The Night Orchid

by M. G. Hernandez

  Face remaining flat, he stares. Finally, he moves his enormous body, letting me through the door. I waste no time and run out.

  Screw Julian and everyone in this damn school.

  Chapter 22

  Julian

  Jo leaves, red-faced, stomping through the hallway and up the staircase. A slight guilt forms in my gut for the way I treated her. But she would have preferred the sneering than the truth.

  At first, I didn’t recognize the girl with the gorgeous voluminous curls falling past her breasts. But I realized it was Jo when her parted plump lips showed the sexy gap between her teeth. She was no longer in her designer clothes. She was in grunge street wear in a plaid flannel shirt, a satin V-neck crop top and tight black skinny jeans with rips on the knees. Gone are her stilettos. In comes the Vans sneakers.

  Then I marveled at the waves falling over her enormous brown eyes. My knees weakened when she ran her fingers through her hair to fluff her wild mane. But her eyes were on Brandon, who was singing like a fucking pop star. To make matters worse, the image of them near each other looks amazing.

  Mine.

  I wince. Shit. What the fuck am I saying? I shake my head to rid my thoughts of her. I don’t want her.

  Meanwhile, Bianca is smiling and no longer snarling. “Ian, I’m meeting up with the girls in the quad. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I nod and lean over to kiss her. But she leans back, dodging my lips. “My lipstick. We don’t need it all over your mouth, baby.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, ok.”

  I refocus my attention on Brandon who is sitting by the window, strumming his guitar. While lost in his private moment, a strand of hair falls onto his cheek, making him tuck it behind his ear with a trembling hand. Not a surprise since he’s hungover from last night, but I clear my throat to break his concentration. He looks up and squints.

  “You might want this back, bro.” I walk over and stretch out my arm with the folded jacket. “You left this in my car when I dropped you off after Jordan’s party.”

  He narrows his eyes and places the guitar on the ground. “Thanks. I’m surprised you’re not wearing it, like you always do when I leave shit in your Camaro.”

  “Nah, I got my own.”

  He chuckles as he wears it over his black t-shirt. “What’s up, man? You didn’t come here just to give me my old parka.” He pauses and scowls at me. “Or to rough up Josephine. That was fucked up, bro.”

  I shrug. “I’m not here to talk about her.”

  He plays Extreme’s, “More Than Words,” on his guitar. “So, what then? Why are you here?”

  I run my fingers through my hair. “I gotta ask you something.”

  He stops and drapes his arm over his instrument. His eyes look tired and lifeless as he waits for me to speak.

  “My mom found your jacket caked in mud.” I pause as I recall my conversation with Zander yesterday. “And I spoke to Z. He told me he caught you sneaking out of the party around midnight.”

  He laughs. “You, too, bro?”

  “Tell me what’s up, man. Be real with me. I can help you.”

  He studies me. “I don’t remember leaving the house. I knocked out early by eleven o’clock. You should know. You were there with me.”

  I bite my lip. “We drank a lot and ingested a ton of shit that night. Dude, I noticed you do more than just weed at the party. Hard drugs were being passed around, too.”

  He shrugs. “So?”

  “So, given your history of getting high and not remembering what you did the next day…”

  Brandon slams his hand on his guitar. “What are you fucking suggesting, man?”

  “I’m sayin’ maybe you up and left but couldn’t remember.”

  “Where the fuck did I go, Ian? To Lexie’s house and what? Abducted her and murdered her?”

  “They’re talking and saying shit about that night. Especially your behavior at the party.”

  He gets up and returns the guitar in the case. He picks up his backpack and walks over to me. “I thought you had my back, bro. I see how it is.”

  He brushes past me, bumping my shoulder. Then he stalks off, leaving me in the empty music room.

  Chapter 23

  Josephine

  It’s 6:15, and I’m standing in front of my locker. I yawn as I fiddle with my lock. Sleep deprivation is killing me, and I pray that I’ll be able to get a good snooze tonight.

  The sound of heavy footsteps hits my ears, and it stops behind me. A shadow casts above my head, and I glance up to find George Fenton-Wall—that weird, preppy kid from Calculus class.

  He grins. “Hey, you.”

  I sigh. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing much. I have a proposal to make.”

  “Say what, now?”

  He takes a step closer. “There’s a dance next week. You are going with me.”

  I blink in surprise. “If this is how you ask girls on dates, I’m not impressed.”

  He laughs, red hair bobbing. “I wasn’t asking.”

  I cross my arms. “Well, you are a cocky basta—guy, aren’t you?”

  He looks at me with that ever-present Halloween pumpkin grin. “Josephine, you have no friends, and you have no ties. Did you expect someone to take you? You’re lucky I even approached you.”

  I clench my fist, but after a cleansing breath, I unclench my fingers. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t do dances, and I don’t need you.”

  He laughs. “Do you know my family?”

  I sigh. “Why are we having this conversation?”

  “High-status connections lead to prestigious opportunities. We own every piece of prime real estate here, and you might recognize my grandfather, Mayor William Wall.”

  “Outstanding. Thanks for the education. Now I’m enlightened.” I turn around to leave.

  “You’re wanting to enroll at Stanford.”

  My foot pauses mid-step as George drops the bomb on me. I submitted the application forms for the UC schools last year, but I applied to Stanford University in secret. “How did you know that?”

  “I have my ways.” He leans against my locker. “And guess who is a member of Stanford’s Board of Trustees?”

  I gulp and say nothing.

  “My father. And if you go with me—and you please me—I may give complimentary words on your behalf.”

  I huff. “A few days ago, you made it clear I didn’t impress you. Why are you so fascinated with me?”

  “There’s something alluring about you.” His eyes roam my face, my chest, and the rest of my body. To emphasize his lust, he licks his lips.

  I cringe. “You’re disgusting. Turn around and take your damn connections with you. I don’t need it, and I will not prostitute myself for an Ivy League education.”

  He closes the distance between us. His cologne smells of spicy baby powder, and it makes me nauseous. “The boys have been talking about you in the locker rooms. They’ve been wondering what’s underneath those layers of preppy clothing and pea coats that you like to wear. With these tight jeans and thin, silky camisole, you don’t disappoint. Your curves are impressive, Josephine.”

  His eyes aren’t on my face anymore, but on my breasts. My nostrils flare, and I redden when his finger lands on my hand and traces up my arm. “I’m giving you a count of three to take your dirty paws off me.”

  He ignores me. Now, he’s rubbing my shoulder. “Or what? Am I doing something wrong?”

  “Yeah. You’re touching me.”

  His caress reaches my clavicle, shocking me with his boldness. I mean, we’re in a public space. People could witness him. How far does he want to go? I guess George is banking on his “connections” to protect him. And now he’s nearing my cleavage. I slap his hand away. “Time’s up. Apologize for touching me.”

  He grins at me, hazel eyes flashing as he grabs my wrist. “I can afford to buy more time. How much for a feel of your succulent breasts?”

  Somewhere in the hallway, I heard
footsteps. But my mind is on this asshole who wants to touch my boobs. To make matters worse, he’s not even worried about getting caught. Here goes nothing. “Alright, you little shit. Pay up.”

  Without warning, I lean forward and bend my elbow towards his forearm until his hand dislodges off my wrist. He snarls and lunges for me. In a matter of seconds, my training with Nadia kicks in, and I squat and wrap my arms around his lower body. Then, I push him with my shoulder while I pull on his legs and take him to the ground on a classic double leg takedown. He yelps and his face contorts at the pain of getting smacked onto the concrete floor. In the meantime, I just wrestled him, UFC style. But I get off him before anyone sees me.

  “What the hell?” says a voice.

  I turn. Julian, red-faced and charging, is running towards me. I plaster a smile. “Hey, what’s up, bro?”

  He stops in front of me with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? What the fuck happened?”

  “What do you mean, what happened? This asshole groped me. What are you mad at me for?”

  He pauses. “Hold on. I’m not upset with you.” He nudges his head towards George, still lying on the floor, whimpering. “I saw what he did to you. But how did he land on the ground crying like a baby?”

  “He was lunging for me, so I tackled him.”

  His eyes widen. Then he furrows his brows.

  “You’ll pay for this, you cunt!” I hear George yell.

  Julian bares his teeth and bends over him. “No, she won’t. I saw the whole thing, you little fucker. I know you enjoy throwing your family name around, so I’m gonna throw mine. Imagine what your mayor grandpa will say when the Chief of Police and I visit him with the news that you tried to assault a girl. Isn’t he running a campaign for re-election?”

  George’s eyes widen, and his mouth drops, but no words come out of his lips.

  “I thought so,” said Julian. “I wouldn’t twist this shit, either, because I’ll testify against you. Now get your ass out of here!”

  I lean into a locker and watch George try to stand. As he pushes himself up, he hangs on to the lockers.

  “Need a hand?” I have to admit, I’m still on a natural high from tackling a six footer.

  He glares at me. “Shut up.”

  “Boy, you’re in no position to say anything,” says Julian.

  George grumbles underneath his breath, and I chuckle. Serves you right, punk ass.

  He turns around and walks off, tentative by tentative steps. I look over to Julian with a wide grin, but I’m surprised to find him staring at me, unblinking. “You’re creeping me out. What’s up?”

  He breaks his trance. “What the hell did you do to him, anyway? You slapped his hand, and I came running, but somehow I missed the part when you tackled him to the ground.”

  I smile and wiggle my brows. “Impressive, huh? Two seconds. Tops.”

  He purses his lips. “Whatever happened to humility?”

  “Screw humility. I took him down. Double leg takedown. Classic grappling move.”

  He chuckles. “Alright, fine. That’s badass—if you did it.”

  I shrug. “You don’t have to believe me. You saw the aftermath.”

  He stares at me again, gaze lingering somewhere between my nose and my lips. Then he blinks, runs his fingers through his hair and turns. He walks away, and I follow. I nudge him with my elbow. “So, were you here to be my knight and shining armor?”

  He looks up to the ceiling and rolls his eyes. “As much as you get on my damn nerves, I don’t want to see anyone assaulted. So relax on your knight and shining armor shit.”

  I laugh. “For what it’s worth, thank you for coming to my aid.”

  “Well, you didn’t need it.”

  “No, but I appreciate knowing you got my back all the same. Plus, you defended me against George. I wouldn’t have stood a chance once he talked to his family.”

  He says nothing and keeps walking. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I don’t ask. A few minutes later, we’re at the exit, and I see him squint from the glare of the sun. “How did you even learn to grapple?”

  I bite my lip and stall.

  He shakes his head. “You know what? No need to answer that.”

  Then his gaze softens. “You ok, though?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  He nods. Then walks away, leaving me to watch him go as if nothing happened.

  Chapter 24

  Josephine

  Sweat drips from my nose to my lips as I ride my bike to the warehouse. I accepted a fight tonight because I need cash and I’m five thousand shy towards my goal. At the stoplight, I straighten my body and stretch, giving me the chance to relieve the muscle tension.

  When the green light comes, I resume pedaling and turn the corner to Magnolia Street. As I race to the next street, I notice the absence of the persistent knot in my stomach. I should be nervous as I’m fighting the nastiest fighter in Breckinridge. But I smile against the cool crisp evening air because my parents won’t be home when I return. For now, life is good.

  But the moment is short-lived as a sudden eerie sensation causes me to shiver. A passing spirit can cause this, and I shrug it off because paranormal events are commonplace for me. As I make another right, I bite my lip because I can’t shake my unease. Even though I see no goosebumps on my exposed arms, I have a creeping sensation of being watched.

  Peach Tree Way is quiet except for the occasional rumble of a vehicle or two. I turn my head and catch a dark car’s tail light, making a quick left turn. My forehead creases as I wonder at the source of this nagging thought. But the surrounding silence makes things sinister, and I pedal faster.

  By the time I reach the decrepit building, sweat drenches my back and armpits. My heart is beating so fast, I worry about my performance in the octagon. But I hoist my bike to my shoulder and run to the warehouse. I bolt through the door and topple over an industrial sized garbage can.

  “You shoulda been here a half hour ago, Lightning Jo. You’re slippin.’” Bruce is standing near the ticket table holding a hydro flask near his lips.

  “Drinking already, Bruce?” I roll my eyes as I let the bike run over his toe.

  “Bitch!” He yelps. “But I ain’t mad at you. All my money’s on you tonight, so don’t disappoint me, babe.”

  I give him the middle finger and slide inside the locker room. But the drunk bastard has a point, because I should’ve been here earlier. I’m late because I just woke up from a nightmare an hour ago.

  My fingers find my jacket’s zipper, and I unzip it to show my sports bra. Placing my hands on the waistband of my joggers, I strip to my shorts. “Jo, get your head in the game. No one is following you.”

  A sharp knock on the door startles me, and I turn. One of the crew members peeks his head, ignores my bewildered face and gives me a bored nod. “Five minutes.”