Forever Red

by Carina Adams

  “That’s really all you’re gonna eat?” He eyed my fries and ketchup-mayonnaise mix cautiously.

  Dipping another fry into the tangy deliciousness, I nodded. “Is that really what you are gonna eat?” I asked back, appalled that someone would actually think getting a salad from the cafeteria was a good choice. I couldn’t remember ever seeing another boy eating a salad here. Then again, I couldn’t remember seeing anyone eat a school salad.

  He shook his head. “No. I already ate my pizza. I’ll grab something else later.” He dropped a cucumber in his mouth and chewed noisily.

  Before I could make whatever sarcastic comment I was going to, three girls stopped next to me. I tensed, unsure of what was coming next. “Neil Kelly!” Allyson Jackson, head cheerleader and major bitch, exclaimed in her usual over-exaggerated tone. I rolled my eyes but was sure that Neil didn’t see me because his eyes were glued to Miss Perky. “We haven’t had a chance to meet yet, but I’m Ally and we’re here to rescue you.”

  Neil wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering. “Rescue me?”

  Allyson nodded. “The team sits over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room where there was a table filled with the football players and cheerleaders that had this lunch. Looking down at me with disgust, she added, “You don’t want to sit near the trash.”

  I dropped the fry I was about to eat. She could be talking about the garbage cans that were next to us, but I knew that she meant me. There was no point in taking the bait, though. I didn’t need a suspension on my record and I’d already gotten my warning this year. One more altercation and I would be out of school for three days. It would probably be better if Neil didn’t sit with me. He was a distraction; I hadn’t thought about how to get Mr. Matthews into my bed once since Neil had walked into class.

  “Ah.” Neil turned slightly, nodding his head in acknowledgment to someone at the jock table. “But, I’m not on the team.”

  Ally bounced on the balls of her feet. “But you will be!”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m good here. Thanks, though.”

  Ally’s expression was one of shock and anger before she caught herself and offered him a fake smile. “Okay. Well, hopefully, we’ll see you at practice.”

  He waited until she was out of earshot before he asked, “Friends of yours, huh?”

  “The best!”

  “Why does she hate you?”

  “My lack of school spirit. I wore jeans on pajama day and black on green and white day.”

  He chuckled a deep, sexy sound that made my stomach tighten. “You’re funny, Red.”

  “Okay.” I sat up a little straighter and grabbed one of my curls. “This is auburn. Not red. Auburn.” I said the word slowly, just in case he missed it the first time. “Big difference.” I dropped my hair and picked up another fry. “And, it’s Cecelia.”

  He took the last bite of his greens and tossed the takeout container toward the trash bin, surprisingly making the shot. “So, Auburn, why Lia? Why not CeCe?”

  “My mom hates nicknames. She was afraid people would call me Sissy so she insisted everyone use the whole name. But Julie couldn’t say it, so she called me Elia. Lia stuck.”

  “Julie’s your sister?”

  I swallowed my fry almost whole. It had been a long time since I’d had to explain Jules. Our community was so small that everyone knew us, or our parents. It was nice to have some mystery. “Best friend. She’s in our American Studies class.” Then I added, “I’m an only child.”

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded so sincere as if me not having siblings was the worst thing in the world. “I’m not. Two sisters and a brother. Nikki is two years older than I am. She’s a freshman at AU. That girl has more horse sense than the rest of my family combined. And then there’s Noah and Natalie, the heathens who like to rile everyone up somethin’ fierce.”

  No one had ever accused me of being quiet. In fact, usually if I was, it was cause to worry because I was either sick or planning something. For once, though, I was happy to sit and listen. Neil’s voice was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard, even if I could only understand half of what he was actually saying. He had this loyalty to his family and loved ones that wasn’t common in kids our age, and as he told me about them, he lit up. Two hours ago, I would have told you he was the strong, silent type, but, in reality, the boy liked to talk more than I did.

  The bell rang and we walked back to class slowly, chatting all the way. I did my best to ignore the nasty looks cast in our direction, and he seemed oblivious to them, putting me at ease. The rest of class flew by. Every time I looked up, Neil was watching me and grinning. I’m not sure when it happened, but I started smiling back.

  Chapter Four

  ~ Nathaniel ~

  I was disappointed that Lia and I didn’t have fourth period together. Not only did she make me laugh, but it was also nice to know someone in a room full of strangers. But she had a study hall, back in Mr. Matthews’ room, and I had Drawing II. She was nice enough to show me where the art room was, though, assuring me that Mr. Matthews wouldn’t care if she were late. She walked me to the door, said a quick goodbye, and turned to leave when I stopped her.

  “You drive, Red?”

  “Auburn,” she insisted with a small smile. “No. I have my license but no car yet. You?”

  “Pickup. My parents let me drive it up here when we moved, but I think that’s only ‘cause they needed it to haul their shit.”

  She shook her head slightly. “Of course you do.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, leaned against the wall, cocked an eyebrow, and waited for an explanation.

  She gave me an exasperated look. “‘Cause a country boy like you wouldn’t be caught dead in a car, right?”

  “Country boy like me?” I asked, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice. “I can swear to you that there is no other boy like me – country or otherwise,” I vowed and she rolled her eyes. “Hate to break it to ya, but my first car was an ugly little two-door Ford Escort, hatchback and all.” I fought a smile as her mouth fell open.

  Realizing she was gaping at me, she snapped it closed and let her eyes move down my body. “How in the hell did you fit?”

  The bell rang before I could answer and she started to move away. “So, if you don’t drive, do you walk or ride the bus?”

  She paused, turning back to me, nose wrinkled in confusion. “I’m the loser that still takes the bus. Why?”

  “Well, since you’re my only friend here, I was hoping you’d show me around tonight. Let me drive you home?”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it and stared at me intently as if she were pondering the solution for world peace. Then her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you have practice?”

  The hallway had gotten eerily quiet and her question almost echoed off the lockers that surrounded us. “Mr. Matthews wants me there, yeah. Never said I was goin’.”

  Lia glanced down the hallway as if looking for someone and then stepped closer to me. “Listen,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “I don’t know what it was like at your old school, but here? If you can play the stupid sport, you should.”

  She was so short I had to bend my neck to look down at her. “Oh, I can play the sport. I can play it better than half your team. But I’d rather hang with you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  The question threw me off. Usually, girls begged me to pay attention to them, not the other way around. I didn’t know how to explain why, but after spending just ten minutes with her, I knew I liked being around her and wanted more.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly defensive. “Ditching practice to hang out with me is social suicide. Why in the hell would you want to do that?”

  I shrugged. “You make me laugh.”

  “And that’s the only reason?” The cold, suspicious tone of her voice surprised me.

  Giving her my best smile, I nodded. “Well, that and I don’t kn
ow anyone else yet.”

  “Whatever. It’s your funeral.” She backed up a few steps, still looking at me. “I’ll meet you…” Trailing off, she looked around the hallway again. “I guess I’ll meet you here?” She offered me a small smile, turned, and hurried away.

  My art teacher didn’t seem to care that I’d been late. In fact, the entire period was self-directed, and since I didn’t have my sketchpad, she told me I could use the time to catch up on my homework from other classes. I tried to look over the algebra problems, but my mind kept wandering back to Red. After a few minutes, I gave up, pulled out my notebook, and worked on lyrics.

  I hadn’t been able to write since Gramps had gotten sick last year. I hadn’t done a lot of things I used to do since he got sick, but writing was the thing I missed the most. As the words flowed across the paper, I felt more like me than I had in a long time.

  After I’d given up all my favorite hobbies, Mom had been worried and asked me to stay home one weekend so she could talk to me about our family’s history with depression. I knew all about it, though. They all thought they’d hidden Aunt Jackie’s secrets so well, but Nikki and I weren’t idiots. We’d seen the scars from the cuts on her arms and had seen my dad or Gramps get her medicine out of a locked cabinet more than once.

  I wasn’t depressed. I was sad. There was a big fucking difference.

  I hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to my favorite person in the world. He’d taught me how to a ride a horse, drop a fishing line, play a guitar, throw a football, write a melody, and drive a stick. There wasn’t a single piece of me that he hadn’t had some part in creating. Daddy was what Gramps called “citified.” He may have been raised on the farm, but he craved the bright lights and constant flow that only big cities had. He loved my mother more than anything, though, and when it was time to give up his Boston life and move back home to Alabama, he brought his Yankee girl with him.

  Daddy hated the farm with a passion, deciding to take a teaching job at Auburn instead of taking over his dad’s business. Mom would send Nikki and me out to visit with Gramps whenever she could because she believed that whatever problem the two men had didn’t involve us kids. The best memories of my life took place on those few thousand acres. It will always be my favorite place on earth.

  When Gramps got sick, I begged my parents to let me drop out of school and go take care of him. They had said no, telling me that no teenager should watch someone they love fade into oblivion. I started skipping school, driving up to see him as often as I could. As he wasted away, my life did too. I stopped writing songs. I didn’t study anymore, and my perfect 4.0 dropped like the ball on New Year’s. I broke up with April, even though we’d been together for years. I was too sad to be me anymore. When Gramps said his final goodbye, I didn’t want to do anything but sit out back on his tractor and stare at the barn, reliving all the great memories we’d had in that yard.

  I was surprised, and more than a little pissed, when Daddy announced not long after that some state university up north had hired him and that he was moving that weekend. The plan was that he’d find us a house and the rest of us would follow later. Mom insisted that we needed to get away, that it would do us all good after losing Gramps. Grammy Clarkson, Mom’s mom, was always trying to get us to come visit her, so Mom claimed it worked out well for everyone.

  Except for me. Not only were they making me leave my team and my friends at the beginning of junior year, but they were also making me leave everyone else I loved. Gramps was gone, but every memory of him was in Alabama. Nikki was there, a college freshman that couldn’t transfer in the middle of her first semester. She might’ve been a little older, but she had never been the overbearing big sister. She was my best friend. My home was down there, and I couldn’t wait to get back.

  It had been months since I’d even attempted to write anything. Something was blocking me and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t put pen to paper and make any sense. But as the final bell of the day rang, I looked down at my notebook and saw a completed song. Rereading it, I was impressed with myself. It wasn’t half-bad, especially considering all the time that had gone by since the last time I wrote any lyrics. I didn’t have time to think about why my creative juices had started to flow again, I had a date with a hot redhead.

  The thought made me grin.

  Chapter Five

  ~ Cecelia ~

  For most people, study halls have a way of speeding by. For me, they’ve usually gone painfully slow. Yeah, I spent the time pretending to study or read while I’m really going over every possible scenario that might help me get my mark into bed. Lately, I’ve been staring at Mr. Matthews, waiting for him to look up so I can quickly glance away. But the time has always practically stood still. Before today, I could almost hear the clock on the wall ticking the seconds by until I had to go back to the trailerhood. Home sweet confining home.

  Today was different. I got to class late, offered a pathetic excuse to Mr. Matthews, and sat down in the first empty desk I could find, pulling out my history book. Then, five minutes later, the bell rang. The clock told me I’d been staring at the same page for over an hour, and I couldn’t even begin to remember what in the hell the chapter was about. A throat clearing startled me, yanking me back into the present. The room was empty except for the two of us.

  “I have practice tonight, Lia. But if you’re still having trouble with that essay, we could meet afterward. Say eight-ish?”

  I looked up into a face that just a few hours ago I would have sworn was the hottest one in the school and felt nothing. No increased heartbeat, no desire pooling between my legs, no urge to rip off his shirt and see if he was really as built as he looked. Shit! Maybe I was coming down with something. Or maybe I was over it.

  “I do need help, Mr. M. But isn’t the school locked up by then?”

  Sitting on top of the desk next to mine, he gave me a smile I knew all too well. We called it the “Indiana Jones Look.” It was the same goofy grin that Indy got every time he thought he was going to claim the forbidden treasure. Right now, I was the Holy Grail.

  “It is, but I was thinking you could come by my place. It’s not that far from here, and we’d have enough privacy and time to…” He paused, and I had to look away to keep him from seeing the look of disgust I was sure was all over my face. “…Get it right.”

  I swallowed, running through the options quickly. I could blow off the new kid, go home on the bus, and then sneak out tonight, finally winning the hand I’d been working on for weeks. It would be nice to get the thousand points. Or, I could enjoy the anonymity and, for a few hours, just be regular old me with the new kid before he started blowing me off.

  Standing up, I threw my backpack over my shoulder and hugged my textbook to my chest. “I can’t tonight, I’m sorry.”

  Mr. M. looked surprised. “Another time then?”

  I didn’t answer as I rushed out of the room, feeling his eyes on my back. I chastised myself on the way across the school, telling myself to go back and ask Mr. M. if he was still up for it. I’d never given up on one challenge for another, and I had never walked away when I was so close to winning. I picked up my pace, wanting to get to the art room as fast as possible. Just for one afternoon, I wanted to spend time with someone who didn’t have a preconceived idea of who I was, and who apparently wanted to spend time with me for normal reasons.

  When I got to the room, I was relieved to see Neil was still there. I stood in the doorway, watching him stick out his tongue a little as he concentrated on the paper in front of him. It was almost comical to see someone his size folded into a tiny chair and huddled over the even smaller desktop.

  He looked up then, smiling when he saw me staring at him. “Hey. I thought you’d forgotten me.”

  I shook my head and adjusted the bag. “Nope. Just got stuck. Sorry I’m late.”

  He stood – somehow easing himself out of the restrictive desk without a problem – shoved his books in his bag, and in two la
rge strides was at the door. He smiled, holding out his hand in an “after you, my dear” motion, and I knew instantly that I’d made the right choice. Sooner or later, he’d be the big man on campus, and he’d make a point not to be seen with me. But today, he was all mine.

  On the way to the parking lot, we talked about art. He loved to draw, paint, and sculpt, and his parents encouraged his talent, apparently showcasing his masterpieces all over their homes and offices. He planned to go to art school, focusing on animation in the hopes of working for Disney someday, but would teach the craft if that plan fell through. When he opened the passenger door to an older model F-150, I stepped into the cab and sat. I couldn’t stop my giggles when he started the truck and Eminem’s voice came blaring through the speakers. He so didn’t look like someone that would listen to Slim Shady.

  “What about you?” he asked, buckling up and turning down his music before backing out of his space. “What are your plans?”

  “To get the hell out of here.”

  He nodded as if he understood completely.

  “To be honest, I don’t care where I go or what school I end up at, as long as it is far away and I never have to come back.”

  He stopped at the end of the road and looked at me for a few seconds before pulling out onto the main road. “Have you lived here all your life?”

  “Yeah.” I sighed, watching groups of my peers walk toward the local burger joint. “And I’ve hated it for as long as I can remember.” Neither one of us said anything for a few minutes, the silence comforting in a way. I stared at my hands, picking at my fingernails nervously. When I heard the turn signal start to click, I looked up. “Um, where are we going?”

  He smiled over at me sheepishly. “I have to go let my dog out. She’s been stuck inside all day. But then I’m yours and we can go wherever you want.”

  I couldn’t say more than a simple, “oh, cool.” When he made another right turn, I started to get a little nervous. He was heading into the historic district, the place with giant homes and residents that had more money than God. I loved walking through this section of town, pretending that I was lucky enough to own one of the homes, and making up stories about the original inhabitants. I wondered briefly if he lived on the other side of the mountain and was just cutting through because his truck didn’t really scream “rich kid” to me.