by Vi Keeland
Aunt Claire can’t hold back her enthusiasm. “Of course you can go. I’m so happy you made a friend. I was worried. This is such a big change for you.”
“I know. And thank you.” It’s not going to be difficult to remember to try to please Aunt Claire so she’ll continue to let me stay. She just makes it come naturally.
***
The library has always been my sanctuary. A place I’d go to escape the reality of my often screwed-up existence. Back in Texas, I’d spend hours alone in the stacks, sitting on the floor flipping through old books, the smell of musty paperbacks strangely comforting— different than the smell of must in our old trailer.
Allie waves to me excitedly from the long table as soon as I walk in, her smile contagious. I’d stood outside a few minutes before coming in, seriously debating on whether or not to go inside. After the long day of firsts, I wasn’t sure I was ready for any more. But seeing Allie actually looking happy to see me somehow quells my fear.
“Hey, this is Cory and Keller,” Allie says, introducing me to the others already seated at the table. Both look vaguely familiar. I must have seen them in English class today, but after taking in a thousand new faces, I’m a bit too overwhelmed to remember much about any single person.
It takes less than three minutes sitting at the table, before the group dynamic is clear. Keller Daughtry looks like a linebacker, an intimidating one. I wouldn’t be surprised if he growled instead of spoke. He’s broad and muscular, with short, cropped hair and loads of bite in everything he says. But it’s the kind of sarcastic wit that’s said with a grin, and the group looks like they enjoy poking the lion almost as much as he enjoys delivering the lashing. Cory is the quiet one of the trio. She smiles and laughs, taking in the exchanges among the group rather than jumping into the middle.
“So what’s your story?” Keller asks, bending back his chair on its hind legs, his arms folded over his chest.
“My story?” I know what he’s asking, yet the question catches me off guard.
“Yeah. You know, where’d you move from? You play any sports? Is Allie going to have to carry your ass in this project too, like she does mine?” Keller shrugs. “Your story.”
All eyes turn to me. I do my best to feign casual, even though I’m anything but comfortable talking about my story. “Ummm…I moved here from Texas. I ran track at school. And I hope Allison doesn’t have to carry me.” Keller watches me intently, unsure what to make of what he sees, so, without thinking, I let who I am slip out to show him. Arching one eyebrow, I intentionally graze my eyes across the girth of him before I speak. “I’m not sure she can carry my ass, since she’s probably already suffocating under the weight of yours.”
Keller throws his head back and laughs. “You’re going to fit right in, although I’m not sure I can put up with another smartass in the group.”
We discuss our project choices until a little before the library closes, the hours passing more like minutes. Allie has a passion for reading that brings everyone into the story, even Keller, who I get the feeling isn’t always the greatest student.
Allie and I talk for a few minutes out front as I wait for my aunt. “So, you run track?”
“Yeah, you?”
She laughs. “Definitely not. I run like a duck. Running isn’t my thing. I played soccer for a little while when I was a kid. My dad really wanted a jock. With two girls, luckily my little brother came along and it took some of the pressure off us. I try to stick to sports that don’t entail running.” She pauses, then adds, “Zack runs track.”
“Your brother?” I ask with a furrowed brow.
“No. Zack’s the other person in our group.” She looks at me blankly for a second. “He plays football too.”
“Oh. Is he sick or something?” The minute the question leaves my mouth, Allie’s face changes. Sadness covers her usually sunny smile. I immediately regret asking the question.
She attempts to recover her smile, but fails to make it even slightly believable. “I’m hoping he comes back soon.”
Aunt Claire couldn’t have better timing as she pulls up, I’d stuck my foot in my mouth enough for one day.
Chapter 15
Zack—
Wednesday
I knew it was coming before my parents sat me down. It was only a matter of time. I was out of school the last few months after Emily died and then a whole summer passed. I think Mom and Dad were afraid to argue with me yesterday, when I said I wasn’t going for the first day of school, but they aren’t going to let this go any further— at least that’s what I overheard Dad saying to Mom after dinner. So tonight, they pulled the plug on my avoidance. Tomorrow is going to suck.
Rather than try to spend time convincing them that I should stay home, I decide to go for a run. I’ve been running a lot lately. Music blaring in my ears, feet pounding hard on the concrete beneath my feet, nothing else seems to clear my head. I take the new route I’ve been tracking, unable to bring myself to follow any of the paths that Emily and I usually ran. I slow as I reach the library. Allie’s car is outside. So is Keller’s. I’ve felt guilty about the way I spoke to her the night she came to see me. She was only trying to help. She’s texted me a few times since then, but I didn’t answer any of the texts. The only ones I’ve returned were a few of Keller’s, because I knew he would show up if I didn’t.
Instead of continuing on my run, I take a deep breath, lower the volume on my iPod, wipe the sweat from my brow and make my way into the library.
They’re at our usual table. Allie’s back is to me, so she doesn’t see my approach, but Keller nods in my direction, a guy greeting of hello.
“Hey.” I say, my voice directed at no one in particular. Allie turns. Her eyes go wide, but she attempts to come off casual.
“Hey. You’re here?” She smiles hesitantly.
“Actually, I was just on a run and saw your cars parked outside. I’m sort of too sweaty to sit down and join in, but thought I’d say hi. Pretty sure I’m coming to school tomorrow.” Not by choice, but I leave that part out.
“Sorry, I’m late,” an unfamiliar girl’s voice says from behind me. She walks to the table hurriedly, tossing her bag onto the table and pulls out a chair. Never looking up, she digs into her backpack, searching for something. Distracted, she doesn’t notice me standing here, but hell, I notice her.
As soon as I see her face, I know who she is…the girl from the track. I’m curious for her to look up so I can get a better view, but I’m also glad to have a minute to stare without being noticed. She’s beautiful, although not in the typical California girl sense. Fair skin, a thin, straight nose, full pink lips and dark blonde hair that makes her untanned skin stand out in contrast to the golden California girls all the more.
Sensing my staring, she looks up, our eyes connecting immediately. It takes her less than two heartbeats before recognition kicks in. Her mouth parts on a sharp inhale. It’s odd, I’ve avoided eye contact for months now, yet I’m glued to her, unable to tear away my gaze.
Not unlike our first meeting, neither of us say a word. Only this time, she turns it into a challenge. She arches one eyebrow, a small twitch at the corner of her mouth telling me she’s amused with our muted exchanges.
“Zack?” Allie says, confusion evident in her voice. I hear her words, but the fact that she’s calling my name, trying to get my attention, doesn’t really register with me. “Zack,” She calls a second time, the confusion in her voice changing to concern. It snaps me out of my fog and I turn, begrudgingly breaking our gaze.
“So do you think you’ll be able to come?” Allie eyes me up and down as if to make sure I’m okay.
I furrow my brow. She’s completely unaware that I haven’t heard a word she’s said the last few minutes.
“The Grind. Tomorrow night,” she repeats. “The library closes early and we’re going to work on the project .”
I nod. Feeling eyes on me, I turn my attention back to the girl from the track. I wasn’t wrong, she’s w
atching me…closely too. Allie catches my attention shift.
“This is Nikki,” she says, “she’s new at LBH. Mr. Davis assigned her to our group.”
I extend my hand, but say nothing, letting the smirk on my face do all the talking. Nikki puts her hand in mine and smiles back with a nod. We’ve got some sort of an unspoken challenge going, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak. It’s bizarre since I’ve never really met the girl, but I realize, as I shake her hand longer than would be considered normal, that I’ve smiled twice in the last few weeks. Both times around her.
***
The first half of the run back home, I contemplate the oddness of my behavior. Why had I suddenly become mute around a strange girl? Sure, she’s pretty, there’s no denying it, but there’s something more. I’m drawn to her. When I look into her eyes, see the smirk on her face, I don’t feel the anger that bogs me down around everyone else. Maybe it’s because she’s new…there’s no reminder of the life I want to escape so badly. I’m not sure, but a vision of her keeps popping back into my head with every step. And it makes me feel guilty. God I’m such an asshole. My girlfriend is gone barely six months and I’m already checking out replacements.
I run faster and faster, desperate to make the feelings go away. The ones that make me feel good cause me more pain than the ones that torment me. At least I deserve the torment, I don’t deserve to feel good.
Chapter 16
Nikki
“It’s about time!” Ashley calls at midnight, yelling so loud that I pull the cellphone away from my ear. It’s only been a few days, but since the first day we became friends we definitely haven’t gone this long without speaking.
“Sorry. I’ve been so busy.”
“Doing what? Or should I say whom?” she teases. I flop down on my bed and close my eyes, envisioning Ashley grinning and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. I bet she’s lying belly-down on her bed, legs flailing in the air as we talk.
I sigh and tell her about my first few days at LBH, filling her in on my classes and track tryouts, but that’s not what she’s interested in.
“Blah, blah, blah…trigonometry, running in circles…tell that crap to your Aunt Claire. I want to hear the juicy stuff.” Ashley says, only half joking.
“There’s not really any juicy stuff to tell.” I pause. “Except…”
“Tell me,” Ashley demands.
“There really isn’t anything to tell.”
“There’s something.” She knows me so well.
“Well, I met a cute guy,” I confess.
Ashley squeals in response. “Describe him. I’m going to close my eyes…give me the visual.”
I close mine too. A picture of Zack pops into my head without even having to take the time to think about him. That’s been happening a lot lately. “Well, he’s tall…maybe six feet.”
“Mmmmm…tall’s good. Go on.”
“Broad shouldered. Lean, but muscular.”
“Sounds yummy. Eyes?”
“Yes, he has two of them.”
“Smartass.”
“Blue with a hint of green. The color of Caribbean water.”
“You’ve never been to the Caribbean.”
“Shut up.”
“Go on.”
“Nice lips. Full.”
“Mmmmm,” Ashley groans at the visual I’m painting for her. “More.”
“Dimples. He has dimples. And he doesn’t even have to smile to show them…he just sort of smirks and they appear.”
“He sounds perfect.” She exhales loudly before adding, “For me.”
I can’t help but giggle at her reply. Though I know she’d never go for the same boy as me, even if we were still in the same school. She likes boys she meets in detention, like Tommy Damon who smokes pot under the bleachers alongside the track…not the boys that run on it.
“Is his voice sexy? I like a deep voice. A guy who squeaks my name ruins it for me. Totally.”
“I don’t know.”
“You haven’t spoken to him?” she asks, confused.
“Nope.”
“I thought you said you met him.”
“I did.”
“Is he mute?”
“Maybe,” I tease, resting my chin in my hands as I prop up my head while still lying on my belly, diagonally across the bed.
“So you’re hot for him, but you’ve never spoken to him?”
“I didn’t say I was hot for him,” I respond, a bit too defensively for her statement to be wrong.
“You’re hot for him,” she insists.
“Ugh,” I groan. “I don’t know why I tell you anything.”
“Because I’m awesome at giving fishing advice.”
“Fishing advice?”
“Yeah…I’m going to tell you exactly how to bait the hook and reel him in.”
***
Day four of school and I’m finally getting the layout of the building, actually making it to English before the bell rings for the first time. Allie is busy provoking Keller as I walk over and take the seat behind her and across from our other two team members.
“I’m a vegan, I don’t consume animal protein,” Allie says with a flick of her wrist, dismissing whatever Keller has just suggested.
“So? They have chicken.”
Allie’s eyes bulge in disbelief. “Chicken is animal protein!”
“No chicken?” Keller looks appalled at the thought.
The two continue on while I set my backpack on the floor, head down searching for my textbook. Of course, it’s all the way down at the bottom of my bag and I need to unpack everything to get to it. I make a mental note to figure out a packing regimen that will work for my class schedule.
Abruptly, the class goes quiet, a few whispers replacing the loud chatter from just minutes before. I look up, expecting to see Mr. Davis has just entered the room. But instead I find Zack.
He doesn’t do anything for a minute while he looks around the room. His jaw clenches as he takes in all the eyes locked on him. For a second I think he’s going to turn back around and leave, but Mr. Davis walks in, oblivious to whatever is going on, and tells everyone to take a seat.
Allie lifts her hand and quietly calls to Zack, pointing to an empty seat across from her. Begrudgingly, he takes the seat, never looking up again.
Mr. Davis wastes no time jumping right in. “Alright everyone, take out a sheet of paper and a pencil.”
There’s some grumbling, but a minute later, everyone is ready. Everyone except Zack, that is. It looks like he doesn’t have anything to write with. He turns to the guy in the row on the other side of him and mumbles something. The guy shakes his head. Then he turns in my direction. Mouth poised to say something, most likely to ask for a pencil, he looks up and stops short before speaking. For a second, I see what I think might be a flash of attraction in his eyes, but it’s quickly extinguished. Instead, he looks down for a moment, regrouping, then back up at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. Pursing his lips together, he motions with his hand, pretending to write in the air, a wordless game of charades.
I can’t hide my smile as I extend a pencil in his direction with only a nod and a grin.
Mr. Davis doesn’t waste any time beginning his lecture. Today we’re going to discuss the summer reading assignment, Wuthering Heights. He asks for a show of hands to see how many have actually read the book. Just about everyone raises their hands. Everyone except Zack. Somehow, it seems unlikely that every senior has done the summer reading. The reality is probably that Zack is the only one brave enough to admit he hasn’t.
I do my best to concentrate on the lecture, but my eyes keep wandering back to Zack. He’s seated across from me, but one seat up, so it’s easy for me to steal glances without being caught. He’s wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt, dark sneakers…very simple, yet sexy at the same time. Only, it’s not the outfit that does it, it’s the way he wears it, fitting snugly across his wide shoulders, the sleeves yielding tightly
to the thickness of his arms. Somehow it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to look good, or even knows that he does.
His sandy blonde hair is messy; it looks as if his idea of styling it might have been to run his fingers through it in frustration, daring it to move out of place. It’s longish, the back hitting almost to the collar of his shirt. He could probably use a cut, but the unstyled, just-out-of-bed look only adds to his sex appeal.
Instead of paying attention, he alternates between staring off into space and doodling something on the paper. I can’t distinguish if his lack of attention is from boredom with the teacher or distraction because of something else all together.
Realizing I’m spending way too much time watching someone I shouldn’t be focused on, I force my attention back to the teacher, deciding to write notes as he talks in order to occupy my eyes. But it doesn’t take long before my mind starts wandering again, seeing as I’ve read this story and analyzed it ad nauseum in my advanced English class last year. Of course, my eyes can’t help but follow my mind. Only this time, when I find myself staring, watching the boy who looks as distracted as I feel, Zack turns and catches me.
Crap.
My first reaction is to look away quickly, as though if I did it fast enough he wouldn’t think I was staring. Stupidly, I look up a few seconds later to see if he’s bought what I’m trying to pass off as a casual glance of chance, rather than stalkerish staring, and I find he’s staring back at me. Intently.
My eyes react automatically by looking away again, but they quickly make their way back, getting caught in his gaze. It’s just so direct and attentive. My heart speeds up and I feel my face heat with embarrassment as my eyes flicker back and forth to his, trying to decide what to do. Not nearly as uncomfortable with our direct stare, Zack’s still not turning away. No, instead, the corner of his mouth twitches toward a grin. He’s relishing my discomfort at being caught.
Luckily, the bell rings and Allie turns to talk to me, completely oblivious to the tension she is breaking. I grab my books and pack up quickly as she talks, needing to put some distance between me and the voiceless boy.