by Jordan Lynde
‘You’re quitting?’ he said, looking caught off-guard.
‘Mr Bring, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’ Collin interjected, standing from his seat.
Arden turned to face him. ‘You can’t let her quit—’
‘She’s only seventeen years old, Mr Bring, as you told me. She can’t work here, even as a substitute,’ Collin told him. ‘Now, quitting is Ms Allen’s own decision, Mr Bring, and it’s not your business any longer.’
‘But—’
‘Out, Mr Bring.’
Arden gave me one brief, panicked look before closing the door again.
I stared at the door for a moment, taken aback by Arden’s sudden appearance. Why was he making it seem like he cared? He was the one who had told Collin the truth about my age, so obviously he didn’t want me here any more. ‘Are you sure about this?’ I asked, turning back to Collin.
‘Do you want me to try and press charges?’ he replied, raising an eyebrow.
I shook my head immediately.
‘Then please go gather your belongings and just go home.’
‘OK,’ I responded, standing up from the desk. ‘Collin . . . thank you.’
He gave me a half-smile, half-grimace. ‘Unfortunately, I can’t thank you.’
I blushed, turning my gaze to the floor. ‘I’m sorry. If any problems arise, let me know. I promise I’ll accept full responsibility,’ I told him.
His eyes crinkled as he sent me a genuine smile. ‘Good to hear. But let’s hope I don’t have to make that call.’
‘Yeah,’ I agreed.
‘Have a good day, Harley.’
I finally stood up, still feeling a little shaky. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? Sure, maybe I’d dodged a bullet, but I was back to having no source of income again. Still, I deserved it. But I needed to find a job again and fast. I could feel a lump forming in my throat.
Arden was standing right next to the office door when I exited. Not wanting to talk to him, I quickly turned on my heel and hurried away.
‘Harley, wait!’ I heard him call and I just sped up. ‘Wait!’ he said again.
I took two more steps before I felt him grab my arm and pull me forcefully to a stop. I turned my head to look at him, trying to blink back tears. ‘What?’
‘I’m sorry—’
‘Well, now you know why I didn’t tell you – or anyone else for that matter, about my real age – it was a secret!’
‘But—’
‘When Oliver found out he didn’t tell anyone!’ I told him, feeling my eyes start to water. Why was I getting mad at him? I had no right to. Sure, he’d told the principal, but I deserved that at least. But I still felt so irritated.
Arden’s expression hardened. ‘Oliver knew?’
‘He found out by accident,’ I said.
‘For how long?’
Did it really matter? ‘At the end of the first week I was here.’
‘So how come he could know while I couldn’t?’ he demanded, narrowing his eyes.
‘Because he found out by accident! Accident, Arden!’ I cried, giving him a look of disbelief. ‘It’s not like I kept it a secret from you just because! I would have told you if I could.’
‘But you promised me, Harley!’
‘I know! But I had to—’
‘I wouldn’t have told anyone if I knew!’
The lump returned in my throat and I had to swallow it forcefully before I could continue. ‘The problem is that you did tell someone, didn’t you, and now I don’t know what’s going to happen. Have a good morning, Arden.’
‘Harley!’
It took all I had to ignore Arden calling after me as I escaped into the hallway that led to my classroom. Fortunately, he didn’t follow me. I knew I shouldn’t be mad at him – he didn’t do anything wrong. It was always me. Yes, he had told the principal my true age, but I had known what I was getting into, and it was only right that I stopped working here. Maybe I was just upset about the fact Arden had told my secret before even talking to me about it?
Sighing, I opened the door to my classroom – the classroom – for the last time.
‘Ms Allen?’
My heart leaped into my throat and I glanced toward my desk, where Zak was standing. I stepped back in surprise, nearly tripping over my feet. ‘Zak!’ I glanced back into the hallway. Maybe I could run . . .
‘Wait, wait! I’m not angry!’ he told me, giving me an earnest look. ‘Really. I totally understand why you had to hide your age.’
‘So you know?’ I asked rhetorically, stepping in fully and closing the door.
He grinned. ‘Yeah, I do now. We all do. It’s kind of surprising, though. I actually believed you were twenty-two.’
‘You’re not mad?’
‘Not at all!’ he told me, shaking his head. ‘I’m actually pretty upset. We’re going to miss you.’
I strode across the rest of the room and threw my arms around him. ‘I’m going to miss you too, Zak.’
He rubbed my back. ‘Hey, we’ll still be friends.’
Just as I pulled away, the door to the classroom opened and Tucker and Melissa entered. Melissa came straight over to me and gave me a hug. ‘Oliver told me. Are you OK? What’s going to happen?’
‘I . . .’ My eyes drifted to the door again, where Oliver was hovering.
‘Going to jail, you little delinquent?’ he asked, trying to sound teasing, but coming off serious. He entered the room a little more, but still hovered by the door.
I shook my head. ‘No. Somehow I’m off the hook.’
Everyone looked visibly relieved. Tucker patted my shoulder. ‘You’re going to have one bad-ass story to tell everyone one day.’
His comment surprised a laugh out of me. ‘Oh, definitely.’
‘Does that mean Ms Dawson is coming back then?’ Melissa asked, wrinkling up her nose. ‘She won’t be half as good as you, Ms Allen.’
‘Call me Harley,’ I insisted. ‘You guys really don’t care that I lied to you?’
‘You had your reasons,’ Tucker said. ‘And’ – he cleared his throat, pink tainting his cheeks – ‘I’m glad you came here, otherwise we wouldn’t have met.’
My chest seized up with emotion. ‘Oh, Tucker.’
‘Hey, don’t cry on me—’
‘I’m so lucky to have friends like you guys,’ I sniffed, doing my best not to start crying. ‘Promise me we’ll still hang out.’
‘Definitely,’ they chorused.
I didn’t know how I deserved to have friends like them, but I was eternally grateful.
Before anyone else could say anything else, the classroom door swung open yet again. Everyone’s heads turned to it, and after a second Arden appeared. He blinked, realizing all the attention was on him. Before I could process what was happening, Oliver was slamming Arden into the wall. ‘What did you do, Arden?’ he demanded, holding the shocked boy against the wall. ‘Do you really hate Harley that much?’
‘Wait!’ I cried. ‘Oliver, back off!’
Oliver sent me an exasperated look, but let go of Arden. Arden pushed away from the wall, sending Oliver an apologetic look, and I moved between them for safe measures, my back to Arden.
‘I didn’t know it was such an important secret,’ Arden told Oliver.
‘Save it,’ Oliver snapped. ‘I hope you realize you cost Harley the job she needed.’
There was a moment of silence and it made me want to turn around and see Arden’s expression. ‘I know,’ he finally sighed. ‘I just wanted to come in and say I’m sorry. I’ll go.’
I took a deep breath, turning to him. ‘Wait—’
He gave me a small smile. ‘It’s OK. We’ll talk later, all right?’
‘We can talk now—’
‘I have to go talk with the principal real quick,’ he told me. ‘Bye, Harley.’
I opened my mouth to stop him, but he was already slipping out the door. ‘Arden . . .’
‘He’s just upset he messed ever
ything up,’ Tucker spoke up. ‘Give him some time.’
I frowned. ‘But—’
Zak nodded. ‘And he’s probably a little embarrassed too. Just give him some space.’
‘Will he really be all right?’
A reassuring hand appeared on my shoulder. ‘Didn’t I tell you everything would be OK?’ Oliver asked. ‘Take a look around you. All your friends are here for you.’
I did take a look around me. And four of the most beautiful faces stared back at me: the faces of four of my best friends.
‘We’ve got your back,’ Zak said.
‘We won’t tell anyone else about this, either,’ Tucker added.
‘Your secret is safe with us,’ Melissa promised.
And suddenly I felt like everything was going to be OK.
Chapter Twenty-seven
‘Hello, Harley, this is Sarah Goyle from SuperSaver calling about your job application.’
I froze, turning in the direction of the messaging machine. This was it, my latest try at a job . . .
‘We’re sorry, but I’m afraid we are looking for someone a little older and more experienced for—’
With a sigh of impatience, I slammed the button down. ‘You said the exact same thing three months ago! You’re even the same person! You could at least change it up a bit,’ I muttered angrily, returning to sweeping the kitchen. ‘Geez.’
‘Pig! Pig!’ Elliot cried from his room. ‘Olive and I are hungry!’
‘Well, then you and Olive can come out and get food by yourselves,’ I called back, rolling my eyes. ‘You aren’t helpless.’
A few moments later Oliver and Elliot appeared in the kitchen, Oliver smirking. ‘But you are,’ he said, responding to my earlier comment. ‘The phone rang earlier. Was it someone from somewhere?’
‘Well, obviously it was someone from somewhere, Oliver.’
He gave me a sarcastic look. ‘Ha-ha.’
‘It was Sarah Goyle from SuperSaver calling me about my job application,’ I told him, mimicking Sarah’s sickly sweet tone. ‘Apparently, I’m still too young.’
‘And your birthday isn’t until the end of January, right?’
‘Right – hey, wait. How’d you know that?’ I asked curiously, cocking an eyebrow. ‘I don’t recall telling you that.’
Oliver shrugged. ‘It was on your driver’s license.’
‘You remember from that long ago?’
‘Obviously.’
My birthday . . . it was only a few weeks away. A few weeks and then I could get my inheritance and my life would be all set. I was so close. And maybe I had enough saved to make it until then, but I still wanted to find a job, just to be safe.
‘When are you leaving?’ I asked, glancing at the clock. It was already seven o’clock and Oliver had been here pretty much all day.
‘Never!’ Elliot chirped, clinging to Oliver’s leg. ‘Olive can live with us.’
I shook my head at Elliot. ‘No he can’t, Eli.’
‘Technically I could,’ Oliver mused, ‘since I’m eighteen.’
Elliot’s eyes widened and he sucked in a large breath of air, looking like he was going to burst with excitement. I shot a hard look at Oliver, who was chuckling at Elliot’s demeanor.
‘Oliver’s not living with us, El,’ I told him.
My little brother deflated like a balloon. His shoulders sagged, and he let out his breath, his face turning into a pout. ‘Why not?’
‘What do you want to eat?’ I asked him, ignoring his question. ‘Cereal?’
‘No.’
‘A sandwich?’
‘No.’
I turned to give Elliot an annoyed look. ‘Then what do you want?’
‘Whatever Olive wants.’
‘You do know his name is Oliver, right?’ I inquired, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile.
Elliot gave me a blank expression. ‘Olive is Olive . . .’
‘I’m not very hungry,’ Oliver stated, crossing his arms.
‘Then neither am I!’
I sent Oliver a meaningful look. He asked. ‘Fine. I’m hungry.’
‘Me too!’ Elliot cried excitedly.
‘What do you want then?’
Oliver gave me a small smirk. ‘What do you have?’ he drawled, leaning against the counter. ‘I’m picky.’
‘We don’t have much,’ I told him, opening the fridge and peering into it. ‘I need to go to the grocery store . . .’ The thought brought a frown to my face. The grocery store meant spending money – money I needed.
‘You know, my dad said you could have more hours at the bar if you want,’ Oliver told me.
I shook my head. ‘Other workers have those nights.’
‘Trust me, there are hours for you. And my dad feels terrible about what happened, so he’ll definitely give them to you.’
‘I mean, if it comes down to it, I’ll take it. But none of this was his fault, and he knows that, right?’
Oliver nodded. ‘He knows it was Arden’s fault.’
‘What? It wasn’t Arden’s fault!’
‘Well, he did tell on you. Speaking of which – any news from the principal?’
I shook my head. ‘Nope, all clear still.’
‘That’s good.’
‘But it’s still not Arden’s fault.’
‘You’re blinded by your feelings,’ Oliver declared with a shrug.
‘I’m not blinded by my feelings,’ I snapped at him, feeling my face heat up. ‘There are no feelings.’
He gave me a flat look. ‘Don’t lie so blatantly.’
‘Oh, you know such a big word?’
‘Harley.’
‘Look, even if I did, it’s too late now. He’d never trust me the way he did before, and a relationship is built on trust.’
‘Really now?’ Oliver said, a smirk slipping onto his face.
‘What’s that smirk for?’
‘Nothing,’ he responded.
There was a sudden tug at the back of my shirt, and I turned to see Elliot staring petulantly. ‘Pig, I’m hungry . . .’
‘Right, sorry. Do you want soup?’
Elliot turned to Oliver, looking imploring. Oliver sighed. ‘Only if it’s chicken.’
‘How about squirrel?’ I joked, heading to the cabinet.
‘Shut up,’ Oliver snapped. ‘That was when I first moved here. I can say it fine now.’
I cocked an eyebrow, turning back to him. ‘OK, say it.’
He set his jaw. ‘No.’
‘Come on, Olive! Say squirrel!’ Elliot said, pulling on Oliver’s hand. ‘Squirrel!’
Oliver shook his head, keeping his mouth shut. I snorted.
‘You can’t say it now, can you?’
‘Fine,’ Oliver responded in a snippy tone. ‘I’ll say it.’
He hesitated for a moment I laughed. ‘Any year now . . .’
‘Squirrel,’ he finally blurted out.
An awkward moment of silence passed. Elliot slowly turned to me, a confused expression on his face. As soon as I caught sight of it, I couldn’t hold in my laughter any more. ‘Oliver, what? What was that? That didn’t sound like squirrel! That sounded like . . . sounded like—’
‘Let’s hear you talk with an English accent,’ Oliver demanded. ‘Let’s see how good you sound using an accent that’s not your natural one.’
I immediately sobered up. ‘No, I can’t . . .’
‘Just a simple sentence. What do you Americans like to say in a British accent . . .? Ah, yes. Hello, guv’nor.’
Shaking my head, I turned back to the cabinet, pulling out a can of soup. ‘I’m not good with accents,’ I told him, moving to the next cupboard to fetch a pot. ‘Especially British ones.’
‘A spot of tea for the guv’nor,’ Oliver commented from behind me. ‘Cheerio. Tea. Crumpets. Biscuit.’
I turned to scowl at him. ‘I liked you better when you rarely talked.’
‘Well, I like being myself around you, so sorry if it bothers you �
� there aren’t that many people I feel comfortable enough around,’ he responded in a casual manner.
I almost dropped the pot on the stove, then turned to survey him carefully and he returned my gaze with a questioning one. Before he could say anything, I faced forward again, feeling warmth spread across my cheeks. Oliver felt comfortable enough around me to be himself?
‘Hey, Oliver?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Thanks for the other day at the school . . . you know, for gathering everyone,’ I said, keeping my back to him. ‘I figured it was you.’
‘It’s no problem,’ he responded nonchalantly.
‘It may be no problem to you, but it means a lot to me,’ I told him, trying to pull the top of the can of soup off. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there.’ Frowning, I pulled harder on the tab.
‘Let me do that,’ Oliver suggested, reaching his hands around me and taking the can out of my hands. ‘And you would have done fine, Harley. You’re a strong person.’
‘Obviously not strong enough to open a can,’ I muttered, very aware of his arms around me.
He opened the can of soup with ease and retracted his arms, much to my dismay. He dumped its contents into the pot as I stared at his long, slim fingers. When he put the can down, my hand involuntarily grabbed his free one and his hand froze. I realized what I was doing and quickly let go.
‘S-sorry,’ I stuttered, holding my arms tightly at my sides.
Suddenly our hands were together again, this time due to Oliver. He turned me around, giving me an expressive look. ‘Don’t apologize.’
‘But——’
‘Harley, I like you,’ Oliver said, frowning slightly. ‘Don’t apologize for something like that.’
‘I like you too, Oliver,’ I responded, putting my free hand over our enclosed hands. ‘Especially this honest side of you.’
‘But . . .?’ he prodded.
‘How’d you know there was a but?’
Oliver rolled his eyes. ‘If there wasn’t a but, you wouldn’t have pulled your hand away so quickly.’
‘I don’t want a relationship until I get another job or my inheritance,’ I told him in a rush.