Chasing Ivy (Oak Hill, #1)

by S. J. Sylvis

  She was wearing her cotton, lilac-colored, star PJs, her best friend’s parents following closely behind her. As soon as she was in my arms, we both collapsed onto the rough ground, hot from the fire. The volume of her cries eclipsed mine by a landslide. She pulled back just slightly and looked up into my eyes. “Are Mom… and Dad… okay?”

  She could barely get the words out and I was hoping with everything I had that she wouldn’t make me answer. I couldn’t. I couldn’t form the words.

  My silence was enough. She buried her head into the crook of my neck, sobbing even harder than I thought possible. Her tiny frame convulsed in my arms as the tears kept falling from my eyes, even though I was trying my hardest to get them to stop. They were silent tears. I wasn’t sobbing anymore. My body wasn’t hijacking its frame with uncontrollable shakes, like my sister; there were just rivers streaming down my face in silent pleas to make this all go away.

  I turned my head to the left, staring at the dying flames and the firefighters working so diligently to get them under control.

  My entire house just went up into hot, simmering flames, leaving nothing in its wake.

  Nothing at all.

  ✽✽✽

  Dawson

  Her cries would stay with me for the rest of my life. I had never known true pain until the moment I saw Ivy collapse in front of her burning house with her sister in her arms. I literally wanted to pick her up and just carry every single bit of hurt that was suffocating her. The second her eyes met mine, when she realized that her life had just gotten turned completely upside down, was the moment I realized that I loved her so fiercely that I would do anything to put the light back in her eyes. I would do anything to put a smile back on her face.

  I promised myself right then, that I would spend the rest of my life making her happy again. I promised myself that I would spend every waking moment, surrounding her with love, making up for the fact that her parents had just been stolen from her.

  I just wish I could have known that seeing her curled up with her sister in front of the smoking embers of her house was the last time I’d see her for a long, long time. Then maybe I wouldn’t have made promises I would be forced to let go of.

  Chapter Eight

  Ivy

  It’d been three weeks since the fire.

  These three weeks had been such a blur that I couldn’t even conjure up images of anything other than the four paneled walls that surround my sister and me every night. We shared a room, which was fine; I wouldn’t want her to be away from me, anyway.

  As soon as things calmed down on the night of the fire, the police had contacted the only person who I knew would take us in.

  Uncle Timothy.

  He was my father’s brother who lived four hours away, up north. My grandma, really the only family member my parents had forced us around when we were younger, had been put into a nursing home a couple years ago with Alzheimer’s. My sister and I had one more aunt, but she lived in a different country due to work, and that was about all the family members we had.

  Uncle Timothy was it.

  He was also a recovering alcoholic who had a serious gambling problem – hence the reason that all the money my parents had to their name was already gone. He paid off his debts in order to stay out of jail…in other words, in order to be considered a “fit” guardian.

  I should feel thankful that he’d taken us in. If it weren’t for him, my sister and I would have been thrown into foster care, at least according to CPS, who had taken us in for the couple days that it took to get things settled with my uncle. They had to come up with a plan, figure out the money issue, and so on.

  I no longer had my cell phone, I no longer had the clothes that I’d obtained over the years from shopping with my mom…I had absolutely nothing, except for my sister and the clothes on my back.

  We didn’t even get to have a funeral for my parents because, well, my parents couldn’t exactly be buried, as their bodies had been burnt beyond recognition (not that I’d actually seen them; I couldn’t even bear the thought), and who was going to pay for that? According to my uncle on the first night he brought us home, as he made us mac n’ cheese from a box with the stupid SpongeBob characters on it, funerals were expensive and he couldn’t afford one. But once we got some more money, we would do something special. As if doing something special would close the wide, gaping holes in our hearts. Yeah, okay.

  My uncle wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, he was really nice to us. But he wasn’t parent material. He was nothing like my father, which was probably why we’d never really seen him much over the years. Their relationship had been strained. My father had been the successful owner one of the best car dealerships in town, whereas my uncle was basically the black sheep of the family.

  Uncle Timothy ended up getting me a job working at a pizza parlor, and thankfully my sister and I didn’t have to finish the last couple weeks of school, given the circumstances. I just hated that everyone at the pizza parlor looked at me as if I was about to burst into tears at any given second.

  Which would be accurate, if I’d felt anything at all.

  My uncle had pulled me aside a day ago, while Mia was taking a shower, worry lines making permanent wrinkles in his forehead.

  “Kid, you’ve gotta work on trying to cope sooner or later. I’m getting concerned.”

  I just looked up at him, not moving a single inch of my face.

  He swallowed, looking away for a brief second. “I know it’s hard, Ivy. I know this isn’t ideal. You and Mia had amazing parents and now you have this…” His tanned arms fanned out around him, urging me to take a look at the house.

  The kitchen was so outdated that it belonged in a 70’s sitcom. Pale green countertops and dark wooden cabinets lined the walls. The floor was tiled with strange yellowish designs on every inch, making it almost painful to look at. My uncle barely knew how to make a grilled cheese sandwich and although he made enough to support us, he liked to gamble all his money away, which was exactly why he’d gotten me a job. I was going to have to start paying for stuff on my own, now that I didn’t have my parents. It felt like a slash to my heart and that slash was opening wider each day.

  He was right, though.

  If there was anything I’d learned from the past three weeks, it was that life wasn’t fair. Sometimes we were given certain circumstances that were almost unfathomable to deal with, but that’s just the thing: you either deal with them or they’ll just take you down in their midst. I was learning that pretty quickly. I felt like I was just constantly drowning, except instead of waving my arms frantically above the stormy waters for someone to save me, I was tying a ball and chain to my leg to drag me further below the surface. If I didn’t deal with this profound hurt eventually, it was going to swallow me up whole.

  My voice was no more than a peep. “Can I use your phone.”

  It wasn’t even a question. Just a plain statement, lacking any kind of enthusiasm or hope.

  “Of course,” he said, almost excited that I was actually talking. “Just try to make it quick. It’s a TracFone and I only have a few minutes left until my next paycheck.”

  I nodded as I dialed the only number I knew: Becca’s home line. I instantly regretted using a cell phone and programming everyone I knew to their own special speed dial number because now I didn’t know anyone’s number.

  And by anyone, I meant Dawson.

  We rarely called each other, anyway. We were always together.

  The phone rang and rang and rang and if I had been feeling any type of hope…it would have been long gone.

  I left her a message, brief but to the point. I told her that I needed her to call me back, at my uncle’s number, but more importantly, I needed her to tell Dawson that I was okay, and that I’d see him soon. My heart almost felt something, thinking about him.

  As soon as I hung up, I glanced at the Playboy calendar hanging crookedly on my uncle’s refrigerator. It was May. Becca and her family were more than l
ikely on their summer vacation which they took every single May during the last week of school. They’d been doing that for years now, like clockwork.

  I knew what I needed to do.

  I knew what I needed to do in order to stop feeling like I was a hollow tree without any feelings at all.

  I needed my best friend.

  At least I didn’t have to be strong around him. I could cry and weep and get all my feelings out in the open and then clear it all up before I came home to Mia.

  She needed me and she needed me to be strong.

  But right now, all I wanted was to be weak.

  The bus ride to my not-so-hometown-anymore was awful. I was sweating because it didn’t seem that the air vents worked at all in the back of the bus. We’d made a zillion and one stops, making this four-hour drive more like six and a half hours.

  I didn’t have my cell with me, since I no longer had one, and I couldn’t afford one until I at least got my first paycheck from the parlor, so this time, I was on my own. If I focused my eyes hard enough, though, I could see the tiny digital clock up front where the driver sat.

  There was no way I would make it back in time for my shift if I had to ride this bus back to Uncle Timothy's, but I knew I wouldn’t have to. Dawson could take me back. It was a four-hour drive. My shift started at six. We could make it if we didn’t spend too much time at his house.

  Finally, once the bus tires screeched and jolted us all forward, causing me to audibly groan, I shot up to my feet. My legs were wobbly from sitting for so long but for the first time in three weeks, I’d actually felt a tiny sliver of something. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was excitement, but maybe it was hope. Hope that seeing Dawson and being crushed in his arms would make me feel a little less empty.

  It was probably a mile or two to Dawson’s house from the bus station, but thankfully it was right in the middle of town so I knew all the shortcuts to get to where I needed to go. I definitely wanted to dodge anyone and everyone who surely hadn’t forgotten my face in the last three weeks, because the only person I truly wanted to see…was Dawson.

  I rounded the corner of the hardware store, glancing through the window for just a second, but something caught my eye, causing me to do a double-take. My stomach lurched and I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. It was so intense my hand shot up to rub my upper ribs underneath my skin.

  There was a single piece of crisp, white paper with a black and white image of my parents on the front. I inched closer, my eyes locked on their happy faces, feeling myself gasp for air. There had been a memorial for them.

  Last night.

  In the park.

  While my sister and I were four hours away, shut off from everyone and everything we’d ever known.

  It had only been three weeks, but I felt like we were in a completely different world. Like the town of Oak Hill, Ohio no longer existed. Like the entire town was this tiny little blimp, floating away in the sky only to disappear and never return.

  It hurt. It hurt me to know that this wasn’t my town anymore. It hurt me to know that my parents no longer lived here.

  My feet swayed underneath me but I reached my hand out anyway, ripping the picture down off the glass. I folded it shakily and slid it in my jean pocket.

  This was the only picture I had of my parents. Everything else had burned in the fire.

  I shook my head out, trying to clear my thoughts and started to head towards Dawson.

  If I could just get to Dawson, I’d be okay.

  I’ll be okay. With Dawson, I’ll be okay.

  I repeated the mantra in my head the entire way to his street. His house was only a block from mine but I made sure to steer clear of where my house once sat.

  Maybe someday I’d come back and be able to face it. I’d be able to face the fact that someone else would use that ground and build their dream home, just like my parents did, but not today. I couldn’t do it today. I could barely breathe today.

  My breaths were ragged as my feet propelled me down the sidewalk towards the two-story home that I’d spent my last night, in this town, at. I was so close to seeing Dawson that I thought I might combust. I got a glimpse of the old oak tree out front and it only made me move my feet faster.

  I knew this was right. I just needed Dawson! I hope he’s home.

  As soon as I peeked around the tree, moving my feet a little closer to his side of the street, my heart stopped beating. Everything around me crumbled like buildings shattering during an 9.9 earthquake.

  Dawson had stepped out of his house, his long brown hair flying away from his face. I almost yelled out to him with desperation but when I saw someone step out from behind him, I wanted to just disappear.

  I recognized her right away.

  Her blonde hair was piled high on her head in a cute messy bun and her skirt was so short that I swore I could see her underwear. She squealed at something Dawson said and he nudged her with his shoulder.

  The same shoulder he used to nudge me with, all the time.

  My heart sank to my feet and my eyes instantly filled up as I watched them walk around the driveway so she could climb into her car. The stupid car she’d gotten from her stupid dad’s car dealership. The stupid dad that she still had.

  I quickly stepped backwards and half-hid behind an overgrown bush, feeling it scrape along my legs. My mouth opened and small puffs of air escaped me. I felt like I had just been hit by a bus, multiple times. Seeing him with another girl, Breanna, at that, three weeks after my life felt like it had ended, was the tip of the freaking iceberg and I was sinking way faster than the Titanic.

  Part of me wanted to run over and scream at him and ask how he could betray our friendship like that, especially right after he’d kissed me and made me believe that he had stronger feelings than just friendship toward me. But the little bit of strength had me pulling rational thoughts of out the deepest parts of my brain and keeping me hunched behind the greenery.

  It didn’t matter if I ran over to him right now so he could give some sane, normal excuse as to why he was walking my worst enemy (whom I really didn’t give two shits about any longer) out of his house, and to her car, which was parked RIGHT beside his Camaro. He could protest with some elaborate, amazing response that had me nodding my head in understanding; “Oh, Breanna was just here for,” … yeah, I had nothing.

  But the reality of the situation would outweigh any excuse he had. What the heck would Dawson do with me now? I was completely torn inside. Broken. And at the moment, I was feeling completely and irrevocably unfixable.

  I thought he was the only person who would be able to put me back together but I was wrong.

  I was going to have to do that on my own.

  If there had been anything left of me still unbroken, Dawson had just finished the job. It was clear that he didn’t need me as badly as I needed him and I wasn’t about to pull him under, too. Seeing him with Breanna did do something for me though: it made me angry. So freaking angry that I felt my blood boiling underneath my skin. Like my veins were surging with fire.

  And that was good.

  Because anger was something. I could use it as my shield. I could use it as a lifeline, like I was using the burning edges of the rope to pull myself out of a certain Hell. I’d use the anger to pull myself out of this godawful mess.

  I didn’t need anyone to help me. I would put myself back together on my own.

  Dawson and I had been right the night we’d kissed.

  Things were definitely going to change.

  Chapter Nine

  PRESENT

  Ivy

  As I stood in front of my new (to me) home, I honestly felt at peace. It may have been slightly crappier than all the other homes that lined the street but at least it was mine, and at least it was in a town that I have been in love with since I was born.

  I didn’t think I’d ever be able to come back here. I hadn’t stepped foot in this town for the last six years but then all of a sudden, when the
re was a job offer for me here, I didn’t have a second thought about coming back.

  It worked out perfectly. My old neighbor, Judy, who worked at the main bank in our town, had called and told me that there was an opening for an accountant. She knew that I would be perfect for it; I had graduated with honors from my community college and then gone on to complete my BA at an online school while I worked my way up in a bank up north. And not to mention all the practice I’d had with balancing money and figuring things out. I’d finally gotten my Uncle Timothy on his feet after a couple years of us struggling with his debt and gambling issues.

  “Well, it looks…” I turned to glance at Mia who was standing with one eyebrow lifted and her mouth set in a grim line. “It looks… nice?”

  I laughed. “Relax, I’m going to fix it up, as soon as possible. Just be happy that you can come here on your breaks instead of a tiny two-bedroom house up north with Uncle Timothy.”

  “His house wasn’t that bad,” she protested, looking back at my house again. “We’re still going to visit him on holidays. Right?”

  My heart softened. “Of course. He did take care of us…” I paused. “Well, I guess I should say that we all took care of each other during the last six years. He’ll miss us more than he’ll admit.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, he’ll miss the breaker always needing turned back on after we’d run our hair dryer and straightener at the same time.”

  I threw my head back and let out a loud laugh. Poor Uncle Timothy. He had gone from being a gambling, recovering alcoholic, living on his own as a gas station attendee, to raising two teenage girls who’d just lost their parents and were completely broken. He hadn’t been the best guardian… but he definitely got an A for effort.

  Mia and I both filled our arms with overstuffed cardboard boxes and heaved them through the entrance of my house. It smelled like dust and mildew, but I could work with that. Nothing a little lavender scented Fabuloso couldn’t cover up.