HIDDEN CREEK AGAIN: a hidden creek high novel

by Kidman, Jaxson

  “When I’m ready to steal your heart again, babe, you’ll know.”

  She laughed. “Let me make this clear. Really clear, Elijah. If you’re here because of me… and I mean in any way, shape, or form… then leave. Your brother was a bad person. And I’m sorry he died. But everyone knew something was going to eventually happen. You’ll never find out what actually happened to him. Your par… father and his mother… they took care of everything. So let it go, Elijah. And just leave. Go. You’re not the Summer Boy anymore.”

  “Then what am I, Nova?” I asked.

  “A memory. And I don’t want to relive any memories. Ever.”

  She turned and ran.

  As she got into her ride, started it and sped away, she tried to hide the fact she was crying.

  And I got it… in my head, it made sense.

  Take the hint. Feel the punch. Shit, it was the second time she punched me. And I was still standing there. And I wasn’t going to go anywhere either.

  Too proud? Too stupid? Too stubborn?

  Too in love.

  Chapter 13

  Nova

  “You sure you don’t need a ride?” Charlotte asked me.

  She was stumbling more than usual, which wasn’t a good thing for her.

  I laughed and grabbed her arm. “I’m good. You need a ride home.”

  “She’s getting more than a ride home,” Flynn said as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  She let out a playful yell and buried her face into his chest.

  “You’re so gross,” she said.

  “But you like it that way,” Flynn said.

  He winked at me.

  “Did you drink anything?” I asked.

  “Only Charlotte’s beauty,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “She’s going to fuck you so cut the nice guy shit.”

  “Someone’s bitter and jealous,” Flynn said as he turned, taking Charlotte with him.

  Wes dumped water on the fire.

  It protested for a second and then left with a cloud of smoke.

  “We can head back to Julia’s,” Aira said. “As long as we stay outside and stay quiet.”

  “No way, darling,” Wes said. “You’re coming with me. I’m stealing you away.”

  “I’m not getting on a motorcycle with you,” Aira said. “You better go walk it all off.”

  “You too,” Wes said.

  They started bickering and eventually kissed.

  Wes walked Aira down to the water.

  “Barf,” Emma whispered to me.

  I looked at her and shrugged my shoulders. “And I’m the sober one tonight, huh?”

  “Feel like giving me a ride home?” Emma asked.

  I heard Walker snicker.

  I looked at him. “Really?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “That sounded hot.”

  “Your face doesn’t look too hot,” Emma said.

  “But it’s still sort of hot, right?” Walker asked.

  “I’ll take that ride now,” Emma said to me.

  “Oh, you’re killing me,” Walker said.

  We ignored him.

  He and Ryker still looked roughed up from their incident up at Tech.

  All I knew was Elijah had somehow gotten in the middle of a fight.

  It didn’t shock me. But it did add more tension to everything else going on.

  “Come on,” I said to Emma.

  I grabbed her hand.

  Leo was making sure the fire was completely out.

  Ryker had his hands all over Kailey, who looked ready to just fall down on the beach right there, legs spread, with a big hello there sign.

  I helped Emma into the passenger seat of my ride and drove her home.

  She had her head to the right, still awake, just bobbing along with the bumpiness of the road.

  “They only called because they were drinking,” I said.

  “What?” Emma asked.

  “The whole thing is so fucked,” I said. “With Wes and Elijah. Aira in the mix of it all because of Ryland. Wes’s cousins. Fights. Me. They weren’t going to call me. But they got drunk and let their guard down.”

  Emma reached across the seat for my hand. “Yeah. That’s all true. Sorry.”

  “I get it,” I whispered.

  After a good minute in complete silence, Emma said, “I hope he’s worth it.”

  “Worth what?” I asked. “He doesn’t live here, Emma. He’s not staying.”

  “He’s not leaving either,” she said with a laugh.

  I thought about what Elijah had done to Conor.

  Just showing up and beating him up. Making him text me.

  What a cheap fucking move…

  Emma patted my hand. “Don’t worry, Nova. It all works out. Sometimes they’re right. You remember Eric, right? You were there. What happened with him.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah. I remember.”

  “See? Sometimes we think the wrong guy is right. And our friends help us.”

  “That’s it then, huh?” I asked. “Makes sense. Sure. And that’s it? You just walk away?”

  Emma turned her head. “I wasn’t in love. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love. Or anyone has actually ever loved me.”

  I pulled into Emma’s driveway and felt the conversation taking a really hard twist. “Hey. Go sleep it all off. Don’t be like me. Don’t get drunk and start poking at your emotions.”

  Emma laughed. She showed me her phone and laughed harder.

  “What?” I asked.

  She leaned toward me. “You can hide your emotions with the right sized dick.”

  “Wh…” I gasped. “What did you just say?”

  Emma winked. “One quick text and I don’t need to worry about being alone.”

  “Who did you text?” I asked.

  “Shhh,” she said. “Thanks for the ride home. Love you, Nova. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing for her arm. “Be careful.”

  “No,” she said. “No need for that. I’ve got a baseball bat under my bed. And under my pillow. Trust me, I never have to worry about anything going wrong. It’s my way or you get smashed in the fucking head.”

  “Okay,” I said. “See you later then.”

  Emma stumbled her way up the porch steps, eyes down on her phone.

  I waited until she was inside and then I started to drive.

  There was nowhere else for me to go.

  I had to go… home…

  * * *

  It was always a fifty-fifty chance.

  No other way it could be.

  And it wasn’t heaven or hell either.

  It was a version of hell.

  The bad one.

  Or the really bad one.

  My right foot touched the first step and I heard a sound.

  My heart stopped for a second.

  I turned my head and squinted down the long hallway into the darkness.

  I didn’t believe in ghosts or monsters.

  I never got the chance to.

  “Mom?” I called out.

  I heard a groan.

  I shut my eyes.

  When I opened them, I looked up the wide steps to the open landing that sprawled a good portion of the length of the house. Where there were perfectly placed chairs and tables next to the windows with fresh flowers in vases. Tables only used when the cleaning people wiped them down. Chairs that were never sat in. Flowers that stood there in the sun only to die a week later and be replaced.

  I swallowed hard and felt my teeth chatter.

  “Novalee… don’t go up there…”

  I nodded.

  Okay then, Nova. It’s the really bad hell tonight.

  I wasn’t in the mood for any of it, but when was I ever? Who would be in the mood for this?

  I slowly walked down the hallway and couldn’t find my mother.

  “Mom?” I called out.

  “In here,” her weak voice said.

>   To my left.

  The door was open.

  One of the walk-in closets. I saw her feet sticking out of the closet. But there wasn’t enough light to actually see her.

  See how bad it was.

  I reached into the room to the right and felt the button on the wall.

  I sucked in a breath and had no choice but to press the button.

  The light came on and I looked down at her.

  I was so numb to it all I didn’t bother covering my mouth. I didn’t burst into tears either. I didn’t feel anger or pain or hate or… anything.

  There were always those first few seconds when she wouldn’t even look at me.

  Because she felt ashamed by it all. Because somewhere inside her heart she knew she had to do something but she wasn’t sure what. Because it all seemed so fucking easy to do but it wasn’t. It wasn’t easy to leave. It wasn’t easy to just pack a bag and walk away. Especially when you were used to living a life that required a bank account with more than two commas in the balance column.

  To her there was always enough makeup.

  Always enough excuses.

  It’s not like it happens every single night…

  “Mom,” I said.

  She finally looked at me.

  The middle of her bottom lip was split wide open. Her left cheek swollen like a purplish golf ball. The corner of her left eye looked bloody. Like her actual eyeball. And her hair… it was obvious where it had been pulled.

  Her shirt was ripped.

  Sitting there, halfway in the closet, hiding.

  Missing one of her fancy black shoes that probably cost a few hundred bucks. The shoes she probably picked out last time this happened. As a reward for suffering through it and for keeping her mouth shut about it.

  “Mom…”

  She lifted her right hand. “Novalee. Please.”

  “Please what?” I asked. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Come here,” she whispered.

  She licked her busted lip and winced in pain.

  I crouched down and reached for her hand.

  Her fingers were crooked and red. She had been trying to fight back. But that wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

  I reached for her face and stroked the cheek that was swollen.

  “Mom… why…”

  My chin quivered.

  “Shhh, Novalee,” she whispered back. “He’s still home.”

  That made it even worse.

  In the beginning he used to leave. As though he were maybe ashamed of what he had done to the woman he married. To the woman who gave birth to his only child. To the woman he was supposed to have a great life with. They were fucking rich. Together. They had more money than they could ever spend. They lived in a mansion on the beach.

  There was no… reason for this…

  And when he’d leave I could help Mom. I could get her cleaned up. And get her into bed. Stay with her. Watch movies. Find ways to laugh. Talk about life. And do everything needed to ignore the truth and the elephant in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  But now he stayed.

  So arrogant and thinking he was so fucking tough.

  He would do what he did and then go upstairs and shower.

  Change his clothes and act like nothing had happened.

  I looked back and felt my lip curl.

  “No, Novalee,” Mom said. “You can’t be thinking…”

  “When does it stop?” I asked. “Tell me when it stops.”

  “Shhh… I was waiting for you.”

  “Why didn’t you text me?” I asked.

  “He said not to. He took my phone.”

  I shut my eyes for a second.

  “Okay… let’s get you up,” I said. “The bathroom is right-”

  “Let her go.”

  Every hair on my body stood up.

  Then I stood up.

  I turned.

  I wasn’t afraid of him.

  But I knew the consequences of pushing at him.

  Him.

  My father.

  He would just take it out on Mom.

  Never the one to raise a hand to me. He knew better. I’d break his fucking jaw into pieces in seconds. But he knew how to get to me. And that was through her.

  “What are you doing home, Novalee?” he asked. “Did she call you?” He looked beyond me. “Do you have a fucking secret phone somewhere, bitch?”

  “No,” I yelled. “Early night for me. My friends got drunk. I didn’t. So I came home. I had no idea about this.”

  My father looked at me. “Well, wipe that look off your face. Doctor Harold is coming soon.”

  I swallowed hard. “Are you serious?”

  “Not as bad as you think, huh?” he asked with a grin.

  My father turned and walked away.

  My body started to shake.

  So he could do… that…

  I looked down at Mom again. She had her head back against the bottom of the fancy and expensive coats. Taking deep breaths, trying to fight through the pain.

  So he thought he could do that to her and then just call a doctor to fix it all.

  That was a new level of low.

  I crouched down again and touched Mom’s leg.

  She jumped and screamed.

  “It’s just me,” I said.

  If you were ever a kid, you probably scared your parents, right? Sneak up and play a prank? Not me. There was one time I tried that on Mom. While she was cooking. She screamed, dropped a plate, and burst into tears. And then she slapped me across the face and cried even harder.

  I showed Mom my hands as she regained her bearings.

  “How many times has Dr. Harold been here?” I asked her.

  She shook her head.

  “Answer me.”

  “Novalee…”

  “I’m going to call the police.”

  “No,” she said. “You stop talking like that right now.” She leaned forward and cried in pain. “Don’t…”

  “How many times?” I asked again.

  “A few,” she said. She blinked fast. Her eyes were the same bright blue as mine. “I shouldn’t have fought back. Okay? Do you understand that?”

  I stood up. My body ran cold again.

  That was the next step in the process.

  Forceful guilt.

  It was never my father’s fault.

  It was always Mom’s fault.

  And she always did it to herself. She found a reason to take the guilt from him.

  I knew it was her only way to protect herself.

  To find a reason. To lean into the guilt.

  “Mom, look at me,” I said.

  She listened.

  I pictured her as the beautiful woman in the pictures throughout the house. The woman who was once a total beach babe. The woman who surfed. The woman who planned on traveling the coast, never knowing where she was sleeping that night, and never caring. The woman who sat at a tiki bar one night and a guy in suit walked up to her and bought her a drink. The woman who used that man for money and fun for a while until he surprised her with a giant diamond ring. The woman who battled the beach bum life and the soon-to-be rich woman wife life.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “Oh, Novalee, I love you with all of my heart,” she said.

  I heard the gong chime of the doorbell.

  It was followed by the booming laugh of my father’s voice.

  “Go,” Mom whispered. “I’ll be fine.”

  I got the fuck out of there, but I wasn’t going to disappear.

  I hid and listened.

  “Well, Jesus, Leslie,” Dr. Harold said with a laugh to Mom. “Let me get you cleaned up. Looks like you might need a stitch or two. No worries though. It’ll be all covered up. You better take it easy on those steps.”

  Dr. Harold and my father laughed.

  Dr. Harold knew the truth…

  “Let me get us a drink,” my father said.

  “Sure thing,
Tim. Then maybe we can talk about our next outing. I can get us a tee-time this weekend. Private course.”

  “That’s a plan,” my father said.

  They were talking golf.

  While Mom sat there, half dead.

  I went outside but again, I didn’t hide.

  I walked around to the front of the house.

  I spotted Dr. Harold’s little two-seater sports car. Baby blue color with white, leather seats.

  Messing with his car wouldn’t get me anywhere.

  I took my phone out of my pocket and looked at Elijah’s name.

  He’d do something though. He’d go after Dr. Harold. My father. All I need to do is… tell him…

  I hurried to get away from Elijah’s name.

  I caught myself looking at Conor’s name.

  Where r u

  The text was sent.

  I wasn’t sure if he’d reply.

  But he did.

  Out - what do u want

  I nodded.

  I deserved any of the hate Conor wanted to throw my way.

  We should talk. In person. Be real. K?

  I waited for what felt like hours for him to reply.

  He did so with a K.

  I sighed.

  I started to type my first message again when Conor wrote back where he was.

  Some party on the beach.

  That made me laugh.

  Because the parties on the beach were the same as the houses. It was all based on who you hung out with. So guys like Wes and his crew… they had the good parties. The crazy ones. The fun ones.

  But guys like Conor?

  Yeah, they’d sit around and drink. A little. Then they’d talk about life. The solar system. About technology. They’d try to come up with ideas to cash in on.

  Behind me, the door opened.

  I turned and faced Dr. Harold.

  He was taller than me. Old and flabby. Corruption in his eyes.

  “Hey there, Novalee,” he said. “Your mom is going to be just fine. She’s a tough one.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Take care of yourself,” Dr. Harold said. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “Thanks for coming over,” my father called out.

  Dr. Harold waved an envelope over his shoulder.

  Cash.

  Hush money.

  “I’ll call you about golf, Tim,” Dr. Harold said.

  Dr. Harold walked by me and I stared at my father.

  He was holding a glass of rum.