Thanks a lot, jerk.
And it’s not like he has room to talk. At least I’m not the one dressed head-to-toe in black leather on an 80-degree day.
Not willing to give him more than a glance over my shoulder, I pull my mouth into a tight line. “What is it? I’m kind of in a hurry.” The kids, minus Duke, are still on the move toward the fountain.
Angus strides up to me in a handful of jingling steps. Even though he sports a beer belly and his leather pants appear to be cutting off the circulation to the lower half of his body, his agility still trumps mine. I shrink back a step. I’d back up more than that, but Duke moves forward and braces himself at my right shoulder.
“Angus, she’s not a freak. You apologize to her right now,” Duke says through gritted teeth.
My eyes flit toward Duke in surprise, but I don’t dare take my focus from the biker. The man chuckles and curls his fingers into a fist, the leather of his gloves creaking.
I reach back for Duke, and when I connect with his hand, I squeeze. Hard. “It’s okay,” I say, forcing the corners of my mouth upward even though smiling’s the last thing I want to do. Duke’s fingers tremble in mine for a moment then reluctantly return my squeeze.
Angus’ beady eyes narrow, not missing the communication between us. “Cut that out,” he spits, motioning wildly at our entwined hands. “I know what you’re doing.”
Truth is, I don’t even know what I’m doing. Maybe Angus can fill me in.
Ask him, I dare you.
A small crowd has formed around us, attracted like moths to a flame by the boom of Angus’ words. Some of the faces I recognize from the diner. Some are strangers. Each of them wears different shades of similar expressions, ranging from suspicion to flat-out hatred. The little old lady previously wandering down the street oscillates between pity and confusion. Sal, the burly Italian from the diner, towers over everyone. His upper lip curls over his teeth in a sneer that shoots ice through my veins.
“I—I don’t know what you’re—” My palm turns clammy in Duke’s grasp.
Duke, still holding on tight, places himself between me and most of the angry throng. “Leave her alone.” His voice is steady, but his pulse races against my skin.
“Duke,” I murmur. “It’s okay. I can handle this.”
My words don’t put him at ease.
“I’m taking the kids to see the fountain, that’s all,” I say, even though I don’t owe them an explanation.
“Over my dead body. You ain’t takin’ those kids nowhere,” Angus snarls, lunging forward. Several in the crowd chuckle, an unexpected response to his threat, and I skim the crowd trying to figure out what’s so funny. Taking my eyes off the boulder of a man advancing on me is a big mistake.
Duke hadn’t been thrown off, though, and he shields me from the brunt of the attack. They both grunt as they collide and fall to the concrete with a sickening thud. No one moves, frozen in horror at Angus on top of the young boy, his gloved fist drawn back like a cobra ready to strike.
Trapped beneath Angus’ legs, Duke lies still, his eyes rolled back in his head.
Chapter 10
I don’t know how long I scream before the townspeople turn from broken Duke back to me. Any waver of kindness they’d felt before is long gone. Their piercing eyes blame me for what happened to Duke. I blame me, too.
“Duke? Duke!” I crumple next to his limp body. “Can you hear me?” Tears spill from my eyes as I bury my face in the tuft of hair sticking out above his ear. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”
The boy doesn’t stir.
Someone else I cared for is dead. I’m cursed, I can see that now. Swallowing hard, I raise myself up until Angus and I are nearly eye-to-eye.
“You all can do with me what you want. I don’t want to live anymore if all I do is hurt people.” My lip quivers, betraying my resolve, but I’m on their side. My existence ended Duke’s life. Whatever fate these people have planned for me can’t undo that, but at least it will keep it from happening again.
Angus jeers, but I’m not afraid of him anymore. I’m not afraid of anyone or anything anymore. I’m numb.
I run my thumb over the smooth skin of Duke’s cheek, trying to memorize the peacefulness of his face before I leave him.
“Sal,” Angus grunts. With some difficulty and a great deal of squeaking leather, he hoists himself up from the boy’s frail body, “the girl’s surrendering. Get the—”
Before he can finish, a great clattering crescendos from an alley to my back.
“Lucy!”
This time I recognize Oliver’s voice before I see him. I struggle to stand, whirling just in time for Oliver to gallop by on Jasper. With a free arm, he hooks me around my waist and sweeps me from the sidewalk. It looks so easy when they do it in the movies. In real life, it’s terrifying, and I almost black out from the stab of my disjointed ribs. As I dangle under Oliver’s arm, Jasper’s hind legs tangle with mine. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I claw my way onto his back, behind Oliver.
When I finally feel secure—or as secure as I’m going to get—I risk a glance back to the people gathered around Duke’s body on the street. Frustration twists their faces, but not Sal and Angus. They look like they would rip me apart with their bare hands if given the chance. Even though I want to be free of this life, relief floods over me as we distance ourselves from the crowd.
I lean forward to shout in his ear, “What in the heck are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Oliver urges Jasper forward with his heels. “I’m being the knight in shining armor.”
“You saved the wrong person,” I say so quietly I’m sure Jasper’s hoofbeats cover my words.
“No, I didn’t.”
How can Oliver suggest my life means more than Duke’s? My life is nothing—less than nothing. Duke, at least, had never felt the pain of watching his family die at his own hands. He hadn’t needed a second chance at life because he’d still been doing okay with his first.
Even though I’m upset with Oliver for rescuing me instead, I wrap my arms tighter around his middle and hide my face against his shoulder. My tears soak into the coarse threads of Oliver’s linen shirt, the circle of moisture growing with each drop. He won’t care; if I needed it, he would take the shirt off his back and let me use it as a handkerchief—that’s the kind of guy he is. He’s nothing like me.
“How could you be so selfish?” Unspoken pain fills Mom’s eyes.
I swing the car around the corner faster than I should have, and Dad has to brace himself against the side of the car to keep from falling over. “How could I be so selfish?” I ask, unsure I’d heard her correctly. “That’s all you can say? Real nice, Mom.”
The sooner we eat dinner and get back home, the better, because I don’t think I can sit in this car one second longer than necessary. Not with all their judgment and—grrrrr!
The light far ahead of us shines green, and I breathe a ‘thank you’ to God for shaving some time off our commute. Pressing my foot down on the gas pedal, we race toward the intersection.
Jasper slows to a walk once Oliver figures we’re out of immediate danger. It’s quiet here, wherever we are, except for the rhythmic groan of Jasper’s saddle with each step. When I lift my head from Oliver’s shirt, the forest crowds in around us. The low boughs of the trees shield us from sight and muffle our movements with a carpet of dried pine needles. A short way off to our right, a flat ribbon of cement stretches endlessly in both directions. I’m anxious someone driving by will discover us, but I shouldn’t be. Not one vehicle passes us.
The air is silent. Waiting. It seems foolish to speak, to confirm our location to anyone tracking us, so I lean forward until my lips almost brush Oliver’s earlobes. “Where are we going?” I whisper.
Oliver pauses and glances over his shoulder at me before he answers. It’s like he’s taking a picture, preserving this moment in his mind because . . . because why? A shift of the
wind fans the hair from his eyes as I search them for the answer. His ghost of a smile fails to disguise the sadness I find there.
Why does this feel like good-bye? I hate this place, but I hate the thought of Oliver dumping me in the middle of the forest like a wild animal even more.
“You wanted to talk, so we’re going to talk,” he says finally, straightening up and turning his attention to our path.
“It’s about time, just sayin’.”
“Yeah, well, if you want a prayer of surviving here, I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I? It’s not like I can guard you twenty-four-seven.” Oliver rubs his forehead with his palm. Clearly, I’m a pain in the butt. That’s something we have in common.
“So go right ahead. I’m listening.”
“Relax, Lucy. We’re almost there.”
Everything around us appears the same as it had a mile back, and the mile before that. The same evergreens with prickles running up and down their spines. The same expanse of silver pavement, vacant and still. The same whistle of wind playing a soft duet to the horse’s footfalls. We could have been walking in circles, for all I know.
Beneath me, Jasper’s muscles begin to shiver. His easy, flowing gait shortens until he feels coiled up like a spring ready to bound off. Without warning, the gelding shies sideways, snaking his head around in the direction we’d come. Though my arms still encircle Oliver’s middle, my seat slides sideways at the swift change of direction. For one awful second our eyes meet, mine and Jasper’s, and his terror reflects back to me. I know that look too well, except the last time I experienced it, I’d been staring down death disguised as an 18-wheeler.
“Easy, boy.” Oliver places a reassuring hand on the horse’s trembling shoulder.
“Oliver!” I cry, clawing at his stomach to keep my balance. “I’m falling!”
With some effort, Oliver pries loose from my grip and swings his left leg over the front of his saddle. Freeing himself from Jasper, he drops to his feet, cushioned by the spongy earth. Jasper’s head flies upward, startled, until he realizes his only remaining rider—me—has zero control over the situation. He flattens his neck out and accelerates like he’s just cleared the starting gate of the Kentucky Derby.
I topple sideways off Jasper as he shoots forward in blind panic. Big surprise there. Next would come the impact, the sickening crunch of more of my bones against the ground. Maybe this time I wouldn’t break anything, but that’s not my kind of luck. My body has been disintegrating into increasingly smaller pieces ever since the wreck. I’ve become brittle and delicate, always one wrong step away from crumbling into a pile of unrecognizable rubble.
Head-first, I hurtle towards the soil. There’s no time to fear what will happen to my brain when the scaffolding holding the mosaic of my skull together gives way. I’m not afraid to die, to blink and then pass from this life to whatever happens next. My parents wait for me there, ready to scoop me into their arms, our family complete once more. I close my eyes and smile, welcoming the end.
Of course, Oliver catches me. Cradled in his arms, his heart thunders against my cheek. I force myself to swallow, to push down the annoying rush of relief at his rescue and the swirl in my stomach stirred up by his embrace. I don’t want to be here. No matter how my own flesh tries to argue against my feelings, I am ticked off to still be alive. As soon as he rests my toes on the ground and lets me go, I haul back with my best right hook and catch him in the nose.
“What the—” he cries, clasping his hands to his face. A trickle of crimson runs through his fingers and seeps into the cuff of his linen shirt. His hands hide most of his face, but the hurt in his dark eyes is unmistakable. “What’d you do that for?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I spin on my heel and stalk off in the opposite direction from Oliver, Jasper, and Mitte. There’s nothing else around but trees stretching as far as I can see. The breeze presses against me and slows my angry progress.
All this time, the fragrance of the forest had been damp and tangy. But now there’s something else, something sharp and sulfuric. Smoke. Someone lives out here, or maybe a wildfire blazes in the distance. Either I can find shelter with this stranger in the woods, or I’ll burn to ashes curled against the charred trunk of a pine. It doesn’t matter anymore. Fueled by my lame new plan, I forge into the twisted overgrowth of vines ahead.
“Stop,” Oliver says, closer to me than I expect.
I want to punch him again for following me. I want to punch him just to punch something because my lack of speed frustrates me. Before everything fell apart, I’d have left him in a cloud of dust, putting miles between us before my heart had a chance to react. Running effortlessly, another thing I’d lost to the crash. I turn to spit in Oliver’s general vicinity, but I continue limping forward.
“Lucy, you’ve got to listen to me.” He grasps my elbow from behind. “Stop, now.”
I wrench free from his grip. “Let go of me.” The words hiss through my teeth. “You’re just as crazy as the rest of them, you know that?”
“If you keep walking, I can’t save you from what happens next.”
“Good. Don’t bother.” My bitter laugh rings through the small distance between us. I want him to give up, to make this easy on both of us.
When he shuffles one more step behind me, I whirl around with my hands balled at my side. “Why won’t you leave me alone?” I say.
“Your name—Lucille—” My eyes narrow when he uses my full name. “It means ‘light.’”
I cross my arms, annoyed by his sudden need for pointless trivia. “So?”
“So . . . I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
I snort. “Quit being so creepy, Oliver.”
“I promise I’m not trying to scare you. But you’re different from the others.”
My eyes roll toward the canopy of feathery boughs overhead. Pick-up lines at a time like this? “I’m different? Give me one reason why I’m so special because, personally, I think you’re full of it.”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, choosing his words carefully.
“Forget I asked,” I sigh. Desperate to put space between us, I hobble in the direction Oliver doesn’t want me to go. Tension vibrates in the air between us, but I don’t care anymore.
“Wait,” he cries, his voice desperate. “You’re not like anyone else . . . because you’re not dead.”
Chapter 11
A wall slams down inside my brain, shielding me from the full impact of Oliver’s words.
“Lucy, say something. Please?”
I can’t answer him, and, after his revelation, I sure can’t trust him. Conversation is definitely out, as is hanging around him for one second more. I’d made a big mistake by feeling anything for anyone in this town—Duke, Magnolia, Oliver, anyone. I set my jaw and wrap myself in numbness. It won’t happen again.
All I want is distance and silence. My only option, then, is to put one foot in front of the other and stumble into the blanket of smoke. I pray Oliver will finally get the hint and stay away. And he does. Before I can decide whether or not that makes me happy, a spark shoots down my spine. Random aches and pains are the norm for me, so I shrug it off.
Being slow as a turtle—even slower than that, sometimes—isn’t my norm. My body’s built to be aerodynamic, thin and sleek. I used to be as light and graceful as a gazelle, my legs bounding me forward with ease. They said I would go places, that I’d have my pick of colleges. Coach lined up recruiters for our biggest meets, and all I had to do was show up and let go. My heart would do the rest.
I miss the wind in my face and the teardrops collecting in the corners of my eyes as everything blurred behind me. I miss the crunch of pebbles beneath my shoes. I miss the tickle of my ponytail grazing the back of my neck with each swaying step. I miss pushing through the burn in my lungs and deep within my legs. Faster, faster, faster. I miss every single shin splint and weeping blister. I miss running so hard the world spins behind my eyes, struggling
to catch up. Heck, I even miss throwing up in the grass because I pushed myself to my limit. Even the worst day on the track pales in comparison to my life now. This isn’t life.
They said I would go places. Somehow, I doubt this is what they meant.
I bite my lip to keep from sobbing as I creep forward. The forest falls silent around me except for the crackle of pine needles under my feet. The air grows so thick and heavy it presses on my chest, forcing me to stop to draw in a deep breath. My throat burns with the effort, and I cough. The fire is near, and so is my rescue.
Ahead, the pines crowd closer together, branches intertwined in protest. Even the forest wants to keep me prisoner. If I want to find an opening large enough to squeeze through, I’ll have to follow this wall of green to the left or right instead of continuing straight ahead. Sideways frustrates me. Sideways won’t get me away from Oliver or Mitte, the two things I want to be free of more than anything.
It’s not one of my brightest ideas, but I grit my teeth and push forward into the arms of the pines. The needles welcome me, sliding across my skin like feathers. The tang of pine tar overpowers the smell of soot and destruction. Spreading apart the tangled branches in front of me, I smile. This isn’t so bad, after all. This plan just might work.
But before I can shoot an Adios, Oliver! over my shoulder, the forest turns against me. Needles prick my lips and tiny beads of blood pop up wherever they make contact with my skin. I yelp as I try to bring my arms up to shield my face, which only makes me more of a human pincushion. No one comes to help me, even though it’s pretty obvious I’m in trouble.
That means Oliver left. He left.
Not even two minutes ago, I had wanted as far away from that boy as humanly possible. Finally something had gone my way, and I can’t even enjoy it. From where I cower, being mauled by flesh-eating vegetation, I curse Oliver for actually listening to me.
If Dad was here, he’d have torn himself in two to protect me. There’s no way he would have let me wander off alone into the wilderness, no matter how much I kicked and screamed. Dad would have kicked and screamed right back at me, and then, when he’d had enough, he would have thrown me over his shoulder and carried me back to safety. I would have hated him every step of the way, as much as I loved him. He knew never to give up on me, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Even Dad has abandoned me.
In the Middle Page 7