We get in the car. “I got you, Cey. Believe me, I totally get it,” she says, pulling down the visor. The sun peaks over the house as I back out of the driveway. “I’m thinking about talking to Scott tonight, but I need you to do something for me today.”
I wince, unsure of what her need will entail. “What?”
“Can you find out if he’s talking to anyone? You know, has a girlfriend? You two seem cool by the way you’re always chatting it up.”
Scott and I are cool, but not stop and discuss his dating life type of cool. I was shocked by him approaching me yesterday and suggesting that I not get involved with his cousin. “That may give him the wrong idea.”
She grabs my arm and fires back. “Tracey, please, you have to. I need to know!”
I surrender, throwing my hand up. “Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
The student parking lot is more crowded today than usual; from the people lingering around the cars to my needing to park at the far end near the football field.
“What’s going on?” Glen asks, getting out of the car.
“Nothing. That last day of school rebellion,” Matthew says, leaving his motorcycle for us. He shakes out his helmet hair, asking, “You ladies going to Andrew’s tonight?”
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my bag from the trunk.
“You want to ride with me?” Matt grazes my hand as he reaches for my bag and zaps me with the shock from hell!
“Ow!” I yelp, clutching my arm to my chest. “What the hell, Matt? Have you been rubbing your feet on a carpet or something?”
He straightens, rubbing his hand. “No, I have wood floors. That’s all you, and it hurt.”
“Yeah, it did!” I grunt, throwing my bag over my shoulder. The pang from the shock lasts longer than I expect it to, and its bruising is far more intense than it should be on my olive complexion. A brief massage relieves the jolting pain from the shock, and I shake off my discomfort.
Matt closes the trunk and walks ahead with Glen. “I’m riding with Tracey,” Glen says. When I make it to her side, she grabs my wrist. “See you later.”
“Call me if you change your mind,” Matt calls as we hurry into the school.
Glen and I shuffle through the bloated crowd and make it to Human Geography before First Bell rings. We settle in our seats, and I open my textbook. Glen turns in her seat, hugging the back of her chair with her right arm. “You need to catch Scott between third and fourth period. That’s the only window you’ll have before he leaves campus for lunch. He has practice after school so that time’s out of the question. And he makes it to each class three minutes early. Start your conversation off with small talk, specifically something around sports or environmental science, and then drop the bomb.”
“Glen, I don’t know anything about environmental science,” I say in a high-pitched voice, shrugging.
“But you know sports.” She gives me a full plan to follow by the time the bell rings, calling it for first.
Lost in a daze, I’m in and out of second-period, and Glen’s waiting for me outside my class with a questionnaire she wants me to go over with Scott.
“Okay, Gigi, it’s time to stop. He’s not applying for a job.” I look over the paper she hands me. “And there’s no way I’m going to ask him if he’s ticklish at the back of his knee.” I pass the paper back to her.
She grabs it and whines, “But that’s a vital question!”
“It’s really not.” The pain I’ve been feeling in my chest returns. It aches, and I push my hand across the left side and swallow hard. “We’ll meet up at lunch, I’ll update you then.” I sluggishly head to my next class. I settle in my seat and my daydreams run away with me. I reminisce and predict a fantasy that I figure will remain just that. It’s hard to get a night or a day with Nathan out of my head. I try thinking of other things to overpower this one drop in the ocean that’s rippling into more manias than are sensible. Nathan didn’t make it any better by stopping by last night, by placing the slightest touch of his lips to my skin. Lips that I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve dreamed of kissing. He let me give in to my craving for him to touch me and allowed that touch to marinate on my skin. All for him to stab me in the gut.
“What an ass!” I blurt aloud.
“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Miss. Warren?” Mr. Robertson, my third-period French teacher, asks.
“Je suis désolé.” I excuse myself the way he taught us, slouching in my seat, embarrassed about my unruly outburst.
This isn’t me. I don’t get dumbstruck over some boy. I’m focused. I promised myself after Michael that I’d straight-path it the rest of high school and through college. No distractions, no interruptions. That’s how I made it to this point―straight A’s and now I’m valedictorian. I can’t allow myself to get blindsided by this guy.
Dammit, I wish it were easier to fight, to ignore this interest, to get over him.
The bell rings, and I’m relieved it pulls me from my thoughts. As I gather my things, I take a pause, slowed down by a sudden migraine. There’s a pat on my shoulder, but I don’t look to see who it is and can’t hear them over the ringing in my ears. Nathan’s voice echoes over the ringing, though I can’t make out what it’s saying. And then it passes. The ringing’s gone. The migraine passes and my chest even stops hurting. I leave the classroom knowing something is wrong with me. I refuse to visit the doctor. I don’t want to go back through those tests and worry Mom and Dad again.
I enter the busy hallway, trying to convince myself that I’m okay.
I see Glen leaning against my locker and the second she sees me she dives back into her Scott plan. I grumble, but listen as she goes on.
“Tracey?” Scott calls from behind us, startling Glen.
Unsure of what he has up his sleeve today, I shake my head, appreciating he’s preferred these conversations out of Glen’s presence.
Glen shoves me over, and I tumble into the lockers. “Hi, Scott,” she coos, voice higher pitched.
A visible shiver takes hold of Scott, and he rolls his shoulders. His green eyes fixate on Glen until something breaks his concentration. “Hey,” he says dryly, as if he’d prefer to not speak to her. Although, he doesn’t avert his gaze. “Tracey, I need to talk to you.”
“Um. About what?” I ask nervously, sneaking a peek at Glen to see what Scott’s staring at. She looks normal, no boogies or slobber. They awkwardly gaze at each other, and I want to chuckle.
“I’ll discuss that with you when we talk,” Scott says.
Glen elbows me in my side. “Talk to Scott. I’ll meet you at the table. Kay?” She gives me a nod and hurries down the hall.
“Okay,” I mutter, turning my attention back to Scott.
“What’s up with her?” Scott snorts, not breaking his gaze away from her until she’s disappeared around the corner.
“Why do you ask? And so irritated-like. Does she bother you or something?”
He stiffens. “Why do you ask so many questions?”
I shoot back, “What did you want to talk about?”
“Would you stop doing that?” He drops his bag on the floor.
I stuff the last of my books in my locker, asking, “What’s up?” Before I close my locker, I make sure my anxious expression has morphed into one of more seriousness.
Scott throws his hand up and mirrors a lawyer about to give implicating news. “Look, I know Glen has a thing for me, and I know you’ve got a thing for Nathan.”
Pushing my open palms against the air, I say, “Slow down, Mr. Know It All.” I cross my arms and meet his intense gaze. “What would make you say that?”
“Let’s say I have a sixth sense. But understand, Tracey, you and Glen do not want to get involved with us. Just as I told you yesterday not to talk to him, I don’t want Glen either.” Flush creeps up his face as he pins me with his eyes. It’s pretty evident how serious he is about his instruction.
I narrow my eyes, out-staring him. �
�I get it. You’re into Glen too.”
Scott goes poker-faced. “What’d she tell you?”
“What does it matter?”
Scott’s shoulder jerks as if trying to hold back a seizure. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looks around the emptying hall. “Tracey, there’s a lot you don’t know, and I don’t want either of you to get hurt.” He pauses and continues after rubbing his chin. “We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and although we don’t hang out as often as we did when we were kids, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
I chew on my bottom lip, and can’t bite it back when it slips. “Has your cousin asked about me?”
He grumbles. “Don’t, Tracey.”
“Ugh! Scott, please talk to me,” I say, growing more irritated at the fact that although none of this makes sense, I can’t give it up. “I don’t understand, and I need to understand. Nathan won’t tell me anything, and there is something going on. You can trust me. So, tell me what’s up.” Shamefaced, I turn away from him, regretting I sound as pitiful as I look.
He grumbles yet again. “It’s not about trust. And there is nothing to understand.”
I half shrug, throwing my arms out at my sides. “Well walk away, Scott! Not like you’re telling me much anyway.”
“I’m trying to help!” he fires back.
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll walk away.” I throw my bag over my shoulder but double back when I turn around. “For your information, you all are stupid. Glen is amazing, and I’ve never seen her act this way over anyone. She’s practically crazy over you.”
He coughs and buckles over, clutching at his chest. Unable to hold his balance, his free hand shoots out to hold his weight against the locker.
I bend over to better examine him, hearing his strangled breaths. “Scott, are you okay?”
He shakes his head, movement slow and uncontrolled. “M-my chest,” he heaves, dropping to his knees. “I’m. I. I’m having a heart attack.”
“Oh my gosh! Let me get the nurse.” Panicked, I pivot and in a blink of an eye am halted.
On his feet, Scott’s rough palm scrapes my wrist as he yanks me to a stop. A small shock shoots up my arm as he whips me around to face him. “No.”
“Oh, my. . .” I mutter under my breath. How in the hell did he grab me so fast?
“I’ll be okay.” His face reddens, and his eyes flood with tears.
“What do you mean?” I snatch my arm from his loosening grip. “You’re clutching your chest, and talking about a heart attack. How’d you move that fast?”
Straightening his spine, through staggered breaths, he says, “Did you go to the hospital when you were on the floor clutching your chest the other day?”
“How do you know about that?” The words drawl past my lips, quieter than I intended.
“Don’t worry about it.” He straightens, though the discomfort in his eyes remains. “Just stop talking about Glen.” He scrapes his hand down his face, wiping away the present agony. “Look,” he says, threading his fingers through his sun-streaked hair, “this can’t happen. I could explain it to you, but I’m not going to.”
“It may not be today, but you’ll explain it and that mini-episode you had.”
“I don’t do well with threats, Tracey,” he warns, voice deepening with a raspy edge.
Unfazed, I counter, “I don’t do well with secrets involving me being kept from me, Scott. You came to me wanting to talk, and all you can tell me is nothing?” I look him square in his eyes. “That’s a load, and you know it.”
His face hardens, and his earthy green eyes swirl. I gasp, taken off-guard by their movement. They’re as enchanting as his cousin’s are, but anger swims in his, churning a dark-blue with a mystic green outlining. They narrow in on me as his harsh breaths morph into a growl.
I back away, intimidated by the beast that’s lurking below the surface in my friend. I peep, “Scott?”
“Shit!” he bursts, squeezing his eyes shut and slamming his fist against the locker. It dents under the impact. He presses his thumb and index finger against his eye sockets and rubs them, grunting, “Dammit, Tracey.” Flicking his eyes open, their swirl draws my attention, turning back to their earthy green. “I’m sorry about that.” He sighs.
I’ve gained enough distance between us to run, but I wait, asking, “W-what was that?” My shaking knees cause my voice to quiver.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t freak out. It’s me. I got a little upset.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Yeah?” he answers inexpressibly. “Yeah. Yes, I got it. It was my fault, I know. Okay.” His chest rises and falls as he stuffs his phone back in his pocket. “This shit is killing me,” he mutters. “Where are you going?” he asks, seeing me backing away.
I shake my head. “Scott, I don’t know what the hell that was, but I’m out.”
“Exactly. That’s all I wanted. To make sure you’d walk away.”
I halt. “I’m walking away from you, not from trying to figure out what’s going on.” He turns his back to the locker as he listens. “I will find out, it just won’t be from you. I don’t think this excruciating pain I feel―and you feel―is worth it. If I just understood what was going on, I could fight whatever it is.”
“That won’t help, Tracey.”
“Well, what will it do . . . Hurt?” I turn away, leaving him to his secrets. “Because it’s already doing that. At least it’s not just hurting me,” I mumble to myself. There’s solace in knowing whatever this is that’s happening, isn’t just happening to me. Scott’s experiencing those crazy chest pains too, and maybe Nathan is too.
I go over my thoughts, trying to figure out what I will tell Glen after that unsuccessful talk with Scott and trying to put the missing pieces of this puzzle together.
“Tracey!” Scott calls, running in my direction. When he makes it to my side, he nudges my arm. “Sorry about spazzing out on you. That hasn’t happened in a long time.”
“Whatever. Our conversation is over. Nice talk.” I wave and quicken my steps.
Scott catches up to me. His once angered eyes are now hurtful and longing. “It’s just better for you both if you walk away, no looking back, no questions. It’s not me trying to keep us apart because I’m being an asshole. I know what’s good for all of us, and I don’t want anything to happen to either of you. Can you accept knowing that with us—” He takes a thoughtful pause. “—you’re ruined? Without us, you’re whole. That should be enough for you to keep Glen and you away from Nathan and me.”
He draws me silent because that ominous warning should be enough; those words alone, in the hollow tone he relayed them, should close me off. “This is exhausting.” I roll my eyes, adding, “If it didn’t affect me so greatly, I would’ve walked away when Nathan asked. But I can’t deal with the secrets, lies, and mistrust. I’ll walk, and it’s not because you two demanded it, but because I choose to no longer waste my time with either of you.” As I’m turning away, I add, “I’ll tell Glen.”
“Don’t hurt her, Tracey.”
“As long as she leaves you alone, right?” I walk off, wishing my turning away would allow me to put this all behind me, leaving my concerns and blaring questions standing there with Scott. But they follow me as I enter the lunchroom, and the worst of them is that I don’t care what’s wrong with Nathan or whatever his problems may be. I want him. That’s the bad part.
Glen’s at my side before I can finish my thought. “You two were talking for a long time.” She nudges me with her elbow, a small smile pinching dimples in her cheeks. “Tell me what happened. What’d he say? What’d you say?”
Behind her, Scott’s standing in the lunchroom's doorway, a plea in his eyes that I not tell her. Other than the truth, I don’t know what else he wants me to say.
“You’re killing me, Tracey. Spill!” she says with pleading eyes as she grabs the crux of my arm.
I lie, hating that I have to, but I don’t want to hurt her either. “I think he l
ikes you, but he won’t admit it.” Her shoulders slump and brows relax over her disheartened eyes. “But every time I brought up your name, he blushed.” I shrug. “And he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” I add for an advantage.
She beams, bouncing on her toes. “Thank you, Cey! Do you think I should talk to him?”
“I wouldn’t. I think he is a little shy. I’d wait until he approaches you.”
The bell rings, cutting her off. I’m a little relieved it did.
My stomach growls, and I grump, heading back out of the lunchroom. “I’ll meet you in sixth,” I call to Glen as I leave. I hate that I lied, but I can’t hurt her.
concealed
“Following the break, I’d like your essays on how behavioral habits form and can be changed, along with your why psychology two page, double-spaced explanations.” The dismissal bell rings over Mr. Leigh’s instructions. “Don’t forget to include references. The library’s a good place for this,” he shouts over the hustle and eruption of chatter.
This is the third homework assignment I have to finish over break. My teachers have lost the meaning of ‘break.’ They know most of us will visit the schools we’ll be attending in the fall, or completing last-minute college applications . . .like me, and they still flood us with schoolwork.
I cut off Angela when we bump into Glen. Her face is red and her eyes are puffy. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
She drags her thumb across her nose and convincingly says, “Nothing. I walked out on my last class to meet you and we could go to Ms. Kimble’s class together.” Her doleful expression concerns me, but with her fake upbeat voice, she may not want me to pry.
Tests are waiting for us on our desks when we walk into our English class. Everyone sighs as we take our seats. Ms. Kimble provides instructions to turn them over once we finish, and then we can leave for the day.
I finish my exam early and wait in the hall for Glen. “Any last minute teacher meetings you need to wrap up before we blow this popsicle stand?” I ask Glen when she comes out eight minutes later. “I’m thinking about napping before we go out tonight.”
Plight: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 1) Page 5
