by Shari Copell
In fact, Nicks was impressed that he did such a thing. Anyone who was different at this school took a lot of shit. She grudgingly admitted to herself it was nice that he gave of his time to work with the autistic kids.
Still, it didn’t mean she wanted to talk to him.
Stone took a step toward her; she pressed back tighter against the book cart.
“I’m not going to bite you,” he said.
“You’re damned right you’re not.” Despite the show of bravado, she felt like a trapped animal. This was not Tapestries. She was not onstage. There was no part of this school that felt like a comfort zone to her.
“Do you still go to school here? I thought you were eighteen?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He blinked. “You’re right. I apologize.” He picked up his coat and guitar and started to go around her.
That was it? He was leaving?
The nasty encounter at Tapestries notwithstanding, this was the most interaction she’d ever had with him. Unless you counted the time he’d come up behind her in Guitar Center and tapped on her shoulder. He’d scared the shit out of her that day. She went after him like a pit bull, but she’d also been inexplicably drawn to him.
For some crazy, fucked-up reason, she wanted to have a normal conversation with him. He might be a narcissistic wienie, but they had some things in common. Guitars. Being musicians. There was no one else she could talk to about those things.
“Yes. I still go to school here. I’m in my senior year. And I’ll be nineteen at the end of October,” she said hastily.
“Oh.” He studied the carts behind her. “You’re here awfully late. Let me guess. Detention?”
It was a sore spot. Nicks was tempted to let fly with a fuck you. Instead, she nodded, feeling like a criminal.
“Do you know how many thousands of books I put back on the shelves of this library during detentions? Mr. Marius hasn’t changed a bit. He still picks at those he admires.”
She scoffed. “He doesn’t admire me. He hates me.”
Stone laughed. The sound went straight into her gut like an arrow. “He doesn’t hate you. He wants to be you. It was bad enough for me when I went to school here. I imagine it’s doubly bad for you, being female. He treats everyone who’s talented at anything like shit. Even the art students take crap from that asshole.”
Nicks stared at him. She’d never thought of it that way.
He set the guitar down beside him. “Speaking of...while I have you cornered and all...I want to tell you how sorry I am for saying such rotten things about you last year.”
She clenched her fists. “Why did you say those things? You didn’t even know me!”
He laid his coat over the top of the guitar case and took a step toward her. “It was nothing more than jealousy. You’re a much better guitarist than I am. You rock, and I resented it. It’s as simple as that. I’m sorry. It was unkind and unfair.”
“Every musician in Pittsburgh laughed at me after you said those things! I was humiliated! You think throwing a fast sorry at me can fix all that?” She took a step toward him. Two could play that game. “I worked damned hard to get where I am. You didn’t know a thing about me when you said that shit.”
“They didn’t laugh at you, Nicks. They knew how good you were and could see me for what I was. An envious dickhead. All I did was make an ass out of myself. I know two little words won’t make up for what I said. I owed you honesty, and I gave it to you. You were better. I was jealous. I’m sorry.”
His apology drained the fuel from her anger. He seemed sincere. “I’m not better. I have a long way to go before I catch up to you.”
“That’s not what I hear out there.”
She blushed and looked away.
“Forgive me? I’m not going to insist we be friends or anything. I just wanted you to forgive me.”
“I’ll think about it.” It was all he was getting from her...for now.
Willow came into the hallway. “Nicks, are you coming? Oh, hello, Stone. Music lessons again?”
Stone half turned to the librarian, though he never took his eyes off Nicks. “Hi, Mrs. Jeffers. Just finished cleaning up.”
“Hey,” Willow said brightly. “You know how to shelve books. Do you have anything pressing to do right now?”
“No.”
“It’s detention night. Would you mind staying and helping us? Nicks has an English Lit test tomorrow. I need to get her home early so she can study.”
Be in the same space as Stone Jensen? Oh, God. Nicks shifted her eyes to Willow, hoping she’d see the big N-O there. Her mother’s best friend didn’t even notice.
Things seemed to move in slow motion after that. Stone Jensen, slowly blinking those sinful dark-lashed eyes, threw the most exquisite smile at her. “It would be my pleasure to help you shelve books tonight.”
Nicks squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d just be gone when she opened them.
He wasn’t.
Stone pulled a handful of books from the cart next to him then spared a glance at Nicks sitting on the floor in the next aisle. She hadn’t said much since Mrs. Jeffers asked him to help. In fact, he got the impression she was doing her best to ignore him.
She was still angry. Okay. He could work with that. He’d have to approach her slowly to show her he wasn’t the asshole he’d proved himself to be a year ago.
Being close to her felt like a caffeine buzz. There were no outward signs of the excitement he felt, but he was fist-pumping and high-fiving himself in his head. He’d talked to her, and she hadn’t put a shoe in his boys. It was a start.
“Hey, last cart. We’re almost done,“ he called to Nicks across the aisle.
She rolled her eyes as she shoved another book onto the shelf in front of her. “Thank God. I’m nearly cross-eyed from looking at these spines.”
Mrs. Jeffers came around the corner with an armful of books. “I really appreciate the two of you doing this. This would’ve taken me days.”
“I’m on detention all week next week too. I’m sure I’ll be down here helping you,” Nicks said.
“What? He gave you detention all week? Like every day?” Stone asked. That was harsh, even for Marius.
“Yeah. I dropped the f-bomb in front of him.”
Stone walked into her aisle and crouched down beside her. “I’ll be here for guitar lessons at least three of those days. I’ll help you.”
Nicks seemed a little panicked. “It’s not necessary. Really.”
“Oh c’mon! Look how much fun we had tonight.” He tried to hold her gaze, but she was having none of it.
“I appreciate it, but I don’t want either of you to get in trouble for helping me.”
Willow scoffed. “This is my damned library. I’ll run it as I see fit.”
Stone grinned. “See? Don’t worry, Nicks. We got this.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you parked?” Stone asked as he pushed the wide broom up and down between the bookshelves.
They’d finished shelving ten minutes earlier. Now there was just cleanup.
“Lower parking lot,” Nicks answered. She’d been tasked with dumping all of the smaller waste baskets into the larger one just outside Willow’s office.
She had to admit that asking Stone to help had been a great idea on Willow’s part. They’d gotten done much faster than they would’ve without him. And he’d been nice to her. Just idle chit chat, nothing too deep. Some hearty belly laughs. Even a few moments of flirtatious teasing.
She’d caught him staring at her a few times, but only because she’d been trying to get a good look at him. An odd current seemed to sizzle between them. She thought maybe he felt it too.
It was all very exciting, but talking to him, being around him, still felt strange. As though she’d put her shoes on the wrong feet.
And that was perfectly normal, she guessed. No one would be able to drop a year’s worth of hurt and anger in three-and-a-half hours. An
d her ambiguous feelings were made doubly worse by the fact that she was exhausted and just wanted to go home.
“Would you like me to walk down with you? It’ll be dark out there,” Stone said.
“It’s well-lit. I’ve done it before. I’m not afraid.”
He stopped for a moment and leaned on the broom handle. “I’m parked in the teacher’s parking lot. I can drive you down.”
“It is dark in the lower parking lot, Nicks. Maybe you should take Stone up on his offer,” said Willow.
Nicks glanced between the two of them. Willow was trying to be helpful, but she wasn’t getting in his car with him. No way.
“If I let you walk me down to the parking lot, you’ll have to walk back to your car in the dark. That’s a pretty long trek.” Nicks shot him a look, hoping he’d just drop it.
“I’ll just go move my car to the lower parking lot. I’ll do it right now.”
Nicks held the heavy sigh that threatened. This was going to happen no matter what she said. Seemed like a lot of silly running around to her.
“If you feel like you want to do that, then okay. You can walk me down to my car.”
“I’ll be right back!” Stone dropped the broom handle to the floor and dashed to get his coat and guitar from Willow’s office.
Willow giggled as his footsteps retreated from the library. “I think Mr. Jensen likes you, Nicks. He couldn’t take his eyes off you all night.”
“Yeah.”
“And I can see those warm fuzzies are not reciprocated. Is there some tension on your part?”
Nicks retrieved the broom from the aisle. “Don’t you remember? Stone is the one who said those things about me last year. Called me a guitar-playing pussy.”
Willow’s expression morphed into one of horror. “Oh, my God, Nicks. I’m so sorry! I knew another guitar player had said rude things about you. I just didn’t know it was Stone! I never would’ve asked him to stay tonight if I’d known that.”
“It’s okay. He apologized out in the hallway, just before you asked him to help.”
Willow tilted her head. “And?”
“He seemed sincere. I guess I’m just having trouble with perspective. ‘I’m sorry’ spat at me while I was trapped against a book cart shouldn’t be enough to erase the past year. And yet,” Nicks gestured into the air with both hands, “I can’t help but like him. There’s just something about him, and it’s driving me nuts. I don’t know anyone else I could talk to about guitars and playing and technique. I do believe him when he says he’s sorry, but why did he say all that shit in the first place?” Nicks rolled her eyes. “And did I mention I think he’s gorgeous? How screwed up is that?”
“Come with me, young lady. We need to have a chat.” Willow crooked her finger and beckoned Nicks toward her office.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Nicks said as she closed the door and took a seat in front of Willow’s desk. “I should forgive Stone because he asked. And I don’t disagree with that. I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to have a long talk with myself.”
Willow locked her fingers together and planted her elbows on the desk. “First of all, I’m shocked to hear it was Stone who said those things. He was an exemplary student. Polite and friendly. He served a lot of detentions too, and I was always glad to see him. He’s a computer genius, and a whiz with audio and video equipment. Insulting you seems really out of character based on what I know about him, yet I know he must’ve done it. I remember how mad your mother was at the time. And your father... Holy shit!”
Nicks nodded, wondering where she was going with this.
“People are thoughtless and dumb sometimes. They say the stupidest things in the heat of the moment and regret them later, after they give it some thought.” Willow glanced up at Nicks. “Knowing Stone, I suspect that’s what happened here.”
“I get that, but he didn’t even know me.”
Willow nodded. “Far be it from me to make excuses for him, and I’m not trying to do that now. But you are the prettiest little thing, Nicks. And then you strap on that guitar, and you turn into a ten-foot-tall warrior woman. I imagine you were a shock to Mr. Jensen’s nervous system the first time he saw you. He has no justification for being an idiot, but I’ll tell you, based on what I know about men, that his reaction was understandable to a certain extent. You must’ve come across like a ten on the Richter scale the first time he saw you play.”
Nicks’s cheeks went hot. “I suppose. Still seems like a shitty thing to do.”
“You’re right, but I’ve needed to beg forgiveness more than once for things I’ve said and done. And I’ve had to give it as well. That’s a two-way street, honey. It really takes more courage to forgive than not. When you hold a grudge, it’s like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”
Nicks nodded her head. Yep, this was the perspective she needed. “I see your point.”
Willow gave her a half-smile. “Don’t close the door on Stone. Sometimes the best relationships start out volatile. My husband Randy was a friend of my brother’s and a gigantic pain in my ass. And then one day we looked at each other and said ‘Wow. You’re pretty cute.’ It was all over for both of us after that. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
Nicks laughed.
“You and Stone do have a lot in common. Forgive him and get over it. Talk to him. Get to know him. If he’s the same Stone Jensen who helped me shelve books here, I think you’ll like him, Nicks.”
The silence was awkward as Nicks and Stone descended the steps into the lower parking lot. It seemed as though he wanted to say something but was holding back. She actually felt sorry for him.
God bless Willow. She had the heart of an angel. She always tried to view things through such compassionate eyes.
It had taken some pretty big balls for Stone to make the first move. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who’d toss that back in his face.
“It’s beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?” She watched his expression as he walked beside her. He’d gotten what he wanted, but she made him nervous. “We probably don’t have too many nights like this left.”
“Probably not. Summers are too short in Pennsylvania.”
They’d reached the bottom of the steps and turned toward their cars. A white Chevy Impala was parked right beside her Cobalt.
“Is that your car?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s old and ugly, and it’s got 137,000 miles on it, but it keeps on tickin’.”
“Did you know the Cobalt was mine?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out. It was the only car left in the lower parking lot.”
“You like Chevys?”
“Yep. I’m getting a new one soon. Maybe this weekend.”
“Another Impala?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet.” Stone came to a halt behind her car and turned to her. “I really enjoyed myself tonight, Nicks. It was a pleasure working with you.”
“It was fun, wasn’t it? Even if it was a detention for me. I enjoyed your band stories. Marius can’t stop us from laughing, can he?”
“No, he can’t stop us from laughing.”
There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. She needed to go home so she could study, but...
“I wish it was earlier. We could totally go get a burger or something,” she blurted.
He looked stunned. “Would you want to go get a burger with me?”
“Sure. But not tonight. It’s getting late. I have to go home now.”
“Okay.” He hesitated for a moment. “But I’m going to hold you to that burger.”
“That’s fine.” With one last look, she turned to get in her car. “Goodnight, Stone Jensen. See you next week.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Chelsea shut the book in her lap and glanced up at the grandfather clock in the family room. The filigreed black hands showed 7:15 p.m. Nicks had never been this late from a detention before.
The en
dless detentions were starting to disturb her. Nicks had a foul mouth sometimes, would argue until she was blue in the face, but she’d never been one to deliberately flout the rules. The girl usually knew how far she could push before she or Tage blew a gasket.
The first three years of high school had passed uneventfully, but it had been one thing after another since the first day of her senior year.
At first, she’d been angry with her daughter, despite the girl’s protestations that the principal was targeting her. When she continued to rack up time after school for the pettiest things, she began to get the feeling Nicks was telling the truth.
Albert Marius had taught Chelsea biology at Oakland High after she’d transferred schools from Rochester, New York to Pittsburgh as a junior. He seemed old at the time, but he couldn’t have been more than twenty-three or so, only in his second year of teaching.
Chelsea wasn’t sure what troubled her most about the man. For one thing, his coloring was...off. His eyes were a strange pale gray; his thick eyebrows always reminded her of crows taking flight. Willow told her once she was sure the man had been hastily assembled from several corpses in the basement of a haunted house because the school couldn’t find a decent biology teacher.
It wasn’t just his appearance though. Marius seemed sort of unhinged in a creepy fire-and-brimstone, pseudo-religious kind of way.
He blew hot and cold faster than anyone Chelsea had ever seen. One minute he was friendly, smiling, supportive. The next saw him smashing beakers to the floor, and the students rewriting chapters of the textbook until their hands and fingers cramped.
You never knew what was going to set him off either. Toby Delsole had farted once toward the end of class, sending all of them into paroxysms of laughter. Marius had been furious about the perceived lack of respect in his classroom. He’d turned an unhealthy shade of black-purple; his eyes had bulged out of his skull in a way you only saw in cartoons.
Now he was a principal—had been for the last seven years—and clearly on a power trip.