ReCAP
A NORMAL novella
by Danielle Pearl
Copyright 2014 Danielle Pearl Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2014 by Danielle Pearl
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
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Dedication
This one is for all of the incredible readers and bloggers who took a chance on an indie author. I love you all.
Fine, Indeed.
I sit in my usual desk in the second row of Mr. Frank's calculus class, already bored out of my mind not ten minutes into it. Frank goes over formulas I mastered months ago, thank to Bits and her home-tutors. I scowl down at the homework I actually had to take the time to do last night, no less annoyed that Frank is going to screw with my GPA if I don't make up last semester's "laziness" by volunteering as a student-tutor. It's total bullshit. I know the course work, and score nearly perfectly on every test. He's on a goddamned power trip.
I raise my hand and he rolls his eyes.
"Bathroom," I tell him, though really I'm just looking for an excuse to kill ten or so minutes of this boring as hell subject.
Mr. Frank scribbles his signature on a pass and tears it from the pad without ever pausing his lecture or looking away from the rest of the class.
I jump out of my seat, grab it, and head out the door.
But there's someone in the usually empty hall. A girl. A girl crying against the lockers.
Shit.
I try to recognize her, but I don't. I let my gaze skate over her, trying to place her as a freshman or sophomore, but my eyes get stuck on her tight little ass.
I would have remembered that ass.
I mentally shake off my distraction - the girl is fucking crying and I'm checking out her ass. Part of me wants to just wants to continue on my way to nowhere - I don't know this girl, after all - but something has changed in me since Bits had her incident, and I can't just walk away.
"Uh, are you okay?" I ask her. I realize she probably reminds me of Bits, back when she was still down all the time, and that's probably why I feel compelled to help her in some way.
She nods vaguely against the lockers, not even turning in my direction.
Well, that's new. I don't usually have trouble getting a girl to look at me. But her little nod isn't convincing, and I'm pretty sure she's just trying to get rid of me. It makes me even more determined to help.
"You don't look okay. Can I get you something? Or someone? The nurse maybe?" I offer.
I watch as she takes a deep breath, musters what is obviously false confidence, and turns toward me.
"I'm really fine, I just needed a minute," she tells me, squaring her shoulders and stretching her lips into the fakest smile I've ever seen. And I've known Chelsea Printze since birth.
But despite the falseness of her smile, I find myself riveted by her lips. Full, pink, and not an drop of gloss or color on them. I feel a pull in my belly, and I recognize it immediately as attraction. I realize then that she hadn't been crying at all. She's practically gasping for breath, but her eyes are dry - she just seems really, really overwhelmed. Like she's about to panic or something.
I watch her in consternation. She is an enigma - overcome by something that has a sharp hold on her breath, but forcing a gripping strength despite herself.
She trembles as she finally takes a good look at me, but when she meets my eyes, there's a strange calm. And it doesn't just calm her, no, it also does something to me.
She is absolutely beautiful. Big, round, brown eyes. Long lashes, and not those fake ones all of the other girls wear these days. I'm pretty sure she isn't wearing an ounce of makeup. She's flushed with what I'm now pretty sure is anxiety.
She looks down to get something from her backpack, and her trembling gets worse. Something falls onto the floor and I automatically bend to retrieve it. It's a prescription pill bottle, and even though I'm aware of what an invasion of privacy it is, I can't help reading the label.
Aurora Pine, Alprazolam
I frown. I don't recognize the name of the medication, but I do recognize the family. The generic drug name closely enough resembles my mother's diazepam, which she used to take supposedly for anxiety, but really just to help her sleep. It confirms my assumption that she's in the midst of what could very well be a panic attack, and I hand her the bottle.
She opens it and heads for the water fountain down the hall. I follow her, watching as she pops a pill, takes a drink, and then leans back against the wall and closes her eyes.
I watch her, captivated, as her breathing slowly calms and regulates, and her trembling subsides.
Beautiful.
It's a strange thought to have, considering the circumstances, but it's all I can think nonetheless. I shake my head, admonishing myself for the earlier thought that she reminded me of Bits. She's nothing like my sister. This girl, this Aurora, is something else.
Here I am, trying to help, and she doesn't need a bit of it. Held down by panic or not, she can take care of herself, and I feel kind of useless. But I can't bring myself to retreat. I'm beyond intrigued by this strange, gorgeous, tough-girl I found in the hallway, and there's nothing I'm more interested in right now, certainly not calculus.
"Better?" I ask when she seems in control of herself.
Her eyes shoot open and she glares at me, as if she hadn't realized I'd followed her - as if maybe she would have preferred if I'd just gone away. It stings, and I'm not sure why. I don't even know her, and even if I did, since when do I care if some random girl wants me around or not? Honestly, I usually prefer it this way.
But it doesn't daunt me. If anything, it makes me more determined to figure this girl out.
"Fine. Like I said," she replies, not bothering to hide her annoyance. It's almost amusing - that this girl I'd intended to help not only doesn't need it, but is staring at me with a look that says get lost.
For a moment I consider that maybe I should just back off - the girl nearly had a panic attack barely minutes ago, after all. But something tells me that she is fine. Even when she isn't. That this girl can handle anything.
"Why don't I know you, Aurora?" I ask. I sure as hell would have remembered seeing this girl around. There isn't a more attractive girl in the whole damned school. It's not just her tight little body - that sweet round ass, tiny waist, and long, slim legs. But that heart-shaped face - it's like I can't look away. Those lips and eyes, small, upturned nose, it's all just set perfectly - like the face of an angel.
The face of an angel?
I laugh inwardly, completely unable to recognize myself in my own thoughts.
"Rory," she murmurs softly.
Rory. It fits her well. Aurora is a beautiful name, unique, like her, but Rory just makes more sense somehow.
"Wait... how do you know my name?" A hint of fear has crept back into her tone, and I hate it. I don't want her to fear me.
"It was on your..." I don't want to embarrass her by reminding her that I read the label of her medication, but I wa
nt to put her at ease even more. "Um... bottle."
She looks down in shame, and I hate that, too. Fear and shame, two things this girl should never have to feel, especially not from me.
"So why don't I know you, Rory?"
"I'm new," she breathes.
I'd figured as much - it's the only reasonable explanation. It must suck to have to start a new school in the middle of what must be her senior year, considering she was hyperventilating outside of my calculus class and this hallway only has senior classrooms.
"I see. Well, welcome to Port Wood. I'm Sam. Sam Caplan." I inwardly cringe at how dorky I sound, how formal. I may as well pin a "welcoming committee" badge to my shirt and offer to be her student buddy or something.
"Nice to meet you." But her voice is still barely a whisper, and she won't even look at me, and I worry that maybe she's still not feeling very well.
"So, can I, like, walk you to the nurse or something?" I offer, and her gaze snaps to mine, defensive and vaguely hostile.
"No. Like I said, I'm fine. I just need to get to class." She turns away and I grin to myself. Fine, indeed. I make a mental note that the next time Rory seems scared or ashamed, there's one sure-fire way to morph her right back into the tough-girl who can take care of herself - offer her help.
Suddenly my best friend, Tucker Green, comes flying down the hall, even later than usual, which he announces crudely. I notice Rory's reaction to him, though, and it unsettles me. She backs up toward the wall, hunching over subtly, as if she's trying to make herself as small as possible.
Tucker notices her - how could he not - and he stops in front of us. "Well, hi there."
I see him rake her from head to toe with interest. I feel an irrational pang of jealousy. I don't even know this girl, and anyway, Tucker is all about Carl these days, whether he'll admit it or not. But Rory huddles even smaller, and wraps her arms around herself. My instincts tell me to protect her, even from a danger that doesn't exist, and they push me in front of her, guarding her from my best friend for absolutely no reason at all. But she's nervous and I want her to feel safe, even as I question why I'm so deeply concerned for a virtual stranger. Tuck obviously doesn't get it either, and he looks at me all confused.
"Sorry, Tuck, we're late too, gotta get to class," I tell him, and then before I realize what I'm doing, I take Rory's hand and start leading her away.
"Uh, okay. Catch you later, I guess," Tuck says as he continues back toward his economics class.
Rory yanks her hand back as soon as we're clear of Tuck, and I realize that I may have overstepped. Shit. "Sorry," I murmur.
She shrugs.
"He's harmless. Tuck. Tucker," I tell her. "He's just a flirt." I don't want her afraid of me or my best friend, though I don't especially want Tucker anywhere close to her either.
"Whatever. It's fine. I'm-"
"You're fine. I got it." I don't mean to interrupt her, but I don't want to hear her tell me she's fine again, to remind me that she doesn't need my help - that I'm useless to her.
But she looks up at me, and I almost think she looks a bit guilty.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, and then I feel guilty.
"Whatever, it's cool." I try to lighten the mood. "You in my class? Calc?" I gesture to the door.
Rory nods.
"Cool, let's go."
"Didn't you... weren't you headed somewhere?" she asks.
I laugh. She must think I'm insane for rerouting from my destination and following her around like a loyal puppy dog. "Nah. I just get bored in calculus sometimes and ask for a bathroom pass," I admit with a shrug, and then before I can let her distract me any more, I open the door and gesture for her to go ahead of me.
I grab her transfer form and drop it onto Frank's desk. "New student," I tell him, and then sit back in my seat. He tells Rory to find a desk, and she finds the one closest to the back of the room as possible, and I spend the rest of the period forcing my gaze straight forward. It isn't easy when all I want to do is prove to myself that I didn't imagine her. That three rows behind me, there's a strange, tough girl who's more beautiful than any I've seen before. I feel an unfamiliar tug in my chest, a pull in my gut, that's vaguely exhilarating, and somehow I know that this girl is going to change everything.
****
You're Mine
Nothing has changed. And yet, it has. I roll my eyes at the fates that assigned me to tutor Rory in calc. I lean back against the wall and wait for her to show. I consider whether I'm annoyed that this will make it more difficult to leave her alone - as she clearly wants - or if I'm grateful to have an opportunity to get to know her even though she said we couldn't be friends. I wonder if she'll even let me tutor her.
Last week at Andy's was pretty telling. I know now that that girl has been through some shit. I recognized the signs right away, but it took me until then to place them. Her anxiety, the way she caves in on herself when there are too many people around, how she reacted to Tucker when he tried flirting, the way she bugged out when Andy grabbed up on Tina in the student lot that first day... and of course, her reaction when I grabbed her arm. My hand inadvertently strokes the cheek she slapped that night, and I feel that wave of anger that's flooded me every time I've thought about it.
Not because she hit me, though I really don't fucking like being hit. But because someone hurt her.
Actually, according to her, everyone did. And I wonder at her meaning. In fact, I've been wondering at it for days.
And then she's turning the corner and I have to concentrate on not checking her out. I watch her surreptitiously instead, strangely nervous. That second day I convinced myself that there was no way she was really as hot as I had made her out to be in my head. That I must have just been bored as shit staring at the same chicks for the past four years. But damn if she wasn't even more beautiful that second day.
Rory glances at me, barely, but there's no acknowledgment. She makes to check the list posted to the classroom door, but I don't let her get that far.
"You're mine," I tell her.
She freezes and swallows nervously, and I'm a bit taken aback by her reaction, and, honestly, a little offended. I've been respecting her boundaries - I haven't so much as spoken to her since Andy's - and it's not like I'm the one who assigned the tutors, and something about her being unnerved by me- it makes my stomach roll.
"Excuse me?" she asks shakily, and I realize she's actually confused.
"You're my tutoree," I explain.
The tension drains from her body. "Oh."
I smile at her, trying to put her at ease, but then she tells me she wants to see if someone will switch partners, and I scowl.
"Why?"
She shrugs, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot. "Um... I don't know, I didn't think you'd want to, you know, tutor me."
What the fuck?
She won't even meet my eyes. First she thinks I'm trying to lure her down to the lake to screw her and now she thinks I want nothing to do with her. This girl makes no sense, and the only consistency in her assumptions is that she thinks I'm a colossal asshole.
"And why wouldn't I want to tutor you, Rory?"
"Well, you've been ignoring me, so I just figured..."
I must be fucking gaping at her, but I can't help it. "You can't be serious..."
I wait for her to tell me she was just kidding. Or explain herself. But it doesn't happen. She really believes I've just been ignoring her. Like I'm the one who didn't want to be friends with her. And it makes no fucking sense whatsoever.
"Rory, I haven't been ignoring you, I just backed off because I thought that's what you wanted," I remind her.
"What I wanted?" She's actually confused, which confuses the shit out of me.
I remind her that she's the one who told me we couldn't be friends. That she told Chelsea she didn't even know me. I tell her that I backed off because I didn't think stalking her was the best move.
"Oh," she whispers.
"I'm
not ignoring you," I say again.
And I see it. Barely there, but there nonetheless - her shy smile. It's fucking captivating. My chest expands with irrational pride.
"So can I tutor you? I could really use the extra credit," I tell her. Of course, I'd get the credit regardless of who I tutored, but right now I feel like this might be it - my one chance at getting to know this gorgeous, tough, nervous creature who just slipped into my world barely a week ago and will slip right back out when we graduate in a few months. And I'm determined to take it.
She snorts and it's adorable as all hell. She tells me she doubts I need the extra credit, and I explain my and Mr. Frank's disagreement regarding homework.
"And God forbid you were to earn a B," she teases. It's the first time she's braved some wit, and it hits me straight in the chest. I smirk at her, because she's right - I don't do B's.
"God forbid."
We end up working in the library for a couple of hours, and it's almost disconcerting how much I enjoy her company. She's also a pretty good student, and it quickly becomes clear that she must have just fallen a little behind with moving and everything, because the girl's smart. She's got the material for Monday's quiz down quickly enough, but I'm enjoying our banter, and looking at her pretty face, so I draw it out a little longer than necessary.
We walk toward the student lot, still chatting about nothing - everything - when Rory asks me about my sister. My guard shoots back up. I tell Rory that she's homeschooled, and hope she drops it.
"Why?" she asks.
I look over at her. Strangely enough, part of me wants to tell her all about Bits and all the shit that went down last summer. But this is the girl that doesn't even want to be my friend, so confiding in her about something that personal wouldn't be appropriate, and I tell her so.
She frowns, and stops walking, and I immediately regret my words. The last thing I want is to offend her.
ReCAP: A NORMAL Novella Page 1