"Wait—I know," she said sarcastically. "This is for calling me superficial and going off on a completely unprovoked diatribe at a party I was hosting, right?" Brie's hands were shaking. "Don't worry, it was nothing. No hard feelings, now that you want to apologize." People nearby paused at their lockers, gaping at Rykken and Brie.
His eyes met hers. She tried to keep her hostile front, but her anger faded under his hurt gaze.
Brie glanced away, pushing a bang out of her eyes only to have it fall back into place. Rykken reached up, then dropped his hand quickly.
"All of it really," he replied quietly. He took a step back. With the extra space between them, Brie's breathing returned to something close to normal.
Rykken looked away, putting distance between them with the smallest movements. "Look, you were right. Pilot wants us to be friends and we should try."
"Well, it's too late for apologies," Brie said unkindly. She wasn't going to let him pity her as the best friend's little sister. She shut her locker door and stepped away, but Rykken grabbed her wrist.
"Wait."
Brie turned quickly. The place where he touched her burned her skin. She found herself inches away from his face, feeling his warm breath on her cheeks. She had never seen his face up close like this. He had deep, chocolate eyes with a slight curve at the edges, straight nose and lips, and high cheekbones.
She blinked several times.
"It can't be too late," he said.
Brie wriggled her arm out of his slackened grip, and he willingly released her from his hold. "I'm not a charity case."
"And I'm not doing this for Pilot." Brie eyed Rykken skeptically. He took a deep breath. "I'm not a jerk. I can be a nice guy. And I do think I misjudged you." The tone in his voice was different than usual, almost tender in comparison to the last few weeks. It tugged at Brie's heart. She felt her chest warming against her will.
Despite that, Brie shook her head firmly. "I don't think we can be friends."
Rykken flinched, swallowing hard. "A truce then?" he asked distantly, not meeting Brie's eyes.
Brie considered his offer. "A truce would be better than this."
Okay," he replied, nodding his head several times.
Brie turned away.
"Brie," Rykken said. She turned around, but Rykken was staring at the ground. "I gave Pilot the pendant."
Brie's throat went dry, her chest cold. For a split-second, she considered slapping Rykken again, but stopped herself when she remembered how that hadn't solved things the first time.
Rykken crossed his arms in front of his face, as if he expected to get walloped again. When she didn't make a move, he said, "It's okay, I think. The pendant went with this book Pilot has, Hawaiian Myths and Legends. It's back in the book, dormant. For now."
"What? Pilot doesn't even read."
"It's a book he was reading for a school assignment."
"Where is the book?" Brie asked.
"It's missing. Pilot and I looked for it on Sunday morning, but it was gone."
Brie was close to tears. "How could you do that? I told you to give the pendant to me because it was dangerous!" She clutched her stomach. "If something had happened to Pilot—"
"I know the pendant is dangerous, trust me." Rykken's voice was choked, like it was difficult for him to speak. "There's something else you should know though. When I last saw the pendant in the book, there were words engraved in the stone." Rykken shook his head, as if he couldn't believe his own words.
"Something, I couldn't read it. It looked like Latin."
"The Smaragdine Table." Brie couldn't believe it herself.
"What?"
Brie pursed her lips. "Nothing."
He looked at her. "Look, that pendant changed my moods and my thoughts. If you know something more—"
"I would tell you," Brie interrupted. He didn't seem convinced. "All I know is that the pendant is dangerous, and we're all better off without it―like I told you on the beach when we first found it." She touched Rykken's hand. "Thank you for telling me all of this."
"Telling you what?" Justin asked, grabbing her books. He had come out of nowhere, but Brie tried not to be annoyed.
Rykken backed away from Brie quickly. "Nothing. We were just talking about a class project." Rykken had a strange look on his face. "I'll see you in class Brie," he said, running his fingers through his hair as he turned to walk down the hall.
"That was weird," Justin said, smiling at Brie. She smiled back, as convincingly as she could.
"Can I walk you to your next class?" he asked. "I know it's old-fashioned." He grinned. "It could be cool though."
"No, it's great," Brie said, smiling more sincerely this time. "It's exactly what I need right now."
*****
"So I'm your Monday night girl?" Kennedy stared at Pilot with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Her eyelids were laden with silver and blue shadow, shaded to shimmer and pop in low-lighting. She fiddled with the Alan Wong's menu the waiter left behind, in case they wanted to order dessert. "Sure," Pilot said. "And Tuesday and Wednesday night, if you want." He loosened the top button of his shirt so he wouldn't sweat. "But if you're asking if there are other girls on Friday and Saturday, the answer is no." He leaned in, even though their table was in a quiet corner of the restaurant. "I just realized we've been here for 45 minutes and I still haven't learned anything about you."
Kennedy tilted her head. "What do you want to know?"
Pilot smiled. "Everything. What your family is like. What you like to do on the weekends. You're so... mysterious."
Kennedy fiddled with the black fringes on her shimmery dress. Normally, Pilot thought fringe was for cowboys, but the effect of Kennedy's dress under the lights was unexpectedly nice.
"I'd rather hear about you," she said.
Pilot glanced down at the half-eaten bowl of shellfish in front of him. "I've been talking about myself this whole time."
"Sure," Kennedy said, rolling her eyes, "you told me about school and your dad and water polo. But you haven't said anything interesting. I could read everything you've told me so far in a magazine."
Pilot set his spoon down on the white linen. "What are you saying? I'm boring you?"
"No, I'm not bored—I'm waiting to meet the real Pilot."
Pilot's heart sank—up until now, he thought the date was going well. "Maybe my life isn't as interesting as you want it to be."
"Hah," Kennedy said. "I doubt that."
Pilot stirred his shellfish. "We just met. What did you expect—intimate details about my life?"
"You sound defensive."
"I'm not defensive. This is a date though, not an invitation to my life story."
Kennedy laughed. "Pilot, calm down. I'm not the media."
"But you can talk to the media."
Kennedy smoothed the top of her head. "If you thought I was going to talk to the media, why did you bother bringing me here?" She stroked her pale hair, no longer platinum blonde, but the color of a dove's coat.
Pilot met her gaze. "Fine. What would be interesting to you?"
"How about you answer one of your own questions." Kennedy dipped her fork into Pilot's bowl, snagging a piece of shellfish. "What is your family like?"
Pilot watched her chew, wondering how girls could eat without messing up bright red lipstick. She looked at him expectantly.
"Well, we threw a party last night and my dad and sister barely spoke. Sometimes I think if I wasn't around..." Pilot trailed off. He didn't want to finish that sentence, not in front of Kennedy. "Anyway.
Next question."
"Oh, come on. That's all you give me?"
"I already gave you some shellfish." She looked at him like he was an idiot. He twisted his neck, rolling his shoulders back to loosen the tension. "I can't be an open book, okay? I'm not built like that. The more public my life gets, the more private I want to keep it."
Kennedy was silent; she stared at her plate, twirling noodles around her fork. "We
ll, your family can't possibly be more dysfunctional than mine. Both my parents passed away a few years ago."
"I'm sorry," Pilot said automatically.
"I guess you would understand," she said, meeting his eyes. There was something vulnerable about them.
"Yeah. Absolutely," Pilot put a piece of shellfish in his mouth.
"Anyway, I live with my sister now." Kennedy looked up at him, frowning. "In Los Angeles."
Pilot dropped his spoon, splashing shellfish broth onto the white linen tablecloth. "What?"
"I'm here on business," Kennedy said. "But my sister and I live in Los Angeles. I work for her company, actually."
All the unformed plans Pilot had for them―school dances, hanging out on the beach, dinner with his family―vaporized in that one sentence. "I guess that's why you wouldn't let me pick you up."
Kennedy smiled. "It would be tough to explain the hotel address over the phone."
Pilot felt a sharp pinch in his chest. "Are you really seventeen?"
"Yes." Her expression reflected back the pain in his own. "I didn't lie to you Pilot. I really went to school at Iolani too." She put her hand on his. "I just need you to know that I'm not staying."
Pilot pulled his hand away. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "You have some nerve."
"What does that mean?"
"You wanted me to tell you all this personal stuff, and then you drop this bomb on me." Pilot rubbed the back of his neck. "You asked me why I bothered bringing you here, but I think a better question is why did you bother coming here?"
She shrugged. "I like you." She acted like it pained her to say the words out loud.
"You must have known nothing could come of it. Maybe that's what you wanted." He lifted his napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. "I shouldn't be surprised—enough girls did this to me in New York." He pulled out his wallet. "Don't get me wrong, it was fun. I was a freshman in high school, hooking up with older girls who used me like a status symbol. I didn't care why they wanted me, I just took advantage of it." He took out his credit card and put it on the table. "I'm over that though."
Kennedy stared at his credit card, her mouth open. She shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that.
I'm sorry if I gave you the impression I just wanted to hook up with you."
"Look, Kennedy, you're a beautiful girl. You're fun, and sexy... but I don't want to play your games. I want something real." As soon as he said it, he realized how true it was. There was something so empty inside him, creeping to the surface. He buried it so well the last few months; he'd even managed to hide it from himself.
She sat back in her chair and pulled out a pack of Mentos. "This is real."
"How can you even say that? This is nothing. We're talking in circles."
She popped a mint in her mouth. "If it weren't real, you wouldn't have asked me out, and I wouldn't have accepted. But you did, and I did, and now here we are. If it weren't real, it would be easier to walk away. But it isn't, is it? For either of us." She held her pack of Mentos out to him, offering him one.
He gazed at her. Her expressions were softer than the day he met her, and he almost liked her better this way—a little vulnerable, not spilling over with confidence.
He took a mint. "Do you want to get out of here?"
"For a walk on the beach?" she asked. "Or because I ruined things and the night's over?"
"No, you didn't ruin things." He beckoned the waiter over. "Not yet, anyway."
Pilot paid for their dinner and they walked out to Waikiki strip. The place was flooded with tourists, but they were mostly couples enjoying the evening. Kennedy placed her hand firmly in his as they walked.
He turned her hand over, touching the rings on her fingers absentmindedly. "So I guess asking you to Punahou's homecoming dance is probably out of the question."
"It's this weekend, right?" Kennedy tugged on the bottom of her dress until it covered most of her thighs.
He took his brown leather jacket off. "I know, it's probably short notice." He wrapped his jacket around her, rubbing her arms to warm her up.
"No," Kennedy said, pulling the coat around her. She breathed in deeply. "I mean, I can't go. I'll be out of town by then." She met Pilot's eyes. "Thank you for asking though. If I could go, I would."
Pilot tried not to show his disappointment. "Where are you going?"
"Back to LA on Friday night." Kennedy stared at the sand. "I don't want to though."
"The dance is on Saturday. Why don't you stay a few extra nights? You could stay at my house—we have a lot of guest rooms."
"Can't," Kennedy skimmed the shoreline with her eyes. "My sister and I don't get along that well.
She won't understand why I want to stay."
"But you don't need her permission, do you?" Pilot asked.
"It's weird," Kennedy said. "I feel like an adult, and I have an adult life. But I'm still only seventeen, so legally, she has say over everything I do."
"Yeah, that sucks." Pilot tried to imagine being done with high school and on his own. With James around, and more often not around, he was practically on his own anyway, aside from having Brie to take care of.
Kennedy made a face. "My sister is crazy. She forces me to do things I hate."
"Like what?"
Kennedy unwrapped her Mentos pack further, her hands shaking. "I can't tell you, obviously."
"Why?" Pilot took the pack from her and tore off a piece of the wrapper before handing it back. He wasn't sure what was so obvious about it.
Kennedy gave him a look. "Let's talk about something else, please."
"Uh, okay." Pilot wasn't sure why she was closing him out again.
"How's your paper going?"
"I turned it in today."
"Did you learn anything interesting from Hawaiian Myths and Legends?"
"No."
They walked in silence for a couple minutes before Kennedy spun out in front of him, dropping his hand. "You know what? If you don't want to have a normal conversation, let's go to my hotel room. You can add me to what sounds like a long list of girls who's names you probably can't even remember."
Pilot felt his chest tightening. "I've never told anyone about that, not even Brie or Rykken. It's not something I'm proud of, and it's not what I want for us. Not that there can ever be an 'us.'"
Kennedy grabbed both of his hands like she wanted to shake him. "You are so damaged. Did you know that?"
Pilot glared at her. "No I'm not."
"Yes you are. It's subtle, but underneath that calm exterior, it's there."
Pilot pulled away from her. "You keep shutting me out too."
Kennedy pulled his jacket tighter around her body—she looked like she was swimming in it. "Is it so hard for you to believe I like you for who you are, not for your name or your money or your status or whatever those other girls liked you for?"
"You haven't exactly made it easy for me to trust you."
"Because you think your problem is that you're famous. Do you think it's easy for me to trust you just because I'm not?"
"I don't know."
"I don't need your money Pilot. I have a trust fund and a job. And if I wanted a status symbol, there are plenty of people higher up than you in LA."
Pilot didn't say anything. She adjusted the collar of his shirt. He let his hand drift to the nape of her neck while the other got tangled in her ivory hair. His lips found hers, and once they started kissing, they couldn't stop.
Eventually she pulled away from him, practically shoving his chest to put distance between them.
"Let me guess," he said, breathing hard. "You have to go."
She wiped her lips with her thumb. "You're not the only one who's scared."
"I'm not the only one who's damaged."
She gave him a hard look. "Are you sure you want something real, Pilot?"
"No."
She took off his jacket and held it out to him by the collar. "Me either."
; He grabbed her wrist instead of the jacket and pulled her closer to him, wrapping his hands around her waist. "But we're going to try anyway, aren't we?"
*****
Rykken stood as close to the Homecoming bonfire as he could, without making it obvious he was eavesdropping. He looked out at the ocean; normally, it gave him a sense of calm, but tonight it moved with fury, the waves crashing violently onto the beach. The Flaming P had already been lit, and the bonfire was swarming with Punahou alumni of all ages.
The bonfire was a Homecoming tradition, and tonight the excitement was high because Punahou won their Homecoming game against their biggest rival Iolani just a few hours earlier. As an athlete and the varsity water polo team captain, he was expected to show his face. He stole a glance at the three girls sitting in fold-out chairs next to the fire.
"You were right about the map," Thessa told Brie. "Would you believe that James has been watching Milena this whole time? He has an entire file cabinet of all her travel."
"Brie," Sirena said, "you went on a lot of those trips. Do you remember anything—"
"No," Brie said. Her voice brought Rykken a mixture of pain and guilt. He hadn't spoken to her much the past week. She was always with Sirena or Thessa or Justin. And even when she wasn't, Rykken didn't know what to say to her. The distance between them seemed insurmountable, no matter how many times they apologized to each other.
"We went on vacations," Brie said. Her voice wavered. "We visited museums, memorials, tourist spots..."
"Those weren't vacations," Sirena said. "Milena was obviously looking for something."
"What would she be looking for?"
"We don't know. Neither did James—but he traced all the places she went. Her credit cards, her airline miles... somehow he gained access to all of it. That's what the map is for. It's a checkerboard of all the moves she's made."
"Thessa," a voice said. Rykken glanced back—it was Cora. The cheerleader made eye contact with him, before turning back to the Thessa, Sirena, and Brie. "Let's take a walk on the beach." It was a strange suggestion—aside from the fire, everything was pitch black because it was a new moon. Rykken wondered if they were trying to move away from him.
Silver Smoke (#1 of Seven Halos Series) Page 15