Her eyes are on me, her hands placed on the bed between us. “We’re talking about Brody Sutton’s little brother, right?”
“I think so,” I say slowly. The name sounds vaguely familiar.
“Hopefully Noah is nothing like his brother.” She shakes her head, as though I’ve just made the most grievous of errors.
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter anyhow. Noah has a girlfriend.” Perky, bouncy, golden-girl Kelsey. She sits three seats away from me in English. Physically, she’s a perfect match for Noah. They look better together than Ken and Barbie.
Relief settles over Sky’s face.
“You don’t have to look so happy,” I grumble.
“Sorry. It’s just that it’s better this way. The first guy you actually like can’t be someone who’s taken.”
I think what she meant to say was that the first guy I like can’t be Noah Sutton.
“I know,” I say. I know I can't like a guy who already has a girlfriend. And I know I shouldn’t like a guy like Noah. He’s too… typical. Affluent family, big man on campus, soccer stud. But still, I can’t get Noah’s kindness and gentle disposition out of my mind. He was so different than what I had assumed he would be.
It’s the look in his eyes when we danced. That's what’s plaguing me. For a guy who’s common, his eyes betrayed that his letterman jacket and perfect teeth shouldn't be his defining characteristics. I wonder if Kelsey knows that?
“I’m just looking out for you, Ember. You know that, right?” Sky taps my forearm.
I nod.
“Thanks for helping me out today.” With her finger she traces the abstract print of my comforter.
Sky hates her panic attacks. She lives in fear of having one in public. She experiences so much anxiety about having one that I wonder if it creates them.
“Mom is doing the same thing,” I say. “Looking out for you, I mean.”
Sky gives me a reproachful look. I decide not to tell her she looks like Mom when she does that.
“I thought volunteering at the library would get her off my back,” Sky says.
Volunteering was my idea. It got Sky out of the apartment for ten hours a week. If it weren’t for that, Sky would stay in our room with her used laptop, working as a medical biller, and hiding out from the world.
“So did I,” I admit. “But can you think more about what she’s saying?”
“We can’t afford it, Ember.”
“So?” I challenge her because she needs it.
Sky is a rule-follower, a person who’s perfectly content to stay within the parameters she has set for herself. She needs me to tell her to step outside them. My message is the same as my mother’s, but she won’t listen to Mom.
Sky loves our Mom. I know that. The problem is that she doesn't understand our mother’s life choices. Mom’s pile of failed pyramid-scheme businesses infuriates Sky. Her choice to break up with Andy, the man she dated for three years, instead of saying yes when he proposed, bewildered Sky. With a steady income and a house that would have given us our own rooms, Andy seemed like someone who could stop my mother from having to clean other peoples’ toilets.
But, she said no. We weren't told why, either. All she said was, you know when it’s wrong, and you know when it’s right.
I think I know why, and it’s romantic and tragic. She must still love the poet.
Maybe they couldn't be together.
Maybe they fought as much as they loved.
Maybe they were doomed from the beginning.
3
Ember
I’ve seen Noah three times since the day at the lake. Three times in two weeks. I’ve thought of him at least 1,892 times. Give or take a few.
He was far away, and surrounded by people each time I saw him in person. Does he know he does that? Draw people to him that way? His kindness seems too good to be true. Maybe that’s one of the reasons people gravitate to him. They’re getting a closer look, trying to figure out if someone can be both handsome and kind.
I can answer that question.
Yes.
He’s cocky, too, but I can’t tell if it’s real or for show.
“Ember, aisle five is ready for restocking.” Griff, who I call Gruff because he growls most of his words, points in the direction of my next task. “Boxes are waiting for you.”
I walk the length of the long checkout counter and step out in front of the candy display. “You know where to find me, Gruff.”
He shakes his head, and ambles over to help someone who’s walked up to the photo counter. I watch him go, wondering when the last time was that he could look down and see his feet? Judging by all the junk I’ve seen him consume in the break room, my guess is that it’s been a while.
Like Gruff said, there are two boxes waiting for me at the end of aisle five. On my knees, I open them, then pull out the first five deodorant sticks and load them on the shelf. I’m still involved in the mind-numbing work when I see three people pass by and stand at the end of the aisle.
“Shut up, you guys.” A female voice says, but she’s laughing as she says it. “It’s not, like, that big of a deal.”
More giggling. Words spoken in a low tone. I scoop another handful of deodorant and line them up on the shelf.
“We just kissed,” the same person says. If she’s trying to whisper, she’s doing a terrible job. “Okay, maybe we did a little more than kiss, but you guys would never tell, right?”
The other girls pledge their devotion and loyalty in a volume that matches the first girl’s. I roll my eyes and keep doing my job.
“This doesn’t mean I’m not devastated, you know? We dated for months. I, like, don’t even want to go to school. I don’t want everyone to know yet. Especially not with prom so close.”
Is this real? I’m close to pinching myself right now. Maybe it would wake me from the most ridiculous dream ever.
“Excuse me.”
I turn to the person speaking and try not to gape when I see who it is.
“I just need to grab this,” the girl says, reaching over and plucking one of the deodorants I stocked. My gaze follows her hand. Kelsey Moss uses cucumber melon scented deodorant. As if that is what’s important about all this.
“Thanks,” she says, skirting me and my boxes. Her friends follow her down the aisle and disappear from my view.
I sit back on my heels, my hand lifting to cup my mouth. The news, and what’s possible because of it, sinks into me.
Kelsey Moss.
Noah’s girlfriend. Or, ex-girlfriend. I think.
It had been her talking, right?
I’m certain it was. Mostly.
Or do I just want it to be her?
Crap.
I finish my stocking while their conversation plays through my mind. Even in replay, I can’t figure out which of the three girls was speaking. It couldn’t have been Kelsey. It just…couldn’t. Nobody would be crazy enough to cheat on Noah Sutton. Seeing her was a reminder I desperately needed. He has a girlfriend. End of story.
With a heavy sigh, I carry the empty boxes to the back. There's no way to know it was definitely Kelsey talking. Thanks to my wishful thinking, there is only one thing I know for sure.
My name has been added to the long list of girls who have a crush on Noah Sutton.
I’m common.
It’s the last thing I want to be.
Sky’s the one who should be doing this, but she’s too busy making life harder for herself.
Self-sabotage. I read about it online. If Sky doesn't try harder to get scholarships so she can go to college, she never has to face the fear of having a panic attack in a class full of people. She can continue to work from home, and argue routinely with our mother.
I’ve come to Northmount High School's library today in hope of someday soon being free from my mother and Sky’s locked horns.
The library is impressive. Stacks upon stacks of books, rows upon rows of computers, couches and chairs dotting the landscape. Ins
pirational posters touting quotes about perseverance and hard work decorate the walls. I’m hunkered down in front of a computer as far as possible from the door. I suppose it doesn't matter how well-hidden I am, because I’m the only one in here. There were five of us, studiously ignoring one another, but now they’ve all left. And then there was one.
Though I came here for Sky, I did need to finish my history paper. I accomplished that task first, now I’m working on the main reason I came. If Sky won’t go out and find the scholarships, then I’ll do it for her. It isn’t hard, and it doesn’t take long. She easily could do this herself, but there’s no sense in me telling her that.
I hit a button on the screen and hear the sounds of the printer across the room waking up. I get up and grab the paper, but when I take it off the tray I lose my grip and it floats to the ground. Bending to pick it up, I notice a pair of shoes walking into my line of sight, and not just any shoes.
Black, orange, and yellow striped cleats.
They come closer, and I’m frozen in my huddled position.
Paper crinkling in my hand, I look up to the person who’s now standing in front of me. Slowly my breath leaks out. My stomach flips, nerves twirling and jumping about.
“Hey,” Noah says, lips curling around the word. He brushes back a piece of hair that has fallen into his eyes. I track the movement, taking note of his damp and disheveled hair. I almost laugh when the disobedient hair falls back to nearly the exact place it was just moved from.
I straighten.“Hi.” My voice is too soft. So different from the way it sounded when he first pulled me from the water. I was mad he’d interrupted me. That was before I realized he’d thought he was saving me. Before I saw the uncertainty on a face that had only ever looked certain.
We’re quiet. I move the bracelets on my wrist up my forearm until they are stuck in the thicker circumference of my arm. Noah looks down at the ground and then back up at me. Three times.
Since when is the king of Northmount nervous? He plays in front of packed stadiums. By now his nerves should be numbed by screaming fans and bright lights.
He tilts his head to the side and grins. “You come here often?”
I can’t help it. I laugh.
“I expected way better from you.”
He pretends to be hurt. “What do you mean? Why?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Because you have plenty of practice delivering pickup lines.”
The muscles in his face shift, he blinks twice, and I wonder if I could stuff my foot in my mouth any further. The hurt in his expression isn’t pretend anymore.
Way to go.
“I’m sorry.” My apology rushes out, the words tripping over each other. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m not a player.” His voice grows deeper when he says it, full of conviction, as if he’s willing me to believe him.
“That’s not what I was saying.”
He raises his eyebrows.
I lift my hands. “Okay, it kind of was. But I didn’t really mean it. Not in a bad way.”
He pulls a strand of hair from my shoulder, looking at it. “I like the color of your hair. It’s special. Unique. Like you.”
At this I get angry.
I yank my hair from his hand, ignoring the pain in my scalp.
His eyebrows draw together, the confusion in them clear.
“You have a girlfriend,” I hiss.
He opens his mouth to speak just as a vibrating sound comes from his pocket. Sighing, he pulls out his phone. “It’s my coach. He asked me to run here to give a message to Ms. Crenshaw. He wants to know what’s taking me so long.”
Noah takes two steps away from me. I hate those two steps.
Even though he has a girlfriend, I hate those two steps.
Even though he’s a Sutton and not the kind of guy I should like, I hate those two steps.
“Ember,” he says, eyes burning as brightly as my name. “Meet me tomorrow. After school?”
I’m stunned, and it ties up my tongue until all I can say is “Uh…”
“The lake… That can’t be it for us.” He shakes his head quickly. Another step back. I hate that one just as much. “There’s more to us, Ember. When I’m with you, it feels like…” He trails off, a faint pink appearing on his cheeks. “You feel it too. I know you do. There’s no way you couldn’t.”
I swallow hard.
“Five o’clock. At the same spot at the lake. Okay?”
He looks so hopeful that I say yes.
His grin is worth the lie.
I watch him jog out the front door, then trudge back to the computer and shut it down. On my way out I pass Ms. Crenshaw. She waves at me, and the stack of books held against her body by her left arm wobbles.
Sky better nominate me for sister-of-the-year after all of this. I deserve a medal. Possibly a plaque.
One sheet of scholarship opportunities. The price? Me lying to the only boy who’s ever taken my heart and put it somewhere below my knees.
Sky had better go to college.
4
Noah
I stopped by the library today after school, just to see if she was there. She wasn’t. Disappointed, I hustled to practice.
I knew I was going to see her at the lake in a couple hours. I just… I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see her sooner than that.
I managed to focus during practice, but my stomach has been twisted in knots since I stepped under the spray in the locker room shower. I’m the first person cleaned and dressed today, and I nod at Brody as I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk out to my car.
Brody will probably chalk up my odd behavior to me telling him about my breakup with Kelsey. I’ll let him think that was it. How can I explain to him about Ember? I barely understand it myself. How could one person, one encounter, hit me with the force of a freight train?
My fingers tap the steering wheel the entire drive to the lake. When I get there, I park and climb from my car, following the path through the trees. Last night’s rain soaked the aspens and cottonwoods. My shoes press into the ground with each step, imprinting it with the design of my tread. I step from the trees and onto the sand, looking first to the rock where she sat. She’s not there, so I turn my gaze to the lake, making certain she didn’t decide to dance in the water again. The water is still, the only movement the brilliant prisms of light glittering on the surface.
I go to her rock and sit down to wait.
I wait, and I wait, and then I wait some more.
Pulling out my phone, I decide to see if I have any detective skills. I tap the Facebook icon on the screen and type in her name. I don’t know her last name, but how many people can there be who are named Ember?
Turns out, a lot.
Scrolling through the tiny pictures, I search for her, and try not to look at the time on the top of the screen.
After a few minutes and no reward for my efforts, I shove the phone in my pocket and gaze out at the lake. Ember is twenty minutes late. Will she be a no-show? I’ve never been stood up before. To distract myself, I go over what happened last Monday. The day before Ember came dancing into my life. I think I would’ve rather not known about Kelsey. Her cheating on me stung more than her breaking up with me.
Looking back on it, I’m happy Kelsey did what she did. She didn’t have to cheat, but I’m glad she broke up with me. If I’m being honest, her cheating makes it easier to think about Ember as much as I want to. Without it, I might feel guilty for spending so much time thinking of someone with red hair, when I’m supposed to be mourning the demise of a certain blonde. And what would’ve happened if I’d met Ember, but Kelsey hadn’t confessed what she’d done? I would want Ember no matter what, because magic doesn’t happen often. Thankfully things will never have to get that messy.
A very small part of me wants to thank Kelsey. I could return one of her teary voicemails, cut through her I’m sorry’s and say thank you. Kelsey made getting to know Ember an option for me. It’s a
n opportunity I want to have.
Assuming she shows up. Yesterday in the library she was shocked to see me, and then she was happy. She wore a skirt that reached all the way to the ground and a tank top with a feather printed on the front. Her ear was lined with all those shiny earrings, and I wondered again how I’ve been missing her all these years.
Fishing my phone from my pocket, I check the time. Five forty-seven.
She’s not coming.
The realization sinks me, pushing my shoulders down and vaporizing the elated air I came here on. I climb off the rock, trudge back through the sand, and cross the moist forest floor, twigs snapping beneath me.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and for a thoughtless second, I think somehow she got my number. Maybe her detective skills are better than mine.
It’s not her.
My mother wants me to bring home pain reliever. She has a headache. I toss the phone on my passenger seat and rub my own head, as though I’m the one with the headache.
All the way to the drugstore, I replay the first time I met Ember. I go back over the blue of her eyes, with those three brown dots in the left one. Even her eye color is extraordinary.
I want to find her. I want to ask her why she didn’t show.
More than anything, I really want to kiss her.
Headache medicine in hand, I head up front to the cashier. I’m almost there when I see it.
Red hair, tied in a loose braid. The person it belongs to grabs it from her back and lays it over one shoulder. She’s sitting on her knees so I can only see her back, which is covered in a bright yellow vest. I sneak around into the next aisle and walk its length, coming out and rounding the end. I stop ten feet away from her.
“You either forgot to meet me or you lost track of time.” I hear my arrogance. Blame it on my wounded ego.
Magic Minutes (The Time Series Book 2) Page 3
