well, I’m out front. In front of your house.” He spoke in a rush.

  What? I peered out my window.

  “Are you still there?” He sounded anxious.

  “Yes, I’ll, um, come let you in … give me a minute.”

  I scrambled around, yanked my hair up, and ran to the front door and opened it, realizing too late that my old raggedy tank top and shorts were not the most appropriate thing for me to be wearing.

  Max stood under the white porch light, hair gently blowing across his face, his eyes bright as he grinned, his gaze roving up and down my body.

  I really wished he wouldn’t look at me that way.

  “Hey.”

  I tried very hard to picture him through my eleven-year-old eyes, a best friend’s eyes, but at eleven I’d thought he was the prettiest boy I’d ever seen. “Hey, uh … come in.” I stepped to the side and let him pass.

  He hesitated before walking by me, his head going every which way, as if surveying the living room.

  The light scent of gardenias hit my nose. I closed the door, breathing it in, realizing he hadn’t been to my house in years, and even then, if my memory served me right, it had been in secret.

  “Do you want to sit, or …” I motioned towards the couch.

  “Listen, Lay. What happened earlier … I don’t really know how to explain, but you’re safe …” He sounded like he was talking to himself. “Nothing else matters …” He ran his fingers through his hair.

  What’s he rambling on about? That made zero sense. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t. I wanted to make sure you were okay, which you are.” He turned back toward the front door.

  “It’s three-thirty in the morning.”

  He stopped.

  “Well, close to four now, and you’re standing in my living room. If you didn’t want to explain then, why are you here?”

  He turned back to me. “I told you. I came because I wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried, all right?”

  “So, I’m not crazy. Did you check on Devon and Benny?”

  “No. And no.”

  “Why not? We were all in the parking lot. I mean, whatever that was …”

  He didn’t say anything for a few beats. “Layla—because the others weren’t in any danger. They weren’t affected like you were.” He stopped abruptly and put his hands up. “I can’t say anymore.”

  “Something came after me. Us. Me.” Again.

  “Yes.” He wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  “Yes? That’s it? All I get is, yes?”

  “I can’t—I’m not supposed—you’ve forgotten who you are!”

  My shoulders tensed. “What are you talking about?” I shouted a little too loudly. If we woke my mom, that would have been the end of our conversation. “Who I am?”

  “Just trust me. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “I do trust you, Max, but this isn’t normal. It’s been almost six years! I’ve been slowly losing my mind in a very real way since you left.” The reality of what it meant to have him arguing with me was hard to let sink in. I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Tell me the truth.”

  “I’m trying to protect you. That’s it. It would be great if you’d let me.”

  “From what?” Chills ran up my spine.

  He exhaled, gazed into my eyes, and said, “I’m here for you,” in a low whisper. He leaned back against the front door as if all his energy had drained out and stared up toward the ceiling. “I’m back for you. That’s all I can tell you. Isn’t it enough?”

  I tried to comprehend what he said—the way he behaved.

  His gaze fell back to mine. “I care about you, Layla. I’m trying to do the right thing. Let me.”

  That’s why he came back. The reason he blew up my phone at three in the morning, and stood in my living room, gazing at me, trying to explain was because he was afraid.

  My anger evaporated.

  “Please, let me,” he said, voice pleading.

  I reached for his hand, unable to stop myself, the full impact of my memories staring back at me as his warmth radiated through my arm. “I care about you, too. You know that. I always have.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He leaned down, kissed my cheek, and walked out the front door. Away from me, again.

  7

  I woke to my mom shaking me by the shoulder. “It’s nine o’clock. Don’t you have rehearsal right now?”

  “Oh, my gosh!” I jumped off the couch. Why am I on the couch? Ow … head rush.

  After pausing for a second to let it pass, I ran to my room, and yanked on my dance clothes, grabbed my Gatorade, before bolting out the front door and ripping off the tarp I had draped over my disaster of a car, praying my mom hadn’t noticed.

  • • •

  Ms. Trudy is going to kill me. The dance studio was packed with dancers as I hurried in, probably resembling a windblown rat.

  “Miss Layla. I’m glad you could join us this morning,” Ms. Trudy said.

  “Sorry I’m late. I overslept.” I jerked on my ballet slippers.

  “If you are unwell, I understand, but please give me the courtesy of a phone call in the future.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I’m well.” I heaved a breath that wouldn’t convince anyone.

  “Then let us move to the Grand Hall. We have already missed half an hour of practice.”

  Stage lights of all colors flooded the theatre, reflecting off the gleaming wooden floor and blinding me to most of the theatre seats. Ms. Trudy sat in the first row, enabling everyone to see her, with her chin raised.

  “Lay, you look awful.” Benny whispered from behind me while we warmed up, slowly dancing through our combination. “Didn’t you go straight home last night?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Ms. Trudy gave me her signature glare.

  Moving straight into first position, so as not to get scolded again, I ignored Benny and proceeded through the routine in silence.

  With my mind so far away from rehearsal it wasn’t even funny, I couldn’t get the previous night out of my head. My thoughts kept drifting back to Max’s words, ‘… I’m back for you’, and shivers rippled through my shoulders.

  I shouldn’t have thought that way. Max was my best friend. Having any kind of other feelings for him—well, it was ridiculous.

  “Layla! Are you with us today? Please be aware of where you are on the floor. You practically ran Miss Dena off the stage.” Ms. Trudy was usually sweet, but messing with her, even a little bit, this close to opening night and I was done for.

  “Sorry, Ms. Trudy. My head’s a little off this morning.” I refused to veer my eyes toward Dena. Maybe it would do her some good to get run off the stage.

  “Yes, I would say so. Take a break, and get some water.” She ruffled the notes in her lap.

  Slumping back into the dance studio, I leaned against the wall under the barres with my legs straight out in front of me. I should have been scared out of my mind over the freaky cold at the hospital. I should have respected my dance instructor and paid attention. I shouldn’t have been thinking of Max.

  Although I expected Ms. Trudy to come tearing in at any moment, yelling to get back on stage, she didn’t. Benny did.

/>   “Lay?” She squatted down next to me, lying on the floor like a sprawled out cat.

  “I was awake until four in the morning.” My throat scratched like sandpaper.

  “Why?” She repositioned her legs underneath her.

  I wasn’t sure whether to lie or not. I loved Benny, but whatever I felt for Max seemed secret or something. Not sure what to say, I said, “Just couldn’t sleep. Too quiet. You know how I hate that.” It was partially true anyway.

  She turned to me for a minute. “Go home,” she said, standing up. “I’ll tell Ms. T. you were throwing up or something—side effect of the concussion. She won’t freak too bad. You practically live here.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “You need some sleep.” Her glare challenged me to argue.

  I dragged myself up to a sitting position, and Benny hauled me to my feet.

  “Should I call Devon? You shouldn’t be driving.”

  “Don’t go calling Devon.” I lugged my dance bag over my shoulder. “He’ll just drill me with a hundred questions. I owe you one.”

  She stood at the door until I got in my car.

  I rummaged around in my dance bag searching for the Gatorade I’d thrown in earlier. Benny was right, I probably shouldn’t have been driving. Thankfully, the roads were practically deserted.

  “Teine? Is that you?” Mom asked as I walked back in the house.

  “Yeah, too tired to practice. Up late. Going back to bed.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Everyone’s telling me to rest, so let me rest already. I sank down on my bed, breathing in the scent of clean laundry, and kicked my Converse on the floor.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened to your car?”

  I shot back up. Crap! I forgot to cover it with the tarp.

  “Um … yeah. Just a minute.” I wracked my brain, trying to come up with a myriad of possible excuses. The doorbell rang, and the front door creaked open.

  “Hi, Ms. LaBelle.” Benny’s voice chimed in from the living room.

  I crept down the hall, wondering what I was going to say, and ambled into the living room just as Benny threw a pair of shoes at me from the front door. I caught them, eyebrows raised in confusion; Benny’s shoes hung from my hand.

  “Layla forgot her shoes.” Benny smiled at my mom.