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by Denise Grover Swank


  I pick up my bag and follow in a huff. “You don’t have to be so nasty about it.”

  He stops at an old model black Trans Am, the kind of car Dad would drool over. Thinking about my dad pisses me off even more.

  “Who do you think you are?” I ask when I reach him. “What makes you think you can just order me around?”

  “Tell me how you feel right now.” He gazes down at me, his expression serious.

  “I’m pissed as hell!”

  “Good, and how did you feel a few minutes ago?”

  The difference slams me like a brick wall. “Dead.”

  He leans over and touches my cheek with his fingertips. “And which would you rather feel Julia Phillips? Dead or pissed?”

  I smack his hand away then snatch my books out of his arm. “Neither.”

  Leaning his head back, he laughs, the sound filling the parking lot. He opens his car door and tilts his head toward the passenger side. “Get in.”

  I stomp, pain shooting through the ball of my foot. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  He slides into the car. “Suit yourself. Have fun walking home.” The engine starts, but the car doesn’t move, giving me time to reconsider.

  Grumbling, I walk around the car and fling the door open. Reece sits behind the steering wheel, gripping it with both hands, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

  I plop into the seat with an exasperated groan. “You’re an ass.”

  He chuckles. “I’ve been called a helluva lot worse.”

  When the door shuts, it occurs to me I’ve lost my mind getting in a car with this maniac.

  He tears out of the parking lot, tires squealing, confirming my fear. I grab onto the door, my knuckles white. “Oh, my God. Do you have to drive like that?”

  He grins, looking mischievous. “Yes.” Shooting out of the parking lot, he turns the opposite direction from where I live.

  “This isn’t the way to my house. You better take me home right now.” Panic bubbles to the surface. I really am an idiot.

  “Calm down, Newbie. I’ll take you home, but I kinda like you so I’m gonna teach you some things to help you survive at your new school.”

  The heavy textbooks smash my legs so I push them to the floorboard. They land on my backpack and slide on top of my foot. “Ow!” I scoot my legs, trying to make them fit with everything in the way.

  Reece laughs.

  “You’re not the nicest guy in the world, are you?”

  He turns and shoots me a wicked smile. “You better believe it.”

  “Fine. You want to share your old-school secrets. Spill.”

  He laughs again, speeding down the road.

  Suddenly, I have a moment of déjà vu. Riding in a car with Reece. I’ve never been in a car with him before, but this moment seems so strong and familiar, like reliving a memory. Maybe I really have lost my mind.

  “First rule, never, ever let them know you’re scared.”

  “Come on, Reece. It’s alternative school, not juvie hall.”

  He shrugs with a grin. “Nevertheless, it’s a good rule to live by, no matter what your circumstances. Now repeat it.”

  “No.” I scoff. “That’s stupid.”

  “Repeat it.”

  Some deep-seated intuition tells me he won’t stop until I do, like I somehow know him. The thought shakes me. “Uh… don’t ever let them know you’re scared.”

  He turns to me with an arrogant smile before turning back to the road. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Although you could have used more conviction.”

  “I’m not saying it again.”

  “Okay, fair enough. Second, don’t ever lose who you are, no matter how much they try to reform you.”

  “What exactly goes on in alternative school? Waterboarding?”

  He smirks. “Repeat it.”

  “Don’t lose who you are,” I say in exasperation.

  “You’re getting better. Next, always have a number two pencil.”

  I roll my eyes. “This is stupid. You don’t have any hints. You’re making this up as you go.”

  “Repeat it.”

  “No. I’m done. Take me home.”

  “Okay, but not yet.” He drives toward the business section of town and turns into the McDonalds parking lot.

  I stare at him, bewildered. “McDonalds?”

  Reece ignores me as he drives around to the drive-thru line, pulling up to the menu board. “What do you want?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t have any money and I don’t need anything anyway.” But my stomach betrays me and rumbles loudly at the thought of food.

  He leans toward me, his voice softening. “James Monroe spreads rumors faster than CNN can air a live update. I know you didn’t have lunch and you look like you could blow away in a strong wind.” He sits up and his gruff demeanor returns. “Now what do you want?”

  I gape.

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just order you something anyway. Hope you like fish sandwiches.”

  I don’t. “Um, a hamburger.”

  He orders two Quarter Pounder value meals. The cashier asks what he wants to drink and his eyebrows raise, looking at me.

  “Diet Coke.” I can’t believe he’s doing this. I can’t believe I’m letting him.

  “Make that two Cokes,” He says then drives forward to the window.

  “I said Diet Coke.”

  “I know. I heard you.” He gets the bag and hands it to me as he pulls away.

  I took out my hamburger and hand the sack to him. My face burns with embarrassment. “Thank you.”

  He grunts as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

  I eat a few nibbles, then wrap up the rest. I’m nervous sitting here with him and it’s hard to choke down the food.

  Reece shoots me a sideways look. “I’m not taking you to your house until you eat it all. You can take all night for all I care. You’re the one eager to get home.”

  I glare. “Who do you think you are?”

  “Hey, you’ll thank me later.”

  “Fat chance,” I say with a scowl. But again, somehow I know he means what he says even though it sticks in my craw that he’s bossing me around.

  He’s silent the rest of the way to my house. I finish the last of my hamburger and he turns down my street after I give him directions.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

  He parks at the curb in front of my house. “Solidarity.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve joined the club now, the alternate school kids.”

  “Is there a secret handshake or something?”

  He laughs again, his green eyes dancing. “You almost make me sorry I left there already.”

  “That’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “And you haven’t even started your new school yet.” He winks. “Have a fun first day. Tell Mrs. Humperdinkle I said ‘hi’.”

  I scoop up my books and backpack. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  “Good luck, Julia Phillips.”

  I climb out and just as the car door closes, he speeds away. As I walk to the porch, the fog in my memory burns off and I realize where I’ve seen Reece before. He was the boy in my dream. Before I have time to process this development, Mom is waiting in the front door. “Who was that?”

  “No one.” I push past her into the house.

  “No one? You come home late from school in a car with a boy, who speeds in a residential neighborhood I might add, and you say it’s no one? I deserve an explanation, Julia.”

  I’ve started down the hall but whirl around to face her. “You want an explanation, Mom? Let’s start with the fact I got kicked out of high school today and start alternative school tomorrow. It occurs to me they wouldn’t make a decision like that without talking to you first. Am I right?”

  The guilt on her face answers for her.

  “I had to clean out my locker today, ‘cause guess what, Mom? I’m not going back there. My ac
ademic record is completely screwed now.” So it was already screwed. I conveniently leave that part out. “It took so long to clean out my locker that I missed the bus. I had thirty pounds of books, wearing a skirt and boots, and a two-mile walk home. Reece was nice enough to give me a ride.”

  “Reece?” Mom asks. “What happened to Evan?”

  “That’s a really good question, Mom. Perhaps you should ask Evan.” I turn on my heels and start down the hall.

  “Julia, are you sleeping around?”

  I spin around, the heavy books digging into my arms. “Oh. My. God. How can you even ask me that?”

  She looks embarrassed. Her eyes dart to the floor than back up at me. She crosses then uncrosses her arms. “It’s okay if you are.” She shakes her head. “No, it’s not okay, but you’re sixteen, and I can’t stop you if you really want to do it.”

  “Mom!”

  “But if you are, we can make sure that you’re protected.”

  And I thought this day couldn’t get any worse. “I’m not sleeping around! How can you even think that?”

  “Well…”

  Stomping off to my room, I slam the door behind me and throw my bag and books on the floor. They land with a heavy thud against the wall. A trickle of satisfaction runs through me when I see the new gouge. I drop onto the bed and cover my head with my pillow.

  Mom knocks on my door later to tell me that dinner’s ready.

  “I’m not hungry!”

  She doesn’t know I ate with Reece so let her feel guilty. That’s what she gets for accusing me of sleeping around. Especially since it couldn’t be farther from the truth. I only had my first kiss a day ago.

  The thought of kissing Evan dampens my momentary burst of satisfaction. I dig my cell phone out of the bottom of my backpack, amazed it hasn’t been smashed by the books. I check the screen for texts or missed calls.

  Nothing.

  Rot in hell, Evan Whittaker.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’m the one rotting. If alternative school isn’t hell, it’s the closest a person can get without descending the seven circles.

  And I was wrong. People do stare, but instead of with curiosity, they leer, sizing me up. The teachers are nice but harried, faced with far too many students in desperate need of attention. We can all thank state budget cuts for that.

  My day is long and tedious. There are so many remedial students that we spend entire class periods on a fifteen-minute lesson. At lunch, I sit by myself. I’m used to it, yet I’m not prepared for the loneliness that washes through me. The thought of surviving the rest of the year here, let alone possibly my senior year, is enough to make me consider taking my antidepressants again.

  I wonder how Reece survived. And why he went here in the first place.

  And how he got out.

  My appointment with Dr. Weaver is after school. The alternative school is close enough to his office that I can walk. After a lengthy argument last night over me driving, Mom finally relented and said she’d pick me up from my appointment after she got off work.

  The final bell of the day rings and I hurry into my coat and out the door. I have to hustle to walk the mile and a half and make it on time. I cut through the parking lot and that’s when I see him.

  Evan.

  My heart sputters and I freeze for a second before forcing my feet forward. How did he know where to find me?

  He leans back against his car, his black hair blowing in the breeze, looking gorgeous. I hate him for that. “Julia.”

  I walk past him, trying to pretend he doesn’t exist.

  He strides over and blocks my path.

  Reluctantly, my gaze shifts up to his anxious face. “Get out of my way, Evan.”

  “Julia, I’m sorry.”

  When I try to step around him, he lifts his arms to his sides, blocking me in all directions.

  I have to admit he looks pretty miserable, but I’ve been pretty miserable too. It serves him right.

  “You should have told me that sometime in the previous twenty-four hours, Evan. I don’t even know why you were so upset.”

  “I know and I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “No.”

  His eyebrows shoot up and he looks as surprised as I am by my answer. “No?”

  “No! I’m not forgiving you until you tell me the truth. What happened?”

  He rubs his face with his hands, a now familiar habit. “It’s complicated.”

  “Yeah? Well, guess what? This isn’t.” I dart under his arm and resume walking.

  “Julia!’ He catches up in seconds, falling into step next to me.

  “I don’t have time to waste listening to you. I have twenty minutes to walk a mile and a half to the doctor’s office.”

  “Are you sick?” His voice raises in concern.

  “No.”

  “Then why—”

  He tries to take my hand and I shake it off.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Reece?”

  I pause, spinning to face him. “What about Reece?”

  His face hardens. “I know he drove you home yesterday.”

  Are there no secrets at James Monroe High School? “How did you find out?”

  His brows furrow when I don’t deny it. “Reece told me.”

  I snort then continue walking. Stupid male testosterone.

  “So it’s true, then?”

  My feet halt in their tracks. “Seriously? You ran out yesterday after yelling and practically accusing me of stealing my bracelet. Then you leave without any explanation and don’t call, don’t text, nothing, and you have the nerve to get upset when someone else drives me home?” My voice is shaking when I finish.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for hating me. I hated myself all yesterday and today. I’m miserable without you.”

  “You still didn’t tell me what happened!”

  He grabs my hands. I try to shake them off but he holds tight. “It’s the bracelet.”

  “No kidding. What about it?”

  “Are you wearing it now?”

  I hesitate before nodding. After yesterday I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to rip it off my arm.

  “Can I see it again?”

  I cock my head to study him, unsure that he deserves my trust. He’s almost as pale as he was yesterday, his black coat making the contrast more severe. His eyes plead with mine and his grip on my hands feels desperate.

  He knows something about this bracelet and I know nothing. Curiosity wins out. “You have to let go.” I shake my hands.

  He releases his grip, defeat covering his face as he casts his gaze to the sidewalk.

  He thought I meant no. A small stab of satisfaction coats my irritation. I pull the bracelet out from under my sleeve, past my wrist and lift up my hand. It dangles from my arm. The sun pokes through the overcast sky. Light catches the flat side of the charm and its reflection is dazzling.

  He stares at it, then gingerly reaches his hands up to mine, holding my wrist as though it will snap in two if he applies too much pressure. He opens the palm of his other hand, holding it under the charm and bends over to read it. When he flips it over, his expression hardens. For a moment, I worry he’ll yell or run again, but he’s anchored to the sidewalk. His blue eyes raise to mine, swimming in unshed tears.

  Evan studies me, as if making a decision, his fingers dig into my wrist. Uncertainty flashes in his expression, then love. Unabashed love.

  My breath catches.

  “I’m sorry.” His jaw tightens and he swallows. “I thought it belonged to someone I knew. I screwed up. I screwed everything up.”

  Disappointment courses through my veins. “You don’t know anything about my bracelet?”

  His gaze drops and he murmurs, “No.”

  My eyelids sink closed as I take a deep breath. It was foolish to think Evan had a connection to the bracelet, but he might know something else. I gather my wits a
nd open my eyes. “I want to see your necklace.”

  His eyes widen. “I told you—”

  “You’re lying. You didn’t lose it. You hid it from me and I want to know why. It’s a Celtic love knot, isn’t it?”

  His mouth twists. “Yes.”

  “Why did you hide it?”

  He shifts his weight. “Because it’s weird that you’ve been drawing them for months and I have one. You already have a hard time trusting me, and I didn’t want to freak you out more.”

  I study his face, trying to determine if he’s telling me the truth. “Can I see it?”

  Evan hesitates, then digs into his jean pocket and pulls out a chain. I hold my hand out and he carefully places it in my palm.

  It’s a silver pendant, with delicately carved, interconnecting hearts, nearly identical to the one’s I’ve been drawing. I look up into his face. “This is a girl’s necklace. Where did you get it?”

  Pain flashes through his eyes. “Someone I knew.”

  My voice softens. “It belonged to the girl from your story.”

  He nods, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

  The world is spinning as I try to piece this together. The girl he loved wore this and I’ve been drawing it since the accident. What does it mean?

  Evan grabs my hand, shaking me from my musing. “Julia, I’m so sorry. I hurt you and I don’t have any right to ask this, but I’m going to do it anyway. Please give me another chance.”

  Emotions take flight in my chest, all fighting for attention at the same time. Anger. Relief. Betrayal. Hope.

  Be smart, Julia.

  He hurt me. I should turn around and leave him in my dust, but something about him seals the door of my pain and makes me feel alive again. Being with him is like an addiction, hard to walk away from when freely offered. My resolve begins to crumble.

  My face has given me away. Hope fills his eyes.

  I spin from him and continue my trek. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. Right now I have to go or I’m going to be late.”

  He reaches me in only a few steps. “Okay, fair enough. But let me drive you. It’s only right since I made you late.”

 

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