by Emma Scott
“Willow, what happened?”
“Nothing,” I said, wrenching free. “I fell. I’m fine.”
Isaac’s gaze swept my face with its swollen eyes and smeared makeup. “You fell.”
“Yes, I fell,” I snapped. “On my way out of the gym. It’s not a big deal.” I turned away from his scrutiny and started walking again. Limping now, as a rock had punctured my heel, but I wasn’t about to let him see how bad it hurt.
“You went with Justin Baker, right?” Isaac said. “So where the fuck is he?”
I stopped and whirled to look at him. “What do you care?”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No and it’s none of your business anyway.”
“Willow…”
My anger rose, carried on a tide of frustrated tears. “Don’t say my name like that,” I said. “You had nothing to do with this. You don’t go to dances, remember? You’re done with high school. I’m not. And I was just trying to have a good time like any other normal girl and I…I had…”
“What?” Isaac asked softly, coming closer. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said, fighting for control. “Nothing happened. I got…claustrophobic or something. A panic attack. It happens sometimes and it’s so…stupid. So fucking stupid. And unfair.” I wiped my eyes. “Never mind. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Is it? To who? If you cared so goddamn much about what happened at the dance, then you should’ve…”
You should’ve told me on Saturday…
I bit the words back before they could escape and make things worse.
“You’re right.” Isaac’s deep voice was low and quiet. “I should have.”
My heart pounded and I stared, not knowing what to say or how to feel. I desperately wanted to recover one scrap of dignity. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand.
“Well, it’s too late now.”
For an instant he looked through me, as if my words reminded him of something. Then he jerked his chin toward my knees. “You’re bleeding. Come on, I’ll take you home. And I’ll park where your dad can’t see.”
“No, thanks. I’ll walk.”
“You’ll what?”
“Walk. I’m going to walk.”
“Christ, Willow, will you get in the truck?”
“I’m fine. And what are you doing anyway? Driving around town, looking for damsels in distress?”
“No, I…happened to be driving.” He carved a hand through his hair. “Who gives a shit what I was doing? Get in the truck.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I said, and kept walking.
“Fine.”
I heard the crunch of his booted feet on gravel. The car door opened and slammed shut. The engine roared and then settled to a low purr. And then Isaac was driving beside me at all of three miles an hour, eyes straight ahead. A hand casually slung on the steering wheel, the other arm stretched over the passenger seat.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Driving.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
I fumed. “Great. Have fun with that.”
I kept limping for another few steps, until the utter stupidity of the situation became too much. I stopped and faced him, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I want to make sure you get home safe,” he said in a low voice. “That’s all.”
That’s all he wants.
Tears sprang to my eyes again. I blinked them away and climbed into the Dodge.
Immediately I was saturated by the essence of Isaac permeating the interior. Gasoline, cologne, cigarette smoke and something sweet and woodsy that was him. It defeated the lingering vestiges of my panic attack and stirred something new in its place.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you for the ride.”
“You’re welcome.”
Willow
We drove in silence a few blocks. I eased a sigh and leaned my head on the window.
“What happened?” he finally asked.
“I told you,” I said. “Claustrophobia.”
We came to a stop sign. There were no cars in either direction. Not a soul around. The night was black and silent and cold. Isaac reached over and closed his large hand around my left forearm, turning it over. The faint black X was visible in the weak street light on the corner.
I caught my breath. Then let it out. Isaac kept his gaze on my arm while his thumb went back and forth over the faded ink.
“I wanted to go to be like other girls,” I said, hating the tears blurring my vision, turning my voice high and flute-like. “I didn’t expect much. Just one decent dance would have been enough.”
Isaac said nothing. He rubbed his thumb over the X a final time, then let go to drive. I held my arm in my lap, touching where he had, trying to keep the warmth.
We turned up Emerson Road. It sloped up for a quarter mile before leveling off about fifty feet above town. Isaac pulled the truck over at a lookout spot and parked under a tall oak, standing like a sentry at the top of the hill. Harmony’s tiny downtown lay below, twinkling with little yellow lights and the larger, gold light of the HCT.
Isaac cut the engine but left the keys turned. Lights still lit up the dash and he fiddled with the radio knob, searching.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Not sure,” he said.
Static crackled. He passed by a few blaring commercials and then the opening guitar strains of Shawn Mendes’ “Imagination” came on.
Isaac looked at me, his green eyes deep and softer than I’d ever seen them. “How’s this?”
“It’s nice.”
Isaac got out of the driver’s side and came around to open the passenger door. He offered his hand and I took it. His hand was rough and callused with work, but warm and strong. Just the touch of it made me eager to have both his arms around me. All his body pressed to mine.
I never thought I’d want that again.
He helped me from the car and I winced as my feet touched down on the dirt. He caught me as I stumbled, then stepped back to reached through the passenger door to turn up the volume. He took my hand again and we walked to the edge of the lookout, onto soft grass that grew around the oak tree.
Isaac wrapped his arm around my waist and held my other hand to his chest, over his heart.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
I nodded and slipped my arm around his neck. The scent of him, so potent in the car, enveloped me softly. I leaned into it and let my head rest against his chest, against the white of his cotton shirt exposed by his leather jacket. I inhaled as we swayed slowly to the music, the lyrics speaking for both of us.
After a few moments, I raised my head to meet his eyes. “This isn’t an act, is it? This is you?”
Isaac opened his mouth, looking as if he might protest or deny. Then he nodded. “I didn’t plan this, but… Yeah. This is me.” He raised a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing aside my tears. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I rested my head back on his chest. “Right now, everything’s perfect.”
He said nothing but I felt him nod. His cheek rested against my hair. This was exactly what I needed.
Maybe he needed this too.
The song ended and a used car commercial came on. We stayed in each other’s arms, with all of Harmony laid out below us. The real Harmony, with the HCT where we met and the amphitheater where Isaac touched my hands for the first time. Not the neighborhood behind us where my parents lived in a cold white house.
“I have to go back,” I said, finally. “They’ll start looking for me. The longer I stay out the worse it’ll be.” I glanced down at my bloodied knees. “It’s already going to be bad.”
“How bad?”
I reached up to gently touch the swelling under his eye. “Not like this. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
Reluctantly, he broke our protective circle and helped me to his truck. We drove back to my street and
I told him to slow down a few houses from my own. Justin’s limo was parked in front.
“Shit,” I said. “Justin is there. Maybe my friends too.”
“I hate letting you walk in there alone.”
“You have to,” I said.
“Do they know?” Isaac asked in a low voice. He reached over and gently took my arm again and turned it over to reveal the X. “Do they know what this means?”
“No,” I said. “No one does.”
I realized that wasn’t entirely true. Xavier would know what it meant. He owned every single one of them. He’d marked me, maybe forever.
“I have to go,” I said. “Thank you for the ride and the dance and for…just being there.”
I slipped out of the car before anything else could happen and limped with my shoes in my hand to my house. In the driveway, I turned. Isaac hadn’t moved his truck yet. I gave him a small wave and stepped inside.
Justin was in the living room with my parents. They all turned to look when I came in and the men bolted to their feet. My mother’s hand flew to her mouth with a gasp, her other clutching a glass of wine.
“What happened to you?”
“Where did you go?”
“We’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m here. I’m fine,” I said. I looked at Justin. “I’m sorry I left. I had a…panic attack and I ran outside to get some air—”
“You had a panic attack?” Mom asked from the couch. “Since when do you get panic attacks?”
Since last summer…
“I don’t know, it just…happened. I ran outside and fell. The gym door was locked from the outside and I was a mess and embarrassed, so I decided to walk home. I didn’t have my phone or I would’ve called you.” A thought jolted me. “Where is my phone?”
“Justin had it,” Dad said, “along with your purse.”
He held up my phone and the blood drained out of my face. I suddenly felt as naked as I had when I sent Xavier those photos. My personal property and thoughts and content out of my control again. Dad had scrolled through my phone tonight, I knew he had. I wasn’t allowed to keep the passcode a secret from my parents—part of the conditions since I’d turned ‘uncontrollable’ last summer.
I mentally raced through every message Angie and I had ever sent. I couldn’t remember if we’d texted about Isaac.
“Give it back.” I reached for it but Dad held it high.
“First, you tell us where you’ve been. With Isaac Pearce?”
“He’s bad news,” Justin said.
I turned my glare on him. “Shut up.”
He held up his hands. “I’ve lived here longer than you have, Willow. I’m just trying to watch out for you. I was worried sick.”
“I wasn’t with Isaac,” I said. “I told you, I walked home. It’s two miles and I was barefoot. You do the math.”
“Why would you walk?” Mom asked. “Looking like that? You’re a disgrace.”
“Regina,” Dad said.
“It’s true. She looks like a streetwalker.” The way my mother’s mouth slurred around that word, I guessed she was working on her second bottle of wine. “What will the neighbors think?”
“Give me my phone,” I said to Dad. “I need to tell Angie I’m okay.”
“I drove them home,” Justin said. “They were worried too.”
“I’m sure they were,” Dad said and handed me my phone.
I walked away from them and sank into an easy chair, quickly scrolling through my texts. I knew every single one of them had been read by my father. Maybe Justin too.
“She’s been different since last summer,” I heard Dad say. “Hard to manage.”
My hands shook as I kept scrolling for any texts with Isaac’s name. I found the S.O.S. to Angie I’d sent about hanging out with Isaac on Saturday and quickly deleted the entire convo.
He didn’t see it, or I’d be dead right now.
“Nothing to apologize for,” Justin was saying to Dad. Their voices lowered. I heard Isaac once or twice from Justin’s mouth and I wanted to scream.
Here is the noble Laertes and Polonius, discussing what to do with their poor, frail Ophelia. Deciding what’s best for her as she’s been incapable since last summer.
My mother was the audience, drinking her wine.
I shot a text to Angie.
I’m okay. I’m home. I’ll call you later. Promise.
The reply was instant. Oh thank God. Where did you go? I wanted to text you but I knew Justin had your phone. A pause. Is this you? Tell me something only Willow would know.
I smiled through tears. Angie McKenzie is the best friend anyone could ever hope for.
That’s common knowledge. Try again.
My fingers flew. At the mall, you told me that I was more of a Rapunzel than a Belle.
And I was right. Call me when they let you out of your tower.
I will. Love you.
Love you too.
“Justin’s leaving,” Dad said loudly. “Given what a disaster this night has turned out to be, could you please walk your guest to the door and say good night? Thank him for his consideration?”
I got to my feet and obediently walked with Justin to the front door. Dad stayed at the edge of the foyer, arms crossed, watching like a coach who doubted his star athlete had it in her anymore.
Justin smiled benevolently at me. “Are you okay?”
I nearly flinched. The exact same words had meant so much more coming from Isaac. Isaac had asked me because he cared. Justin asked me as a segue to his own feelings.
“I really was worried about you. We all were. I dropped your friends off and then I tried to find you.”
I hadn’t been gone long enough for that to be true, but I was too tired, too drained to argue.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He smiled. “Forgiven.” He bent to kiss my cheek but I moved out of his reach.
“Okay,” he said, his smile tightening. “Good night then.” He looked over my shoulder and waved to my father. “Good night, sir.”
I could have puked.
“Good night, Justin. And thank you.”
“Of course.”
I couldn’t shut the door on him fast enough.
My father stood with his arms crossed, now looking like an angry coach whose athlete had blown the big final match.
“That’s how you treat him? He spent all that money on a limo for—”
“He didn’t have to do that,” I said, looking down at my bare feet. “I told him not to. I told him we were going as friends.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him? I had such high hopes tonight. For the first time since last summer, you were acting more like yourself. Granted, your friends weren’t what I expected, but it’s progress from having none at all. But you did the same thing to Justin that you did to Xavier…”
My head whipped up and I stared. “I did what?”
“Xavier’s also a fine young man and I thought he was interested in you—”
“Interested in me?”
Once more, the blood drained from my face, this time from the memory of Xavier’s benevolent smile. Spreading wide like the Cheshire cat’s. Let me get you something to drink…
“He’s my boss’s son,” Dad said. “It would’ve been smart of you to put some effort into that relationship.”
“Dad,” I said, my voice trembling with cold. “I’m tired and I want to go to sleep now.”
I started toward the stairs, but he reached out and grabbed my arm.
“If I find out you were with Isaac Pearce tonight instead of Justin, I will call Martin Ford the same minute and tell him you’re no longer able to perform in his show. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking down at my arm where he held me. Little black X’s spread out from under his hand, skittering over my skin like ants. “I understand perfectly.”
Willow
I spent a sleepless weekend, mostly curled up on the floor in my room. I called Ang
ie and told her what happened—that Isaac had given me a ride home, but nothing about our dance. Monday morning, I stood in a daze at my locker at school. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Justin tapped me on the shoulder with one finger. Gone was his friendly, put-one-on-for-the parents smile and instead he wore the angry mask of a popular guy who got stood up by his date.
“What really happened the other night?” he demanded.
I took a step back. “Didn’t we go over this on Friday? I told you. Claustrophobia attack or something. The gym was too crowded. I didn’t have my phone.”
“Or did you leave to go see Isaac? You know I see how you look at him at rehearsal.”
I slammed my locker shut. “That’s none of your business.”
“Stay away from him.”
“Yes, brother.”
“I mean it. He’s trouble. I heard his dad was at Nicky’s Tavern the other night, ranting and raving. Owners had to call the cops to take him home.”
“Oh, his dad’s alive?” I said. “I thought Isaac had killed him.”
Justin shook his head. “Okay, if that’s how you want it. I’m done with you.” He started to go, then turned back. “You know, since you were the new girl and all, hanging around with a bunch of losers, I took pity on you. What a fucking waste of money.”
“We offered to chip in. Remember? How much do I owe you?”
How, exactly, did you want me to pay you back?
He stared, then turned away with a disgusted snort and joined the group of girls formerly known as the Plastics. Their heads leaned in, then fell back in loud laughter. The girls’ eyes widened over his shoulder at me, with mock pity.
Great. By lunch, I’d be the crazy girl who freaked out at the dance. I didn’t think Justin was mean enough to make it worse than that, but who knew? I hurried to English class, wishing I could skip the day and get to rehearsal where I could be someone else for a little while.
