by Liz Fichera
We walked in silence, the waves drowning out all other sounds. I closed my eyes against the sun, against the mist from the water, inhaling the air. When I opened them, the water glistened like diamonds against the blue sky. It was like staring at a postcard.
Sam’s eyes smiled down at me. He was doing that thing again where his eyes did the talking instead of his mouth. I’d swear he wanted to kiss me.
But then the smile in his eyes faded. “Riley, we might as well get this over with. We really have to talk.”
I faced the ocean, mist bouncing off my cheeks, Sam in my periphery. “It can’t wait just a little while longer?” Maybe I could have handled the Sam Speech at the McDonald’s in Yuma but this…this was like we were standing in our own paradise. I didn’t want anything to ruin the moment, but I already knew his answer by the tilt of his head.
That couldn’t be good. It might even be worse than I thought. It was obvious that I had disappointed Sam Tracy. I knew that I had gone too far the past couple of weeks. He was still angry about Friday night; so was my brother. My parents were freaking out at me. Join the club.
But now, standing beside him with an ocean stretched in front of us, I’d take it all back. Disappointing Sam felt worse than anything, worse than I had ever imagined.
42
Sam
I’d never been the type to talk about my feelings and problems. I would rather stick cactus needles in my eyes. But somehow being away from Phoenix, away from school, away from Jay Hawkins and all of the other useless distractions, suddenly my jaw didn’t clench so much. My shoulders loosened. I could breathe. I could be me.
And maybe I could let Riley see beyond what I was normally willing to show. I only hoped that I wouldn’t come off too righteous.
Riley and I walked to the shore, just before the water reached us, and we sat in front of an endless stretch of shiny wet sand. The beach was empty and a soft ocean spray cooled my cheeks. I squinted into the sun. I was ready to get everything off my chest but unsure how to start….
“So talk.” Riley prodded my shoulder with her finger.
I jumped a little when she spoke, despite the pounding waves. I gazed back over the horizon for courage.
Then she reached down for my hand and held it in both of hers as she looked at me. Funny how her touch seemed so natural now. I liked it.
“Is this about Fred?”
“No,” I said, turning to her. “Yes.” I sighed. “I mean, no. Not really.” How could I say that? My crazy stupid love for Fred was what started this whole downward spiral and the intersection of our lives.
“Yes? No?” She chuckled nervously and I could tell she suddenly felt uneasy about holding my hand. “So which one is it? Did you finally tell her how you felt? Did you finally ask her out? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“This has nothing to do with Fred. I mean, it does and it doesn’t. But this is about Jay Hawkins—”
“Jay?” She sounded disappointed.
“Yeah. We kind of got into a fight at school.”
“Kind of?” Horror filled her face. “What? When?”
“This morning.” Now she sounded like she was defending this guy.
But then she scanned my face, like she was checking for bruises. She examined my hand, but I pulled it away from her fingers and thrust it into the sand. “Are you…are you hurt?”
“Are you kidding?” A few bruises on my knuckles, but they blended into my skin.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
My voice rose. “Jay Hawkins? Please. Don’t insult me.”
“Is he…okay?” She cringed.
“He might have a black eye.” It did not pain me to share this detail. “Or something.” Hopefully he’d have to get his jaw wired shut for the rest of the school year.
“Gah! Why? Why did you get into a fight with Jay? That’s totally crazy! After he got you nominated to prom court?”
I leaned forward. “Seriously? You seriously don’t know?” Then I leaned back, already exhausted from talking in circles, from trying to explain and gauging her reactions, which changed every second. Was she really that naive? “And I didn’t want to be nominated, Riley. Why would you even ask him to do that? Without asking me first?”
“So Fred would have a good reason for going with you to prom. Obv.” Riley said it like I was an idiot.
“Be real. Fred is going with Ryan.”
“But what if you needed a date? A date for the biggest night of your life? She’d go with you in a heartbeat.”
“You don’t know Fred.”
“You don’t know women.”
Well, Riley had me there. But, still. There was no way Fred was going anywhere without Ryan. Not now. Not ever. “Wait. Stop.” I put up my palm and closed my eyes, dizzy from Riley’s logic and the weird way her mind worked. As usual, she was getting me off topic. “This isn’t about Fred.”
“But you brought up prom—”
“This is about Jay Hawkins.”
Riley sat back, extending her legs. “Okay, so what about him?”
“Haven’t you seen what he’s been saying about you on Facebook?”
Riley sat straighter, momentarily excited. Then her shoulders slumped. “Can’t. My parents took away my laptop.”
“Well, you should check his page.”
“Why?”
“’Cause he’s been making fun of you, Riley. Jay, your best new bud. And maybe in other places, too.” I paused. “He’s totally been playing you, Riley.”
“Playing me? That’s ridiculous! You’ve got to stop saying that.”
“Do you even know what happened Friday night?”
She turned. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean…kind of.” Her voice got softer. “I don’t remember everything.” Her shoulders pulled together, and she looked embarrassed. “And I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about it, thanks to my parents.”
I exhaled, running my other hand through my hair. “Jeez, Riley.” I shook my head. “Guys like Jay Hawkins…well, they’re the last guys you ever want to be alone with. Ever.” I drew back a breath again. “Did he do anything…you know?” I tilted my head like the question should be obvious.
She shook her head, blushed and buried her chin against her shoulder. Even quieter than before, she said, “No. I would know, Sam. And Jay’s not like that.” She turned to the ocean and said, “And I’m pretty sure he’s taking me to prom.”
I pulled back. “Are you serious?” It was hard to control my disgust. And some of my jealousy. “Has he asked you?”
She sniffed and looked away. “Not yet. Not officially. But I’m sure he will.”
My voice got louder. “Riley, he didn’t care that you had to walk home in the middle of the night on an injured leg. And after all the pictures he’s posting of you online, you still like this guy?” My voice rose well above the roar of the ocean. “You’d still go anywhere with him? Are you that desperate?”
She couldn’t answer—wouldn’t answer—but I watched her nostrils flare with anger.
I grabbed her arm, turning her toward me. I needed her to hear me, every word. “Don’t be so sure he’ll ask.”
She pulled away. “What’s it to you? Why do you even care?”
I reached for her hand but she pulled it away. “Maybe because I feel like I kind of got you into this. I shouldn’t have told you about Fred. I shouldn’t have told you anything.” My voice was tight. “I feel responsible.” And I’m falling for you, hard. But I couldn’t tell her that. Those words wouldn’t leave my lips, not now. Maybe not ever. I didn’t feel like getting my heart pulverized again.
Riley’s lip quivered.
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She dragged her hand beneath her nose.
This time, her tears didn’t stop me from saying what needed to be said. “And I don’t need your help with Fred, Riley. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing I want you to do.” Her lips quivered. “Fred belongs with Ryan. She’s
made that clear.”
Riley looked away, the wind tossing her hair in front of her face. “Yeah, well, if I’d known you were going to give up so easily, I wouldn’t have gotten involved. My bad.”
I leaned back on my hands and laughed. “Oh, now I’m the bad guy?”
She sniffed.
“You think you can throw out an apology and everything goes away?” I said. “You think life is that easy?” I laughed, but nothing was funny at the moment. Nothing.
Riley’s clouded gaze morphed into a full-on glare and her mouth opened. Her chest moved faster, like she was starting to hyperventilate.
“Wait,” I said, raising my palm. “I didn’t mean—”
She rose, still glaring at me. I wanted to say something that would make her feel better but in that moment I was struck stone-cold silent by the blue of her eyes. Fiery and mesmerizing at the same time, they matched the ocean. They were pure Riley. “Save it, Sam. You don’t want to know. You don’t know a single thing about me. You think you do but, trust me, you don’t.” Then she began to march toward the parking lot, the sand shooting up like daggers behind her heels.
“Wait up,” I said. As usual, my words didn’t come out like I wanted them to. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up.”
I pulled back on her arm. “Wait. Hear me out.”
“Oh, I heard you. Loud and clear. You obviously think I’m a total loser, too.”
“I never said that!” But then my voice softened. “I was only trying to warn you about Jay Hawkins.”
She yanked her arm but I held her elbow. “I already told you I have a brother,” she said through clenched teeth. “I definitely don’t need another one.”
“And maybe…just maybe, I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Like I said—”
Blacks and reds flashed in my periphery. “Oh, no.” I glanced over her shoulder.
“What?” Riley snapped. She turned and looked at the parking lot with me.
Three beefy guys with jet-black hair and lots of arm and neck tats began circling my motorcycle like it was prey. One guy wearing a red baseball cap on backward hopped on the seat and twisted the throttle.
My heart raced faster. My hand squeezed Riley’s arm. “Wait here.”
She nodded. Her face paled as gray as the sand.
Quickly, I slipped back into my socks and shoes and then I jogged back to the parking lot, even as sand filled the heels of my shoes.
“Hey!” I said when I took my first step onto the pavement. My voice filled the parking lot. “Back off, dude! That’s my bike you’re messing with!”
The guy on my motorcycle, the biggest of the three, bristled. But then his irritation sprouted into a grin. I was close enough to see a snake tattoo curling up his neck. “Yeah?” he yelled back, a thin muscle bulging beneath the tattoo. “And who’s the shithead that’s gonna make me?” His friends laughed.
I ignored them.
“You?” he said, making a hand signal and pressing it against his chest.
I stormed toward them, anyway. Adrenaline raged through my veins. “Get. Off. My. Ride!” I was making everything worse, just like I had with Jay Hawkins. And this time there were three of them, but I was too furious to be scared.
When I got close, Biker Guy leaped off the seat. He proceeded to kick it to the ground with the heel of his boot.
My teeth clenched as the handlebars crashed in slow motion against the pavement. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” I growled.
Biker Guy stalked toward me, chest puffed, his friends flanked on either side of him.
The tighter the space between us, the less clearly my mind worked. I was reacting on pure rage.
Biker Guy stood below my chin, his chest grazing mine, taunting me. His breath was stale. “What’s your problem, man? We were only admiring your wheels.” He grinned at me with teeth stained from too many cigarettes. I should have my head examined for standing so close but I couldn’t help it. He had kicked my bike.
“Yeah?” I said, closing the sliver of distance between us. He wasn’t going to stare me down. “Where I come from, people usually ask before helping themselves to other people’s stuff.”
“Ohhhh.” Biker Guy exhaled, turning to his friends with fake admiration. He backed off a hair, but I could still make out the teardrop tattoos that dotted the side of his face. I should be way more scared than I was. “And where’s that, bro? ’Cause you sure don’t look like you’re from around here.”
It was hard not to roll my eyes. The idiot was behaving like I was from another country, which, I guessed compared to him, I probably was. “Just get away from my bike, man. Cool?” I lifted my palms, remembering that Riley was behind me. “No harm done.”
His friends chuckled again in a way that said plenty of harm had already been done. The one on his right was probably around my age, looked Asian, skinny, with tattoos sleeved on both arms. He reached a hand behind his waistband. At first I thought he was pulling up his pants but then I froze.
Riley…
While I’d been staring down Biker Guy, one of his loser friends had slipped away.
Next thing I knew, Riley was squirming beside me. A guy more heavily tattooed than Biker Guy had her by the arm.
“Fine mamacita!” Biker Guy clucked, flashing a silver stud in the middle of his tongue. “Is this yours, too, bro?” He grinned, wider than before. His friends trilled their approval, as all three circled Riley like vultures.
“I’m not anyone’s,” Riley said, her voice trembling. Somehow she was able to shake off his grip.
This only made them laugh harder.
“She’s with me,” I said, stepping closer to Riley. I draped my arm across her shoulder, not casually but so I could push her out of the way if necessary. “Leave her alone,” I said. “She’s just a girl.”
Biker Guy chuckled. “Do I look blind to you? I have two eyes,” he said, as his gaze continued to sweep over Riley.
Frozen beneath my arm, Riley whispered, “Can’t we just get out of here?”
“No one’s going anywhere,” Biker Guy said. “This party’s just getting started.”
My eyes shifted around the parking lot, toward the entrance. Except for a couple of empty cars, we were still alone.
All my senses heightened.
Biker Guy grazed Riley’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Soft as butta,” he said, turning to his friends. They chuckled with appraising eyes.
Riley sucked back a breath.
“Hey. Hands off,” I said.
Biker Guy puffed out his chest again. “Who’s gonna make me?” He jabbed a finger at my chest. “You?” The whites of his eyes flashed wilder.
“Just back off.”
“Tell you what,” Biker Guy said, pulling on his chin. “You give me the keys to your ride, and I let you leave in one piece. Comprendes?”
“What?” Riley squeaked beside me. “How will we get home?”
I ignored Riley. “Tell you what,” I said, matching Biker Guy’s grin. “You step out of our way, and I’ll let you keep your pretty teeth.”
Biker Guy backed away a fraction, his arms outstretched, as they shared another chuckle. Then Biker Guy’s hand reached for the back of his waistband and his toothy smile disappeared. He pointed a gun at us.
Time froze.
I was hardly a gun expert but I knew enough to recognize a 9 mm. Icy nickel-plated, the gun was aimed straight at my chest.
Riley shook harder.
I raised my palm. “Whoa. Come on now, let’s talk this out.”
“New plan,” Biker Guy said, his gaze darting over his shoulder for any type of audience. Unfortunately for Riley and me, it was just the two of us, three crazy guys and at least one gun—probably more from the way their hands twitched around their waistbands. “Mamacita comes with us and you get to keep your piece-of-shit ride.”
Riley pressed closer to my shoulder like she wanted to hide inside my jacket.
&n
bsp; I licked my dry lips. “No deal,” I said with as much conviction as I could.
But Tattooed Arms Guy reached for Riley, yanking her away from me, while Biker Guy kept his gun trained on me. “Back off, dude,” he said, his voice turning sinister. “The time for trash talk is over.”
Riley reached out for me. I reached back, and our fingertips brushed together.
I started breathing heavy, trying to think of something to say, something more to do. Everything was happening in fast-forward. “Hey, the bike’s yours,” I said, dangling the rabbit foot in front of me. “Just let her go.” Slowly, I stepped toward them. Riley wriggled like a catfish caught in a net. “Take the keys.”
Then the most wonderful sound filled the parking lot.
Sirens. A whole symphony of them.
And they were coming straight for us.
Without a word, Biker Guy and his sidekicks stuffed their knives and guns back in their waistbands, looking sideways, back and forth. Before I could blink, they were inside their car, the engine revved, the accelerator floored. Biker Guy peeled toward the entrance, smoke spewing from the back tires.
In the next heartbeat, I had Riley by the arm and pulled her toward my motorcycle. I wasn’t breathing. I was just moving, fast and slow motion at the same time. I lifted the bike off the ground as if it were lighter than air. The helmet was still threaded over the handlebar. Riley got on right behind me, her leg slipping over the seat. Her arms reached for my waist.
“Oh, my god, Sam.” Riley’s trembling voice brushed against my ear. Her entire body shook against mine. “Let’s get out of here.”
My key found the ignition, my hand pulled back on the throttle and we were racing toward the entrance.
And the army of police cars and fire trucks? They sped straight down the street, their red-and-yellow lights peeking through the trees that separated the beach from the street, as if we were never there.
43
Riley
I flung my arms around Sam’s waist, clinging to him as tightly as ever. It was an effort to keep myself from getting hysterical between his shoulder blades. It was a weird thing to watch your life flash before your eyes.
We sped down streets called Mission, Loma, Oceanside and Harrison, all happy-sounding names that cruelly masked what could really happen if you took a wrong turn when no one was looking. We made lefts and rights and more U-turns. We rode in circles till my head spun.