The water turned scalding and I jumped, rushing to make it cooler. Another classmate took Connor’s place, and I too squeezed the remaining water from my brushes and put them away before walking back to my seat.
Regardless of the circumstances of my new relationship with Connor, having another friend was a welcome change. I climbed onto my stool next to Ava, who gawked at me in shock.
“What was that all about?” she whispered, inclining her head toward Connor.
A small laugh escaped. “I have no idea—but I promise I’ll let you know when I do.”
THE FOLLOWING DAY, I was finishing up an assignment in English when a finger trailed across my desk. Connor walked through the row of desks and over to the teacher’s, where he placed his paper. He turned and arched an eyebrow in my direction. I tried to keep my internal swooning to a minimum.
“He likes you.” The cool rush of air that followed Evan, blew by my seat. I hadn’t seen him in days. Well, that wasn’t true. I’d seen him but hadn’t spoken to him. He lurked around the edges, always when someone else was around, and made his presence known without actually being available.
I tried not to take it personally. I was aware now of some of his hardships and where he went when he wasn’t with me. Plus, there was the simple fact I had two new things on my mind. Helping Evan, and this thing between me and Connor. I was looking at them both in a different light.
“Maybe,” I said.
“He does. And even though I admit it makes me a little jealous—for you to spend time with someone else,” he clarified, “I think it’s good. It’s a good thing.”
Connor walked back in my direction, taking the long way around, and as he neared my desk his eyes were glued behind me. Goosebumps rose on my arm in reaction to the fact he and Evan could see each other. It was weird and uncomfortable and I bent my head over my paper, focusing on my work instead of the strange scenario around me.
A folded, square piece of paper dropped on my desk. Before anyone else could see I knocked the paper into my lap. Holding onto it, I finished my work and got up to turn it in. Connor had returned to his seat—his feet were propped on the empty desk in front of him while he sketched. Before I returned to my own desk I wandered over to the trashcan and unfolded the paper he’d dropped. I read the messy script:
Meet me after 6th period in the library computer section.
My eyes flashed to Connor, who paid me no attention, and then to Evan, who was no longer there. Tearing the paper into small pieces, I dropped them into the trash and walked back to my seat, curious about the note and this boy and how everything in my life was changing again.
Library after school. Class project.
Be home ASAP.
This was the text I sent to my mother before I stepped into the library. I’d done nothing wrong, but I still felt guilty. I didn’t even know what we were doing here—if anything at all. Maybe Connor just wanted to talk to me without prying eyes. Maybe he needed to show me something for class. I suspected it was neither of those, but further thinking caused monster-sized butterflies to rumble through my stomach, so I kept my mind closed to other possibilities.
My phone vibrated my mother’s response—non-committal for the most part, other than directions to be home by dinner. I opened the wide, glass door and entered the library alone. Evan disappeared after Connor dropped me the note in English class. Now that I had his “blessing” of sorts, I felt a little better about spending time with Connor alone. Weird.
I passed the main desk and grinned politely to the librarian. The computers lined the back wall of the library, away from the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side that over looked the athletic fields. Connor sat at one of the flat screens, rummaging through his dingy red backpack. He had a pen clamped between his teeth and with one fast glance over his features I noted how his hair was longer. It was more noticeable now that his beard was gone. The ends curled on his forehead and over his ears. The hair on his face grew fast, and I could already see dark shadows creeping under his jaw and chin.
As though he sensed me crossing the room, his eyes popped up and landed on mine, and he extracted the pen from his mouth, gracing me with a smile. A real one, not the smug kind he usually offered throughout the day. I gave him one back and stopped in front of him.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked, clueless about this meeting.
“Here.” He used his foot to push a chair out and placed a notebook in front of him. “Sit down.”
I sat, dropping my bag to the floor and faced him, waiting for him to explain.
He used the back of his hand to rub his forehead, causing his hair to ruffle and stick up. “After the other night, you know, on New Year’s Eve, I thought about your resolution.” He paused.
So, he remembered that. “Okay…what about it?”
His eyes darted down to his lap and then back to mine. “I want to help you. I want you to do what you said. I want you to ‘own it.’”
“Alright,” I said, unsure of what this meant or what he was saying. And unsure of how exactly a guy like Connor could make this happen for me, when I didn’t think he totally owned it himself.
“So, let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
“We’re going to find out what happened to Evan. We’re going to face this head-on—find out what he needs so he can go.”
My stomach lurched at his words, but this time I didn’t fight it. He was right. “What’s first?”
Connor leaned back in his seat. “First, tell me everything Evan’s told you about his family or himself.”
My first reaction was to balk. I worried about betraying him. Talking about him behind his back seemed wrong. But Connor’s actions seemed sincere, and I knew I had to do something. I took a deep breath and told him. Everything. I spoke and he took notes, scribbling down information about Evan and his sisters, his mother and the boyfriend, and living at the shelter. I told him everything I could remember and when I finished, he looked at me and muttered something under his breath.
“What?” I asked.
His fingers were already poised on the keyboard. “I said ‘no wonder.’”
“What does that mean?”
“I just…I had no idea. And it’s horrible. No one I’ve helped needed much more help than passing on a message. Jane, this is bad…really bad. I don’t blame him for trying to protect you.”
My inner feminist reared its head. “I don’t need protecting.” He ignored me typed words and phrases into Google. “I don’t, you know. I can handle this,” I said, pushing the topic.
“You can handle what? Psychos who beat their girlfriends and kids? Possible murderers?” He rubbed his eyes. “I think we’re both a little out of our league here.”
I hated him for being so rational. I blamed the meds. Stupid, making-your-brain-rational meds. My eyes flicked to the screen. “Just type in, ‘car accident kills boy, three survivors.’”
Connor’s slender fingers moved deftly over the keys and he pressed enter, allowing the long row of hits to line down the page. He moved the mouse, trailing the cursor down the screen, but I was ahead of him and said, “That one!” too loudly, causing some of the other students to look our way.
“Sorry,” I mouthed to the people closest to us, holding my hands up in apology. My face flamed in embarrassment, and to my shock, Connor moved the back of his hand and placed it against my cheek.
“That’s kind of amazing,” he said.
I jerked my head away. “What?”
A playful grin appeared. “I’ve never seen someone quite so red.”
“Shut up,” I said, and punched his shoulder. I wanted to disappear into the floor. “I don’t really like it when people look at me.”
Connor studied me for a minute. “Ever?”
“Not really, no.”
“Interesting.”
Connor turned back to the screen and clicked on the link. I leaned closer to read, practically hovering over his lap, trying t
o get a better view.
Connor read:
A 16-year-old boy was fatally injured in a hit-and-run accident this afternoon on Arbor Street and Decatur Highway. The boy’s mother, Ellen Chambers, was driving her three children when she was hit from the side and forced off the road. The car then rolled off the side and the front passenger door hit a tree, causing severe damage to the front end. Police say Ms. Chambers never saw the car that hit her. A witness claims to have seen a silver truck, a Ford F150, involved and fleeing from the accident. The truck is the only lead the police have at this time. Ms. Chambers and her two daughters were taken to the hospital for minor injuries and have been released. The family will hold a memorial at Ashford and Sons funeral home on Saturday at 3:00 P.M.
I grabbed the mouse, scrolling up and read it again. Connor leaned back to give me some space.
“Do you think that’s him?” he asked from behind me.
“Yeah, I think it might be. The date and the mention of two girls, it all lines up with what he told me.” I moved back into my own seat. “So I guess we have a start.”
“What?” He frowned. “What do you plan on doing?”
“I think we need to find his mother and sisters—see if we can help.”
“No,” he said, laughing humorlessly. “I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean ‘no?’” I said, again too loud, gaining a loud ‘shhhhh’ from the librarian’s desk. I lowered my voice. “Why not?”
“Because, Jane, all we need to do now that we’ve confirmed Evan’s story is find out what he wants us to do to help him and then do it.”
I shook my head with force. “That won’t work, he doesn’t want our help. He just wants to stay here forever and keep watch.”
Connor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “So you want to just go find them and say what? Your son haunts me? And now he’s stalking you from beyond the grave? And oh yeah, your boyfriend is a murderer?”
“No. I don’t know what I’m going to do or say, but I’m not just sitting on this information. And you don’t have to come with me anyway. I can do this on my own.” I stood, grabbed the notepad off the desk and ripped the sheet of information out of the binder. Folding the paper, I stashed it in my bag and swung it over my shoulder. “Thanks for helping, though.”
I turned and walked past the other students and the clerk and out the door and into the lobby. I wasn’t angry, just determined, and now that I had made up my mind to do something about this, I wasn’t going to let Connor try to talk me out of it. Pushing through the heavy doors to go outside, I descended the steps to the street to start walking home. Before I reached the bottom, I heard him calling my name.
“Jane, wait!”
I stopped and leaned against the railing. A gust of wind blew past us and I tightened my coat around me.
“What the hell—why’d you walk out on me like that?”
“I just, ugh!” I didn’t know how to tell him that when it came to Evan, I had to do this my way. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I’ve made a decision and I appreciate you helping me. I do. But I have to do this. It’s not your choice. You have your own,” I lowered my voice, “issues to deal with.”
He stood on the step below me so our faces were even. The blue of his eyes intimidated me. They were so intense and deep. Heavy lines creased his forehead and he shifted back and forth on his feet, but eventually he said, “Okay.”
“Okay?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah,” he said, tugging my sleeve. “We’ll do it your way—for now.”
I felt like a dork, but I had to ask. “We?”
A hint of red flared up his neck. “Yeah. If that’s okay?”
“It’s okay.” I would have done it on my own, but I also knew I wanted him with me.
He followed to the parking lot and when we reached the cars he asked, “You want a ride?”
“Umm…” I looked around for Evan but he wasn’t there—no one was. The parking lot was empty, except for some cars near the gym. “Sure? If it’s no problem, that is.”
He walked down the row to his craptastic blue car. “It’s not locked,” he said, opening his door with a loud creak. “I keep hoping someone will steal it and then my dad will get me a new one, but it never happens.”
My hand went to my mouth as I laughed at him. “You’re such a dork.”
“Just practical. There’s no other way I’m getting another car.”
“At least you have one, I guess. Mine are adamantly against it. I’m not even sure why.” I grumbled while fastening my seat belt.
He cranked the car, and it flared to life with a loud rumble. He his phone chimed and he checked the screen. “Crap,” he muttered, before checking the rearview mirror and backing out of the spot. “Do you mind going with me to pick up my sister? I’m late as it is.”
“You’re driving—let’s go.”
THE MOOD SHIFTED BETWEEN us as we drove to pick up his sister. His quiet made me nervous, so I naturally tried to fill it.
“Sister, huh?”
“Yeah, her name is Emma—she’s ten.” It was all he offered and it was enough, I supposed. For anyone but me.
“Any other siblings I should know about?”
Connor shifted gears as we stopped at a red light. “No, just the two of us.”
My fingers found a crease near the hem of my shirt and I smoothed it. “Does she know about…everything?”
He shook his head and grunted a low, “No.”
Okay. Hint taken—no discussing the sister. “Look, if you’d rather me not meet her, that’s fine. You can drop me off here and I’ll walk home like I’d planned.”
He shot me a dirty look. “I’m not dropping you off, Jane. It’s no big deal.”
I sighed and stared out the window. “This is weird. I mean, we’re not friends at school or anything…I doubt you want your sister to know we hang out after school. No one needs to get the wrong impression.”
That seemed to get his attention. “What the hell are you talking about?” He fumbled with the gear shift and the car jerked in revolt. “Shit,” he said as he struggled to get it back in the right slot.
“It’s just…” I ignored his erratic movements to right the car. “I’m uncomfortable about categorizing our relationship so soon. You have your friends at school and I have mine.” That was a stretch, but no need in pointing out my social outcast status. “People will talk if they see us together. The crazy girl and the delinquent. I can see how you would want to avoid that. Especially at home.”
I peeked at him and saw his hand move to clench the short curling hair on his neck. His irritation was evident, and I decided to keep my mouth shut for the remainder of the ride. Eventually, the car lurched to a stop and I realized we were in front of the community center. I could see Emma sitting near the door on a bench.
He opened his door, releasing a string of profanities as he got out of the car, and I heard him call her name. I watched through my window as her face lit up by his arrival. I couldn’t help but warm at the sight.
I turned to see Connor’s face dip into the open door. “I’m not avoiding anything. You’re the one that doesn’t speak to me at school. You’re the one that shies away from me in class and constantly calls herself crazy and me other names. Do I think it’s anyone’s business? No, but I’m ready to tell everyone anything they want to know about the two of us. I want you to tell Ava and I’ll happily tell the guys. You’re the one holding back.”
His eyes blazed with hurt. He stood again, and I watched through the window as he ruffled Emma’s hair and took her backpack. “Hop in the back,” he said, adjusting the seat forward.
I waved to the girl squeezing into the tiny back seat. Her hair was in two braids this time, long and hanging over her shoulders. She had on a hot-pink shirt with rainbow-colored striped pants. There was a smear of paint on her wrist. I wanted to laugh at the similarities between the two, but the tension in the car was thick. Connor was right. This wa
s my problem and not his.
“Who are you?” Emma asked while she openly gawked at me from the back seat.
“I’m Jane. Painting today?” I asked, pointing to her arm.
Emma rubbed her arm. “Yes, landscapes.”
“You take an art class at the community center?”
“Yes,” she said and Connor tossed her backpack on the seat next to her. He pushed his seat back into position and sat in the front.
“Emma,” he said, cranking the car, “this is Jane. A friend of mine from school.” He exaggerated the word ‘friend’. “We’ll drop her off before we go home, okay?”
The ride home was quick. Connor asked Emma about her day and her class. His attentiveness was endearing and if I wasn’t already falling for him, this would have won me over for sure. More than once, I caught his lips curling in an obnoxious smile. He totally knew what he was doing. Punk.
After he stopped at my curb, I gathered my bag. “Nice to meet you,” I said to Emma, who had taken out her sketch pad and was busy in her own mind. “Thanks for the ride.”
I leveraged myself out of the low-riding car and slammed the door shut, louder than I intended. I turned to apologize and saw Connor was out of his door, leaning over the roof of the car.
“You want me to pick you up for school tomorrow?”
He looked hopeful, but unsure, and his hands tapped on the blue metal roof. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat like molasses. Arriving at school together would definitely spark gossip and talk. After finally removing myself from the center of it, I was afraid to put myself back—even if it was what I wanted.
“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll see you in English, though?” I said it as a question even though it was obvious I would see him, but after this, would he want to see me?
His face fell a bit and I saw his jaw tighten. “Yeah, okay, English.”
I heard his door slam and hoped it was unintentional like mine had been, but I doubted it. His engine flared, sending a loud pop into the air. He sped off down the street and I leaving me alone in the street. Horrible and weak and scared. That’s how I would describe my behavior. I trudged up the steps only to find Evan waiting for me at the top with a look of confusion on his face.
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