Cursed Hadley (Lengthened Version) (Cursed Hadley #1)

by Jessica Sorensen

  Doesn’t make it any easier to fall back asleep, though, and it ends up taking me half the night before my eyelids lower shut again.

  Chapter 5

  “Hadley, wake up.” Someone shakes my shoulder.

  I wish they’d go away. I’m having the best dream about going off to college. I live in a nice one-bedroom apartment that has a microwave.

  “Hadley, wake up.” They shake me again.

  Ugh.

  No, I don’t want to wake up. I want to stay here in my dream …

  But the apartment fades as Bailey appears in front of me.

  “Why did you leave us?” She pouts, and there is a bruise on her cheek.

  “What happened to your face?” I ask worriedly.

  “Dad hit me,” she says with tears falling down her cheeks. “He smacked me across the face because I told him off.”

  “That happened to me once.” My cheek begins to burn. “Recently actually.”

  “That’s because you’re cursed.”

  “Hadley!”

  My eyes pop open, and I bolt upright, my cheek throbbing in pain. It takes a couple of panicked breaths to get my bearings. I’m sitting up in my sleeping bag that’s spread across the floor of my new home, sunlight trickling in through the grimy windows. On one side of me is Payton’s sleeping bag, and on the other, Londyn’s. Bailey is kneeling beside my feet, already dressed in a pair of black jeans and a matching shirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail, and worry written on her face.

  “What time is it?” I ask, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

  “Almost ten o’clock.” She continues to observe me with worry.

  My hands fall to my lap. “Why didn’t my alarm go off?”

  She wavers. “It did, but we turned it off.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, mostly because we were trying to figure out what to do.”

  I comb my fingers through my tangled hair. “With Dad?”

  “No.” Her gaze zeroes in on my cheek. “Your cheek looks really gnarly.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” I throw the sleeping bag off me and rise to my feet. “What happened? And where’s Payton and Londyn?”

  Bailey chews on her bottom lip. “Outside … looking at the damage.”

  Worry instantly rushes through me. “The damage to what?”

  When she doesn’t answer, I immediately dash out of the room. I don’t bother changing out of my plaid pajama shorts and tank top as I dash out the door and into the warm August air of Honeyton.

  We arrived late enough last night that I didn’t get a good look at the neighborhood. Part of me was hoping that perhaps it would look better in the daylight. If anything, it looks worse. The entire street is covered with dilapidated two-story houses, yellowing front yards, and the occasional junkyard. We’ve lived in places equally as bad before. Every move, though, I secretly hope that we’ll somehow end up in a decent place, but it never happens.

  “Great pick, Dad,” I mutter as I jog toward my car where Londyn and Payton are huddled together. “What’re you guys doing?”

  They jump away from each other, Londyn pressing her hand against her chest and Payton gasping.

  “Holy crap, Hadley, are you part ninja or something?” Payton jokes nervously as she works to catch her breath.

  I stop in front of them, my gaze dancing back and forth between them. “Why are you guys acting so twitchy? Bailey said something about something being damaged.”

  Bailey moves up beside me, and the three of them exchange worried looks. It’s unusual for me to be the outsider, but I totally feel like one right now.

  I put my hands on my hips. “All right, you three, whatever you did, fess up.”

  “We didn’t do anything,” Bailey gripes, rubbing her hand across her forehead. “It was just like that when we came out here.”

  “What was like what?” I track her gaze to my car, and my worry skyrockets. “What happened to my car?”

  Londyn frowns, while Payton looks away, and Bailey chews on her fingernail.

  Giving up on them telling me, I circle the car to see if I can find out for myself …

  “What the fuck?” My lips part in shock as I spot one, two, three, four … “How the hell are all my tires flat?”

  “It gets worse.” Payton wraps her arms around herself.

  I look to Londyn for help.

  Sighing, she rounds to the trunk and pops it open. “There’re some, um, car pieces from the engine, I think, in here. I’m not sure which ones since I don’t know shit about cars.”

  Anger simmers under my skin as I march to the back of the car to look inside the trunk. Sure enough, pieces of the carburetor, along with the battery are scattered around inside.

  “Who the fuck did this?” I seethe as I stride around to the front of the car and pop the hood. I’m not even sure why I bother looking. The parts are for sure mine. Just as I’m sure I know who did this.

  Fuck! Why am I so cursed!

  “Car trouble?” Blondie baby douchebag’s mocking tone makes my lips curl.

  I reel around, preparing to have a throw down with him, but instantly fumble over the foul words burning at the tip of my tongue.

  Standing on the other side of the fence beside blondie are two guys, one who looks around blondie’s age with chin-length black and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, and the other is about a year or two older with dark hair, a few facial piercings, and heavily inked arms.

  They’re also dressed head to toe in black with a different assortment of studded bracelets, belts, and chains decorating their outfits, as if they’re auditioning for a Goth boy band. A very pretty Goth boy band.

  Why is it the douchey ones are always pretty?

  A smirk starts to rise on blondie baby douchebag’s face, and I realize I’m gawking.

  Pulling my head out of my ass, I cross my arms and glare at him. “Did you fucking do this to my car?”

  “Someone did something to your car?” He feigns dumb, yet keeps on smirking. “Wow, that really sucks.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t do it. I know you did.”

  “Interesting,” one of the guys says while staring at me in complete fascination. “It’s like she really hates you.”

  Blondie glances at him. “I know, right? It’s beyond odd.”

  What a bunch of cocky jerks. It’s like they’ve never been turned down by a girl before.

  Blondie exchanges a glance with the other two guys, they each nod, and then blondie blasts me with an arrogant smile.

  “If you’re so sure I fucked up your car, then prove it.”

  I want to pick up a rock and throw it at his stupid pretty face, but the last thing my family needs right now is assault charges pressed against me.

  Blondie rests his arms on top of the fence. “You know, my brother over here”—he nods at the older-looking one—“is a mechanic. And maybe, if you ask really, really nicely, he might just fix your car for you.”

  My narrowed gaze snaps to the alleged mechanic of the three, and he smirks.

  “I don’t know, Blaise.” He flashes blondie a conniving grin. “I’m not sure she’s pretty enough to entice me to do much of anything.”

  My hands ball into fists. Screw this. I need to punch something, mess up Goth bands’ pretty boy faces.

  Londyn strides forward, snagging the back of my shirt and towing me back—I didn’t even realize I was stepping forward. Then she positions herself in front of me protectively.

  “Who the hell do you guys think you are?” she spits furiously. “Don’t you ever talk to my sister that way. And stay the hell away from her damn car!”

  As much as I appreciate her protectiveness over me, her bodyguard act is probably going to escalate the situation.

  I step to the side of her and mumble under my breath, “I’m not sure this is the best way to handle the situation.”

  She turns to me, her eyes wild with anger. “We can’t just let them get away with
this. They slashed the tires and broke … well, whatever the hell that was in the trunk. And they practically called you ugly, which you so aren’t.” She raises her voice and glowers at them. “And they know it. They’re just being bullies because you shot dickhead over there down.” She waves her hand in Blaise’s direction.

  As their sister’s warning flicks through my thoughts, I grab Londyn’s arm and draw her behind me.

  Yes, I’m pissed off at the next-door neighbors, and in no way, shape, or form do I plan on letting this go. But considering their retaliation, I need to keep my sisters out of this. Let the asshats focus on me.

  “I need you to do me a favor.” I catch Londyn’s gaze. “Take Payton and Bailey inside so I can handle this.”

  She promptly shakes her head. “There’s no way I’m leaving you out here to deal with those three.” She blasts a glare at the guys.

  Being the dickheads they are, they grin in response, evidently amused with the chaos they’re causing.

  “I’m not going to deal with them.” Lie. I’m totally going to fight back, because I have a feeling they might see it as a weakness if I don’t. And I can’t explain why, but I can sense these guys thrive off weakness. “I just need to get the car put back together so we can go get the utilities turned on, track down the landlord, and go look for Dad.”

  She wiggles her arm free from my grip. “Then, why do we have to go inside?”

  I glance at the guys from the corner of my eye, and my jaw ticks. “Because I can’t concentrate with you out here.”

  She crosses her arms, her brow rising in challenge. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I internally sigh, racking my brain for a better way to get rid of her. “Actually, you know what? Instead of going into the house, can you walk to the gas station a few blocks down and buy a can of tire inflator to fix the tires?”

  Yeah, there’s no way a can of tire inflator is going to fix my completely flat tires, but Londyn is clueless when it comes to cars, so she’ll more than likely buy it. Then, once she’s gone, I can figure out how to handle this situation. Rationally, hopefully, but more than likely doubtful.

  No, messing with my car was their way of declaring neighborly war on my ass and trying to show me who rules around here. They can go fuck themselves if they think I’m going to back down.

  “Fine,” Londyn finally agrees. “But I’m leaving Bailey here.”

  My lips part in a protest, but she walks away.

  “That’s not up for argument.”

  “Yes, Mom,” I call out, shaking my head.

  Sheesh. When did she become so bossy? And toward me? I can’t even recall the last time I was bossed around.

  Once Payton and her start down the road, I turn to Bailey.

  She lifts a brow. “So, what’re you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I give a sidelong glance at the three guys who have pulled fold-up chairs up to the fence and are getting comfortable.

  The oldest of the three kicks his boots up on top of the fence and leans back in the chair with his arms tucked behind his head, his eyes on me, a smirk playing at his lips. The black-haired one doesn’t appear quite as amused, but still entertained enough as he props his foot up on his knee and pops open a can of beer.

  “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch the show,” Blaise calls out, extracting a bowl of … popcorn from behind his back.

  What show? And where on earth did they get the food and drinks? They weren’t holding any of it a moment ago.

  I quickly shake my head. That doesn’t really matter right now.

  “Please continue, sweetheart.” Blaise grins smugly at me before stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “We’re getting bored.”

  “Sweetheart?” The oldest cocks his head to the side, surveying me. “She doesn’t seem like the sweetheart type.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not a baby sort of girl either.” Blaise is all smirks and wickedness, totally getting off on this.

  “Still, you can’t call her sweetheart,” the other replies musingly. “It’s unfitting.”

  Blaise’s haughty gaze bores into me. “Then, what do you suggest we call her?”

  The older one rubs his jawline. “How about princess?”

  Blaise shakes his head. “Nah, that doesn’t seem to fit her either.”

  “What’s her name?” the one who’s barely spoken asks Blaise.

  “I have no idea.” Blaise looks at me expectantly.

  I flip him the middle finger. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Blaise chuckles darkly, but a bit of surprise masks his face. “We really need to start working on your nicknames for me, sweetheart.” He sets the bowl of popcorn down and slants forward, resting his hands on his knees. “I get it. You’re shy and probably a little flustered. That’s completely understandable.” He winks. “We have that effect on people.”

  When I give him a blank stare, his smile enlarges.

  “All right, since I can tell you’re still a little reluctant, I’ll go first.” He presses his hand to his chest. “I’m Blaise. I know my name’s been said a ton of times, but you seem like you might be a little slow to catch on.” My fingernails pierce my palms as he continues without missing a beat. “And this is Jaxon, my brother.” He gestures at the black-haired one with the crazy blue eyes.

  Jaxon does nothing but keep his gaze fixed on me as he takes swig of his beer.

  “He’s a man of few words,” Blaise explains, then motions at the oldest of the three, the one with all the tattoos and piercings. “And this is Alex, my other brother. But since he’s the mechanic and the one you’re going to have to convince to fix your car, you should probably come up with a better name to call him, like maybe sexy beast or master—something along those lines.”

  The corners of Alex’s mouth tug upward. “I thought we already established she probably isn’t enticing enough for me.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll still be fun to watch her try.” Blaise collects the popcorn bowl from off the ground then sits back, gesturing at me to get a move on.

  I’ve grown quiet, stunned into shock. Sure, I’ve had to deal with jerks before, but these three are beyond the realms of normal asshatery. In fact, they’re so asshole-ish, I think they need their very own dickhead term. Like dick-prick-dumb-fuckers-stupid-fucking-asshole-shits!

  I’m about to declare their nickname to the entire neighborhood when Bailey steps up beside me.

  “We need to shut them the hell up,” she growls with her hands balled into fists.

  She’s ready for a fight, and so am I, but not a physical one. No, as tough as I can be, I’m not stupid enough to believe Bailey and I could take these guys on. Plus, I don’t want her fighting.

  I crack my knuckles against the sides of my legs. “Go get my toolbox. It’s in the living room beside my box of clothes.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  Grimacing, she strides off toward the front door of the house. Neither of the guys even glance at her, too fixated on trying to make me squirm under their mocking gazes.

  Lifting my chin, I square my shoulders and march to the back of the trunk. After securing my hair in a messy bun, I pull out a folded-up blanket, spread it out on the ground, and begin taking the pieces of the carburetor out.

  “What’s she doing?” Alex asks, his tone laced with confusion, yet his eyes sparkle with mischief.

  “I’m not sure.” Blaise eyes me over with a crinkle at his brows. “But she’s definitely trying to do something.”

  “I think she’s going to try to put it back together,” Jaxon remarks, then takes another swig of beer.

  While I’m betting he’s about my age and is drinking illegally, I’m not that surprised he’s doing it out in the open. Sadly, most everyone around here more than likely doesn’t care. It’s been the same way in a lot of neighborhoods we’ve lived in.

  Once I get the pieces all set up, Bailey has returned with my tools. She doesn’t question
what I’m doing, only grins as she puts two and two together.

  Kneeling on the blanket, I pull out a set of screwdrivers, wrenches, and pliers. Then I get to work, moving as quickly as I can, but not so fast that I mess up. As the sun starts to rise higher over the hills, sweat begins to bead on my skin. Well, at least I try to blame the sweating on the heat. Really, it may have something to do with having an audience. A very freakin’ annoying audience.

  They watch me the entire time I work, whispering amongst each other and occasionally talking loud enough for me to hear their insults. Doesn’t really matter. In the end, I have the final say after I get the carburetor put back together, attach it to the engine, and then reinstall the battery. Then, just for an added emphasis on how badass I am, I slide into the driver’s seat and twist the key. The engine grumbles to life, just like I knew it would—I never second-guess my work when it comes to cars.

  Wiping the grease off my hands and onto the side of my shorts, I turn the car off, hop out, and Bailey and I fist bump. Then I turn to the guys and cross my arms.

  “Thanks for taking that apart for me. I’ve been meaning to see if I can break my record time of putting it back together.”

  Blaise and Alex trade an indecipherable look, then Blaise faces me, his lips parting.

  I hold up my hand. “Nope, sweetheart, you had your turn, and now it’s mine.” My legs stupidly shake as I step toward them, but I manage to keep an even tone. “I don’t know what sort of people you’re used to dealing with, but I’m not going to let you walk all over me or my sisters, so back the hell off, or you’re going to regret it.”

  Blaise’s nostrils flare as he rises from his chair. I swear to God he’s somehow taller in that moment, but I’m sure that’s just my imagination.

  “Did you just threaten me?” he asks in an eerily calm voice.

  “Blaise, just let it go,” Jaxon starts, setting his beer down.

  “No, let him do it.” Alex snickers. “I want to see how she reacts.”

  “You guys are fucking mental,” Bailey snaps, moving up behind me.

  I throw her a shut-the-hell-up look from over my shoulder before fixing my gaze back on Blaise.