She glances around the house before turning back to me and toys with the zipper of her coat.
“Happy birthday,” she whispers.
I divert my eyes down and stare at my bare feet. As a kid I hated sharing my birthday with my sister. Our parents did a good job showering us both with attention and always bought two cakes, but it wasn’t the same. We always had joint birthday parties and fought over where they should be so they always wound up being in the house. Our mother would decorate half the house with pink shit and the other half with blue. It looked more like a baby shower than the cool birthday parties all my friends were having.
Now I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could have a pink and blue birthday party, stand alongside my sister and blow out the candles on our cakes together.
Today, Celeste is the first person to wish me a happy birthday and likely to be the only one, which is fine with me. I don’t want to celebrate my birthday ever again and I’m pretty sure neither do my parents.
“I’m sorry, should I not have said that?” she asks softly.
I lift my head and shrug my shoulders.
“I know it’s not a good day, but I didn’t want you to think I forgot your birthday,” she adds, reaching for my hands.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, clearing my throat as I squeeze her hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up to take you to school today.”
Then I realize she should still be in school and not here wishing me a happy birthday.
“Did you cut class?”
“Yeah,” she admits, shrugging her shoulders.
“Rebel,” I tease, quirking my lips slightly. I let go of her hands and wrap my arms around her before I drop a kiss on the top of her head.
“Thanks for thinking of me, Cel,” I rasp, pulling away to look into her sad eyes. If I had one wish, I’d wish I could go back in time and change everything. My sister would still be here and I’d still be the guy tallying all Celeste’s smiles.
It would be a waste of a wish because I can’t change shit.
Sighing, I shove my hands into my pockets and look over at her, hating how sad she appears.
She doesn’t smile anymore and I hate that.
“You’re welcome,” she says, before she pulls her lower lip between her teeth. “I thought about getting you a present but I didn’t think you’d like that very much. I did stop at the store on the way here and picked up two cupcakes.”
“Celeste—”
“I won’t sing to you but we can sing to her and we’ll blow out the candles together and make a wish for her,” she rambles, reaching for her bag. She pulls out a twin pack of Hostess cupcakes and two candles.
“Jagger, it’s still your birthday and I believe with my whole heart she’s somewhere wishing she could blow out the candles with you.”
I stare at the cupcakes for a moment and hang onto hope that Celeste is right. That somewhere my sister is alive and not dead—that she’s turning fifteen today too.
“I wished for you,” she whispers. “So don’t tell me wishes can’t come true.”
Sometimes I forget that we’re fifteen and just two kids that should still believe in silly things like wishes. Desperate for a bit of normalcy, I reach for her hand and lead her into the kitchen. I grab the package of cupcakes from her hand and place them on the counter.
“For Alexandria,” I say hoarsely.
“Okay,” she agrees softly.
I brace my hands on the counter and watch her tear open the packaging, poking the candles into the tops of the cupcakes. She grabs a lighter from her back pocket and lights the candles before turning to me.
“Ready?”
I nod as she places her hand over mine and we stare at the glowing candles. Celeste begins to sing happy birthday and half way through I join her. Once we’re finished, she holds up the first cupcake.
“Make a wish for her,” she murmurs.
I look back at her through the light of the candle and see the tears in her eyes, knowing they match the ones I’m fighting to hold back.
I close my eyes briefly and make the wish.
I wish for my sister to return to us.
Opening my eyes, they lock with hers and together we blow out the candle
“Happy birthday, Alexandria,” I whisper.
I’m not naïve to think the wish will come true, but then I see Celeste smile. It’s a smile full of hope and for a moment I have hope too.
She continues to smile as she lifts the second cupcake. This time when I close my eyes and blow out the candle I wish for Celeste to keep smiling so I can keep a tally again.
“I’ve got one more surprise,” she says, licking the frosting from her thumb.
I don’t think I can handle anymore birthday shit but I give in, desperate to hang onto her smile and another stolen moment of normalcy.
She grabs my face and pulls me against her, pressing her lips to mine. She’s more brazen with her kisses than she was before, and every time her mouth touches mine there is a sense of urgency.
“I love you, Jagger Richardson,” she whispers against my mouth.
I don’t remember the last time anyone said those words to me but I’m sure it was before my sister went missing. I didn’t realize how badly I missed hearing them or how much I wanted her to say them until now.
Our lives changed a year ago.
Violence stole our innocence, and she stole my heart.
Cupping her face, I inch back and gaze at her, realizing she is the only piece of happiness I have left.
She’s my sliver of heaven.
“I love you too, Celeste,” I murmur hoarsely.
A smile spreads across her wet lips and my wish comes true.
Another one to add to the count.
Chapter Thirteen
Age: 16
The good thing about your parents not paying any attention to you is that you can raise all kinds of hell. You can cut out of school, drink your dad’s beer and take your mother’s car without them ever knowing.
Not in that order of course. I don’t drink and drive.
I might not give a fuck what happens to me, but I’m not looking to add anymore guilt to the load my shoulders already carry. No fucking thank you.
I park my mother’s car on the corner of Celeste’s block and glance out the window, watching as she runs toward me.
Damn, she’s a sight.
A gorgeous face, miles of blonde waves and a smile that steals my damn breath every time she gives it to me. She’s changed over the years, fading from a girl to a woman right before my eyes. Her clothes mold to her curves, showing off her long legs, tiny waist, and boobs that fit in the palm of my hand.
I thank the gods of puberty every damn day.
We’re still the kids everyone in the neighborhood talks about. I’m still the twin with a missing sister and she’s still the friend who was spared. We’ll always carry the burden of tragedy, but these days we don’t give a fuck what everyone whispers behind our back. These days we’re two kids who damn the whole ugly world to Hell and break rules whenever we can.
Today is Celeste’s sixteenth birthday and instead of keeping up with the crowd and having one of those fancy parties she’s breaking all kinds of rules with me. She won’t admit it, but I know the reason she isn’t having a sweet sixteen is because she feels guilty Alexandria isn’t here to have one. Everything she does, every choice she makes, she keeps my sister in mind. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I sometimes feel like she’s forgotten her own dreams and lives, no, more like needs to make all my sister’s dreams come true.
I questioned her once and it led to our first major fight. She didn’t talk to me for a week and I vowed never to call her on it again. I did promise myself I’d get her to live a little more for herself and a little less for a ghost.
I won’t say it out loud, mainly because saying it makes it true, but I don’t think my sister is alive. For some time there have been no leads, and while my parents p
ray for a miracle, I pray for her to rest in peace.
I pray that the bastard who took her is tortured and maimed.
I pray that one day I’m face to face with the fucker.
That I’m the guy delivering the torture.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says breathlessly, pulling me away from my twisted thoughts. “I had to wait for my mother to leave for work.”
“Get over here,” I demand, crooking my finger.
Slamming the door, she grins at me and leans over the console.
I tally her smile and reach for her face, slamming my mouth against hers. Her lips part and my tongue dives in for that first taste of heaven. Kissing her is my favorite hobby…well, it was until last week. Until she let me slide my hand down her shorts and gave me another one of her firsts. I’m keeping tally of those too, waiting for the day she gives it all to me. She’s not ready yet and I’m cool with that. We fuck around all the time and touching her where no one else has is enough for me. It’s like practicing for the big game.
“Happy sweet sixteen,” I mutter between kisses. I nip her lower lip and slide my tongue along the seam of her mouth, catching the moan that escapes the back of her throat. Her hands slide down my chest and she palms my erection. Her first go at a hand job nearly cost me my dick, but she’s learning.
I move her hand, cutting her lesson short because I’ve got big plans for my girl, and dropping a load in my jeans isn’t part of them. Peeling my eyes away from her pouty mouth, I reach into the back seat and grab the bouquet of flowers I picked up from the corner store.
She slaps my shoulder as I hand them to her and smiles at me.
“You bought me flowers?”
“They’re just flowers,” I say with a laugh.
“Shut up, you’re ruining the moment,” she scolds as she brings the colorful mix to her nose. “I love them,” she adds, lowering them from her face. “No one ever bought me flowers before. Well, my dad bought me flowers for my dance recital but that doesn’t count.”
“Plan on taking all your firsts, Cel,” I tell her as I run my index finger down the slope of her nose. “Ready to get wild with me?”
“Always,” she grins.
“That’s my girl,” I laugh, starting up the car.
She drops the flowers to her lap and fastens her seatbelt as I start the car. In the city you need to be seventeen to get your license and sixteen for your permit. I’ve got neither. But that won’t stop me and it won’t stop Celeste either.
She’s been bugging me to teach her how to drive. Apparently having a boyfriend that robs his parents’ car in the middle of the night and teaches himself how to drive makes him an expert. Whatever—I’m going to run with my expertise and give my girl what she wants.
I’m going to take another first.
Give her another lesson.
Take her smile.
Add it to the tally and teach her how to drive.
You’re only sixteen once.
She blasts the music, singing along to each song as I drive down the side streets of Brooklyn, avoiding all major avenues—and cops. At every red light I glance over at her, watching as she dances in her seat, flipping her hair from side to side. A grin spreads across my lips because in that moment she’s living for herself and no one else.
Mission accomplished.
“Life is a highway...I want to ride it all night long,” she sings off key at the top of her lungs, using the flowers as a microphone.
The light turns green and she leans over the console.
“Sing with me,” she demands.
“No,” I laugh.
“Sing with me, Jagger. It’s my birthday!”
“I don’t know the words,” I lie.
“Bullshit, everyone knows this song,” she argues, transforming her fist into a microphone instead of the flowers. “If you’re going my way…”
“I want to drive it all night long…” I sing into her hand.
“Yes,” she cheers, smacking her lips to my cheek.
We continue to sing as I drive and I realize that she’s not the only one learning things. I’m learning that everything she does is contagious. From her laughter to her tears, her happiness and her sadness…everything she feels I feel.
I’m learning life carries on by loving someone else.
Finally, I pull into the abandoned lot and turn down the volume as she glances out the window and back at me.
“Oh baby, you shouldn’t have,” she teases before narrowing her eyes at me. “I’m not crawling into the back seat of your mother’s car on my sixteenth birthday. I’m going to need a more romantic story to tell my kids one day.”
“Didn’t bring you here to crawl into the back seat,” I reply, pushing back my seat as far as it goes. “But I thought you might want to crawl onto my lap,” I suggest, raising an eyebrow as I slap my palms to my thighs.
“What’s in it for me?” she questions, crossing her arms against her chest.
“I don’t know, why don’t you hop on and we’ll see what pops up,” I joke.
“So you threw away your aspirations of becoming a hotshot football player to be a mediocre comedian? You disappoint me,” she mocks.
Laughing, I reach for her hands and pull her forward.
“Come on, live a little, gorgeous,” I urge. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you,” she murmurs.
“Then hop on and let’s go for a ride.”
Her eyes widen and divert between the steering wheel and my lap.
“Really?”
I barely have a chance to nod before she’s climbing over the console and positioning herself on my lap. I wrap my arms around her and place her hands on the steering wheel—somewhere between ten and two like I read in the ‘Driver’s Ed’ manual I stole from the DMV.
“Put your foot on the gas pedal,” I instruct, dropping one hand to her waist and the other to the gear shift.
“You ready?”
“Yes,” she says with a nod.
I’m about to shift the car into drive when she shrieks.
“No! Wait! What if I crash?”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Ready?” I repeat, ignoring her.
“Jagger!”
I shift the car into drive, slam my foot over hers and we take off. She screams as she grips the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white and I remove my foot from hers. I place both hands on her hips and rest my chin on her shoulder as she drives for the first time.
We both go flying forward when she slams on the break and then she takes off again. She does that a few times before she gets the hang of it and soon she relaxes in my arms.
“I’m driving! I’m really driving,” she shrieks.
“Yeah, you are,” I say proudly. “Shit, Cel, watch the tree!”
“What tree? Where?”
The laugh rumbles through me and fills the car as she slams on the break and turns her head from side to side like a tree is going to pop out of nowhere
“Jagger!” she hisses, slapping my arms that are wrapped tightly around her.
I press my lips to her shoulder and kiss her.
“I love you,” I tell her.
I don’t have to lift my head to know she’s smiling.
Another smile.
Another reminder that life goes on.
Chapter Fourteen
Age: 17
I should feel some sort of remorse for disappointing my parents. They lost the better half of the Richardson twins and got stuck with the delinquent son. The son they signed out of high school after the guidance counselor told them there was no shot in hell I’d ever graduate with my class. Actually, he said I probably wouldn’t even graduate with the incoming freshman class and recommended I get my GED.
My mother cried for about a second before she popped another Xanax and checked out of life like she usually did. My father remained his typical stone-faced self and ordered me to get a
real job. I don’t think he feels anything anymore. He never shows any kind of emotion. I suppose that’s what happens when you have two children and one is born an angel and the other a devil.
I guess that’s what happens when you learn not all angels end up in Heaven and sometimes the devil escapes Hell.
I got a job with Celeste’s father working at his garage. For some reason, they feel bad for me and cut me some slack. I’m sure I’m not the guy they want their daughter to end up with, that they prefer her to be with someone who has a future. Yet they haven’t slammed the door in my face and still set the table for four every night.
Maybe it’s because they know I love her and my poor decisions haven’t rubbed off on her.
Maybe it’s because I’ve only been making a mess out of my life and not hers.
Maybe it’s because they know their daughter is going somewhere in this life and it’s only a matter of time before she drops me like the bad habit I’ve become.
Junior year brought a lot of changes for Celeste—all of which were good. She stopped cutting class and really applied herself at school. She made up the thirteen credits she pissed away being rebellious with me and scored good grades. She’s got her sights set on college and while I learn how to rebuild a tranny, she studies for the SAT’s.
We’re changing more and more every day, some of it good and some of it bad, but that damn cloud still drags behind us. There are days when she breaks free from it, away from the guilt and the burden. Days when she gets to be a normal teenage girl unscathed by the ugly world we live in. Those days don’t last because as long as she’s with me, she’ll always have a piece of that hell weighing her down. There are days I wonder if I should let her go, days like today when my mistakes and the road I chose darken her world.
She should be at her junior prom making memories she’ll never forget, but instead she’s sitting beside me in my dad’s car all dressed up with nowhere to go. I peer at her from the corner of my eye and watch as she toys with the corsage on her wrist.
I tried to do the right thing, I swallowed my pride and prepared myself to face a school full of people I have absolutely no use for. I rented this stupid tuxedo and picked out a corsage that matched her purple dress. I picked her up, held her door and looped her arm with mine as we headed into the prom. We never made it through the door.
Wanderer (The Nomad Series Book 2) Page 9
