Rock Bottom

by Canosa, Jamie

  “Rafe.” Elijah nodded at him in that guy version of a hello that they do, but Rafe’s eyes stayed glued to me.

  “What the hell is she doing here?”

  I felt Elijah bristle as I shrank back behind him.

  “She’s with me. Is that a problem?”

  Rafe’s gaze followed me even as I tried to disappear and then . . . he smiled. “Not at all. Come on in. The party’s just getting started.”

  Elijah had to actually tug me into the room behind him and then deposited me on the couch, quickly claiming the seat beside me. The guys got lost in conversation, telling stories and cracking jokes made funnier by the fact that they really weren’t that funny at all. Liam sparked a bowl with a pretty purple swirl design running through it and passed it off to one of the girls. After taking a hit, she got up and took a seat on the floor near my feet.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. There’s always way too much testosterone at these things. Who the hell cares about fucking basketball, anyway?”

  “I think they’re talking about football.”

  “Same dif. I’m Meg, by the way.”

  “Right, I’ve seen you around school. I’m—”

  “Rylie. Everyone knows who you are.”

  “Really?”

  “Um . . . yeah. You’re like the friggin' queen of the school. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Just . . . hanging out with Elijah.”

  “Are you two like dating?”

  “Um . . . no. We’re . . . hanging out.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

  I shot a nervous glance in Elijah’s direction, afraid he’d overheard her, and caught him just as Rafe passed him the bowl. He passed it back to Liam without taking a hit or even offering me one. I didn’t know whether that was sweet or insulting.

  “What’s up, Eli? You not smoking tonight?”

  “I have to drive Rylie home.”

  “Then if you’re her DD,” Rafe snatched the glass bowl back from Liam and leaned across Elijah to offer it to me. “Wanna party?”

  I leaned back in my seat, startled by his sudden intrusion, and tried to think of a polite way to refuse. It was unnecessary when Elijah’s hand closed around his wrist, pushing it back.

  “She doesn’t want to.”

  “Why don’t we let the girl decide for herself?” Rafe challenged.

  Elijah scowled and turned to me with a question in his eyes he already knew the answer to. I looked past him to Rafe and tried my best to smile, though I’m fairly certain it came off as a grimace. “No, thank you.”

  Rafe held my gaze another moment and leaned back. “Okay. Maybe next time.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Maybe.”

  Meg laughed. “Don’t mind him. Rafe can be a bit . . . intense.” Intense was definitely the word for it. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m glad to have another girl in the room.”

  “What about . . .?” I glanced at the blonde girl Meg had been sitting beside when we arrived and realized she was glaring daggers at me. If looks could kill . . . Jeez, what had I ever done to her?

  “Don’t mind her, either. Julie’s a grade-A bitch. I only tolerate her because she was the only other source of estrogen. But now you’re here, and please don’t be a bitch.”

  I laughed at the plea in her voice. “I’ll try my best.”

  “Goodie.” Meg clapped her hands together like a child who’d just been given an ice cream cone and laid her head on my lap.

  She did her best to strike up a conversation about music, but I was woefully unaware of pretty much anything and everything she listened to. Hours later I had a long list of bands I ‘had’ to check out and the promise of a personalized playlist to come. Despite the fact that we resided on just about opposite ends of the social spectrum, I liked Meg. I could definitely see a friend in her.

  Sometime later, I was nudged awake to find Elijah’s face infinitely closer than wake-up breath should allow. “It’s late. We should get you home.”

  I smiled sleepily at him as he brushed some hair from my face. “What time is it?”

  “After three.”

  “In the morning?” Holy crap!

  Elijah chuckled. “Well that’s better than the afternoon, isn’t it?”

  “Very funny.”

  I sat up to find we were surrounded by several sleeping bodies. Meg was curled up on the floor beside the couch, and Julie and Liam were sharing the other couch, looking rather comfortable together. The other guy—Declan—was sprawled out in an armchair. And Rafe . . . Rafe was standing in the doorway watching me.

  Something about him unnerved me. His sharp gaze seemed to stalk me as we made our way toward the front door. Just when I thought we’d escaped, Rafe’s hand clamped down on the door, prying it open again.

  “It was good seeing you.” He spoke directly to me, his eyes practically daring me to avoid their pull. “Come back any time. I’m always here.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to look away until Elijah stepped in front of me, ushering me down the stairs and out to the car. “So how was it? As awful as you were expecting?”

  “No. It wasn’t awful at all. I actually had fun.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” He actually seemed relieved. “Sorry about Rafe. He can be an ass sometimes, but he’s the only one with his own place, so . . .”

  “It’s okay. He’s fine. I mean . . . he’s a little disconcerting, but—”

  “Disconcerting?”

  “Yeah. What?”

  “Nothing. I’ve just never heard Rafe described that way.” He laughed as we turned onto my block.

  I hadn’t actually done any drugs, but just being in that room for so long, combined with the fact that it was the middle of the night and I was still half asleep was making my head all sorts of fuzzy. How was I going to get back inside without my parents noticing? Oh, the front door. I left the front door open. That could probably work.

  I giggled at myself and Elijah shot me a crooked grin. Elijah . . . Eli. I giggled again.

  “What’s so funny over there?”

  “Your friends call you Eli.”

  His grin blossomed into a breathtaking smile. “So?”

  “I don’t know. It sounds . . . I like it.”

  “You do, do you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I like it better when you use my full name. No one else does.”

  “No one? What about your parents? They gave it to you, didn’t they?”

  “I live with my foster dad, actually, and he calls me Eli. Among other things.” He mumbled that last part, but I caught it because this sudden revelation sobered me up real quick.

  “What happened to your parents?” I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that, but sobering up didn't exactly equate to my brain firing on all cylinders.

  “They died when I was young." Elijah shrugged and shifted his hands around the wheel, never taking his eyes off the road. "No one else wanted me, I guess, so I got tossed into the system.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged again and put the car in park outside my house. “It’s not something that comes up in normal conversation. Hi, I’m Eli. My parents died in a car accident when I was six and now I live with a foster dad who only keeps me around for the check.”

  My chest clenched at the callous way the words passed his lips. With a steadying breath, he seemed to shake it off and grinned at me, but it failed to reach his eyes. “Besides, that’s a bit of a downer, don’t ya think?”

  “Elijah." I leaned over the shifter to touch his face. "I’m—”

  “Don’t. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to look at me like you are right now.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you pity me.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Just don’t, Ry. Okay? Just forget it. I had a good time tonight.”
>
  “Me, too.”

  “I’m glad. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

  I didn’t want to just let him leave. Not after what he’d told me. Not without saying something. But I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that he wouldn’t take the wrong way.

  “Okay. Good night, Elijah.”

  “Sweet dreams, Rylie.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It felt like a whole bag of marbles was ping-ponging around my skull. My eyes burned with exhaustion. I guess staring at a computer screen for six straight hours would do that. Starting at four-thirty in the morning hadn’t helped either, but I couldn’t sleep another minute. I needed a plan. And now, I had one.

  The Science Weekly publication guidelines were printed and taped to my white board alongside my outline of potential article topics. A “D” in chemistry looked bad, but if I could get published—even in an online scientific journal—colleges would have to take a closer look. Not even all professors were published. I didn’t claim to be more knowledgeable than them, but the journal had a special section designated for student publications. Granted they’d all been college students as far as I could tell, but that didn’t stop me.

  Once I accomplished that, I’d shift my efforts to the International Science Talent Search. The top prize was a hundred-thousand-dollar scholarship, but that wasn’t what interested me. Combine that with the national record I was going to break in track . . . no one would be able to overlook me.

  There was a rap on my door and I glanced up to find Dad’s broad form filling the frame.

  “Hey, Dad. I was just—”

  “Coach Stabler called.”

  From the white knuckled grip he had on the phone, I guessed it wasn’t to shoot-the-shit. “What’s up?”

  “He had some unfortunate news.” His grip tightened and I could have sworn I heard the phone crying out for mercy. “He heard about your . . . lapse.” Tendrils of fear like ice cold fingers touched the back of my neck. “He seems to believe that your commitment to breaking the national record has taken your attention away from more important issues.”

  No.

  “He’s not allowing you to compete in any track meets for the next quarter.”

  No.

  “Almost three months without a single scout looking at you.”

  No, no, no, no, no.

  “I hope you’re happy. You’ve ruined everything.”

  I had. I’d ruined everything. The science could possibly be mended, but the athletics . . . By January, the scouts would be finished. Colleges would have made their final decisions. It would be too late. Even if my GPA came back up, the well-rounded angle I was shooting for was over.

  “What a waste.” His parting words cut away a chunk of my heart.

  That’s all I was to him. A waste. Something he’d invested time, money, and effort into. Something that had failed. I was a failure. To my parents. To my coach. To myself. The smooth wood of the desk felt cool against my overheated face as silent tears slid down my cheeks. I didn’t want to be a failure.

  Digging out my phone, I dialed his number, desperate to hear the voice of the one person who wouldn’t believe it.

  “Rylie?” The concern in his voice put me over the edge and I couldn’t contain the sobs any longer. “What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t capture enough air to answer him. All the oxygen had been vacuumed from the room. My head spun. Dots formed before my eyes. It felt like the whole house—the whole world—was crashing down on me.

  “Ry, what’s going on? Are you okay? Rylie,” Elijah snapped and I knew I was worrying him.

  After several deep, choked breaths, I was able to force the words out. “I’m okay.”

  “Bullshit. What happened?”

  “I just . . . I need to get out of here for a while. Can I come over?”

  “To my place?” He sounded stunned by the request and I immediately felt guilty for putting him on the spot.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want—”

  “No. It’s fine. Come on over. You know where I live?”

  “No.”

  He rattled off his address with a nervous laugh. “Ry, you sure you’re okay to drive? I could come get you.”

  “No. I can’t wait. I have to get out now.” I was going to explode if I sat in that room another second.

  “Alright. I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Okay. And . . . thanks.”

  “Anytime, Princess.”

  He called me ‘Princess’. It wasn’t the first time. In the beginning, it rubbed me the wrong way—I was certain he meant it as a tease—but now . . . now it made my cheeks heat and my chest squeeze.

  Not certain exactly how this was going to go, I took a few minutes to pack an overnight bag just in case my parents totally lost it. I was cutting through the living room when my mother caught me. I wasn’t trying to sneak out this time. I just hadn’t planned to mention it unless it was necessary.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Out.” I kept moving toward the door. There was air on the other side of that door, I knew it. I just had to get out and I’d be able to breathe again.

  “You’re grounded.”

  I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t argue. I needed that air. Freedom. I was desperate. My parents hold on me had turned into a strangling grip.

  “When your father hears about—”

  The door slammed shut behind me and I just kept on going.

  I programmed Elijah’s address on the move and followed the mechanical voice past the old, abandoned factories near the river. When it told me to turn left onto what looked like a gravel footpath, I wasn’t sure I should listen, but not knowing where else to go, I followed her instructions. At the end of the path sat a neglected shack—for lack of a better word. If Elijah hadn’t been standing out front, waiting for me, I’d have been convinced it was deserted years ago.

  His eyes widened a fraction when I climbed out of the car and brushed past him, mumbling about that damn grade ruining my life. He caught up on the front porch and opened the door for me.

  “Andy’s sleeping so we can hang out in my room, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Oh,” I slapped a hand over my big mouth and lowered my voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I doubt a wrecking ball could wake that man when he’s passed out.”

  The inside of the house was in as much need of some TLC as the outside. Which was a lot. The floor sagged in spots and wallpaper peeled from the walls. The sink dripped some kind of rusty water and the buzz of the avocado colored fridge could be heard from outside. The furniture looked like something picked up at the Salvation Army . . . a decade or two ago.

  “I know it’s not much to look at,” I could have sworn Elijah actually blushed, “but it’s only for another year. Then, I’m getting the hell out of here and never looking back.”

  He stepped into the tiny kitchen and wrestled open the refrigerator door. “Want a soda?”

  “Sure.”

  He was trying to be polite, but it was obvious my presence there made him anxious. And he was definitely in a rush to get me to his room before . . .

  “Who’s this pretty little thing?”

  Too late.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A man clad in nothing more than a stained pair of tighty-whiteys stepped into the kitchen. Short, wiry gray whiskers sprung like coils from his chin and his beer gut which flopped over the elastic waistband. When he smiled, a sickening collection of chipped yellow and blackish teeth appeared.

  “She’s none of your damn business. Leave her alone.”

  His eyes hardened as they turned on Elijah. “Is that the way you speak to me, boy? You ungrateful, useless little pain in my ass. You better get your shit together or you’ll be out on your ass so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

  I gasped at the cruel words this man was spewing. A mistake I realized the moment his attention swung back to me. “You decide you want a rea
l man,” his gaze crept over me, making my skin crawl, “you know where to find me.”

  He grabbed a beer can from the fridge and collapsed on the couch, popping it open.

  “Come on.” Elijah took my hand, his grip tighter than necessary as he tugged me toward another door further down the hall.

  He knocked the door shut, while I openly gawked at his room. The entire thing was painted black, but not in a creepy-goth sort of way. Black and white photographs hung everywhere, lending it an artistic feel.

  Some were large, poster sized reprints of images I’d never seen before. Nothing famous, nothing tacky—no muscle cars of girls in swimsuits—just ordinary people, doing ordinary things. A man in torn pants and a dirty shirt, smoking on a front porch. A woman in a polka-dot dress reading on a park bench. A group of people leaning against a tall fence, obviously witnessing something with great interest. You couldn’t tell what they were watching from the image and my mind ran through a million possibilities—everything from a rodeo to the construction of a new building—and maybe that was the point. They could be doing anything. The only limit was your own imagination.

  Other images were more modern. Mostly average sized photos pinned to the walls. I even recognized a few of the faces and places from around town. The rusted, run-down playground a few blocks from the elementary school, a few different angles of the lake, and that damn deli on Main were among them. If it didn’t sound too girly, I’d have gone as far as to call it elegant.

  “Sorry about the ass-wipe.”

  “Was that your father?”

  “My foster dad.”

  "Right. Sorry."

  “It’s fine. Come on. Sit with me.” He stretched out on the bed and patted the mattress beside him. “Sorry about the lack of seating arrangements.”

  “I don’t mind.” Truthfully, I might have been thrilled at the lack of additional seating.

  Crawling up beside him, I leaned back against the headboard. For a few long minutes we were both quiet, lost in our thoughts. I was startled from mine when the mattress shifted. Elijah was rooting around underneath it for something. I have no idea why, but what he came back out with stunned me. I couldn’t stop staring at it.