by Kirby Hall
He thought of how she looked the last time he’d seen her in the hallway. Her cool stare had changed from blue ice to blazing sapphires in the span of a few seconds. It was the first time he saw her have any sort of emotion other than calm. She was the poster child for calm, cool, and collected. But, he alone seemed to have a way of bringing out the worst in her. Whatever her feelings toward him, it didn’t seem as though she’d told anyone about him, and for that he was grateful.
Chapter 8
Alexa decided to put this day under the crappiest-day-ever file in her mental log. Math, West, Megan. The trifecta of her own personal doomsday. The sun was still leaving its mark on the western horizon as she drove home. The rich hues of orange and purple seemed to be fighting over who could leave the most streaks in the sky. On a different day, she might’ve considered its beauty, but not today.
She couldn’t believe the nerve of that conniving freshman. It never would have occurred to her to screw over a junior or senior for a part. But, she could handle this. She was born to be a professional, and there were sure to be worse things that happened when she was out auditioning for roles on Broadway when the stakes were much higher. She could deal with a freshman. Even one as sneaky and annoying as Megan.
When she put on her blinker and turned down the country road, she spotted a figure walking with his back to her. As if on cue, her heart sped up as nervous energy flowed through her at the sight of West. She knew it was him. For one, he was heading in the direction of the cemetery. She was also ashamed to admit she knew by the line of his shoulders and his profile. One she’d been spending too much time studying over the last week.
She needed to make a decision. She could speed up and act like she hadn’t seen him, or she could own up and apologize now. She sighed and slowed, rolling the window down as she went. She was no coward.
“Hey, West,” she called.
He stopped. “What now, A-money?” He didn’t bother to turn around and look at her.
He wasn’t going to make this easy. Not that she could blame him. She’d been a serious jerk. She opened her door, slid out, and crossed the street. When he continued not to turn in her direction, she sped up and stopped in front of him, blocking his path. His eyes registered her shoes first and then ran up the length of her body. She resisted the urge to tug at her skirt. It wasn’t crazy-short, but the way his eyes raked over her made her wish for jeans.
She cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. I had no right to speak to you the way I did.”
“Whatever. It’s over and done with.”
On second thought, he was making this easy. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now. Not that that’s a good excuse to yell at someone who’s offering their help.”
He raised a hand. “Wait, you think I offered to tutor you? What, so I could spend time in your company or something?” He scoffed. “Listen, A-money, I didn’t offer. Mr. Guin asked, I need one last elective, and the school is going to let me count helping you as charity work or something, so there you go.”
Alexa’s hands balled into fists under her arms. “I see. Well, anyway, I’m sorry for how I acted. I’m usually not a jerk, unlike some people. And stop calling me A-money.”
He grinned at her, clearly pleased with himself for getting her riled up, but she refused to take the bait anymore. She glanced behind her, in the direction he’d been heading, curious as to how far he walked to get to this area. There weren’t many houses out this direction.
“So, when’s your busy schedule going to allow time to get this math done? Or, if you want, I can tell Mr. Guin you’re too busy for his class.”
Alexa’s head snapped back toward him. “I’ll make the time. Just not right after school for the next few days.” She held up a finger. “And, not next Saturday.”
He raised a hand and let it drop as if to say, see there you go, but she cut in before he could argue. “This is the last week of rehearsals before our One-Act play competition. I have to be there.” She hated to sound so desperate, but she had to make him understand.
“Rehearsals for the school play, huh?” He tilted his head to the side. “Didn’t peg you as artsy.”
“Well, it’s not like we know anything about each other.”
“That’s true enough.” He shuffled his feet and looked at her. “What do you propose then?”
“Can we get together after? I know it’s a little late, but it’s all I have. Or maybe on the weekend if that doesn’t give us enough time?”
He broke eye contact and stared into the trees while he made up his mind. She wasn’t holding her breath waiting for his answer, but her foot began to bounce.
“Yeah, okay. After you get out of practice. Why don’t you pick me up out here?”
Alexa glanced around again. “Out here? As in the cemetery or on the side of the road?”
“I’ll wait by the side of the road so you don’t have to stalk me like you tend to do.”
She opened her mouth to argue and then saw his grin. Air whooshed out of her lungs and then she grinned, too. “Okay, then.”
“Okay, then.” He stepped around her and started walking.
She crossed back to her car and watched his retreating back as the last rays of the sun snuffed out in the distance.
~ ~ ~
“Hey, punk. You eat yet?” Alexa couldn’t pass up the chance to ruffle her brother’s curly brown locks on her way past his stool.
He stopped drawing long enough to swat her hand away. “Yeah, like two hours ago.”
Alexa stuck her tongue out at him and opened the refrigerator. A carton of leftover Chinese sat waiting inside. She started to sniff it, but considering how hungry she was, she was probably going to eat it no matter what, so she didn’t bother.
“Is Dad in his office?”
“Yeah, he’s been in there all afternoon.”
Alexa slid onto the stool next to Graham’s. He was ten years younger than she was and small for his age, but talented beyond his years.
“That’s good,” she said around a mouthful of noodles after studying her brother’s latest drawing. He was the artist of the family. She would be the first to admit she didn’t have any artistic ability whatsoever. He’d inherited his curls and his talents from their mother.
He shrugged the way he always did when someone complimented him.
“How was school?”
“It was okay.” His lips pressed together in a straight line and he scrunched up his nose as he added a few more lines to the oak tree in the center of the page. “Do you have a teacher named Mr. Guin? Or, Goin? Or, something?”
Alexa paused with her fork in midair causing half the noodles to fall off and back into the container. “Why?”
“He called earlier and talked to Dad.”
“And?”
“And what? That’s all I heard before he shut the door.”
Alexa pushed the box of food to the side and laid her forehead against the cool marble countertop. Right when she thought the day couldn’t get any worse. She was stupid not to have seen this coming. She was failing a class. Of course, Mr. Guin called to tell her dad.
“Are you okay?”
She rolled her head to the side and looked at her brother. “Ask me again tomorrow.”
Later that night in her room, she moved her cell phone from one ear to the other. “I’m telling you the truth. You can’t make this stuff up.”
“Dude, I’m sorry I can’t help you, but you know math isn’t my strongest subject.”
“As if my dad would let you help me anyway. He’d never believe we’d get anything done.” Alexa leaned back into her pillows, her bedroom sprawling out before her.
“He might not be wrong on that count,” Bekah said. “So . . . you an
d West, four days a week. Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Tell me about it. Let’s get away from my crappy day. How was yours?”
Bekah hesitated. “Jay stopped by for a little while before Mom got home from work.”
Alexa closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer. “How was that?”
“Fine. He had to go before dinner. Said he had to work.”
A knock sounded on her door. “Alexa,” her dad called.
“Hey, I have to go. See you tomorrow?”
“Good luck.”
Alexa hit the end button and tossed her phone to the side as her dad pushed the door open. He didn’t look mad, but then again, he was an attorney with the uncanny ability to hide his true feelings.
He moved inside and shut the door behind him, still wearing his suit from earlier in the day, but he’d ditched his shoes and tie. “Alexa, I got a call from your teacher.” He stuck one hand in his pocket and began to walk around the perimeter of her room as he spoke. She imagined this is what he looked like when he was questioning a witness on the stand.
“Mr. Guin?” she asked.
He stopped pacing long enough to pause and glance at her. “Yes. He’s explained the situation to me. I’m not sure I agree with his choice to have another student tutor you. I told him I’d be more than happy to hire a professional, but he seems to think this other student is more than capable.” Her father sighed. “Why didn’t you come to me with this?”
Alexa shrugged, wishing she could disappear into her pillows. “I don’t know.” The truth was she did know, but how was she supposed to go to a man and tell him that even though he was brilliant and gave her anything and everything she could possibly need or want, she was still a failure?
“Well, what’s done is done.” He faced her full on. “Now, it’s time for you to stop being silly and get to work. You will study here so I can make sure you’re holding up your end of the deal with your teacher. You will also be taking a break from Performing Arts effective immediately.”
“But Dad, we have regionals next week, and I’m the lead.”
“You have an understudy, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then, you can step down.”
Alexa slid off the side of her bed and stood. “Dad, I just need the week and it’ll be over. Let me do this. Please.” Tears were beginning to burn at the back of her eyes, but she held them back.
“You need to concentrate on what’s important.”
“I am,” she said, her voice becoming a shout. “This is important to me. Why can’t you understand performing is what I want to do? Not be some sort of stiff sitting behind a desk.”
“Alexa, you will watch your tone with me young lady.”
Her face filled with a rush of heat.
“You’ve heard what I have to say and it’s final,” her father said in his business voice before turning on his heel and leaving. The full-length mirror on the back of her door swung from side to side, her pitiful reflection staring back at her.
The tears she’d been holding back broke free, leaving trails of mascara in their wake. She knew her father loved her, but he didn’t know her. He didn’t understand how he was crushing her.
Chapter 9
West waited on the side of the road and fought the urge to stick his thumb out as Alexa approached. He felt like a hobo begging for a ride so why not play the part? She slowed and then eyed him while he moved around the front, the urge to bolt tugging at him.
The upholstery inside the car was spotless and it smelled of new car mixed with something floral. He glanced down at his clothes, wishing there was a way to keep them from touching the seat. Everything about the car and Alexa made him feel like a dirty smudge on a white marble floor. She was wearing pants instead of a skirt for once, but looked more like she was on her way to a fancy dinner than on her way home from school.
When she smiled at him and pulled onto the road, he cleared his throat.
“So, where to? The library? Coffee shop?” he asked, trying to pull his mind away from his own awkwardness.
“My house.”
He swore under his breath.
“It’s no biggie. It’ll just be us and my brother, but he won’t bother us.” She glanced at him. “That’s okay, right?”
“Sure, no problem.”
They drove in silence most of the way with music he didn’t recognize playing softly in the background. He watched out the window as the neighborhoods they passed changed from middle-class to upper-middle to those living in the one percent bracket.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you do out there in the cemetery?” She glanced at him. “I mean, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together and I’m picking you up there. I thought maybe we could talk like friends.”
He snorted. “We aren’t friends.”
She rolled her shoulders and kept her eyes on the road. “I’m sorry I asked.”
He wasn’t trying to be a dick, but he wasn’t looking to spill his guts to her either. They had nothing in common and sharing his life story wasn’t going to fix it. There was something about her that made him defensive. Maybe her self-assurance or ego, he wasn’t sure. And, it didn’t matter.
Alexa slowed the car and it dipped as they began their ascent up the steep driveway. The house standing at the top looked more like a hotel than a personal residence. He half expected an armed guard or a couple of attack dogs to step into their path. The two-story stucco house, complete with a fountain in the center of the turnaround driveway was enough to have him shaking his head. It was exactly what he’d expected.
They climbed out of the car and entered the house through a side door attached to the three-car garage. West stared around the gigantic white kitchen and shoved his hands into his pockets. The place didn’t even look as though anyone lived there. More of a setting out of a magazine than a home. Where was their stuff?
“Hey, punk.” Alexa said. “This is West. West, this is my brother, Graham.”
West stopped staring long enough to nod at the kid. He was younger than West had expected and he was scrutinizing him. He, too, seemed to realize West didn’t fit in around there, but Alexa either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Is Dad here yet?”
“No, but he called. He has to work late.” Graham dropped his gaze to the paper in front of him and went back to doing whatever he was doing. “Maria left some food.”
“Sweet.” Alexa kicked off her shoes and pulled open a massive refrigerator door. He hadn’t realized it was there. It was camouflaged like another cabinet. West tried not to notice her curves when she bent over to get something off the bottom shelf, but failed.
“You want something? There’s chicken pot pie in here. Or, maybe a drink?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he said, refocusing his eyes on a painting hanging over a small table off to the side.
“Do you mind if I get something before we get started?”
West shook his head then remembered she wasn’t looking at him. “No, that’s cool.”
“So, you’re the one who’s gonna help Alexa with math?” Graham said from beside him.
He turned his attention to Alexa’s dark haired little brother. “Yeah.”
Graham laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Let’s just say you aren’t the first who’s tried.”
West leaned against the counter. “What happened to the last guy?”
“He ran screaming when Alexa called him incomparable.”
“Incompetent,” Alexa corrected. “And, he was, but that was last year.”
West peered over Graham’s shoulder and saw that he wasn’t doing homework, he was drawing a lady’s face. She looked a little li
ke Alexa, but older. She was laughing and there was a dimple in one of her cheeks.
“How old are you?” West asked before he could stop himself.
“Seven.”
Graham looked up at him. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen. You’re really good.” West looked again, still trying to believe what he was seeing. “Can your sister draw like this, too?”
Graham laughed his high-pitched kid laugh. “She wishes. She can’t even draw a puppy face.”
“Who is she?” West asked and nodded toward the paper.
“Our mom.”
Alexa walked up beside him balancing a plate and holding a glass of water. “If you two are done discussing my shortcomings,” she paused to stick her tongue out at her brother, “we can get to work.”
“Lead the way.” West followed her up the stairs and down a long-carpeted hallway. It appeared the kitchen wasn’t the only room which was magazine spread ready, it was the entire house. Alexa turned into a room on the right and he followed her in. It was easily the size of his living room and there was a large bed against one wall decorated with a frilly purple comforter with flowers. “Your room?”
“Yeah, sit down anywhere.”
His eyes flicked to the bed and then to the floor. Definitely the floor. He sat down and opened his bag, trying hard not to stare around the room and study all her personal belongings. He assured himself he wasn’t interested in what interested her.
She set her plate down and sat cross-legged in front of him then scooped up her hair and tied it in a messy knot on the top of her head. It was the most relaxed he’d seen her, except for the picture he’d seen online. He wondered why she didn’t relax more often.
“So, where do we start?” she said.
An hour later they were both on their stomachs with their heads bent over the same paper. “I swear I haven’t always been this stupid. I was good at math and then for some reason they stuck letters with the numbers and they lost me.”