by Chris Cannon
Figuring I’d take advantage of the time, I pulled out my Honors Algebra homework. I heard the door open and checked to see who was joining us. Bryce walked in like he owned the place: head up, shoulders back, and a don’t-mess-with-me attitude. How did you develop self-confidence like that? Was it genetic? Maybe it came from knowing you wore the best clothes or drove the coolest car.
Once I graduated from veterinarian college, I’d probably drive an SUV I could transport animals in and wear clothes covered in cat and dog fur. “Cool” was not in my future.
Would dog fur even stick to Bryce’s clothes? He probably repelled dust and debris by sheer force of will. What else could explain his pristine white button-down shirt? Just one more example of why we weren’t compatible.
Whack. Something hit me in the back of the head, and I jumped. Male laughter sounded behind me. What the hell? Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a piece of notebook paper folded into a triangular “football.”
Was it a note? Was I supposed to pick it up?
Whack. Whack.
Two more projectiles hit my back. Fists clenched, I turned and glared at the idiots behind me. Two guys dressed in flannel shirts grinned and pointed at the half dozen “footballs” they had lined up on the table. Great. I was their entertainment for detention.
Had it been my brothers giving me grief, I would’ve flipped them off. I didn’t know these guys, and wasn’t sure how they’d react. So, I settled for giving them a dirty look. How long was this stupid detention anyway? I tried to concentrate on my homework.
Whack.
Whack.
People around me snickered. My face burned.
“Ten more minutes,” Coach called out. “Keep it quiet, or you can all come back tomorrow.”
I flipped to a blank sheet of notebook paper and wrote in big black letters, “Keep it up=I yell=Detention tomorrow.” I held my sign so the people at the tables around me could read it. Then I turned it to face the idiots.
Denny, who sat a few tables over pointed at the jerks and shook his head no. Holding my pen in a death grip, I waited to see what would happen. Did I want to be responsible for sentencing everyone to another detention?
Minutes trudged by, and nothing new flew at my head. After what seemed like an eternity, Coach blew his whistle. “Everyone out of here.”
Pretending I hadn’t held the whole room hostage, I stuffed my notebook in my backpack and stalked toward the door. Why had those jerks singled me out? Was it because of Bryce, or because I was a geek? Who knew? Either way, I was glad I’d handled it on my own. I may not be able to knock a guy on his ass like my brothers could, but I wasn’t helpless.
…
Bryce
The self-satisfied expression Haley wore as she exited the cafeteria made me smile. Blackmail seemed to be her weapon of choice, which didn’t quite fit with her whole honor-student image. Then again, the good-girl-on-the-outside, bad-girl-on-the-inside scenario was kind of hot.
Hanging back, I watched to make sure the two jerks didn’t bother her again. The flannel-wearing idiots disappeared out a side door. Probably off to steal a car or deface public property. And now I sounded like my father. That had been happening more and more, and I found it disturbing.
I followed Haley all the way to the parking lot, in case another idiot planned on giving her trouble. So far, so good. Then Haley came to a dead stop and dropped her backpack. An outraged scream tore through the air.
She whipped around, spotted me, and said, “This is all your fault.”
What was she talking about? And then I saw it. Across the door of her pale yellow Volkswagen Bug, someone had written “Slut” in bloodred paint.
“Damn it.” I moved past her to examine the damage. The red paint matched the nail polish Brittney wore every day. Could we prove she was behind it? Probably not, but I’d give it a shot. I pulled out my cell and dialed my father’s lawyer. After I explained the situation, he asked a few questions and then told me to call the police and file a report. Like I couldn’t have figured that out on my own.
“Give me your phone.” Haley held out a trembling hand.
“Are you all right?”
“Of course, I’m not all right. Give me your damn phone.”
I passed her my cell and watched as she jabbed at the numbers, cursing under her breath. When someone picked up, she asked for her father, but ended up talking to her brother. I could hear yelling coming from the other end of the phone. Haley yelled right back.
No one in my family yelled. Ever. It was like watching one of those reality-TV shows.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Haley’s voice broke. She sniffled.
Why was her brother being such an asshole? I put my hand on her arm. “Let me talk to him.”
She blinked rapidly and passed me the phone. “Knock yourself out.”
“I thought brothers were supposed to help their sisters, not make things worse.” I hung up, dialed 911, and asked to be transferred to the nonemergency line. The officer I spoke with told me someone would come to take our statement within the hour.
“Now what?” Haley stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She looked smaller than normal.
“We have some time to kill before the police arrive.”
“You’re staying?” She seemed surprised.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” She sniffled and scuffed her shoes back and forth in the gravel. “Thanks.”
I looked past Haley and realized dozens of students stood watching us. Denny was among them. Either he was skeptical of my relationship with Haley, or he was still trying to decipher the four-letter word on the car. Not that the reason mattered. My father would love this. Denny and all the other gawkers needed to move along. “The show is over. Go. Away.”
Most of the students headed off toward their cars. I clicked the automatic unlock for my Mustang. There wasn’t much I could I do to make this situation better, but we could at least be comfortable. “Let’s sit while we wait.”
Once we were in my car, Haley slumped forward in the seat, staring at the floorboards like her life was over.
This was bad, but it wasn’t that bad. “An auto-body shop can fix your car.”
No response. I tried again. “This isn’t a big deal.”
Her head snapped up. “Excuse me?”
There was murder in her eyes. At least she wasn’t about to cry. “I said—”
“I heard what you said. Maybe this isn’t a big deal to you. I’m the one who has to drive around town in that car until I can afford to pay for a paint job.”
“Your insurance should cover it.”
“Sure they will, after I fork over the deductible.” She pretended to think. “I’ll run over to the bank and withdraw five-hundred dollars. Oh wait, I don’t have five-hundred dollars.”
“I’m sure your parents will—”
“No. They won’t.” She rubbed her temples. “That was the deal. My dad agreed to help with the down payment on the car as long as I agreed to pay for all costs after that.”
My father might be a tyrant, but he never withheld money, especially if it had to do with keeping up appearances. Should I offer to give her the money? If Brittney was behind this, it was my fault.
“So far this fake relationship isn’t working the way it’s supposed to. People are talking about me now more than they ever have.” Haley shifted in her seat and turned to face me. “You will stick around and convince people I’m not a slut, right?”
I now understood the phrase “like a deer caught in headlights.” Haley’s blue eyes were wide with hope. Her pale skin reminded me of the porcelain figurines my grandmother collected, that no one was allowed to touch. Except for her neck, which was the color of a tomato. Wanting to comfort her, I reached over and placed my hand on top of hers.
“I said I would. Didn’t I?”
…
Haley
Bryce’s hand felt warm on top of mine. He stared
at me like l was someone worth taking care of. No guy had ever looked at me like that before.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires drew our attention to the police cruiser pulling in beside my defiled Bug. A cop, who’d brought my brothers home on more than one occasion, climbed out of the car.
Bryce and I joined him. The cop pointed at the door. “You see who did this?”
“No,” I bit out, “but I have a good guess.”
“My ex-girlfriend isn’t happy I’ve moved on,” Bryce said. “Brittney wears red nail polish every day. That looks like her color.”
The cop pulled out a notepad and sketched a few lines. “I hate girl drama.”
“It’s one-sided,” I snapped. “I didn’t do anything evil to her.”
“Read this, and sign it.” The cop handed me his report. I read the summary he’d jotted down and wanted to hit him over the head with it.
“That’s it? Isn’t there anything you can do to figure out if she did this? Shouldn’t you take a sample of the paint or dust for fingerprints?”
The cop chuckled. Actually, guffawed would be a better term. Now, I wanted to kick him in the shins.
“This isn’t one of those crime shows you see on TV. Even if we matched the nail polish to the color she wore, it wouldn’t prove anything. Half the women in town probably own the same polish. Dusting for fingerprints is useless when hundreds of kids file past your car every day.”
My neck muscles tensed. This was a joke. Why did we wait for this guy? I shoved the document back at him. “Will filing this report do any good?”
Bryce put his hand on my shoulder. “You need a record to turn in to your insurance company.”
Had he forgotten about the deductible?
The cop took his hat off and scratched his balding head. “I’m not recommending this, but diluted nail polish remover might take some of the red off, though it might eat the paint underneath, too. Try it if you want to. But don’t come crying to me if it makes it worse.”
Short of attempted murder, I’d never call the police for anything again. “Thanks for all your help.” Did I sound sincere? No. Did I care that he could tell? Double no.
Bryce’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “Thanks for coming out, Officer. We appreciate your help.”
Suck-up.
The cop nodded at Bryce, ignored me, and headed back to his cruiser.
I shrugged Bryce’s hand off. “What was that about?”
He looked at me like I was stupid. “Always treat authority figures with respect, because you never know when you might need them.”
“You’re big on respect, huh? Fine. Follow me home. You can help explain to my parents why some crazy bitch vandalized my car.”
Chapter Four
Bryce
This was not part of my plan. If Haley’s dad had the same temper as her brothers this could get ugly. Time to stall. “I’ll go with you, but first we’re going to get something to eat. I’m starving.”
She looked at me like I’d spoken in Swahili. “You want to go eat? Now?”
“I’ve screwed up your life.” Turning on the charm, I gave her my best smile. “The least I can do is feed you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you doing this to put off talking to my dad?”
Damn, she was smart. “Maybe.”
“Fine. Then I get to choose dinner. I want pizza.”
My phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number on caller ID. The name Jake Patterson glowed beneath the number. I shoved the phone toward Haley. “Must be for you.”
“Hello?” She closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes, we called the police and filed a report. I was about to head home.” She opened her eyes and sighed. “Of course he’s coming with me. We were going to stop for pizza—”
She cringed and held the phone away from her ear as her Dad yelled something I didn’t quite catch. “Fine. No pizza. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
She passed me the phone. “Do you know where my family’s nursery is?”
I nodded.
“We live on the back of the property. Follow me, but watch out for the animals.”
Animals? I had visions of a beat-up old trailer perched on top of cement blocks with cows and chickens roaming the front yard.
…
I followed behind Haley’s car, noticing all the single car garages and chain-link fences on this side of town. When I’d been to Patterson Landscaping with my mother, we’d taken the highway. Soon, the houses on this back-road route gave way to cornfields and old farmhouses straight out of a horror movie. The road changed to gravel. Every rock that pinged against my Mustang’s paint made me cringe.
Turning into the nursery parking lot we continued down what looked like a service road. No livestock in sight, but a pair of dogs loped alongside the car and barked. We took the last hundred yards at ten miles per hour. Once we cleared the rows of trees, I was surprised to see a log cabin. Two stories high, it reminded me of a ski lodge. Large metal sculptures of chickens dotted the front lawn. Why would anyone want giant metal chickens in their front yard?
Following Haley’s lead, I parked on the road/driveway. As soon as she stepped out of her car, the two dogs that had followed us down the road rushed her. She squatted down to pet them. Something about the dogs was off. Once I was out of my car, I realized what it was. Both dogs were missing a front leg. Neither animal seemed bothered by this.
Haley gave me a knowing look. “Go ahead and ask.”
“What in the hell do you people do to your dogs?”
Her mouth dropped open, and then she laughed. “We rescue them.” She nodded her head toward the black dog on her right. “This is Ford.” She turned to the brown dog on her left. “And this is Chevy.”
I deciphered the clues. “Named after the cars that hit them?”
She stood and wiped her hands on her jeans. “We don’t know what kind of cars hit them, but the names are an inside joke. Most people don’t want to adopt three-legged dogs, so I agreed to foster them. Then I fell in love and decided to keep them.”
That was impressive. Brittney would never bother to help a dog, much less one with three legs. And now that Haley was smiling, I couldn’t help noticing how blue her eyes were.
The smile slid from her face. “Hey, Dad.”
I turned to find a man, wearing a welding mask and carrying an acetylene torch, striding toward us. The torch was lit. Blue-orange flames blasted from the tip. When he was within a foot of us, he turned the torch off and flipped up the faceplate of the mask.
While my father was intimidating in the, I’m-an-important-man-with-money-and-influence kind of way, Haley’s father was intimidating in the, I-could-kill-you-and-bury-your-body-and-no-one-would-find-you kind of way.
He walked past us to examine Haley’s car. After tracing the first letter with his fingertips, he stood and scowled. “Explain.”
“Dad, I—”
“Not you.” He thrust a finger in my direction. “Him. I assume this is your fault.”
Years of facing off with my father taught me to hide any nervousness. “I think my ex-girlfriend is responsible. After breaking up with her, I discovered she’s kind of crazy.”
He stared at me for a moment and then turned his attention to Haley. “You know the deal we made about the car.”
Haley nodded and looked down at her tennis shoes. She sniffled, but she didn’t argue.
Unbelievable. None of this was Haley’s fault. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”
“No.” Her father cleared his throat. “You’ll pay half. Haley, I’ll loan you the other half and take the money out of your paychecks.”
She rushed her dad and hugged him. “Thank you.”
He hugged her back, lifting her off her feet.
My family didn’t engage in public displays of affection. Ever. I pretended to check my phone for messages, because I didn’t know what else to do.
Something wet nudged my hand. Chevy, or maybe it was Ford, bumped my hand
with a cold, wet nose.
“He wants you to pet him,” Haley said.
Never having had a dog because my father didn’t believe in inviting germs into the house, I wasn’t sure what to do, so I patted the top of his head.
“That’s not how you pet a dog.” Haley came over and scratched behind the mutt’s ears. He sighed and leaned into her hand, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
The other dog trotted over, sat on my foot, and leaned against my leg.
Haley laughed. “He won’t move until you pet him.”
Following her lead, I scratched behind the dog’s ears. He looked up at me like I was his long-lost best friend. And then he licked my hand before darting off to bark at something. I shoved my hands into my pants pockets to clean off any possible dog germs.
Things with Haley seemed under control, so it was time to make my exit. “If we’re done here, I should go.”
Something flashed across Haley’s face. “Sure… I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Nice meeting you.” Her dad held out his hand. The tone of his voice and the gesture didn’t match.
“Nice meeting you, too.” I shook his hand and left, sure I’d have weird dreams about three-legged dogs, acetylene torch-wielding maniacs, and giant metal chickens.
…
Haley
I’m an idiot.
There I was feeling all warm and fuzzy toward Bryce because he’d offered to pay for the repairs on my car. In my delusional state, I thought he’d still want to go grab a pizza.
Wrong.
He’d offered to pay because he felt responsible, not because he saw me as girlfriend material. Still it showed he was a decent guy. Just not the guy for me. Once our deal was over and the male population saw the boyfriend barrier my brothers had created was gone, I could have a real boyfriend. Someone I had something in common with, besides car vandalism.
