Discovering Benton

by Jessica Sorensen

  The kind of stuff that’s made me put walls around myself.

  But the thing is, Zhara seems like she might understand that sort of stuff too. Maybe that's why I won't let this idea of having her pretend to be my girlfriend go. Or perhaps it was that kiss… That goddamn kiss that felt so good. Or maybe it was that weird need I felt to help her when she explained to me how she felt like she's never experienced life. Asking her to do this, to go on tour with me, could be her way to do that.

  Of course, getting her to see that might be complicated. Plus, she’d have to get permission from her guardian to go. But from my experience, replacement parents usually don’t care as much about the kids they’re taking care of, so that might not be a problem.

  "I'm going to ask her," I tell Xavier, and he sighs. "Look, I'll make her sign a confidentiality agreement, but I think this is the best way to do this."

  "Whatever," he mutters. "Personally, I think you're wasting your time, but you're the one who's supposed to be working on your image, so it's your choice. And besides, it'll make me feel less bad when the rest of us are partying and having fun, and you're playing the saint."

  “Screw you,” I say, but I’m not really pissed off at him.

  I’m pissed off at the situation.

  “Sorry.” He sounds very unapologetic, but that’s Xavier for you. “But you kind of brought this on yourself. That whole fiasco with that politician’s daughter… That was bad. We lost a bunch of ticket sales because of it.”

  I massage the back of my neck as I remember the night that led up to the ultimatum.

  I'd been partying for a week straight with what I thought was just a fan. Turns out she was the daughter of a well-known politician, and when we got caught, the girl said I had persuaded her to do drugs and drink, which I didn't. In fact, she's the one who brought the drugs to the parties. But the band got some really negative attention directed at us because of it. And because a lot of our demographic are in their teens, some parents wouldn't allow their teens to come to our concerts anymore, and sales went down.

  “Yeah, I know.” I massage my temples. “I’m going to make this work, either with Zhara or some rando Dee and Zen pick out for me. I promise no more loss of sales or negative attention.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he says, knowing me way too well. “Just do your best to stay out of trouble. And remember, we’ve got your back.”

  I nod, knowing he’s right. In a world filled with people who’ve hurt me, betrayed me, and broke me in ways I’ll never admit aloud, my friends and bandmates have always been there for me. They’ll do just about anything for me, and I’ll do just about anything for them, which is why come tomorrow I’m going to go over to Zhara’s and ask her to pretend to be my girlfriend and help me clean up my act.

  I just hope it works.

  I hope I can stay out of trouble. But deep down, I know it’s not going to be that easy. My recklessness, drinking, and partying have helped me cope with the shit that’s been thrown at me. Or well, helped me not have to cope with it.

  I hope I can handle not having that escape.

  But part of me is worried I’m not that strong.

  That I’ll break.

  Zhara

  Somehow, over the course of one day, I've become an insomniac. Usually, I get to bed at a decent hour. Not to get my beauty rest, but because getting eight hours of sleep is what good girls do. At least, that's what my mom told me once when I had stayed up until two o'clock in the morning, just to see what it was like to stay up late on a school night.

  “Zhara, you need to get to bed,” she said when she caught me lounging in the living room, watching a late-night talk show. She blinked at the television screen, where a woman in her early twenties was yelling at her mom for sleeping with her husband. “What on earth are you watching?”

  I shrugged, sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. “I don’t know, but it’s actually pretty entertaining.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s trash.” She shook her head, scooped up the remote, and clicked off the television. “You have tests in the morning. You should’ve been in bed over four hours ago.” She glanced at the clock. “Dammit, Zhara, you’re barely going to get four hours of sleep now.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her, lowering my feet to the floor. “And I only have one test, and it’s in English.” I stood up, yawning. “I could ace English in my sleep.”

  “You say that now, but we’ll see tomorrow.” She pointed to the stairway. “Now get to bed. And please, don’t ever stay up this late again. You’re lucky Alexis didn’t see you. I finally got her back on a normal sleeping schedule. If she sees you up this late, she’ll think it’s okay to go back to her old ways.” She shook her head as I trudged by her. “You’re supposed to be setting an example for your brothers and sisters.”

  “I just stayed up late,” I muttered. “It’s not like I was out partying and getting drunk.”

  “No, but breaking curfew can be the starting point to getting into more trouble. Trust me; I’ve been through this with Loki and Jessamine.” She followed me toward the stairs, her tone softening. “I know you think I’m being hard on you, but I only do it because you’ve always been such a good girl, and I don’t want you getting on the wrong track.”

  I remember wondering how on earth she thought staying up late to watch trashy television could lead to me ending up on the wrong track? It was just a few less hours of sleep, for crying out loud. And it’s not like I was out doing drugs or participating in teenage mischief. Still, her disapproval made me never stay up late ever again. Until tonight.

  Tonight, I’m awake well into the late hours of the night. Or the early hours of the morning, depending on how you look at it. But I can’t sleep. Not when I’m supposed to meet Benton in about twelve hours to find out what sort of favor he wants from me. I can’t even wrap my mind around what it could possibly be, and honestly, I'm sort of worried.

  I mean, maybe this is all some sort of prank or practical joke. Perhaps, when I show up at Benton's apartment, he and a bunch of his friends will be there, waiting to laugh at me for believing that Benton would want anything to do with goody-two-shoes Zhara.

  Then again, I don’t think the guys talking to Benton could’ve been part of a prank. They seemed like pretty serious dudes. But still, it worries me.

  I’m also worried that maybe he’ll want me to do something I’m not comfortable with.

  My mind wanders to Benton kissing me. Could that have been a prank? Does Benton even like me? It’s not like he’s called me. Then again, why would he? He doesn’t have my phone number. And it’s not like he has a reason to get it.

  “Gah.” I drag my fingers through my tangled, messy hair as I lie in bed, staring up at my ceiling. “What is wrong with me? When did I become so obsessed with guys and kisses? This isn’t like me. I’m supposed to be focusing on school and getting a summer job. I need to focus.” Sucking in a deep breath, I shut my eyes and try to go to sleep.

  I slept fine last night after coming home from the party. I should be able to sleep now. But after several minutes of listening to my own breathing and the creaking of the house, my thoughts are still racing over what’s going to happen tonight.

  Giving up, I throw the blankets off and climb out of bed. Then I tug a hoodie over my tank top, slip some fuzzy boots on, and pad down the stairs to turn off the house alarm. After I punch in the four-digit code, I slip out the back door and onto the patio.

  The night air is warm, and I instantly regret putting on the hoodie, but I make no move to take it off as I sink down onto a chair and kick my feet up on the railing.

  I stare up at the stars and the moon, wondering if my parents are up there, looking down on me. It’s something I’ve wondered before, but I don’t know what to believe. Never really have. I’d like to think that perhaps my parents’ souls morphed into stars and flew up to the sky where they can constantly shine down on my siblings and me. It's a beautif
ul and peaceful thought—

  Thump.

  The noise comes from the backyard gate.

  I whirl around, ready to run into the house, but I pause as I hear a recognizable voice.

  “What’re you doing out here?” My twin sister Alexis staggers into the backyard through the gate, her thick boots thudding against the grass. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed like a good little girl?”

  I internally sigh. While Alexis and I may be twins, we’re complete opposites. Well, that is if I'm comparing her to the good girl version of me. We're also not identical twins and dress nothing alike. People who don't know us often assume she's my older sister because she dresses a lot more maturely. She doesn't act more mature, though. Ever since our parents died, she’s gotten into a lot of trouble, constantly breaking curfew and staying up into the late hours of the night, even on school nights. Now that she’s eighteen and graduated, she barely comes home anymore. And when she does, she’s usually grumpy.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I tell her as she trudges up the stairs. “I have too much on my mind.”

  She snorts a laugh. “Miss Perfect has too much on her mind? I highly doubt that.” She stops in front of me and grabs the railing. “I mean, how can someone so perfect have anything to worry about?”

  I ball my hands into fists, battling to remain calm. “I’m not perfect.”

  “Yeah, maybe you should tell that to everyone else.” Mocking laughter rings in her tone. “Because I’m pretty sure people think birds dress you in the morning and your shit don’t stink and all that.”

  I lean back as the bitter stench of her breath hits my nostrils. “Are you drunk?”

  “Does it really matter?” She moves to step by me, but I sidestep, blocking her way. She’s so stunned by my move that she nearly smashes into me but manages to stop at the last second. “What the hell?” She grabs the railing again as she teeters to the side. “Get out of my way.”

  “Not until you tell me why you’re drunk?” My weak voice doesn’t match my words, but I don’t care. Alexis has never been much of a big drinker, so the fact that she smells like that drink Benton gave Taylor has me concerned. “This isn’t like you.”

  Her hollow laugh sends a chill through the air. “Like any of us actually know each other anymore.” She regains her balance and pushes me out of the way. “We all stopped knowing each other the day Mom and Dad died. And honestly, I have no desire to change that.” With that, she glides the sliding door open and stomps inside, not bothering to be quiet.

  The upstairs light clicks on, which means she probably woke up Loki. She may be seventeen, but he’s going to be pissed off, mostly because Nik, our younger brother, has football camp all summer and has to get up early.

  About a minute later, I hear the two of them arguing. I tell myself not to budge, that I’ve had hardly any rest, and the last thing I need to do is get involved in their argument. But about five seconds later, my good girl side creeps up and, with an exhausted sigh, I head inside to do what I do best—play mediator.

  Zhara

  By the time I break up the argument between Alexis and Loki, the stars have gone to sleep, and the sun has risen over the shallow hills that encompass our town. I'm so tired that all I want to do is go up to bed and sleep for the rest of the day; my insomnia is gone and now replaced with exhaustion. But I can't go to sleep until I take Nikoli to football practice, even though it's supposed to be Alexis’s turn to drive him. But since she’s still drunk and Loki has to open the bookstore, I volunteered.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with taking him?” Loki asks as he fills up a coffee pot with water. “I know you didn’t get very much sleep.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I fight back a yawn. “I always am.”

  He gives me a strange look as if he doubts I’m being truthful.

  "I am," I feel the need to say. But I'm lying. I haven't been fine in a while. Still, between school, work, and taking care of us, Loki has a lot on his plate. The least I can do is drive my little brother to football practice. So, I plaster on a plastic smile. "All I need is a cup of coffee, and I'll be good to go."

  Wariness floods his eyes as he shuts off the faucet. “Maybe I should have him ask one of his friends if he can get a ride.”

  Okay then. Apparently, I’m not a very good liar.

  That’s because you’re a good girl, Zhara, and good girls don’t lie.

  But, as my thoughts float back to Benton kissing me in the bathroom, I have to question how good of a girl I am. Doesn’t letting a guy I barely know kiss me make me the tiniest bit bad?

  “Loki, I promise I’m fine,” I try to lie better. “After I drive Nik, I’ll take a little nap. But honestly, all that yelling Alexis was doing has me wide awake.”

  He still doesn’t seem to buy my lie but decides to let the subject drop. “All right. But he needs to leave fifteen minutes early so he can stop at the store and buy a new water bottle.”

  “What happened to his old one?”

  “I ran over it.”

  “How?”

  He shrugs as he turns on the coffeemaker. “He left it in the driveway. I didn’t see it.” He leans against the counter. “I love that kid to death, but he seriously needs to stop leaving his shit in randomly weird places.”

  I nod in agreement. Nik is a good kid, but he forgets to clean up after himself a lot. “He probably should start working on getting his driver’s license. I don’t know why he hasn’t done it yet—he’s almost seventeen.”

  Loki shifts his weight, loosening the tie around his neck. “I have a theory on why he won’t.”

  “What is it?” I ask as I grab a couple of granola bars from the pantry.

  “I think he’s afraid.”

  “Of what?” I step out of the pantry and peel the wrapper off one.

  He releases a weighted breath. “I think he’s afraid of getting behind the wheel because of how Mom and Dad died.”

  My lips form an O. “I don’t know why I haven’t ever thought about that before, but it does make sense.” I break a chunk of the granola bar off and pop it into my mouth. “The rest of us had already at least taken a drivers ed class, but Nik was so young.”

  Loki nods in agreement then opens a cupboard to get two coffee mugs. “We need to find a way to help him get over his fear. Because with you going to college and Alexis … well, doing whatever she does, it’s going to get harder and harder to find rides for him.” He closes the cupboard, turns toward me, then frowns when he notes my expression. “Zhara, I’m glad you’re going to college. Will it be hard without you around? Probably. But the Bakers are tough, and you deserve to go.” He sets the mugs down on the counter. “You’ve worked so hard.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” I lie, my voice thick.

  He arches his brow. "You know, you've always been a terrible liar."

  “I have not.”

  “Have, too.”

  I don’t know why, but I feel offended.

  “Why? What gives me away?”

  He reaches over and taps my temple. “Your eyes and your expression—you have a terrible poker face.”

  “That’s not always true,” I tell him, remembering how I manage to trick Dee and Zen into believing I was Benton’s girlfriend. Or perhaps they didn’t believe me and were just pretending. Who knows, since I have no clue who Dee and Zen are.

  Loki crosses his arms, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “Oh yeah? What have you been lying about and getting away with?”

  “Umm …” What do I tell him? Not the truth, obviously. But, since he pretty much declared I’m the worst liar ever, how am I supposed to lie to him now?

  Gah!

  The doorbell rings, and I latch on to the opportunity to make a beeline out of the kitchen. “I’ll get it.”

  Loki’s laughter hits my back. “Saved by the bell.”

  I shake my head as I rush for the door. Why, oh why, do I have to be terrible at every bad thing? Parties. Lying. Failing a test, whi
ch yes, I tried once just to see if I could do it. I couldn’t bring myself to turn in the sheet with all my randomly picked answers, though, so I ended up telling the teacher I spilled my drink on my exam and asked for another one, which I filled out correctly and got one-hundred percent.

  Seriously, I have issues, in the sense that I don’t have issues.

  Maybe my mom was right. Perhaps I'm supposed to be a good, smart, follow-the-rules girl.

  I grimace as I open the door.

  Standing on the front porch is a man, probably in his late twenties, tall and lean, with sandy blond hair cut short. He’s decked out in all black, but in a sophisticated way—a black button-down shirt, topped off with a vest and tie, black slacks, and a pair of black dress shoes. The only thing that gives away his crisp, clean look is the tattoos peeking out of the cuffs of his shirt. He’s also sporting a pair of sunglasses, so I can’t see his eyes, but I swear it feels like he’s observing me as much as I am him.

  I fidget, tugging at the hem of my pajama shorts. “Um … Can I help you?”

  His lips pull into a flawless, almost rehearsed smile, and then he removes his sunglasses. “Hi, my name is Charles.” He offers me his hand to shake. “I just moved into the neighborhood and thought I’d come introduce myself.”

  I politely shake his hand, noting how rough his skin feels as if his palms are covered in scars. His grip is firm, and he holds on to my hand a little too long, but I don’t know how to ask him to let go without coming off as rude. So, instead, I stand there awkwardly.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” he says, finally releasing his weirdo grip from my hand.

  I lower my arm to my side and open and flex my hand. While he didn’t hurt me or anything, tension winds up my muscles like a clock. “Um … I’m Zhara.”

  “Zhara,” he says musingly, rubbing his freshly shaven jawline. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

  I laugh nervously, tugging at the bottom of my hoodie. “Thanks.”

  He winks at me. “Anytime, sweetheart.”