Saving Me

by Sadie Allen

  I leaned against the counter at the edge of the kitchen and answered, “I have to go study lines with a friend.” I wiggled the script book in my hand, then set it back down on the marble.

  “What friend?” Mom took her eyes off whatever she was doing on her laptop and peered at me from around the screen. “And where are your crutches?”

  I hesitated, not sure how she would respond. “Sterling Chapman. And I thought I would test my leg out tonight.” I stretched my leg a little then bent my knee just to prove my words.

  “I guess I don’t know him. Where does he live?”

  “Um …” I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I hadn’t really thought about where I was going. “Smith Street?”

  “That area isn’t bad. What does Miles think about you going over to another guy’s house?”

  Oh crap. I had forgotten to tell her about the breakup.

  “Um …” I shifted my weight from my bad side to my good one. I really didn’t want to tell her about Miles.

  “Ally?”

  Of all the times she wanted to get involved in my life.

  “We broke up,” I spat out. Like a Band-Aid, right?

  “What!” she shrieked.

  Uh-oh. That was a code red decibel. Dogs were probably whining in the neighborhood, and I was in trouble.

  “Mom …” I was going to try to stem whatever freak out she was about to have, but I was unsuccessful.

  “What do you mean, you broke up? What happened?” she yelled.

  I sighed. “We decided it wasn’t working. It was a mutual thing.”

  “A mutual thing?” she said incredulously.

  What? Was there an echo?

  “Yes,” I replied slowly, carefully, lest I poke the bear again.

  “Well, wha—”

  “Mom, just trust me.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked the time. I was going to be late if I didn’t get her settled. “Miles is okay, I’m okay, and we’re still friendly.” I wasn’t sure about that last part, but I needed to give her some reassurance. I knew I had failed when tears filled her eyes and she choked on a sob. What on earth? “Mom?”

  “But, he was such a nice guy. He was so good to you.”

  Good to me? Snort.

  “I—”

  “Doesn’t anyone stay together anymore?” she wailed, cutting me off.

  What. On. Earth? Who else broke up?

  A chill ran through me. I wanted to ask her what she meant.

  “Mom—”

  “Don’t pay attention to me.” She sniffled and rolled her eyes upward to wipe the skin underneath them. Thank goodness she invested in expensive cosmetics, because if that were a cheap mascara, it would be all over her face right now. “It’s just hormones. I don’t know why I got all weepy,” she continued with a forced chuckle.

  I still didn’t believe her.

  I looked down at my phone again and saw it was six ten. I was running late.

  “I gotta run, Mom. But maybe, when I get home, we can talk some more, okay?”

  She cleared her throat and replied, “Okay, honey.”

  I tried to smile reassuringly, but I feared I failed. I felt anything but reassured. I felt like the foundation beneath my shoes had suddenly turned to sand and everything was about to crumble under my feet.

  I turned to leave when my mom called, “Take your crutches with you and leave them in the car. You may need them later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I changed direction to get them from my room.

  When I came back out, crutches in hand, she asked, “Do I need to fix you something to eat for when you get home?”

  “No, ma’am. Sterling texted me that they ordered pizza.”

  “Be sure to text me his parents’ number, okay? Just in case of an emergency.”

  I sighed. I was for sure going to be late, but still answered, “Okay, Mom.”

  I hurried to the door and through it, and when I opened my car door and was about to get in, my dad’s shiny black BMW pulled into the circle driveway. Not wanting to see him or have him give me the third degree, I slammed the door shut, cranked the engine, and pulled away.

  He was walking toward the house with eyes on me as I drove by, his expression set to disapproval—his normal one for me. I gave him a little wave, and he stopped, those eyes narrowing on me, likely seeing my bare shoulder. The expression on his face turned murderous.

  I sped my car up and burned rubber to get out of there, checking my rearview mirror to make sure he hadn’t gotten back in his car and was following me. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I prayed. I prayed that the only thing he did was send me an angry text later.

  I had to pull over a little ways from my house because I had forgotten to plug the address into my GPS. Oleander was a smallish town, but I never went exploring, so I didn’t know the ins and outs like most citizens. All my friends lived in the same gated community growing up, Nerium Gardens, and we only left to go to school, church, or shopping in another city.

  It also allowed me to see if my dad had followed me. When five minutes went by with no BMW in sight, I felt my shoulders relax.

  Before I pulled back onto the road, I shot a text to Sterling, letting him know I was on my way and apologizing for being late. Right when I was about to pull back onto the road, my phone lit up with a notification. I glanced down and saw I had a Snapchat from Sterling. I quickly shifted to park and opened the app.

  The picture showed a gas stove burner with a glowing blue flame, and the text across it read, “Is it *flame emoji* in here, or is it just you?”

  A startled giggle slipped past my lips, and I lifted a hand to feel the grin that split my face. When had I ever smiled so much? Certainly not since I had entered high school, maybe not even junior high.

  An unfamiliar warmth filled me up like a water tank filling me full to bursting, and my heart felt so light I thought it would grow wings and fly right out of my chest. I suddenly couldn’t wait another minute to get there and see the boy who was changing my world.

  The GPS took me to the neighborhood that surrounded the elementary school across town. The houses were the crackerbox style that were so common in the South. Most were in good condition with well-kept yards, yet a few were in disrepair and boarded up. Overall, the neighborhood wasn’t bad, just like my mom had said.

  I turned on the street marked Smith, and then, a couple houses in, Siri declared that my destination was on the right.

  Parking at the curb in front, I studied the small, square, red brick house with white shutters and posts that held up the overhang of the front porch. I shut off the engine and leaned forward until the steering wheel dug into my diaphragm. The sun had set, so I couldn’t make out much. Sterling’s primer gray car was in the driveway next to a red vintage truck that gleamed in the porch lighting. I guessed there was no need to search out the house number.

  I inhaled through my nose and blew out a noisy breath, drumming my thumbs nervously along the steering wheel and trying to get my racing heart under control. My mouth was dry, and there was an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I needed to get ahold of myself. There was no reason to be nervous. It wasn’t like we were alone. He had told me his pops would be home.

  I grabbed my script book, opened the car door, and walked carefully up the concrete walk. At the door, I pushed the glowing orange button that rang the bell and waited.

  As footsteps approached from the other side, I sucked in a breath, mentally fortifying myself to seeing Sterling. However, when the door flew open and the air in my lungs escaped in a surprised whoosh, the person who answered the door wasn’t the boy I had expected or was coming to see. It was the boy from auditions, the one who had dragged me up on stage.

  He smiled at me widely and waved his hand with so much exuberance that my surprise melted away. He said something I couldn’t understand, and then moved from the door and swung his arm out wide to invite me inside. I giggled at his gentlemanly gesture and stepped in. His grin
grew, and he looked behind him.

  I followed his eyes and found Sterling leaning against a counter, his arms and ankles crossed, a smirk tilting up one side of his lips. Why did my breath catch every time I saw him? You would think I would be used to his looks by now, but they disarmed me every time.

  “Hey,” I said breathlessly.

  He examined me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. There was appreciation there, but also heat. The kind of heat that made me shiver.

  “Nice sweater,” he said, eyes stuck on my bare shoulder.

  “Thanks.” A blush warmed my cheeks.

  “Where are your crutches?” The heat in his eyes cooled, replaced by concern. As the skin between his brows furrowed, I had the inexplicable urge to massage it away with my fingers.

  “Decided to have a dress rehearsal without them. PT says I can ditch them next week.” My tone was light, and I hoped it relieved his worry.

  “Then, shouldn’t you wait till next week?” His tone was hard, and the corners of his lips had turned down.

  I opened my mouth to argue with him, when someone touched my covered shoulder, making me jump. I turned toward the boy I had yet to be introduced to, who had dark hair like Sterling’s, but his eyes were ocean blue, no brown mixed in. The rest of his features resembled the markers of his genetics. He was speaking again, but I could not find a familiar word.

  “Jack, why don’t you get the plates? Sterling, quit giving her shit,” came a deep, rumbly voice, and I shifted to look where it had come from.

  A large, broad-shouldered man stood at the mouth of the hall. He was dressed in a vintage Grateful Dead tee, not unlike the kind Sterling wore, but his was larger due to his bulging biceps and broader shoulders. His hair was silver and combed to the side, his beard dark with silver streaks, and his eyes were the exact shade of Sterling’s icy blue. He moved toward us, his hand outstretched.

  “Silas Chapman, but you can call me Pops.”

  This was Sterling’s pops? He didn’t look like any pops I had ever seen.

  I clasped his large hand and gave it a firm shake like I had been taught and said, “Allison Everly, but you can call me Ally.”

  He turned his head to look at Sterling from over his shoulder. “She’s a beauty, son. Like this one better than the last one.”

  “Pops,” Sterling growled.

  Pops chuckled. “Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

  Jack started speaking again, and Pops’ eyes went to him and warmed.

  “Yeah, J, let’s go eat, buddy.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder and gave it a shake before they led us to the four-seater dining table where a pizza box sat.

  As I passed Sterling, he came in close, his shoulder brushing mine, and directed me to the closest chair. He pulled it out, and I lowered myself down.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly.

  Jack had gone and come back with plates, proceeding to pass them out. I took mine and nodded my thanks. He smiled a wide smile then sat in the chair next to mine. Sterling took the one to my right, and Pops sat at the one across from me. He flipped the box lid open and grabbed two slices.

  “Don’t be shy, girl,” Pops called, and Jack nodded as he nabbed his own slices.

  Sterling rolled his eyes, but it was good-naturedly, not in real annoyance. He reached in and tore off two pieces, but instead of putting them on his own plate, he deposited them on mine, and then got his own.

  “How was school, guys?”

  Jack answered in Jack-speak, and Sterling mumbled, “Fine,” around a large bite of pizza.

  “How’s the musical?”

  Sterling’s mouth was full, so he tilted his head in my direction, which I took as a hint for me to answer.

  “Good. Just have to figure out a way to get Elodie over her shyness by Monday.”

  “Why Monday?” he asked after he swallowed a scary-large bite of his own pizza.

  I told him about what happened in theater class, and when I mentioned Raven and her actions, his mouth drew into a tight line, and his eyes shot to Sterling.

  “Told you that girl was bad news.”

  Sterling’s eyes were on his plate, his jaw flexing as he muttered, “Not now, Pops.”

  Pops cleared his throat and switched back to the subject. “So, how do you plan to get Elodie over her stage fright?”

  I looked to Sterling, who was gazing back at me, and shrugged. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

  Jack cut in, sounding like he was asking Pops a question. When Pops answered, “Yeah, you can go watch your iPad,” I found I had been right.

  Jack scooted his chair back and was about to scamper off, when Pops said, “Plate.”

  Jack huffed out a breath, but grabbed his plate and took it into the kitchen. Then he hurried past me, and I assumed to the hall where their rooms probably were.

  “I have an idea,” Pops declared.

  I cut my gaze to him and waited.

  “Karaoke.”

  “Karaoke?” Sterling guffawed.

  “Yeah, boy,” Pops shot back with a thread of enthusiasm.

  “Wouldn’t that make it worse?” I asked.

  “I used to be in a band in my younger years.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked, genuinely curious. I looked to Sterling, who looked bored. Evidently, he knew his pops had been in a band.

  “Yeah, I played rhythm guitar. Anyway, we had a great lead singer. Well, he became great. But when he first started singing gigs with us, he sucked.”

  A giggle escaped, and a small smile played at Pops’ lips.

  “He was stiff as a board and looked like he would piss himself any minute anytime we got on stage.”

  “So, you took him to karaoke?”

  “Yep.”

  “How did it help him, though?”

  “No clue. Maybe it just relaxed him. Lots of people getting up, singing whether they could or not, people cheering them on. I don’t know. I just know it did the trick.”

  “That’s great,” Sterling cut in, “but how is that going to help us? There aren’t any karaoke bars here, and we’re all underaged.”

  “Let me think on it tonight and see if I can figure out a way around that.”

  “I’d really appreciate it … Pops.”

  When Pops smiled, it became apparent where Sterling had inherited his stunning one from. Pops was hot for an old guy, which meant many good things for Sterling’s future.

  We finished up eating our food. Pops and Sterling talked about cars and the auto shop Pops owned in town. I was happy to just sit there and listen. I loved how Pops didn’t discount any of Sterling’s ideas or opinions. He listened, and I mean, he really listened. The total opposite of my father, who never listened, and if he did, he disregarded anything I had to say.

  I wondered where Sterling’s parents were for the millionth time. Was Jack his brother? Did he and Jack live with Pops? I knew he worked for him, but was it more?

  “Welp, y’all should probably get to it.”

  Pops got up from the table, plate in hand, and reached in Sterling’s direction. Sterling grabbed my empty plate and his then handed them to his grandfather.

  “I’ll be in the garage working. Y’all stay in here or the living room. No bedrooms. I’m not ready to set up a crib in your room yet, boy.”

  A strangled sound came from Sterling, and I knew my face was blood red.

  Pops smirked as he strode into the kitchen.

  “Sorry about that,” Sterling said in a gruff voice.

  I cleared my throat before I replied, “No problem.”

  Pops came out of the kitchen, and as he passed the table, he shot us a wink. As Sterling groaned, Pops then ambled through the living room and out the door.

  “So …” I drawled after I heard the door close, “we should probably start working through the script.” I pulled my book closer to me from where I had lain it on the corner of the table. Then I looked to Sterling, who hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you going to go g
et your script?”

  “Don’t need it.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t need it? How are we going to work on our lines if you don’t know them?”

  “I know them.”

  What? How did he know them already?

  “I have an eidetic memory, princess.”

  My eyes rounded as I searched the depths of my memory for that definition, not wanting to ask because I didn’t want him to think I was stupid.

  “I basically remember everything I read, even if it’s just once. A photographic memory.”

  Whoa. How lucky was he? But wait …

  “If you can do that, why aren’t you, like, the top of the class? You should be up for valedictorian next year,” I said incredulously.

  He chuckled. “See, I’d have to actually read the material to ace the tests and assignments.”

  My mouth dropped open. Why wasn’t he taking advantage of his skill? Maybe he really did have mutant genes.

  “I just don’t—”

  “Princess, I’m in the top ten. I just don’t have any interest in making speeches or having my picture in the newspaper.”

  “You’re ahead of me?” I asked in surprise. He had to be because I was at the bottom of that totem pole.

  He smirked then shrugged.

  How had I not known this? Why wasn’t he in any of my advanced placement classes? It just didn’t make any sense. Sterling basically was the theater department.

  “But, you’re in theater?” I felt my brows drop and my mouth screw up.

  “Yep.”

  “That makes no sense,” I stated.

  “How about this, then? I just don’t want the extra work. I have theater and my job at the shop. I’d like to have a life somewhere in there.”

  My face relaxed. I could sympathize with that. I hadn’t ever had a life outside of school and track. Yeah, I’d had a boyfriend and friends, but those relationships had felt like work. They were no different and certainly weren’t any fun.

  “That I can understand. I haven’t had much of a life lately or, well, ever.”

  When his eyes turned sympathetic, my gut twisted. I didn’t want pity. Not from him.

  I dropped my eyes to the worn oak wood of the table and tried to control my breathing. I wanted to run, to flee. I couldn’t stand the thought of him feeling sorry for me. It made me sick to my stomach.