Caught in Us

by Layla Hagen

  Chapter Five: Dani

  At lunchtime, I prepare to go to the cafeteria when Hazel says, "I've got to go. Mom is picking me up early today."

  "Oh, right. I forgot. You're going to Lake Tahoe for the weekend."

  "That's right." She beams, rubbing her palms together in excitement. "And the week after Valentine’s Day, we'll go to London. Mom is at the principal right now, trying to convince him to give me two weeks off, so we can make a tour."

  "I'll be surprised if he doesn't agree. Your mom can talk anyone into anything." I know it's selfish, but I'm jealous of Hazel. She and her parents do something together every other weekend. Sometimes they take me with them, but it's embarrassing to intrude on their family time too often. Their family time feels real, not a wisp of resemblance to the weekly Thursday night dinners at my house. They laugh together, and Hazel's parents get involved in every way in her life. I crash at her place often. The weekends I don't spend with Hazel, I try to spend with James. Nothing like my brother to ensure my belly hurts from too much laughing. The time with him is almost enough to fill me with energy for a week of being ignored and being on my own in my parents' enormous mansion.

  Almost.

  ***

  I say goodbye to Hazel and her mom, then buy myself lunch and go up to the roof, as usual, only to find it occupied. Damon is lying on his back, his eyes closed as he soaks in the sunlight. Next to him is a half-eaten sandwich.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask loudly.

  "Avoiding people." He pushes himself up in a sitting position, and I’m distracted by the wind blowing through his hair. It dislodges a few dark tresses, and they stray around wildly. "What are you doing here?"

  "This is where Hazel and I eat lunch. Same reason as you."

  "Isn't the roof off-bounds, at least for nerds with a teacher-defending streak like you?" His comments should rub me the wrong way, but he's smiling—not smirking—as he says it, and there is no malice in his voice. It flatters me. He takes a bite of his sandwich and grimaces in disgust.

  "Oh, but nerds like me know where the good food is in the cafeteria." I sit next to him and hold out my burger, beckoning him to take a bite.

  "This is good," he says incredulously. "How did I end up with this crap?"

  "It's your fault. Why did you go to the sandwich and salads corner?"

  "Because there was no line there."

  I grin. "That should've been a straightforward hint that the food there sucks."

  "They charge a shitload of fees. Shouldn't all the food be good?"

  "Well, technically, that," I point to his sandwich, "is the best food. It's in the healthy corner."

  He snorts. "Figures. World's weirdest paradox. Everything that's healthy tastes like crap."

  "They had a decent tuna salad yesterday."

  "You eat tuna salad? And I thought you were okay."

  "It wasn't too bad. More burger?"

  "Aren't you going to be hungry later on? It's not that big," he says. I assure him it's all right, and we share my burger in silence. I become aware of his proximity, and I remember how it felt to have his arms around me, to breathe in his breath. A flutter in my stomach alerts me that my thoughts are heading into dangerous territory. It probably meant nothing to him. Still, watching him eat and licking his lips fills me with more strange sensations...like heat and ache for something unknown.

  "Where is your friend?” he asks. “The one you sit with in all the classes?"

  "Her mom picked her up early today. They’re traveling this weekend."

  He twists a leather bracelet on his wrist. Like everything else he wears, it's black.

  "Who are you mourning?" I ask. Damon pauses in the act of playing with the bracelet. The skin around his eyes tightens a notch. "Sorry, that's none of my business. You don't have to tell me. I shouldn't have asked."

  "My mother."

  "I'm sorry."

  His eyes drift over the trees in the distance. "She died of a stroke. She had her first one four years ago and it left half her body paralyzed. She had her second one last month and died." His eyes are bright and shiny. I think he's withholding tears, which bewilders me. Not because he feels pain, that's natural. I just didn't expect him to express it in front of me.

  "And you came here to live with your dad."

  His posture changes in the fraction of a second. "Yeah," he says through gritted teeth. Something tells me he knows how to deal with anger better than with pain. "First time I saw him was at Mom's funeral."

  "What?"

  He balls his palms to fists. "He knocked up Mom when she was sixteen, and then took off. Mom never heard from him again. Still can't believe he had the nerve to show up at her funeral."

  "The bright side to this is that you didn't get sent to a group home. You're not eighteen yet. Do you have any other family?"

  "Grandparents. My mother's parents, but I never met them. They didn't want anything to do with Mom after she had me."

  "Oh." Really, oh; that's terrible. I make a mental note not to complain about my parents anymore. They might not be the most affectionate people, but they would never turn their back on me or James.

  "You were right this morning," he says.

  "About what?"

  "That I'm frustrated and lash out at people."

  "Does that make you feel better?"

  "Not really. But this," he gestures with his fingers between the two of us, "does. You're easy to talk to." His pulls his gaze to me, and an involuntary sigh escapes my lips. There's something devastating about the intensity of his green eyes. It muddles my thoughts. "You put something in that burger?"

  "A truth potion?" My voice is strangely high-pitched.

  "You know if you ever tell anyone about this conversation, I will vehemently deny it?"

  I grin. "Ah, you're careful not to ruin your bad boy image. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. But I warn you, if you behave like an asshole again, I’ll have no problem calling you out on it in front of people."

  "Is this a threat?" He leans forward, and I'm suddenly too preoccupied with his lips to come up with an answer.

  "You bet it is," I finally stammer.

  "Fair enough. Someone should call me out."

  "People do. Principal Charleston did this morning."

  "Yeah...Older people do all the time. But if you call me out, I must be doing something wrong."

  "Interesting yardstick you're using to measure how much of an asshole you are."

  He studies me, stretching out lazily. "What brought this on?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Yesterday, it seemed like you’d be happy if I disappeared."

  I hesitate. "Do you know our fathers work together?"

  "Your last name's Cohen, right? I heard it in class and thought it sounded familiar."

  "Yeah."

  "I didn't get the impression your parents like my father too much. They're smart."

  "You're right, they don't like him. They said I should steer clear of you."

  Damon breaks into guffaws, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me toward him so I land face-first in his chest. "And you decided to do the exact opposite?" His aftershave catches me unprepared, the mix of musk and the manly scent coming off his skin dizzying me. I'm trembling with the awareness of our closeness.

  "Yeah."

  He laughs the same heartfelt laugh for a full minute before calming enough to say, "I like you, Dani Cohen. Very much. You always say what you think, don't you?"

  "My brother keeps telling me this."

  "He's right."

  "Where did you live before?" I ask.

  "Rhode Island, but I don't want to talk about home. You do the talking while I busy myself finishing your burger."

  "What do you want me to talk about?"

  "What are you doing this weekend?"

  "Oooh, I'm doing a movie marathon with my brother. He lives in a penthouse in San Jose and has a home theater."

  "What are you watching?" he asks
between bites.

  "All movies based on comic books from the last twenty years."

  "Doing your homework before the big superhero reboot comes in cinemas? Like anyone needed a new version."

  "I know, right? But I'm a sucker for comic book-based movies, so I'll go see it."

  "Me, too. We could go together." He throws the words casually, but my pulse starts jackhammering. Taking the very last bite of my burger, Damon lies on his back, resting his head on his palms. "Do you hang out with your brother often?"

  "Yeah. We mostly watch movies, go shopping, or eat out. Sometimes, during the summer vacation, we go sailing. He's a bit of an adrenaline junkie, does skydiving and stuff, but doesn't take me with him for that."

  "You'd like to skydive?" There is so much disbelief in his voice...it's almost insulting.

  "No idea. How can I like something if I've never tried it? You can't discard anything as bad until you've tried it," I say. His eyes glint so darkly it sends a shiver down my spine. I like this—both the glint and the shiver.

  "Careful, Dani; this type of thinking can get you into trouble."

  "You know all about it, don't you?"

  "Trust me, I do. I’m walking trouble. You should stay away from me. It’s catchy." Something in his tone tells me this is the last thing he wants to say on this topic.

  "How do you get along with your dad?"

  Any trace of a smile melts from his beautiful face. "You mean when I don't want to punch him? I hate him. He hates me, too."

  "I don't think that's true. Why would he have taken you in otherwise?"

  "Remorse or something. I don't know. But it's clear he doesn't want me here. We avoid each other, and when we do end up in the same room, we fight. I feel like a prisoner in that fucking house. It's so big you could fit ten families inside, but it feels like a prison."

  I don't say anything. I haven't been through what he has, but the feeling of being trapped is familiar.

  "If you need to talk, you can call me." I poke him in the ribs playfully. "Since you have my number and all."

  We walk together to the afternoon class, which garners us incredulous stares. Damon doesn't notice, but I do. James texts me that he'll take the bag of clothes I left at home and pick me up right after school to start our weekend together. That's a bonus few hours with him since the original plan was he'd pick me up from home tonight.

  When classes are over, I tell Damon, "Promise me you won't get into trouble with your dad."

  "I promise."

  Chapter Six: Damon

  The shouting begins the moment I set foot in the house. "Your behavior at school is unacceptable." George stands in the lobby of the monstrosity of glass and steel he calls home. It's as cold as ice, and cost him a fortune. Giving Mom the proper care would have cost him a fraction of that.

  "Tell that to someone who cares; I've got to go." I throw the backpack on the floor, pushing it away with my foot.

  "Where are you going?"

  "That's none of your business." I make a point to stare anywhere except at him. I look like him, and I hate myself for it—what if I’m like him? What if the greatest things I'll achieve will be gambling my way through life and ruining other people? I take a step back, repelled by his presence. This man represents everything I hate.

  "You live under my roof, Goddamn you." He does a poor imitation of a father figure, not that I can compare him to anyone. I never had someone to fill in that role, and I was happy with the way things were.

  "Not by my choice. I'm happy to leave."

  "You need to behave, boy." His face grows harder by the second, the veins in his temple thickening. It's almost comical. "I am just starting to build a reputation with my business partners, and you will not ruin it."

  Squinting, I chortle. "So that's what this is about."

  "The principal called me today and told me you were seen with the Cohen girl."

  "What the fuck?" I force myself to breathe in and out and to keep my hands from throwing punches at him, which is something I've wanted to do since I first saw him. "You pay him to spy on me? That's low, even for you."

  "Damon, you're a ticking bomb." Throwing his hands in the air, he looks a tad theatrical. Fake it till you make it holds true for wannabe parents, too. "He's watching you for his school's sake, not because I'm paying him. Stay away from that girl."

  "Stay out of my business," I say through gritted teeth then trot past him, heading for the door.

  "Where are you going? We're not done."

  "I'm done," I throw the words over my shoulder before banging the door in his face, stepping out right in the blinding light. "Fuck." Is the sun always up in this craphole even in January? I miss home: the rain, the wind. I could always count on that to cool me off.

  I cooled off when I was on the rooftop with her. I could lie to myself and say it was the breeze, but it was her presence. Her innocence made me think that maybe not all good things in this world have ended. Her laughter filled a void that felt unfillable and her curiosity about me...it almost convinced me that I'm more than a fuck-up without a future.

  I like her.

  In other words, I'm screwed.

  Chapter Seven: Dani

  On Monday, Damon comes to school with a black eye and a split lip. I watch with horror as he enters Trig, fifteen minutes after Mr. Smith started torturing us with the lesson. Damon proceeds to his seat, ignoring the teacher's reprimands. But there is more in Mr. Smith's tone than annoyance at Damon's late arrival. There is worry, and I worry, too.

  "What do you think happened to him?" Hazel whispers, while pretending to solve the exercise Mr. Smith gave us. We both dislike Trig, which makes this class downright painful.

  "I don't know." Secretly, I have a somber feeling I do know. I flip my smartphone between my fingers, tempted to text him, but I'm not bold enough. He hasn't texted me at all since Friday. Maybe it was just a one-time thing.

  "Ask him," Hazel beckons as if reading my thoughts.

  I glance at him, making a truce with myself: if he's playing with his phone, I’ll text him. If not, I'll swallow my curiosity. To my astonishment, Damon is bent over a notebook, scribbling. I suspect he's doing crosswords or whatever, but when Mr. Smith asks, "Anyone have the answer?" Damon is the only one who says yes.

  Mr. Smith reluctantly asks him to explain his solution on the whiteboard. Damon writes out the answer with a mix of carelessness and confidence. Anna and her friends watch him, whispering continuously. I have a hunch they're not gossiping about his Trig knowledge. None of them looks at him with worry, though. I guess the bruises just make him even more attractive. Whatever.

  "He's hot and good at Trig?" Hazel says, groaning. "This should be illegal." As should showing up bruised at school. "I think we should resign from our jobs as Chief Nerd Officers."

  "What?" I ask, confused.

  "What's the point of being a nerd if I have to spend hours studying for Trig to get it, and then someone like him walks in and just knocks it out of the park?"

  I swear that when he puts down the marker and swirls around, biting his lower lip, there is a collective sigh from Anna and her friends.

  "That's a neat way to solve that exercise, Damon," Mr. Smith says, clearly impressed. "Were you in an Advanced Placement course in your previous school?"

  "No, but I was in a math contest. Our teacher did some extra lessons with the participants."

  "Well, your teacher did an excellent job." Mr. Smith eyes Damon's bruises like he wants to say something about them, but then dismisses the class. Hazel and I barely pack our bags when Anna is already at Damon's desk, trying to make conversation. There goes my chance to ask him about his weekend during this break.

  "I bet she's asking him for tutoring in Trig," Hazel says.

  "I think she can come up with more exciting activities, Hazel."

  "Come to think of it, maybe we should ask for some tutoring." She nudges my shoulder. "You could ask him."

  "Why me?" My neck grows
warm. I told her about having lunch with him on Friday, though I didn't go into much detail.

  "You know why. Go ahead; ask him."

  I nod, but I want to ask him something else.

  ***

  I don't get to talk with Damon all morning because during the breaks, Anna is hovering around him. At lunch, Hazel and I are among the last to arrive in the cafeteria. We stand in line for the unhealthy food—pepperoni pizza today.

  "Lunch on the roof?" a deep voice asks right into my ear. My reaction is instantaneous and unsettling. Goose bumps dance on my neck and arms, and when I swirl around and meet his eyes, there is this weird jumble in my stomach again.

  "Yes. I see you found the right line today," I say.

  "I'm a fast learner," he declares proudly.

  "So we've heard in Trig," Hazel interjects.

  I can't help looking at his split lip and black eye, but I can't say anything with Hazel around. We get our food in silence, and then Hazel says, "I'll eat inside today. I need to finish my Physics homework."

  "You finished it this morning before Trig," I say dumbfounded.

  "I want to go over it again. I think I got one wrong."

  "We'll stay inside, too—”

  "Nonsense," Hazel says. "You two go up and soak in a bit of sun. I'll see you later."

  Only when Damon and I are already on the roof does it occur to me that Hazel might have wanted to stay inside on purpose, so Damon and I could be alone.

  "How was your movie marathon?"

  "Great." I’m surprised and pleased he remembers my plans for the weekend. We eat in silence, and when he swallows the last bite and leans on his back, I finally pick up my courage and say, "You promised not to get into trouble with your dad."

  "I didn't."

  "This is how you look when you don't get in trouble with him?"