Ladybird, Ladybird . . .

by Abra Ebner

  “You don’t want to lose your bug. I’ve seen what can happen. I took that class last year.” He was much more outspoken than I would have expected him to be. He placed the cage on the large branch beside me and took a step back. “You’re Sam, right?” His eyes were barely visible under the bill of his cap, and I wondered if it was something he did on purpose, knowing it was not only safe but a source of mystery.

  I nodded. “Samantha,” I murmured into my hand.

  He shrugged. “I like Sam.”

  His rude reply irritated me. My hand finally dropped from my mouth, uncovering my bruised cheek. “You’re the Buckhead boy,” I shot back, meaning it to hurt.

  “Leith,” he corrected.

  “Well, I like Buckhead boy,” I said tartly.

  He shrugged again. “Whatever suits you.” He stared at me for a moment. “You all right?”

  I nodded quickly, recovering my face with my hand and wishing there were a way I could run away from this, but that would compromise manners I was proud to possess.

  Leith reached forward, startling me. I cringed away from the advance. I felt myself slipping from the branch, having misjudged my balance in my drive not to be touched.

  “Whoa, girl. Calm down.” He lurched forward and grabbed my wrist before I fell, pulling me back toward him.

  My heart jumped in that moment, not because he’d touched me, but because I knew I was on fire, the very fire that sent everyone else running.

  He didn’t flinch, not even a little. I hung there in pure shock. No one touched me when I was like this. He coaxed me back to a proper sitting position then pulled my hand away from my face. Without hesitation, his free hand found my chin, and he turned my face to get a good view of my battered cheek. His half smile faded, eyes growing dark. “What happened?”

  I swallowed, feeling vulnerable. His touch felt cool against the inferno of angry, bruised skin. There was no hiding. I was ashamed, and above all, I was broken. I quickly thought of a lie. “A branch smacked me while I was riding,” I answered lamely.

  Leith’s solid expression didn’t change. “Branches don’t leave finger marks.”

  Mortified, I forced my chin out of his grasp. “I swear. It was a branch.”

  He stepped back, reacting to my sour attitude. “This is my place, you know.” His tone had changed. “You’re trespassing.”

  My brows pressed together in anger. That was the best he could say? “Then I’ll leave.” I slid from the branch, grabbed my bag and Ladybird, and brushed past him.

  I didn’t get far before his hand found my belt. “Would you wait a second?”

  I didn’t like the feeling of being stopped. I didn’t like the feeling of his hand near my waist. I spun on my toe, no longer caring how my face looked. “Leave me alone,” I hissed, swatting his hand away. His hand slid out of my belt but hung in the air between us. The fire in me still had not fazed him.

  He only laughed. “Just say ‘please,’ and you can stay,” he offered.

  I was flustered and irritated but intrigued by the sudden way about him. He was unpredictable, determined, and surprisingly confident. His brown eyes glittered. His jaw fixed in a smirk.

  “No,” I said.

  He stepped around me, coming between me and Axon. “You won’t get far if I have your horse,” he teased, backing toward Axon.

  Axon didn’t like anyone but me. This was hardly a threat, but as Leith’s back got closer to the horse, Axon didn’t even flinch.

  Leith clicked his tongue at Axon, reaching a hand toward his muzzle. Leith’s lips moved in a way that distracted me from the anger I felt. There was a sharp peak of mischief where they parted, a coaxing softness that begged to be touched.

  I shook the juxtaposed feelings of desire away. “Don’t touch him,” I snapped, feeling tears threaten. Now was not the time for him to do this to me.

  I saw Leith’s expression change again. Guilt overcame mischief and he stepped away from Axon toward me. He held his hands up in surrender. “Branches don’t make someone this sensitive,” he pressed again.

  I didn’t want to break down. I didn’t want to show my weakness, but I couldn’t stop it. The heat coming from my body dried the damp leaves below my feet, the fibers of my clothing twisting under the unbearable temperature. He knew the truth and it was obvious he hadn’t believed me from the beginning.

  “Come here.” He took another step toward me.

  I took a step away, not for me, but for him. I was afraid of what I would do to him. Never had I felt as dangerous as I did now, but when I took one step back, Leith took two forward. Without a means to avoid it, Leith enveloped me in his arms in an awkward hug.

  I waited for the yelp, the sizzle, anything. Nothing happened.

  “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said gently into my ear. “I just wanted you to stay and tell me the truth.”

  It was a bold comment and a bold move. I felt like a blaze inside his embrace. I should have blistered every bit of him by now. He pulled back but left his hands on my shoulders.

  “You’re a broken girl.” He noted. “Luckily for you, I like broken.”

  I wanted to hate him, but his expression made me feel otherwise.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  I nodded. “How did you . . .?”

  He cut my question short. “How did I . . . what?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to ask him how it was he could touch me. Asking meant delving into a whole conversation I wasn’t yet willing to have—not with someone I barely knew.

  “Will you please stay?” He looked away for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “I just don’t . . .” His gaze returned. “I wouldn’t want you going back to where that mark on your cheek comes from,” he said simply, as anyone would when seeing a girl in such a condition. “I may not know you, and you may truly be trespassing, but sending you away and having that on my conscience I cannot bear.”

  I nodded, backing away from him, still frightened by everything that had just happened. He stepped after me, reaching for the backpack in my hand. He took it from me, placing it back on the large branch over the creek.

  “Sit.” He motioned.

  I sat and he sat beside me, a friendly distance between us. He reached for a fern at the river’s edge.

  “Put the pollen side of this against your cheek. It will help with the swelling.”

  I took the fern from his hand and did as he suggested. Feeling nervous, I tried to fill the silence. “So, Leith,” I started.

  He kicked his boots together. “I thought you were going to call me Buckhead boy.”

  I frowned to hide a smile. “I guess I changed my mind.”

  Leith chuckled. “Okay. I can handle that. So?”

  I shrugged. “So what?”

  “Just ‘so’. You said it first.”

  I looked at him strangely. The short conversation we’d had was the longest he’d ever uttered, in my recollection. That’s when it dawned on me that I’d never even heard his voice before—not in class, not in the halls, never. “This feels weird.”

  He laughed. “I could see how that would be.”

  I played with my hands in my lap. “You know, I never knew your name. I’m embarrassed to admit that, but . . .”

  He nodded. “That’s okay. I prefer people not see me for who I really am.”

  “Who are you?” I pressed. It seemed the natural thing to ask.

  “I’m just a normal kid, but in this town, sometimes rumors are a good thing. I like the way they hide me from them—them meaning just about everyone. I wouldn’t want to be like everyone else.” He chuckled. “They sure see you, though.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, I know. The town freak.”

  He laughed. “Not really what I was going to say.”

  I challenged him. “Then what were you going to say?”

  “I was going to say that, more than anything, I see them staring at you with envy. They may be afraid of you, but the stares don’t show fear—at least n
ot from the boys. No matter how dangerous, a beautiful thing is still a beautiful thing.”

  I felt my heart flutter. He had his hat tilted again so I couldn’t see his eyes. His cheeks had grown pinker but not quite the pink I’d seen on his skin yesterday by the lockers. I wondered what it would take to see that kind of color again.

  “You’re rather honest,” I remarked.

  He laughed nervously. “That’s just the way I was raised. Always tell the truth.”

  “I see.” I could grow to like the truth.

  “Besides, I don’t get what they’re all talking about. As far as I can tell, you feel fine.” He looked up at me. His smirk returned.

  “Is that why you hugged me, to test the theory?” I gushed playfully.

  He shrugged. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  I shook my head. “You’re just like everyone else.”

  He didn’t laugh this time. “I hope that’s not how you see me. I’m not a fan of everybody else.”

  “You made that pretty clear.” I paused, watching him. His gaze once again avoided mine, hiding his own demons. I tried to explain. “I guess I’m not sure just how I see you. It perplexes me. I can’t seem to put the Buckhead boy from school and the Leith in front of me together.”

  He looked up, leaning back against the branch. “Maybe I can sway that in my favor, then. Make you see me in a better light, as a different person. I’m a blank canvas.”

  I let my guard down, forgetting about the sting in my cheek, the fern in my hand, and the resurrected Ladybird in the cage. “You talk a lot.”

  He laughed once. “Can’t say I’ve heard that before.”

  He was witty. I would have never guessed. “You do, though. I’m a little surprised by it. I really, honestly am having a hard time making a connection because of that. I was thinking to myself earlier, I’ve never even heard your voice. You can see, then, why this seems so . . . out of body.”

  His eyes grew frightfully dark. “Not to beat a dead horse, but I hate school. I hate the kids there. I hate them for the rumors about me.” He looked at me. “And the rumors about you. That’s why I don’t talk.”

  “Rumors about me?”

  He ran the palms of his hands across his jeans, not offering a reply.

  “You’re just saying that because I happened to stumble upon your tree fort and you’re trying to be polite to your guest,” I reasoned.

  His eyes below the tattered bill of his hat did not change. “No. I’m not. I care about your troubles and I have for some time. I do have eyes, Sam.”

  I glanced away, not sure how to take that. The fire in me remained.

  His body shifted and I felt his eyes on me, watching, judging. I could tell from the silence that there was something flowing through his thoughts. His hands clenched and I sensed it was something he wanted to tell me but didn’t know how. The discomfort crept back in, and I remembered I was alone with him. I should have been more afraid. I couldn’t help but think of his mother, and I was being a hypocrite for it. In my defense, though, I was truly harmless to him, at least that’s how it seemed. He was a boy—correction, he was a man. He could hurt me just like my father did. I was an idiot to trust someone with such a dark story. They always say that no matter the rumor, at least 50 percent of it is actually true. Which half of his was?

  I shifted my weight on the branch into a position better suited for fight or flight.

  “You look uncomfortable,” he stated plainly.

  I looked him in the eye. He stared back unblinkingly, the way a puppy might stare at you, indicating its aggressive dominance over the pack. “You’re perceptive,” I remarked.

  “See? They are a little blue.”

  I was confused. “What’s blue?”

  He smiled. “Your eyes. They’re bluish brown at the moment, though I swore that earlier, and most of the time, they’re sapphire blue. But they were brown when I startled you. Very intriguing.”

  I shifted my weight again.

  “See? You are uncomfortable. I know that type of body language.” He dropped his head. “I’m used to it, just as I’m sure you’re used to it.”

  I felt guilty for feeling that way toward him. Of all the people in this world who could try to understand his situation, whatever situation that was, I should have been able to.

  “Do you want to know the truth?” He laced his fingers together on his lap.

  “And what truth would that be?” I asked with a shiver, but it was a shiver of anticipation that felt sweet, given the day.

  “My mother ran away with another man,” he confessed. “My father just prefers to keep that a secret and let the rumors run rampant. He doesn’t care. It’s not like he needs friends. He’s got me.” His words were loaded with emotion. It was the same emotion I felt when I thought of my future. Leith was stuck here. I was stuck here.

  “My father loved her, but my mother was restless. Her love for me was not like my father’s love for me. He may be a stubborn, quiet man, but if you knew him, you’d see he’s just like me.” He laughed. “Or I guess I’m just like him.” He shocked me when he grabbed my hand and squeezed hard. “So you see, Sam, in reality, rumors keep us safe.”

  I was frozen, unable to speak, unable to swallow. His grip on my hand grew lax, but he did not let go. I felt my palm begin to sweat, embarrassment creeping in and spoiling what should have been a romantic moment. His mouth relaxed in a soft smile, his features content in a way I was not used to seeing. At school, he was hard as stone, but his soft side was far better than the tough side I’d already found alluring. If I were to let what was happening be real, I had to forget all notions I’d previously had of him.

  Leith slowly slid his hand from mine, fingers trailing across my skin, rough and comforting. I could not discern if his retreat was actually as slow as I imagined or if I was simply relishing it to the point that it seemed far more loaded than a simple gesture.

  Then he touched my cheek, and I realized I wasn’t imagining things. This was real—a touch so fabled in my mind that I could not have imagined it feeling this good. No matter how determined my suitor, no one had ever achieved such a reward as to graze my cheek with his hand and not end up running away, screaming. Muscles flexed down his arm, but it did not reflect the gentle contact against the bruise that had already formed.

  “With each moment that passes, I find myself fighting the urge to hurt whoever did this to you,” he said softly. I took in the way his lips moved, my senses accentuating every movement. I enjoyed the slight tilt of a smile that suggested so much more about the words he was saying.

  I didn’t know what to say in return. Words crumbled from sentences I was attempting to make. “Dead chickens,” I mumbled.

  The tilt of Leith’s lips grew steeper, brow raised. “Dead chickens?”

  I shut my eyes, feeling like an idiot. I shied away from his intoxicating touch, wanting to think clearly for a moment. “I mean . . . the bruise. A few chickens died last night, and my father blamed me because I was supposed to feed them.”

  His hand fell into his lap. “Chickens don’t die from one night of starvation.”

  I shrugged. “No matter. He needed someone to blame. I’d barely gotten off the bus before . . .”

  “Does he do this often?” His tone had grown adamant.

  I shrugged. “More mentally than anything else.” I looked at Leith sternly. “But it’s not his fault. He blames me for what I did to my mother, and I deserve that. I killed the only thing he loved. Pain like that is unbearable.”

  Leith grabbed my hand again, wanting to say something, but I disallowed him. “Promise me you’ll just leave it be. Please. It’s not a big deal. It’s just skin.”

  He sighed long and hard. “It’s not just skin, Sam. It’s your heart.”

  I suddenly wanted to cry. As much as I had always told myself it was only on the surface, Leith was right. Those beatings, both mental and physical, took something from my soul, something I could never get back. Som
eday there would be nothing left. My father would have broken me for good, not just for the moment.

  Leith’s fingers got brave, moving across my skin and tracing the knuckles on my hand. This was more than I could process. I felt uncomfortable again. Before I knew it, I was sliding off the branch and walking toward Axon. He was dozing in a patch of sprouted wheat, full and happy. I took the bridle from the limb beside him. “I should go.”

  I could hear Leith jump down from the branch and walk up behind me. “I won’t let you.” His words were fearful.

  “I can’t just not go home.” I turned, the cold bit in my hand. “That’ll only make things worse for me.”

  He took another step toward me, hands held hopelessly before him. “Staying here with me poses less of a threat than going home, Sam. You know that. I can see it in your eyes.”

  I didn’t like being told what to do. “I just need to go.” There was an irritated pinch in my voice as my hands tensed around the bit.

  His face grew dark once more. “You’re staying,” he insisted.

  I didn’t want to admit he was right. Father would be waiting for me at home, so drunk that if I never came home at all, he probably wouldn’t even know the difference. Staying to thwart off another bruise from my father wasn’t the issue. The problem was staying and dealing with Leith’s advances. In a way, my fire had always protected me. I had confidence in the fact that a boy would never go too far, would never take advantage of me because he couldn’t. For whatever reason, that safety didn’t exist with Leith. What I had a hard time deciding was whether it was Leith I had to fear or myself. A girl’s mind can dream some powerful dreams and, if withheld from her long enough, can grow into a ravaging hunger. I dreamed of love, any kind of love. This was the problem.

  My grip on the bit loosened. Furthermore, Father would never be able to find me here, even if he did decide to come looking. It had happened before. I had a deadbolt on my door for a reason.

  “I’m not going to do anything to you.” He lowered his head. “In any way,” he insisted. I could tell he meant that on all levels my mind could come up with. “I didn’t mean to scare you off or anything. I just wanted to help you.”