Forsake

by Andrea Pearson

  Tiffany didn’t respond—she was studying the dress. “Can you make it longer? The length isn’t right for the shoes. And I don’t like the way you’ve placed the organza. It needs to drape to her right side.”

  Mr. Finucci began unpinning the hem that he’d spent twenty minutes putting up. Nicole’s opinion was that the high heels and the length of the dress were perfect together, but Tiffany, of course, wouldn’t admit it even if they were perfect. She liked having things to nitpick—liked feeling superior to everyone around her.

  Nicole watched Mr. Finucci, wishing she could apologize for her mother’s behavior, but knowing it would only result in more bad behavior. Instead, she pushed her irritation aside and decided to let her thoughts wander.

  Finally, over an hour after Tiffany arrived, the fitting was finished and Nicole declared ready to attend the ball the next evening. She felt her stomach twinge again, but she tried to ignore it. Stupid nerves.

  Nicole drove home, grateful for the chance to be away from Tiffany for a while. Tiffany had inherited a great deal of money as a child, and Dad’s businesses had been very successful. As a result, Nicole had everything she’d ever wanted growing up. Instead of enjoying it, though, she resented it. She would rather have gone to bed hungry as the daughter of parents who cared for her than have a mom who disliked her and a dad who was never home. When he was home, he was distant and unapproachable. He would hug or kiss her occasionally, but he allowed Tiffany’s verbal abuse to continue. And even though Tiffany made sure her children were well cared for physically, she didn’t like being emotionally close to them. It wasn’t just Nicole, though she definitely got the brunt of the bad behavior.

  Nicole knew there had to be reason for all this, but by the time she reached junior high, she no longer cared to find out. Instead, she started fighting for independence—for the chance to spend time with Lizzie and Lizzie’s family, and especially for the opportunity to make money so she could go to college, support herself, and never deal with her mother again.

  Once she reached high school, Tiffany had finally agreed to let her find a job. Nicole now worked three of them. She stocked books at the library, made deliveries for a florist, and was a research assistant at a small medical facility. She’d only recently found out that Dad pulled some strings to get her the research and library jobs, but the flower one, she’d gotten on her own. The owner didn’t even know who her parents were.

  The familiar streets of Dallas, Texas, passed by, and soon Nicole entered Lucas, a small suburb of the bigger city. She approached the estate she’d been raised in, punched in a code at the gate, and waited patiently as the doors opened. Once inside the house, she ran up the back staircase to the second floor and walked to her bedroom, hoping her mother wouldn’t come up to talk.

  Chapter Three

  A bouquet of red roses and white daisies waited for her on her desk. Nicole squealed, dashed across the room, and picked up the bouquet. A note accompanied them.

  I can’t wait to see you tonight.

  Nicole smiled, raising the flowers to her nose and breathing deeply. Conor had been doing things like this since their first date two weeks earlier. It was nice to be spoiled by someone who cared.

  She pulled her phone out of her purse and sent a picture of the flowers to Lizzie, asking if Lizzie would be able to sneak over before the date. Her response came quickly—Wish I could. Mom’s lecturing me about my grade in math. The flowers are gorgeous. See you tonight.

  Nicole grinned. Lizzie had the perfect family. Siblings who cared for each other and squabbled a lot. Parents who were involved—sometimes to the point of driving their kids crazy, but they always showed how much they cared, and they’d practically adopted Nicole as one of their own. It had pretty much saved Nicole’s life.

  ***

  Conor picked Nicole up promptly at five. He was never late, and Nicole appreciated that. Instead of Dad being there to greet the guy, her older brother, Derek, did it. He and Conor joked around, and Derek only had to remind Conor once about the guns Dad owned. As if Dad would ever shoot anyone. The thought made Nicole chuckle.

  Derek gave Nicole a hug, told her to have fun, then watched as Conor took her hand and led her to his car. Nicole waved to her brother while Conor opened the door. What her parents lacked in the care department, Derek had in abundance. She loved that he’d always looked out for her.

  “So,” Conor said as they fastened their seatbelts, “I still haven’t met your mom and dad.”

  Nicole tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to gather her thoughts and figure out what to say. Several sassy remarks flew through her mind, but she doubted any of them would really match how she felt about Conor meeting her mom. She didn’t want to scare him away.

  Instead, she smiled and said, “That’s what tomorrow is for.” She took his hand. “I’m excited for tonight.”

  Conor grinned at her, making her stomach do somersaults, helping her forget the lingering nausea. She’d take happy butterflies over angry ones any day.

  “Me too,” he said. Then he turned and focused his attention on driving

  On their first date, when she realized he didn’t like to talk while driving, she’d been uncomfortable with the silence that filled the car. She couldn’t understand why he couldn’t do both at the same time. Now, though, the silence was pleasant, and she watched the streets of Lucas speed past her window as they approached Dallas where both Lizzie and Conor’s friend lived.

  They picked up Lizzie’s date first. Nicole’s mouth popped open when she saw him, and she struggled to hide her astonishment. He was older—much older than she’d expected. Rather than being eighteen or nineteen, he looked to be in his mid-to-late forties. His temples were starting to gray, he had age spots on his hands, and his face was weathered and worn. What was Conor thinking? Did he really assume it would be okay to set up a high schooler with a guy that old?

  Instead of the comfortable silence they’d enjoyed in the car on the way to Luke’s house, the atmosphere was sticky and weird. Nicole glanced at Conor with her eyebrow raised, hoping he would look at her and see the question on her face. He didn’t, though—he just kept driving. Neither Luke nor Nicole said anything.

  They finally reached Lizzie’s house, and Nicole insisted on all three of them going to the door to pick her up. There was no way Brenda would be okay with Lizzie going out with a forty-something-year-old.

  Sure enough, Lizzie’s mom was shocked and hesitant, but when Conor reassured her they’d be fine, she finally relented, telling them to be careful.

  It wasn’t until they got in the car that Nicole realized she didn’t know anything about Luke and hardly anything about Conor. She’d never been to Conor’s house, never met his family, and didn’t even know what his hobbies were, other than singing. She felt her stomach twist as she considered the situation she’d placed herself and her best friend in that evening.

  Lizzie—always Lizzie—found a way to break the awkwardness and keep the conversation going, and Nicole tried to relax.

  Once at the thrift store, they found the ugliest outfits possible, trying them on for each other and taking pictures. When they were done with the clothes, they went to the appliance section and messed around with old computers from the eighties and other things that Conor and Luke were both thrilled to find, but which Nicole and Lizzie only laughed at. Then they finished off the evening with pizza.

  Luke ended up being the life of the party, and he and Lizzie really seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Nicole only felt the stabbing nausea a couple of times, and she was grateful for that.

  The date didn’t go long—Conor and the girls had school the next day. They dropped Lizzie off first, and then took Luke home. The moment Luke was safely inside his apartment, Nicole turned to Conor. “Okay,” she said, “how old is Luke?”

  Conor flushed, not looking at her. “He’s probably as old as you’re thinking.”

  “You realize Lizzie’s in high school, right?”
r />   “She’s eighteen,” he said defensively.

  Nicole rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to argue with him.

  Conor finally exhaled in exasperation. “Look, he was the only single guy I could find on such short notice.”

  Nicole hadn’t been aware that the date had been short notice—he’d asked her out several days ago—but again, she didn’t argue. “You know, we didn’t need to double.” As much as she’d enjoyed spending time with Lizzie and Luke, she wouldn’t have minded being alone with Conor.

  He looked at her, his honey-brown eyes glowing. “You would’ve been okay with that?”

  “Of course. Our first two dates were alone.”

  Conor grinned and reached over to take her hand. “Fine, then. No more middle-aged dates for your best friend.”

  Nicole shook her head and laughed. She couldn’t believe Conor had actually set Lizzie up with someone that old. But the date was over, and no harm had been done, thank goodness.

  On the doorstep next to the garages, Conor kissed Nicole’s cheek before walking back to his car. She pushed the door open, shaking her head. Three dates, multiple phone calls, tons of texts, and still just a peck on the cheek. What was wrong with him? Was something wrong with her?

  Nicole finished a quick homework assignment, then went to bed. Hopefully, the next day would go well—on top of the ball, she’d nearly forgotten she’d been asked to play a cello solo piece at the Senior Accomplishment Assembly. It was going to be a busy day.

  When Nicole woke up Friday morning, the nausea that plagued her before had intensified. She rushed to the bathroom several times, expecting to throw up, but nothing ever happened. She was tempted to call in sick, but knew they would have to reschedule the assembly, and Nicole refused to do that to everyone. Especially when she didn’t think she was really sick—it was just nerves for the ball.

  Wanting to look her best while feeling her worst, Nicole picked out her favorite pair of slacks that were approved by the school and a top that was both attractive and feminine while still being soft, comfortable, and also school approved. The outfit made her feel at peace.

  Nicole was standing on the porch when Conor arrived. The skies were cloudy and overcast, uncommon for Dallas in April, and the brisk wind and smell of rain made her feel melancholy.

  Conor started up a conversation the moment they were inside the car, and he continued it as he drove to school. She couldn’t help but stare at him in surprise. He was talking while driving? What was up?

  They pulled into the school parking lot, where Conor parked his five-year-old Porsche. Before Nicole could even grab her backpack and reach for the door handle, Conor had dashed around and flung the door open for her. He reached inside, took her hand, and pulled her to her feet. He put his arms around her, nestling his face into her neck and breathing deeply.

  “You smell good,” he said.

  Nicole tried not to feel self-conscious as other students walked past them, averting their eyes. “Uh . . . thanks.” She didn’t mind his touch, but why the parking lot?

  He nibbled along her jawline, his touch gentle and deliberate, making her knees weaken. Then he did something Nicole totally didn’t expect. He placed his lips squarely on hers. Her eyes widened, and it took a moment for everything to register. Then she melted in his arms, returning the kiss. She couldn’t believe he was finally kissing her!

  He pulled back several moments later, a large grin on his face, and rested his forehead on hers. “I can definitely see us going places,” he murmured.

  Nicole tried to hide her grin but totally failed. “Can you?”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never dated an Arete before.” He said it “Ah-Reet.”

  Nicole groaned inwardly. “It’s pronounced ‘Ah-reh-TAH.’ And please, please tell me that isn’t the only reason you’ve been asking me out. Because I hate to disappoint you—I haven’t even Restarted yet.”

  “Yeah, but you can still do cool things with magic, right?”

  “No. Not at all. Aretes’ powers don’t come until they Restart.”

  “Okay,” he said, kissing her in between words. “Well . . . let me know . . . when that . . . happens.”

  Even though Nicole enjoyed the attention he was giving her, she couldn’t help but wonder why he chose the school parking lot for their first kiss. And why he hadn’t answered her question about dating her because she was an Arete.

  He took her hand and escorted her to biology, where Lizzie waited at their assigned table. After another kiss—on the lips—he waved goodbye and left.

  The moment he was out of earshot, Lizzie squealed. “He finally kissed you! I saw! I saw!”

  Nicole smiled, motioning her best friend to quiet down. “The entire school probably did.”

  “How was it?”

  Nicole thought for a moment before responding. She’d been so surprised at first, she hadn’t been able to think. “Good. It was good.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Lizzie said as their teacher started writing on the board. “How are you feeling, by the way? You look a little pale.”

  “My stomach is still upset. I don’t know what my deal is—I’ve never been like this before a performance or a ball.”

  The bell rang just then, and their teacher turned from the board. Nicole sighed.

  Nicole’s nausea increased exponentially during biology, and by the time she was about to meet up with Conor for second period and the only class they had together—English—she could barely walk. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to stay at school, other than the assembly. Thank goodness it would be right after English. But would she make it? She trailed a hand on the wall as she continued toward class, trying to keep her balance, and seriously began doubting it.

  Nicole stepped into the classroom and saw Conor sitting at her desk, where he’d obviously been waiting for her. He got up, met her at the doorway, put his arms around her, and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth.

  “You’re not looking so good,” he said.

  Nicole shook her head. She didn’t have the energy to be annoyed that everyone was saying that.

  Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. Was she about to Restart? Was this how it went?

  The question been barely formed in her brain when that morning’s breakfast suddenly erupted through her mouth. As wave after wave of vomit came up, spraying across the teacher’s desk, Nicole was too sick to feel mortified.

  Right when she felt like she was about to throw up her stomach, she passed out.

  Chapter Four

  Nicole blinked, trying to remember how she ended up on the floor in English. Lizzie hovered over her with a worried expression. What was she doing here?

  With a groan, Nicole tried to sit up, but failed miserably—she could barely move her head. She stared at her best friend. “When did you get here?”

  “Hate to tell you this,” Lizzie said, “but everyone is already talking about it. I heard about it, like, ten minutes ago.”

  “Ten minutes?” Nicole asked, putting a hand to her head. “How—how long was I out?”

  Lizzie’s eyes strayed to the clock, and Nicole’s followed. She blinked. Class was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She struggled to a sitting position, refusing to stay on the floor a moment longer, all too aware of the eyes on her. Obviously, the janitor had already come—the floors were clean, a crisp, antiseptic smell lingered in the air. She definitely wanted a shower, but at least she didn’t smell too much like throw up.

  Several students backed away as she reached for her purse, her eyes roving the room for Conor. He was there, sitting back at her desk on the front row, his eyes on her. The expression of revulsion on his face made Nicole wince inwardly.

  “Conor,” she said. “Hey, I’m okay.”

  He didn’t respond—didn’t make eye contact—but his blush told her he’d heard.

  Nicole felt her face redden. Everyone wa
s watching them. With Lizzie’s help, she got to her feet. She reached out to Conor. “I’m not contagious—I promise.”

  Instead of taking her hand, he scrambled to get out of and around the desk, keeping it between them. “Don’t! Stop it.”

  Nicole frowned. “Is that how you’re going to be over something I couldn’t control? You were so excited earlier to be dating an Arete.”

  He shook his head, not meeting her gaze. His ears and neck were bright red now too.

  Nicole hiked her purse over her shoulder, flipping her hair back. “Fine.” She looked at the teacher. “I’m going to the nurse’s station.”

  Not waiting to see what anyone said or how they reacted to what had happened, Nicole turned and stormed from the room, Lizzie at her heels.

  “The nurse already came and checked on you,” Lizzie said, trying to keep up. “She wanted you to go see her as soon as you woke up—she said you should probably go home.”

  “That stupid, immature jerk!” Nicole said. “And after all the gushing he did about how cool it was to be dating an Arete.”

  “Did he really?” Lizzie asked.

  Nicole nodded. She swallowed several times, trying to ignore the tears that were prickling the backs of her eyes. “I can’t believe that happened. Why did I have to throw up? And why in front of my boyfriend? And why in class, of all places?”

  Lizzie sent her an apologetic glance. “You should’ve seen me trying to convince everyone except the nurse not to call 911,” she said. “It’s a good thing Restarts aren’t dangerous. Otherwise, you’d be in the hospital by now. The nurse agreed with me.”

  Nicole glanced at Lizzie and groaned. “Can you imagine an ambulance being called? Why were they so weird about it? It’s not like everyone hasn’t been waiting for my Restart to happen.”

  “I hate to bring this up, but what about the ball tonight?” Lizzie asked. “You’re probably dateless now.”