With a sigh I started forward, hoping Emma would wither away and disappear. I had no idea where I was going, but anywhere else had to be better than trying to make small talk with a stranger.
“How’s that working for you? You know, living with your aunt.” Emma called. She pushed herself away from the tree to catch up with me. Considering the length of her slender legs, she covered twice the ground I did, and she was in my face again before I could think of a solid plan to ditch her.
“It’s working well, thank you,” I lied. Although I’d tried to sound confident, my pathetic play didn’t seem to work.
“Care to explain?” asked Emma. I shook my head without stopping, feeling irritated.
“Nope.”
“Where are you headed?” she pressed. I rolled my eyes and stopped in mid-step to pull my schedule from my pocket. The social worker had printed it off for me back in Michigan.
“History,” I said. “With Mr. Devereaux.”
“No shit? Me too. I’ll show you the way.”
It took everything I had not to groan aloud as Emma started toward the main building, chattering away as she walked. Her face was to the wind, so I couldn’t hear a word she said, but I didn’t care enough to have her repeat herself. I also couldn’t help but notice all the heads that turned as she strutted her stuff, especially from the guys.
I followed her into the classroom, hoping she had friends she would sit with so I could face the day alone. For most people, being alone was a curse. For me, I felt best when I was alone, especially recently.
“Here we are,” Emma said. I was about to part with her to claim an empty desk when she grabbed my arm and pulled me over. She was strong, nearly yanking me off my feet as she did so. I stumbled once and caught myself, rapping my knuckles on the teacher’s desk and accidentally knocking the garbage pail over simultaneously. I was sure that by the next morning I would have a bruise or two.
“Jesus,” Emma said. “Need a hand?” She frowned at me as if I was a little bit daft and then, still holding my arm, she maneuvered me to the left. “Olivia, this is Jake Devereaux,” she said, and nodded toward a handsome, middle-aged man standing at the blackboard. He wore merely Levi’s and a T-shirt, looking as laid back and relaxed as the rest of the class. His shaggy brown hair was almost falling into his eyes as he turned and smiled at us. Handsome. Charming. A teacher? Hmmm.
“Mr. Devereaux, Emma,” he corrected her. “I told you kids; we can’t be on a first name basis in the classroom. The principle disapproves, even if ‘Mr.’ does make me sound so old…” He furrowed his brow and scratched the scruff on his chin. Then, seeming to remember I was still standing in front of him with a dumb look on my face, he smiled at me.
“She’s the new girl,” Emma said. “All the way from Michigan.”
“Welcome, Olivia,” said Mr. Devereaux. “We’re happy to have you here.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say I was glad to be there, so I settled with a smile and a nod before taking a seat at an empty desk next to Emma. A few strange kids glanced at me, but less with curiosity and more with aloof superiority.
“Welcome to Seattle,” someone said behind me.
I turned in my seat, meeting the grin of a boy with shaggy black hair. He had on glasses that he’d taped together on the sides and sported a Star Wars T-shirt that looked old and worn. He held out his hand and I took it. His skin was warm against mine, hands calloused, but comforting.
“That’s Jesse,” Emma said from across the aisle. She looked bored as she twirled her hair and popped some gum into her mouth. Jesse smiled at me again, dropping my hand.
“I’m Jesse,” he confirmed. “Aren’t you cold in that outfit?”
“No,” I said. My tone was defensive as I made a half-assed attempt to pull myself together. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
I turned back around, annoyed all over again. From the corner of my eye, I saw Emma exchange an amused glance with the boy behind me, but I ignored it. I didn’t care to impress either of them.
I kept my head down and my chin tucked during the rest of class, hoping I could fade into my surroundings. Three times the kid behind me, Jesse, raised his hand to answer whatever stupid question the teacher asked. Emma busied herself the whole time picking at her black-painted fingernails, and I didn’t look up from the pencil mark on my desk.
As the minutes ticked by, I didn’t catch even one-word Mr. Devereaux said. My mind was elsewhere, lost in a sucking black hole of nothingness. I didn’t even notice the inquiring—and a few snide—expressions from the classmates around me. At least, I tried not to… until somebody threw a wad of paper at the back of my head and Emma called them a name that not even Audrey would repeat in front of us.
Lunchtime came after the third period, and I stayed close to Emma’s side despite my less than enthusiastic first impression. In a school this size, where everyone was a stranger, I could at least find some comfort knowing that at least now I had Emma. As far as making any other friends for the day, however, the mere thought of it only exhausted me. The kid Jesse seemed to be good friends with Emma, and he stuck with us when he could. That was all right with me. He was kind and goofy and put my nerves at ease.
At lunchtime, we took a seat in a far booth, away from the crowd of people. As I chewed on a dry baby carrot, scoping the lunchroom, Emma had her nose in a book and Jesse was busy scrutinizing his pepperoni pizza.
“Do you think it’s edible?” he asked. I looked up at him, but Emma’s gaze didn’t waver from her book.
“You ask that every week. And every week you still eat it.”
“One of these times I’m going to eat it and end up dead,” Jesse said. He looked at me and flashed a smile. “Death by pizza.”
“If you’re gonna go out, it might as well be by pizza.”
“He’s neurotic,” Emma said. She finally looked up from her book to meet my gaze. “That’s something you should probably be aware of. It never goes away.”
“Neurotic?” I said. “Or just cautious?”
Jesse looked over at Emma, adjusting the glasses on his nose.
“I like her,” he said. “We can keep her.”
“I’m flattered.” I was about to get up to dump my tray when a loud laugh from a nearby table caught my attention. I looked over, and so did Emma and Jesse. Sitting at the table not far from us was a boy, a cute boy, and I must have lingered a few seconds too long because after a moment, Emma spoke up.
“That’s Elijah,” she said.
I tore my gaze away and looked at her, dropping the carrot stick back onto my tray with a sigh. “What are you talking about?”
“I think she’s talking about the male specimen you were just ogling,” Jesse said. He took a hefty bite of pizza and wrinkled his nose but chewed and swallowed anyway.
“I wasn’t ogling.” I slouched down in my seat, sliding my gaze from the guy across the cafeteria, the good-looking one with the nice laugh.
“Elijah Durham,” Emma said again. She gnawed absently at her cheeseburger. I’d gone with the meatloaf, but I wasn’t sure it was any more edible than the rest of the stuff they tried to pass as food here. “Elijah is the biggest hottie in school.”
“He’s so handsome,” Jesse mocked, putting a hand over his heart. “He’s my dream man, don’t you know?” He sighed wistfully, and Emma leaned over to punch him in the arm.
“He’s probably the biggest jerk, too,” I said, sipping my milk. At least that tasted safe. Almost.
“No, not Elijah,” Emma said. “He’s a sweetheart. But don’t waste your time. He’s taken.”
“By who?”
A mob of people surrounded Elijah, but he was sitting by himself. Or, more precisely, no high school cheerleader was clinging to his hand or sitting in his lap.
“Well not literally.” Jesse sighed as if this was something I should have studied up on before transferring. “See that beautiful girl to the left of him? Blond hair, blue eyes… the beauty que
en?”
“She’s hard to miss.”
“That’s Gwen Riley ‘Hyphen’ Patz,” Emma cut in. “She’s Elijah’s ex-girlfriend.”
“‘Hyphen’ Patz?” I repeated.
Emma smirked. “Her mother’s husband is known around here by Patz. He’s one of the richest men in the city. He’s not related to Gwen at all, but—”
“She wants to be noticed by that name.”
“Yep.” Emma cracked her knuckles and leaned back in her chair. “She’s clinically insane. Can you tell?”
I looked from her to Jesse, who was staring me down, looking thoughtful. His hair was wild about his head like he’d just rolled out of bed. It was cute in an innocent, charming way… just not as cute as Elijah.
“What’s the deal with her and Elijah, then?” I asked, turning back to Emma.
“They’re separated for the moment, but it won’t be long until she’s back in his arms. She’s got Elijah wrapped around that little finger of hers. Poor guy. No girl here stands a chance with him as long as she’s in the picture.”
“I’m sure he’ll live,” I muttered. “It’s not like she’s a dog or something.”
“True,” Jesse said, nodding in agreement. “But she’s definitely a bitch.”
I picked up my fork to take a bite of cold mashed potatoes, fluttering my eyelashes at my two companions. “Do you want my surprised look?”
She and Jesse both chuckled.
“You’re pretty funny, Olivia,” Emma said. “Not like I expected.”
“I have my moments.”
Emma leaned forward on her elbows, smiling. I could smell the patchouli oil from where I sat, and it soothed me. “Are you ready to tell me the story of why you’re here living with an aunt?” she asked.
There was a moment of silence, and Jesse put down his carton of milk to focus his gaze on me. I felt like an ant under a magnifying glass suddenly, trapped, and ready to burst into flames. Clearing my throat, I pushed my tray to the side and stood up, forcing the best smile I could.
“Thank you for having lunch with me,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Even though part of me felt sorry for blowing them off, an even bigger part of me was angry. Angry at them. Angry at Noah and Audrey. I was angry at the world. Every hour that passed, every moment that fluttered by reminded me I was still alone. My parents were gone, and I hated them for it. I couldn’t think of their faces without wanting to cry and scream, and my heart ached constantly with loneliness. I wanted to see them. I wanted to hold them. I wanted my parents back, and I wanted my life back. Every second here was another second to remind me that things would never be the same, no matter how many people I met or friends I made. It didn’t matter; none of it did.
Not anymore.
I found my next two classes easy enough but missed the last one because I was lost on the other side of the building. I had Jesse in one class, but after his weak attempt at small talk, neither of us tried to continue to make conversation. Try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to care. Back in Michigan I had been a good student and a good friend. Smart. Dedicated. Here, I could barely get through the day alive—and the hell was only beginning.
I met Noah in front of the high school building after school, in the same place Audrey had dropped us off that morning. We took a seat together on the curb, ignoring the wet grass on our butts, and waited in silence. I wanted to converse with my kid brother, talk about something, anything, but the odds of him talking about it now were looking dim, so I kept my mouth shut and eyes forward as we waited. I didn’t have the energy to fight with him, and all Noah wanted to do lately was fight.
The seconds ticked by, and there was still no sign of Audrey after twenty minutes. By now, the buses had pulled away, and vehicles had emptied the parking lot. I glanced at my watch, wishing, though not for the first time, that I had a cell phone on me. Next to me, Noah had his eyes trained on his music player, as if he cared little either way if we were picked up or were left out there to die.
After another few minutes, I stood up, squinting into the distance for Audrey’s car. My heart was thudding in my chest, anger boiling in my ears. I looked down at Noah, wondering if he was even the least bit concerned. He didn’t seem to be, which irked me even more.
“Where’s Audrey?” I asked him. Noah looked up from his iPod. His eyes narrowed as he glared at me.
“Why are you asking me?” he snapped. “I don’t freaking know where she is. God.”
“She didn’t tell you that she was going to be late?” I asked.
“Nope.” Noah yanked one ear bud from his ear and continued to glare at me. “Maybe she forgot about us.”
“She didn’t forget about us,” I said, but the insecure part of me was begging to differ. “Maybe she just got held up.”
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “Probably at her strip club with a huge bottle of rum.” His tone carried a hint of sarcasm and bitterness, even some anger. “Or maybe she forgot about us, Liv.”
“Adults don’t just forget about things like this,” I said. “That’s like forgetting your baby in the car or—”
“Is everything okay here, guys?”
I turned and spotted my history teacher, Mr. Devereaux, approaching us from behind. He was carrying a backpack over one shoulder and was tossing a ring of keys back and forth between his hands. Before I could answer him, Noah spoke up.
“We’ve been forgotten,” he said.
“Someone forgot you?” Mr. Devereaux repeated. “As in, your parents forgot to pick you up?” I flinched when he said “parents,” and then flinched again when he said “forgot.” Our real parents would never have pulled something like this, and I couldn’t help but be bitter about it.
“Our aunt,” I said. “We’re living with her now. She must have just spaced it. She’s not used to having kids around.” I didn’t know why I was defending Audrey, but letting Noah speak ill of her was not okay with me. People made mistakes, even adults. But I felt relieved when he didn’t ask about the situation. I was tired of talking about it, especially to people who had no business knowing.
Mr. Devereaux smiled and hitched a free thumb over his shoulder. “C’mon,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“We’re not supposed to ride with strangers,” Noah said. He stood up next to me, his freckled face challenging. I wanted to shove him and hug him simultaneously.
“You’re welcome to stay here,” Mr. Devereaux said. He put his hands in the air, surrendering. “But it gets awful cold in Washington at night.”
I cleared my throat, and Noah let out a “harrumph” before he flung his pack over his shoulder.
“Okay,” he said. “But no funny business.” Hiding a giggle, I followed Noah and Mr. Devereaux to his car. Noah climbed into the back seat, still brooding, and I joined the history teacher up front. It was a Prius, much roomier than Audrey’s Mustang, and it warmed quickly, putting the goose bumps on my arms at ease.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, buckling in. “I don’t have a phone.”
“It’s no problem. I’m glad I saw you guys before I left.”
“Mom said that modern technology is the rotting apple on the tree of life,” Noah recited from the back seat. “That’s why you don’t have one, Liv.”
“Shut up,” I said. Instead of snapping at us for fighting, Mr. Devereaux laughed.
“Your mother sounds like an intelligent woman,” he said. “I couldn’t agree more with that statement.” Noah shut his mouth then, but the damage was done. I felt a pang in my heart, and tears pressed against the back of my eyes.
“She’s dead,” I said. I knew it was inevitable. “Her and my father both. A car accident a month ago.”
Silence. Then, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I shrugged, not wanting to get too far into the “I’m sorry” and “that’s terrible” conversation. It was so cliché. But I didn’t have to worry. Mr. Devereaux didn’t seem to have any intention of digging too far
into the dead parents’ discussion.
“It’s this one right here,” Noah said as we approached Audrey’s townhouse. Mr. Devereaux pulled over and shut off the engine.
“Do you mind if I come in and meet your guardian?” he asked. I felt a sudden twinge of worry in the pit of my stomach, and even Noah hesitated, but it was gone before it was even there. He shrugged and hopped out of the car, leaving me to deal with the inquiry. It was no concern of his. Little was anymore.
“Sure,” I said. “But I don’t know if she’s home.” I hoped she wasn’t, for Mr. Devereaux’s sake. But if she was, at least she was here and not at the club. That would look bad on all of us, and I would not go into details.
The front door was unlocked, so we stepped inside. All the while, I prayed that inviting Mr. Devereaux in wasn’t a mistake. I heard Audrey rummaging around in the kitchen from where we stood. Noah went straight up to his room, but Mr. Devereaux followed me toward the suspicious sound of breaking dishes. We walked in just in time to hear Audrey curse as she was taking a hot baking sheet of cookies out of the oven. A loud clatter broke the silence, and the tin baking sheet hit the floor. A dozen burned chocolate chip cookies slid like hockey pucks across the tile and under the table and fridge.
“Audrey?” I said meekly.
“Oh! Liv, hi!” she plastered a smile on her face, but I could see the frustration in her eyes as she wiped a film of sweat from her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed red with heat, blond hair pulled up in a ponytail starting to come undone.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
Audrey’s face fell, and she lifted her hand to blow on her red fingers. “I tried to make you and Noah a snack,” she admitted. “But I dropped the platter.” She spotted Mr. Devereaux standing behind me, who could only look at her in shocked silence, and her eyes went wide. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Did something happen? Why aren’t you in school, Liv?” I looked down at my watch, eyebrows furrowed.
The Guys Next Door Page 3