by Ruth Houston
"What's up with him calling you 'babe' then?" I asked, still not convinced.
She shrugged. "That's just Martin," was all she said in explanation. "Great job in jumping all over his back," she said crossly.
I gaped at her. "What is this?" I asked the ceiling in disbelief. I returned my gaze to her. "Apparently, you weren't paying attention when we were introduced. In case you missed it, he was the one who started it," I scowled, knowing I sounded a tad bit childish but not really caring.
Winter let out a frustrated, strangled, muffled scream into her hands, and turned around for a moment to compose herself.
"Okay," she said when she turned back around, her face slightly flushed and a dangerous spark still in her eye. Her voice was deceptively calm. "What was it that you wanted to say before I interrupted you with that introduction?"
"I – nothing," I said, surprising even myself. "Nothing at all. Nothing important. It's all good, you know. I wanted to apologize for yesterday, but I guess it's too much for a guy to ask for just a second to apologize for something without having someone jump down his throat. You know what," I said, "Forget it. I'll see you later."
I stalked away (not stormed; that would have definitely been crossing into childish areas, and besides, Zackary Crowne does not storm, he stalks), regretting a little that it hadn't gone the way I had wanted it to, and that Winter didn't seem to have wanted to give me a chance. The rest of the day passed uneventfully; I saw neither Winter nor Martin again, which made me both relieved and a little peeved – I wanted to see Winter again, but didn't know if I'd have the wits to apologize, and I wanted to meet Martin again to punch his lights out, but knew he could probably beat me to a pulp easily.
The second I pulled into my house's driveway, I noticed that my parents' car wasn't in. They were probably out shopping or whatnot. So I went inside and did the only the thing I could – I opened up my grand piano, adjusted the bench, sat down, and played.
I hadn't played in three or four years or so. Since my parents had stopped making me take lessons when I was in middle school, I had given it up. My piano was still in tune though – Victoria made a point of having it tuned every year. I was surprised at how easily it came back to me. I had studied with a Japanese lady, and I realized that I missed it more than I had thought. Piano had been fun, when I had taken it. The other instruments weren't as interesting, but with piano… there was something about it that always caught my attention. There was a feeling of infinite possibilities that came with the instrument.
I don't know how long I sat there, just playing whatever came to mind – I found that in particular a lot of Chopin's stuff came back to me that afternoon. A nocturne here, a waltz there, even a polonaise or two. I was halfway through his soulful Nocturne in c# minor when I felt someone slide onto the bench next to me.
It was Winter. She studied my hands as I finished up the piece, occasionally glancing at my face to see my expression. When I finished I turned to her, opening my mouth to apologize, but she brought a finger up to my lips, shushing me.
"I'm sorry," she said, her touch on my lips sending a raw shiver through my body. I closed for eyes for a second and had to remind myself to breathe. "You were trying to apologize. And you were right – I completely jumped down your throat for no apparent reason. I'm sorry. It wasn't fair of me." She removed her finger and instantly I missed her touch. I grabbed her hand and brushed my lips over the back of it gently, my gaze never leaving her dark chocolate eyes. Only she would come all the way out here to apologize for something that she didn't need to be sorry for.
"I'm sorry too," I whispered in her ear, snaking my right arm around her waist and enjoying her closeness. She didn't pull away.
I continued to play, just with my left hand, and she continued to watch me.
"Everything's so simple when I play," I found myself telling her quietly. "It's so easy. It's just me and the piano. Just me and notes, the rhythm, the sound, the feeling of the keys underneath my fingertips." I shrugged, playing a scale run. "See? It's not that hard. I don't even have to think. It's like whatever I want to create, I can do it here. I don't have to worry about anything else because it's irrelevant. If I want to play loud, I can play loud; if I want to play quietly, I can play quietly. Fast, slow…short, long…smooth, rough; I have control over all of it, and it's so simple. I feel like…I could almost lose myself in it," I said, tightening my hold on her waist when she rested her head on my shoulder. Without thinking the fingers of my right hand played with a belt loop of her jeans.
Winter nodded against my shoulder, and murmured, "I always knew you were a musician, deep down."
"How?" I asked her, smiling slightly.
"It's…" she glanced up at me without lifting her head. "…in your eyes. It only makes sense that you would be so musically inclined," she said. "It's one of those rules of nature, I think."
I chuckled a little, then finished the little melody I was picking out and closed the keyboard lid one-handed. I didn't want to move my other arm from where it was.
"How'd you get here?" I asked as we sat there, neither of us willing to move first.
"I drove," she said simply.
"What?" I said sharply, turning to her. Winter grinned up at my lazily.
"Don't look so surprised," she said. "I just borrowed my dad's car for a quick moment. What the cops don't know can't hurt 'em. Or me, for that matter."
I shook my head disbelievingly. "I can't believe you," I said. "What if you'd gotten in an accident or something? You'd probably hate me."
"Why?" she asked curiously.
"Because you would have driven out here just to apologize to me, of all people. What a stupid reason to get in an accident."
She laughed, and turned her head into my shirt to muffle her giggles.
"What?" I asked, pretending to get all defensive. "Hey, stop it, you're bruising my ego here, principessa."
That made her smile. "Good. It's too inflated anyway."
"Ooh," I winced, clutching at my chest. "Straight to the heart. That was cruel."
"You're a big softy, you know that?" Winter teased me.
"I know," I smirked. "But you love me for it."
She laughed. "You are still quite arrogant, you know that?"
I shrugged, grinning.
"Some things will never change, I guess," she said, smiling.
Chapter 18: Pandemonium
Winter
"Some things will never change, I guess," I smiled.
Zack's hand was at my waist, and he was unconsciously playing with a belt loop on my jeans. Somehow, today I was hypersensitive to his touch, and it was all I could concentrate on. He kept twisting the thin strip of denim around his finger, then releasing it, twisting and letting go. The first time he slipped two fingers into the loop and rubbed the rough material of my jeans in that spot, I jumped a little (but not away from him) and my head snapped up from its spot on his shoulder. Our bodies ended up closer together.
He looked at me, his golden eyes surprised. "What?" he said.
"Nothing," I said, because somehow I didn't want him to stop. A few seconds later he began fiddling with it again.
"Oh," he said with a start, laughing. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even aware that I was doing it. Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"No," I said, shaking my head and resting it back on his shoulder. "You never do." It slipped out of my mouth so easily and when I heard myself verbalize it I knew it was true. He made me nervous sometimes, but never to the point that I was uncomfortable being in his presence.
Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket, making me jump again. I gave Zack an apologetic half-shrug when he looked at me curiously, my eyes automatically glancing at the caller ID.
It was Eva.
I blinked uncomprehendingly at my cell phone's little screen, then answered mechanically. "Uh…hello?"
"Winter – oh, my god, I'm so glad you answered – I have something important to tell you –" She was very nearly
hysterical, which was highly alarming – of all the people I knew, Eva was one of the most level-headed.
"Woah, slow down, Eva," I said, becoming distressed just hearing the desperation in her voice. Apparently she had temporarily forgotten about our little fight, but at the moment, I wasn't thinking too hard about it either.
"It's – terrible, and it's not fair – how can he do this to us?" Her words tumbled out, tripping over themselves, and panic rose in me – what could have possibly happened to make Eva this hysterical?
O-okay, this is not good – hysteria is not something I have a PhD in. Temporarily out of control Eva on the line.
"Eva!" I said firmly but gently. "You need to slow down, hun, I can't understand what –"
She said something that literally made me choke on my own spit.
"What the —–!" I shrieked. My cell phone dropped and fell to the hardwood floor of the foyer with a clatter that echoed. Wow. Mark this in your calendars, everyone. First time Winter Bruin has screamed an explicative in public. Yikes. I peered around furtively, checking for security cameras in the immediate vicinity. Hey, don't give me that look – Zack was rich; who knew what kind of stuff his freaky parents had installed in his home?
Zack gave me a weird look. I was about to shoot a remark at him, but remembered that my cell phone was still on the ground. I dove underneath the grand piano for it, but when I came up my head banged with something very, very solid. It hurt.
It was Zack's head. He had bent over a little to see if I was okay. We both flinched, and I rubbed the throbbing spot on my head that had connected with his seconds ago.
"Gee, how hard is your head?" he complained.
"My head? Shut up," I returned, fumbling with my cell phone. "I'm in the middle of a crisis here. Eva?"
"Winter? Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Fine. Sorry about that."
I could imagine her wincing again, as she must have when I had shouted the explicative, because she suddenly shut up.
I took a deep, slow, calming breath through my nose, like they tell you to do in health class when you're on the edge of hyperventilating, then said, "Eva. Repeat what you said earlier."
"Pardon? Sorry, can you say that again? I accidentally pressed the intercom loud speaker-thingy right before you swore and I just turned it off, and my whole family has been temporarily rendered deaf and now Tristan is giving me a very weird look. Damn it, stop it, Tris – go AWAY – I'm – it's Winter, okay? Happy?"
"Eva," I said again, a little louder now. "Repeat. What. You. Said. Earlier. Please," I added on as an afterthought.
Eva took a deep breath and repeated what she had said earlier, only in a calmer tone this time.
"No way," I said. "Eva, you better not be pulling one on me, otherwise I'm going to freaking kill you."
"I'm not joking with you, okay?" she said, sounding upset. "Would I joke about something like this?"
Instant remorse flooded me. "I'm so sorry, Eva. I guess I just don't want to believe it, myself."
She sighed on the other end. "I don't want to believe it either, Winter. Here, Tris wants to talk to you."
There was a brief shuffling, then – "Winter?"
"Hey Tristan," I sighed. "What's up?"
"Nothing. Eva told you, huh?"
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah. Tell her I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes. I'll see you then."
We hung up. I looked up at Zack slowly.
He frowned. "What's wrong?"
I breathed in slowly again and released it as a long, deep sigh. "It was Eva. And Tristan."
His frown deepened. "And?"
I sighed again and rested my head back on his shoulder. We were quiet for a long moment.
"They're moving. Their dad's already found a house."
He froze. "Ex-excuse me?" he stuttered.
"She…is…moving," I said, frowning myself. I still couldn't believe it. "Can you pinch me now so I can make sure I'm not dreaming?" I said, wonderingly.
"No," he said. "It's going to hurt."
"That's the point," I said.
He pinched me.
It hurt. A lot.
"Ow, what was that for?" I yelped.
"You asked for it!" Zack said defensively, batting away my hands. "Hey – hey, come on – stop it – hey, seriously now, don't slap me –"
I stopped. "So I'm not dreaming."
"No, I don't believe you are," Zack said slowly.
"My best friend is moving," I re-iterated, looking up at the ceiling, my heart heavy.
"Come on," Zack said softly, stroking my hair. "I'll drive you over."
xxxxx
By the time I reached the Westley house, it was the perfect epitome of pandemonium – when I walked in the door, I almost wished I could walk right back out again. Denise, Eva's mom, was there in the kitchen, and screaming something at Mr. Westley, who was shouting back just as loudly and standing on the other side of the room.
"That's not fair to anyone, Oliver, and you know –"
"You think it's fair to me that I now have to watch over six kids with a full time job and no help?" Mr. Westley roared. "Oh, I'll tell you about fair –"
Talk about having a row. It was like they were testing it out, to see how far they could stand apart and still yell each other's heads off.
Zack and I wandered into the living room, where he stopped Matty.
"Woah, where ya goin', bud?" Zack asked him gently, holding him by the shoulder and crouching down to the boy's height.
"I'm leaving," Matty said, soft brown eyes filling up with tears. "I'm gonna go move in with my friend Paul." He had a suitcase in hand which was badly packed; I could see a corner of a shirt peeping out.
"Well, tell ya what," Zack said, leading him over to a couch. "Let me help you pack that up a little neater, and I'll give you a glass of water, then let's talk about moving out, okay?" He glanced up at me and I gave him a cautious smile. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought that something like a blush tinted his cheeks then, but I was probably imagining things.
I hurried upstairs. Anthony had locked himself in his room and was playing Linkin Park on his sound system as loud as it would go.
"Anthony!" I yelled, knocking on his door. "It's Winter. Let me in."
"What do you want?" he asked me moodily a moment later when he opened his door, eyes flashing. Anthony was, at its simplest, punk – he usually dressed in black and wore skater shoes. But I had always liked his Etnies, despite what his mother said. His brown hair and crystal blue eyes kind of killed the image though. He had let me in on a secret last week – he was planning on dying his hair some crazy color just to get on his dad's nerves.
"Could you please turn it down?" I asked as politely as I could. An angry Anthony was not something I wanted to contend with. He was, perhaps, the moodiest of the Westleys.
He slammed the door in my face. Gee, doesn't anyone appreciate politeness anymore? I knocked again.
"WHAT?!" Anthony blew up in my face.
"Zack's downstairs if you want to see him," I said coolly.
He glared at me, but retreated into his room. A second later, "Faint" stopped in mid verse. Anthony pushed past me to go downstairs.
But, "Thanks," he grunted, grudgingly, as he passed me.
I stood in front of Anthony's room until I heard, from downstairs, "Hey Anthony. 'Sup man?"
"Hey Zack," came Anthony's low voice. I assumed that they had done that little male handshake-high-five-hand-slap thing.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Want a glass of water?"
Anthony was in safe hands now. I moved down the hall. The next door was the bathroom, and I heard someone sniffling inside. I opened the door very quietly.
"Emily!" I gasped.
When she saw me she began to really cry, tears streaming down her cheeks and leaving wet trails. "W-W-Winter," she hiccupped, "I don't – I don't wanna move!" She started wailing.
"Oh, honey, I know you don't," I said, sitting down cross legged on the tiled floor with her and hugging her. "Shh, it's okay, everything will be okay, darling."
I cradled her for a minute or so, and when she calmed down a little, I led her downstairs (past Anthony's room; Emily raised her eyebrows in a very Eva-esque way when we passed it) to the living room, where she crawled into Zack's lap.
He looked up at me, surprised, in the middle of his conversation with Anthony. I gave him a pleading look, and he nodded.
"Hey Em," he said in a light voice, holding her and rubbing her back comfortingly. "You wanna glass of water?"
I ruffled Matty's hair absentmindedly. He was watching TV while Anthony and Zack were chatting about something, and both the Westley boys were sipping a glass of water each. How Zack had managed to get into the kitchen through the Westley parental units waging World War III was beyond me. I then trotted back upstairs as quickly as I could. Three down, three more to go.
Opposite the bathroom was Samantha's room. Her door was closed, like Anthony's, but not a sound came from it.
"Sam?" I said cautiously, pushing open the door. She never locked it. I slipped into her room and closed the door behind me.
"Winter? Oh, hi," she said, blinking at me and closing her book. She was lying on her stomach on top of her comforter. "Everything okay?" she asked me. Her doe-like brown eyes watched me as I sat down on the end of her bed.
I smiled involuntarily. It was just like quiet Sam to be worried about others over herself.
"Yeah," I said. "Are you okay?" I reached over and tucked a strand of her silky brown hair behind her ear.
She nodded. "I think. How's everyone else?"
"Definitely not as calm as you," I laughed a little. Sam gave me a shy smile. "Well, if everything's okay in here, I'm going to go deal with your two oldest now."
She nodded at me, opening A String in the Harp back to her place.
I left her room and too soon I found myself standing in front of Tristan's door. I noted that Eva's room had been deserted, which meant that both of them were in his room.
I stood there in the hall, shifting my weight uneasily from foot to foot, then took a breath. I opened the door behind which were the last of the Westley siblings.