“Stop,” I say quietly. “Please, just stop. I don’t want to hear any of this. I don’t want to hear about you and Reed, I don’t want to her about Aidan and Becca. I don’t want to hear about any of it.”
My head is pounding now, a steady rhythm signaling the beginning of another headache. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other, on getting around the block and back to my house.
Further down the street I can see a swarm of white butterflies. They beat their wings faster, and faster, and come at me, surrounding me until the flutter of their wings is so loud that I can’t hear anything else. I put my hands up to my ears, and close my eyes tight. When I open them again, the butterflies are gone. I’m just walking with Cam, the way I was a minute ago.
“I need to tell you this, Natalia,” Cam says. “I think I figured out why – ”
“Stop!” I’m almost screaming now. “Stop, please.”
“Okay, okay.” He stops in the middle of the street, reaching for me and pulling me close. I remember seeing him with Kaci on the couch that day, and my mind screams at me to push him away, to resist him. But it feels good to be back in his arms, and I lean my head against his chest. We stand like that for a long time, him rubbing my back, me burying my face in the warm softness of his sweatshirt.
Finally I pull back, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Listen,” I say. “I’m sorry, I am. I know you want to tell me all this stuff. But I’m done with it, Cam. I have Raine’s necklace, and I told her I’m done. Reed and everyone else can do whatever they want.
As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t involve me anymore.”
“Natalia,” he says, and I can tell by the look on his face what he’s about to say.
He’s about to tell me that it doesn’t matter what I think, that I can’t just stop, that whatever’s going to happen is going to happen, and I’m going to be a part of it whether I like it or not.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t want to hear it, Cam. All I have to do is give Brody his iPad back, and then I’ll be done with all of it.”
His body stiffens at the mention of Brody, and he pulls away from me and starts walking.
I follow him.
“So you talk to Brody about this stuff?” he says.
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, I did. Or, I used to. But not anymore. I told you, I’m finished.”
“You’re finished after you talk to Brody about it.”
“No, after I give him back the iPad.” He doesn’t say anything, just stares straight ahead, walking and not saying anything. His lips are set in a straight line, like he’s pissed. Which is completely ridiculous. “You’re mad? About me talking to Brody?”
“No.” But he so obviously is.
“Okay.” I say it sarcastically, like I know he’s lying.
“Fine,” he says. “Yeah, I’m pissed. Can you blame me? You won’t talk to me.
It’s just like before. As soon as things got hard, you ran off to Brody.”
“I didn’t run off to Brody, Cam. Brody knew things, things that were helpful to me.”
“How the hell does Brody know anything about anything?”
“He just does. But his job is to keep the peace, to not get too involved.”
Cam laughs at this. “He sure has a funny way of not getting involved.”
“He did things for me that he wasn’t supposed to do because he was worried about me.”
Cam snorts. “Like what?“
“Like giving me that iPad.”
“And he told you he was doing it because he cared about you?”
I nod. “Brody’s not the enemy, Cam. And besides, I think it’s pretty fucking hypocritical that you’re getting on me for talking to Brody when you were kissing Kaci.”
“Fine,” he says. “But if you weren’t always …” He trails off, realizing he’s made a mistake. But it’s too late. I know what he was about to say.
“If I wasn’t always running off to Brody, then you wouldn’t have kissed Kaci?” I shake my head. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Fine,” he says. “I shouldn’t have kissed Kaci. I know that. It was wrong and there’s no excuse for it.” I expect him to add a “but” to that statement, to qualify it with something but he doesn’t.
We’re back in front of my house now, and I stop without continuing on our loop.
I need to check on my mom. And anyway, I shouldn’t be out here with Cam. All it’s doing is bringing up things and feelings that I don’t want to talk about or deal with.
“I should go check on my mom,” I say.
“Why does she have to be checked on?” he asks, like he knows there’s more to the story.
“Cam.” I sigh. “Why did you come here?”
“I came here because I wanted to talk to you. I was worried about you.”
“Well, I’m fine. I’m staying out of things. And Cam, honestly, I really think you should, too.” I look at him, and for a moment, I see that boy I met on my first day at Santa Anna, the boy who came over and helped me when I couldn’t get my locker open.
The boy who sat next to me in study hall, the boy who all the girls wanted and who, for some reason, wanted me.
An aching want wells up inside of me, followed by this overwhelming sadness for what could have been if things had just been different.
I kiss him on the cheek, and he looks surprised.
“Natalia,” he whispers.
But I shake my head and put my finger to his lips before he can say anything else.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I can’t.”
I walk toward my house and when I get inside, I turn around and look out the window. Cam’s still standing there in the road, staring at the door.
The longing is still there in my heart, the intense wish that Cam was just a boy I met at my new school. But I push those thoughts away. That’s not what happened, and so there’s no use thinking about it.
I stand there for another moment, and then I turn away from the window and head upstairs to check on my mom.
Chapter Four
Campbell
I walk back to my truck, sadness and regret bubbling up inside of me, brought on by seeing Nat again, being close to her, feeling like we’re supposed to be together, that we both know it and yet somehow we can’t ever get it right.
Or maybe I’m the one who can’t get it right.
Inside my car, I’m trying hard not to cry. It’s stupid to cry, stupid to feel all these things for a girl that I’ve known for less than a school term.
I start the engine and pull out of the driveway, not knowing where I’m going. I don’t want to go home and have to talk to my mother, and I certainly don’t want to see Aidan for a little while.
Driving faster than I probably should, it hits me hard that Nat is going to be in big trouble if she just tries to pretend none of this is happening. She doesn’t want to know about Becca or those papers I found in Hadley’s room, she doesn’t want to see or hear anything that will interfere with her belief that she can just put all of this stuff behind her.
As far as Nat is concerned, she has Raine’s necklace and that’s all there is to it.
But I know that’s not true. I know they’re going to keep coming after Natalia, and they won’t stop until she kills them or they kill her.
My hands are sweating on the steering wheel. I need to do something, I need to find a way to help Nat—to protect her—even if she doesn’t want me to anymore.
And then it hits me. I know what I need to do.
A few minutes later, I’m parking in front of Brody’s house. It feels strange because I used to come here a lot when Brody and I were getting along. But then we got competitive about football, and then Natalia transferred to Santa Anna.
Funny how things change.
I walk to the door and knock a few times.
A moment later, Brody’s mom answers the door. At first when she sees me, it’s like she doesn’t even re
cognize me. I think maybe Kaci and Brody have trashed me and she’s going to tell me to get the hell off their property.
But then her expression transforms into one of pure joy. “Oh my goodness!
Campbell Elliot!”
She moves aside and lets me in, then gives me a big hug. I can hear voices in the other room. “Sorry for just showing up unannounced, Mrs. Martin,” I say guiltily.
“Not at all!” she says. “In fact, your timing couldn’t be better. We just sat down to dinner a few minutes ago and there’s plenty of food to go around.”
“Oh, no. That’s okay. I actually just wanted to have a quick word with Brody.”
The thought of sitting at the table with Brody’s family makes my stomach turn.
“Campbell,” she says, pretending to be a little angry with me. “Don’t insult my hospitality. You’re going to eat or I’m going to be very, very offended.”
I sigh. Shit, this is going to get awkward. All I can hope is that Kaci is out somewhere. I haven’t heard her voice, so maybe—
And then I hear Kaci asking someone to pass the peas.
She’s here, too.
“Sounds great,” I say, putting on my best fake smile. “What’s for dinner?”
“Steak, mashed potatoes, peas, corn, rolls, and plenty of salad.”
“My favorite foods all in one place.”
She leads me into the dining room, where Brody, Kaci, and Mr. Martin are sitting and eating. Kaci and Brody stare at us like they can’t believe what they’re seeing.
Brody’s dad, a big guy with gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses, jumps up and holds out his huge hand. “Campbell Elliot, you rascal!”
I shake his hand as he pumps my arm ferociously.
“Hey, Mr. Martin,” I say.
Brody’s dad gives me a hard pat on the back. “You look like you’ve put on some muscle.” He turns to Brody. “Doesn’t this guy look like he’s put on some muscle?”
Brody doesn’t answer, just stares down at his plate and moves his mashed potatoes around.
Mr. Martin doesn’t seem to notice. “Where’ve you been, Campbell?”
“I—uh—well you know…school’s getting busy and football…”
“Sit down, sit down,” Mr. Martin says. Brody’s mom sets a plate in front of me and Brody’s dad slaps a big piece of steak down onto it.
Now I’m sitting across from Kaci and Brody.
Kaci’s eyes narrow slightly as she watches me. “Why didn’t you text someone to let us know you were coming by?”
“Brody used to tell me I could drop in anytime,” I tell Kaci, “and I happened to be in the neighborhood.”
“Really?” Brody says. His hand is frozen in place, holding a fork that’s spearing a piece of steak. He’s hardly moved since I came in to the room.
“Yeah,” I say. “Really.” I take a bite of mashed potatoes. “Delicious, Mrs.
Martin. Your cooking is the best—just don’t tell my mom I said that.”
Mrs. Martin blushes a little and thanks me. Brody and Kaci can hardly contain their disgust, but their parents seem merrily oblivious to the tension between me and their children.
We spend the next few minutes talking about school in a generic way: football, which teachers are tough, which ones are nice. It’s like a play or something, and I get so lost in my performance that for a moment I almost believe we’re all still friends and nothing weird is happening in Santa Anna.
As dinner winds down, Kaci suddenly stands up. “I’m going to Vicki’s,” she announces. “I’ll be back in like an hour.”
Brody gives her a sidelong glance but doesn’t comment.
I’m a little surprised. I figured there’d be no way Kaci would let me have any alone time with Brody.
Mrs. Martin sighs. “I really wish you’d tell me these things in advance, Kaci.
We’ve discussed this before.”
“I’m sorry,” Kaci says. “I swear, I won’t even be that long. A couple hours at the most.”
Mr. Martin shakes his head. “Just let her go already.” He slaps another helping of potatoes onto my plate. “Growing boy like you needs fuel!” he announces.
“Fine, Kaci,” her mother says wearily. “Fine. Go. Go.” She mumbles something about kids these days not realizing the importance of family time.
Kaci smiles sweetly, kisses her parents on the cheek, and then flits out of the room.
Mrs. Martin begins clearing the table.
“Let us handle this, mom,” Brody says.
“Really?” She seems surprised. Figures. Brody probably never offers to help around the house. He’s probably always making his mom do all the work while he spends his time plotting ways to steal my girlfriend.
“Yeah,” Brody says. “You and dad go watch some TV or something. We got this.”
“Definitely,” I say, standing up and taking the plates out of Mrs. Martin’s hands.
“You made dinner, the least we can do is clean up.”
Mr. Martin pats my shoulder. “You need to stop being such a stranger, Campbell.”
The parents leave and the television goes on in the other room.
Brody stands up and begins clearing plates. “Don’t just stand there. Help me out.”
I grab some more plates and we carry them into the kitchen. “You know I didn’t come here to pig out and do dishes,” I say.
He runs hot water into the sink and pours some soap in. The water begins to rise and bubble. “I’m not an idiot, Cam.”
I wait for him to ask me what I’m doing there, but he doesn’t. After a few minutes, I can’t take it anymore.
“I want you to come clean with me,” I say.
He turns from the sink and looks me in the eye. “No pun intended?” he asks, flicking suds from his hand. Then he takes a plate and dips it into the water, grabs a sponge and begins cleaning. “You dry,” he commands.
I grab a dishtowel and next thing I know, he’s handing me the wet plates and silverware and I’m drying them.
“Natalia told me that you’ve been helping her,” I say eventually.
Brody passes me a small pot. “So?”
“So, she says that you’re supposed to be neutral, but you stuck your neck out to help her. At least, you somehow convinced her that’s what you did.”
He shakes his head and throws the sponge onto the counter, folds his arms. “Why should I have this conversation with you, Cam? I don’t owe you anything.”
I stare right back at him. “I never said you did. But I’m not going to let you play Natalia.”
“I’m not playing her. What the hell do you know about it?”
“I know you’re full of shit.”
His jaw flexes. “Keep talking like that and see what happens.”
“She’s scared and she’s in trouble,” I tell him, inching closer but keeping my voice down so his parents don’t hear any of this. “And you’re taking advantage of her.”
Brody snorts. “I’m taking advantage of her? Is that what I was doing when Nat and I caught you hooking up with my sister?”
Anger flares inside of me. How dare he bring that up? It has nothing to do with him. I want to reach out and punch him in his face, but I force myself to keep it together.
“You’re not really helping Nat,” I tell him, deciding to ignore his comment. “You might be able to fool her, but you can’t fool me. You always have an angle, Brody.”
Finally a flicker of worry crosses his face and I know I’ve gotten to him. “You’re in over your head, Cam,” he says. “Way, way over. You should just lie low and hope to God things work out better for you then they did for the last…” And then he catches himself and stops talking.
“The past becomes the present, right Brody?” I say, quoting the line from the papers I found in Hadley’s room.
His expression morphs into something resembling fear. “Where did you hear that?”
From the living room comes the sound of canned laughter from the TV, follo
wed by Mr. and Mrs. Martin’s hearty, clueless guffaws.
I shrug. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Brody. And you’re not half as smart as you think you are.”
His expression darkens. “You ever heard that saying, ‘a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing?’ Well, that was meant for guys like you.” He points a finger at my chest. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with. You don’t even know who you are.”
“Leonid, of course.”
His jaw twitches and his eyes widen temporarily. But Brody is a master of controlling his expression. “Who told you that, Cam?”
I smile slowly. Obviously I don’t know what that phrase meant or who Leonid is, but I was hoping that saying these things in front of Brody might help me get some answers. And it’s working.
“Cam, you need to answer me,” he says. He crosses his arms over his chest.
“This is serious.”
I grin. “I don’t see what the big deal is. After all, I don’t know anything, right, Brody? What are you getting so worked up for?”
Suddenly he grabs me by the shirt and throws me against the wall. His face presses into mine. “I’m not going to let you destroy everything I’ve worked for, Campbell. I’ll fucking kill you first.”
I close my eyes and focus on that place I found just a little while ago, the place I discovered when Reed was about to kill me, the place that contains the source of my power. I can still feel it. Not as strongly as before, but there’s something there. I open my eyes and grab Brody’s hands, pulling them from my shirt and squeezing.
His face contorts into a grimace. “Shit,” he says. “Cam, what the fuck? Stop.
You’re—you’re going to break my fingers.”
I let go. “Don’t touch me again, Brody.”
He slowly massages his wounded fingers. “Jesus Christ,” he says, looking at me in awe. “You do know.”
“Some of it. But I want you to tell me more.”
He takes a step back, and his whole body shifts. His shoulders slump. “I don’t know where to start,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “And I can’t…there are some things I still won’t be able to tell you.”
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