HIDDEN CREEK AGAIN: a hidden creek high novel

by Kidman, Jaxson

  We all started to laugh.

  Nero threw his arm around me. “Let’s blast the rest of this shit day and get to tonight.”

  “What’s tonight?” I asked.

  “Party at my place,” Turner said with a wink. He looked like a chunk of muscle.

  “You have time to party outside of Tech and the gym?” I asked.

  Lars laughed harder.

  “Fuck you, Lars,” Turner said. “We can’t take him outside in the wind. He’ll blow over. What are you now… eight feet tall? And you weigh forty pounds?”

  “Roids,” Lars said. “He forgot to read the side effects and now he’s pissed because his three-inch dick shrunk to one inch. Hard.”

  “You want to go down that road?” Turner asked.

  I put my hand out. “Hey, if we’re going to start pulling out our dicks, I’m going to reconsider this friendship. You guys can do whatever makes you happy, but I’m good with something else.”

  “Pussy and life, man,” Nero said with a laugh.

  “Amen,” I said.

  “I’ll catch you outside later,” Nero said. He nodded and the guys started to leave. Nero then stopped and snapped his fingers at me. “You really here about your brother?”

  “Why else would I be here?” I asked.

  “Right,” Nero said. “If I hear anything I’ll let you know. But he had a ton of enemies.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “No, man, I’m pretty sure everyone wanted their chance at taking him out.”

  “Yet all of you fuckers showed up to his funeral, huh?”

  Nero smiled. “I think we all did that to not look guilty.”

  “Smart,” I said.

  “Later, man,” Nero said.

  Ten seconds later I was back to being alone in the bathroom.

  Except now there was blood on the floor, two cigarettes burning in the sink, and a broken mirror.

  I turned on the water and killed the cigarettes.

  I stared at my jagged reflection in the mirror.

  And to think my old man was worried about me making friends here…

  * * *

  I figured the chances of seeing Nova at the party were slim to none.

  Even still, I was in the mood to get out of the house. And to put a little distance between myself and the situation I had created.

  Give Wes a chance to cool down.

  Give Nova some space.

  Because she hated space.

  For a surfer chick who talked a big game about being a loner and all that shit, she secretly hated it. She hated when she had to go home and be there without anyone with her. In her perfect world, there was always friends around.

  Or me.

  Then again… maybe I wasn’t on that list anymore.

  She had Conor now, right?

  Maybe he would be her spring thing. Before me. Before Summer Boy.

  I met up with Nero and his set of wheels looked like a damn tricked out school bus.

  The doors opened and out came Lars, Paxton, and Turner.

  Turner led the way to his house.

  Down along a twisty path of rocks and sand.

  The house was tucked way away from the normal HCH vibes and was close enough to the ocean to hear it but still a little bit of a walk away.

  There was a large group of people waiting for him.

  They cheered when they saw him.

  He walked up the porch of the vintage looking beach house and stuck his fingers into his mouth.

  He whistled and everyone shut up.

  “Let’s be safe tonight, gang,” he called out. “Iced tea and soda is in the cooler. We have plenty of gluten free crust pizza. Oh, and tonight you’re in luck. It’s game night! We’ll be playing all the classics. And remember… lights out by nine.”

  Everyone was dead silent.

  “He’s fucking around, right?” I asked, leaning into Nero.

  Turner pointed into the crowd. “You. Get up here. You’re wearing the wig tonight.”

  The wig?

  Some guy walked up the steps and looked pissed.

  Turner brought out a gray wig and stuck it on the guy’s head.

  “Who is this?” Turner called out.

  “Grandpa Waste!” everyone called out.

  “What the fuck is happening?” I asked Nero.

  “Just watch,” Nero said.

  “Turner likes the theatrics,” Paxton said.

  “And what do we do with Grandpa Waste?” Turner asked.

  Everyone screamed, “Kick his ass!”

  Turner stepped back and the guy in the gray wig stood on the edge of the steps.

  He bent forward and shook his head.

  Turner kicked the guy so hard he flew off the steps.

  Everyone cheered louder than ever as Turner opened the door.

  A few seconds later music started playing.

  The crowd pushed their way into the house, everyone trampling over the guy in the gray wig.

  I almost felt bad for the guy.

  “This is a little out there for me,” I said to Nero.

  “Nah,” Nero said. “Turner likes the big attention like that.”

  “His parents don’t love him,” Lars said. “Deep shit.”

  I laughed. “Join the fucking club.”

  We walked into the house and it was full.

  Everyone grabbing for food and drinks.

  As I figured, the iced tea and soda were being mixed with hard stuff. The pizzas were not gluten free. The music was loud and vulgar. And the only game I saw happening was a girl in a half shirt getting on the dining room table with Turner standing with a bottle of vodka announcing that the body shot bar was open for business.

  There was a nice mix of girls everywhere.

  All new to me.

  Me new to them.

  I hung in a corner near the back door and assessed the party.

  Nero wasn’t far away.

  One thing I picked up from him was he loved to get drunk really fast. Taking two drinks at a time until it caught up to him. His eyes then relaxed and he smiled a lot more.

  He pointed at me. “I’m fucking jealous of you, man.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You’re new to this,” he said. “These chicks here, man… they love new. Love it.” He put his arm around me. “Best part? Turner doesn’t play games.”

  “Meaning?”

  “We don’t give a shit who’s here. HCH. BFH. You name it…”

  “BFH?” I asked. “Why do I know that…”

  “Bay Falls High,” Nero said. “Stick around enough and you’ll see that war explode too. Damn, man, you showed up at a crazy time around here.”

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “Fuck yeah,” Nero said. “I mean, the shit with HCH and BFH has been really bad for a while. Then you’ve got your brother’s death. There was some crazy rumors and shit about Aira’s old man. Burning their house down. Sitting in jail now. What the fuck, right? And there’s still noise from your brother…”

  “What kind of noise?” I asked.

  “Talk, talk, talk,” Nero said. “Nobody knows a thing. But he was involved in some seriously bad shit.”

  “Was there money involved too?” I asked.

  “Money? For what?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. I’m going to get a drink. Then maybe find some company.”

  “Hell yeah, man,” Nero said. “Enjoy. Live it up. You’re one of us now. Anyone fucks with you, you tell me.”

  “I’d rather swing first, ask later,” I said.

  “Now that’s worth an amen,” Nero said.

  I walked to the kitchen and got another drink.

  When I turned, I felt someone hit my arm.

  I jumped back without spilling the drink.

  Some girl stood there, earbuds in her ears, eyes wide.

  “Shit!” she yelled. “Sorry!” She took the cup from my hand. “Thanks!”

  She tur
ned to walk away and I reached for her.

  Before I could touch her, Lars’s got in the way.

  He shook his head. “Not that one.”

  “What?”

  “That’s a bag of crazy you don’t want,” he said.

  “She took my fucking drink.”

  “Get a new one.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Trust me.”

  “I don’t trust anyone, Lars.”

  He got out of my way but the girl was halfway across the room. Earbuds still in her ears.

  “Who is she?” I asked again.

  “Noelle,” Lars said. “She’s got a crazy past. Crazy story.”

  “HCH?”

  “Tech,” Lars said.

  “No shit. I haven’t seen her.”

  “She’s way out there. She’s been in love with Wes for as long as anyone can remember.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked with a grin.

  Lars grinned back. “Broke her heart when he and Aira got tangled up. She used to never come to these parties. But recently she does. She listens to music, gets drunk, writes in her notebooks, and sleeps on the couch. Or she stumbles her way home.”

  “Thanks for the info, Lars,” I said.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked me.

  “Well, she stole my drink,” I said. “In my book, that means I got her a drink. And if I’m getting a girl drinks at a party, I’m going to hang out with her. Maybe steal a kiss or two. Maybe more. Maybe break her heart. Who the fuck knows, right?”

  “You know you might be more fucked up than your brother,” Lars said.

  I pointed at him. “Now you’re understanding.”

  I hurried through the house with my lip curled.

  Where did you run to, Noelle?

  Chapter 9

  Nova

  Conor made the afternoon romantic.

  He had a way of sensing things about me but also knew when to not ask me about things. I wondered if that was just him being a typical guy and forgetting to ask me about my feelings. If it was, then it was just lucky timing on his part. If it was more than that, then he was really a great guy. A great boyfriend?

  That label hadn’t been decided upon by us just yet.

  Of course, Carly felt otherwise. And because of that, I had Britt teasing me about Conor. In a loving way, of course. She reminded me of all the stories about Conor. When he was tall and scrawny. That he used to wear really big glasses. Of that one time when he saw me, he tried to run around the track really fast, wanting to beat the older track athletes. Except when he was going around a turn, he looked my way and lost his balance and fell really hard.

  It was so wrong to think about it now because we all just laughed at Conor and kept walking.

  Even Carly.

  But everyone went through an awkward stage.

  That was how life went.

  When girls like Charlotte started to blossom really early, leaving girls like me staring down at our chests wondering when things were going to pick up some speed. Or the acne. Waking up and freaking out because I was now suddenly able to connect the dots for hours.

  All of which… every single memory… they all somehow navigated themselves all the way to summer. Which was how the calendar went. So it wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t trying to track down Summer Boy in my mind. And even when I got to the summers, I forced my memory to just jump over them. Like a shitty wave. Not worth my time or effort.

  I was in the middle of the ocean, straddling my board, staring off into a horizon that people paid a lot of money to see. And this was basically my backyard.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Conor on the beach blanket.

  One knee bent, big, black, preppy, douchey boy sunglasses on his face. His hair in its perfect position, as always, barely moving in the breeze. A large, thin, white shirt, half unbuttoned and tan cargo shorts. His big, bare feet sticking up into the air.

  You know what they say about big feet…

  I rolled my eyes.

  I wouldn’t know.

  Conor and I…

  No.

  Well, not yet.

  Not that moves hadn’t been made.

  On both sides of the equation.

  I dipped my fingers into the water and bit my bottom lip.

  I turned the board around and swam my way back to shore.

  That, at least to me, was a sin.

  To swim to shore instead of riding a wave… no.

  But I did it anyway.

  Conor had been staring at his phone. But the second I climbed out of the water, he closed his screen, and flung the phone aside. He got to his feet, towel in hand, and lifted his sunglasses up into his hair. He always grinned when he saw me. Which was nice. I mean, it made me feel good about myself. Standing there in a two-piece bikini, sopping wet, I probably oozed the image and fantasy of sex on the beach. But whatever. It was nice to have that kind of attention.

  As Conor opened the towel, I walked toward him. I stuck my board into the sand and then slowly turned and backed up into him and the towel. He wrapped his arms and the towel around me and squeezed me just a little.

  “Looked great out there,” he said as he kissed my sopping wet hair.

  I laughed. “I didn’t even surf.”

  “So what? You out there in the water… damn. And then watching you walk from the water toward me… damn. Damn. Damn.”

  I turned my head. “Is that your attempt at flirting?”

  “Sadly, it is,” Conor said. “You leave me speechless, Novalee.”

  “Novalee?” I asked. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Yeah, you are,” Conor said. “For theft.”

  “Theft?”

  “Of my heart.”

  I opened my mouth but didn’t say anything.

  He was serious. This was his sweet flirty banter routine.

  I tilted my head and then looked forward again at the ocean.

  “Want to know the punishment?” he whispered.

  “Of course I do,” I said.

  “Three-to-five…”

  “Years in jail?” I asked.

  “No. Kisses.”

  Kisses?

  I cringed a little.

  Kisses?

  “Oh, okay,” I said. I slowly turned to face Conor. “No trial? No judge and jury?”

  “Nope,” Conor said. “You know you’re guilty, Nova.”

  “Red handed.”

  “I can’t see your hands right now.”

  I wiggled them from under the towel.

  Conor laughed. “You never get your nails done, do you?”

  “What?”

  “Your nails. They’re never painted. Or a little long. Or done up fancy.”

  I looked at my fingernails.

  I curled my lip a little.

  I was never a fan of my nails or my fingers. My fingers were kind of stubby. Almost like small man fingers. It always bothered me. And of course I wasn’t some girly girl. That kind of life passed me by a long time ago. I learned how to ride a bicycle without training wheels when I was three. I asked Santa for a skateboard when I was four. My mother suggested a dollhouse. I told her if Santa was really real and knew me, he’d know what to do. Christmas morning… a skateboard.

  Then came the love of the ocean.

  There was no leisure time on the beach for me.

  It was all about getting dirty, having fun, and challenging myself.

  Not to mention I sometimes chewed on my nails.

  Sometimes meant all time.

  I never understood the point of paying someone a hundred bucks to paint your nails only to have them get all messed up a day later.

  It wasn’t my style.

  “Nova?” Conor asked.

  “What?”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I just… uh… I don’t know. I just don’t really care about my nails that much. I guess.”

  “I think it’s cool,” Conor said.

  “Cool?” I asked.

>   “Yeah. You’re not fake. You are who you are. I mean, it’s not like you can wear makeup and go into the ocean, right? Or get fancy things done to your hair and stuff…”

  I looked up at Conor. “What’s with you and the word fancy? Something wrong with me?”

  “No,” Conor said. “I just said no. I think you’re perfect, Nova. I think everything… I mean… you… wait a second.” Conor shook his head. “Can we go back to flirting?”

  Asking to flirt…

  I tucked my hands into the towel and broke away from Conor. “It’s fine, Conor. I think I might go back into the water.”

  “I’ll be right here the entire time,” Conor said.

  I smiled at him. “You don’t have to be, Conor.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I don’t mind being alone. I’m usually alone here. It’s my thinking time.”

  “Oh yeah? What is your pretty mind be thinking about?”

  I swallowed hard.

  You drove me home while I was really drunk, Conor. You didn’t ask much about it or why it happened. You dropped me off like I was a pizza and left me there. You drove me into the fire but you couldn’t see the flames. Because you didn’t ask to see the flames.

  There was a difference between someone who would check under your bed for monsters versus someone who would just tell you there were no monsters. And, fine, maybe the first version is a spoiled little bitch, but is that really the worst thing for a minute in life?

  “Just because I surf doesn’t mean I’m brainless,” I said with a smile.

  Conor laughed. “Nova, you’re probably the smartest person I know.”

  “Then take a hint, Conor.”

  “Ooohhh,” he said. “That was a little rough.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “No judge and jury, right?”

  “What am I guilty of?” he asked.

  I laughed. “I don’t know.”

  “You want to be left alone,” he said. “I get it. I’m glad we got to hang out though. And it was just us. Not that I don’t like your friends. It’s just weird sometimes, you know? They kind of look at me as though…” Conor waved his hands. “Screw it. Doesn’t matter.”

  I knew exactly what he was talking about.

  And I could have said something.

  I should have said something.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, I grabbed my board and went back into the ocean.

  I looked back and watched him pack everything up.