Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  “Mm-hm.” I sniffled, wiping my cheeks.

  “Honey, you’re seventeen now. You’re too old for this. Just stop being a baby and go back to Mike’s. I’ll come get you first thing in the morning.”

  “No!” I held the phone right in front of my lips to make my voice as clear as the goddamn day. “I am never going back there, Mom. Never. If you don’t come get me, I’ll hitchhike home.”

  “Please, honey, just—”

  “Fine. I’m hanging up,” I said. “I see a car.” I didn’t see a car. “I’m sticking my thumb out, Mom. I’m doing it.”

  “All right. Okay. I’ll come get you. Just… just stay there, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Where are you?”

  “The corner store.”

  “Ronnie’s?” she screeched. “Ara, that’s three blocks away. You can walk that.”

  “I’m scared, Mom. And I’m… I’m wearing heels.”

  It clicked then. I knew it did. I knew she knew the only reason I’d be wearing heels when I was supposed to be at a sleepover would be if I weren’t at a sleepover.

  “Just stay there, Ara-Rose. And by God, child, you are in a world of trouble when we get home.” She hung up.

  I held the phone for another few seconds, resting my head on the glass, feeling the swirl of alcohol mix in my system with fear, making me want to puke. But when I opened my eyes again, daylight flooded my world.

  It took a second for my eyes to adjust—to see the dresser mirror on the other side of the room, the yellow walls, the white door and the new morning greeting me—and I could still feel her; still feel her voice in my ears.

  I smoothed the covers out on top of me and let the proverbial rock on my chest keep me in place, on my back, unable to breathe.

  Downstairs, Dad’s burly laughter rose above the clatter of Vicki making breakfast, arguing about something with Sam.

  But I was okay.

  Slowly, the air came back into my lungs and, breath by breath, the rock lifted, leaving me picturing only one thing: David.

  I jumped out of bed and headed straight for the shower, eager to start the brand new day.

  * * *

  Sam burst back through the front door after being gone only thirty seconds. “Ara, David’s waiting for you across the road.”

  My spoon hit the side of my bowl, splashing milk onto the placemat as I leaped from my chair to peer out the window. David’s head whipped up, his eyes meeting mine for a split second when I pulled the curtain back, as if he could actually see me.

  I grabbed my bag, dumping my bowl in the sink, and ran out the door. In the case of David versus Breakfast, the judge and jury were in; we all knew the verdict.

  Outside, the morning sun cast a spotlight on his perfection. I wanted to stop walking and just stand there gawking at him for a while. But he looked sort of different today than he did yesterday. His mysterious green eyes held the same smile in the corners it usually did, but the depth of focus in them, combined with thinly pressed lips, made him look almost uneasy.

  “Hi, David.”

  He took my backpack and threw it over his shoulder, then started walking without saying a word.

  My eyebrow moved down in confusion. “David?”

  “Mm?” he said, but his eyes didn’t answer like they usually did.

  “Is… everything okay?”

  “Uh, yeah.” He dropped his fingers from the bridge of his nose and looked up, remembering suddenly that I was alive. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “No kidding.” I stared forward, wishing I had pockets to shove my hands in so I wouldn’t chew my nails. “Anything I can help with?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe I can at least listen? You know, lend an ear.”

  “If discussing this problem would solve it, then I would. But it won’t, so there’s little point.”

  So he’d taken a leaf out of my book: swallow the problems and just hope they’d go away on their own.

  After sitting with David in my backyard last night under the setting sun, just two friends holding hands, I’d almost considered telling him what brought me to live here. So many times I even opened my mouth, and after speaking to Mike, I guess I had resolved to ‘let David in’. But this sudden distance, like someone had flicked the ‘reality’ switch, made me think all that magic I felt with him was an influx of hormones and, today, the world was back to its usual cold self.

  I stole a glance at David. He was walking beside me in physical form but with his mind and spirit so far away that his eyes had completely fixed on one spot—narrowed with deep concentration. I wondered if he was trying to start a fire with mind bullets.

  “So… did you… did you get up to anything interesting last night?” I said in a feeble attempt to make conversation.

  “Interesting?” he asked, kind of confused.

  “I just… never mind.” I looked away. And he didn’t mind. Didn’t even bother to engage in small talk.

  At the top of the stairs, Emily and Alana chatted casually, as if they’d been close their whole lives, despite their friendship being only as old as theirs to mine. They didn’t really match as friends. Alana was so plain and almost gothic; she was smart and read books by indie authors, whereas Emily was so colorful; she always looked fresh and happy, or maybe overexcited. I figured she must drink coffee every morning—lots of coffee. Mind you, that never worked for me. But despite originating from different ends of the galaxy, they seemed to fit on exactly the same page. Kind of like I thought David and I did. Except, now I wasn’t so sure. This thing between us was fragile. I could feel it. I wanted to tell myself I was being silly—that his coldness was just an ‘off day’ for him—but I didn’t know him well enough to really believe that yet.

  “Hi, guys.” I waved enthusiastically as we reached the top step.

  “Hey.” Emily smiled.

  “No cheer practice this morning, Em?”

  “Not for me. Had a meeting with the school board.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said. “What for?”

  “Benefit concert.”

  “Cool. So, where’s Ryan?”

  “Right here.” He popped out from behind the glass doors, wearing a wide grin.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He gave me a quick hug, then cupped hands with David, who’d managed to wake up enough to appear social all of a sudden.

  “So, new girl. You made it through your first week, and—” Ryan scratched the back of his neck and looked at Emily.

  “Well, we were thinking,” Emily jumped in. “Would you like to come to Betty’s Cafe tonight to celebrate?”

  “Is that the little fifties-style cafe?” I asked.

  Emily nodded. “Yeah, the one with the pink-and-blue neon sign.”

  “It belongs to Emily’s aunt.” Ryan hooked his thumb in Emily’s direction.

  “Aunt… Betty?” I raised one brow in question.

  “How’d you guess?” Emily laughed, waving a dismissive hand in the air after.

  “Well—” I looked at David, wondering if he’d go. He placed his guitar case on the ground and rested his hands in his back pockets, then ever so subtly winked at me. It was like looking at a different David, as if the one that’d greeted me just a few minutes ago was his evil twin. “Uh, sure, you know what?” I looked back at Emily. “That sounds really great.” The distraction would be a welcome relief from… my life.

  “Okay, it’s settled then.” Emily bounced on the balls of her feet. “So, we’ll carpool?” She looked at Ryan and Alana, then especially at David.

  “Um.” I froze, trying to think of a way to tell them I avoided riding in cars with teenagers. I didn’t want to insult their driving ability or have them make the standard enquiry about why I was so afraid of cars.

  “Actually.” David took a small step forward. “I uh… I was going to ask Ara out tonight.” He looked directly at me then. “So, perhaps I could be your escort?”

  My brow folded in
to a frown. He was going to ask me out? What kind of out? Friends? More than friends? Friends who liked to hold each other’s hands then ignore each other in the morning?

  “Oh, a date. Really?” Emily said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you two had—”

  “We’re just friends,” David said in a very businesslike tone.

  “So you don’t mind sharing her for the night, man?” Ryan asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “Yeah, and um,” I chimed in, looking sideways at him, “really, hanging out with you guys’ll be great.”

  “Okay. So you bring Ara, and I’ll go with Ryan and Alana.” Emily linked her arm through Alana’s.

  Ryan sighed enviously at Emily, subconsciously imitating the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It was so obvious he liked Alana. I wondered why he hadn’t just got with the program and asked her out. I mean, it was obvious the feelings were mutual.

  The routine catch-up at the top of the stairs continued then without my cerebral focus. They were all smiling and talking, but I couldn’t really hear them. My thoughts were off with my troubles somewhere in clueless land. David wasn’t really present, either. He was smiling and talking, but kept looking at me with those narrowed eyes—studying me—probably unaware he was even staring. And all my brain could do was worry that he felt he’d made a mistake talking with me that way last night.

  What else could it possibly be?

  * * *

  David laughed as he caught a scrunched-up bit of paper, then hurled it up the back of the room, where its journey ended on the brow of a gorilla. I slinked down lower in my chair to avoid getting a headache from unfinished English homework. It was bad enough that Mr. B, with his ‘strict designated seating plan’, placed me right up front next to David. Not that I minded the David part, I was just kinda worried I might do something to embarrass myself, like drool all over his notebook or start playing footsies with him under the table.

  “Morning, class.” Mr. Benson walked in, oblivious to the origami air raid going on behind him.

  David turned quickly in his seat, playing the good student.

  “Faker,” I scoffed.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then dropped his words with a smile as his hand shot up behind his head. Everyone behind us broke into claps and cheers. “Nice catch, man,” one of the gorillas called.

  “Settle down, class.” Mr. Benson eyed the room for a second before turning back to write on the board.

  Totally and utterly confused, I frowned at David. “What was that all about?”

  He smiled broadly and opened his palm to reveal a ball of paper.

  “Did you just catch that behind your head? Without looking?”

  He dumped the cannon onto his desk and leaned closer. “Of course not. I just made it look that way.”

  “Liar.”

  “Okay.” His face cracked into a grin. “Maybe I did.”

  My head rocked in amazement. “Well, you’re a good catch. Er. I mean catcher.”

  He looked to the front of the class and crossed his arms over his chest, laughing to himself. He smelled so fresh today, like he’d just stepped out of the shower still steaming and hot, then sprayed deodorant all over his naked skin. I left my lips slightly parted as I smiled, because the sweet scent of his cologne brushed pleasantly over my tongue every time he leaned in or spoke.

  “I need everyone to take out their notepads and jot some things down for…” Mr. Benson started, but I lost focus as David leaned down and unzipped his bag. With his body angled that way—one side lengthened, his arm slightly up as he stretched forward—that fresh smell dominated our private little space. I drew a really deep breath then opened my eyes slowly, meeting then with his direct gaze.

  “You okay?” He held back a chuckle, placing two pens and two notepads on his desk.

  “Uh. Yeah.”

  “Were you thinking about ice-cream?”

  “Ice-cream?”

  “Yeah.” He bit his lip, looking at mine. “You looked like one of those girls on a seductive ice-cream commercial.”

  I flashed him a grin, and he sat back, breathing out his laughter.

  “Okay.” Mr. Benson folded his arms, leaning on the front of his desk. “Today, we’ll be having a class discussion about…”

  Toes in the sand, standing on a beach at sunset, kissing, making everyone who passes jealous…

  “Ara?” Mr. Benson said. “Perhaps you can answer that question for us?”

  “Uh—” I sat up a little. Crap!

  David nudged me and held out three fingers under the desk.

  “Um… three?” I said.

  “That’s correct.” Mr. B turned back to the board. “There were three characters in…”

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “Don’t mention it.” David folded his arms again and kicked his legs out straight in front of him, crossing his ankles. He was wearing those heavy black boots again. I’d seen him in those nearly every day, except yesterday when we sat on the grass by my swing, talking for hours—our fingers entwined; his cold, like mine, yet warmer than mine. It felt so good, but for such a short time, because as soon as the sun went down, he left. I offered him to stay for dinner, but he said he already had plans. Talk about disappointment. Now, I wanted to touch his fingers again to make sure they really felt the way I remembered.

  When David’s head turned to watch the pacing teacher move around the class, I stared down at his hand just to gauge the distance. Maybe I could accidentally brush past or…

  “You could at least try to concentrate.” He leaned his head a little closer as he spoke, keeping his eyes forward, his arms folded.

  But how could I concentrate, when every time he breathed, I could feel it and hear it? All I wanted was to rest my head against his chest and listen to his heart.

  “Ara, stop that,” he whispered gruffly.

  “Stop what?”

  “You… you know that look you get when you’re thinking… things?”

  “Mm, what about it?”

  His lips parted, his eyes sparkling with a grin. “Well, you’re… thinking.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t sit next to me then,” I whispered back playfully.

  “I shall ask Mr. Benson to move my seat if you wish,” he muttered.

  “No, David, I—”

  “Eyes forward please, Miss Thompson,” Mr. Benson said.

  The eyes of every student in the class made my spine go stiff. Damn this tongue.

  When Mr. Benson looked away, I tore a strip of paper from my notepad, coughing over the sound it made.

  David smiled, watching my not-so-crafty display of rebellion. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “Shh.” I nodded toward the teacher.

  “Show me,” he said, leaning over.

  “No peeking.” I hid it with my elbow.

  He sat back in his chair, chuckling quietly.

  Sorry, I wrote. When I said that, I just meant that you make me lose my concentration. I want to be next to you. I just wish we weren’t at school.

  There, that should do it. Somehow, it was so much easier to say what I wanted to say when I didn’t actually have to say it. “Here.”

  David placed a fingertip on the top corner of the note and slid it across the desk.

  “I want you all to write this down,” Mr. Benson said, scribbling on the board.

  When I dared to glance back to see what David thought of my note, he slipped it into his pocket, smiling my favorite smile—the one that lit up the corners of his eyes before showing in his lips—but he didn’t say anything.

  “Point one.” Mr. Benson wrote numbers one to ten on the board, and kept talking about something I cared nothing for right now.

  David, with his left hand, started taking notes without reading them off the board, yet still managed to write them down word-for-word, while I watched in amazement. How did I not notice he was left-handed? His guitar wasn’t left-handed.

  “Here.” He slid a pa
ge across to me.

  “Thanks. But, don’t you need these?”

  He smiled down at another page in front of him: the same notes.

  “Oh.” I toyed with the edge of the paper nervously, still wondering if he even read my note.

  “Ara?” David whispered, his head nearly touching mine.

  “Mm-hm?”

  “Can I hold your hand?”

  “In class?”

  “Yes. In class.”

  The idea took my breath. I couldn’t even nod. I felt his cool touch just above my elbow before he slid his fingers slowly down the length of my arm, making little bumps lift the fine hairs as they followed the curve to the back of my hand. I flipped my palm over and our fingers laced.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I nodded, squeezing his hand tightly, wishing he’d never let go.

  We sat with our hands concealed under the desk for the rest of class. But every now and then, David ran his thumb over mine and smiled at me. And every time he did that, my heart skipped into my throat like the rush you get on a roller coaster.

  I grinned like the Cheshire cat, silently praying the teacher wouldn’t notice the reason for my happiness, and as I sat there feeling closer to this boy than I had to anyone in my life ever before, I drew a conclusion again that I thought I’d discarded completely: I was falling in love. Even though I didn’t believe in love at first sight, my heart didn’t care. It didn’t change how I felt. I could only hope, as I watched David trying to conceal his own smile, that he’d one day feel for me the way I did about him.

  * * *

  Dad paced the floor, hands behind his back, droning on about some faerie myth, while Emily and I quietly gossiped our way through the hour, as usual. She scribbled another fact about the guy sitting behind us on a page and passed it to me.

  “You already told me that,” I said, sliding the paper back to her.

  “Oh, sorry.” She smiled bashfully. “Did I tell you he lives near you?”