by L. J. Woods
Looking back in the mirror I nod, pushing the words out, “Shave it.”
He pauses, blinking before he tilts my head to the side, fingers under my chin. Then he smiles, “Yeah? I mean your look is edgy enough to pull it off."
Allie comes closer, nodding. “Nate’s right. You’ll look like a badass bitch.”
“Let’s do it.” With their reassurance, I’m feeling more confident by the second.
“Are you sure?” Nate asks. “I can grab them right now.”
I nod, refusing to let this ruin me. “Positive.”
Making it to class way after the second bell, I find Damien sitting in a different seat than the one he fought me for. In the back row, on the opposite end. Seeing him at a desk is comedic, the way his long legs jut out like a giant.
My boots thud pass him but he doesn’t budge, a copy of the assigned reading glued to his face. The Catcher in the Rye. Rolling my eyes, I toss my bag beside my desk before dropping into my seat.
Clink!
Looking down, a screw rolls away before the entire chair collapses bringing my ass to the ground. The class erupts in laughter and my eyes dart to Damien, he’s not even looking my way and it only makes me angrier. “Really? This the best you got?”
Christian enters, his eyes dropping to me. He looks confused seeing me on the ground before he picks up his pace, heading in my direction, “Jesus.” He helps me up by the elbow, holding out a hand and I grab it. It’s warm, his skin soft, and with one quick pull, I’m on my feet.
“Thanks.” I brush off my kilt while Christian gives me the chair from his desk. I look over at Damien and still, he hasn’t budged. “At least someone here has a heart.”
Before Christian can ask, a boy gets up to offer Christian his chair which he takes and I shake my head. But his charming smile and help are enough to make me forgive the asshole behaviour. “Nice hair.” He winks, before sliding into his seat.
While I didn’t get a reaction from Damien, Christian sure did as Damien gives him a glare that could kill.
Making it through English without any more disruptions is a small victory. But once I’m in Algebra with Lea, she doesn’t let up.
She throws embarrassing comments my way all class, backed up by giggles and laughter.
As for Mr. Trout, he doesn’t flinch. Nope, he lets Lea run her mouth no matter how nasty her words are. If I retaliate, he gives me a warning. I’m grateful Allie’s in this class because if it wasn’t for her having my back, I don’t know if I could keep my cool.
After listening to Lea’s whiny voice for over an hour the lunch bell is relieving, even without an appetite. As we’re filing out the door, Mr. Trout asks to speak to Lea. I’m hoping it's some sort of disciplinary action for her outbursts.
“God, she’s the worst!” Allie screams at the ceiling as we walk to her locker. “She's just jealous that you look better with a half-shaved head than her with her stupid fucking headbands.”
On the way to lunch, we pass the Algebra classroom again. With a peek through the window I notice Lea sitting on Mr. Trout’s desk. He's a foot in front of her before he closes the blinds.
Allie seems to notice too. Her pace quickens and she tugs me along. “C’mon, let’s get you fed.”
It’s Waffle Wednesday and while the sweet smell in the cafeteria is inviting, my appetite is non-existent. Scanning the room, I’m as floored by the ERA cafeteria as I was yesterday. Wooden rectangle tables have clean white chairs all around it. Not one with scratches or a broken leg. “Go Eagles!” hangs from the ceiling, more trees decorating the space.
Scanning the room, Damien, Isaac and Christian are at a table with Lea, Georgina and some of their other friends. Lea’s hands are all over Damien’s and it makes my jaw clench, a stab in my chest. They deserve each other.
When we find an empty spot near the doors, Nate and Allie sit in front of me. The guy from the party is with us, Carlos, and they’re all arguing about which queen from Drag Run they should vote off. Nate throws a strawberry at my plate and I hardly flinch, my eyes on one of the waffle holes filled with syrup. “What’s wrong Warrior Princess? Not into carbs?”
He was nice enough to make my plate, piled high with berries. If he thought it would cheer me up, it'll be disappointing to hear the truth. “Sorry I’m not so easily bought like you’re used to.” I look up with a wince, hearing my sass.
Allie snorts and Nate blinks. “Now I know that’s just a reaction from trauma, so I won’t retaliate and read you to filth. I’m just happy your attention is now on something besides the waffle-y mush on your plate.”
I finally smile, and the minute I do, something wet and slimy hits my nose.
Swiping at it, a sliced banana falls on my plate.
“Score!” I look around Nate’s head to see a guy in an ERA jersey hoisting two arms in the air. The cafeteria erupts in laughter.
My jaw tightens before a waffle hits me smack in the face, the smell of syrup in my nose.
When the waffle falls onto the table Allie stands up. “What the fuck?”
A strawberry comes flying at me, followed by a chunk of banana before it’s raining blueberries. I spill the contents of my tray onto the table, using it for cover as Nate pulls me off my seat.
The whole cafeteria is on this fruit blitz and those who aren’t, are laughing. Pointing.
Damien’s staring our way with a huge grin on his face before he mouths, “Go home”.
I flip him the bird as Nate and Allie help me out the door, Carlos not too far behind.
After lunch, I bump into Christian on the way to the library. He asks if I'm okay and while it’s a nice gesture, it’s all in vain if he doesn’t get his friends to back off.
The library is quiet and when the smell of sweet, musky books takeover, I start to relax. Do I even have to say that the ERA library is impressive? It’s three floors and the size of a department store. Everything looks encased in glossy brown wood. Except for the brass rails, lights, books and computers.
Passing the time there is easy, especially after finding a spot at the end of the second floor where no one seems to go. It’s a little cubicle at the end of the poetry section with literal cobwebs. My refuge.
The last bell rings, a wind of relief flowing through me. My locker is my last stop before I meet Willow outside to wait for Henry. Grabbing my backpack, I leave my jacket behind. No need for it with a car and the warm fall air.
When I exit the school, the air is warm, but the sky is grey and cloudy, the wind bringing a whiff of rain. Looking towards the driveway, my stomach tightens. Damien’s helping my sister into the back of Henry’s Rolls Royce.
“Get the fuck away from her!” As I hurry down the stairs, Henry takes off, leaving Damien with his hands in his pockets. “Hey!” Getting to the driveway, I call after the car. I’m waving my hands but Henry doesn’t stop. “Wait!”
Damien takes the few steps to get beside me before he shrugs. “I figured you’d have some extracurricular whoring to do. So I told your driver you had other means of getting home.”
My shoulders drop as I square up with this excuse for a King once more, “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Damien?” Lea’s voice comes from the bottom of the stairs. I turn to see her lips tight, eyebrows raised. “What are you doing?”
“Informing Medusa about her walk home,” he smirks. Thunder cracks along with Lea’s cackle as he lifts an eye to the sky. “Better hurry.”
I pull my phone from my backpack as the first drops of rain begin. Damien nudges me hard enough that my phone falls out of my hand. He kicks it towards the stairs and walks towards it. When he gets in front of it he lifts his boot before I hear a crunch! He digs the heel into the screen before using his umbrella to whip it into the driveway like a puck.
“What the actual fuck?”
I should’ve known better than to think last night meant anything to him. I'm stupid for letting him invade my thoughts. How did I ever let him touch me li
ke that?
He shrugs, meeting Lea at the end of the stairs before he puts an arm around her. “Thought I needed to send more of a message.”
“And what would that be?" All efforts to bite my tongue are now out the window. "Because one minute you’re begging me to fuck you and the next you’re a temperamental child. Is that what happens when you grow up with nannies instead of parents?”
Damien's knuckles turn white and I know I’ve hit a nerve. He’s gripping onto the handle of the umbrella like he wants to break it. “Enjoy your walk Medusa.” He puts his hand on the small of Lea’s back and leads her to the limo pulling up.
When they drive off, the limo gives my new phone a second death. It's hard not to wince as I hear it crunch under the wheel.
Fuck.
At least Willow’s not worried and at least I’m in my Docs, not those uncomfortable flats.
I fish in my backpack for a rubber band and pull my curls on top of my head as the cloud breaks and it begins to pour.
It’s cold, wind going right through me and I couldn’t stop shivering if I tried.
My kilt sticks to my skin like a new layer, drenched from the downpour. My hair too, curls sticking to my head, rain hitting my fresh shave.
Lea is a monster but Damien King is unpredictable. As bad as he's been, I didn't see this coming. How long I’ve been walking on this stretch of tree-lined road is unknown but I'm hoping I make it home before dark. I hear the roar of an engine and there's a lift in my chest.
Sticking out my thumb I turn around, then my heart sinks. Damien’s Lambo shines, headlights blinding my view. Moving my arms across my chest I try not to give him a show as he slows down, passenger window lowering.
Damien tilts his chin towards the door and I hesitate.
This prick wants me to get in his car?
Taking a look around, my shoulders fall. Groaning, I tilt my chin to the clouds. He's the one who started this, but it seems that he's had a change of heart. Besides, do I have any other options?
Pulling on the handle, the door doesn’t open, thunder crackling. Damien’s lips move into a grin. “Call me King.”
“What? No!" I pull on the door again.
“Fine,” he chuckles and my stomach flips. “Say you’ll leave, and I’ll drive you home.”
He’s asking me to give up one of the only privileges I’ve ever had as a foster kid. Why? For his ego. “Fuck that,” the words slip out of my mouth, his smile fading. Without another word, the handle slips from my grip as he skids off.
I call after him but it’s no use, that thing is way too fast.
My head to the sky I let out a frustrated, “Fuck!”
Thunder crackles again, and I spit water from my mouth. If I’m ever going to make it home I’m going to need to pick up the pace. Besides, jogging warms you up, right?
Beeeeep!
Headlights block my view ahead, a black Jaguar coming up the other side. It makes a U-turn before coming up beside me.
“Shit, Jo!” Christian’s head appears when the tinted window lowers. “Need a ride?”
Of course, I need a fucking ride. “No, I’m going for a leisurely stroll.” From the sounds of it, I'm still fuming from Damien's bullshit.
He reaches over and the door opens. “Alright, alright, get in, Medusa.” He pauses. “I mean, Jo.”
When I climb in, the smell of leather and cinnamon takes over. Putting my soaking backpack at my feet, Christian ups the heat on the panel between us. He touches another button and there's warmth under my thighs.
“What’re you doing out here?” He reaches into his back seat, four-way flashers still on.
The rain hits the roof of the car like bullets, windshield soaked even with the wipers on max. A bolt brightens up the sky and I take a deep breath, back sinking into his seat. Christian covers me with a warm, fuzzy blanket, waiting for an answer.
Pulling it around me, the look in his green eyes makes my cheeks warm. “Just another day under the King’s wrath.”
“Damien?” His brows furrow, so do mine.
“Are you surprised?”
“Fuck, are you kidding me?” He bangs his fist against the wheel before muttering something in Spanish. “You need to stay away from him, Jo.” I hate the way he’s looking at me like I’m some poor lost puppy.
“You don’t think I know that?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Sorry.” He looks over at me, and I catch his eyes drop to my chest before he glances away. “I mean, I know you know that.”
I shift in my seat. “Just take me to MOCHA.”
That makes his face twist even more. “You don’t want to go home? To the Archibalds’ I mean?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”
He glances at me again. “I mean, you look like a stray cat. An attractive stray cat, but at least let me drop you off for a warm shower. You must be cold.”
A warm hand lands on my thigh. There's a tingle where he rests it and it helps me relax. His hold seems comforting but that's probably normal after being alone in the rain.
My head falls against the headrest. “I’m already late and this job...it’s important.” It’s a part of my ticket out of this place. My sister’s ticket out of foster care. “But thank you.”
He sighs, patting my thigh before he puts the car into drive.
My head stays towards the window as we drive down the road. The only thing breaking our silence is the sound of the radio. He’s playing Drake, whiny and slow. It’s not my thing, but it’s nice to have a distraction. He sings along, his voice blending with the melody. Christian can carry a tune like an American Idol finalist. His singing is soothing and it adds a bit more comfort to the drive.
We get to MOCHA and it’s still pouring but I thank him again.
“Wait.” He stops me from closing the door. He reaches in the back and throws me a pair of green joggers. “Might be comfier in that.”
“Thanks, Christian.” I take the joggers, tucking it under my arm. “I mean it.”
“Anytime.” His smile is big and full, borderline contagious.
I’m about to close the door but I can’t help myself, thunder crackling louder now. “Why are you friends with him?”
He shakes his head as if he doesn’t know, letting out a chuckle, “Too much fucking history.”
I’m not sure what that means but I thank him again before closing the door.
It’s quiet inside the cafe. It might be the rain keeping most people away but I'm relieved only one young couple saw me enter the shop like a wet cat.
My shirt is already in my backpack and I head for the bathroom to get changed for my shift.
On the way, I hear Cindy’s voice but it’s hushed. Every time I overhear someone in this town it seems to be about me. So listening to Cindy is a chance I take. Moving closer, my boots make a squeak. Wincing, my breath stops as I wait to see if she's noticed.
“Jo? Is that you?” Cindy calls.
Letting out a breath I clear my throat, leaning into it. “Yep! I'm about to get changed for my shift."
“Come in.”
My shoulders drop and I roll my eyes, pushing the door open. I can already hear the disappointment in her voice before I’m standing in the doorway.
Cindy looks me up and down over her pink and gold frames. “Darling, you look like a used mop.”
“Something like that,” I mutter.
“And what did you do with your hair?”
Holding up Christian’s joggers, I’m hoping it quells at least one of her fears. “Don’t worry I’m going to change.”
“I have a long-sleeved shirt for you.” She throws her finger towards one of the velvet chairs in front of her. Her eyes are quick to turn back to the laptop on her desk.
My boots squeak again, moving towards the chair. Cindy looks over at them before shaking her head, going back to whatever she’s doing.
Reaching for the shirt, I notice my last name on a file on her desk. My nose wrinkles, gettin
g a closer look. Freezing, my heartbeat picks up when I confirm what I'm seeing.
An employee file wouldn't be surprising but the first initial isn’t mine.
It’s my mom’s.
Eleven
Cindy looks up, following my gaze to the file before tucking it under her laptop. “Run along, Jo, you’re already late.”
I’m not letting this go. “Is there something going on?”
Cindy sits back in her chair, crossing her legs in her powder blue suit. “Excuse me?”
“Do you know something about my parents?”
“The Archibalds? They’re wonderful people dear.”
“No. My real parents.”
Her lips purse before she speaks, “Why would I know something about your parents?”
“I saw my mother’s name on your desk.”
“Darling, it was yours.”
I know what I saw. “No. It wasn’t.”
“As someone who partakes in cannabis smoking, I’m sure you’re mistaken. Looped up.” She moves her finger in the air like a corkscrew. "I should have you fired but I like to see the better in people. Not like my husband." Cindy sits up, tucking the file further under her laptop. “You’re already twenty minutes late. If you don’t stop pestering me with your silly questions I’ll take it out of your pay.”
Something is going on and I need to know. “Cindy I—”
“That’s your first hour docked. Now get out of my office Miss Rowland and get to work.” She gets up from her seat and points at the door. “That’s if you still want a job.”
I do as she says, and leave her office, pushing the bathroom door open with force. I'll drop it for now but I'm not letting this go.
No way.
My shift is mellow and I’m starting to get the hang of all the equipment. Between learning the menu and cleaning out coffee grinds, my mind wanders. How am I going to find out what Cindy Huang knows about my parents? Without getting fired that is.