Broken Dreams (Spiraling Book 2)
Page 12
“Oh.” My face relaxed.
“You forgive me?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
He gave me a peck on the lips before backing away, shutting the door, and walking to the driver’s side of the truck. Although he’d apologized, and I said I forgave him, I still had a knot in my stomach. He’d indirectly called me fat. Apologizing didn’t erase the words. He thought I was fat.
Why is he with me if he thinks I’m fat? He’s totally hot. He could be with somebody like Camber Flotsam. She’s the prettiest girl in town. And she’s not fat. She looks like a super model. He should be with someone like her. I’m a fat cow compared to her. Devon doesn’t even think I’m pretty anymore. He’s probably going to break up with me. My heart rate escalated. Oh, my God. He doesn’t like me anymore. I got too fat while he was in juvie. He thinks I’m ugly and gross. He’s just with me because he—
“You okay?” Devon’s question interrupted my silent pity party.
“Uh-hm,” I answered.
“That doesn’t sound convincing. Are you still upset?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He glanced at me, not convinced, but didn’t push the subject. We drove back to Chase’s trailer where the rest of the out-crowd had gathered. Devon had to park beside the rusted sedan because Jeremiah’s four-by-four beast took up half the front yard parked sideways. Devon cursed under his breath as he shut off his truck. He pushed his door open, stepped out, and turned around. “Come on.” He extended his arms, lifting me out of the truck and setting me in the spindly grass.
“Thanks.” I straightened my skirt.
We walked inside with Devon’s hand on the small of my back. He went to the kitchen to get a beer while I slid into the armchair close to the front door.
“Hey, Princess.” Jeremiah gave me a toothy grin. He held a beer in one hand and a half-smoked joint in the other. “How’s it hanging?”
“Um. It’s not,” I replied.
Jeremiah thought it was the funniest response ever. His boisterous laugh filled the room.
Devon returned. He waved his beer at me, instructing me to “hop up.” I stood so he could sit before I sat in his lap. He put his arm around me and his hand slid under my shirt to rest on my stomach. Jeremiah made a strange noise. When I glanced at him, his glare focused on Devon’s hand. Devon slipped his hand from under my shirt long enough to flip Jeremiah off, then returned it to its resting place. On my pudgy stomach. Jeremiah looked away and took a drink of his beer.
Devon’s lips brushed my ear. “He can go fuck himself. You’re mine.” His voice was barely a whisper and had a sensual growl to it that sent shivers down my spine.
He kissed the skin right below my ear. My breath hitched. The air grew hotter around me. My eyes flashed to the trio on the couch: Jeremiah, Jake, and Maimy. They were oblivious, gabbing about how to make potato chips as if it were a highly philosophical topic. Lexie stood in the kitchen doorway with Marshal, giggling at every word he said. Claire sat by the radio and flipped through stations. Carter and some boy I didn’t know chatted at the kitchen table. No one noticed or cared that Devon was slowly kissing his way down my neck.
I twisted to face him. His fingers grazed my stomach as our lips touched. I giggled. He smirked, mischief dancing in his eyes. Moving his hand, his fingertips swept my skin. The muscles in my abdomen twitched and my leg jerked, sending my knee into his ribs.
Devon grunted. Gripping my side, he put his head on my shoulder.
Oh, crap. I ran my hand over his hair and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine.” He took a slow breath.
“You two okay over there?” Maimy asked.
Devon forced himself upright. He masked his pain with a scowl. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Maim?”
“Why don’t you stop being a dick?” Maimy retorted.
“As if.” Claire laughed.
I snuggled against Devon’s side, set my hand on his chest, and looked at his so-called friends. What the heck is wrong with you people?
Maimy shot me a dirty look as if I annoyed her. I didn’t understand why though. As far as I knew I had done nothing to her. I opened my mouth to ask, but Jeremiah stood between us before I got the words out.
“I’ve got to piss,” Jeremiah announced.
“Good to know, Jer,” Maimy said. “Nobody cares.”
Devon picked up his beer and took a drink before lighting a cigarette. He watched Jeremiah walk into the kitchen. Jeremiah stopped behind Carter, setting his hand on Carter’s shoulder. Carter sank in his chair and said something I couldn’t hear to Jeremiah before grimacing. Devon’s eyes narrowed, and his muscles tensed.
Jeremiah released Carter’s shoulder. He continued through the kitchen into the back hall. Devon relaxed, but kept his eyes on our friend.
Worried what Devon would do if Jeremiah messed with Carter again, I distracted him. I wound my fingers through his on my stomach and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
“You, too, baby doll,” he replied.
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” I asked.
“I have to work a double.”
“Really?” I frowned.
He looked at me. “Yeah. Sorry, baby doll. I know it’s your birthday, but I couldn’t get out of it.”
I sighed. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’ll make it up to you on Sunday, all right?”
“Okay.”
I settled back against him. Yippee. The only person I want to spend my birthday with has to work all day. That’s just my luck. Because the universe hates me.
Twenty
“Tori! Tori! Tori!”
Colton and Candace smashed through my door.
“What the heck, guys?” I whirled around in my desk chair. “Get out of my room.”
“Mommy made a cake,” Candy said.
“She says we can’t have any until you come down.” Colt grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. “So, come on.”
“We want cake.” Candy pushed the back of my chair, helping Colt drag me across the room.
“Ow.” I groaned.
“Come on.” Colt leaned back.
“Stop pulling on me.” I wrenched my hand free of Colt’s grasp.
“But Mommy says we can’t have cake until you come downstairs.” Candy pouted.
“Stop being mean, Tori,” Colt said.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll come down.”
“Yea!” They raced out of my room.
“Tori’s coming,” Colt called as they tramped down the stairs. “We can have cake now!”
I turned to my desk, dropping my pencil on my open sketchpad. Not in the mood for family interaction, I followed my little brother and sister to the kitchen. My family gathered around the kitchen table with Joy, her three sisters, my aunt and uncle, Kennedy’s family, Grandma, Camber and her mother, Miranda, and a handful of girls I recognized whose names I couldn’t remember.
“Happy birthday!”
The sound of two dozen people shouting at the same time inside the confines of the dining room startled me. I stepped back into the kitchen doorway.
Mom swept around everyone else, grabbed my hand, and smiled. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It's a surprise party.” Mom’s face beamed with excitement. “We invited all your friends.”
I looked around the room. Not one person there was my friend. My mom wouldn’t have known that, though. Aside from Carter, she hadn't met anyone from the out-crowd. My eyes shot to Chris. He knew. He could have told her those girls weren’t my friends. Thanks a lot, jerk.
Chris shrugged.
“What about Carter?” I asked.
“He said he couldn’t be here at five, but he’ll come by later,” Mom answered.
I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment as I turned back to the crowd. Yeah. That’s right. I’d rather hang out with Carter than any of you people.
A three-layer round cake sat on the end of the table. It had pink frosting with strawberries arranged around the edge, “Happy Birthday Victoria” written in red across the top, and sixteen candles dripping multicolored wax.
“What do you think?” Mom looked at me expectantly.
I forced a smile. “Looks great.”
“Do you want to wait for Carter?”
The twins groaned.
I shook my head. “That’s okay. He can’t eat cake, so it wouldn’t make a difference.”
“All right. I guess we’re ready then.” Mom scanned the crowd, waving her hands as if she were conducting an orchestra.
An awkward moment of silence filled the room before Chris started singing. The rest of the group slowly joined in, including Camber and Miranda after Camber’s mother shot both a warning glare. I waited in front of my wax-laden cake until they’d finished. Then I blew out the candles and stepped back to let the vultures descend.
Mom cut the cake, making sure everyone had a piece. The twins and Chris were the only people to eat more than the first bite. I wasn’t sure what my mother had done, but the cake tasted like burnt flour. Even the frosting couldn’t save it.
Although no one said a word, it was obvious from my mother’s face she knew the cake was horrible. She pretended not to notice how many pieces went in the trash mostly untouched. Her own sat on the bar after she became distracted by party activities.
“Great party, Tori,” Camber said snidely when no adults could hear.
“Yeah. Great party.” Miranda snorted.
“That cake was amazing.”
They both giggled.
I shrugged. “So, my mom’s not a baker. She only has two PhDs and published three books before she was thirty. But, you know, your mom is so much better because she makes good cupcakes.”
Camber wrinkled her nose. “As if.”
“Enjoy the rest of my party, Camber.” I smiled and walked away from the rude girls.
Kennedy and Joy stood tucked into a corner. They’d never gotten along so I wondered why the two had paired up. My curiosity, along with a desire to steer clear of my mother’s idea of party games, led me to join them.
“Happy birthday, Tori.” Kennedy smiled.
“Thanks,” I grumbled.
“Didn’t your mom say Carter was coming?” Joy asked.
“That’s right.” Kennedy looked at her. “You and Carter are going out.”
“Shh.” Joy practically smacked Kennedy in the face when she covered Kennedy’s mouth.
“Aunt Jane doesn’t know,” I said. “Joy’s still not allowed to date.”
“Sorry. I forgot.” Kennedy mumbled around Joy’s hand.
“It’s okay.” Joy removed her hand and wiped it on the skirt of her dress.
“So, how’s that going to work if Carter shows up?” Kennedy asked.
“He won’t say anything,” Joy answered. “He knows about my mom’s rule.”
“And he’s cool with it?” Kennedy sounded skeptical.
Joy nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“I wouldn’t say he’s cool with it,” I said, and Joy whipped her head to look at me. “But he deals.”
“That’s pretty awesome of him.” Kennedy smiled.
“Yeah, he’s a pretty awesome guy,” I replied. “Right, Joy?”
“I think so.” Joy blushed.
“Tori, your boyfriend’s here.” Camber tittered from the kitchen doorway.
What?
I should have guessed she meant Carter. During the school year rumors of my secret relationship with Carter had been a source of amusement for the popular girls. They’d referred to him as “my boyfriend” on numerous occasions, followed by fits of giggling.
I left Joy and Kennedy standing in the corner, meeting Carter halfway across the front room.
“Happy birthday?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Here.” He held up a rectangular object wrapped in crumpled newspaper. “I know, my wrapping skills are so amazing you’re blown away.”
“Something.” I chuckled.
I took the present. The entire thing crinkled everywhere I touched it, which made perfect sense when I saw what was inside: a package of Oreo cookies.
“Cookies!” I smiled. “You know me too well, Carter.”
“You’re always stuffing your face, so I figured . . .” He shrugged.
Chuckling, I rolled my eyes at him. “Whatever.”
“Hi, Carter.” Mom stopped beside us, setting her hand on Carter’s shoulder. “I’m glad you could come. There’s cake in the kitchen if you’d like a piece.”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Blackwell.” Carter shook his head.
“Oh, that’s right.” Mom moved her hand from Carter’s shoulder to her chest. “I forgot. Tori told me earlier that you don’t eat cake, but she didn’t tell me why.”
“I have celiac,” Carter said.
“I think I’ve heard of that,” Mom replied. “I’ve never met anyone who had it, though. At least, not that I’m aware of. What exactly is it?”
Besides the time he’d explained it to me, I’d already heard Carter explain celiac disease at least a dozen times. I didn’t need to hear it again. I wandered back to Joy and Kennedy with the cookies tucked into my elbow.
“Carter gave you cookies for your birthday?” Kennedy wrinkled her brow.
“Yep.” I nodded.
“Why is he talking to your mom?” Joy asked.
“He’s telling her about his wheat thing,” I answered.
Kennedy cocked an eyebrow. “Wheat thing? What wheat thing?”
“Carter’s allergic to wheat,” I said. “He can’t eat anything made with flour.”
“He’s not really allergic to it.” Joy corrected me.
“Close enough,” I retorted. “Kenn doesn’t really care anyway? Do you, Kenn?” I glanced at Kennedy but didn’t give her the chance to respond. “Nope. Didn’t think so.”
I turned around, folded my arms across my chest, and scanned the room. Camber and Miranda squeezed together in James’ oversize recliner, both looking miserable. Good. The younger kids ran around the room, playing a game of tag. At least someone’s having fun. My grandmother, Aunt Jane, Mrs. Phillips, and Camber’s mom gathered near the mantle chatting. James and Uncle Peter stood in the kitchen doorway overseeing the crowd. They each held a can of beer. At least Mom didn’t forget this year. There’s that.
To liven the party, Chris carried his stereo downstairs. James frowned as Chris set it up on the table beside the door. He hadn’t been happy about Mom buying Chris a new one, but so far, Chris hadn’t given him a reason to smash it.
While my brother connected the speakers, Becky walked through the front door with a stack of CDs. I assumed she’d gotten them from her house. I doubted many from Chris’ collection would go over well with the adults. Chris searched through the stack, loading three into the disc changer and pushing play on the front of the stereo.
A second later The Spice Girls burst from the speakers. Chris turned down the volume, then looked around the room with a self-satisfied grin.
“That’s my CD,” Kennedy said. “She went in my room and stole my CDs.”
“She probably figured they’d go over better than hers or Chris’,” I replied.
“She could have asked.” Kennedy scowled.
I shrugged. “Yeah, well, at least we have music now.”
Aunt Jane approached Carter and my mom. From her expression of disapproval, I guessed she had something to say about the addition of secular music. Carter escaped my mother’s interrogation and joined Kennedy, Joy, and I in the corner.
“Hey.” He nodded at Joy, giving no indication the two of them were more than acquaintances.
“Hi.” Joy smiled.
“Hi, Carter,” Kenned
y said. “How have you been?”
“Not sleeping with Tori,” Carter answered.
My mouth fell open. Joy gasped. Kennedy blinked.
“I never—” Kennedy stammered.
“I almost got my ass kicked because of you,” Carter said. “Don’t think we’re going to be friends because Joy likes you. She’s a lot more forgiving than I am.”
You tell her, Carter.
“I’m sorry,” Kennedy replied.
I expected her to make excuses, explain why she’d said the things she did, and make herself out to be the victim, but she didn’t. She walked away.
“You can be really mean sometimes,” Joy said.
Carter looked at her. “I can’t stand fake people.”
“She feels bad about what she did,” Joy replied. “She’s trying to make up for it but it’s kind of hard when you two won’t let her.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Joy,” I said. “You weren’t the one she was spreading rumors about.”
Carter shook his head. “It’s not even the rumors. It’s her. I don’t trust her.”
“Neither do I,” I replied.
Joy frowned. “It’s not healthy to hold grudges.”
“It’s not healthy to let people stab you in the back either,” I said. “If you want to be friends with her, Joy, that’s fine, but don’t expect us to.”
Joy slouched, letting out a sigh. “All right. I think it would make you feel better, but if you’re dead set on not forgiving her . . .”
I rolled my eyes, glancing over the party again. The music hadn’t improved the overall feeling of boredom. Camber and Miranda continued sulking, the adults continued chatting in small groups, the girls I didn’t know stood with their arms folded across their chests, and the little kids had gone in the twins’ room to play. Next to the stereo, Chris and Becky searched the stack of CDs, laughing at Kennedy’s choice in music. They seemed to be the only two having a good time.
“I’ll be back.” I looked at Joy and Carter. “I’m going to put these away.”
They both nodded.
I carried my cookies into the kitchen. James scowled at me as I passed but didn’t offer any insults or demands. Opening the pantry door, I put the cookies on the highest shelf I could reach—away from the twins’ greedy fingers—and turned to go back to my party. Then stopped. It wasn’t my party. It was a gathering of people I didn’t like who didn’t like me. Why was I in a rush to get back? Carter and Joy had each other to keep company. Everyone else could fend for themselves.