by Mia Sheridan
"I'm sorry, Rusty, it was just an accident. Please don't fire me." I needed this job. As much as I hated to beg for it, I had people relying on me.
"Gave you enough chances. There'll be a line down the street for this job tomorrow." He pointed at me, his eyes cold and mean. "Should have appreciated what you had and worked harder. Those pretty looks of yours won't get you anywhere in life if your head isn't screwed on straight."
I was well aware of that. Painfully aware. All you had to do was look at my mama for that fact to be established.
Blood whooshed in my ears. My neck felt hot. I took off my apron and dropped it on the floor as Rusty continued to mutter about the ungrateful, worthless help.
I stepped out of the store a few minutes later, the sun just setting over the mountains behind me—the sky awash in pinks and oranges. The air was cold and held the scent of fresh rain and sharp pine. I took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling lost and defeated. Losing my job was very, very bad news. Marlo was going to kill me. I groaned aloud. "What more?" I whispered to the universe. But the universe hadn't been responsible for my stupid choice. Only I could take credit for that.
Sometimes my life felt so small. And I had to wonder why those of us who were given small lives, still had to feel pain so big. It hardly seemed fair.
I put my hands in my pockets and started the walk to the base of our mountain, my school backpack slung over my shoulder. In the spring and summer, I'd read as I walked, the road familiar enough to me that I could concentrate on my book. Cars rarely drove this road and I always had plenty of advanced notice if one was coming. But when the fall came, it was too dim once I left Rusty's—not that that would be a problem anymore—and so I walked and busied my mind. And tonight was no different. In fact, I needed the distraction of my dreams. I needed the hope that life wouldn't always be so hard. I pictured myself winning the Tyton Coal Scholarship, the one I'd been working toward since I started high school. Every year, one of the top students was chosen to win the scholarship, which would send him or her to a four-year university, all expenses paid. If I won it, I'd finally be able to get out of Dennville, away from the poverty and the desperation, the welfare fraud, and the drug-pushing "pillbillies." I'd finally be able to provide for Mama and Marlo, move them away from here, get Mama the help she needed from a professional doctor, instead of the hollow-eyed one at the free clinic who I suspected was the center of the pillbilly business. I'd make a stop at Rusty's as I drove out of town, and I'd tell him to shove a stale box of Cheerios up his bony, flea-bitten ass.
As I turned the corner toward the base of the mountain, I saw old Mrs. Lytle sitting on the steps of the now-closed post office eating the last of a packaged sandwich. I squinted at her and smiled slightly when her eyes caught mine. My gaze went to the wrapper in her hand, the one that said "Rusty's Ham and Cheese," with a big red time stamp, dated today. It was the one Kyland Barrett had stolen just ten minutes before. "Evening, Mrs. Lytle," I said. She nodded, her sad eyes blinking as she took the last bite of the sandwich. Mrs. Lytle was almost part of the landscape at this point . . . an alcoholic who wandered the streets of the tiny town, mumbling to herself, and collecting pocket change from the townies to fund her addiction. She'd lost all three of her grown boys and her husband in the mine accident. I suspected she was hoping to follow them sooner rather than later. "You gonna be okay, tonight, Mrs. Lytle?" I asked, stuffing my hands deeper into my pockets. Not that I could offer her anything if she wasn't, but I wanted her to know I cared. Maybe that was something.
She nodded, still chewing. "Oh, I think so," she slurred. "I'll make my way somewhere after I'm done enjoying this fine show." She nodded up to the dwindling sunset.
I nodded back, letting out a breath and smiling at her. "Okay, then. Good night."
"'Night."
As I began walking the dirt road up the mountain, someone stepped in front of me and I let out a startled scream, stopping in my tracks and stepping backward right into a mud puddle. Kyland.
I huffed out a breath. "You scared me!" I stepped out of the mud, feeling the wetness seeping into my socks where my soles were cracked or coming loose. Great. Thanks, Kyland.
He looked down at my feet, but didn't mention my ruined shoes. His eyes narrowed and he studied me for a few beats. "Why'd you do that? Back at the store? Why'd you help me?" His jaw ticked in anger.
I narrowed my eyes back at him, tilting my head slightly. He was angry with me? What in the ever-loving hell? "Why'd you give the sandwich to Mrs. Lytle?" I asked. "Why didn't you eat it yourself?" I crossed my arms. "I know you need the food." My gaze slipped to the ground at the reference to that private moment in the cafeteria when our eyes had met. But then I quickly looked back up.
He didn't answer me, and we both just stood looking at each other for a few silent moments. Finally he said, "He fired you?"
His face was tense and serious, and I couldn't help but to admire his strong jaw, the straight line of his nose, the fullness of his lips. I sighed. No good would come from those observations. "Yeah, he fired me."
Kyland stuffed his hands in his pockets and when I began to walk, he did, too, swearing under his breath. "Shit. You needed that job."
I huffed out a humorless laugh. "You think? No, I just worked sweeping floors because Rusty's charming disposition is so inspiring. Oh, if only there were more Rustys in the world." I brought my hand to my heart as if it was overflowing with love and admiration.
If Kyland noted my sarcasm, he didn't acknowledge it. "That was a really stupid move."
I stopped and turned to him. He stopped, too. "A thank you wouldn't be out of line. Rusty would have pressed charges in a New York minute. It would have made his day to press charges, maybe even his pathetic life."
Kyland looked behind me, out to the horizon. He sucked on his full bottom lip and furrowed his brow, finally looking back at me. "Yeah, I know." He paused, his eyes moving over my face slowly. I fidgeted under his scrutiny wondering what he was thinking. "Thank you."
I took the time to study him, too, now that he was up close. He gazed back at me, his gray eyes wary, his eyelashes long and thick. It was hard to really hate someone so good-looking. That was just the unfairness of life. Because I'd have really liked to hate the boy standing in front of me. Instead, I looked away and started walking. He fell in step beside me, and we walked in silence for several minutes.
"You don't have to walk with me."
"A young girl walking in the dark by herself is dangerous. I can make sure nothing bad happens to you."
I snorted. "All evidence to the contrary."
Kyland let out a short, surprised laugh.
I hefted my backpack up on my shoulder. "Anyway, young girl? I'm as old as you are. Maybe older. I turn eighteen in May."
He looked at me sideways. "What day?" he challenged, moving ahead of me and walking backward so he could look me in the face.
"May second."
His eyes widened. "No way. That's my birthday, too."
I stopped, surprised. "What time were you born?" I asked.
"I don't know exactly . . . sometime in the morning."
I started walking again and he fell in step beside me. "Afternoon," I said reluctantly. I could see the pleased look on his face out of the corner of my eye and I pressed my lips together.
After a minute, he said, "Seriously, though, you should be careful. There are bobcats on this mountain."
I sighed. "Bobcats are the least of my worries."
"You think so until a hungry one is standing right in front of you. Then it becomes your biggest problem real quickly."
I made an amused, agreeable sound and Kyland glanced over at me. "And what exactly would you do if a bobcat stepped into our path right now, Kyland Barrett?"
He looked surprised. "You know my name."
I started walking again. "It's a small town. I know everyone's name. Don't you?"
"No. I make it a point not to. I don't need to hea
r anyone's story, and I don't need to know anyone's name."
I tilted my head as I looked over at him. "Why not?"
"Because when I win the Tyton Coal Scholarship and get out of here, I don't want to carry a bunch of useless information from this useless shithole with me."
I turned to him again, surprised. "You're trying to win the scholarship?"
He raised one eyebrow at me. "Yeah, does that surprise you? Don't you see my name on all the top academic lists?"
"I . . . I mean . . ." Suddenly, Kyland grinned. My eyes widened and I stumbled slightly. I'd never seen him smile like that, not once, and it transformed his face into something . . . utterly beautiful. I gaped at him for a moment before gathering myself and increasing the speed of my steps. He sped up beside me. I shook my head, feeling unsettled, and attempting to remember what we'd been talking about. Right—the scholarship. Yes, I was surprised. I had seen Kyland's name on academic lists, but I didn't imagine that he had applied for the Tyton Coal Scholarship. He'd never shown up at any study groups or prep courses. It was always me, Ginny Rawlins, and Carrie Cooper. I knew they had applied for the scholarship because we'd discussed it. I thought they were my top competition. Kyland, despite his good grades always seemed so . . . disinterested?
"How are you going to win the scholarship when I'm going to win the scholarship?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Kyland looked over at me quickly, amusement on his face as he shook his head. "Not a chance," he said, smirking. "But it does make things more interesting, doesn't it?"
I snorted softly. I didn't need interesting. I needed that scholarship. But I could hardly believe Kyland had much of a chance of winning it if I hadn't heard about him applying until just now. I didn't figure there was much cause to worry.
We walked in silence for a few minutes before I said, "Won't Shelly be mad knowing you're . . . protecting another girl from bobcats?"
He looked over at me, confused. "Shelly? Why would she—" He chuckled. "Oh, right." He shook his head and ran his hand through his golden-brown hair. I noted that it was thick and glossy and it curled up at his neck. "Me and Shelly, we're just friends."
I raised my eyebrows, but chose not to comment on that. I had enough to worry about, let alone who Kyland Barrett was kissing. "So, where will you go if you win that scholarship?" Not that you will.
"Away from here."
I nodded my head and bit my lip. "Yeah," I said simply. Kyland looked to the left as we walked past the light blue, wooden house set back from the road, the forest looming large behind it, not a single light on. When he looked back at me, he was wearing a small frown.
"Well, thank you, Kyland. It was very chivalrous of you to walk me up the mountain, you know, despite the fact that you got me fired from my job, ruined my only pair of shoes, and stole my birthday." I continued walking, and when he stayed beside me, laughing softly at what I'd said, I looked up at him questioningly. "I'm just right up the road. I don't expect there are any bobcats between here and there." I smiled a nervous smile. I didn't know if he'd ever seen my trailer, and I didn't especially want him to.
But he just kept walking next to me silently. "So, Tenleigh . . . the job, are you going to be okay? I mean," he looked to the side uncomfortably, "is there something I can do?"
I bit my lip. What was he going to do? He had an ill mama at home as well. For all I knew, he was worse off than me. "No. I'll survive."
Kyland nodded, but when I glanced at him, the worried look hadn't vanished from his face.
When we arrived at my trailer, I stopped and smiled a small, tight smile at him. "Well, good night," I said. Kyland looked at where I lived for long moments as color rose up my cheeks. For some reason, standing there with him, it looked even worse than it usually did. Not only was it tiny and rickety, but the paint was peeling and rusted and there was a dirty film over the windows that I never could clean no matter how much vinegar I used. His home wasn't much better, but I still couldn't help the shame that filled me as I looked at my home through Kyland's eyes. He looked back at me and my embarrassment must have been evident on my face because his eyes widened and something that looked like understanding came into his expression. I spun on my heel and walked on shaky legs to my trailer.
"Tenleigh Falyn," Kyland called, letting me know that in fact he knew my name, too. I stopped and looked back at him questioningly.
He ran his hand through his hair, looking uncertain for a brief moment. "The reason I gave that sandwich to Joan Lytle . . ." He looked off into the distance as if he was choosing his words carefully. "Even for people like us—there's always someone who's hungrier. And hunger, well, it comes in different forms." He lowered his head. "I try not to forget that," he finished quietly, looking slightly embarrassed.
He stuffed his hands back into his pockets and turned and walked away from me, back down the road. I leaned against the side of my trailer and watched him until he disappeared.
Kyland Barrett wasn't at all what I had expected. And something about that both confused and thrilled me in a way I wasn't sure I liked.
CHAPTER THREE
Kyland
"Hey, Mama," I said, shutting the door to my house behind me and glancing into the living room where her chair sat in front of the TV.
My mama didn't greet me back, but she never did. I was used to it now.
I went to my bedroom and opened the window as wide as it would go and stood looking out at the early evening sky, my hands braced on the windowsill as I drew in deep breaths. After a few minutes, I lay down on my bed right next to the window, bringing my arms up and resting my head on my hands behind me.
My mind went immediately to Tenleigh Falyn. I couldn't believe I'd gotten her fired from her job. I groaned aloud. It was mostly her fault, so why did I feel like such a shit about it? It'd been her own stupid choice to cover for me. But thank God she had. If I'd been arrested for stealing . . . it would have been bad, very bad.
I hadn't even known exactly why I stole that sandwich for Mrs. Lytle until I'd attempted to explain it to Tenleigh. And the only reason I'd offered an explanation at all was because I had nothing else to give Tenleigh as thanks for the sacrifice she'd made for me. I'd seen Joan Lytle sitting on the stairs of the old post office and something in the way she was hunched over as if she was trying to curl up into herself hit me square in the gut. I'd felt that way, too. Only I, at least, had a roof over my head. I, at the very least, was only hungry the last week of every month when the money ran out. Something inside me had needed to let her know I saw her, as much for her as for myself. And so I'd swiped the sandwich.
Stupid. Idiotic.
It was even worse that I wasn't sorry, except for the fact that Tenleigh had been the one to pay the price.
Tenleigh.
My mind moved to the expression that had been on her face as I'd looked at her trailer. She'd felt shame, which was kind of ridiculous. My house was in shambles, too. My life was in shambles. I was hardly one to judge her situation. But I hadn't really been looking at her pitiful little trailer anyway. I'd been looking at the area around her trailer. It was clean and orderly, not a single piece of garbage in sight—the same way I made sure to keep my own yard. Up and down this hill, the yards and properties were strewn with garbage—just another way the people in Dennville exhibited their defeat. No one on this mountain could afford a luxury like garbage pick-up and most yards were buried under a pile of crap—a good metaphor for most lives in these parts. But each Monday, I gathered my garbage into two garbage bags and carried them down the hill and emptied them in the big dumpster out back of Rusty's. Then I folded the garbage bags up and put them in my backpack. I made them last. When it was a choice between a couple cans of SpaghettiOs and a box of garbage bags, I was going to choose the food. I'd seen Tenleigh carrying a big box down the mountain now and again and wondered what was in it. She must be doing the same thing. And I knew it was because she had pride. Which, for people like us, was more a curse than a bless
ing.
I'd noticed Tenleigh before that, too. In fact, I'd watched her in the few classes we had together. She always sat at the front of the classroom and I would position myself in the back so I had the perfect view. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I liked the way she reacted unconsciously when someone who annoyed her talked to her—scratching her bare leg and pursing her lips . . . the way she squinted up at the blackboard in serious concentration and nibbled at that pink lower lip . . . the way she sometimes stared out the window with that dreamy look on her face. I'd memorized her profile, the line of her neck. A hollow, ill feeling rose in my chest when I noticed the bottoms of her shoes, full of holes and practically falling off. I could see that she had used some kind of magic marker to color in the scuffs on the tops. I could picture her at home, coloring in those spots because she cared what people thought of her old, ruined shoes. It enraged me that she had to do that. Which was completely irrational. And which, of course, meant I had to stay far, far away from Tenleigh Falyn. I couldn't afford to feel the things I felt just watching her. More to the point, I didn't want to.
After the day she'd caught me swiping the leftover food, I'd seen her watching me when she thought I wasn't looking. I was no stranger to the enjoyment of the finer sex. I wasn't one to turn down an offer if I got one—who didn't want the distraction of a willing body to remind you that you hadn't just been made for suffering? But somehow I sensed Tenleigh wasn't watching me with that kind of interest. She looked at me as if she was working out some kind of puzzle—as if she wanted to know me. And I couldn't help wanting to know why.
Stupid. Idiotic.
She had this quiet about her—something soothing, a strange mix of strength and vulnerability. She was beautiful—I'd definitely noticed that, too—but her beauty was obviously something she didn't put much effort into, which made her even more appealing. To me, at least. She didn't wear any makeup and her hair was generally held back in a simple ponytail. She obviously didn't consider her looks to be her most valuable asset. And it made me wonder what was. Her smarts? Maybe. Not that she had a chance of winning that scholarship. I'd been working on it since before I even started high school. I had even studied all the past winners' accomplishments and made sure I had every single box checked. I needed that scholarship. My whole life depended on it. So, as far as what it was about Tenleigh that interested me so much, it didn't matter. I'd be leaving soon and I'd never look back, not at beautiful, green-eyed Tenleigh Falyn or anyone else.