Secret (Elemental)

by Brigid Kemmerer

  Wow. He’d had no idea.

  He should have been proud. He wasn’t. The pressure clamp on his chest tightened by one notch. One more expectation he had to uphold. If he were like Gabriel, Dr. Cutter wouldn’t have given a crap that he didn’t know the answer in class.

  “Have you started applying for colleges?” said Dr. Cutter.

  Nick’s mouth went dry. “Yeah—a few. I just—” I just have their sealed responses hidden in a drawer. “I haven’t heard back.”

  “University of Maryland has a program that allows a few select students to take college level science and math classes for the spring semester. It’s by teacher recommendation only. It’s an opportunity to get a jump start on an already competitive program.”

  Nick stared at him, unsure where this was going.

  “I’d like to recommend you. But I also need to know you’re focused.”

  Reassure him. Say you’re focused. Or thank you. Say thank you.

  But he couldn’t say anything. A jump start? He was terrified of the prospect of leaving his brothers to start college next fall, and this guy wanted to accelerate that by nine months.

  Dr. Cutter grabbed a cardigan off the back of his desk chair and shivered. “It certainly got chilly in here. Do you have any thoughts?”

  Nick grabbed his bag and stood up. “I need to think about it.” He bolted for the door.

  “Nick!”

  The instinct to obey authority overrode his desire to get the hell out of the classroom. Nick stopped in the doorway, but he didn’t turn all the way around.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you,” said Dr. Cutter, “but make sure it doesn’t damage your chances at a future.”

  His voice wasn’t unkind, and Nick swallowed.

  Then Dr. Cutter added, “I want to make sure I recommend the right student for this opportunity. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly. Thank you.”

  He should have been excited.

  He wasn’t.

  At lunch, he sat with his brothers and their girlfriends, but Hunter and Quinn didn’t show up. He didn’t care what his roommate was up to, but he did care about Quinn. Nick sent her a quick text.

  She responded almost immediately.

  I’m getting study help for US History. I’ll see you later. Can you give me a ride to the studio tonight?

  The studio. Adam.

  He mentally calculated. He was supposed to help Michael on Wednesdays, but they’d be done by seven-ish.

  Sure. 7:45?

  “What’s eating you?” said Chris.

  “Nothing,” said Nick. He set the phone next to his tray and drove his fork into the cafeteria meat loaf.

  Becca leaned in against the table. “Is Quinn okay?” she asked quietly. “She’s really upset about the Elemental stuff.”

  She hadn’t said anything to Nick, but he knew Quinn didn’t want Becca to know how rough her home life had turned. And maybe she was still smarting from the secrets Becca had kept. Nick didn’t necessarily agree with either course of action, but Quinn wasn’t exactly giving him all the details, either. He nodded. “I’ll talk to her. I’m taking her to dance tonight.”

  Gabriel snorted. “Wow, playing chauffeur. Sounds like true love to me.”

  His girlfriend Layne hit him. “Leave him alone.”

  “Will you tell her I’m worried about her?” said Becca. “I don’t—I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  Nick gave her a reassuring look. “I’ll tell her.”

  His phone chimed while he was shoveling a bite of meat loaf into his mouth. Nick reached for it.

  But then Gabriel said, “Who’s Adam? And why is he asking if he’s going to see you tonight?”

  Nick choked on his food.

  Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  His heart beat so quickly that he could swear all the blood rushed away from his head just to keep up with it. For a horrifying moment he wondered if he’d pass out from panic.

  He needed to say something. He needed to say something now before they started guessing.

  They were all staring at him. Because they suspected something?

  No, moron, because you’re choking on meat loaf.

  Did Gabriel sound suspicious? Why would he be suspicious? What did he think?

  “Quinn’s dance partner,” Nick said quickly, wheezing a little. He needed to calm down, but his brain wouldn’t let him stop talking. “He’s auditioning for a scholarship, and she’s helping him.”

  “Why is he asking if he’ll see you?”

  “I don’t know.” Nick shoved the phone in his pocket. “I guess he’s wondering if Quinn has a ride.”

  That was probably sufficient, but he couldn’t look at any of them, couldn’t meet their eyes to see if they’d already guessed his secrets. They hadn’t, right? Or had they? He was going to need to look up.

  If he’d been telling the truth, it would have felt like enough, and he wouldn’t have felt compelled to keep going. But he was lying through his teeth, and he needed to make sure there was no question of his non-relationship with Adam.

  “He’s gay,” he heard himself saying. “Quinn said he has a crush on me. She thought it would be funny to give him my cell number.”

  What the fuck was wrong with him? Did he really say that?

  “That’s not funny,” said Layne. She looked vaguely disgusted.

  “It’s not like that,” said Nick quickly. His shirt felt like it was sticking to the back of his neck. “He knows I’m not. It’s like—it’s a joke now.”

  God, he needed to shut up.

  “It’s creepy,” said Gabriel.

  Nick froze. “Creepy?”

  “A dude hitting on you? Yes. Creepy.”

  Suddenly he wanted to punch his twin.

  Do not pick a fight over this.

  Do not.

  Do. Not.

  “He’s not hitting on me,” Nick said tightly. “He just asked if I’d be there tonight.”

  “No, he asked if he’d see you, which is creepy.”

  “Knock it off,” said Becca. “He’s Quinn’s friend. Nick’s trying to defend him, and you’re being a royal—”

  Chris wrapped an arm around her neck and put his hand over her mouth. “I love you, but please don’t pick a fight I’m going to have to finish.”

  “Oh, I’ll finish it,” Becca said through his fingers.

  “No, I’ll finish it,” Nick snapped. He stood, grabbing his tray so roughly that he almost dropped half his food on Chris. “An asshole,” he said to Gabriel. His throat felt tight, and it hurt to talk. “You’re being a royal asshole.”

  Then he stormed away from the table and slammed the tray onto one of the waiting carts.

  “Hey, Nicky,” Gabriel called after him, “remember what I said about drama?”

  Fuck him. Nick slammed through the double doors leading out of the cafeteria, choking on emotion. He pinched his fingers over his eyes.

  He wished he could take it all back. Adam had trusted him with a terrible secret, and now Nick had crapped all over it. Making what they’d shared into a joke.

  He wanted to storm back into that cafeteria and shake some sense into his brother.

  He wanted to call Adam and apologize.

  He wanted to stop hearing the derision in his brother’s voice. The way he’d said creepy.

  Most of all, he wanted to stop crying.

  Creepy. Creepy creepy creepy.

  Like he was some kind of pervert. He’d known his twin’s rejection would hurt, but he hadn’t realized it would hurt like this, a subtle stabbing a hundred times over.

  Nick ducked into the restroom. Empty. Finally, a break. He went into a stall anyway. He swiped at his eyes and dug his phone out of his pocket.

  There was Adam’s message.

  Will I see you tonight?

  Nick squeezed his eyes shut and had to swipe at them again.

  Then he typed back.

  We’ll be there at 8.
r />   Adam’s response appeared almost immediately.

  Can’t wait.

  Then a second later, another message appeared.

  U OK?

  Nick sniffed. He started to type back, Yeah, fine, but they’d found this path of honesty, and he didn’t want to veer into the unknown.

  Gabriel said gay guys are creepy.

  As soon as he hit SEND, he felt ridiculous. He might as well have typed, My brother is a big meanie. Wah.

  But his phone buzzed almost immediately.

  You told him???

  Oh, shit. No. Nick shook his head, like an idiot.

  No. Said in passing.

  The phone didn’t buzz with a new message. But the end-of-lunch bell rang. Nick sniffed again and got himself together. He spent a minute splashing cold water on his face, until some freshman guys came through the door.

  His phone buzzed before he made it into his next class.

  You are not creepy. You are great good fine. And brilliant and patient and gentle and kind.

  Jesus, he was going to start crying again.

  Before he could, the phone buzzed.

  And frankly, you’re kind of hot. Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off you last night?

  Nick laughed before he could help it.

  He took a seat and hid the phone under his desk, then slid his fingers across the screen.

  You, too, for what it’s worth. And thank you.

  His phone buzzed almost immediately.

  NP. Been there. See you tonight. Don’t be late this time. ;-P

  Nick wouldn’t be.

  CHAPTER 11

  Quinn stumbled into the truck and flung her bag on the floor between her feet. She could barely feel her toes, but somehow she was supposed to spend the next two hours dancing. Her hands slapped over the vents. “Can you turn the heat up?”

  Nick obliged her, reaching over and turning the dial all the way to the right. “You okay?”

  Her fingers hurt from the cold, and she flexed them a few times. “Yeah. I’ve just been outside for a while.”

  He reached over and took her hands, pressing them between his. He brought them to his lips and blew warm air along her fingers. “You should have texted me. What happened?”

  Quinn looked up at him over their clasped hands. His face was close, his blue eyes gentle and intent on hers. His clothes were different from what he’d worn to school, and he looked like he’d shaved again, too.

  He looked amazing.

  A flicker of regret hit her between the eyes. This was so unfair.

  She pulled her hands away. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re late.”

  “I’m not. It’s seven forty. Did something happen?”

  “My brother had his stupid pothead friends over.” Quinn grabbed the seat belt and jerked it across her chest. “I had to get out of there.”

  She’d been lucky to get her dance clothes without being groped. Then her mom had gotten in her face and demanded to know where she’d been last night.

  Why, Mom? Were you conscious?

  At the stop sign at the end of her lot, Nick turned to look at her. “You could have called me. I would have come to get you.”

  “You were working.” She sounded petulant and she didn’t care. She knew he would have come to get her, because that’s what perfect boyfriends did. “Did you dress up for Adam?”

  He gestured down at his clothes. “I wouldn’t call this dressing up.”

  She would. Dark-washed jeans and a forest-green pullover that clung to the muscles of his chest. He’d probably told his brothers he was getting ready for a date with her.

  Quinn looked out the window. She didn’t know what was wrong with her tonight. This felt like jealousy, but that was insane . It had been her idea to keep pretend dating in the first place!

  “Are you mad at me?” Nick sounded puzzled. Almost hurt.

  “No, Nick. I’m not mad.”

  He put an arm out. “Come here. What’s wrong?”

  She was tempted to curl against him and let him stroke her hair or whisper assurances or whatever he was so good at. She didn’t move. “Forget it. It’s fine.”

  He sighed, then swore under his breath. When they came to a red light, she could feel his eyes on her.

  “Please don’t do this,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “You’re the only friend I can talk to. If I’ve fucked something up, just tell me.” He paused. “I know you’re not talking to Becca. What happened?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She asked me about you.”

  “Oh, she remembers me now? That’s awfully sweet of her.”

  “She’s concerned about you. When you said you were all right last night, I thought you were at her place.”

  “Well, I wasn’t.”

  “Where were you? Did you go home?”

  “No, I was waiting out my mom. I was dancing on the trail by the woods.” Part of her didn’t want to talk about this, about any of it. Another part of her wanted to throw everything in Nick’s face.

  God, this sucked. He was too good looking, too nice. Throw supernatural powers in the mix, and it was like fate was playing a cruel joke on her. Maybe next he’d tell her he had a winning lottery ticket in the glove box.

  “You were dancing on the trail? Where?” said Nick.

  “Where you picked me up the other night.”

  Nick blew a loud rush of air through his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. “For god’s sake, Quinn, are you insane?”

  “Probably. Some punk tried to steal my iPod.”

  “You’re lucky that’s all that happened. Tyler lives near there. He could have—”

  “Tyler stopped him.”

  Nick’s jaw tightened. The truck instantly went ten degrees colder. Quinn shivered.

  “Stop it,” she snapped. “I’m already freezing.”

  He turned the vent to high, but it didn’t help much. “What do you mean, Tyler stopped him?”

  It wasn’t until he spoke that she realized this was what she wanted. Fury in his voice. A hint of anger and jealousy and protectiveness. “The kid who stole my iPod. Tyler stopped him before he could take off with it. Then he bought me taquitos and we drank sodas on the roof of his strip mall.”

  She flung the words at Nick like an attack. She didn’t know what she expected from him. A reaction, for sure. But silence captured the interior of the truck cab, thick and hard to breathe. His disapproval hung in the air, pressing against her skin.

  “Please tell me you’re kidding,” he finally said.

  “I’m not kidding. It was fine. He was nice.”

  “He is not nice, Quinn.”

  “Maybe not to you, but he was nice to me.”

  “This isn’t a game!” he snapped. “If he’s being nice to you, it’s so he can use you against me.”

  “Why?” she fired back. “Because I’m only good for guys to use me? That’s working out really great for you, isn’t it, Nick?”

  The air in the cab moved, lifting a few strands of her hair. Nick’s hands clutched the steering wheel like he wished it was Tyler’s neck.

  “Look,” he said, his voice rough and low like gravel. “Tyler is cruel. Destructive. You know this. He hit you in the face and burned your arm and—”

  “He didn’t hit me in the face!”

  Nick gave it right back to her. “Then who did, Quinn?”

  She locked her eyes on the windshield, suddenly afraid she might cry. Air moved through the cab again, warmer now, a caress along her exposed skin.

  It felt ridiculous, but she couldn’t tell him. Like Becca, Nick knew some of what her home life was like, but not enough. They mostly knew what it had been like before: the screaming matches with her mother, the father who seemed to forget he had a family. But since the fire, things had changed. Money was tight, and it was like her parents clung to Jake and his scholarship as if that was the shining st
ar in their lives. Like that put food on the table.

  More likely, keeping her mom away from the liquor store would do a lot more for their family than Jake’s stupid scholarship.

  Not like Jake was making use of that scholarship, the way he kept frying his brain cells every night.

  If Quinn told Nick about how her mother practically drank herself unconscious, or how her brother could barely string a sentence together, but didn’t mind strong-arming her into the wall when he needed twenty bucks, Nick would step in. He’d be the white knight in shining armor. He’d rescue her.

  And then he’d kiss her on her forehead and go off with a knight of his own.

  “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me,” said Nick, his tone resigned. “I can’t believe you think that asshole could be nice—”

  “He was nice,” she said icily. “You know, he still thinks your brother killed his sister. He actually seemed kind of upset about it.”

  “Upset. Yeah, okay.” Nick looked disgusted. “Did he tell you about the time he tried to kill Chris? Or the time he and his friends pinned Michael down in a parking lot and took a butane lighter to his face? Or how about the time he cornered me in the gym and—”

  Nick broke off, breathing fast.

  “And what?” she said.

  “You know what? Forget us. Think about Becca. Just ask her what she thinks of Tyler.”

  Quinn didn’t want to think about Becca. Lately, any time thoughts of Becca entered her brain, a bunch of jealousy and resentment crowded in alongside. “Well, maybe if Becca had been honest all along, I’d already know her thoughts about Tyler.”