“Exactly what I said.”
That was the last straw. “Okay, Harlow,” I began, marching toward him. “Let's make this about you. You want to talk about magic and daggers, or—whatever? I'm all ears.”
His expression hardened. “Not like this.”
I shrugged, expecting nothing less. “That's what I thought,” I chided. “So why bring it up?” Was he testing me?
“I’m not asking you to ask. I guess I’m just surprised you didn’t. My situation is complicated.”
“Is that like your M.O. or something?” I ridiculed.
Harlow frowned but didn't dignify my jab at him with a response. “There's a lot about me you don't know that goes beyond what you just overheard. It's not something we—” he paused, reconsidering his words. “I've never told anyone about that part of my life. I don't want it to change your opinion of me.” Harlow turned his back to me, signaling the end of the conversation. It was just as well—I didn't want to argue anymore. So I turned my back on him and started to head back the way I had come. “Rayna,” he called after me, and I stopped walking but didn't turn to face him. “Please don't mention this to anyone.”
I waved a hand in the air to acknowledge I'd heard him. Who could I possibly tell this to? None of my friends were speaking to me.
By the time I reached my front door it was after five. No doubt someone from school had called by now to inform my parents of my attempt to ditch. I lingered on the porch, not eager to go inside. My mom would be waiting for me, armed with a million questions and an inevitable grounding. Thoroughly drained at this point, I wanted nothing more than to sneak in unnoticed, slip into my room, and crash for the night, no questions asked, but that wasn't going to happen. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for impact and turned the knob.
My mom popped up from her seat on the couch as soon as she saw me in the entryway. “Where on earth have you been, Rayna?” she demanded, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You didn’t answer your phone. We almost went out looking for you.” The sad part was she wasn’t exaggerating.
I withheld rolling my eyes as Dalyn bit down on her bottom lip, trying not to laugh from where she sat on the couch. “I went for a walk,” I explained. It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a total lie either.
“I'm sure you're aware that the Dean called. He told me you were caught trying to ditch school after lunch. Care to explain why?”
“Not really.”
Dalyn laughed abruptly, and my mom’s head whipped around in her direction. “Dalyn go set the table. Your father will be home soon,” she ordered my sister, pointing a stern finger toward the kitchen. When her undivided attention turned back to me, she continued in an accusatory tone, “He also said you had to serve a detention,” as if I were trying to hide this bit of information from her. “I don’t understand what has gotten into you lately, but I am very disappointed in you, Rayna. You were not raised to behave like this, and these are not the kinds of mistakes you should be making as a senior in high school. This little outburst could affect your chances of getting into college.”
She was overreacting. “It was one detention, Mom,” I droned.
Her eyes grew two sizes. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? Rayna, these things end up on your permanent record!”
“I just don’t want to talk about it,” I argued back, breaking my calm. And that was the truth. I had reached my conflict limit for the day.
“Rayna, are you on drugs?”
“What?” I stifled a laugh, shocked that she felt inclined to ask.
“I’m serious. You’ve been in school for six or seven weeks now, and you've somehow transformed into a different person.”
“Have you met her friends?” Dalyn commented from the kitchen.
“Is your new friend Harvey peer pressuring you?” my mom asked. “You can tell me.”
“Harvey?” I repeated in a distasteful tone.
“Rider’s friend. I know you're familiar with some of his friends or all of them for that matter. This is a small town. Anyway, I ran into Mrs. Larson at the gym the other night and she got to talking about Rider's friend, Harvey. In my opinion, he sounds like bad news.”
I shook my head at her. “Harlow, Mom, his name is Harlow. And I have no clue what Mrs. Larson told you, but you're both wrong about him. He hasn't peer pressured me to do anything. For your information, he actually tried to stop me from ditching school today, so maybe you should be thanking him instead of judging him,” I huffed crossing my arms. “Don’t set me a place at the table. I’m not eating.” And with that, I ascended the staircase.
“Rayna Lynn Pierce!” my mom shouted after me.
Ignoring her, I reached my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. Belly flopping onto my bed, I wanted nothing more than to scream my frustrations out into the mattress.
Later that evening my ringtone woke me and I fumbled for my phone in the dark. When I flipped it over, the bright screen read:
Incoming Call: LACEY
I let it ring a few times, debating whether or not to answer, before ultimately accepting the call.
“Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” Lacey asked, sounding apologetic.
“Not really.”
“Oh, well you sound groggy. Listen, Ray,” she began, and I was kind of curious as to how she planned on apologizing for her crazy jealous behavior. “I know I was kind of a jerk today—”
“Kind of,” I repeated in a tone that suggested “kind of” was an understatement.
A breathy, embarrassed laugh escaped her. “Look, we both know Arianna hates getting caught in the crossfire. Again, my fault.”
I responded with a blunt, “Yeah.”
“It’s just...when we talked about Harlow, that night at Beach's, you said you—”
“Really? You're going to throw that in my face right now. Lacey, I told you nothing, and I mean nothing, happened.”
“I guess I’m a little jealous. I feel like I lost my shot with Harlow before I ever even had one,” Lacey explained.
“A little?” I repeated questioningly. “Understatement of the century, Lace.”
“Shut up!” she laughed. “It just felt like you betrayed me. You flat out said you didn’t want a relationship with him, and then you guys ran off during Rider’s party together and then Johnny—”
“Don’t remind me,” I complained, squeezing my eyes shut at the mention of Johnny’s name.
“Hey, Ray,” she paused, “I'm sorry Johnny did that to you, and I'm sorry for not being there for you in the moment. I know I'd hate me right now if I were you.”
I frowned. “I don't hate you, Lacey. I’ve decided that I’m not going to let Johnny have that kind of power over me. The rest of the people at school can think whatever the hell they want as long as I have my friends.”
“Well, you’ve got me,” Lacey said, a smile evident in her tone.
“Hey, don’t forget, you still have Vince,” I reminded her.
“Ah-ha! So you admit it. You do like Harlow! Took you long enough!”
“I didn’t say that! You just didn’t let me finish. I was going to say you still have Vince, who clearly has a thing for you, and there is nothing going on between Harlow and me. I would tell you if there was. You’re my best friend.”
“Aw! Well, I appreciate that, but as your best friend allow me to smack you upside your pretty little head! Stop beating around the bush. You like Harlow and he obviously likes you, so I officially forfeit my former claim on him.”
“I never said—”
“You don’t have to!”
“Stop that train of thought,” I interrupted her. “We kind of had a falling out after school today…”
“Wait, what? How did that happen?” she asked sounding perplexed.
I didn't know what to say to that. “It was my fault,” I admitted sheepishly. “I lashed out at him because I had a crappy day. But you should have—” I stopped talking before I said too much.
“You still there?” Lacey asked after a beat from the other end of the phone.
“Yeah,” I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “Let’s just say it was a pretty bad fight.”
“Do you think you can patch things up?” Lacey asked, a hint of genuine concern in her voice.
“I hope so. I guess we’ll find out when he gets back to school,” I replied attempting to sound hopeful.
“Wear something extra cute. He won’t be able to resist you!”
I couldn't help but smile at her suggestion. “See you tomorrow!” I said. After ending the phone call, I returned my phone to its place on my bedside table.
Clearing the air with Lacey had taken some of the weight off my shoulders. Now I had to be the one to fix things with Harlow—if he would let me.
chapter six
THE REST OF THE SCHOOL WEEK WENT BY AT SUCH A snail’s pace, I thought it might never end. Girls whispered to each other in the halls whenever I walked by, and I’d get an occasional whistle from the guys. People I hardly knew were all of a sudden intimately concerned with my private life. Well, the imaginary private life the grapevine had invented for me anyway. The funny thing was, most of the students mocking me were total hypocrites. But that didn’t matter. All anyone cared about was that the bad things being said weren’t being said about them.
On Friday afternoon, I made it out the doors of HGH in record time. I needed the weekend. Forty-eight hours free of high school drama. Hoping that by Monday this nightmare that had virtually taken over my life would cease to exist. I slid into the driver’s seat of my car and drummed my fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as I waited for Dalyn. My cell phone chimed alerting me to a new text message. I picked up my phone, from its place in the cup holder, and read the message.
HARLOW: We need to talk. Meet me at our usual spot.
RAYNA: I’ll be there as soon as I can.
“Who are you texting?” Dalyn asked as she closed the passenger door and settled into her seat.
Peering up at her, I said, “No one.”
“Your boyfriend.”
I scowled at her. “He’s not my—”
Dalyn rolled her eyes. “Po-tay-to, pa-tah-to,” she said as I turned the key in the ignition, and she simultaneously tuned the radio. A few minutes of silence passed between us as we headed home before Dalyn spoke up again. “So, can I ask you something?”
If she wanted my permission to ask a question this was going to be interesting. Dalyn usually didn’t have a filter, especially around me. My eyes flicked over to her face. “What?”
“Don’t get mad.”
“What?” I repeated, the sharpness in my tone brought on by her words of caution.
“Is the rumor true? Did you really—you know?”
It took all the energy I had left not to slam on the breaks in response. “What? No!” I exclaimed. “Why would you even entertain that thought?”
“Well when you start hearing the same thing from multiple people, it’s hard not to speculate,” she said, desperate to defend herself. “I mean you did rip some girl's hair out.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, alarmed by the rapid evolution of the rumor. “Where did you even hear that? No, never mind, don't tell me. I didn’t rip anyone’s hair out, okay?”
“Well, that’s just what I heard. To be honest, I was kind of hoping at least that part was true.”
My face went deadpan at my sister.
“What?” Dalyn shrugged, a tiny laugh escaping her. “You pulling some girl's hair out is kind of bad ass.”
Disregarding her comment I said with finality, “I don't want to talk about this anymore.”
Dalyn’s eyes bulged at my reaction. “Calm down, Rayna, jeez.”
“Easy for you to say,” I hissed.
“I’m your sister. I’m just trying to talk to you. Help you.”
Could have fooled me, I thought at her. “Sorry,” I said after a beat, exhaling a deep breath of frustration. “I realize you’re not interrogating me but this whole mess is still a sensitive subject.”
“Do you have any idea who started the rumor?”
I winced at the question. “If I knew, don’t you think I’d confront them?” my words came out a lot harsher than I intended.
Dalyn responded with an amused, “No,” and I scowled at her. “Fine, forget I asked,” she huffed.
“Sorry! I’m sorry, Dalyn. I appreciate your concern, I do. I just can’t talk about this right now.” We sat through the rest of the car ride home in silence.
After dropping Dalyn off at the house, and apologizing again, I headed straight for the woods, relieved to have a reason to avoid my house. For once Harlow stood in plain sight when I arrived at our regular meeting spot. I was more nervous than usual as I approached. I hadn’t seen him all week due to his suspension and we hadn't spoken since our fight. I desperately wanted to apologize, but I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. “Sooo...” I announced, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt.
Harlow responded with a smug smile.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head as he tried to hide his amused expression.
I took a step closer to him and reached for his wrist. “I’m sorry I flipped out on you the other day. I feel so stupid about the whole thing. I was upset and—”
“Rayna, don’t worry about it,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have gone off on you like I did. I'm dealing with some turmoil of my own.” This bit of insight didn't surprise me. Harlow had hinted at trouble in his personal life on more than one occasion. “I didn't ask you to meet me here to force an apology out of you; I wanted to talk to you about something else,” he paused, “But not out here.” Harlow placed his free hand on top of mine, peeling my fingers from his wrist before effortlessly slipping his hand into mine.
My skin hummed under his touch and I wondered if he felt it too. “Where are we going?” I asked, staring at our locked hands as he pulled me along behind him, back toward the street.
“My house,” Harlow replied over his shoulder.
My mind started racing. What did he want to discuss that we couldn’t talk about where we were? Did this have anything to do with the so-called magic I overheard Ivy and Nick talking about?
“You could have just given me your address,” I said, but he didn’t seem to hear me.
When we reached the sidewalk, Harlow unlocked the passenger door of his Vista Cruiser. “Get in,” he instructed, pulling the passenger door open slightly for me before crossing in front of the car to the driver’s side.
“Are we in a rush?” I inquired as soon as we were in the confinement of the cab.
Harlow stared at me as if he were trying to figure me out for a moment before answering. “No, why?”
I shrugged. “You just seem like you’re in a hurry or something.”
He turned the key in the ignition and the car sputtered to life. Overlooking my response Harlow said, “You can change the station if you want.”
I shook my head disinterested. The interior of the car had captured my attention. Straw wrappers, spare change, and what I assumed was junk mail littered the car floor. And a gray messenger bag lay on the back seat beside a green umbrella—chills ran down my arms at the sight of it.
“You okay?” Harlow probed.
My eyes narrowed at him questioningly. “Fine, why?” I asked, rubbing the goose bumps away.
A knowing smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Just asking,” he said as he reached for a dial on the dashboard and turned up the heat.
We drove back through town and turned onto Cedar Road into the Pines Estates neighborhood—this surprised me. I half expected Harlow to live in a cabin in the woods somewhere. We pulled into the driveway of Harlow’s house. Two other cars took up most of the long, slightly curved driveway. Harlow parked behind a black Chevy Sedan—Nick’s car I assumed.
I slid out of the passenger's seat, as Harlow turned off the igniti
on, and took in the exterior of his house. A contemporary home with a beige exterior accented by dark brown shutters and trim. Beautiful in its simplicity, with an evident woodsy vibe—perfect for Harlow who loved the outdoors so much. My mind flashed back to Ivy's comments in the woods the other day; she mentioned something about poisonous flowers in the front yard, but the problem must have been taken care of because there were no flowers in sight. The wooden garage door rumbled open, tearing me from my thoughts. Harlow approached me from behind, placing his hand on the small of my back as he guided me up the driveway.
We entered the house through a narrow mudroom that doubled as the laundry and crossed the threshold into a large, open kitchen. Wooden cabinets lined the walls from floor to ceiling accompanied by granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. The entire back wall was one massive window, complete with a sliding glass door, which looked out into an empty backyard.
“You’re speechless for once,” Harlow commented.
“It’s so…”
“What?”
“Clean!”
Harlow chuckled. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“No. But I am surprised.”
Harlow's forehead creased. “That one of us is a neat freak?” he joked.
A second later, as if it were totally normal, Ivy waltzed into the kitchen from the adjacent room. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned casually against the archway between the two rooms, watching us.
This time, I wasn’t at a loss for words. “Do you live here?” I blurted out a little harsher than I meant to.
“No,” she laughed in an unfunny way at the audacity of the question. “I stopped by to pick something up.” She pointed to a cardboard box full of books sitting on the kitchen table.
“Ivy is a close family friend,” Harlow explained. A very close friend considering she had let herself in while no one else was home—unless Nick was lurking around somewhere. “I wanted the two of you to officially meet.”
“Pleasure,” Ivy greeted me with a less than thrilled smile. Her eyes flicked to Harlow. “Can we skip pleasantries and just cut to the chase?”
Iron Moon Page 7
