by Kate Harre
He walked clumsily back into the shadows of the trees.
‘Wait!’ Annie called after him. ‘Please don’t go.’
‘I have to,’ he mumbled over his shoulder. ‘Come to my house after school tomorrow if you still want me to teach you self defence.’
‘I’ll be there,’ she promised and watched him disappear from sight.
Stepping back, she leaned against the tree trunk. Relief coursed through her. He was going to let her into his life, albeit reluctantly. Today had been a huge step for him. She couldn’t imagine how much courage it had taken to lift that hood away from his face. He’d honestly expected her to be revolted by the sight of him and yet he’d still done it. She promised herself she would do everything in her power to restore his trust and make him feel normal. He wasn’t the monster he described himself as. But oh the horror he must have endured to get those scars. Annie wanted to cry for the devastation that had been wrecked on his face. It was difficult to make out enough features to piece together what he had looked like prior to the disfigurement, but at least he still had those gorgeous eyes.
Shoving herself away from the tree, Annie headed back down the track towards home. Dusk was falling and she had no desire to be in the forest when it was dark, especially without her overprotective new friend.
Chapter 4
Some time that night persistent ringing jerked Annie out of a very pleasant dream where the whole town was made of chocolate and the water flowed with crème de menthe filling. Without opening her eyes, she patted blindly around her bedside table until she found her phone.
‘Hello,’ she mumbled, already feeling the pull back into oblivion.
‘Hi, Pumpkin,’ came the cheerful voice of her father.
‘Dad?’ Annie cracked open one eye and looked at the screen of her phone. ‘It’s one o’clock in the morning!’
‘Oh. Sorry, honey. I didn’t think.’ He never did, that was the problem. Her father was completely caught up in his own world, which wasn’t exactly noted for its adherence to time. In fact, the hours Jake and his minions kept was enough to make Annie’s hair stand on end. It was one of the reasons she had opted to live with Karen rather than Jake when they’d divorced. But for all that, he loved her madly and Annie absolutely adored him. The guilt in his voice made her feel bad.
‘It’s okay.’ She tugged herself up in her bed until she was half sitting against her pillows and flicked on her bedside lamp. ‘What’s up?’
‘Your Mum called me. She said you’ve had another one of those dreams.’ Usually Jake would be more up to date with what was going on in her life, but he’d been overseas for the past two weeks and the time zones had been so out of sync that even he had recognised there wasn’t a good time to call.
‘Yeah. A girl from my school,’ she said quietly, knowing he would understand how much worse that was for her. ‘I really thought it would be okay here, but I guess there’s nowhere immune to that kind of violence.’
‘Do you want me to come out there – keep you company for a while?’ Jake asked, his concern travelling down the phone connection. She could imagine him sitting in his study, leaning back in his leather chair with his bare feet propped up on his untidy desk, a tumbler of whiskey in one hand, a photo of her in the other. She knew he did that when they talked on the phone. He liked to see her face when they talked, which was why they usually Skyped. So when they were forced to use phones and he was at home, he’d sit in his study with the photo he kept of her on his desk.
‘Thanks, but I’m okay,’ she said with a smile.
‘Alright. But you call me if you change your mind and I’ll be out there pronto. I love you, Pumpkin.’
‘Love you too, Badge.’
*
Chelsea frowned when she slid into the seat next to Annie’s in second period English. ‘You’ve looked whacked all week. What’s going on?’
Annie rubbed her eyes and then blinked rapidly, trying to look more alert. ‘A couple of broken night’s sleep and then Dad rang me in the middle of the night.’
‘Why?’ Chelsea demanded, aghast.
‘It wasn’t that late in L.A. Dad tends to forget about time differences.’
‘Your Dad lives in L.A.? I kinda assumed he was still in New York doing the whole corporate businessman thing.’
Annie shook her head. That was Jake’s idea of hell. ‘No. He’s been in L.A. for years now. He can’t stand the cold, so that’s where his band decided to base themselves.’
‘His band?’ Chelsea’s eyes widened. ‘Hang on a second… I can’t believe I didn’t realise before now! Your last name’s Archer… are you telling me your Dad is the Jake Archer, lead singer of Blizzard?!’
Chelsea’s voice had risen with excitement and Annie quickly looked around her to make sure none of their classmates were listening in. A few were looking curiously in their direction but didn’t seem to have heard exactly what Chelsea said.
Annie gripped Chelsea’s arm. ‘Shhhh. I don’t want everyone to know, okay.’
Chelsea was practically hyperventilating but seemed to understand and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I can’t believe your Dad is famous. And super hot!’
‘Ew. Chelsea!’ Annie’s face screwed up. She was used to the spectacle of girls clamouring to get her father’s attention, hanging off him whenever they got the chance, but that didn’t mean she liked it. He was her Dad – it was gross to think of him as some kind of sex symbol.
‘Sorry. Totally inappropriate. Won’t happen again.’ She took a few deep breaths. ‘As long as you promise me I can meet him when you next see him.’
‘Sure,’ Annie conceded.
‘I guess that explains how you and your Mum can afford to live in such a great house,’ Chelsea mused. ‘I mean your Mum’s paintings are cool and all, but they’d hardly make you guys rich.’
Annie bit back an amused grin and decided she wouldn’t repeat that part of the conversation to her mother. ‘Actually Mum’s paintings do make us rich. Her artwork is in demand by some of the top galleries both here and in Europe.’
‘Really?’ Chelsea slumped back in her seat. ‘Maybe I should consider a career as an artist.’
This time Annie couldn’t hold back her grin. She gestured at the doodles scrawled on the front of Chelsea’s notebook. ‘No offense, but you do not have a future career as an artist.’
Chelsea grinned good-naturedly. ‘Yeah, I guess some talent would be necessary.’ She glanced up at their teacher entering the room. ‘Can we meet at lunch to finish off the tribute piece?’
Annie nodded and opened her notebook, ready to start taking notes. As a reading buff, English was her favourite subject.
By lunchtime, Annie had the bounce back in her step, aided by several strong coffees. Grabbing a sandwich from the cafeteria, she headed for the Ridge High News office. Chelsea was already there and launched straight into excited chatter.
‘I know we decided to be sensitive and not approach Danielle’s family, but one of her brothers actually came to me,’ she said in satisfaction. ‘He thinks the tribute is a great idea and wanted to make a comment on behalf of his family.’
‘That’s great,’ Annie enthused. A comment from the family would make the article more authentic and while Annie did have an ulterior motive for their “research”, she genuinely wanted to give Danielle the best tribute possible.
‘I know, right.’ Chelsea glanced sideways at Annie. ‘He’s a Junior and really quite cute.’
Annie groaned. She loved Chelsea, but sometimes her friend didn’t know where to draw the line. ‘He’s just lost his sister. At least give him a few weeks to grieve before you make your move! And what happened to giving dating a break?’
Chelsea tossed an eraser at Annie. ‘That was last week! At least I’m willing to get out there and have a go. Unlike some people,’ she said pointedly.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
With a mischievous roll of her eyes, Chelsea took a large bite out
of her apple and then tried to talk around the mouthful. ‘There are stacks of guys who look at you and if you’d show a little interest you’d have a boyfriend just like that.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘You need to learn the art of the lingering look… which I’m quite happy to teach you, by the way.’
Annie flushed and looked away. ‘I’ve only been here a few months. Give me a chance to get to know people before I decide who I might like to start a relationship with.’
‘Girl, I wasn’t talking about a relationship. I was talking about a date! I bet heaps of guys have asked you on a date already.’
‘Actually there’s only been one!’ Annie glared at her friend. ‘And it wasn’t really serious.’
Chelsea sat up straight, her eyes alive with interest. ‘Who?’
‘Brad. And I’m so not going there.’
‘Well he is gorgeous, but yeah, I can see why he wouldn’t appeal to you.’ Chelsea agreed thoughtfully. ‘He’s a player. Definitely more my kind of guy.’
‘Well, you’re welcome to him,’ Annie said with a smile. ‘Now, can we get back to the tribute? I promised Adrian we’d have it done by today.’
*
Alex stood at the window of his bedroom, his tall frame rigid with tension. From the second storey he had a clear view over the fence to the street beyond, but the house was set back enough from the road it was unlikely anybody would be able to see him standing there. Or if they could, they wouldn’t be able to make out his features. When he’d first been disfigured his father had wanted to replace all the windows with one-way glass, so no one could see in. But back then Alex had had no interest in looking out at the world he could no longer be a part of, so his father had left the windows as is and instead taken himself away, so he wouldn’t have to look at the scarred face of his once handsome son.
She wasn’t going to come. She’d been too kind to reveal her revulsion when he stood in front of her. But it would be easy to simply not show up. He’d done it enough times himself when he’d been part of the popular crowd – told people he’d be at some event or another and then never shown. Not that he’d done it for politeness’ sake; he simply hadn’t cared whether people were relying on his attendance or not. He did what he wanted, period. Annie’s motives would be less self-serving, but she still wouldn’t come and that was perfectly understandable.
Besides, he didn’t want her to come anyway. He didn’t want to be her charity case; the poor disfigured boy she felt sorry for. Nor did he want to be her friend. He didn’t know how to do friendship – at least not the kind she’d be used to. Friendship in his former circle had been superficial with little or no genuine liking. It had been all about being seen with the “right” people, not about choosing people he might have actually had a connection with. But then he hadn’t cared about that back then. So no, he didn’t want her in his pathetic little life.
Yet, here he still stood, keeping silent watch. He couldn’t understand why he was torturing himself like this. He’d learnt in recent months hope was futile. It was better to accept the worst before it even happened and then he couldn’t possibly be disappointed. People let each other down all the time; that was a fact of life. He’d lost count of all the people he’d let down.
A figure rounded the corner and walked down the street. As she got closer, he recognised the mahogany sheen of Annie’s long hair. She had gorgeous hair, he thought absently. Especially when it was loose like it was now. She stopped at the entrance to the grounds and fiddled with the stiff catch on the side gate, before stepping through and walking down the driveway to the house.
She was coming. He stiffened and instinctively drew the hood up over his head. Then he sighed and let it drop back. What was the point? She’d already seen the horror that was his face. There was little use in trying to hide it now.
The doorbell rang and for a moment he thought about not answering it. Eventually she’d go away and with her… the hope of a friend. Huh! How quickly his thoughts had changed when she’d actually shown up. He was so pathetic. He reined his hopes in slightly. A friend wasn’t likely; but maybe some companionship was a possibility.
In truth, he was so lonely he’d settle for whatever crumb of attention she was willing to give him, but he was also terrified of opening himself up. How could anyone look past the atrocity to see inside him – especially when the inside wasn’t much to be proud of either? His own father hadn’t been able to do it, so how could a hotshot city girl with the world at her feet?
The doorbell rang again and he found himself bounding down the stairs, anxious she shouldn’t leave. Well, he guessed that answered that. His instincts, against his better judgment, wanted to take the chance.
*
Annie was turning away from the door when it was abruptly yanked open. Alex stood in the doorframe, fairly bristling with uncertainty and discomfort. His head was fully exposed, every imperfection there for her to see and she smiled, because it felt like a victory. He wasn’t hiding from her anymore – at least not physically. Stepping back, he waved her through the door.
‘I was beginning to think you weren’t going to answer.’
‘I thought about it,’ he acknowledged gruffly. ‘I didn’t expect you to come and I have to admit, most of me didn’t want you to.’
‘Ouch!’ His honesty hurt, but she’d rather have it than not.
‘I’m sorry. That was rude.’ He slammed the door shut and ran his hand agitatedly through his cropped hair, his long fingers skimming lightly over the angry scars. They were so vividly red they looked like they hurt, but clearly they didn’t anymore. ‘For months I’ve been pretty much isolated from the rest of the world. I… I don’t know what to do.’
Annie impulsively reached to touch his arm, but he immediately flinched away from her touch. She swallowed and drew her hand back. She wasn’t going to let it get to her. He was damaged and she needed to take things at his pace, let him get to know her and become comfortable with her presence. She’d already had that little pep talk with herself on the walk over and she wasn’t going to forget it.
‘I don’t want you to pretend with me, Alex. I’m a New Yorker – we’re used to rude.’ She smiled at his look of surprise. She shifted her gaze away from him, giving him time to adjust, and surveyed the foyer they were standing in, taking in the double height ceiling with its spectacular chandelier and wide sweeping staircase. She could imagine Scarlett O’Hara drifting down that staircase. ‘So you’re all alone here then?’
He strode towards the back of the foyer, towards another set of concealed stairs, which descended to the basement. Annie followed, intrigued to see what was below.
‘Virtually. I have a live-in housekeeper, Maria, but she’s away for a few days.’ He started down the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder to her. ‘We’re all alone. Are you still sure you want to come into the beast’s lair?’
It was said a little too casually. He was still bracing himself for her to turn around and leave. ‘I’m sure… unless you really don’t want me here?’ She stopped, one step down. Maybe that was it. Maybe this was a bit much for him. In the forest he could disappear at any moment, step back into the shadows and go. But here, in his house, he was trapped and exposed. ‘Alex, if you want me to go, just say. I won’t be offended.’
He was a couple of steps further down and when he stopped and turned, their eyes were level. He glanced away and then back at her. ‘I want you here.’
‘Good.’ She smiled happily.
His eyes flared and quickly shuttered, before he spun and jogged to the bottom of the steps, where he waited for her to catch up.
‘Where are your parents?’ she asked. It was a leading question since she already knew his father had taken off, but Chelsea hadn’t mentioned anything about his mother.
His face closed and she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he surprised her, and probably himself, with the truth. ‘Mum died when I was young. Dad’s based in New York. He’s a Wall Street trader, so it makes
sense. But that’s not why he’s really there. He can’t stand to see me like this.’ He gestured at his face. ‘He tried – for a few days – but he can’t look at my face and it became awkward for both of us. He checks in every now and then, but…’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. Again she wanted to reach out and offer him comfort, but she checked the urge. No wonder he expected her to run.
Clearing his throat, he walked forward so she could take the last few steps down into the basement. ‘This is my gym.’
Annie looked around her in amazement. She was standing in one huge room, the size of the footprint of the house. There was gym equipment she recognised, from a treadmill to several weights machines. But there was also a whole host of other things – suspension straps hanging from the ceiling, concrete balls with handles, a massive tractor tyre, climbing walls, hanging ropes, boxing bags of different sizes and a large section with padded walls and floor. She swallowed. What had she got herself into?
‘What do you think?’ Alex asked, examining her wide-eyed expression doubtfully.
‘I think I might have changed my mind. This looks like my idea of a torture chamber,’ she said ruefully.
He laughed, the sound reverberating around the room and it was beautiful to hear. The look of surprise on his face had her wondering how long it had been since he’d had the urge to laugh.
‘After the disfigurement I had a lot of time on my hands. Before, I didn’t have much interest in school, but to fill the time I have become a devoted student by correspondence. It’s funny how enthralling knowledge is when you have nothing better to do,’ he explained wryly. ‘And I also developed a passion for fitness. I used to be on the basketball team, so it wasn’t much of a stretch.’
Annie waved her hand at the room. ‘This looks like a lot more than simple fitness.’
