Like Candy

by Debra Doxer

His hands gripped the keyboard on the desk, lifting it and then slamming it down again.

  Startled, I jumped and took a nervous step back.

  “Come here,” he said quietly.

  When I didn’t move, he said “now” in that quiet, controlled tone that made my blood go cold.

  Swallowing, I slowly walked toward the big wooden desk and then stepped around it to stand beside him. When he pressed some keys, a document appeared on the monitor.

  “See this?” He pointed to the document that looked like a list. “This program tracks every time someone logs into my computer. It tracks remote log-ins too. This entry right here,” he said as he moved his finger up to the top of the list. “It says someone logged in two hours ago, and it wasn’t remote. It was someone sitting right here.”

  The nerves bunching in my stomach spread, skittering down my limbs. “It must be a mistake. Theo left this morning and I’ve been asleep since—”

  “Asleep with the alarm off and the garage door unlocked,” he stated with a look of disgust.

  “But they’d have to know your password,” I said. The idea that someone had been in the house while I was sleeping was too frightening to contemplate.

  Shaking his head at me, he stood and stalked out of the room. I followed after him, trying to make sense of things. “Why would someone walk in here and break into your computer?”

  He went to his bedroom, threw open his suitcase, and began putting his clothes away, ignoring me.

  I stood there watching him as my heart hammered against my ribs. When he didn’t answer, I tried another question. “Why did you really get that alarm? It wasn’t just because of me, was it?” I thought of the woman who’d come to the house that night, accusing him of killing her husband, and I wondered if someone else whose loved one he’d hurt had somehow found him.

  He shook his head before setting down a neatly folded shirt. “You don’t need to know why. You only need to do as I say.”

  “But I live here too. Shouldn’t I know what’s going on?” I was close to tears now and working hard to hold them back. “Someone was in the house with me. What if—”

  When I broke off, his eyes narrowed, his expression changing as though he realized for the first time that I might actually be upset too. His shoulders dropped and he exhaled harshly.

  “Candy, look, you have to be more responsible. When I tell you to do something, it’s not optional or when you feel like it. If I tell you to set the alarm, you need to do it. I’m sorry I frightened you, but your inability to do something so simple is unacceptable. Please don’t let it happen again.”

  Biting the inside of my mouth so my lips wouldn’t quiver, I was speechless at the way he spoke down to me. I was upset about Theo and I screwed up. I made a mistake, but everyone makes mistakes sometimes. This wasn’t how I wanted our relationship to be. This wasn’t how I wanted my father to think of me.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to call the police,” I said.

  Ignoring me, he went back to unpacking. I should have gone to my room with my tail between my legs and left him alone, but I couldn’t make my feet move. I’d deluded myself into believing he was proud of me because I kept my grades up and spent six long years at Aunt Marion’s house without a word of complaint to him. I made sure not to cause him any trouble, but none of that mattered. He’d somehow decided who I was without really seeing me at all.

  Leaning against the doorway, I watched him move around his bedroom, putting everything exactly where it belonged as my racing heart began to slow.

  When he’d finished, he looked over at me, not surprised to find me still standing there. He appeared less tense and the creases around his mouth had smoothed out.

  “Are you in trouble?” I asked.

  It took him a moment to acknowledge my question. When he did, he shook his head but said, “No more than usual.” Then he disappeared inside his bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  In his wake, it was as though a thunderstorm had passed through the house.

  ***

  Theo: Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.

  At breakfast the next morning my father was awake for a change, joining me in the kitchen and acting as if nothing had happened last night. Taking my cue from him, I put on a brave face, pretending everything was fine, even though that was far from the truth. Everything was not fine. It was completely out of whack, and having to pretend otherwise pissed me off as I stood there silently, sipping my scalding-hot coffee.

  When I got to school, I got an earful about homecoming before I even walked into my first class. I barely listened while Lea prattled on. She’d gone to the dance with someone named Gregory, a friend of a friend who I didn’t know, and if she was still disappointed Ethan hadn’t asked her, she tried not to show it. Although she did give me an accounting of every girl Ethan danced with and exactly what time he left with a certain brown-haired junior on his arm. By the time the warning bell rang for first period, I knew much more than I ever wanted to know about what Ethan did at the dance. One of these days I was going to have to talk to him about Lea, but in a way that wouldn’t embarrass the heck out of her.

  If I was looking forward to one thing today, it was seeing Jonah. That was about the only thing that kept me from sliding into a complete funk. I kept seeing the concern in his eyes at the diner when Theo got sick, and I couldn’t get that hug he’d given me out of my mind. Jonah was different that night, and after what Theo said about the way Jonah looked at me, I couldn’t help wondering if it was true. I was dismayed by how much I wished it were true. Even if I didn’t want to date him, I wanted him to like me, which made no sense at all.

  I arrived first to English, fidgeting with impatience as the seats around me filled up. I was hoping Jonah would sit next to me, but when he finally strolled in, wearing low-hanging jeans and an olive-green sweater that complemented his eyes, there were only two free seats left, one directly behind me and another on the other side of the room.

  But Jonah never looked toward the other side of the classroom. He zeroed in on me and sauntered down the aisle, his long legs eating up the distance. He nodded before slipping into the seat behind me.

  If this were last week, I wouldn’t bother turning around, and even though I only got the usual nod from him, I decided not to read into it or take it personally. Just as I thought that, his fingers curled over my shoulder and applied light pressure, silently asking me to turn. When I did, his face was so close to mine I could see the flecks of emerald green in his eyes.

  “Was your friend okay when you got home the other night?” he asked quietly.

  I nodded. “Thanks again for your help.”

  “So you and him . . .” He watched me carefully as he spoke. “I mean, are you two . . .”

  I waited, trying not to smile at what I thought he was asking. “We’re friends,” I stated.

  He released a small breath. “That’s rough, what he’s going through.”

  “Yeah,” I said, knowing rough was a major understatement.

  Mr. Harris then closed the door and cleared his throat, signaling that class was starting.

  Before I faced forward, Jonah offered me a friendly half smile, not his usual smirk but a real smile. I smiled back, feeling a warm shivery sensation in my belly.

  As class proceeded, I was so aware of Jonah’s presence behind me that paying attention was a challenge. Every scratch of his pen and shift of his feet registered with me. It was too warm in the room, and I absently reached back to lift the hair off my neck.

  The sharp intake of breath behind me was Jonah’s. I could feel it in the way the skin on the nape of my neck tightened. He was no longer taking notes or moving his feet. He was completely still until I let my hair fall again, then he exhaled softly, his desk creaking slightly as he moved.

  Smiling to myself, I thought it was possible that I affected him the same way he affected me. When class ended, Jonah stayed behind me as we all shuffled out of the room.
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br />   “Are you still looking for an after-school job?” he asked, coming up beside me in the crowded hallway.

  His question surprised me. “Yes. Why?”

  He moved closer to allow other students to pass by. “Dempsey’s needs a hostess for the holidays. They just put a sign up.”

  “Oh.” I thought about it. Did I want to be a hostess at the diner? I imagined telling my father that I’d gotten a job and his pleased smile at hearing the news.

  “I could take you over later, after practice, and you could fill out an application.”

  The hallway was bustling with students brushing against us. With a hand at my elbow, Jonah directed me to the side, getting us out of the way.

  I tilted my head at him, very aware of his touch and the way he leaned down over me, cocooning us from the crowd. The fact that he wanted to help me get a job was awfully nice of him. “I’d appreciate that, if you really don’t mind.”

  He straightened. “I don’t mind. I figured I messed up the tutoring for you. So I owe you another opportunity.”

  Before I could tell him that he didn’t owe me anything, his gaze shifted to the side and his easy grin disappeared.

  I followed his line of sight to find Parker marching in our direction. He straightened his shoulders as he watched her approach.

  Stopping in front of him, she pointed a finger at his chest. “Don’t think you’re getting away with something. I know what you did to me.”

  His attention moved pointedly from her finger to her face. “That goes both ways.” His voice was deeper than normal, sounding close to a growl.

  Parker seemed taken aback by his tone as she lowered her hand to her side. What had she expected? For him to apologize?

  “Haven’t we done this dance already?” he asked. “I’d say we’re even.”

  “Even? Hardly.” She scoffed and her gaze flicked to me, noting we were together when she’d found him, causing the hostility in her eyes to flare. “I don’t know what makes you think you’re so much better than me,” she said to Jonah. “Especially with that hideous scar on your face, a face that only a mother could love. Oh, oops.” She covered her mouth, pretending to have slipped up, before she smiled stiffly and turned away, pushing through the gathered crowd and making a spectacle of her exit.

  I was utterly appalled, eyeing Jonah with concern. I had no idea what the story was with his mother, but Parker obviously knew she wasn’t around. And that insult about his scar? There were no words for how horrible and mean that was.

  Sighing, Jonah turned to me. “That was about as fun as a root canal. I shouldn’t have provoked her. I should have taken the high road.”

  “You didn’t provoke her,” I said. “You kept your cool. What she said—” I broke off, my gaze going to his scar.

  He rubbed it absently and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  It was the first time I’d seen him acknowledge it in any way. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter because it’s not true. She only said that to hurt you. You know that, right?” I touched his arm.

  Jonah smiled ruefully and shrugged me off. “I won’t win any beauty contests.”

  I was thrown by his response. For the first time it occurred to me that there might be a kink in the confidence Jonah projected. Was he self-conscious about his scar? Just the thought of it broke my heart. It made me want to protect him from Parker and more comments like that. It made me want to know what put that mark on him, and if its effects went deeper than just his skin.

  He shifted restlessly, seeming uneasy, and as much as I wanted to tell him that no girl in her right mind would ever think he was hideous, I sensed how badly he wanted the subject changed. “You missed it,” I said. “When the lockbox hit the floor and Parker’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. It was classic. She reminded me of one of those rubber dolls that you squeeze and the eyes bulge out.”

  He chuckled softly. “I overslept. Since it was a short day, I figured there was no point in coming in.”

  I gave him a dubious look, finding it hard to believe he cared so little about the results of his prank.

  Jonah studied me. “And I lost out on doing a victory cheer with you. Did you miss me, Seaborne? You did, didn’t you?”

  I smiled at the return of his cockiness, wanting to ensure its stay. “If you were this nice all the time, I’d miss you every day.”

  With my comment hanging in the air, I smirked at him, liking the way his expression lifted at my joke, and hoping he wouldn’t spend any more time thinking about Parker’s insult. Then I reluctantly turned and headed in the other direction before I was late for my next class.

  I looked in the mirror and scrutinized my appearance. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying too hard, but I still had to look good because I wanted this job. It would have been easy to say screw it. If my father thought so badly of me, why not live up to his expectations? Forget the job, forget family dinners, forget trying at all, but I couldn’t seem to do that. The part of me that wanted his approval was too loud, and it wouldn’t shut the hell up.

  Adding a little more lip gloss, I glanced at the clock. Jonah would be here any minute to pick me up, and he wasn’t like other boys. He kept me on my toes. He couldn’t be led around by the nose or by any other body parts. Jonah had layers, and he revealed them slowly and sparingly. I had to admit, it was fun watching him come out of his surly shell.

  I heard Jonah’s Jeep rumble up the driveway before I saw it. Grabbing my bag, I made sure to turn off the alarm and then arm it again on my way out. The fact that someone had been in the house with me while I slept was constantly on my mind, and I wasn’t taking any chances. At dinner tonight, I planned to ask my father again what was going on, hoping that twenty-four hours had taken the edge off and made him more reasonable.

  Jonah was coming up the walkway as I locked the door behind me. “I wanted to make sure you brought your gloves. Even with the heat cranked up, I can’t get the chill out of the car.”

  He wore his black leather coat, the one he’d put around my shoulders at Parker’s party, and the color blended with his glossy black hair that curved over the collar. His thoughtfulness about my hands never failed to surprise me. I held up my gloves to show him I’d brought them.

  “Do you know someone else with Raynaud’s?” I asked, remembering how he hadn’t seemed thrown by my purple fingers when he first saw them.

  He nodded. “My dad gets it from riding his motorcycle, but I’m guessing it’s a little different with you.”

  I nodded, recalling that I’d read something about extended exposure to vibrations causing Raynaud’s too. “Nothing moving to Hawaii won’t cure.” I laughed lightly. “Your dad sounds pretty cool, riding motorcycles, stealing locker combinations.”

  “Yeah, he’s okay as far as dads go. Have your hands always been like this?”

  “No. It started when I was around thirteen. I have CREST syndrome, actually,” I explained as we got into the Jeep.

  Jonah actually opened my door for me and waited until I was inside to close it again. “Like the toothpaste?” he asked as he settled behind the wheel.

  I smiled. “It’s an acronym. Each letter in CREST stands for a symptom you can have, although I think they’re calling it limited scleroderma now. Anyway, Raynaud’s is my main symptom. My mother had it too.”

  I also had some esophageal reflux. That’s what the e stands for, and telangiectasias, the t, which were the small red dots on my fingers where blood vessels burst. Other symptoms I could get were calcium deposits beneath my skin and sclerodactyly, the hardening of the skin on my hands, neck, and face. Luckily, there was no sign of that one so far.

  Not everyone with this disease got every symptom, although the doctors couldn’t explain why. My mother’s most severe symptom was Raynaud’s also, and I could manage it as long as I didn’t get caught in the cold for hours without my coat and gloves. If that ever happened, I might not be able to count to twenty using my fingers and toes anymo
re.

  Jonah turned onto the main road and the heaters kicked up, blowing hot air at me from every direction. “Do you have any hobbies, Seaborne?”

  I looked at him oddly, never quite knowing what he was going to say. “Cooking, I guess. Although, I don’t know if that counts as a hobby.”

  “It counts. Those muffins you made were really good. Speaking of food, bring an actual lunch on Monday and I’ll show you where I go to eat sometimes.”

  His offer pleasantly surprised me. “You’re going to show me where you disappear to at lunch?”

  Jonah’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Yes, but don’t get too excited because then I’m going to have to kill you.”

  My mouth quirked into a smile. “What does any of this have to do with my having a hobby?”

  He looked at me. “You’ve shown me your hobby. I’ll show you mine. It’s only fair.”

  His hobby? My eyebrows shot up. “Do you stay on school grounds for this hobby?”

  He nodded.

  I racked my brain, wondering what it was. “You’re not going to take me down to the basement to show me how you torture small animals, are you?”

  “Nah.” He shrugged. “I torture freshmen in the basement.”

  I laughed, hoping he was kidding.

  After parking in front of the diner, he turned off the ignition and got out. A moment later he was pulling my door open and waiting for me. This was a habit of his. I’d never had a guy do that for me, and I had to admit I liked it a lot.

  I climbed out and walked with him inside. Both brothers who ran Dempsey’s, Sam and Stephen, were standing behind the long counter when we arrived. Seeing them together, I realized they could practically be twins, even though I knew Sam was older. Both had wispy gray hair and were very thin and tall, nearly the same height.

  They grinned widely when they spotted Jonah.

  “You remember Seaborne,” Jonah said. “She’s been in here with me a couple of times.”

  “It’s Candy,” I clarified, rolling my eyes at his stubborn determination not to use my first name.