Copyright © 2019 by A.M. Johnson
Except the original material written by the author, all songs, and song titles contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders. The author concedes to the trademarked status and trademark owners of the products mentioned in this fiction novel and recognizes that they have been used without permission. The use and publication of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or events is entirely coincidental.
Editing and Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting
Proofreading by Kathleen Payne Proofing
Cover Design is Amanda Bockman
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue
A Letter to the Reader
Acknowledgements
Playlist
About the Author
Other Books by A.M. Johnson
To You…
Yes, You,
You behind that mask.
Slip it off.
Breathe.
Find your gravity,
And believe,
That you deserve the love you give.
For Cornelia
For always calling me by my name, for showing me I am worthy of love, and for every mile that keeps us apart, is a beat of my heart that knows how dear a friend you truly are.
You, my love, belong to ALL the colors.
“We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.”
John Hughes
The Breakfast Club
Kai
It was hazy, the stale scent of gasoline mingled in the frigid air, evaporating from the frozen concrete floor of the garage. The moonlight stuttered across the car door handle as he attempted to open it. Once, twice, and then again. His brows dipping into a furious line as he swore under his breath. Vodka-tainted puffs of fog spilled from his lips as he sighed. The door opened, and the dome light illuminated the front seat. Warm and welcomed, he fell into the leather.
“Let’s go,” he growled to himself, shoving the car key into the ignition with haphazard fingers.
The engine revved as he slammed the door shut. Kai closed his eyes with a wry smile. The world spun, his heavy body sinking into the driver-side seat, relief flooded his veins.
Silence.
“Do you like it here?” she asked.
“Not really, no.” Kai wouldn’t smile, he wouldn’t give in.
“I like it here. It’s quiet. I think better when it’s quiet.” She pushed the long strands of her hair behind her ear with shaking fingers.
He couldn’t remember her ever being this beautiful. She was always twisted limbs and sad eyes.
“You always say that.” His lips lifted into the smile he’d tried so hard to hide. “I like the quiet, too.”
“Some days I wish I didn’t have to speak at all. I wish I could sit on the back porch and let the sun speak for me.”
“What would it say?” he asked, inching closer, letting his pinky dust hers.
“It’s a secret.” She turned her head, and the thin hospital pillow crinkled as she faced him.
“You told me there were no such things as secrets.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She laughed and placed her hand over his. The heat of it made his smile grow wide.
“You did.”
“The sun would tell the world I missed it, it would remind the grass how much I miss its itchy blades, it would tell the wind to break up the quiet so I could remember the day was not over yet.”
“It’s not over, Mom.” Kai’s eyes burned and his nostrils flared. “When you get home, I’ll have Dad set up your rocker on the back porch, okay?”
She exhaled a long breath, and his shoulders relaxed as she beamed at him.
“You make me so proud… every day… so proud.”
The grating hum of his old, beat-up Impala nagged, keeping him rooted into the present. Rooted in the day that seemed to never end. All he wanted was a minute to think. Quiet. Sleep. Glorious and uninterrupted. No one to remind him—every second of every day—that he’d failed, or how much they’d needed him. No one to remind him how selfish he truly was, or how, no matter what, he’d always be the poor kid from Rockport with a mom who was dying and a father who never gave a fuck.
Quiet. Sleep.
No one to tell him the garage was a dangerous place to leave a car idling. No one to remind him to breathe, to wake up, to…
Indigo
The Beckett House cafeteria buzzed with students trying to balance trays stacked with food and books, and cups of coffee, smudges of color whipping across the room, around the tables. The smell of bacon and eggs and maple syrup lingered in the wide-open room. Winter break was over, the second week of spring semester had commenced, but a light shower of snow sprinkled white flakes just outside the large floor-to-ceiling windows, dusting the fir trees outside in a glow, almost light blue in the gray dawn light, reminding us January wasn’t quite done yet.
The table I’d sat at last semester with my brother and his friends had a few open seats this morning, but I knew the one across from Royal was reserved for me. I set my tray with cereal and milk onto the table, but before I could sit down, my brother flashed me his winning smile. “Hey, Pink, can you grab me a side of salsa?”
He still needed me. Even if it was for small things like sides of salsa, or what songs he should add to his study playlist. Royal needed me and that was all that mattered. I nodded and gave him a mirrored smile, one he’d recognize as well as his own. We were twins, in heart, body, and mind. Well, except I was a girl and he was a guy… who liked guys… or maybe just one guy, but I digress. We were born on the same day, and even though I’d been born first, he was my big brother in all the ways a girl could need. A protector. And I protected him.
“The green kind, not the red,” Camden, my brot
her’s boyfriend, suggested before I got too far away.
“I’m well aware of what type of salsa my brother requires, thank you very much.” I raised my eyebrow, trying to keep the grin off my face but failing, and Camden chuckled.
“Would you mind grabbing me some, too, Pink?” Corbin, one of my brother’s teammates, spoke around a large bite of his breakfast burrito.
I tried not to be too pleased he’d started using my nickname, Pink, regularly after spring semester had started. I can’t say that Royal loved it, though, when Corbin called him Blue. It was our thing. A way to annoy our parents and their obsession with all things blue. Indigo and Royal had become Pink and Blue and the rest was history. Corbin feeling friendly enough to call me Pink felt better than it should have.
There wasn’t much to say about a girl like me. A girl with light blonde hair and pale, sea blue eyes. I was just another girl who’d been discarded in the halls of her high school, the halls of her mind. A girl with thoughts no one would ever understand. A girl who tasted the sunset and listened to the voices living inside her paint brush, inside her ears. I wasn’t afraid of the murmurings. They spilled across the canvas in loud shouts and muted whispers. They made up my soul in coppers and caramels and matched my deep blue heart. Each beat another picture. Each swath of color another facet of who I’d become.
My adolescent years hadn’t been easy, and I had the social bruises to prove it. Not once had I gone on a date. No prom for me, no smiles from that hot guy in my algebra class. My father had once said that loneliness was just another chapter, another cog in the wheel of life’s failures and successes. I’d listened and owned his words. There wasn’t much to do about who I was anyway. I was the shy bit of yellow in a duet of gold. My brother Royal flourished inside the heat of others. Where I’d won a scholarship to St. Peter’s College for art, he’d won a scholarship for swimming. He was a go-getter. He’d fought for what he wanted in everything even if it meant he’d lose it all. This past fall, our first semester, he’d met Camden and had fallen in love, quickly and wholeheartedly. What the world thought had never been important to him, or to me, but I hadn’t the inclination to chase after things like he always did. I’d rather sit inside my family’s art studio, or the one here on campus, and create a better life. A life that made me smile regardless of all the immature chatter that floated around me.
There is nothing special out there for you.
I exhaled, shaking off the intrusive thought. I knew better than to listen. Those spiteful voices inside my head, I’d inherited them from my father. We suffered together. But, because of him, my family, I never had to suffer alone in the dark words, the evil fingers that tried to pull me into the depths, the dank realization of my own mind. My father had taught me to ignore them, taught me how to paint through the depression. Because of him, my family… I lived and breathed and felt normal on most days.
He gave birth to us.
I shut my eyes, willing the voices into silence, and tuned in to the chaotic hum of the dining hall as it rose to the top of the wood-and-metal-beamed ceiling. When I opened my eyes again, the words in my head had evaporated. I moved quickly to the breakfast bar and grabbed a few cups of green salsa before I made my way back to the table. The familiar faces of St. Peter’s ignored me as I walked by. I was a ghost in overalls, with paint-stained Converse and a smile, wasted, for the no one who would notice.
“Here you go,” I said as I placed the cups onto the table and pulled out my chair.
Corbin was deep in conversation with Dev, another one of my brother’s teammates, and hadn’t noticed I’d returned. This table was a reflection of my brother’s gifts. Gifts I wished I could harness.
You’ll always be alone.
“What are they saying?” Royal’s asked, his voice rough with concern. I kept my eyes on the table, hyperaware of everyone around us. My brother, his boyfriend Camden, and my suitemate Daphne were the only ones at St. Peter’s who knew about my illness, and I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. “Pink?” he whispered, leaning closer.
“Same as usual, I’m feeling off today, Blue, no big deal.”
“Have you seen Dr. Sand?” he asked, and I finally met his worried, azure eyes. My eyes.
“I have an appointment today.”
“Try not to miss it, okay,” he said, his tone soft and careful.
“I won’t.”
I’d become well acquainted with the Behavioral Health Center on campus. Dr. Sand managed my illness, schizoaffective disorder, or depression with psychotic features. I never liked the latter, psychotic features, it always sounded defeatist and scary. My father and I heard things, saw things that the world couldn’t, and yes, at first, I’d hated it. Originally, I’d been terrified. I’d wake up in cold sweats, having nightmares that I’d never truly wake up from. Dad had explained to me what they were, the voices, and once I was old enough, I understood. Those persuasive ramblings in my head, they were all just mind games. Dad told me I had to fight them, told me I couldn’t let them win. So I fought. Therapy, meds, and the love of my family. Art and color. It was a prescription. A reality. My life.
It was difficult, being away from home, from my dad, from my mom. Royal hovered, making sure to sit with me for every meal when he could, nag me about my appointments, and he always asked about the voices, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop them. But he had a boyfriend now, friends, his swim team—a life. A life I would never really fit into, and I wondered sometimes if he viewed me as one of his failures. What would it have been like to have a sister to double date with, to socialize with? What would it have been like for him to not have to always be the big brother? When we both decided to move to Oregon to go to college, I’d promised myself I’d give him the space he needed to flourish, and he had. Royal had bloomed, the brightest gold, and it was a color I’d struggled to create on my own canvas since our arrival.
Our family suffered as one, loved as one, and celebrated as one. Royal was my second half, Mom and Dad were my center, and as I watched my brother take his boyfriend’s hand in his, I whispered to myself.
I’m not alone.
I wasn’t sure if Blue heard me, or if his smile was just his usual brotherly affection, but I smiled back before bringing a spoonful of cereal to my lips. In class, if I whispered to myself, or if I got caught gazing into the great wide nothing, I wouldn’t care. I’d always been taught that I was special… that I saw the world… that I belonged to color, and that was pretty freaking awesome as far as I was concerned. Raised by artist parents and a brother who treated me like I was his queen. I was one of the lucky ones.
“How’s he doing?” I asked as I flopped down on my brother’s bed, the cheap dorm room mattress groaned under my weight.
Camden didn’t protest as I laid my head on his chest. “Good.” He cleared his throat. A tell I noticed he had whenever he was nervous or uncomfortable about something. It made me smile.
“Good,” I repeated and Camden relaxed, his breathing less rigid.
The color of his tone, orange and warm, as he said, “We’re… happy. Being out, being able to love him in front of everyone, I was nervous, especially after what happened last semester, but I think it’s going to be okay.”
He rested his hand on my back, and I snuggled in a little closer, the familiar scent of his soap somehow made me think of home. Some people might find it odd I was this open, this close with my brother’s boyfriend, but it had become our way. Camden had spent the entirety of Christmas break with our family, his own family shunning him after he openly started dating my brother. Camden was one of us, ours in the way the color blue belonged to the sky. Not truly blue, but a reflection of color through a spectrum of light. His spectrum illuminated under Royal’s light and we all basked in it. He was ours. He was family.
“I think so. I’ve always thought so.”
He chuckled and it rumbled around in his chest. “I wish I had your optimism.”
“There’s stil
l time. I will teach you my ways.” I smiled as I rolled over onto the pillow. “When is practice over again? I’m starving.”
Camden lifted his arm and glanced at his watch, worry creasing his brow. “He should be here by now.”
“He said he would be late, that’s why he had us meet him here instead of Beckett. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s fine.”
Camden turned and stared at me. His gray eyes shadowed by the mop of dark chocolate hair hovering over his brows. “Will I always be nervous when he’s late coming home from practice now?”
I wanted to lie, to tell him the vision of my brother—his boyfriend—black and blue, would fade over time. That the fight last semester would be the last obstacle they would ever face, but the truth wasn’t something I could ever hide, from myself or from the ones I loved. “Probably for a while. I mean, it’s all still fresh, Camden. What happened last semester was scary. And I wish it wasn’t true, but there are people in this world filled with hate. But Royal’s team seems to accept him?” He nodded, and I asked the question I’d been too afraid to ask my brother for the past month. “How’s Kai?”
Kai Carter was the hero, the mystery, the only boy to ever make me look twice. He was a brazen brush of violet against the muted gray canvas of St. Peter’s.
Camden shrugged, his gaze fixing on the wall. “He’s quiet. We haven’t spoken much since the semester started. I feel like I don’t have a roommate anymore. He’s never around.”
“Royal told me Kai finally texted him.”
“Yeah.” Camden’s smile was lined with sadness. “No explanation for the freeze-out over winter break, though. Just a quick, no worries, see you in the pool, very vague.”
“He’s good at vague,” I mumbled to myself.
“How do you mean?” Camden stared at me, straightforward, with stark-white honesty.
“Have you ever noticed he ignores me?”
“He does?”
“I think so.” I picked at the dried spot of yellow paint on my hoodie, avoiding Camden’s gaze. “You know, come to think of it, not since last semester, when we first met in the cafeteria, has he ever directly spoken a word to me. What he did for you and Royal, defending you guys like he did, you’d think he’d want to know me. I’m his best friend’s sister.” I bumped my shoulder into his and forced a smile. “I mean, you let me snuggle with you, and you hate people.”
Seven Shades of You Page 1
