Expiration Date

by Kristin Coley

  He chuckled, “Too smart for your own good.” His smile faded as he informed me, “Two weeks. That’s all she would agree to.” My face fell and he held up his hands. “It’s a trial period. For you and for us. This is uncharted territory, Joy. The last time you went to a public school was kindergarten and that didn’t go so well.”

  I swallowed an instinctive protest, knowing he was right. I remembered the terror and pain as I collapsed under the weight of all the other kids’ deaths, dying over and over again, as their efforts to help only increased my agony. They declared me autistic not long after and I’d never gone back to a traditional school again.

  Until now.

  I took a deep breath, gazing at him hopefully. “So, when do I start?”

  “How’s tomorrow sound?” My face ached my smile was so big and he laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes then.” I nodded, almost giddy at the thought. I tried to tell myself my excitement was over the opportunity to go to high school with my peers, but the memory of a pair of navy blue eyes made a liar out of me. “We’ll take you in the morning to get enrolled.”

  Impulsively, I hugged him and he tensed. I pulled back quickly, before he could return the hug and he stared at me in astonishment. “Thank you,” I said gratefully, nodding my head as I skirted around him.

  “You’re welcome,” I heard him say softly behind me, the happiness in his voice bringing a smile to my face. I texted Hope back to let her know I wasn’t broken, my affliction was in fact fully in effect on anyone who wasn’t Brandon Hall. I skipped telling her that I would be attending their high school, imagining she’d figure it out when I showed up the next day.

  “Two days,” I whispered to myself. “We have two days to save Brandon.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Joy

  I cursed under my breath as my fingers slipped again, spinning the dial on the combination lock and screwing up the combination for the fifteenth time.

  “Need a hand?”

  Broad shoulders propped against the locker next to mine as blunt fingers gently took the lock from my hand. “What’s the combo?”

  “Isn’t the whole point of a lock not to tell people how to access your stuff?” I asked, raising my eyes to meet a dark blue gaze.

  “Yes, but you can trust me,” he answered confidently. He lowered his voice as he said confidingly, “I rescued a girl from a raging fire. Some might call me a hero.”

  “16, 2, 35,” I rattled off and his fingers spun the dial, popping the lock in a matter of seconds. “Impressive.”

  “One of my many skills.” He gazed at me curiously. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” I set a couple of books in my locker, eager to get rid of them and he must have taken my silence as offense. “Not that I’m not glad to see you,” he added hurriedly. “It’s just unexpected.”

  “I didn’t really expect to need saving again either, but here we are.” I shut my locker, tempted to leave the stupid thing unlocked since I had no plans to take my gloves off, when he spun the combo again.

  “This way all you have to do is pull the lock next time,” he explained quietly, rolling his neck when I thanked him.

  “You’re the first person not to ask me about them,” I said softly and he glanced at me, quirking an eyebrow curiously. I wiggled my fingers, encased in black leather gloves. “Even the teachers question me. One of them – Martin, I think – insisted I take them off.”

  “Sounds like him,” Brandon agreed, then gave me a quick glance. “You didn’t, did you? Because I’m pretty sure he can’t make you. It’s not against the dress code or anything.”

  I shook my head, smiling at his immediate defense. “No, I did not. I told him he could shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

  A laugh burst out of him, and anyone who hadn’t already been gawking at the star football player with the weird new Goth girl, turned to stare. “I would have paid to see that.”

  “Well, it didn’t come out exactly like that. It was more like I recited the Americans with Disabilities Act until his eyes glazed over.”

  “Either way, putting Martin in his place makes you the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

  “Gloves and all?” I asked meaningfully.

  His gaze skimmed over me as he dipped his head and whispered, “Chicks in leather are always hot in my book.” He winked, whistling as he ducked into his next class, leaving me standing there, stunned.

  ***

  I scanned the crowded lunchroom, searching for Hope, finally spotting her in the corner, her back to the other students as she faced one of the few windows. I weaved through the mass of students, ignoring the glances and whispers as I kept my arms tucked close to my sides.

  The entire day had been a challenge and it wasn’t over yet, I thought as I saw Houston cut across the cafeteria and head straight for Hope. I slowed my steps, torn between wanting to give them privacy and curiosity over their conversation. Curiosity won as Houston waved his hands, more animated than I’d ever seen him.

  “What is going on, Hope? What did you do to my sister? And what does Brandon Hall have to do with all of this?” Hope spared him a brief glance as I hovered near them, close enough to hear, but still out of their line of sight. “You took Joy to a high school party? She’s fragile,” he bit out and Hope laughed.

  “The last word I’d ever use to describe your sister is fragile,” she pooh-poohed, pointing the slice of pizza she held at him. “I have a question for you.”

  He frowned in frustration, but muttered, “What?”

  “Do you believe me?” She asked simply and his face contorted as he struggled to find an answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m not answering your questions until you can answer yes to that question.”

  “Hope.” Her name said everything he couldn’t and she shook her head tiredly.

  “Trust me, Houston. The questions only get harder and the answers crazier,” she said softly, and he clamped his mouth shut, his lips turning white. I decided it was time I interrupted and cleared my throat as I strode toward them.

  They both glanced up in surprise as my presence ended their stare down. “Joy,” Houston’s voice held no infliction and Hope only gave me commiserating smile. “I have to go.” He stood up, offering me his seat even though there was no one else seated at the table. “I need to make up a pop quiz I missed,” he explained, his gaze avoiding ours. “I’m sure you have things to discuss,” he added bitterly.

  Hope kept her head down as she picked at her pizza, only glancing at me when he was gone. “That’s why I don’t tell people,” she mentioned, trying to smile and failing.

  “He’ll come around,” I promised and she nodded as her forehead furrowed in thought.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she confessed as I unpacked my lunch. “What’s he going to do when he realizes it’s all true?”

  “He can handle it,” I assured her.

  “Yeah, but will he be able to handle me?” She murmured so quietly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear her. I didn’t have an answer either way so I remained silent. She shook off the heavy mood and forced a grin my way. “So, how’s your first day of high school?”

  “Weird,” I declared, taking a bite of my sandwich as a genuine grin lit her face. “I thought I was weird but nope. High school has me beat.”

  “Yeah, I could see that. Everybody is trying to fit in and be unique all at the same time.”

  “It’s exhausting.” I mumbled, cramming a chip in my mouth. “I don’t know how you do it with what you can….see.” She gestured to the window we sat facing.

  “I try to avoid looking honestly.” She glanced at me. “I saw Brandon earlier in the hall.” She shook her head. “His expiration date hasn’t changed, but from what I can figure,” she leaned closer, lowering her voice, “It happens after school. Probably during football practice. Without knowing anything else, all we can do is keep our eyes on him.”

  “Who are we keeping our eyes on?”

  “Amber
,” Hope declared, surprise crossing her face as Amber sat down at our table. “You’re sitting with us.”

  “Way to state the obvious,” she teased, picking up a carrot stick and dipping it into hummus. “Who are we keeping our eyes on? Hmmm?” She glanced at me deliberately. “Brandon Hall, maybe?” I dipped my head, picking up my sandwich again. “I heard he was talking to you outside Chem.” I continued to chew, not answering her. “You know, stealing another girl’s crush is a bitch move.”

  I choked and Hope’s hand hovered over my back before gingerly patting me between the shoulders.

  “You like him?” I asked Amber once I’d managed to clear the blockage from my throat and her mouth dropped.

  “No, I’m talking about Hope, you freak,” she hissed angrily.

  “Hope?” I echoed, stupefied. “She’s with my brother.”

  “I think there’s been a small misunderstanding,” Hope hurried to interject. “I wasn’t interested in Brandon for myself,” she attempted to explain, drawing Amber’s frown. “But for Joy.”

  “You were checking him out for your boyfriend’s sister,” Amber stated flatly.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” Hope corrected, causing Amber and I to share an exasperated glance. Amber glanced away first, looking uncomfortable.

  “I shouldn’t have called you a freak,” she murmured, and I had a feeling it was the closest thing to an apology I would ever get.

  I lifted my shoulder. “You were protecting Hope.” She nodded, accepting my acknowledgement of her apology.

  Hope eyed us, still chewing as she said, “You two kiss and make up then?”

  “We understand each other,” Amber replied, arching an eyebrow at me and I nodded. “Also, for all intents and purposes, Houston is your boyfriend.”

  Hope grumbled, swallowing her pizza as she lifted her water bottle. “He’s not exactly talking to me at the moment.”

  “Couples fight,” Amber said airily. “It’s why making up is so much fun.” We both stared at her and she shrugged. “It’s true, but I wish you would have told me the whole Joy and Brandon thing earlier.” She rolled her eyes. “I would have given her the makeover.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Yeah, not necessary.”

  Hope and I spoke at the same time and I waved my hand expressively. “There’s a reason I wear gloves,” I told Amber and her nose wrinkled.

  “I thought it was because you liked the Goth look.”

  “Not exactly,” I stated, not saying anything more as the bell rang.

  ***

  “You want to get out of here?”

  I spun around, not needing to see him to know who had spoken. “You want me to skip classes on my second day of school?” I questioned, frowning playfully, as I tried to buy myself time to think. Brandon was set to die in 2 hours, 33 minutes and I didn’t know how many seconds, but I could always text Hope and find out. We thought it was going to happen at football practice but seeing him standing in front of me now, I suspected we were wrong.

  “Only if you want that drink I owe you,” he retorted, a half-hearted grin on his face. I cast around for some excuse to keep him here, unsure if it would change his death or cause it. He shifted restlessly, desperation peeking through the façade he wore and I made my decision.

  “Any chance we can get ice cream instead?” I asked, widening my eyes hopefully.

  His cheek creased as he nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”

  ***

  “Good idea,” he complimented, taking a bite of his waffle cone as we sat on the top of a picnic table. I delicately licked my scoop of mint chocolate chip, savoring the flavor along with the thrill of playing hooky.

  My phone buzzed against my hip again but I ignored it. I’d texted Hope what was going on and she was freaking out. She’d verified Brandon’s countdown hadn’t changed and neither had mine. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen today but I was content to be here with him. Her constant reminders of how much time we didn’t have wasn’t going to change anything.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He glanced over at my question and I swirled my tongue around the ice cream. He closed his eyes, laughing lightly. “You did that intentionally.”

  “Maybe,” I admitted with a grin. “You can tell me no. Won’t hurt my feelings.”

  He shook his head, glancing down at his half eaten cone. “I had to get away. You ever feel like that? Like you just need to escape before the weight of everything crushes you?”

  “Yeah, I’m familiar with that feeling. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to live in the woods without a soul around me.”

  “Exactly! No obligations, or expectations.” He tossed the rest of his cone in the trash, leaning forward on his knees. “No disappointments.”

  “You or them?”

  “Huh?” He turned to me questioningly.

  “Who is doing the disappointing? You or them?” I clarified, taking another lick of my ice cream.

  “Them,” he said shortly, rubbing his hands over his face. “Specifically, one person.” He tugged on his lower lip with his teeth. “My brother.”

  I went to touch his arm, freezing when I remembered my gloves. I pulled my hand back, hating the thought of touching him with them on.

  “I don’t mind the gloves,” he revealed, reaching over to take my hand. “They’re a part of who you are.”

  A rueful smile twisted my lips. “You don’t even know why I wear them.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he stated matter of fact.

  “I believe you,” I murmured, taking a chance and slipping my hand from his, and he drew back, embarrassed. “I wear them for protection,” I told him, glossing over the truth. “But I don’t need protection from you,” I continued, tugging the gloves off and resting my naked hand on his arm. A quiver of nerves shot through me, but there was nothing. No pain, no death, nothing but the feel of his bare skin under my exposed fingers. The prickle of his arm hair tickled and I plucked at it.

  “You’re kinda quirky,” he stated, his gaze focused on my hand touching him. He smiled. “I like it.”

  I slid my hand against the inside of his arm until our palms met, and pressed the tips of my fingers against his. He flexed his fingers, pressing them firmly against mine. “You want to tell me what the gloves protect you from?”

  “A story for another day.” There was almost a question in my reply as I wondered if there would be another day, but he only nodded, accepting my answer.

  “My older brother….he’s been having some – issues. Saying stuff, talking….well, talking crazy. He dropped out of school.” He turned to me, our fingers pressed together so tightly it was almost painful. “Full ride. Academic scholarship. He’s stupid smart, not like me.” I bumped his shoulder, not liking that and he shook his head, laughing mirthlessly. “It’s true. Without football I’m just another guy who’s barely passing. It’s all I can do to keep my GPA high enough to stay on the team. Bradley, though. He’s smart. Was smart.” He exhaled. “I don’t know anymore. He looks at me sometimes –” He stopped, swallowing hard. “It’s almost like he hates me.”

  “That doesn’t sound normal,” I replied carefully.

  “It’s not,” Brandon burst out. “We used to be best friends. He taught me how to throw a football. I planned to go to the same college as him, if I could get a football scholarship. We had all these plans.” He paused, his shoulders drooping. “Now, he can’t stand to be in the same room as me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words inadequate as I squeezed his hand between both of mine. “Can you talk to him about it?”

  “I’ve tried. He doesn’t make sense. At least, I don’t understand him,” he admitted with a hard swallow. “I hate going home now, afraid of what he might say to me. He showed up at school a couple of weeks ago, angry at me and I don’t even know why.”

  Ice formed inside of me and I gripped his hand tighter. “You don’t think he would hurt you, do you?”<
br />
  “No, he’s my brother,” he replied instantly, but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “There’s just something going on with him.” He gave me a reassuring smile, except it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re easy to talk to you, you know that?”

  I nodded, letting it go, since I wasn’t sure how his brother would cause his death today. No one even knew where we were. “We should go swing,” I suggested, hopping off the table and throwing my empty ice cream cup in the trash.

  “Swing? I haven’t done that,” he paused, something bittersweet reflected on his face, “I haven’t done that in years.”

  “Then, today is the perfect day,” I cajoled, moving away from him. “I’ll race you,” I cried over my shoulder as I ran toward the swing set across the street. I heard him behind me, and knew he could easily beat me so I pumped my arms faster, the empty park making me over confident.

  “Joy,” he shouted, sounding further away than I expected. I twisted, seeing him come toward me in a slow jog, my gloves clenched in his fist. I realized I’d left them on the picnic table and he’d gone back for them.

  His gaze was focused on me, but when I heard an engine rev, the sound drew my gaze, and I stared in horror as a car came too fast down the road, barreling straight for Brandon.

  “NO,” I screamed, running back toward him, cursing myself for letting this happen. I knew he was destined to die. Hope had texted me nonstop as his countdown drew nearer and still I hadn’t stopped it. My focus had been on him and the way it felt to touch his skin and not on what was important.

  Out of nowhere, a guy in a black hoodie slammed into Brandon, pushing him out of the way of the car just in time. I heard them hit the ground with a heavy thump as the car that almost hit them peeled away.

  “Brandon,” I cried, falling to the ground next to him. “Are you okay?” My attention was focused on Brandon and not the guy who’d saved him. I almost missed it as he stood, glancing up only to see his sleeve had been pushed up, a tattoo on the inside of his arm as he walked away. “Thank you,” I called after him, biting my cheek as I heard my phone ringing. I yanked it from my pocket just in time to for it to stop, but within a second it had started again, Hope’s name flashing across the screen.