by Paul, JL
I was sure I could probably get out of the assignment or at least get a new topic, but that would require me explaining exactly why I didn’t want to write about my family. As I already had to endure one night a week talking about them, I didn’t want to have to tell another adult – one that I would have to face five days a week. I’d already experienced the uneasiness other people felt when they discovered what happened. And that uneasiness most times morphed into sympathy. I didn’t want either.
I fretted over the assignment as I settled in my usual seat for Study Hall. As I absently pulled my Spanish book from my bag, opening it to the correct chapter, my mind turned the family assignment over and over in my head. Suddenly, a dark shadow fell across my desk. I groaned as I peered up into Gina’s dark eyes.
“So, you and Fin, huh?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “I thought you weren’t interested in him that way? I knew you were lying but that’s neither here nor there.”
“Oh?” I said, lifting a brow and sliding a false, bored façade on my face. “Bully for you.”
The corners of her mouth lifted as she leaned in closer. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
“What, do you think he’s going to come running after you or something?”
Her smile grew but the darkness in her eyes didn’t lighten. “Possibly, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then spit it out and move on, already,” I said hoping to sound irritated. “I have homework to do.”
She straightened as her lips pulled away from her teeth in an ugly smile. “I’ve heard some things about you – about why you came here. Fin is a good person working hard for a scholarship – he doesn’t need to be mixed up with someone like you. Once he hears this stuff, he’ll drop you like a bad habit.”
“What now?” I asked, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
She shook her head, her hair bouncing off her shoulders. “You should know by now but if you don’t, I’m sure you’ll find out sooner or later.” She waggled a couple fingers at me and trotted off to join her friends.
I maintained a stony exterior but inside, my entire body was like a gelatin mold. What had they heard and more importantly, what did they know?
Chapter Twelve
I tapped my fingers on the scratched up, yellowing countertop, my chin propped in my free hand, one eye flickering back and forth to the clock. Time ticked by slowly as I released frequent little sighs in hopes of coaxing it to move a bit faster.
I did not want to be stuck at work.
My mind continued to toss around the possible rumors that could be floating through the school - rumors I cared more about than I was willing to admit. I'd already been the target of a harmless, though mean and sticky, prank, not to mention the previous stupid little rumor spread about me being a 'second homer'.
"I can handle whatever these small-town idiots want to throw at me," I mumbled under my breath as the little bell above the door tinkled. I straightened, ready to greet my customer, when Damon's somber face appeared.
"Talking to yourself? That's a sign of insanity," he tried to tease.
"Yeah, well, what can I say?" I scooted off my stool and met his gaze. "What's up? Don't tell me you broke your new snowboard."
"Nope," he said, wincing as he pictured that scenario. "Bite your tongue!"
Snorting, I smacked the counter with my palms. "So what gives? Why the long face?"
He exhaled heavily as the scent of bitter cold clung to his down coat and his gloved fists clenched and unclenched. Sympathy flickered in his lovely eyes as he considered me carefully, forming his words. "Rena, dude, I'm asking you this because you're my friend and maybe I'm doing a mini intervention thing or something, I don't know, but I feel like I should do something, right? I mean, sure, I'll party a little bit here or there but I try to keep it to a minimum. My uncle was a drunk and it wasn't pretty."
"Damon, shut up and just tell me what the rambling is all about," I ordered, a mixture of annoyance and trepidation sloshing in my stomach. "What's all the party talk?"
He nibbled his bottom, chapped lip, his eyes still on mine, then released a long breath, his cheeks puffing with the expenditure of air. "Reg called me earlier and told me the latest rumor going around. About you."
I rolled my eyes and plastered a fake, careless grin on my face. "What now? I'm a drunk? Is that what you were all worried about?"
"Well, some chick that works in the administration office during free period told a bunch of people that she saw some file on you that said you were suspended from your old school for drinking on school property."
My stomach plunged to the dirty floor as the anger-demon, who I'd thought had gone into hibernation, yawned and stretched, shaking out its flaccid muscles. I maintained what I hoped was a neutral expression as I lifted a nonchalant shoulder. "Well, that's about the gist of it I suppose."
His jaw fell, his eyes bulging out of his red face. He gaped, sputtering unrecognizable words as I yanked my stool back to the counter and planted my body on it as I waited for him to get himself back under some sort of control. His lips smacked together as he reached up with both hands and straightened the black knit beanie on his head.
"Rena," he gasped, his eyes still dazed. "Wow."
"It's not a big deal," I said as heat flushed my cheeks and my eyes fell to the counter. I picked at a hangnail, resisting the temptation to gnaw the damn thing off and spit it on the floor. "Geez. I went outside at lunch and got busted drinking a couple beers. Not the most intelligent decision of my life, sure, but it could have been worse, you know."
"Whoa," he said, semi-impressed. "People don't do that sort of stuff around here. Oh, sure, they party and drink and dabble with the drugs, but not at school."
Shame filled my heart as I avoided his eyes. I didn't want his hero worship - what I'd done was really stupid and moronic and downright selfish, considering the trouble I had caused. So what if kids around here didn't do it. Good. They shouldn't.
"Anyway, instead of getting expelled, like I should have been, Dunewood agreed to enroll me on a probationary basis. If I screw up one time, I'm out."
"Heavy," Damon said in a low voice. He shook his head, clearing my words from his thoughts. "Everyone at school knows by now - or at least has an idea. They might not know the whole truth and if they don't, they'll make something up."
"I don't care," I snapped even though deep down, in the hidden crevices of my heart, I did care. I'd come here to start fresh, not relive old memories. "People around here are desperate to believe the worst of everyone - especially me. Let them think what they will - I refuse to defend myself."
"Amen, sister," Damon grinned. He rapped his knuckles on the counter twice, readjusted his beanie, and winked. "I'm out of here. I'll see you at school tomorrow."
"Sure," I mumbled as he left again, allowing a blistery gust of cold air into the tiny store in his wake. I shivered as I walked around the counter and began straightening the shelves. I only had a few hours left and I was certain - hopeful actually - that Fin would drop in after practice.
I wasn't disappointed.
About a half hour before my shift ended, as I restocked the dairy cooler, Fin and Isaiah entered the store. My pulse kicked up a notch and even though I was immersed in the arctic temperatures of the cooler, my face heated and sweat collected on the back of my neck. I finished my chore while keeping one eye on the guys browsing the sports drinks.
"Hey," I greeted, my cheeks red. I stood beside them as I pulled off my gloves, not for the first time noticing how tall they both were. "How was practice?"
"Good," Fin said with a distracted frown. "How's things?"
"Okay," I said slowly, drawing out the word. My brow furrowed as I watched his eyes scan the various sports drinks and vitamin waters. Isaiah perused right beside him and I wondered what the problem was - they knew exactly what we stocked.
Yanking a door open, Isaiah chose a bottle with red liquid, gave me a tight smile, and w
andered down one of the aisles. I drew a breath, folding my arms over my chest, as Fin continued to stare at the cooler. Even though he wore a thick winter coat, I could tell his shoulders were bunched up tight, just as tightly as his jaw was clenched and it set my heart into a nervous tizzy.
"All right, Ian Finley," I huffed. "Spill."
He finally glanced down at me, his eyes brimming in uncertainty. He blinked a couple of times before a small, unsteady smile broke out on his lips. "What?"
"You're wound up tighter than a drum. What's the problem? Are you hurt and not able to play or something? Did your next game get canceled? Did someone run over your hockey stick?" I asked in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. He was obviously upset at something and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what would get him so worked up. We hadn't argued all day - not seriously at least - so I doubted it was my fault this time.
"I'm fine, Rena," he said as he reached out to place a hand on my shoulder. "How are you?"
"There is nothing wrong with me," I insisted as a thought struck me like lightning. "Oh. I get it. You heard the rumors, huh? About my raging drinking problem?"
"Yes," he said as the tightness returned to his jaw and anger flickered in his eyes. I was touched.
"Yeah, well, who the hell cares what people around here think about me? I told you the truth and I told Damon when he was in here earlier and that's all that matters," I said as a fit of anger hit me followed by a dose of anxiety. "Um, you do believe me, don't you?"
"Of course I do," he said, his face falling while his other hand cupped my cheek. "You know I do."
My heart lightened as a true smile burst out on my face. "Good. Now get your drink and get the hell out of here so I can get my work done."
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He grabbed a raspberry sports drink in one hand and laced his fingers through mine with the other, jerking me toward the counter. I tried not to think about how comfortable it was having my hand enclosed in his and how heartening it was to have someone willing to go to bat for me should I need it. I didn't, though - I could and would handle things myself. But it was still a nice feeling.
"So, Damon told you what everyone is saying, huh?" he asked as we wound around a display of ice scrapers to where Isaiah waited patiently by the register.
"Yeah, sort of," I said. I wrestled my hand from his to walk behind the counter. "He told me that some girl who works in the office saw a file on me or something. I nearly shudder to think what the rest of the population has dreamed up in their wild imaginations. I'm sure by the time I get to school tomorrow I'll be an alcoholic hopped up on drugs or something equally scandalous. Who knows?" I shrugged and bestowed a quite embarrassed Isaiah with a smile. "I can handle the gossip because I don't really give a damn what people around here think of me."
"Not everyone thinks it," Isaiah said in a soft voice. "Most people know how the gossip mill goes and they don't buy into all the stories."
"Yeah, well," I qualified. "Whatcha going to do? I suppose I could go home and sob in my pillow but I prefer to go to school and force these people to look me in the eye."
A broad grin took charge of Fin's face as he beamed proudly at me. He nudged Isaiah with his shoulder as all tension left both their bodies. "Told you she was made of tough stuff."
I rolled my eyes as I rang up their purchases. They just didn't understand that rumors were nothing - I'd faced much worse in my short time on earth. I could handle high school gossip easily and as far as being made of tough stuff - well, that wasn't exactly by choice. My heart had hardened itself against hurtful things the day after my sister disappeared without so much as a trace.
After I took their money and handed over their change, Isaiah bid us both goodbye and scooted out the door leaving me alone with Fin. Fin smirked as he leaned against the counter, something I couldn't quite identify raging in his eyes. My heart picked up an extra beat or two as I stood, mesmerized by his gaze. A pull - sort of like the magnetic kind - strengthened between us and I rolled to my toes, unmindfully drawing closer. His pupils dilated as he traced my cheek bone before gently touching his lips to mine. My eyes fluttered shut as his sweetness filled my heart. He didn't deepen the kiss, just allowed his lips to linger lightly over mine but it was enough to chase away all the gloom and the rumors and the worries that had clouded my mind for months. I didn't care - I wanted them to go away - far away - and it didn't matter where. Anywhere but here.
Fin grinned as he detached his lips from mine and took a half step back. "Told you we were a couple."
"Sure, whatever you say," I teased.
His grin melted my heart and had the same effect on the rest of my body as his kiss had. I had to clamp my lips together to prevent myself from oozing utterly disgusting words of romance. All I could manage was a stupid, dopey look. But Fin didn't seem to mind.
"Just admit it already. You know you want me to be your boyfriend. You probably dream about it," he teased.
"Don't delude yourself," I said, half in jest. "I don't dream about sweaty hockey players chasing small little disks on an ice rink."
His smirk curled tightly on his lips as the creases in the corners of his eyes deepened. "Now who's delusional?"
I opened my mouth to protest but decided to keep my comments to myself. I enjoyed the banter but he seemed top of his form tonight and I did not want to be bested - I didn't think I could handle his smug, arrogant attitude. Instead, I rolled my eyes and snatched a dust rag from below the counter. As I began wiping down the plastic cases that held scratch-off lottery tickets, I could feel his gaze burning into my back. The crack of a broken seal informed me he'd opened his drink and I pictured him taking a long swig. It was comforting to have him there - maybe a little too comforting - but I wasn't sure I was ready for him to jump headfirst into the boyfriend role. I didn't want him waiting around for me to finish up so he could walk me to my car. Yeah, I did like him - no use denying it- but I needed a little time to process everything.
"Hey," he said softly, almost as though reading my mind. I glanced at him over my shoulder, raising an inquisitive brow. "I need to get out of here so I can study. I'll meet you at your locker in the morning."
"Sure," I said as I turned toward him, dropping the rag on the counter. "See you tomorrow."
He grunted a laugh then tugged on my sleeve, pulling me closer so he could press a quick kiss to my lips. "Be careful driving home. It snowed a little and the roads are a bit slippery."
"Thanks," I muttered as he smiled and slipped out the door.
***
That night, as I snuggled under my comforter, I stared at the dark ceiling, wondering what the next day would bring. I was sure the rumors would be rampant but I'd hold my head up high and ignore them. I reminded myself that I didn't need friends nor did I need the approval of the entire school population. Who cared what everyone thought about me? I sure didn't. At least I liked to think I didn't.
I closed my eyes as I recalled my junior year of high school. I had had tons of friends and had garnered my fair share of male attention. And boy had I bathed in it - drinking it up like it was pricey champagne. I'd been a cheerleader and involved in various clubs. I'd been constantly on the go - meeting friends at the mall or the coffee bar. Girlfriends had gathered in my bedroom, giggling and laughing and comparing notes on people at school. My grades had been fairly decent and I'd been positive I'd be accepted to a good college, although I hadn't quite decided which one I'd wanted to attend. Life had been wonderful - almost fairytale-like.
A tiny ache in my heart caused me to squeeze my eyes tighter. I remembered how my world had come crashing down. Camille had been lost - totally vanished. Instead of girlfriends, cops had poured into my house for hours, talking softly to my parents and questioning me endlessly. Jared had come storming through the door, his hair a wild mess and his eyes panicked and disbelieving.
Things like that just didn't happen in my little suburb and certainly not in my family. It had to
have been some mistake.
But it had happened and eventually, reality had washed away the initial shock, throwing my family into a gloomy, zombie-like stupor. The phone rang constantly from well-wishers and distant relatives calling to convey their sympathy and offer whatever help they could give. But it hadn't mattered. Camille was gone, her whereabouts unknown. What had happened to her was a complete mystery to the police and even the FBI. She hadn't left a single clue.
I flipped to my side and ran my hand under my pillow, my fingers searching until they fell on the hard case of the CD. Withdrawing it, I reached over to my nightstand, shoving the disk into the CD player. I turned the volume on low as the raspy voices of Nick and Joe Jonas serenaded me in the dark. I wasn't a big fan of the brother band, but as my eyes eased shut once more, a tiny smile toyed with my lips. My little sister jumped around in my head, dancing and belting out the lyrics as she swooned over the brothers, berating me for not thinking they were the best thing since the invention of the telephone.
I fought the terrifying images that came to mind; possible scenarios. Mostly, I imagined Camille struggling- kicking and screaming as some stranger forced her into a cargo van that stormy day. Or maybe some neighbor everyone thought they knew coaxing her into his house, out of the rain. Maybe the neighbor was George Wooden whose wife travelled frequently or Travis Schmidt, the confirmed bachelor who lived roughly halfway between our house and Camille's friend's house. Maybe this guy offered her a drink while waiting out the storm. Maybe this drink had some sort of drug in it - like that date rape drug. Maybe this guy - this monster, took my drugged, baby sister into a bedroom or a basement or a musty cellar and did unmentionable things to her. Maybe she had been unconscious during the entire thing. Hopefully.
I sat straight up, my lungs squeezing every ounce of oxygen from my body, my head pounding, my heart fluttering and sputtering like an outboard motor. I scrubbed furiously at my face as I gasped for air, panic shooting through my veins, my body urging me to give in to a full-blown anxiety attack. But I fought it bravely, pushing all thoughts of Camille out of my head. I switched the CD player to radio and let the music enter my bloodstream like a calming drug as I lowered my head back to the pillow. I drew long, deep breaths as my body settled, giving way to exhaustion. I closed my eyes as the music swept me away to a quiet place.