Crushed (Evermore Book 1)

by ANDREA SMITH

  She waved me off. “Not hungry. Why don’t you go on out and enjoy yourself, sugar. I’m fine. I’ll just wait here until your daddy decides to call and check in with us. Go on now. Why don’t you get your paints and make me a pretty picture?”

  Clearly, she wanted me out of the house. I knew it was because of her need to drink without having me around to see just how much.

  I grabbed my easel, canvas, and charcoals and headed out into the November sunshine. The one nice thing about Southern California was that inclement weather was a rare occurrence no matter what season.

  I walked down to the beach, wearing a light jacket and one of Seth’s ball caps he’d left by the pool during the summer. I suspected he’d done it on purpose.

  He had a gazillion ball caps, and this one in particular was one of my favorites. It was the team cap for the Nashville Sounds, our minor league baseball team. I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten hold of it, but he only wore it once and then left it by the pool so I called squatter’s rights.

  I’d pulled my ponytail through the hole in the back and, as I faced the water where a trickling of sailboats coasted on the water, I adjusted the bill to keep the direct sunlight out of my eyes.

  I spread a blanket on the sand and started another seascape scene with sailboats. I had several already, but this one would focus more on the clouds overhead. A sign of stormy weather maybe?

  I became lost in my sketching and shading, but that was fine. It was, after all, my sweet escape for the storm that was brewing. And I didn’t mean out over the water.

  No, the storm that had been brewing for months now with my parents. The tension between them was palpable. As much as I tried to disassociate myself from it, I knew it was impossible.

  The sun was starting to move downward on the horizon when I heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind me. I wasn’t startled. I knew it was Seth.

  “Hey,” he said, collapsing down next to me on the blanket, “Nice hat.” His hand tugged at my ponytail playfully. “I thought maybe I’d find you here. Your mom’s been looking for you. She called the house. Sounded kind of, I dunno, worried and upset.”

  “Did you talk to her?” I asked, setting my canvas down next to me.

  “Yeah.”

  “So then tell me, Seth. Did she sound worried or upset? Because I doubt very much if she could’ve pulled them both off as drunk as she probably is by now.”

  He studied my face from where he sat across from me on the blanket, his legs pulled up in front of him, his wrists resting on his knees. “What’s going on, Tennessee?”

  I didn’t want to tell him. And it wasn’t because I didn’t trust him or couldn’t have used his take on the whole situation, because clearly I did and I could. It was that I was afraid I might break down and start bawling in front of him, and, well, that was just one thing I’d never done in front of Seth.

  I surely didn’t want to start now.

  “Hey,” he prodded, giving me a soft kick with his foot, “tell me, Neely. Maybe I can help.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t,” I squeaked.

  “Why not?”

  I looked down at my fingers, and started picking at my nails. “Because I’m afraid I might cry once I start talking.”

  He shifted closer and took the hand I was picking at and placed it in his. I hadn’t realized how big Seth’s hands were becoming. “So, what’s wrong with that?” he asked softly.

  His words pushed me even closer to the edge of the emotional cliff.

  “I’ve…I’ve never cried in front of you. I’m not about to start now,” I muttered, not looking at him.

  “You know, Tennessee, we’ve known each other for what feels like forever. I guess I misjudged the depth of our friendship.”

  I glanced up at him, and narrowed my eyes just a bit. “Seth, do you think for right now, for this conversation, you might call me Neely?”

  He gave me a pensive look, his mouth turned up a bit giving me a partial grin to take the edge off I suppose. “If I call you Neely, will you tell me what’s going on?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, Neely,” he said softly, “please, tell me what’s happened cause I’d really like to help if I could.”

  I kept my eyes from looking into his, because I knew that might prove to be a tipping point for me. “My mama is drinking all the time. My daddy’s never home, and I think there’s something very, very wrong with their marriage. I don’t…I don’t know how to act. I don’t know how to fix it,” I blurted out quickly. “And I wish we’d never moved to California because I think that’s when things started to change,” I finished.

  Seth let out a long sigh, the hand that wasn’t still holding mine, brushed the hair back off of his face. His kind and his very handsome face. When did he get so good-looking?

  “Wow. Well, that’s some pretty heavy stuff, I’ll give you that. Can I think about it for a few minutes?”

  I nodded. And we sat there in silence for several moments, he was still holding my hand, which kind of puzzled me, but I liked it.

  “Got an idea,” he said, standing up and pulling me up with him. “Laura is a great listener. And she’s pretty good at problem solving, too. She’s always helping my two sisters with something it seems like. Why don’t you talk to her about the situation? I’m sure she can help.”

  I wasn’t so sure anyone could help. But the thought of having another female to confide in appealed to me at the moment. “Well, is she busy getting dinner or anything?”

  “Please,” he said, chuckling. “Rita already fixed our Thanksgiving dinner. Hey, have you eaten?”

  I shook my head. “Mama totally torched our turkey.”

  “Well then, you can grab something to eat at our place. Actually, you’ll be doing me a favor.”

  “How’s that?” I asked, crinkling my nose.

  “Rita always makes way too much. We’ll be having turkey in some way, shape, or form until Christmas. Come on.”

  And that was that.

  He helped me gather my stuff, and then we trudged along the beach until reaching the wooden steps leading up to the back of his house.

  I’d been in the Drake house plenty of times before. It always seemed as if I was walking into some prime time television show. Lots of activity and chatter—all of it good-natured. His younger sisters were a trip. Danielle was ten, and Christy was nine. They looked like twins of different heights.

  Once inside, I could see that Seth hadn’t exaggerated one bit about the size of the spread Rita had put out. The long cherrywood buffet in their formal dining room was full of platters, bowls, and baskets of everything one could possibly want on their dinner plate.

  Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, macaroni salad, carrots, peas, sliced melon and strawberries, dinner rolls, tossed salad, and several different pies.

  “Wow,” was all I could say eyeing the spread.

  “Go ahead, Neely. Grab a plate and help yourself. Lemme go find Laura.”

  I walked over to where a stack of clean china plates were stacked and grabbed one. I put some turkey and dressing on it, and some cranberry sauce.

  As if Rita had built-in radar, she came bustling through the swinging door from the kitchen with a pitcher of ice water, and filled a clean glass with it, placing it in front of me on the table.

  “Would you like me to warm that up for you, dear?” she asked, grabbing a silverware setting that was wrapped in a linen napkin from the stack on the hutch, and handing it to me.

  “Uh, no m’am,” I replied, “this is just fine. Thank you.”

  “Okay. Just give me a shout if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you,” I said, unwrapping the silverware and grabbing the fork. I hadn’t thought about just how hungry I was until Seth had mentioned food.

  I had nearly cleared my plate when Seth returned, his mother, dressed impeccably in jeans and a blouse that somehow she made look kind
of glamorous. She was so pretty. Her make-up and nails were always perfect. When I’d commented on that once to Seth, he had just shrugged saying it was the nature of the business for her to look ‘picture perfect.’

  “You never can tell when paparazzi will jump out and snap a picture,” he explained.

  “Papa—what?” I asked.

  He laughed. “You don’t know anything about show business, do you Tennessee?” he teased. “Pap-a-raz-zi,” he repeated, slower this time. “They’re photographers that follow celebrities around and try to catch a picture of them looking ugly or maybe doing stuff they shouldn’t be doing.”

  I’d considered what he said for a moment or two, and finally, “Why?” I asked.

  “Because they can sell the pictures to a tabloid and make good money, that’s why.”

  “Are you talking about those newspapers they sell in the checkout line at the grocery stores?”

  “Yep. Those are tabloids.”

  “Mama says they’re trashy. And selling pictures? Well, that sounds kind of shady,” I’d remarked.

  “Welcome to Hollywood, Neely,” he had replied.

  “Well, hi there, Neely,” Laura Drake greeted with a smile, taking the chair next to me.

  “Hi, Mrs. Drake,” I replied, swallowing a mouthful.

  “Please, call me Laura,” she said, “I feel like we’ve known you forever.”

  “Okay…Laura,” I said.

  She studied me for a moment, trying to select her words. “Seth told you about your mother calling here looking for you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, m’am—Laura,” I corrected. “Yes, he told me.”

  “Do you think maybe you should give her a call to let her know you’re over here with us?”

  Yes, I should. No, I didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure how plastered she was going to be, and sometimes that caused her to get a little mean with me. “I guess.”

  “Before you do,” she interrupted as I started to get up from the table, “Seth mentioned to me that you had some concerns about how your mother’s been acting lately.”

  I nodded. “She’s been upset all the time. And now she’s drinking. A lot. I think she and my daddy are having problems. She doesn’t discuss it with me, but I can tell.”

  Laura was chewing on her bottom lip, as if she were contemplating her response. She probably figured a fourteen-year-old needed to be handled with some delicacy. It was funny, but I’d started feeling much older than fourteen over the past few months.

  “Honey, sometimes married couples go through things. I know that Kent and I have. I call them rough patches. It’s just part of life, and part of being married, you see. Now, I know your father’s been traveling quite a bit, so I imagine your mother feels some loneliness on that account. I’m sure once he’s done with all his traveling, things will get back to normal again.”

  There was something about the way she had said traveling that told me it was something much more than just that. Maybe Laura knew more than what she was willing to tell, or maybe she was just looking for some reason to give me so I wouldn’t be overly anxious about my parents. Either way, she was trying to ease the tension I’d been feeling lately.

  Her hand brushed against my cheek, and her fingers tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. She was watching me, studying me for some reason. “You know, you are quite stunning Neely. You’re growing into a very beautiful young woman. Have you thought about what you want to do after college?”

  That question came out of left field. But then again, I figured Laura wanted to change the subject to something more appealing. “I love art,” I replied. “I hope to study art and maybe work at a gallery or museum. Plenty of those around here.”

  “Now that is a great goal,” she said, smiling. “You know, one of my very best friends is curator at the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Jolla. How about if I set something up over Christmas break so maybe you and Seth can get a private showing? Would you like that?”

  I felt my eyes widen and a rush of enthusiasm envelope me at the prospect of being able to ramble around an art museum of that caliber, taking all the time I want to look at the paintings displayed there. I’d read about it in the Southern California Tourist Guide. It was a pretty big deal here.

  “Oh my gosh, yes! I would love that! But, I doubt if Seth would be into it,” I finished, giving a slight laugh. “He thinks art is lame.”

  “Seth Michael,” his mother admonished, looking over at where he was digging into one of the pies on the buffet. “You did not tell this girl art was lame, did you?”

  He chuckled, shoving the corner of the slice of pie he held in his hand into his mouth and nodded. He chewed for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “You know Kent always says artists are starving.”

  “Oh nonsense,” she remarked, waving her hand at him dismissively. “That’s just an old saying. Art is forever. And it’s passionate and compelling. I think a trip to the museum is just what you need to educate yourself on art appreciation.”

  He gave his mother a frown. “If you insist,” he grumbled, as if he was truly irritated at the thought.

  But I knew Seth. And I knew that he’d enjoy it almost as much as me because…well, because we were just that type of friends to one another. We did stuff other kids our age thought was lame or boring, but we always managed to have fun together.

  “Well, I’ll give Mama a call,” I said, going into the kitchen where they had a wall phone. It rang a total of seventeen times before Mama picked up.

  “Randy?” she asked, her voice a mixture of sleep and desperation.

  “No, Mama. It’s me,” I said, twisting the phone cord around my fingers. “I’m over here at Seth’s house. They gave me something to eat. They’ve got plenty of food here. I’m sure I could make a plate up for you. Are you hungry?”

  All I could hear was pathetic weeping from the other end. “I thought it was your daddy,” she said, sobbing. “He never did call today like he said he would. He doesn’t give a god-damned about us anymore, Neilah Grace!”

  “Mama—” I started, but she didn’t let me continue.

  “I don’t want any food. I want you home here with me. Right now, you hear me?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “You can sit here with me and see just what kind of pain your daddy has caused me taking up with…with that whore!” she screamed. The phone went dead. I wasn’t sure whether she’d hung up or pulled the phone cord out of the wall with as upset as she was at the moment.

  I placed the receiver back on the cradle and turned to go back when I saw Seth standing in the doorway. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Mama wants me home,” I said quietly. I didn’t tell him the rest because, to be honest, I had no idea what Mama had been talking about. She didn’t always make a lot of sense after she’d had a few drinks.

  “It’s dark out. I’ll walk you,” he offered. “Laura is making up a plate for you to take home.”

  I nodded. And picked up the blanket and backpack with my art stuff in it, and strapped it on. Laura came bustling into the kitchen with a plate wrapped in foil.

  “Here you go, sweetie. Try and get your mother to eat something, okay? And feel free to call me anytime, even if you just need to talk.”

  “I will,” I said. “Thank you, Laura.”

  “You come back anytime, Neely.”

  The night was clear, the stars were twinkling above and the clouds had moved on as Seth and I made our way along the pavement out front to my house just down the road. We walked quietly.

  I wasn’t sure why he was so quiet, but I knew why I was. I was flat out dreading walking through my front door. I didn’t know what to expect from the way Mama had acted today. She wasn’t usually this crazy.

  “What’s wrong?” Seth asked, nudging me with his elbow as he walked beside me.

  “Just kinda dreading going home. And I hate that I feel this way.”

  An
d then he did something so totally out of character, it nearly took my breath away. He slung his arm around my shoulders and just kept walking, as if this was a perfectly normal thing for us to do. I wasn’t sure how I should react to it.

  It wasn’t creepy or anything. In fact, it was kind of nice. I felt protected and, at the same time, I felt like he understood.

  We reached my front porch, and instead of Seth dropping his arm, he pulled me around so that our chests were just inches apart. I could feel the warmth from his body, and his breath caressed my cheeks. Before I had a chance to wonder just what the hell he was doing, I felt his lips on mine.

  I balled my fists up at my side and was ready to plant them firmly on his chest when suddenly I didn’t want to. I wanted his lips on mine. I liked the feel of them as they softly worked mine, tentatively and then a bit more urgently.

  I raised my arms, and curled my fingers around his neck as I pressed myself into him a bit more.

  Finally, he pulled back. We both caught our breath and I was feeling kind of dizzy. I figured it was because my head being tilted up while we kissed, might’ve slowed the blood flow to my brain a bit. Even my legs felt wobbly. I took a step back, staring at him.

  What was I supposed to do or say now? I was so clueless with things like hugging, holding hands, or kissing. So I did what came natural. “Why did you do that?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

  He shrugged and flashed me a crooked grin. “Cause I felt like it, I guess. Not bad. Not bad at all. See you tomorrow, Neely,” he said, backing off the porch, still grinning like a fool.

  “Ask next time!” I called out after him, but he never responded or even looked back as he jogged back down the road.

  I watched as he disappeared into the darkness, and it felt like butterflies were dancing in my tummy. For a second, I wondered if it was a weird type of menstrual cramping since my period was due any day. But I quickly realized it was a pleasant feeling unlike the former.

  And then I smiled before walking into hell.

  Chapter 6

  Present Day