Credence

by Penelope Douglas

  Noah leans in, whispering, “But your wrists are.”

  My heart skips, and I dart my eyes up to Kaleb as he stares down at me.

  What?

  But Noah just laughs, both of them leaving me there as they head outside.

  And I don’t realize I’m staring back down at the belt, spacing off until Jake honks again, making me jump.

  “Give it to me!” I shout as Noah holds my phone out of my reach. “Come on.”

  He plants his hand on my forehead and pushes me back as we sit at the table and he inspects the photo. “Holy shit,” he says loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “Why do you hide this?”

  I launch up and snatch the phone out of his hand, plopping back down in my seat. “Because it’s a dumb picture.”

  “Then why do you keep it on your phone?”

  “Because,” I tell him. “It’s the only thing I’ve done that I’m proud of.”

  I go to exit out of the link to the one article about me ever written, along with the photo shoot the magazine insisted be done to accompany it, but Jake plucks my cell out of my hands instead, taking his turn to look at the pic.

  I glare, opening my big mouth to protest, but I decide against it, casting a worried glance around at the other families trying to have a peaceful meal in the steak house.

  It was my fault, showing it to Noah in the first place. Last spring, Vanity Fair did an exposé on the children of the stars and featured me in their “collection.” Unfortunately, a photo shoot came with the territory, one shot in particular of me in my French braids, a sports bra, and some lacrosse gear. I looked sweaty and dirty but kinda sexy, and even though the entire thing was a lie concocted by my parents’ publicists to make me look and sound incredible, I really liked the experience. Even though I’d never played lacrosse in my life.

  It was the one time I felt large.

  Yes, the article was bullshit about how involved I was in school. Nothing was true in regard to my activism and hobbies, and I only got the feature because of my parents. I hated the idea when they made me do it.

  The photo shoot, though… I felt pretty. Even if I felt stupid after it was over.

  “It’s a great picture. We’ll put it up on the website,” Noah tells his father and then lifts his arms, knife and fork in hand as he recites the words on an imaginary header. “The New Addition to Van der Berg Extreme.”

  I roll my eyes, turning my attention to Jake. “Give it to me.”

  He passes it to Kaleb who takes it and barely glances at it before handing it to Noah.

  “Now,” I grit through my teeth, trying to keep our banter down. I only meant to brag about how I’ve worn less in public than I am tonight when Jake got snippy about my backless dress again at dinner. I didn’t want them gawking at me in my bra, though. In public.

  Glasses and silverware clank in the rustic old restaurant, and the smell of barbecue sauce and French fries fills the air, making my nose sting from time to time.

  The steak was overcooked, the Coke is watered down, and the floor is so greasy, I can spell my name on it with the heel of my shoe.

  But I wouldn’t have anything different for my eighteenth birthday. I’ve had more fun already tonight than I did in all my past birthdays combined.

  Noah hands the phone back to me, and I take it, turning it off and sticking it under my thigh, so they can’t get it again.

  “So, what do you say?” he asks. “Wanna look sexy like that on our website?”

  “Shut up.”

  I tuck my chair back in and take a sip of my soda.

  “It’s a really good idea,” Noah argues, turning to his father. “That’s what we’re missing in our marketing. Something pretty.”

  “Noah, Jesus…” Jake shifts uncomfortably in his chair and lifts his bottle to his lips.

  “No, seriously,” he continues. “Look at all the other sites. All the shows and expos we go to. What do they all have in common? Hot girls. We could get a photographer up at the house and do a photo shoot of her on the bikes. It’ll be great.”

  “It’ll be snowing by morning,” Jake says. “No photographers are getting up the mountain.” He shoots his eyes to me. “And no one’s getting down.”

  I pause, a shiver almost running through me as I hold my uncle’s eyes. I’m not sure if I see a warning or a challenge there in regard to the months ahead, but I raise my glass in a cheers, ready for whatever.

  Jake grins, raising his beer and Noah follows, all of us clanking our glass together. Kaleb eats his meal.

  “Besides,” Jake adds, setting his beer down, “we may never see her again after the spring anyway. Not sure we want to add her to the letterhead quite yet.”

  I shake my head, knowing he wouldn’t mind if I stayed forever and would love the assurance right now that I will.

  I love being wanted.

  But college looms. I’ll need to make decisions soon.

  Noah looks at me. “You won’t leave us, will you?”

  I laugh, unsure how to answer that.

  Instead, I just tip my chin at my uncle. “May I have a non-virgin beer for my birthday?”

  He knows full well I’m taking advantage of the allowance in this state that anyone under twenty-one can drink on private property, as long as they’re under parental supervision.

  So let’s go home to private property, so I can do that.

  But Jake has different plans.

  “Let’s go into the bar,” he says.

  My eyes widen. And I’m out of my chair before any of them.

  Noah, Kaleb, and I head out of the restaurant while Jake pays the bill, and Noah takes my hand as we trail down a long hallway, entering the noise-ridden saloon that’s connected to the restaurant. Country music plays on the juke-box, and I crunch peanut shells under my shoes as we walk under the dim lights and past the pool tables and bar stools.

  Eyes immediately turn in our direction as people huddle in small groups and the music blares. I suddenly feel overdressed like Jake suggested.

  A few interested pairs of eyes floated up and down my attire as we sat down in the restaurant earlier, because I haven’t met many people in town, and they probably wondered who I was, but now… my skin warms under their gazes, and I clutch Noah’s hand, a little uncomfortable. The place is filled with T-shirts, jeans, and beards, and who’s the moron coming in here dressed for a cocktail party in Malibu?

  I meet several pairs of eyes as we pass tables of people drinking and smoking.

  Kaleb tosses some money on the bar and gestures to all of us at the bartender, but the guy cocks his head, eyeing me with suspicion.

  “It’s okay, Mike,” I hear my uncle suddenly say behind me.

  I turn around, seeing him give the guy a smile, and that seems to do it, because the bartender nods and reaches down to pull four Buds out of the cooler, popping the tops for all of us.

  “Let’s go.” Noah nudges my arm.

  I follow them all—except for Kaleb, because he disappeared once he got his beer—over to the foosball table, and Noah and I pair up against Jake. I ignore the eyes I feel on my back and take a sip of my beer before setting it down on the table with Noah’s and Jake’s.

  “They played this on The Karate Kid, right?”

  Jake’s eyes light up. “Very good.”

  I almost laugh at his delighted expression. Seems there’s still hope for me yet.

  We play a few games, Jake winning every time despite being by himself, and I have to pull my hair over my shoulder to get it off my back by the time we finish the third game, because I’m starting to sweat.

  The music in here isn’t my style usually, but the crowd feeds off it, loud and happy, and I barely even notice the cold gusts of wind that rush through the front door every time someone arrives or leaves. Some old-timer walks through, dusting snow off his hat, but nothing disturbs the good time.

  “I’m gonna grab another one,” Jake tells us after the last game, gesturing to his beer.
/>   I pick up mine still sitting on the table, untouched, and look around the room as he walks off.

  Some racers sit off to the back, and I recognize a few of the guys and girls from the group at my uncle’s house a couple times, and I spot a woman in a cheap little veil surrounded by others at the bar, all of them throwing back shots. Her tight, black T-shirt reads “Marissa’s Last Stand” in blingy jewels that sparkle in the dim light.

  The song on the jukebox ends, and a few couples nestled on a small patch of floor who are dancing let go of each other and make their way back to their tables.

  “Wanna play some pool?” Noah shouts over the noise.

  I stare at the jukebox, bringing the bottle to my lips. “I want to play some music,” I tell him and flash him an apologetic smile as I hold out my hand for money. “Please?”

  He rolls his eyes but reaches into his pocket and digs out some ones for me. Jake has my money. Noah knows I’m good for it.

  He hands me a couple bills, and I snatch them up. “Thank you.”

  Strolling off, I head for the music.

  Jake stands at the bar, talking to some guy, and I still haven’t seen Kaleb since we got in here. I stop at the jukebox and look around for him. Kaleb has barely spared me a glance since he gave me the belt earlier tonight, but something about his present keeps gnawing at me, and I’m not sure why.

  He made it. By hand. For me.

  He knew my birthday was coming.

  I love that each of them put some thought into what I might like, even though they really didn’t have to get me anything at all. It was nice opening up a gift I would buy for myself, instead of a lavish present that tries way too hard to put a price on impressing someone.

  Kaleb put in hours of work, though. The thought of him in his workroom in the barn, quietly working, head hung over my belt, out there alone all that time… for me.

  But then I shake my head.

  I’m overanalyzing. He probably had that belt already made and laying around. He just grabbed it as he was leaving his room, and it probably does have some weirdo sexual undertone with all those notches, like Noah said.

  I scroll the song selections, finally seeing something not country and put in a bill, dialing in the letter and number. “Do You Want to Touch Me There” by Joan Jett starts playing, and all of a sudden some cheers go off. I turn my head over my shoulder to see the bachelorette party holding up their arms and moving toward me, already dancing.

  I smile, ready to move out of the way, but they start screaming the words, one of them taking my hand and pulling me in with them. I laugh, unsure of what to do.

  I look around for my uncle or Noah to rescue me, but in a moment, I’m trapped and can’t see anyone. All of us crowd the small area, and I barely have room to move as everyone jumps, sways, and rocks out, the wooden floor underneath us taking a beating.

  Others close their eyes, and after a few moments, I take a deep breath and do the same, letting the music and people feed me.

  My head reels.

  I’ve always been awkward with other women. Always. I’m either worried they’ll feel they have to hold my hand in social situations or aggravated because they do. I hate being an albatross around their necks or being treated like an ignorant little sister they need to take under their wing.

  This isn’t like that, though. I just have to dance.

  I sing along with the song, flip my hair, and move my body to the music, laughing with them and feeling the energy buzz on every inch of my skin. If I had to talk to these girls, it would be a challenge, but for now, I can enjoy the music.

  Lifting up my arms, I bang my head to the lyrics, unashamed of going crazy, because so is everyone else, and I relax.

  Finally, I relax.

  Until I open my eyes.

  Jake stands paused in the middle of raising his beer to his mouth, watching me at the bar. His lips are parted slightly, and he looks like he isn’t breathing. My heart drops into my stomach, and I slow for a moment, taking a mental inventory to make sure he’s not mad.

  I’m not dancing with a local boy.

  I’m not naked.

  I came with three male relatives, so I’m not unarmed or unprotected.

  He’s not angry, I don’t think. He’s just… watching me.

  A flutter hits my stomach.

  Shifting my gaze, I see Noah at the pool table with some buddies, taking a shot of something brown, his eyes immediately turning back over to me as if he’s been keeping an eye out the whole time. His gaze is soft, but his lips are tight.

  A smile tugs at my mouth, but I don’t let it out.

  The bride-to-be wraps an arm around my waist, and I hang my arm over another woman’s shoulder, and we sing and dance, but every smile I wear is for someone else. Everything I do I hope Jake sees, and every move I make I hope Noah is watching.

  I love their attention.

  As the song ends, I laugh with the girls, all of us dispersing as a slow tune starts, and I turn around to head to my uncle at the bar.

  But as soon as I spin around, someone is there, and I look up to see Terrance Holcomb.

  “Hey, California,” he says, slipping his hands to my waist.

  I start to push him away. “Off.”

  Jake wouldn’t lie about that clubhouse this guy keeps. I don’t want anything to do with him.

  “You’ve met my friend?” he asks.

  Huh?

  At that moment, someone comes up behind me, and I turn my head to see Cici at my back. She holds my hips, too, laying her chin on my shoulder.

  They’re friends? How does that work with Kaleb in the picture?

  I fight their hold, trying not to make a scene, but every time I get loose, they reclaim their hold again.

  I look around for Jake or Noah, but we’re surrounded by people all of a sudden. Lots of people.

  Men.

  What the hell?

  All the ladies on the dance floor are gone, now replaced with Holcomb’s Motocross buddies.

  Realization dawns. We’re being surrounded by cover, so Jake and Noah can’t see.

  “What if I told you that Kaleb did hit me in the cave that day?” Cici says behind me. “Would you still want to spend the winter locked up on the peak with him?”

  I pause, stunned. What?

  “And what if I told you,” Cici continues, tracing the spaghetti strap of my dress, “that he can’t wait to make you bleed, too, and he’s just biding his time until you have no means of escaping him.”

  My mouth goes dry, and my skin crawls. Kaleb…

  Kaleb isn’t like that.

  Holcomb shakes his head, smirking. “They warned you about me, didn’t they?” he says. “You should’ve been warned about them. They only wanted you because you’re rich and beautiful. Think of what your money will do for Van der Berg Extreme and what your body will do in their beds.”

  I shake my head. No.

  “Noah won’t need a sponsor,” Holcomb goes on. “He’ll have you. More money than the rest of us could ever raise, and he won’t have to jump through hoops to get it, because you love him and you’ll let him have anything he wants.”

  “No.”

  “None of them have touched you, then?” Cici asks.

  I clench my teeth. But the wheels turn anyway, remembering Kaleb and me on the hood of the car and Jake and me in the kitchen.

  “You haven’t felt threatened?” Holcomb presses. “Not once?”

  If you had been dancing with a man like that in public, I would’ve taken you over my knee.

  I breathe hard and shallow, recalling my uncle’s threat all those weeks ago. Cici probably heard him when he pulled me away and told Terrance.

  “And now you’re eighteen,” Terrance adds. “Perfectly legal in all fifty states, just in time for the snow.”

  Words lodge in my throat, and I yank my arms free of them.

  “They don’t really like you,” Cici tells me. “You’re useful. Just like the rest of us who ser
vice them.” She rubs circles on my belly as her head remains on my shoulder. “And when they fuck you pregnant, they’ll control you—and your bank account—forever.”

  No. They’re my home. The peak is my home.

  “Stay with us,” Holcomb whispers, getting closer. “Come home with me.”

  Tears pool as they sandwich me, and as Holcomb dips his mouth into my neck, I start to cry out.

  No.

  But just then, a hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me free of them. I gasp, stumbling off the dance floor and right into Kaleb as he pulls me into his body. He brings me in, my forehead meeting his, and I look up at him through my watery eyes.

  He presses his lips hard to my forehead, and I still for a moment.

  Kaleb…

  Holcomb and Cici’s words swirl in my head, but as Kaleb’s warmth washes over me, everything they said starts to fade away more and more until there’s nothing but him.

  I exhale, closing my eyes.

  They’re not my parents. This is real. They care about me, and they want me here.

  Kaleb draws back, our foreheads meeting again as he looks down into my eyes, unblinking. Swiping his thumbs under my eyes, he dries my tears.

  I go to assure him that I’m okay, but before I can, he drops his hands, his gaze turning dark, and he shoves me behind him before lunging for Holcomb.

  Grabbing him by the neck, he throws Terrance into the jukebox, knocking into other people on the dance floor in the process.

  I wince, watching the guy hit the machine, the glass case cracking.

  All hell breaks loose. Motocross guys go after Kaleb, a bottle crashes to the floor, and a group of women gets pushed into a table, the legs scraping across the floor.

  “Kaleb!” I cry.

  Cici takes her opportunity while he’s distracted, shoving me in the chest, and I stumble back, my eyes burning with anger. Noah grabs my hand and yanks me away, my eyes burning into hers as she disappears in the crowd.

  He pulls me across the bar, and I look back at the pit of brawlers on the dance floor, not seeing Kaleb anywhere. Do they have him on the floor or something?

  The bartender leaps over the bar with a baseball bat, and Jake takes me from Noah as Noah runs back for his brother.