The Law Office of Lucas T. Castor is where you go when you need to fight for your freedom. Because he’s Portland’s most in-demand defense attorney, he’s busy and home stuff gets put on the back burners. That means Luke is only now hearing about today’s fight on the field.
“You have no respect for authority,” Lucas scolds. His cheeks are tinted red and his jaw is tense.
Thomas rolls his eyes.
“If it happens again, I’ll pull you off that fucking—excuse my language, Bliss—I’ll pull you off that fucking baseball team, Thomas. We don’t have to let you play.”
Tommy fixes her lipstick in the visor’s mirror as her husband and first born bicker. Uninterested, Rebecka passes me one of her earbuds so I can listen to music with her. I lean in and put it in my ear but stay zeroed in on father and son.
“You can’t stop me from playing,” Thomas replies, winking at me. He’s doing it on purpose. He likes to get under their skin.
The hotshot attorney can’t control his thirteen-year-old child. Go figure.
“I swear to fucking—” Lucas stops, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, sweet girl,” he apologizes again.
I wave him off.
I’m used to this cussing too—it’s a Castor thing.
I smile and point to the bud in my ear. “I can hardly hear you,” I say loudly, pretending to speak over the music.
The power struggle continues until the car parks at the beach. Like a switch, game faces are on; Luke and Tommy smile, lit up and beaming pride and prosperity.
“Pathetic, right?” Thomas whispers into my ear. He walks past me before I can reply, heading toward Petey and Ben. They wave. I wave back.
Becka’s skateboard hits the pavement, and I follow behind her while she rides, happy to be out in the late February air. The ocean is relatively new to me, and nothing compares to the sound of the waves and the scent of the salt in the breeze. We didn’t have this in Nevada.
The Yaquina Head Lighthouse is illuminated by huge spotlights presented to focus on the ancient structure. Area lamps brighten the sidewalks and a small portion of the beach. Caterers and a few dessert booths are open for business alongside the parking lot. There are arts and crafts for the kids and information tents about Newport and the lighthouse for everyone donating to the restoration fund.
Becka loses her mind at the snack bar, ordering a large bag of kettle corn, a hot dog, and Red Hots. By the end of her dad’s speech about the importance of the lighthouse to both the city of Newport and the state of Oregon, his daughter’s finishing off her third cocoa.
“Did you see the dollar signs in his eyes?” Rebecka scoffs, letting the chocolate from the bottom of her cup drip onto her tongue.
She has a cocoa mustache I wipe it away with my thumbs, only to have her grab my hand and lick off the last of her drink. “You’re insane, you know that?” I laugh.
“Hal!” Becka shouts over my shoulder, spotting Smitty. She has her not-really-boyfriend buy her another hot chocolate.
Sugar high and flirty, Rebecka chases Smitty down the beach shore while Oliver and I sit in the sand. The icy breeze coming off the water sends a chill through my entire body and I tremble.
“Are you cold?” Oliver pulls off his black hoodie and passes it to me. “I’m not cold. It’s okay,” he promises.
I slip my arms though soft cotton, and when my head pops out of the hole, I moan. Oliver laughs, but I sigh and sink into his lingering warmth.
He looks at me with gentle brown eyes. “My mom says I’ve always been warm-blooded.”
I think it’s supposed to be a joke, but he’s sweet and simple. The sincerity of his face slays the small pun as fact, and I think his mom is right, because his hoodie is toasty warm. But that could also be because I’m abnormally frosty.
My best friend and Smitty have taken their wrestling match right near the water, literally rolling around in the sand. When she gets some in her eyes, she screams. Hal looks terrified, and I rush to help.
“Rebecka, stop blinking,” I order, prying open her fluttering, sand-filled eye.
“I can’t help it!” she shrieks, overreacting.
“Stay here.” I let her go. “I’ll get a bottle of water so we can flush it out.”
I leave Smitty and Oliver looking at Becka like she’s a wild person as I scoop my shoes from the sand and jog barefoot up the beach. The cold sand sinks beneath my toes, and my breath turns white in front of my face as I exhale. When I reach the sidewalk, I pour out my shoes and slip them back onto my feet, considering buying Becka a fifth hot chocolate because I know it’ll make her feel better.
But I hear my name.
I know it’s Thomas even though I can’t see him.
Standing under the orange glow from the streetlamp, I look around. Everything is pitch black, besides the parking lot and the marina.
Then he’s under the same orange lights as me.
“Hey, princess,” he says. His voice is lazy and slightly slurred. He comes a little closer, scoping out Oliver’s hoodie. “Whose is that?”
Before I can answer, Petey and Ben come stumbling out from behind the marina, and something is definitely off with all three of them.
The boys flip and tug on my hair and hug me too close. Petey picks me up and spins me around. He smells funny, but then again, that’s Petey. Thomas stands back with a curious grin on his face. His hands are in his pockets and his hair’s a lot messier than it was when he first got here. As if reading my mind, he pushes his fingers through it, showing me how it got to be in such disarray.
When I’m able to push Petey and Ben away, I straighten out my hoodie and fix my hair. “What the heck is wrong with you guys?”
“Come with us, Bliss,” Thomas says.
Pete looks at Thomas like he’s misplaced his mind; Thomas looks at me like Pete doesn’t exist.
“It’s time to pop your princess-pink bubble.” Dusty eyes Oliver’s hoodie again. “Obviously.”
I nervously laugh, crossing my arms over my shoulders. “What does that mean?”
Thomas is right in front of me. The scent from Petey is stronger on him: roasted marshmallows, summertime, and cake, dark rain and wet grass. He smells sweet, but wrong.
Thomas smells unlawful.
“It means that everything isn’t cut and dry.” He smirks again, close to my face. He’s looking at my lips, my nose, and my eyes. “I want you to come out for a little while. We don’t pull wings off butterflies. I swear.”
“Why are your eyes red?” I lean into him, placing my nose right above the collar of his flannel. I close my eyes and inhale. “What’s that smell on you?”
“A little pot,” he answers with his lips right above my ear. I breathe in, meeting his eyes. They capture and impound. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. “Come hang with me, Bliss,” he whispers, moving a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“Little sister better not snitch.” I can feel Petey’s dirty look without actually looking at him.
Thomas licks his bottom lip and shakes his head, finally turning away from me. “She’s not going to tell.”
As Ben, Thomas, and Petey walk out from under the orange-lit light, though I know better, I follow. The closer we get to the backside of the marina, the same smell on Dusty’s clothes and skin is harsher in the air. It burns my eyes.
Thomas stops, waiting for me to reach him, and it isn’t until now that I realize how separated and away he is. He won’t look at me, and when I do catch his eyes, he’s absent.
“Bliss,” Thomas says. He’s looking everywhere but at me. “You can’t say anything to my parents about this, okay?”
I shove my hands deeper into Oliver’s hoodie pockets, wondering if it was a bad idea that I left Rebecka behind.
Between our silences, further down the alleyway behind the marina, I hear a girl’s laughter and recognize it immediately as Kelly’s. A cloud of white smoke floats above a group of people who glow under a bright white sec
urity light attached to the blue stucco building.
If my parents knew I was here, I’d be in major trouble.
“I won’t,” I say.
As soon as we approach his friends, I notice her right away.
Thomas doesn’t introduce us or acknowledge her presence. He doesn’t have to. I’ve never seen her before, but it takes only one look at the beautiful brunette smoking a cigarette to know she is Valarie.
I pull on Thomas’ sleeve, but he’s messing around with Ben. Every move they make is sluggish and exaggerated. At their side, Petey has his hands deep in his pockets, and he’s looking around like something might jump out of the dark and get him. Kelly and Katie won’t stop giggling, and between their laughter and Pete’s paranoia, all of this seems stupid to me.
These people are crazy.
“I’m going to go find Rebecka.” I take a few steps back, about to make a run for it.
“Wait up.” Thomas jogs after me. “I’m sorry, are we dumb?”
“Why are you high?” I ask, stopping until he gets a little closer.
“I don’t know,” he says, brushing a hand through his dark-blonde hair. “We were bored.”
“Have you done this before?”
He shrugs. “A couple of times.”
“Is that Valarie?” I nod toward the brunette leaning against the wall.
Thomas smirks. “Yeah, are you jealous?”
I blush hard, super cherry red with glitter-hard. “No!” I say too loudly.
Thomas points at me. “Leighlee Bliss is jealous. Do you love me, Bliss?” he teases.
Embarrassment burns me from the inside out, and I feel the heat from my cheeks spread down to my chest. “I don’t love you. You’re a brother. You smell like baseball sweat and dirty play clothes.”
He lifts his flannel to his nose and sniffs. “No, I don’t.” He looks at me. “Leigh, I don’t smell like dirty clothes.” He’s so, so serious. Too serious.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, come smell me. I’m serious, Bliss. Come smell me!”
I run and he chases. Cold, salty air clears my sinuses and quick movement thaws chilled joints and muscles. My laughter floats well above the giggling idiots down the backstreet, and humiliation fades into playful joy.
He going to catch me, and when he does, my best friend’s brother holds me close and forces me to smell his shirt.
It’s vanilla and pot and nighttime and meadows and smoke and Thomas … just Thomas.
“You smell like trouble,” I finally say, telling the absolute truth.
Thomas, a foot taller than me, looks down at my lips through bloodshot eyes and heavy eyelids. He reaches for my hair over my left shoulder and circles a curl around his finger. “Let’s go back.”
We do, and no one but Valarie seemed to notice we were gone. She approaches us with another lit cigarette between her right pointer and middle fingers. This girl is obviously too young to smoke, but it makes her look cool.
She’s a lot like Thomas that way.
“Hey, little sister,” she says, blowing nicotine smoke over her shoulder. “I’m Val. Petey told me who you are.”
I look over at Thomas and he’s dazed, still sniffing his clothes and smiling at me.
“I’m Leigh.”
“Bliss,” Thomas corrects. “I like Bliss better.”
“Leigh,” I say to Valarie. I only like my family and friends to call me Bliss, and this girl is neither.
Valarie’s smile is easy and her eyes are an arresting green—completely exhilarating. Her skin looks naturally tan, and her dark brown hair is long, slightly curled, and loose past her elbows. But it’s her self-confidence that makes her striking. She holds her shoulders back and her head is high. She knows she’s beautiful, but she doesn’t come off as arrogant like Kelly and Katie. Valarie seems forthcoming and accepting.
It’s thirty degrees out but she’s wearing a short jean skirt and an unfastened flannel. Her Chucks are kind of dirty and she has two silver chains around her left ankle. Her nails are painted a dark purple, chipped and bitten, and she smells like smoke and lily flowers.
Her lips are big and her boobs are big, and I want to hate her, but I can’t seem to.
“How about I call you little sister?” She reaches forward and touches one of my curls. “I wish I had hair like you. You’re pretty.”
I beam, absorbing her affection like sunlight. “Thanks.”
She asks a few questions about my relationship with the Castors, and I ask her about her family. I learn she moved here two weeks ago from California when her parents finalized their divorce. She and her mom live with her aunt in Newport.
She lights another cigarette. “Do you want one?”
I shake my head.
“My dad is such a dick,” she says with the end of it between her lips. The fire from a lighter—Thomas’ lighter—brightens her face before she puts it out and sticks it back into her pocket. “He found a new family, and suddenly his old one wasn’t good enough anymore.” She shakes her head, exhaling smoke into the air. “Not like it matters, really. He never paid attention to me. I got a tattoo and my parents didn’t know. Do you want to see it?” She turns around and lifts the back of her shirt. On her lower back is a crimson, jade, and violet butterfly.
And I want to pull its wings off.
I’m stunned, imagining a life where I could do whatever I want. I’m not allowed to walk around the block by myself, let alone be gone long enough to get a tattoo behind my parents’ back. My mom still tucks me in at night, but something tells me that Valarie doesn’t get that from her mom, and it’s sad. She’s too hard for her young age.
I’m surprisingly interested in Valarie’s stories. I have a feeling she has a lot of history and a lot of baggage, but when we hear skateboard wheels and a little voice shouts “Leighlee Bliss!” neither one of us make another move.
At the end of the alleyway are three shadows: Rebecka, Oliver, and Smitty.
Thomas squints, and Petey squeezes Thomas’ shoulder, whispering something in his ear. And then I see what they see: B and Smitty are holding hands.
“Bliss, are you down there?” Rebecka screams.
I laugh, because come on, she’s screaming.
Thomas pushes Petey off of his arm and walks in his sister’s direction. Valarie watches his every step with a silly grin on her face, like the drama that’s about to unfold all over Smitty is exciting to her. It’s probably all she knows.
It’s simple to move away from her. I wave my hand in the air and speed walk past Thomas. He calls my name, but I keep walking.
“I’m right here,” I shout to Becka.
“Gosh,” she exaggerates. “I was looking all over for you. My eye could have fallen out by now, Leigh.”
I stick myself between Smitty and Becka and hope for the best. Thomas is aware of his sister’s not-really-a-relationship relationship, but he doesn’t seem too keen on the idea of her holding hands with the super cute and quiet shy boy.
“Let’s go,” I suggest.
“What? No. What are you doing?” She sniffs Oliver’s hoodie. “You smell like smoke.”
But it’s too late to explain anything because Thomas is here and he’s in Becka’s personal space, pushing her away from Smitty. Petey and Ben aren’t too far behind, so while Thomas mumbles ruthlessly in Rebecka’s face, I push Ben toward her brother and tell him to do something.
Smitty remains quiet, and Oliver looks confused, but it’s easy to tell they both feel uncomfortable with the grip Thomas has on Becka’s wrist. She’s tough, but she’s still a girl. When she whimpers and asks him to let go, Smitty shifts like he’s about to intervene.
I place a shaky hand over Thomas’ grip instead. He immediately softens and loosens. His face remains hard and unwavering, but he lets up.
“What the hell, Thomas.” Rebecka pulls her arm away.
Thomas breathes out of his nose, more upset than I’ve ever seen him before. He looks pitiless with his
cut lip and bloodshot eyes. His jaw’s tense and his fists are clenched. “Go find Mom and Dad, Rebecka.”
“What’s wrong with you? I was only looking for Leigh.” B sounds like she’s about to cry, and she never cries. Ever.
“Maybe you guys should chill out,” Valarie says out of nowhere. I didn’t know she was close by.
Rebecka faces her. “Who the fuck are you?”
Everyone laughs and Petey, kindly—in an obnoxious way—advises Valarie to never mess around with little sisters. “If you’re smart, you’ll shut up, Val.”
She listens.
Thomas turns toward Smitty and sneers. “Keep your hands off of my sister.”
Rebecka goes off, but Smitty keeps his cool. He smiles a little and sticks his hands passively into his pockets.
Thomas and I are in the middle of this circle of keyed up boys and girls. Emotions run high and my hands shake. I don’t understand what’s happening, or why Thomas became so mad so fast, but it’s exhausting. I feel small compared to these people who act older.
I keep hold of Thomas’ wrist, if only to keep myself still. He doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care. He and his sister argue back and forth while Petey and Ben instigate and Valarie and Kelly gossip, bored with the squabbling siblings.
“Can we go?” I ask, interrupting.
“Yeah, go.” Thomas pulls his wrist from my hold. “I’ll meet you guys by the car.”
Becka and I are halfway down the boardwalk with Oliver and Smitty when Thomas, Petey, and Ben suddenly show up again. Thomas pushes himself between his sister and me, putting his arm over my shoulders. Petey takes Rebecka by her hips and rolls her forward while she screams excitedly.
She loves to be pushed, and Petey is always pushing her.
“Say bye to your friends, Bliss.” Thomas turns us around. Oliver and Smitty don’t look too happy. As we walk backwards, I wave goodbye.
“Wait,” I say, stopping our walk. “I have Oliver’s hoodie.” I pull my arms out of the sleeves and Thomas pulls the sweater over my head throwing it at Oliver’s chest. I mouth an apology as Thomas tucks me back under his arm. He flips Oliver the bird and turns us back around.
Innocents Page 5
