“Your words.”
“Your interpretation.”
“Was it?”
I stare at his eyes mesmerized. “Are there any other options?”
He looks down at me with a straight face. “Is everything that black and white with you?”
I suddenly feel uncomfortable and I’m glad when he stops in front of a small building.
“Third floor, second door on your left,” he announces, suddenly all business.
“Thanks.”
For a few seconds, we look at each other in silence. Once again, just like this weekend, I notice him looking at me with a somber, searching look. He makes no effort to keep the conversation going—he just stares at me like I’m some sort of abstract piece of art that may or may not be worthy of any more of his time.
“I eh…” I point to the building. “I should get going.”
He moves his head. “Yeah, I think that would be wise.” He starts turning around. “I’m Sam, by the way.”
“I’m Laurel.”
His brows go up. “Right. Have fun in art class.”
It’s weeks later when we have an outdoor sports day. It’s actually quite warm for this time of the year. I work best in warm weather. Still, there is a certain disadvantage with warm weather: I have to wear long sleeves because of my deformed arm. I always have to take precautions to keep the hideous scar hidden from the outside world.
I walk through the gym with Ava and a couple of other girls to gather some equipment for softball.
“Over there,” one of the girls whispers. “Hot shirtless guys with tattoos.”
I turn my head to see a group of boys surrounding a mat, and I watch two other guys holding each other in a headlock. I recognize one of them from the restaurant. His head has been shaved almost bald, and he is completely covered in tattoos. Suddenly, my heart is doing somersaults in my chest. It has been weeks since he helped me get to my class, and I haven’t seen him since. Holy smokes.
He has an unusually athletic build, and I am secretly looking at his muscular—tattooless—upper body glistening with sweat. He is wearing dark sweatpants that are hanging loosely around his narrow hips. Everything about him seems to be in just the right place.
I hear chuckling. “Forget it, totally unapproachable,” Ava remarks.
Feeling busted, I look away. “I was just checking out their technique.”
“Keep it that way, because unless you can sing or wrestle, you are in for heartbreak. Something is seriously wrong with that pool of testosterone. Just ask your stepsister.”
“What about Renee?” I had almost forgotten that Ava is on top of any and all gossip that takes place within school walls. I’m hoping to pump her for more information.
“See that guy with the crazy curls?”
I look over and see the guy that almost had a steak with mushroom sauce served in his face. He lifts up Sam and slams him to the ground. A hoarse groan comes our way, and for a second I’m in another world. I have to suppress a groan myself.
“Yeah, sure,” Ava says while rolling her eyes, “you are amazing in bed. We know.”
Her comment takes me by surprise, and a hot flush goes straight to my cheeks.
“Okay, so that guy with the broad shoulders is Don Philips. He dumped Renee like a real jerk.”
Don looks up and I quickly look away.
“Renee was dumped?” I whisper. “Are you sure?” I just can’t imagine. Renee dumps boys, not the other way around. At least, that was my assumption, although really, her love life is a total mystery to me.
“You didn’t know?”
“Ehm, no. We are still kind of working on our relationship.”
“But you do know she fell off that horse, right?”
I nod and bite my lip. “When the lightning struck. She broke a vertebra.”
“It was Don’s horse. His parents own a horse-breeding ranch. Anyway, he ended the relationship immediately.”
I look at Ava in shock. “He abandoned her while she could hardly walk?”
“She didn’t hear from him anymore. At least, that’s the story going around school.”
Could someone really be that cruel? No wonder she didn’t want to serve him that night. I should have thrown food at that wrestling brute instead of at the dog.
“And the Greek god personified, who was just slammed to the floor, is Sam Laurens. You’ll want to stay far away from him too. You wouldn’t be the first one to get your heart broken.”
“Hmm,” I say absentmindedly and look over there again.
In one smooth move, Sam lands on his feet and is staring me straight in the eye. And he continues to stare at me. My breath is stuck in my throat. Almost imperceptibly he moves his head, and I have no idea if it is meant like some kind of greeting. I send him a fleeting smile and try to look ahead of me as nonchalantly as possible.
I trudge as far into the outfield as I can and claim a spot for myself, where I should be safe from any hardballs from the fanatics from the other team.
I think about Sam. Is he really as unapproachable as Ava claims he is? If so, why did he go through the trouble of walking me to class? Not that it means anything, but still, he could have just pointed me in the right direction.
“Hey, you… watch it!” a girl calls in front of me. She gestures at me agitatedly. “It’s yours.”
Quasi-intelligently, I try to choose a position. Even so, I am still startled when the ball almost hits me and shoots past me.
“Sorry,” I say apologetically. “I’ll get it next time.”
“Yeah, right. Go get it yourself.”
“It’s just a stupid game,” I grunt inaudibly and start to run. People in the dugout are clapping and shouting.
I stop at a small brick building. I put my hands on my hips and look around me confused. Where is that stupid ball?
“Looking for this?”
I whirl around and look at the two guys standing at the building, holding the ball. Sam has changed from sweatpants into jeans and a simple gray shirt. His hair is damp as though he just got out of the shower, which he probably did. All kinds of alarm bells go off in my head.
Stay far away.
Get the ball and get out of there.
Out of breath, I walk over.
“Problems defending?” Sam wants to know.
“I’m just as good at that as I am at reading maps,” I say snidely, holding out my hand to take the ball from him.
“If you adjust your position in the field, you’ll do better.”
“Don’t mind him,” says the brute next to him, whom I’d like to call a douchebag and a few other things if he weren’t strong enough to snap me like a twig. I look at him briefly. The wrestling match I just witnessed may have been a little rough, but he does have a friendly face. It definitely isn’t the face of somebody that would hurt a girl on purpose, but what do I know? I could hardly be considered an expert, having had only half a boyfriend and all.
“Sam always thinks he knows better.”
I don’t know how to respond to him now that I know what he has done to my stepsister.
His smile disappears and he looks at his friend. “Are you ready?”
“Go ahead,” Sam says without looking away from me, “I’ll be right there.”
“There is a team out there that would like to keep playing. Could we get the ball back, maybe?” I ask, feeling ill at ease.
“Sure.” He takes a step back and throws the ball over the building with an overhand throw. A few seconds later, there is loud yelling, as though that one throw decided the game.
I look at him bewildered. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Bashfully, I look at the ground and clear my throat. “How is your back?”
“My back?”
�
�I, eh, I saw how you fell. In the gym.” I think about his deep groan and I feel myself turning red. I don’t know why I’m bringing this up. It must be nerves.
“Ah, you saw that?” His expression indicates something in between embarrassment and shame. “I lost focus for a second. Not the smartest thing to do when you’re on the mat with Don. You’ve seen him.”
“He does look impressive,” I agree. And he is an uncivilized jerk, I add in my mind. Sam raises his brows briefly, but remains silent. The atmosphere seems to change and an awkward silence follows. “Well, I…”
“Laurel,” he says almost at the same time. “You’ve thrown food at my dog, I make sure you don’t get lost and now I am catching balls for you… We have to stop meeting like this.”
“Wolf.”
“Wolf?”
“You just said I threw food at you dog, you probably mean wolf.”
For a brief moment, he stares at the ground and runs a hand through his hair—hair that just touches his shoulders. With his head cocked, he looks down at me and smiles a smile so shy that it is almost seductive.
“You know the old pier?”
Dumbfounded, I look at him. Is he trying to ask me out? “Yes.”
“There’s live music at the harbor tomorrow night. Maybe we can meet under normal circumstances.”
Even though my insides are jumping up and down, clapping and shouting yes, I don’t want to sound too eager. “I have volunteer work tomorrow.”
“At night?”
“I help at the homeless shelter. At dinner.”
“What time do they eat?”
“Around seven.”
“How about nine then?”
He keeps his gaze on me without blinking even once. It sends a chill down my back. In a good way—even though it’s making me feel a little awkward.
“Maybe. I don’t know if…” I sigh and throw in the towel. “Where exactly?”
“I’ll find you,” is all he says.
I nod and turn around. I really need to get back to the field. They’ll be sending out the bloodhounds if I stay away any longer.
“Hey, Laurel, if it’s a fly ball, try to get under it and catch it above your head. That way you won’t lose sight of the ball. Looking away is much more dangerous. Even if it is just a stupid game. I agree.”
He gives me a short nod, and confused I stumble back to the field where I am welcomed as a true heroine.
I start to giggle. In the course of a few minutes, I have not only managed to snatch a point from the other team in spite of myself, I have also learned some ball skills and I have scored a date with a gorgeous guy. Not bad for a day’s work.
“Great throw!” says the girl that only minutes ago wanted to ship me back to Holland. She gives me a high five. “That ended up exactly in the right hands, lucky girl,” she says excitedly.
Completely stunned, I reclaim my position. “That is great,” I mumble.
4
laurel
I dump a scoop of mashed potatoes alongside the coleslaw and add a slice of meat.
“Enjoy your meal, Lou,” I say to the man with the white beard.
“Thank you. So, does a girl your age have nothing better to do than hang around with a bunch of grumpy homeless people?”
I look at the furrowed face in front of me. After all this time, I have come to see him as a good-natured grandfather. I already have a stepsister and stepmother, so a borrowed grandfather doesn’t seem so far-fetched.
“Now that you mention it, I do actually,” I tease, “but I need the credits in order to get my high school diploma.”
Lou chuckles.
“Hey, Lou, you’re holding up the line. Move on! That girl doesn’t need your lectures,” someone calls out from the queue.
After everyone has been served, I suddenly get the jitters. I glance at the clock. Almost nine. I look at Jules stacking the empty bins.
“Jules, do you mind if I go? I have a date, sort of.”
“Of course I don’t mind. Why didn’t you say so, sweetie?”
I shrug. “Until now, I wasn’t sure if I would go.”
Jules shakes her head. “Teenagers… I’ll probably never really understand them.”
“Are you okay serving the coffee by yourself?”
“By myself? They better help me, or else they’ll have to wait a little longer.” I hesitantly stay where I am. “Lou may be intrusive, but he’s right. Chop-chop, off you go. Don’t let that boyfriend of yours wait too long.”
I walk to the kitchen to grab my bag. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“And he won’t become one either, as long as you keep hanging around here.”
“On my way! Thanks, Jules.”
I quickly wave to Lou who has already found a new victim to pepper with burning questions.
After a short bike ride, I arrive at our excessively ornamental house with its eaves and stairs all over the place. It is a particular style, and some call it elegant. Mia likes to tell her guests it’s eclectic—as if anyone understands what that means.
I place my bag on the piano bench in the hallway and walk up to the mirror to see how I look: bleached jeans, scuffed boots and a boring striped shirt with a blazer. Nothing I would pick for a first date. Is this even really a date? There’s no longer any trace of lipstick on my lips.
I glance over my shoulder and realize that I’m already way too late. There is no time for changing and putting on makeup. I roll up the sleeves of my blazer and redo the braid in my hair. Meanwhile, I wonder how long a boy will actually wait for a girl before he figures that he has been stood up. I have no clue, but I do know that if I don’t get going, I’ll have screwed up a date with a gorgeous and not to mention standoffish guy.
I run over to the restaurant.
“Dad, I’m meeting someone from school at the harbor. There’s live music.”
“Okay, honey. Have fun!”
I run along the pebbled beach to the pier.
With every step I take, I’m getting more nervous, and I begin to regret not having left earlier. It’s like I just couldn’t believe that this is an actual date. It happened in such a strange way, him saying that he would find me…
When the pier appears, I am shocked. It’s crammed with people and bits and pieces of music are coming my way. How on earth will he find me in this crowd? I scale the rocks and look around desperately—and try to contain my disappointment when I realize that this will never work.
Then I remember that Ava and some of the others were also planning to go see the local bands. I rummage for my phone in the pocket of my blazer and quickly write a message while my eardrums defend themselves with all their might against a shrill guitar.
I’m here too. Where are you guys? 21.34
Ava replies promptly.
In front! Chaos on stage!! 21.34
I look up and in the square I see a tent with a raised stage. A boyband is playing, and the music sounds rough. The crowd in front is going wild. What does Ava mean, chaos?
With a deep sigh, I throw myself into the crowd, using my elbows and shoulders to move forward. It’s one step forward and three steps back. Again, the guitar makes my hair stand on end, and not in a very pleasant way. Tonight I’ll definitively be going to sleep with an annoying ringing in my ears.
Someone grabs my arm, and suddenly I stare into Charles’ surprised face. One way or another, I manage to reach the bandstand.
“Harper.” His eyes twinkle.
“Hi, Charles,” I reply.
“What are you doing here? I thought you would be warming your hands in front of the stove with all the bums by now?”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to come along just once,” I yell in his ear.
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
I shake my head and look at Ava. Ma
ude is standing next to her, swaying her hips like a first class rock chick and whipping her loose hair wildly from one side to the other.
“I’m so happy you decided to come after all,” Ava yells. “It’s super fun here.”
“Super crowded,” I correct her.
The music stops, and yelling and whistling breaks out all around me. It’s a relief to my tortured ears, even if it’s only for a few seconds. “What did you mean, chaos?”
Ava wrinkles her brow and then bursts out laughing. “That’s what the band is called.”
“Oh, I see. Is it popular?”
“Pretty much.”
I look up and choke when I see the guitarist with the faded jeans, black high-tops, and ragged shirt, which is worn threadbare. His hair is mostly hidden under a woolen beanie. I have found my date for tonight—although it takes a second look for me to recognize the smooth athlete from earlier in this unshaven musician. The guy who is just now starting the intro to another song could easily fit in among the homeless I had just served dinner. Behind the drums, I spot Renee’s old flame, who is taking his deep-rooted frustrations out on the poor drums and cymbals.
“Those are the guys from school?” I ask bewildered.
“Yep. Besides wrestling they play in a rock band.”
“Nice, huh?” Maude screams in my ear.
I shrug and yell to be heard over the decibels. “I’m not a big fan of hard rock.”
“I was talking about the band members, actually.”
In my other ear Ava begins to shout. “Is he watching you?”
Naturally I look up and notice that Sam really is looking at me. I don’t need a mirror to know that I’m turning red because of the direct eye contact.
“Oh my God,” Ava shouts, “you guys are flirting!”
I send her an irritated sideways glance to shut her up.
Maude is thrusting her hips against mine, but I feel too embarrassed to dance and just stay standing still. Sweaty bodies are pushing against me.
“I’m going to get us a drink,” I say after a short while. I shuffle to the nearest shop to order five Coke. While I wait for the drinks, I glance back to the same musician, now focused on his guitar solo. He looks like he’s in a trance. I wonder if I should tell Maude and Ava about my date with the grungy figure on stage. I haven’t gotten around to tell them about our rendezvous on the sports field. I decide to keep it to myself, because it’s obvious that this is not really the date that I had hoped for. Clearly, Sam was just looking for people to come watch his band.
House of Guardians Page 3
