Thin White Line

by J. A. Templeton

  “More like a rough night.” I slide a wayward piece of hair over my ear and stare out at the passing landscape.

  “You okay?”

  I glance at him. “Yeah, I just don’t remember much of last night. I remember the party, but it’s kind of a blur after that.”

  He reaches out and squeezes my hand. The touch is fleeting, but for some reason that small show of compassion makes tears burn the backs of my eyes.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I noticed you never do drugs.”

  “I don’t use. It’s just not my thing.”

  The words are like a sharp slap to the face. I haven’t realized that I will be put in the category of a user...but I guess that’s what I am. I’ve only been in Vancouver for a couple of weeks and already I’ve used both weekends.

  “Maybe you should tell your friends no,” he suggests. Is he only talking about Brooke and Sadie now? “I just don’t want to see you go down that road, that’s all.”

  I don’t, either, but for some reason, when I cave in and do take drugs, the numbness sets in and it’s easier to deal with my life that way. That is, until I open my eyes the next morning and the guilt eats away at me. The life I lived in California and the life I live here are polar opposites. I would have never dreamed of taking drugs before, but then again, the people who I hung out with in California were in a completely differently social sphere than who I hang out with here.

  Ange would never touch drugs…ever. She’ll be appalled knowing that I have. In fact, I’m sure she’ll call me weak.

  I feel weak.

  “Where do you live?”

  I give him the directions and we fall into an awkward silence.

  “The girl at the house. The redhead. I’ve never seen her before. Is she your girlfriend?” I finally ask the question that has been eating away at me.

  He shakes his head. “No...just an acquaintance. She’s one of the loyal followers of the band.”

  And apparently an occasional lay. The familiarity between them this morning tells me it hasn’t been their first fling.

  “I imagine you have quite a loyal fan base of beautiful women.”

  “We have our fair share.” The sides of his mouth curve. “You included.”

  The compliment makes me grin.

  “I like seeing you at our gigs, Kenzie. Front and center.”

  Again, I’m surprised by the compliments and the way him saying my name makes me feel.

  “I like watching you, too. You’re really good. You must have the strongest biceps of anyone with the way you pound on the drums. It’s almost like you’re pissed off. So much rage,” I say playfully.

  He laughs and the sound is strangely comforting. Deklan is strangely comforting. He makes me feel so...calm. All of a sudden, all the weird, twisted emotions I have felt all these weeks evaporate under that smile.

  “So...tell me, what do you like to do...aside from go to your cousin’s practices and shows.”

  I stare at his long-fingered hands for a second, noting the strength in them. I bet they are callused from holding the drumsticks and from holding a tattoo gun. Although he is only twenty-two, he reminds me of someone so much older. An old soul, I think with a smile. I clear my throat. “I journal.”

  “You write?”

  “Well, it’s journaling...like talking about my life.”

  “Like a diary?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I like the word journaling better, though.”

  He seems intrigued. “So what do you write about?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess my life.”

  “But what about your life exactly?”

  “I don’t know. I write about everything. What I did that day. Who I see.”

  “Do you write about Ryder?”

  I nod. “And you, too.”

  “Me, too?” Why does he sound so surprised?

  “What else do you do?”

  “I used to like taking pictures, but I kind of got burned out on it.”

  “Burned out?” He sounds so surprised. “Why?”

  “Don’t know. I guess I got interested in boys.”

  He laughs and nods his head. “Oh, okay, now I get it and have you had many boyfriends?” There is that tone again.

  We stop at a light and he turns to look at me, his green eyes prompting me to answer.

  “I had one that was serious. Well, as serious as one gets with a super overprotective mom.”

  The expression that flashes across his face says he is confused by that response.

  “She’s a little bit more laid back now that she’s working…”

  “Understood,” he responds. “So...tell me more about this one and only that you dated. How long did you go out for?”

  “A year or so...”

  “What was he like?”

  “Sort of a jock, I guess. I mean, he was on the baseball team at school. He was also my next- door neighbor.”

  His brows lift. “A neighbor. Now that’s convenient. Did he sneak into your room at night?”

  “Ha,” I say. “Again, you obviously have never met my mother. She would have cut the balls off any guy trying to get into my room at night. It just wouldn’t have happened. Plus, the security in our neighborhood carried guns, so we weren’t big at climbing in and out of each other’s windows.”

  “Did you ever get wild and crazy?”

  I shake my head. “Not really. I had what you’d call a sheltered life. My mom attended nearly every function I was at and I have an older brother who would have beaten the crap out of anyone who tried to take advantage of me.”

  “The older brother who is now at college?”

  I nod, impressed that he had listened to our conversation when we first met.

  “What about you?”

  “I would say that I had the furthest thing from a sheltered life there is. My mom was one of those women who probably should have never had children. She openly admitted she wished she’d remained single and without a baby. Apparently, giving birth to me had limited her options.” He cracks the truck window open. “Despite all the bitching, my dad married her, though, and—to give him credit—he genuinely tried to do his best by me.”

  Just the mere mention of his father makes me not want to talk about my family life any longer. I just don’t want to go there. I’m not even sure where I stand with my dad, since he doesn’t seem to be interested in a relationship with me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He cracks a smile, but I can see pain in his eyes. “My upbringing has made me stronger.”

  Just like going through my parents’ divorce is going to make me stronger, or at least, I hope that’s what happens.

  He becomes quiet on me and I don’t push for any more information. I understand. “You know, we’re playing at the Fantasy Ballroom in a couple of weeks. I think I could score you front row passes if you want.”

  “You know the band?” I ask. Yep, I definitely have a flirty tone to my voice. “Take a right and that’s my place, the second driveway on the right.”

  I watch his reaction to where I live. Maybe there is a part of me that always took where I lived for granted. In San Diego, I lived in one of the nicer houses. Now, I hate to admit it, but I feel embarrassed.

  “I always loved these buildings,” Deklan says. “They were originally built around the fort for the families of the soldiers.”

  “Yeah, I noticed there are a lot of them downtown.” He looks really interested in seeing the inside. “You want to come in?” I ask.

  “I would like to some time, but I have a feeling your mom might question why you’re being dropped off by someone who looks like me.”

  I can tell by the way he says it, that he’s been judged by his appearance more than once in his life. “Do you get judged a lot?” I ask, curious.

  He shrugs. “It comes with the territory. Pretty soon, people don’t see the ink. They just see me.”

  I grin. I love that.

  His eyes search mi
ne and, for a second, I think he might actually go in for a kiss. Instead, he hands me the water I set down. “You’re doing your best to forget that.”

  I lift the water in mock salute. “Thanks for sticking up for me at the party. I really do appreciate it.”

  “No problem.”

  I feel compelled to give him a hug, so I do. “You’re a good guy, Deklan, you know that?”

  I’m not sure what surprises him more—the compliment or the hug. Either way, I’m glad I did both.

  He actually hugs me back. My face is pressed against his neck and I inhale deeply. He smells incredible.

  Reluctantly, I pull away and open the truck door. “I’ll see you soon.”

  He nods. “You can count on it.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I’m pissed off. Irritated that, aside from a few smiles tossed my way and a quick stolen kiss in the back room of art class, Ryder basically doesn’t acknowledge me. What am I—his dirty little secret?

  As the days go by, I feel Miss Loray’s eyes on us.

  She is definitely suspecting of me and Ryder fooling around in the backroom. I wonder if Davis said anything to her.

  “You think I could come over today?” Ryder had asked, his eyes adding a little flirt to those words.

  What, so he could seal the deal and then drop me like a hot rock? At this rate, all I had to look forward to were the weekends when it seemed he was allowed to touch me or kiss me in public. Who knew, maybe he actually needed to be high to be into me?

  “I have homework I need to get done, but maybe this weekend you could come over. My mom will be around.”

  He actually lifted his lip in a snarl. “You could come to my place, but it has to be Wednesday and Sunday night when my mom is at church.”

  Why did his mom have to be gone?

  I keep thinking over the conversation and scribble in the margin of my notebook, fighting the urge to burst into tears. How can one person make me so happy in one moment and so depressed in the next? I just wish he didn’t run hot and cold. I want the Josh Ryder who doesn’t mind slow dancing with me at college parties or making me feel irresistible when we are with our friends at Deklan and Curtis’s house.

  Not the Ryder who watches me from a distance and makes me feel like maybe I’m not quite good enough for him.

  I see Cicely in the hall. For a second, I think she might actually throw something at me. Instead, she walks right up to me and, with hands on hips, announces, “He’ll break your heart just like he does everyone else’s. You just wait and see.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, noticing that Laura watches us from her locker.

  “Everyone knows you’re seeing Ryder. It’s no secret. Word travels fast around Pacific.” She takes a deep breath and releases it with a heavy sigh. “You seem like a nice girl, though. You don’t deserve his bullshit.”

  I bet she’d be all over him if he told her he wanted to be exclusive, though.

  I wonder why she hasn’t been at any of Ryder’s practices or gigs since I arrived from California when she was hanging out before. Who knows, maybe she’s back on with her out-of-state, hockey playing ex. “Thanks for the warning,” I tell her and walk off.

  During lunch, Ryder talks with his buddies and I keep the limited conversation with Brooke going for all of fifteen minutes. My next class is Science, in a room furthest away from the cafeteria, so I leave early and think about California. Ange texts me every single day. It used to be up to ten times and now—my third week into my new school—I’m lucky to hear from her once. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like I have much to say. She asks me a million questions about what life is like. I tell her about Brooke and Sadie and, of course, about Ryder. The other day she asked me about Deklan. Apparently, I hadn’t realized that I was talking more about him of late than about Ryder.

  I haven’t responded. Maybe because I don’t know how to.

  For the first time in a long while I think of California and the life I had there. It makes me wonder what’s up with my dad. Would it kill him to try and reach out to me? I left California weeks ago and he hasn’t even picked up the phone to ask how I am.

  There have been a couple of times when I have been tempted to call him, just to hear his voice. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that he would choose to not be a part of my life.

  Although I normally wait for Brooke after school, today I just keep walking past the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. I’m angry about Ryder. I’m furious about my dad. I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and crash for the rest of the day.

  A car slows beside me giving me the urge to turn and run in the opposite direction like my mom has drilled into me from an early age. I don’t, though, I just ignore them and continue on my way until I hear Brooke’s voice. “I waited for you in the parking lot.”

  I should have at least texted her. “Sorry, I just felt like walking.”

  “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been really quiet today. During lunch, you barely said two words. Are you alright?”

  I nod and force a smile. “Yeah, I just have some stuff on my mind.”

  “Like family stuff?”

  “Partly.”

  “Are you mad at me?” I can see the concern in her expression and hear it in her voice.

  I shake my head. “No, I’m just confused.”

  “About what?”

  I consider Brooke more than just my cousin. She’s my friend, but I also don’t know where her loyalty lies. If I tell her how I’m feeling about Ryder, she will most likely drive straight to his house and tell him what a dick he is being...and then he’ll really distance himself from me. I don’t want that and I definitely don’t want things being weird between them. “I’m just in a weird place.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “You want to come to practice tonight? I could use a critique on the new song.”

  Ryder didn’t mention anything about practice. There is a part of me that wants to go just to see if Ryder acts differently towards me or, if after the night at Deklan’s, he’s over it. I am ninety percent sure we hadn’t gone all the way, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe we had and there is nothing more he wants from me.

  Or maybe I want more than Ryder can ever give me.

  “Thanks, but I have homework I need to get done. Maybe next time.”

  “At least let me take you home.”

  Knowing she won’t let up, I slide into the passenger seat, shut the door and click my seatbelt.

  “If you change your mind, I’d love to see you tonight. Okay, Kenz?”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence. She even reaches out and squeezes my hand and I have to smile. We’ve come a long way in a few weeks.

  “Is that your mom’s car?” Brooke asks as we round the corner.

  Weird. My mom’s car is in the driveway in the middle of the afternoon. “Yeah, it is.”

  Brooke glances at the clock. “What time does she usually get home?”

  “Five-thirty.”

  “Maybe their job ended early today.”

  I hope that’s the case, but I have a strange feeling. “Maybe. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  She nods. “See ya at practice.”

  I shake my head and smile as I shut the car door and walk up the steps. The door to the apartment is unlocked. I toss my backpack on a chair in the living room and stop cold. My mom is sitting on the couch; as still as a statue. The television isn’t on and, on the table beside her, there’s a wine bottle that is three-quarters of the way gone. It’s obvious she’s been crying because her mascara is streaming down her face and she has a wad of tissue in her hand.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s marrying her.”

  My stomach falls to my toes. I don’t have to ask who she’s talking about. I know my dad is into the home-wrecker, but I never imagined he would actually marry her. “How do you know?”

  “Apparently, she announced it online this mor
ning.” Mom sits back and sighs. “Our divorce isn’t even finalized, yet, and he’s already chomping at the bit to do it all over again with someone half his age. Unbelievable.”

  I know my mom didn’t see the affair coming. My dad was always the breadwinner and he spent a lot of time away from home on business. It’s just been part of his job and we all know the drill. Yet, I know, or at least I think, my mom has always believed him to be faithful.

  “He’s an idiot,” I say before I can stop myself.

  She opens her mouth and I half expect her to defend him...but she surprises me and nods in agreement. “Yes, he is.” She shakes her head. “I gave up so much for him. College, a career…”

  It isn’t all horrible. I know that and I think she does, too. She’s been betrayed, though, and now all she can see is the bad. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I really am.”

  I don’t even think she hears me. She reaches for the glass and lifts it to her lips. Without missing a beat, she pours the rest of the wine into her glass and nearly upends it in the process.

  “Cole is heading home for the weekend,” she says, running a hand through her messy hair. “I’ll need you to pick him up Friday evening.”

  I’m so disappointed. I love my brother. I mean, we are family, but the last person I want or need to see is Cole. I wonder if she called him and told him about Dad so he offered to rush home to console her. Or maybe she called him to tell him she needs him. Only Cole can make her feel better.

  “If you could pick your brother up at three o’clock sharp, that would be great.”

  “Can’t he get…” I swallow the rest of the question when Mom frowns at me.

  “What is it between you and your brother?” she snaps.

  What does she mean what is between me and my brother? Maybe the fact that he’s never taken a wrong step in his life, at least in her mind, and I have done everything I can to be the perfect child, trying to get the same praise, only to never really be acknowledged. Then again, I never excelled in anything the way Cole has.

  My dad would acknowledge me. His little princess, he called me.

  Obviously I’m not that little princess any longer.