Curveball (Barlow Sisters Book 1)

by Jordan Ford

  “You know, maybe that’s a sign.” She reaches for her boots.

  I snatch a tissue out of the box. “What’s a sign?”

  “The fact that you’re all gooey over Holden. The fact that you couldn’t resist kissing him.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s more of a sign that I’m a weak-minded slut.” I give my nose a sharp blow, aware of how dramatic and self-deprecating I sound.

  Max stops lacing her boots to look me in the eye. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re far too sensible to score a slut title.” Finishing her laces, she moves to my side, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and squeezing me against her. “What I’m saying is that sometimes the heart is trying to tell us something we’re not ready to hear. Just because you ignore it doesn’t mean the feelings are going to go away.”

  Her words ring with a poignant truth that’s painful. “Even if I wanted to listen, I can’t. How can I hurt Chloe this way? It’s not going to happen with Holden. It never can.”

  My sister gives me a sympathetic smile before rising from the bed and grabbing the car keys off our dresser.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out.”

  “Where?”

  Max just grins at me, guilt flickering over her expression as she slips out the door.

  Part of me wants to chase her and demand answers, but I’m not her mother. Meddling in Chloe’s life has only caused trouble. I’m not going to do the same with Max. Although I have to admit how much it hurts that she didn’t just tell me.

  My sisters and I have always been best friends, but since coming to Armitage cracks have started forming between us, and my lack of willpower today turned the first crack into a mile-wide fissure. I don’t know how I’m going to repair it.

  I feel like I’m losing everyone close to me.

  Flopping back on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling while the strains of Chloe’s music reach me.

  She’s moved on to “Basket Case” by Green Day.

  Closing my eyes, I try not to think forward to the evening we’re about to have. Dinner tonight is going to freaking suck. I roll onto my side and curl into a ball, hoping if I wish hard enough that the bed can somehow swallow me and not spit me back out until Chloe’s forgiven me and Holden Carter’s spell on my heart has been broken.

  26

  Justice Is Gonna Get Served

  HOLDEN

  Maddie consumed me last night.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her kiss and the way her body felt melting against mine.

  Her eyes toyed with me, dancing through my brain. The sound of her voice. The agony on her face as she pulled away and chased after her sister.

  That can never happen again.

  It kills me. I don’t want to never kiss her again.

  And it’s not even about the kissing.

  What we shared on the water tower was more. It was deep. Meaningful.

  I want to experience that again.

  But will Maddie ever let me?

  The question tortured me as Luke and I picked up the baseball gear. It was supposed to be a fun experience, but I just wasn’t into it and in the end, Luke told me to get over myself or get lost.

  I tried to perk up, but by the time we reached school again, I just wanted to go home.

  “Get out of here. I’ll find Coach and put the gear away.”

  “But don’t you have to go pick up Lil’ Lex?”

  His kid sister was at a friend’s place because Luke’s mom had the afternoon-evening shift at the only doctor’s surgery in town. It stays open until ten every night of the week and she’s the on-duty nurse for three of them.

  He glanced at his watch and shrugged. “I’ll work fast. It’s okay, man. Seriously, it’s worth being ten minutes late if it means I don’t have to stomach your morose ass for a second longer.”

  I gave him a sideways glare and he just laughed at me while sliding out of his Jeep.

  I helped Luke carry the gear across to the sports shed, then dumped it at his feet and offered to go find Coach so he could stay with the gear.

  “No, Coach will be here in a sec. You go before I have to kick your butt.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! Go sleep it off or whatever the hell you have to do. Heck, swing past cougar town. That’ll solve your problems.”

  I forced a chuckle and murmured that I might before taking off for home.

  Mom was up when I walked in the door, but she was absorbed in some TV drama and seemed lucid enough to make it to bed on her own.

  I left her to it, made myself a peanut butter sandwich, and then went to my room.

  To do my homework and then spend the rest of the night awake and restless.

  Stifling a yawn, I lope up the front steps of school. I still don’t know how to fix this, or what I’m going to say to either Barlow sister when I see them.

  And then there’s Max.

  Surely she can’t be the thief.

  I wish Luke had never planted that thought in my head.

  Turning the corner, I spot Maddie shuffling down the corridor. Her lips are turned down at the corners, her eyes cast to the floor. She doesn’t notice people glancing her way or making room for her to pass. In fact, the only reason we don’t collide is because I speak before she walks into me.

  “Hey,” I greet her softly.

  She jerks, her wide eyes flashing as they connect with mine. “Please don’t.”

  It’s all she can whisper before she spins on her heel and takes off the other way. I want to chase her or call out, but that will only attract attention. Instead I do the only thing I can and wink at the girl walking past me, then paste on a smile for Zane as he comes running over.

  “Hey, man.” Is my voice bright enough? Am I pulling it off?

  “You’re not going to believe me,” he mutters.

  “What?”

  “The new gear you and Luke bought yesterday.” His grim expression makes my stomach drop.

  “Please tell me it’s still in the shed.”

  Zane shakes his head. “I didn’t even get to see it, man. Luke is raging. Coach Keenan is in with the principal now. Apparently when he got to school, the shed had been busted open with a pair of bolt cutters and all the new equipment is gone.”

  “Who the hell is obsessed with taking this gear?” I snap. “No, wait, don’t answer that. We already fucking know.”

  I’m livid, hot blood screaming through my veins as I stalk down the hallway. Screw it being one of the team. Bolt cutters? It’s got to be Vincent. That guy doesn’t know the meaning of the word class. I want to track him down and smash him.

  It’s got to be him.

  It has to!

  I refuse to believe that Max Barlow would steal our new gear…twice!

  Unless Roman’s somehow working her. Maybe he’s got connections out of town that can take and re-sell the gear somewhere else.

  No! Shit! That’s not an option.

  It’s Vincent.

  His locker is down the next corridor. I’m tempted to rally the guys and go do some damage. Or we could check his crap-heap car. It’s a rusty blue Camaro that’s like a hundred years old. I bet if we searched it we’d find what we were looking for.

  I meet Luke around the next corner. His blue eyes spark with anger.

  “This sucks,” he grits out between clenched teeth, and we share a look. He’s wondering if his Max theory is right, but I shake my head.

  “It’s got to be Vincent,” I murmur before we can jump to the wrong conclusion.

  Luke’s eye dip to the floor and whether he believes it or not, he backs me up. “He must have been watching Coach and me store it or something. But there was no one around when we left. I didn’t see his car or anything.”

  “He’s a sneaky asshole. That’s why he still hasn’t been caught. And he probably won’t get caught this time, either.”

  “Have you told Coach you suspect him?” Zane asks.

  “Of course I did. The guy q
uestioned me for like half an hour this morning.”

  I frown, hating the fact that Coach would think for a second that Luke was to blame. “But he was there with you.”

  “Yeah, but then he got a call from his wife because their washing machine was flooding and I told him I could finish up on my own.”

  “Shit, you should have called me, man.”

  “That’s okay.” Luke’s shoulder hitches. “I’m the one who locked up, so I’m responsible. I offered to let them search my car, my locker, anything they needed to. I’m not guilty. I don’t have anything to hide.” He looks me right in the eye before his eyebrows dip into a sharp frown. “Then I told them they should probably take a look in Vincent’s locker. He’s the one with the history of stealing.”

  “Do you think they will?”

  “I don’t know.” Luke shrugs. “It’s not like he’d be dumb enough to leave evidence in his locker.”

  “That’s true,” Zane mutters. “But he might have some other shit in his locker. I don’t care what the hell he gets busted for. I just want him to go down.”

  Luke snickers, but the sound is cut short as he spots something over my shoulder.

  I spin around to see what’s coming.

  Principal Sheehan and Coach Keenan.

  Their expressions are grim yet determined as they storm past us and head for…Vincent’s locker?

  No way.

  I share a triumphant smirk with Luke before rushing after them, wondering if justice is about to be served.

  Please let it be served. Let it be him.

  Ripples whisper through the crowd as the students nearby suddenly find an excuse not to hurry away.

  Vincent’s standing by his locker, unzipping his bag, when Principal Sheehan approaches him.

  “Mr. Mancini. Something you want to show us, son?”

  He frowns at the principal, looking confused. “What?”

  Oh, the guy is good.

  “Open your locker for me, please.”

  Vincent stands tall, his beat-up leather jacket bunching around his shoulders as he crosses his arms. “Why?”

  “We believe you’re hiding something in there.”

  Vincent’s jaw works to the side while my nostrils flare in anger. How can he stand there looking so arrogant?

  “Son, don’t make this harder than it has to be. If you’ve got nothing to hide, then showing us what’s in your locker shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Vincent rolls his eyes and reluctantly reaches for his padlock.

  I hold my breath while he dials the combination, glancing down at Luke and then getting distracted by the sight of Max and Chloe hovering nearby.

  Chloe looks my way but then quickly stares back down the hallway like our eyes haven’t just connected.

  Her lips are turned down the same way Maddie’s were this morning.

  Shit, I really hate this.

  “What the fuck!” Vincent’s shout grabs my attention and I quickly look back to see Principal Sheehan pulling a brand new baseball mitt out of his locker. “That’s bullshit. I don’t even play.”

  “Then why do you have a brand new mitt in your locker?” Coach Keenan’s fuming. He snatches the mitt and holds it up, looking down the hall to catch Luke’s eye.

  “This is one of the ones we stored last night, right?”

  “Yes, sir.” His voice rings above the silence.

  Vincent’s eyes narrow into angry slits so I inch a little closer to my best friend, crossing my arms and standing tall. It makes me kind of nervous but I stare Vincent down, letting him know I’m not afraid to defend my friends if I have to.

  “Where’s the rest of the stuff, Vincent?” Principal Sheehan grabs his attention.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t take it.” Vincent’s eyes flash, his infamous anger starting to brew.

  “And what do we have here?” Coach Keenan pulls something out of the mitt, holding up a little plastic bag of white pills and jiggling it in the air. “Drugs. Well, you certainly have some explaining to do.”

  “That’s not mine!”

  “I think you better come with us,” Principal Sheehan’s command is calm yet firm.

  “I didn’t do this!” Vincent points at the mitt. “I couldn’t give a shit about baseball! And that looks like Xanax or something. I don’t touch that shit!”

  “This gear is worth a lot of money.” Coach Keenan holds up the mitt, his voice quickly rising to a shout. “And you took it to sell and then use the money for yourself to…to buy drugs…or…or traffic them. Are you using sports gear to smuggle drugs in this school?”

  “That’s bullshit!” Vincent punches his locker door shut. The sound travels down the corridor, silencing everyone.

  All eyes are already glued to the scene, and I swear everyone around me is holding their breath.

  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Coach Keenan reaches for Vincent’s arm, but the junior moves like lightning, pushing the coach away from him.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Vincent!” Principal Sheehan points at him. “I will call the police if I have to!”

  Vincent slams his teeth together, breaths spurting out his nose as he glares at the principal. His eyes are dark with rage but the principal doesn’t back down. “Now, I’m not going to touch you. But you will follow me to my office where I can hear your side of the story.”

  Vincent gives him a cynical laugh as if it’s some big joke, then brushes between the two men and heads in the direction of the main office.

  I step aside to let him pass, glaring at him the whole time. He meets my stare for a second before dropping his gaze to the floor, not bothering to look at anyone else.

  “What an asshole,” Kingston mutters. “The principal is being way too accommodating in my opinion. If it were me, I’d be shipping his ass off to jail right now. He can go hang out with his murdering brother for a while.”

  “Whatever, man.” Zane slaps his shoulder. “Justice is gonna get served today.”

  “I don’t think he did it,” Max pipes up behind us.

  We all spin and give her this incredulous look before Zane smiles and lightly punches her arm. “You don’t know the Mancinis, new girl.”

  “She’s not saying that because we don’t know them.” Chloe steps up, hugging the binder to her chest. “She’s saying that because of the way Vincent reacted when he first opened his locker. He had no idea the mitt was in there.”

  “Yeah, well, he must have forgotten he’d left it in there when he was stealing everything else last night.” Luke swipes a finger under his nose. “The guy got sloppy.”

  “Why would he do that? After being so super stealth with all the other robberies, why screw up now?” Chloe argues, her soft voice taking on a hard edge. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe deep down he wants to get caught.” I shrug. “Maybe he’s sick of living with the guilt.”

  Her blue eyes land on mine. It’s impossible to miss the hurt swirling within her gaze.

  I glance to the floor, knowing how badly I need to apologize for leading her on. Maddie was right. I acted like a jerk. I never should have invited her to the dance or used my Carter charm.

  Vincent may not be innocent, but Chloe is.

  Looking back up, I’m about to ask if I can chat with her in private. The guys will all get the wrong idea, but I can’t care about that right now.

  “Hey, Chl—”

  The bell cuts me off and people split, heading in every direction like a swarm of insects. Chloe spins away and takes off down the hall.

  “Come on, man. We’ve got Stats.” Luke tugs on my jacket.

  I reluctantly trail after him.

  “Well, at least it isn’t Max,” Luke murmurs. It’s a very dim light in what will no doubt be a heinous day.

  I nod in agreement, but can’t shrug off the thought that Vincent did look pretty damn surprised when he pulled open his locker.

  Maybe he was set up.

&nb
sp; But why would Max back up that theory? If she set him up to take the fall, then she should have kept her mouth shut…unless she’s doing that double-psych-out thing where she’s acting like a skeptic to hide the fact that she’s guilty.

  That can’t be right.

  Although the fact that drugs were in the mitt makes me wonder if Roman set Vincent up. Luke did see Max chatting with Roman. Is there something going on between them?

  Is Roman the guilty one?

  Is Max his accomplice?

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. My head is threatening to implode.

  I swear, these Barlow sisters are going to be the death of me.

  27

  Living Together

  MADDIE

  I walk home, my feet slapping against the pavement as I chalk up one more shitty week. It’s been exactly eight days since I kissed Holden.

  Eight days since Chloe has spoken to me.

  Seven days since Vincent was suspended and the school exploded with gossip and speculation over whether he did it or was set up.

  I don’t care either way.

  Like I have brainpower to spare thinking about Vincent. I’m too busy obsessing over Holden…or at least trying not to obsess over Holden, but failing every time. Avoiding him is all I can do, but it’s so damn hard.

  Every time we see each other he looks at me like he’s desperate to talk, but I just can’t go there. I don’t trust myself around him.

  It sucks.

  I’m not enjoying life right now, but I don’t know how to fix it. No matter what happens, someone is going to get hurt. People are already hurt!

  Dad sat me down last night and tried to find out what was going on, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him what I’d done. I’m the mature, responsible one—supposedly. It’s up to me to look after my sisters. He’s always told me that. And I’ve let one of them down.

  In the end I managed to murmur out a story about all of us struggling with school and how the big change is taking some adjustment. That just made Dad go really quiet and sullen. Our conversation kind of ended after that and I was once again left alone to stew.