by Kitty Parker
"You can think that," she assured me.
"I'm not," I muttered, trying not to sound like a child. But then curiosity got the better of me, like usual, "Why did you think I was lying?"
"Your eyes," she replied. I had a feeling she was saying much more then she usually would have if she had been completely awake and I was prepared to take full advantage of that. I'm only a gentleman to a point.
"What about them?" Was she a stalker? The whole studying my eyes thing was pretty weird. Her own green ones glinted laughingly back at me.
"They're only sapphire when you lie."
Yep, definitely scary. Not even I knew that. And how could she tell? I think I would have noticed if she was staring into my eyes when I was lying.
"How did you notice that?" I asked.
"Habit." I could tell that, despite her lack of awareness, I wasn't going to get anymore out of her. But it's still freaky.
"That's weird," I observed. I was almost certain she wouldn't take offense at being called weird like any sane person would.
"They aren't my eyes." So that wasn't what I had meant, it was a good job of twisting my words. And she had a point.
"So now I won't be able to lie to you anymore," I mock whined. She chuckled, long dark hair veiling her face.
"Just make sure to hide your eyes if you do," she laughed. "Wait," she sat up, "you make it a habit of lying to me?"
"I lie to everyone," I confessed. She smiled wanly and curled back up.
"You aren't the only one," she muttered in a voice that I guessed I wasn't supposed to hear. What was Emma lying about, exactly?
"When is someone getting here?" she continued in a more audible voice.
I glanced at my watch. 12:30.
"Probably within a half hour," I informed her. She groaned.
"What happened at the party?" she asked idly.
"Nothing unusual," I commented. It was true, sadly enough.
Her piercing eyes flicked over me. I had gone in my usual impeccable state, open black button down over a blue t-shirt and jeans with hair ruffled just enough to be becoming. I had come back with my hair a complete mess and clothes in the same state of disarray.
"It looks like you had fun," she observed dryly. I smirked at her.
"Well, I didn't drink, but when the girls do…" I trailed off suggestively.
"You're a pig." It wasn't even like she was telling me something I didn't know, her tone suggested that she was simply reiterating a fact that everyone knew.
"I am not fat!" I exclaimed, purposely misinterpreting her words. She threw a pillow at me. I caught it and chucked it back. She put it underneath her head thoughtfully.
"You really are, though," she continued, "You just aren't aware of it. Yet."
"Oh?"
"You don't see it, do you?' she said. What don't I see? I hate people who don't define their antecedents. "The girls who cry because of you. Who shut themselves into the bathroom stalls after you drop them. Who fade away after you discard them like a used-"
"That doesn't happen," I denied emphatically, "The girls I do stuff with don't care about things like that."
"Mia Smith."
I winced. She had to bring that up, didn't she? The one time- And it's not like it was my fault anyway! R so I always tried to convince myself on those white 3 AMs.
"A mistake," I spat, "a fluke."
"No," she contradicted, "Just a more obvious incarnation of a pervasive plague."
"And what's that plague called?" I joked, though I could tell she wasn't joking. But I was doing my best to turn the conversation.
"Darien McGavern."
"That's Darien McGavern the third," I corrected with a grin. She sighed.
"I'm not kidding Darien," she warned.
"Well it's not my fault!" I exclaimed, than continued in a mutter, "It's the damn Matchmaker's."
"What?" she snapped in surprise, "Why hers?"
"If all these girls weren't asking to get set up with me, the problem wouldn't be there."
She laughed, a long, hysterical, going-to-suffocate-if-you-don't-stop-laughing sort of laugh, silent but obvious.
"You're so arrogant, Darien," she chuckled when she could breathe again. I sneered.
"What do you mean?"
She sobered and looked at me with huge, unreadable eyes, as wide and unblinking as a cat's.
"So arrogant," she repeated in a quieter voice, and I had a notion that she wasn't speaking to me anymore. I wasn't about to ask her about it when she abruptly changed the subject. "When is someone getting here?"
Only to happy to leave the subject of my... indiscretions, I looked at my watch.
"15 minutes ago," I admitted. She sat up.
"We have school tomorrow," she observed. No shit, Sherlock.
"Yeah."
"I need sleep," she added. So does every human being, I really didn't see a point.
"So..?"
She unfolded herself from the chair and stood, stretching.
"I'm walking home," she stated flatly. I rose as well and pushed her down onto the couch.
"You'd fall asleep in a ditch," I informed her, grinning at her obvious weakness, "Sleep here."
"Here!"
"Yeah," I shrugged, "I'll drive you home or to school or whatever tomorrow. I won't tell anyone, even."
"Like I trust you," she muttered, looking mutinous. She knew she had no choice, though. I wouldn't let her out of the house alone, and she quite obviously needed sleep.
I left her to make the couch as comfortable as she could and walked to my room. I set my alarm clock conscientiously for a half hour earlier then usual, to give Emma time to get home, and settled into bed.
Emma's accusations ran through my mind. I wasn't that bad, was I? Had I really become something like that? I tossed and turned with that on my mind. I couldn't sleep, couldn't close my eyes without Mia or Emma's accusing, enigmatic eyes appearing before me.
Finally, I rose and stalked to the den. If I couldn't get her out of my head, I would at least make her suffer with me.
Emma was lying on the couch, deathly still. Her skin was so pale in contrast with her dark hair and clothes, and in the shadows it looked inhumanly so. For a minute, she didn't move, and I was terrified my instinctive worry was right.
Then I noticed her shiver and cuddle into her sweatshirt more, and I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding. The haunted illusion was dispelled.
I padded silently in. this time, she didn't wake when I got close. I grabbed a blanket lying next to her and covered her with it, then returned to my room without waking her.
I fell directly to sleep.
Chapter 12
* * *
Emma
* * *
I blinked awake with no idea of where I was. I wasn't a morning person at the best of times, and after having had 7 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, I didn't have a clue what was happening, except that the morning sun never, ever, cut across my eyes in my room like it was doing now.
I lay still a moment, trying to wake up and recollect myself, stuff started to come back to me. The leather beneath me reminded me of where I was. The McGavern Manor. I had slept over at the McGavern Manor. Somehow, my sleep drenched mind couldn't wrap itself around that simple fact. It only comprehended one thing. I had to get out of here before people could see me and jump to extremely wrong conclusions.
As silently as possible- and that's the silence of years of training- I slipped out from underneath the blanket and folded it neatly on the couch. I didn't recall going to sleep with a blanket, but that was easily put down to an exhausted brain last night. This morning. I cringed at the thought of what I might have told Darien. My insomnia didn't often catch up to me enough to get me that out of it, but when it did, I had no control over myself. I could only hope I hadn't revealed too much, but I had only the vaguest of memories of what we had said.
Grabbing my backpack and sweatshirt, I scurried down the long, empty corridors to
the front hall, glancing at my watch. I had time to stop back at the house before school, if I hurried and skipped breakfast. Mmm… breakfast. The wafting smell of bacon and eggs drifted through the halls, catching my attention. I fought the urge to follow it as I entered the front hall, but just as I was about to step foot in it, the butler materialized in front of me. Oh great, so now he shows up. He couldn't have done that last night, of course, because that would have been good for me.
"Would Miss like some breakfast?" he offered. For all its polite phrasing, it wasn't a suggestion, and I was too weak-willed to resist the smell even if it had been. I trotted obediently after him as he led me to the kitchen, where I was brought up short by a woman sitting at the table, calmly nibbling at a piece of toast.
She looked me up and down with crystalline blue eyes under perfectly plucked eyebrows. I could feel her condescendingly taking in my obviously slept in clothes and hair that for once almost managed to be messy.
"Who are you?" she demanded with arrogance worthy of her eldest son. Still, I smiled and put out a hand for her to shake. Being rude to people in power was never a good idea, and she came off as the kind of woman whose bad side was a mortal place to be. If I hadn't been ashamed of being a total dork, I would have called her a sorceress: chilling, powerful, beautiful, and with vaguely menacing air.
"Emma Laycha," I introduced myself. She gave my hand a quick, dismissive shake and then dropped it as if it was repulsive.
"Of course, Lexington's new step-daughter," she remarked. I concealed my surprise that she knew who I was, but her sons did not, "Why are you here?"
I slid into a seat at the counter as Alfred set a plate down in front of me.
"I was baby-sitting Troy and my ride home turned out to be unavailable. BY the time someone came back to give me a ride, it was too late for me to leave," I replied coolly. This woman was intimidating, yes, but I could manage to stay on my feet.
"Oh?" she imbued reams of meaning into that one syllable. Her eyes ran up and down me again, and though I couldn't read any emotion in her face, I knew where her thoughts were going, "And where did you sleep?"
I smiled icily at her, for this battle I could win. I had proof that I had slept on the couch, if she cared to look at the couch. "On the couch."
"I am certain you did," she returned in tones that contradicted her statement. I chuckled without any humour at the pure absurdity of what she was thinking.
"I assure you madam; I want nothing your older son would offer me."
Her eyebrows rose into perfectly coifed hair. I continued to eat; making sure it was as daintily as I could manage. Darien I would annoy by scarfing down my food, but this woman was above such petty wiles.
"If I may inquire, why were you baby-sitting?" she queried, couching nosiness in polite terms, "Surely Jack gives you everything you want."
"I'm sure he would," I agreed loyally (and, as an added bonus, truthfully), "But I prefer the independence my own money brings."
"Sensible," she admitted. Hiding my glee at getting this woman to praise me, I tried to recall what I had heard about Mrs. McGavern. Her husband's full partner as a CEO, I remembered, people often used her as an example of how women were on the rise in the business world. She had worked her way up the corporate ladder through skill and cunning alone; she had been her husband's business partner before she was his wife.
She continued eating her toast as I finished my bacon and eggs. I rose and placed my plate in the sink.
"Thank you, Alfred," I told the butler, who nodded enigmatically, "It was delicious."
"My pleasure," he replied simply, whisking away Mrs. McGavern's plate before she had a chance to even consider clearing it herself, if she had even been intending to, which I doubt.
I picked up my backpack and turned to leave, nodding my farewell to Mrs. McGavern. As I reached the doorway, a commanding voice called me back.
"Wait, girl," she ordered imperiously, "I will take you to school. It is on my way."
I returned her calculatingly charming smile with my own seemingly open one.
"Thank you, but no," I demurred, "I would prefer to walk."
As I left the room, I could have sworn her smile was real.
o0O0o0O0o
Allan stomped up to me the minute I entered the school, usually joyful face dark with anger.
"Where were you?" he demanded. I rolled my eyes.
"I slept over at the McGavern's," he opened his mouth, but I overrode him, "and it was on a couch, thank you for your confidence in me. I didn't really have a choice, seeing how someone forgot to pick me up."
His eyes widened and he slapped himself on the forehead with a massive hand, then rubbed it as he felt the impact.
"Oh, shit, Em, I'm sorry, but…"
"Stow it." I shoved past him, stalking away from him with the greatest dignity I could muster. He ran after me.
"I think I have some clothes in my car, if you want," he offered placatingly. I turned. He knew my weakness for cleanliness.
"I'm a bit smaller than you," I pointed out patronizingly. He shrugged.
"I'm sure you can figure something out."
I sighed in exasperation, but my OCD-ness overcame my reluctance and I followed him nonetheless. What choice did I have? Rhi wasn't there to save me with a clever solution of how to make her much longer clothes fit me, and there was no one else I could conceivably borrow clothes from. No one else close to my size even knew I existed.
He rummaged around in his trunk for a moment, than grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. They looked to be at least 5 times too big for me.
"Sorry," he said as he offered them to me, "These are all I have."
I groaned, but accepted them. Maybe if I found something to use as a belt, the shirt would work as a dress…
"Hey Lex!" a feminine voice called, than faltered as she approached, "Why are you, like, giving her your clothes?"
I turned. Candy was trotting towards us-well, towards Allan.
"Umm…" Allan was staring at her blankly. She cocked her head in confusion, but that only made her shirt slip a little bit lower and Allan's eyes to glaze even more.
"I'm in an unfortunate state of lacking clean clothes," I cut in smoothly, trying to save my step-brother from too much embarrassment, "Lex was kind enough to offer me some of his."
Her eyebrows rose high enough so as to be lost in her short-cropped blonde hair.
"Lex?" she observed, "You're quite a lot larger than her."
"But no one else was offering," he protested, finally finding his voice.
"Like, no one at all?"
"None," I confirmed. Her aquamarine eyes inspected me quickly, seeming to judge me, but not as Mrs. McGavern had. This was purely a surface judgment.
"Well, now I am. Come with me." She grabbed my wrist.
"No offense, Candy," I stood my ground, "But I don't think your stuff will fit me either."
This is a good part of the reason I hate being so damn short. No one's stuff fits me, except my own.
"I know," she agreed, pink manicured nails digging into my wrist, "But it's, like, closer. We can improvise."
"Oh joy," I drawled. She grinned perkily and dragged me off, abandoning Allan at his car.
"Don't worry," she assured me, "I'm real good at this sort of thing. I've had, like, loads of practice."
"It's not you I'm terrified for," I retorted, "It's me.
* * *
Darien
* * *
I glowered at the world from my slouch in the corne3r of after-lunch math. Well, t was before class, so no one was there to glower at, but if anyone had shoed up, my rage would have driven them away.
I mean, she was just rude. Disappearing after I went to all the trouble to actually wake up and get ready to drive her somewhere early-okay, so I still woke up at my usual time despite my alarm, she could have waited- before school even! And then she's just not there with the blanket all neatly folded so it seems like she never even was there.
But by far the worst part of the whole damned affair was stumbling bemusedly into the kitchen and having Alfred inform me with his damn completely dispassionate monotone that Emma had had breakfast with my mother. My mother! And not only that, but my mother seemed to approve of Emma!
And that is so freaking messed up, because my mother likes no one except her husband. Not even her sons! And she certainly doesn't approve of me, as she makes clear in no uncertain terms. But she approved of the nobody-Emma, I mean. Emma's just a low-class plebian who actually works. During high school! How not high class can you get! And yet my mother approves!
I was so deep in my angry ramblings that I barely noticed someone enter the room. When the sound of metal scraping on linoleum finally alerted me to their presence and I glanced over, I could see Emma slouched in her usual seat across the room, reading as per usual.
My glare strengthened. How dare she sit there so innocently, like she hadn't done anything, and with me in the room, too! I pushed my chair out so violently it fell over and rose, storming over to her with no degree of subtly. She only looked up when my shadow blocked her light. She crossed her arms deliberately over her chest after carefully marking her page and closing the book.
"What do you want?" she asked impatiently. Impatiently, as I if was in the wrong! ME!
"Why did you just disappear this morning?" I demanded, glaring down at her with all the force years of ruling everyone who came my way bequeathed. She met it without any of the usual caving.
"Disappear?" her confusion seems honest, but I knew from experience she was a very good liar, "I left, yeah, and I didn't think it worth waking you."
"I told you I would drive you," I spat. Look at her, trying to act all clueless. The sad thing was, if I hadn't known perfectly well she knew what I was talking about, I would have believed her. But as I said her words, her confusion cleared slightly.
"You did?" she asked. I nodded curtly. She knew perfectly well I had. She shook her head apologetically, tucking a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear, "I should have warned you, I was completely out of it last night. You could have told me all your deepest, darkest secrets and I wouldn't remember them right now. It always happens when I'm that tired."