And now here she sat in hiding. Hopefully no one would spot her here behind the temporary bleachers set up by the football field. The school had placed them here, close to the end zone on the visitors side of the field about two weeks ago when they realized the overflow of fans wasn’t going to thin out. She still couldn’t grasp that football was such a big deal here. In Chicago only the NFL had been important, but here in this small Georgian town, high school football was an obsession, and its star players like gods.
Lizzie wished again that no one would spot her sitting there under the bleachers and decide that she looked like a good target for after school bully practice. She didn’t think she could handle anymore humiliation just then. She still couldn’t believe that she had actually punched Lou Ann, one of the untouchables, and definitely the meanest one in the bunch. She and Charlie would make a good couple, she decided, and secretly she wished they would never realize that. The trouble those two could make if they teamed up could be disastrous for everyone, especially her.
A few more hot tears trickled down her cheeks and she wiped them away. Her father was going to murder her when he found out what she had done. If she thought her life was bad now, she really didn’t want to see what her life was like when he got hold of her. Ed Benford had never been a violent man in his life, at least not that Lizzie had seen, but he sure could discipline with the best of them, and she hated the thought that he might decide to turn to violence today.
She watched the JV football team as they huddled in the center of the field. So far none of the players had noticed she was there, and she hoped it stayed that way. They were a little too far away to hear what was said, but she noted that all the players circled around the coach and watched him intently. A joint “Break!” went out, and she knew that practice was over.
Good. Only a few more minutes and the field would be all to herself. All the players eagerly grabbed their sweaty gear and headed to the locker room to shower before heading home.
Lizzie scanned the sea of players, wondering how these boys could possibly enjoy such a brutally aggressive and disgustingly macho sport. She supposed that was why guys played instead of girls- they had to prove they were strong enough to survive, whereas girls already knew they were. The ringleader of the sport popped out of the huddle just then, his dark hair matted to his head with sweat, his deep tan a little darker from the heat on his skin. She could envision his green eyes, and a little flutter of excitement rushed through her.
He jogged across the field with such ease that he looked like he had been born to be there, one with the grass and the ball, and the blazing lights. He was home there on that turf. She watched him as he tossed the ball to one of his friends then ran long to catch the pass his friend threw back. Payton laughed, she could hear it echo off the stadium and hit the metal bleachers she sat under. It was a good laugh, she decided, one that made her want to join in with him.
She watched him until he disappeared into the outside door of the locker room and then settled her gaze back on the football field, letting it serve as a backdrop to her unseeing eye, focusing her thoughts inward to the misery that awaited her when she got home. She knew her sister would be looking for her by now, but she didn’t want to see her sister. MC would just remind her of how dead she was going to be when her father found out.
Meanwhile, in the locker room, Payton grabbed his football bag and backpack, said goodbye to his buddies, and exited door to the fading fall sunshine. Some days he liked to go back out to the field after everyone left and practice his passes into the dummy net they had set up. Today he settled for sitting on the curb next to the stairs leading down to the field and enjoying the smells that lingered there. Stale popcorn from last week’s game, fresh cut grass, and sweat were the main scents that hit him as he watched the evening begin to settle in over the field.
A subtle movement off to his right near the end zone caught his attention. For a minute he couldn’t tell what it was, but then he spotted it. The new girl sat underneath the set of temporary bleachers. She sat with her knees pulled close up to her chest, her legs crossed at the ankles, her arms wrapped around her legs like they were the only things holding them on. She was rocking back and forth, her eyes closed, and if he wasn’t mistaken she had tears streaming down her face.
His heart broke. He was only fourteen years old but already tears were his weakness. He hoped to the good Lord above that no one, especially no girls, ever found that out because he could only imagine the ways that information could be used to some wily female’s advantage.
She looked so little and vulnerable, and something inside him made him want to go over and give her a hug. He could only imagine her reaction if he did, though. Especially after watching the way she had defended herself today. She’d probably reach out and slug him, and he couldn’t afford to be beaten up by a girl no matter if he was the most popular boy in school. No boy, no matter how popular or athletic could afford to have that clouding his reputation.
Instead, he stayed where he was and watched her from a distance. She wiped at her tears, seeming to try and fight whatever it was that had upset her. You’re mama’s so crazy that you had to move here to hide her from everyone. Payton wondered if there wasn’t some truth behind that statement that was hurting Lizzie more than she would ever let on. He suspected that was part of the reason behind the tears.
Something about her called out to him, begged him to protect her. Something in the way she sat there huddled like a little lost soul needing salvation more than a beggar needed food spoke to the heart his mama had always told him to use for good. He didn’t know how to go about rescuing her, but he thought about it as he picked up his backpack and headed for home. He thought about it some more that evening as he tried to focus in on the television set in front of him.
Chapter Five
Since about the second week of school Lizzie had begun to focus on her schoolwork with a passion so burning that it made her father wonder if she wasn’t using schoolwork to avoid other areas of her life. But tonight he found her so thoroughly wrapped up in her books that he suspected something fishy going on. He stood in the doorway and watched her work math problems in her notebook so hard that the lead of her pencil broke every few minutes.
Something smelled fishy all right, but he decided to let her sweat it out a little bit longer.
He was about to turn and leave when he heard the phone ring and he watched his oldest daughter jump so high in her seat that she nearly cracked her skull against the plaster ceiling.
Were they having tuna for dinner? Because he could smell fish from a mile away.
Ed Benford stepped into the central hallway of the house and lifted the phone from the receiver. He dragged the phone and its cord back to the doorway where he’d been propped and leaned a shoulder against the frame once again.
“Hello?” His daughter worked another math problem.
“Well good evening Principal Whiteside.” The lead broke on her pencil.
“Oh, this isn’t a social call. Well, what seems to be the problem then?” Lizzie’s face reddened perceptibly.
“She did what?” She sank several inches in her chair.
“Oh, don’t worry Principal Whiteside. I’ll see that she and I talk about it right away.” Lizzie gave up all pretense of studying and turned to face her father.
“Don’t worry. She’ll see you in your office tomorrow morning.” Her eyes went round with shock.
Her father hung up the phone so gently that she knew he was furious. If only he knew, she thought miserably. But how could he ever understand?
He was back standing in her doorway before she even had time to prepare, or even to work up a few good alligator tears in her eyes. It wouldn’t matter, though. Not with how angry he obviously was. She could always tell he was mad when his nostrils flared with each powerful breath he took.
“Mind telling me exactly what you did today?”
“I went to school, came home, and now I’m study
ing?” Flare.
“Wrong. Try again.”
“I got an A- on a test?”
Flare. Flare. “I know you can do better than that, Lizzie.”
“I know, and I talked to Mrs. Strickland and she said she’d give me some extra help after school if I need it.”
FLARE. “Elizabeth Ann Benford.” Uh-oh. “I’m going to ask you one more time, and you had better give me a straight answer.” She swallowed hard. “What did you do today?”
“I’m sorry, daddy!” A single tear dripped down her face. “I didn’t mean to, b-but she kept saying such a-awful things and it... it just happened before I could even think to s-stop it.”
“Who was it that you punched, Lizzie?”
She sniffed and tried to make the tears stay away but she felt another one revolt and trickle down. Stupid tears. “Her name is Lou Ann Hendley, and she’s one of the most popular girls in school, but I don’t know why daddy, ‘cause she’s also the meanest.”
Her father crossed his arms and stared at her blankly. “What did she say to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Now, Lizzie. She must have said something for you to hit her. Otherwise you’re in big trouble little miss.”
She looked hopeful for a minute. “And I’m not if she said something really bad?”
“No, you’re still in trouble either way, but I need to know what she said.”
“I don’t want to say.”
“Lizzie.”
“It’s not that important.” Flare. Okay, maybe it was that important. “Daddy, promise not to get mad if I tell you?”
She saw something flicker in his eyes and she wondered exactly what he was thinking. “Sure, honey. I promise.”
Lizzie waited a minute, then two, before she glanced his direction and sighed. Another tear trickled down. “She said mommy was crazy and that we came here so we could hide her from everyone. She also said that I was already turning out just like her.”
Flare, flare. She knew he was really mad when he clenched his jaw and folded his hands into fists. He crossed the room and opened a fist to hold out his hand to her. “Come here, baby.” He caught her up in his arms. “I love you, sweetheart. You did well today. Thanks for trying to protect your mama.”
Lizzie let out a muffled sob. “You’re not mad at me, daddy?”
“No, sugar, I’m not mad at you. But Mrs. Hendley is a different story, however. She wants full payback for her precious daughter having the first black eye of her life. And two weeks before the HaroldCounty eighth grade beauty pageant at that.” She laughed at the way he made it all sound so trivial.
“Then you’re not going to ground me for life?”
“Look at me, Lizzie.” He waited until she did. “I love you, and your mama loves you, too. We’re family and family sticks up for each other, even when the times are hard. Especially when the times are hard. You’re mama isn’t feeling well right now, and she needs someone to stick up for her. I’m proud of how you stood up for your family today. But...” He made sure she was listening. “Let’s not make a habit of this punching thing, deal?”
She giggled. “Deal.”
“Good. Now tomorrow morning I’m going to go have a word with your principal and get all this straightened out.”
“No detention, either?”
“Well... I can’t guarantee, but I’ll try. Now come on, mama’s made mashed potatoes and turkey and dressing. I think she’s really starting to like this country living thing.”
She’d been trying so hard to figure a way out of her troubles that she’d been too nauseous to eat. But now, her stomach gave a big rumble and she felt like she could eat all her mother had prepared all by herself.
Mary Catherine, the little eaves dropper, had apparently heard every word of their conversation because as Lizzie entered the room, MC gave her a big wink and a thumbs up. They both giggled together for the rest of the meal.
Later that night they sat together on the new wicker swing their mother had painted white and hung on the porch the previous week. Skipper lay between them and snored his little Bichon snores. They licked their cherry-vanilla ice cream cones and let their bare feat rub across the smooth wooden floor that had been lacquered over by their father. The wind that had started to blow cooler in the past few days rustled the leaves on the nearby trees that were starting to turn yellow with fall.
“Did you really punch her right in the eye?” MC asked in awed wonder.
“Yeah. But she was asking for it.” She knew she sounded a lot tougher than she had felt at the time, but she would never forget the rush of adrenaline she had felt after that punch. She hoped she never had to feel anything that gut wrenching again.
“I hope she squealed like a little baby.”
“I think she did, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out.” They both giggled at that and licked their cones.
Just before she faded off to sleep that night she remembered a figure standing off in the distance as she’d run away from the fight. She couldn’t remember who it was until she sat upright in bed, soaked with a cold sweat, at three o’clock the morning. It had been Payton Cartwright.
Had it really been him standing off to the side of the crowd watching what had happened between her and Lou Ann? Had he heard what Lou Ann- the most popular girl in school, and no doubt one of his good friends- what she had said to her? Had he seen what Lizzie did in return? She was mortified. It was bad enough that she had to be the bottom of the barrel of all the kids in school, but she now had to face the fact that she’d just made absolute enemies with all the popular ones.
What must Payton think of her? Who was she kidding? He probably wasn’t thinking anything about her. He was probably too busy consoling Lou Ann about how wicked her attacker had been to think a thing about her.
She wasn’t positive but she assumed this was what it felt like to die.
Chapter Six
“I think I’m too sick to go to school today, mama.” Lizzie coughed pitifully into her hand to try and play up her sick routine. Her mother wasn’t impressed.
“Oh, no. This is awful, Lizzie. Hold on, I’m gonna go get the thermometer and check your temperature.” Lizzie lay in bed and moaned to kick the act into high gear. She thought she heard her mother laugh as she left the bedroom but when she returned she seemed more worried than happy.
“Okay, sweetie. Open up.” Her mother gently placed the thermometer in her mouth and ran a slender, soothing hand over Lizzie’s wild morning hair. “I’ll back in a few minutes to check on you.”
Lizzie waited until her mother left the room and quickly took the thermometer from her mouth to hold it up to the light. When she heard footsteps in the hall she quickly put it back and moaned softly.
“Let’s check the temp. Open up.” Lizzie did as asked.
Her mother made a big show of checking the temperature then made a sorrowful face and said, “Sorry, pumpkin. I might believe a 102 or 103 temperature, but 112 is not going to cut it. Guess you’ll have to go to school and face the music, anyway.”
Lizzie pouted while her mother kissed her check, then dramatically flung her body out of bed and stomped toward the shower. It was going to be the worst day in recorded history.
She dressed in what she felt was an appropriately fitting all black outfit, but was vetoed as she sat down to breakfast. So, she wrapped a striped shirt around her waist to appease the fashion gods, then pulled her backpack over her shoulders and set out to school.
“Hey, wait up, charger!” She knew it wasn’t any of the school kids calling out to her, and it sounded too much like her father to be anyone else. She turned and waited for him, not quite old enough yet to believe that it wasn’t cool to walk with your parents to school. Besides, walking with her father was the least of her worries at the moment.
They walked in silence, her thoughts deeply embedded in exactly how horrible detention would be since she’d never had to experience it before, his thoughts occupied on exactly how
far he could tell Mrs. Hendley to shove it without being outright rude.
Not far, he presumed.
Lizzie found herself sitting ramrod straight in the chair outside of the principal’s office some forty minutes later, twiddling her thumbs and wishing desperately that she couldn’t hear the shouting going on behind the closed door. She could distinctly hear her father’s voice, which was raised and much more harsh than usual, and another prim female voice that she could only assume was Mrs. Hendley. Every once in a while she’d hear an intervening male voice that had to be Principal Whiteside. No other man could quiet a room full of children, or adults for that matter, like Principal Whiteside.
She’d just heard the first four letter expletive float through the crack under the door, when the main door to the front office pushed open. She felt her cheeks flush then flare with heat when a pair of green eyes scanned the room then came to rest solidly on her. The same little jolt and vibration of electricity ran through her that she’d felt the first day of school, and she barely had time to register the feeling before those eyes ripped away from hers.
What the heck was the matter with her? She couldn’t seem to put a finger on the feelings that had started creeping through her recently, but those feelings seemed to run rampant when a particular green eyed boy was in the room.
Boys. Boys were so stupid. She had no idea why God created them, but she knew He must have done it for some good reason because there sure were plenty of them around.
She tried to focus on what was going on behind the principal’s door, but her eyes kept flicking over to check out what Payton was doing. She heard a particularly loud expletive float from the office and winced perceptibly. She blushed involuntarily because it had been her father that had been using the bad words that time around. She didn’t miss the fact that the secretary stifled a quick laugh and then went about typing again on the typewriter.
Whatever Payton had been doing in the office, he seemed to be finished with his mission. He turned to walk to the door of the office, and she awkwardly followed his movements with her eyes. She liked the way he walked: all confidence, but not cockiness. It fit his personality well, she decided.
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