Opening my locker, I did a double take. Draped from a fluted vase was a breathtaking arrangement of exotic orchids and rare lilac roses, my favorites. They were soft, delicate—perfect—and I stepped closer to smell them, my hand curling around the vase. The raspberry coconut scent of the orchids mixed with the honey-laden smell of the roses, creating a soothing balm for my tattered heart. They had to be from Grandma. I smiled as the aroma swirled around me like a scented blanket. She knew they were just what I needed today.
Suddenly, a small, angular body collided with my back, shoving me hard against my open locker. I lost my balance, and the fragile vase flew from my hands and shattered, along with my brittle heart. The array of beautiful flowers tumbled across the tile floor. But before I could snatch them, several were crushed by the crowds emptying the hallway.
“Oops, sorry,” Natalie’s unrepentant voice chimed. She made an obvious effort to grind the final untouched rose into the ground with her stiletto heel as she passed.
Too many emotions swirled around me to respond. I couldn’t take my misty eyes away from the crumpled flowers.
They were so beautiful. And now they were gone—ripped from my life just like Uncle Stan, my home, my mom. My knees buckled, and I knelt in the messy puddle of glass and petals. The pain from the broken glass dug into my flesh, but was a welcome distraction from the growing ache in my chest. I picked up several of the tattered petals, tears dripping from my eyelashes.
“Aww, look. The slut’s crying,” Natalie jeered.
I had no power left to move. My exhaustion was complete.
“What’s wrong with you?” Chel stepped between us, her fist clenched. They glared at each other. “Can’t you see she’s grieving? I bet you wouldn’t hold up as well on the anniversary of your father’s death.”
“Leave, Natalie,” Kyle’s deep voice commanded from a little ways down the hall.
Natalie glared at Kyle. “Like I want to stay at this cry-fest,” and strode off with her usual flock of friends.
Chel wrapped her arms around me, careful not to kneel on the glass. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head.
“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
I tried to stand, but my legs refused. Chel was struggling to help me up from the slippery floor when Kyle’s strong arms slid around my waist, hefting me up.
“I’ll help you,” Kyle said, and I didn’t argue as I leaned into his side. “Danny, grab her bag.”
Wiping my tears, I let Chel and Kyle lead me. At that moment, I didn’t care where we went, as long as it was away from there.
CHAPTER 5—Cookies and Broken Rules
The next day I ditched school. I was in no condition to handle the snickers and pitiful stares from my classmates. After sleeping until noon, I bummed around the house until the desire for sweets motivated me to flip off the TV and wash the mixing bowl.
With hot pad in hand, I opened the oven door, breathing in the heady aroma of melted chocolate in sugary dough. Baking my favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies was a perfect salute to a do-nothing-day, not to mention tasty. I’d already consumed half a pan and wasn’t going to feel guilty about it either. There was still enough for the rest of the family. Besides, they weren’t even home to witness my gluttony. Ten minutes ago, Grandma had forced Aunt Lily for a brief walk to the park and back. The girls would beat them home on the school bus. It would be here any minute.
I shoveled the last of the cookies onto the cooling rack when the doorbell rang. My hand jerked the spatula, sending a warm cookie flying through the air. It landed in a gooey mess on the linoleum. I ripped a paper towel from the roll and wiped up the mess before rushing to the front door. Thankful I’d at least gotten dressed today, even if it was sweatpants and an old tee-shirt depicting the snowy Appalachian Mountains. Unfortunately, I hadn’t applied make-up or combed my snarled bed hair.
I jerked my hand through my hair and opened the door. I gasped. A huge bouquet of several dozen orchids and lilac roses filled my view. It was the exact same arrangement of flowers that were trampled yesterday in the hall, except three times larger. The face of the bearer was blocked by the plethora of flowers, but the large hands curled around the crystal vase bore a handcrafted class ring—Kyle.
I closed my mouth, gripping the door handle for balance.
He lowered the flowers, revealing his perfectly tanned face. “You weren’t at school today. So, I thought these might help. To, you know, replace the other ones.”
It was strange to see Kyle uncomfortable, maybe even a little shy.
“They’re…um…thanks, Kyle.” I was so overwhelmed by his rescue yesterday and now this unexpected surprise that words failed me. I couldn’t match up this guy with the possessive one that punched Todd months ago. Was I wrong about him? Had it been the hype from the game? Or, maybe he’d changed…
“I’ll just put these on your table,” he said before quickly adding, “If it’s okay with you.”
I realized I’d just been staring at him and stepped aside. He confidently strode into the messy house. My cheeks reddened with embarrassment as I followed him to the kitchen through a maze of scattered shoes, dirty clothes, and Cammie’s Barbies. The kitchen wasn’t much better with an overflowing pile of dirty dishes in both sinks. At least the cookies masked the sour smell—for now.
I saw him hesitate at our small overloaded table.
“Oh, geeze. I’m so sorry.” I hurriedly swept off the scattered stickers, glitter-glue, and construction paper onto a chair. “The house isn’t usually this messy.”
He settled the massive vase on the scuffed surface I’d uncovered. “It smells good. Are those chocolate chip cookies?”
“With oatmeal.” Okay, that was lame. “Do you want one? I just took them out of the oven.”
He leaned against the countertop, watching me with curious hazel eyes. “Sure.”
I handed him one. An awkward silence stretched between us as he consumed the small treat. I parted my lips, but couldn’t decide what to say or what to feel. Why did he have to be a gentleman all of the sudden and confuse my fragile heart further?
“Well, I’d better go. Thanks for the cookie.” Kyle turned to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. His brows creased slightly in thought. Was he going to ask me on another date? Or was he clueless of how to talk about death and sorrow? My chest tightened as the floral scent wrapped around me. Whatever it was he wanted to say didn’t matter. I knew I couldn’t let him go without thanking him again.
“Wait, Kyle.” I grabbed his arm and he grimaced in pain. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” I was puzzled. I half wondered if Kyle felt pain after all the tackles he’d endured.
“It wasn’t you.” His voice was strained.
I should’ve let it go. The girls would walk through the door any minute, and I was alone with a boy in the house against our family rules. But the back of my neck tingled from the strangeness in his voice. Without thinking, I pushed up his loose, long-sleeved shirt. My breath caught. A welt crossed his forearm like a misshapen rod.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” He pulled his arm out of mine and jerked his sleeve down.
“That isn’t nothing, Kyle.” I pointed to his arm.
He just shrugged a “whatever”, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes and shifted his weight as if antsy to leave. My heart stirred with a pang of compassion.
Crap! Why did I have to care?
I would so lose my fantasy novels for this, but that arm needed ice, and I was insatiably curious. What was Kyle hiding?
“Sit.” I steered him to the kitchen chair. “You’re going to ice it whether you like it or not.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t argue and slumped into the chipped wooden chair while I dug in the freezer. Kyle probably had a fancy icepack with an initialed cloth sleeve that one of his maids would’ve fetched for him at home, but all I had was a bag of peas, and we were far from the Harrington Mansion.
I str
ode back to the table with the sorry excuse for an icepack and swallowed a snort. Kyle sat stubbornly with his arms crossed, hiding the wounded one.
“Either you put your arm on the table and let me ice it, or I’ll call my aunt, who’s an RN, and let her fuss over you.” On a normal day, that’s what my aunt would do, but today, I wasn’t even sure she would notice Kyle, let alone his arm.
“I am fine. Really.”
I glared at him, and he inched his arm onto the table, as if exposing the wound was a weakness.
I didn’t have to push up his sleeve to see the raised welt through the fabric. Placing the frozen peas on the wound, I took a seat next to him, angling my chair toward him. Minutes passed, neither of us making eye contact. What was I thinking allowing Kyle into the house when Grandma and Aunt Lily would be home soon? I would so be grounded for this. And why did my heart flutter every time I caught the gaze of his soft hazel eyes on me? Why was he acting so strange? Why was I?
“So, is Coach Henfield allowing weapons on the wrestling mat or did you pick a fight with the stairs and lose?” I tried to break the awkwardness with humor.
His shoulders tensed and his long fingers snatched the sack of peas off his arm. With one fluid movement he stood, handing back the mushy bag. His fingers lingered where our hands met. “I’ve got to run. Forgot to do an errand for my mom. Thanks.”
I almost let him escape without explanation when an image of his mom shrieking at Coach Brine flashed in my mind. Her voice had flowed like molten honey, sweet enough to stick but hot enough to burn.
“Did your mom…do that?” I asked, unable to hold his eyes for long.
“I told you it was nothing.” His face hardened, turning into the Kyle I feared. But I couldn’t let it go.
“Did she?” I pushed. Why did I have to be so stubborn? My scalp tingled with fear. Would I be the next person to send Kyle into a fist fight? But he surprised me and slumped back into the chair.
He chuckled humorlessly. “She doesn’t have enough muscle to harm a fly.”
“Then?” Disbelief colored my tone.
His hand fidgeted over his wounded arm, straightening the sleeve of his shirt. “My father’s home.”
“Your dad—” I swallowed.
“It was my fault for mouth’n off while playing pool.” His hazel eyes darkened to a murky brown, sending a chill down my spine. “Gave him too good a weapon to hit me with.”
He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “Does it matter?”
Yes, it matters. Your father’s beating you! I wanted to say, but didn’t. I felt sorry for him.
He slapped the table, and I jumped, my heart lodging in my throat. “But hey, no biggy, I’ve got strong bones. See, no breaks.” His tone was light as he winked at me with pride while showing me his welted arm.
I didn’t understand boys. It was like everything was okay if blood wasn’t drawn.
“It’s still wrong, and you should report it,” I said stubbornly. I didn’t care that his father was a California Senator and owned the largest oil corporation in the west. He shouldn’t be allowed to hit his own son. No amount of money or influence gave a person that right.
“No, Tayla.” Kyle’s face paled for a millisecond as if the suggestion was worse than his painful welt.
“But why? He hurt you.”
His hand brushed my cheek as his finger tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “This is what I love most about you.”
“What?” I stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift from anger to a declaration of love.
He tried playing it off as nothing big, but I could see his cheeks redden under his golden tan. “You care about other people’s problems. Different than the other girls. You’re special…”
The loud squeak of bus brakes jerked me from his enveloping gaze. “Crap. You have to leave before my cousins see you!”
“Why? Do they have a crush on me, too?” he teased, as I yanked the sliding door open.
“Sarah would totally rat me out,” I lamented, hoping he wouldn’t ask for an explanation, but he folded his arms and stood as firm as an ancient tree. I groaned. “We aren’t allowed to have boys in the house.”
Could this possibly get any more humiliating?
He raised his eyebrow. With pursed lips, I clarified. “Alone.”
“You mean, Tayla broke a rule?” He put his hand over his mouth in mock horror. His eyes darted back and forth as if in an old spy movie. “Do you think they’ll arrest us?”
I pushed him playfully, a little giggle escaping my mouth. “Just get out of here.”
He had a talent for making people laugh, drawing people to him—me to him. But I had to wonder if he wasn’t the best actor of us all.
“Promise you’ll go to the movies with me on Saturday.” Something serious flickered through his eyes. It was so brief that it left me one step behind.
Footsteps on the porch echoed through the silent house. I tried pushing him through the open door but I might as well have rammed my shoulder into a boulder. He wasn’t moving without a yes.
“Fine. Now move.” I tripped, catching myself on the counter as Kyle sprinted through the door with a grin.
“See you Saturday,” he hollered over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner of the house.
CHAPTER 6—This is Crazy
Saturday, February 11
“So, Kyle’s taking you to dinner and a movie?” Chel asked as we entered my bedroom.
I nodded.
“Do you know where?”
“No clue, but he said to wear something semiformal.” I plopped on the bed. “I guess it has a dress code.” I couldn’t believe I’d been cajoled into a date—a date that started in three hours.
“Well, let’s see if you have anything in here that will pass.” Chel lobbed her bulky shoulder bag in the corner and opened my closet with trepidation. She flipped through my clothes so fast the metal hangers clinked together. Then she shook her head and turned to look at me on the bed. “Don’t you have anything that isn’t last century? We have gone shopping together, right?”
“Some,” I said stiffly, trying not to be offended. To Chel, last month was probably considered last century.
If it was up to Chel, she’d buy me a whole new wardrobe. Not that I’d mind, but I hated when Chel bought me anything I couldn’t repay her for. Aunt Lily just didn’t have the cash for extra clothes. I’d considered getting a part-time job when we moved here, but reality quickly set in, shooting down that idea. I did have a job. I just didn’t get paid for raising my cousins.
“Hmph.” Chel swiveled on her heels and started yanking shirts off the hangers and throwing them at me. “No, no, no.”
I thought I’d be buried alive before she found the perfect one, suitable to Chel’s taste. Not everyone had their daddy’s credit card. Ripping off another shirt, she assessed it before wrinkling her nose and throwing it at me.
Pulling the discarded shirt off my head, I recognized it. “Hey. I bought this a month ago, and you were with me!”
“Lapse in judgment,” she said, flashing me a wicked smile. She was enjoying this too much. I already had a lap full of semi-formal shirts and wondered if she was torturing me on purpose. Chel flicked her hand as if to swoon from exhaustion and delved back into the closet.
“Come on, Chel, I’m getting gray hair!” I halfheartedly threw a wad of shirts back at her, but they missed and fluttered to the floor. I was already nervous, and I was seriously over this picking-out-the-outfit stuff. Did it really matter that much?
Chel wriggled out of the closet with her arms full. Only a few straggling hangers remained untouched on the rod. “I guess this’ll do.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “But we are so going shopping next weekend.”
She held a white tank top up for me to appraise.
“Seriously? You picked that plain thing out of all this mess!” I hefted an arm load of shirts off me, for emphasis.
She giggled. And that was it. I pelted he
r with wads of tanks, tees, and camis. They splattered in her face and slid silently to the floor. The giggling stopped. Then the clothes came flying back at me, which erupted another massive round of giggles. The clothes war continued until we were both breathless. My room looked like a splattered canvas. Shirts flopped over everything like splotches of dried paint. I sobered looking at the tank top crumpled near the closet.
“Chel, I don’t know why I said yes to this date. Kyle’s been making my life miserable.” I started picking up the scattered shirts. “I just can’t forget the whole Todd incident.”
“First, Kyle Harrington is totally hot. And second, boys hit boys,” Chel said. “It’s like the natural pecking order of alpha males, or some weird rite of passage. Sure it was mean, but Kyle has totally redeemed himself. Not to mention the extra points for that gorgeous bouquet of flowers on your table. If that isn’t repentance, I don’t know what is.”
“Yeah. I guess,” I said, but still felt uneasy.
“Now, come on. We have to pick out a skirt.”
“I don’t think I can handle another hour of you throwing skirts at me. Can’t I just wear my denim skirt?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Absolutely not. I refuse to let you go to a nice restaurant wearing that. No friend of mine is going to be labeled as white trash.”
“Ouch. A little harsh?”
“Compared to Kyle, you’ll look like a washed-out country girl in most of this stuff. You need a little pizzazz. Good thing I brought emergency supplies.” She dug in her shoulder bag. She stood, holding a mauve skirt covered in black lace, a cascading rose pearl necklace, and matching earrings.
“They’re beautiful!” I fingered the necklace.
“I know. Now, this black cardigan will look perfect over the white tank top.” Chel winked at me.
I gave her a “whatever” glare and snatched the clothes from her to try them on. Admiring myself in the mirror, I had to admit Chel chose a killer outfit. The lace-ruffled cardigan was short-sleeved and fanned open around my chest before tying at my waist, making my pencil-straight hips look curvy. I barely had enough hips to keep the short lacy skirt from slipping to my ankles. Chel was the one blessed with curves.
Curse of the Beast Page 4