Manipulated

by Kimberly Montague

  "School," I countered quickly. "I'd like to get back there and have time to enjoy my lunch."

  "You get a free pass like everywhere though, right? I mean you're Ms. Gunn's lackey, aren't you?"

  I stopped hobbling. "Lackey?" Okay, maybe he wasn't just a one-Shakespeare-line kind of moron. "And you perfectly quote Shakespeare? Are you one of those geniuses who's so bored that you just cause trouble and slack off?"

  He looked down into his bag and grabbed more fries. "I'm no genius."

  I stopped hobbling to stare him down. "But you're smart, aren't you?"

  He stared back, but didn't answer my question. Eventually, he said, "Your eyes are really beautiful—like a waterfall."

  I rolled my "waterfall" eyes and tried to hobble faster. Something about the guy unnerved me, and after the whole stepdad incident where—well let's just say, I wasn't easily caught off guard anymore.

  "What is it you want from me?" The exhaustion in my voice bothered me. I'd made it my new life goal to sound like a hard-ass, but this guy was putting some cracks in my defenses.

  "Hmm, stubborn and suspicious. I'm betting some guy really wronged you."

  "You have no idea," I mumbled unintentionally and barely managed to refrain from smacking my hand over my mouth. I was not about to spill my soul to this jerk.

  "Let me guess, Captain of the football team cheated on you with a cheerleader?"

  If fireballs could shoot from my eyes, they would have. "Don't you have something better to be doing than harassing me?"

  "Oh, that's it isn't it? Was he really the Captain of the football team? You're pretty tiny to be hookin' up with a big football jock, but hey, maybe you like 'em big. Although, it's well-known that big jocks have small—"

  I stopped hobbling and turned to glare at him. "Do you ever shut up?"

  He studied me for a moment. I had no idea what he was seeing or what he thought he was seeing, but a brilliant smile spread across his soft, full lips. Urgh, I needed to get a hold of myself and stop looking at his mouth. I glanced back toward the school and down at my watch. Lunch had just officially started. Before I could figure out what he was doing, Brodie stepped closer to me, put his fingers underneath my chin, and nudged my eyes up to meet his. I could smell the clean, strong scent of his cologne, and it sent tingles down my spine.

  "You're a cherry aren't you, sweetheart?"

  What the hell! I wanted to scream. How did he read that on my face? How did he—it didn't even freaking matter. I pulled away from him and started back toward the school as quickly as I could.

  "It don't matter to me, baby. You just turned the most adorable shade of pink when I was talking about the package sizes of jocks, and well—" His voice trailed off, and I thought, or rather hoped that he'd finished talking about the embarrassing topic. "Hmm, I must be slipping in my old age. I had you pegged for one of those man-hater types. You know, thinking about battin' for the other team cuz some guy got you to give it up then ditched you. No big though, shit I'd be happy to take care of that little problem for you, sweetheart."

  I stopped again and closed my eyes, tightening my grip on my crutches and contemplating a good swing at his head with one of them. "Are you delusional? You're supposedly a man-whore, right?" He bobbed his head around, smiling proudly. I wanted to punch him. "Do you seriously get girls by talking that way?"

  He leaned forward and tapped the end of my nose. "Whoever I want, baby."

  I rolled my eyes and took in a deep, impatient breath. "Yeah, cuz your little friend back there sounded real pleased with you."

  He waved his hand back toward the restaurant in a dismissive way. "Forget about her. She'd just pissed that I don't want it again with her. I like 'em fresh, you know. More than a couple times and they get stale."

  My jaw dropped open at his callousness. He couldn't seriously think this way, could he? This had to be a front. He was obviously smart. He obviously read and remembered what he read. I wondered what his home life was like. Were his parents smart? Or was he behaving this way to get back at them for something? Damn if I didn't have to admit he had me curious. Nowhere near curious enough to jump into bed with him or put up with his line of questioning, but curious nonetheless.

  I shrugged, having no clue how I'd gotten into a conversation with this guy. I started moving again toward the school. "If they're stupid enough to fall for your bullshit, they deserve all the STDs they get."

  His voice lost most of the playfulness and lowered enough to make my stomach coil. "I said I like sex, sweetheart, I didn't say I was stupid. I'm clean, and I don't touch the school bicycles. I'm much more interested in those who haven't been ridden… yet." He winked at me, and I hated the way it made my cheeks warm up.

  Shaking my head as vehemently as I could, I laughed. "You may think your God's gift to stupid teenage girls with low standards, but I do not fall into that category. Why don't you go find yourself some mindless freshman who'd actually be interested in your attentions?"

  We reached the walkway to the front office, but he moved to stand in my path, placing his incredibly warm and large hand over mine where it rested on the handle of my crutch. "You hide behind sarcasm and wit, but I see through you, sunshine. You like my attention." He stepped even closer to me, and my traitorous eyes focused on the way his lips moved as he spoke. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

  A few minutes, what did he mean by that? It was fifth period next. "What?"

  "Civics?" His fingers caressed my hand. "I haven't made an appearance in a few months, but for you, I'll make an exception."

  I groaned. I hadn't ever seen him in my Civics class. "Seriously, don't you have anything better to do than pester me?"

  My heart literally stopped beating altogether when he stepped completely into my personal space and nearly pressed his nose and his body to mine.

  "Risa?"

  My eyes bulged from my head at his use of my name. How did he know my name? And why did he have to say it like that—all slow and sultry.

  He chuckled. "Yes, sunshine I knew who you were before today." He winked again and leaned even closer to me to whisper in my ear. "And trust me, you're the best chick I could be doing right now."

  I shoved against his chest, surprised at the hard muscles there. "You're a jackass."

  He chuckled again as he stumbled backward just a step. He recovered quickly and opened the door I was struggling with. "See you in Civics, sweetheart."

  Goodbye Peacefulness

  Lunch really wasn't enjoyable. My mind was all over the place. I'd seen Brodie around before, and I'd written late passes for him a few times, but I knew nothing about him. I had no plan for defense against him. I found myself a little sad, actually. I thought I'd finally carved out a decent existence after the mess my life had been turned into. I spent my free time in the office, kept my head down, did my work, and everyone pretty much left me alone. I had a feeling that was all ending.

  Hadn't life thrown enough flaming crap bags at my door? Couldn't I just have a rest from drama? Staring at my fries, memories of my mom floated to my mind. I missed her—the way we had been before Bill. In a matter of weeks, I'd gone from living happily with my mom—just me and her—to bridesmaid in her wedding, moving into my new stepdad's house, and being one big happy family with his fourteen-year-old daughter. It wasn't comfortable, but Mom seemed happy, so I figured it would all work out. Then it all went to Hell, which is where I dreamed Bill would go for what he tried to do to me.

  "Risa?" Ms. Gunn put her hand on mine. "You okay?"

  I snapped back to my current reality, thankful Ms. Gunn interrupted that particular trip down the traumatic side street of memory lane. Pulling my familiar mask over my face, I tilted my head at her. "Ms. Gunn, you know no one's really okay, especially around here. I think we're all headed for some nice white rooms with padded walls."

  She smiled and nodded at me, looking relieved. "It will be such a nice vacation." She took several bites of her burger before pointing at my compu
ter screen. "Oh, I sent you another one while you were getting lunch. It's good."

  She usually forwarded me weird articles about insane things going on around the world that made me laugh. It had become a contest of sorts to see who could find the creepier or more off-the-wall true stories. I was certainly happy for the distraction, so I turned back to the machine and went to my email as I shoved fries in my mouth. The headline read: Zombie Apocalypse in Redmund California.

  "Ooo, zombies," I said, smiling. "You know how I love those zombies."

  She laughed. "I know, but I think this one is real. Read it."

  Citizens of this small Northern California town have been preparing for a Zombie Apocalypse ever since the recurring signs of zombie activity began in Southern California over a year ago. With a rash of violent and gruesome crimes accompanying a flu-like pandemic, Mayor Brightly Weston says he plans to keep all his residents safe and secure.

  After interviewing most of the town, it seems all 703 citizens are in on the Zombie Apocalypse preparations. Dr. Allan Hardwick and his wife Sarah not only run the town's only medical facility, but they have stockpiled enough medications and supplies to keep everyone healthy for a period of three years. "It's important that we prepare for a catastrophic event," Dr. Hardwick says. "Not enough Americans take it seriously. I'm proud to have a mayor who does."

  In addition to stockpiling medical supplies, non-perishable food substances, and employing the use of over 2,000 solar panels, underground shelters have been built in a labyrinthine maze that spans a great deal of the town. The high school science teacher, Greg Dunlop explains, "We purchased 138 used school busses, which you can get for a few hundred dollars a piece, and we welded metal to block the windows. Then we buried them underground. They're made from a sturdy metal, so they can withstand the pressure of the surrounding soil. We've created a tunnel system with several access points so our town can get underground easily."

  With space to accommodate 800 people, food for a year, water filtration systems, and hydraulic pumps to pull water from the ground, the entire town of Redmund could potentially survive any catastrophe. However, surviving a zombie attack requires a little more than food and medical resources, which is why former Marine Sergeant Dale Kline has been working with his fellow residents to teach them how to defend themselves and their town. "We work on basics using common items like a wooden stick sharpened at one end. With that, you could easily take out a slow-moving zombie. With my stronger neighbors, we work on marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat. I've assembled a small task force of forty who are capable of running the defense of Redmund should a zombie-attack ever occur. We're more than prepared, I can assure you."

  I shook my head, laughing. "This is awesome—a whole town. Can you imagine an underground tunnel of busses?"

  Ms. Gunn finished her burger and picked up her bottle of water. "If the zombies ever attack, I know where I'm going."

  "Right," I agreed. "I wonder if they thought about that before they did the news story. Now everyone knows how well-prepared they are."

  She lifted her eyebrows. "You're forgetting that we also know how well-defended they are. In fact, maybe I wouldn't go there. If they're all special enough to be preparing for a zombie apocalypse maybe I don't want to put my face in front of their guns." She laughed lightly.

  "What are you talking about?" The school psychologist, Mr. Stacey, asked as he leaned against Ms. Gunn's desk.

  Ms. Gunn launched into the whole story, and we sat there talking and laughing about it for the rest of lunch. When the bell rang, I groaned and forced myself down the hall toward Civics. Ordinarily, I enjoyed Civics. Mr. Vigil was one of the few good teachers at Armstrong. He was sarcastic and laid-back, but he expected a lot out of us.

  As I took my seat, I found myself giving in to the age-old nervous habit of pulling at my bottom lip. I'd been doing it since I was a kid although Mom had killed the habit, deeming it unladylike. Now that I didn't give a crap about being what she thought of as a "lady," the habit had returned.

  When the bell rang to start class and Brodie still hadn't appeared, I breathed a sigh of relief. He'd likely found some other girl more willing than me. The sick feeling in my gut at that thought really had me confused and angry at myself. You are not to like this guy, do you hear me? He's a man-whore! I scolded myself. Regardless of my intentions though, the second his darkly handsome features appeared in the doorway, my breaths came out faster.

  He casually leaned in the doorway, staring at me with his lop-sided grin spread across his soft lips. "I'm here," he announced.

  "Mr. Decker? Is it really you?" The way Mr. Vigil stared, wide-eyed at Brodie, rubbed his eyes with his hands, and walked over to lightly touch his finger to him had everyone laughing. "You aren't a figment of my imagination?" Mr. Vigil held Brodie's bicep and pulled him forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have been honored—everyone, please, this is a momentous occasion. Brodie Decker." He paused to stare at Brodie and shake his head slowly in shock. "Has—attended—class." He started applauding wildly, and the others joined in.

  Brodie was eating it up. His eyes were half closed, and he was smiling with his hands stretched out. "Thank you, thank you. What can I say? I like to thrill the little people every once in a while."

  Mr. Vigil rolled his eyes at Brodie and pointed to his seat in the back of the room. Brodie straightened up and leaned down to say something quietly to Mr. Vigil. I had no idea what he was saying, but Mr. Vigil's eyes widened again. He looked dumbfounded. He said something to Brodie and put his hand out, looking grave. Brodie's equally serious face had everyone curious as he shook Mr. Vigil's hand.

  Brodie turned to me, that freaking lop-sided grin plastered across his face again. He stepped toward my table instead of toward the back where his seat was.

  Mr. Vigil came over and leaned down so Crystal, my neighbor, and I could hear him. "Crystal, would you please trade places with Brodie. He has assured me that if I allow him to sit here, he will not only behave, but he'll come to class everyday and do all his work." He raised his eyebrow at me. "I anticipate he'll be back in his seat by the end of class today, but I'm humoring him since he went to such trouble to show up and all."

  I didn't respond, but sat up straighter in my seat and tried not to look defeated. How could I fend him off sitting next to me? This was getting worse and worse by the minute. Goodbye peacefulness, I thought.

  Oddly enough, Brodie didn't speak to me the entire class period except to ask, "Can I borrow some paper, sunshine?" It was the oddest thing. When he simply winked at me and got up to leave at the end of class, I was completely confused. Not that I minded. I was perfectly fine with his presence if he would remain to be simply a "presence."

  As I sat down that night to a fine meal of pepperoni and bell pepper pizza with extra parmesan on top, I wondered what Brodie's home was like. What made him who he was? Did he have parents that cared about him? It would be so sad if he didn't have anyone loving and caring in his life like I did or used to. Looking around the empty kitchen in Dad's two-bedroom townhouse, I missed being part of a loving family. Dad cared enough to take me in, but he was busy with work—always had been. It's what broke my parents up when I was six. He was a Project Marketing Analyst, whatever that was. But it apparently meant he worked really long days and nights.

  In the two months I'd been living with him, I could count on my hands the number of meals we'd shared together. It wasn't a big deal. He hadn't changed his lifestyle for mom and me when I was a kid, so I certainly didn't expect him to change now. And he didn't entirely neglect me. Every Thursday, he called and ordered me my favorite pizza. Most Sunday nights, we'd go to this all-you-can-eat Chinese food buffet down the street with amazing egg rolls. He paid attention to how I did in school—well it was hard for him not to since he was dating one of the counselors, Miss. Abbott. He always made sure I had money and unlimited minutes on my cell phone. And when he was home, he'd sit on the couch and watch what I wanted to watch on TV.


  Living with him was fine. He was my roomie. He just wasn't around much. He didn't laugh much. He didn't ask how my day went. He didn't seem to know how to talk to me, and for some reason, that really did piss me off. Maybe it was residual anger for him ignoring me most of my life. Maybe part of me blamed him for what Bill did since Bill wouldn't have ever been in the picture if Dad had been able to make Mom happy. Maybe I just wanted someone to care that I was hurt and angry. Clearly, I had a lot to work through, and looking around the townhouse, I knew I had no one to work it through with. But hey, big shock, there wasn't some ethereal fairy godmother tailing me just begging for a way to make everything better. Life sucks, you deal.

  The next morning, I was breathing a thank-God-it's-Friday sigh of relief as I got dressed. Weekends were great. I sat around in my pajamas, watching stupid stuff on TV—Dad had all the cable channels—and ate junk food until I was sick. I also cleaned, which sounds crazy, but I found it to be really relaxing. Sometimes I did homework, but it was usually so quick since Los Gatos was seriously accelerated compared to Armstrong. And Ms. Gunn always found something weird to send me over the weekend.

  I dropped my backpack at my little desk next to Ms. Gunn's and flopped in the chair, staring coldly at my brace. Not only was it Friday, but it was the last day I had to wear the stupid thing. I'd be free from it and the evil crutches.

  "I thought you'd be happy today," Ms. Gunn said, smiling as she came around the corner.

  I shrugged, but Ms. Molin came up behind her, then Mr. Stacey, Ms. Abbott, Ms. Kensick, and Mr. Jones followed, all of them smiling at me. When she knocked on Mr. Schrader's door, and he came out with a big chocolate cupcake and a candle, I put my hand to my face.

  "We wanted to sing something," Ms. Gunn said through laughter. "But there aren't any happy getting-your-brace-off day songs."