“Hears what?” Daphne asks, suddenly appearing between us. There’s a football game tonight so she’s tricked out in her black and gold cheerleader attire, complete with ribbons around her ponytail and a temporary tattoo of a paw print on her right cheek.
“Our girl here is sweet on Bash Holbrook,” Audra fills her in with a smile so huge that I can count all of her teeth.
My sister looks ready to keel over. She actually presses a hand into her chest like she’s on the verge of a heart attack. “Oh-em-gee—what?”
I’m simultaneously wrestling with the release on my lock and shaking my head. “This is exactly how rumors start,” I warn them. “I do not like him.”
“Could have fooled me,” Audra says.
Daphne is grinning goofily. She nudges my shin with the toe of her sneaker and says, “Bash Holbrook? This is so unlike you. I’m impressed.”
“You’re impressed because I’m unlike myself?” I bristle. “Thanks a lot, Daphne.”
“I’m just saying that this is exactly what I’ve been talking about. You should be taking more chances.”
“Take all the chances you want,” Audra puts in with a sardonic giggle. “Just use protection.”
“Trust me, protection is not necessary.”
She wrinkles her nose at me. “It is if you know what’s good for you.”
Daphne laughs. I groan.
“If you two must know the truth,” I say rigidly, “I don’t like him in the way that you’re thinking I like him. I’m simply curious about him.”
“Curious? Hmm… Is that what the kids are callin’ it these days?” Audra jokes.
“Yes,” I insist as I shove my Spanish book onto one of the metal shelves and slam the door of my locker closed. This is definitely not the time to confess to my sister and best friend that last week I attempted to stalk Sebastian online but was thwarted by a vague and mostly locked-down profile. The main picture didn’t even give me any clues about him; it was just an elongated shadow on a graffiti wall. Cool and kind of artsy, but not exactly a treasure trove of valuable information.
“So,” I say, sighing as I turn around and put my back to the locker. “You know how I’ve been volunteering at the elementary school on Mondays and Wednesdays?”
They nod in unison.
“I’ve been working with Sebastian’s little brother.”
Daphne’s expression wavers. “So, then, why didn’t you mention it to us before?”
“Because it was no big deal.”
“Yet now you’re curious about him?” Audra concludes.
“Well, yes,” I admit, feeling something tug inside of me. “Did you know that Sebastian is raising his little brother on his own? How does that work? When does he have time to study or hang out with his friends? And how do you think they support themselves? Do they have money or… I don’t know… he must have a job, right?”
“I think he works down at Kane’s,” my sister offers.
“The hardware store?”
“Uh-huh. Spencer and I stopped there last weekend so he could pick up a refrigerator light bulb for his mom and Bash was behind the paint counter,” she explains. “When we left, Spencer mentioned that he probably works there just so he has access to the cans of spray paint.”
I shake my head in confusion. “Why would he want spray paint?”
Daphne leans in and confides, “You know, for huffing. That’s how they do it.”
“He’s not like that,” I assure her.
“And how do you know what he’s like?” Audra asks with one eyebrow raised. “He missed almost three months of school last year. Rumor has it that he was expelled for cheatin’ and callin’ Mrs. Gardner an asshole. It was supposed to be permanent, but the administration ended up lettin’ him back in on a technicality.
“I heard he was gone because he got himself into big trouble with the police and was serving time in juvy,” Daphne says.
“Juvy? Really, Daphne? I think you’ve both been drinking a little too much of the Green Cove Kool-aid. Sebastian’s just not that way.” I don’t really know why I’m so quick to defend him. The last time he spoke to me, he practically chewed my head off and spit it out.
She shrugs. “Maybe you want to believe that because he’s hot.”
“Him being hot has nothing to do with it.”
“So you admit it?”
“Admit what?”
My sister’s smile goes nuclear. “That you think Bash Holbrook is hot”
“That’s not what I said.” Flustered, I drop my head and swallow. “If you could have seen the way he was with his little brother, you’d know that there’s no way he’s into drugs.”
“Maybe,” Audra says after a pause. “But I still think you’re crushin’ on him somethin’ serious. It’s actually kind of adorable. Amelia and Bash sittin’ in a tree—”
“Oh, good God,” I begin, searching for a way out of this conversation. “You two are off your rockers and I’d love to hang around and hear more of your crazy, but I’ve got to go or I’ll be late to class.”
As I zip up my bag and throw the strap over my shoulder, Daphne reminds me that I’m driving her home after school because she’ll have a couple hours to waste before the game. Without a word, I nod to her and dash down the hall, weaving in and out of the students moving to and from class. Along the way, I get a lot of smiles and friendly waves, but mostly people wanting something from me. Like Kara Hartman, who needs my approval on some form for the Homecoming committee and Brayden Wright, who goes into a rant about being out of shape from the summer and struggling to maintain strength in his backhand. What it comes down to is that he wants me to organize a voluntary practice schedule for the tennis team.
Fine, I tell him and rush off.
I’ll get right on that. You know, after I study for next week’s big calculus test and finish the essay for my Emory application and send out the requests for the senior class trip and double check to make sure that the Homecoming deejay knows that he’s not supposed to play anything by One Direction and confirm that Mr. Brickler has the money student council collected for flood relief.
It’s not until I’ve climbed two sets of stairs and reached D-hall that I finally slow down to catch my breath and realize that in my haste, I stowed my Spanish book in my locker but I never took my history book out.
“Crap on a cracker,” I mutter. Of course, I could just leave it, but I know Mrs. Turner. That woman is a stickler for the rules and she’s been known to mark off points for students who are unprepared for class. I’m left with two choices: being lost all hour and risk losing points for not having my book with me, or risk losing points for being late.
Decision made, I turn on my heels, bulldoze through the stairwell door and slam right into the person who is coming up the steps. There’s a muffled umph sound and a stack of books crashes to the ground.
“I’m so sorry!” Breathless, I drop to my knees to help gather up the fallen items.
“It’s okay,” a deep voice says. “I got it.”
I stop mid-reach and lift my face a long, long way up.
Even though I’m still a little dazed, the sight of Sebastian Holbrook’s steely eyes looking back causes my heart to spasm inside my chest.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I gasp, awkwardly unsticking the strands of hair that are caught on my orange blossom lip gloss. My face is so hot that I can feel the tickle of heat stretching to the back of my neck.
Sebastian picks up the last of his books and stands from a crouched position. As he holds out one hand it occurs to me that even though I’ve just bodychecked him and sent his stuff flying all over the stairwell, he doesn’t seem nearly as grumpy as the last time we interacted.
With my pulse going in overdrive, I repeat my apology and take his hand. Is it weird that I notice how warm and rough his skin is against my own? “I’m sorry. I swear I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“I don’t know about that,” he says, gently rel
easing his grip. Even though I’m up on both feet, I still barely reach up to his shoulders. “In class you bit your tongue and now this. You should probably be encased in body armor to be on the safe side.”
It takes me a second to understand that he’s only joking around. “Oh—” I manage a small laugh as I press myself against the wall of the stairwell for balance. “I guess I left my suit of armor at home today.”
He glances in the direction I was running. “So where’s the fire, Amelia Bright? Or are you hauling butt because you’re afraid of missing out on an extra credit opportunity?”
“I forgot my history book back in my locker and now I don’t think I can make it even if I run. Mrs. Turner is probably going to take away points from my grade.”
“AP American History, right? You’re lucky I haven’t been to my locker all morning because now you can borrow mine,” he says, holding out a familiar-looking book.
I raise an eyebrow. “You take AP History?”
“First period with Turner. Shocking they let in the riff-raff, huh?”
If it’s possible, my blush grows even fiercer. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t. Shit, that was a really bad joke. The thing is...” He blows out a gush of air and blinks away for a second, almost as if he’s nervous. “You’ve done some kind of job with Carter and instead of thanking you the other day, I acted like a jackass.”
“No, you were just—”
“A right jackass,” he finishes for me, his grey eyes connecting with mine. “And you didn’t deserve it.”
I look away and shake my head. “You don’t owe me anything if that’s what this is about. I volunteer at the elementary school because I want to, not because I’m trying to get people to loan me their schoolbooks.”
“Amelia,” he says my name slowly like he wants me to pay attention to what he’s about to say. “Stop arguing and just take it or you’re going to be late.”
My thoughts are in a messy tangle, but I’m able to manage a short nod. “Um, okay, thanks. But how will I get it back to you?”
For the first time, the corners of his lips curl upward. It’s such a drastic change to his hardened face that my pulse picks up and my stomach does this wild flip flop.
“Don’t worry,” he says, backing away from me. “I’ll find you.”
And then, just like that, he’s gone.
***
“What do you think about squirrels?” Daphne asks me as we step into the sunlight.
“Squirrels?”
“Yes,” she answers, thumbing her phone screen. “Have you ever heard of an albino squirrel?”
“Ummm…” What is she talking about?
School got out a few minutes ago and Daphne and I have already visited our lockers and now we’re cutting across the courtyard to get to the parking lot for the daily afterschool gridlock. I’m trying not to be obvious about it, but I’m definitely keeping an eye out for Sebastian.
I’ll find you, he’d said. But that was hours ago and I haven’t seen him since. I guess there goes my theory that he’s suddenly everywhere.
Daphne shoves her phone in my face. “Look at this.”
Distracted, my gaze flicks to the phone. “Nice.”
“Nice? Amelia, what is your deal right now?” Her tone is indignant. “I just showed you the cutest creature I’ve ever seen and you called it nice. Look at that fluffy tail! That deserves more than nice.”
I check the phone again. “Daphne, that looks like a white rat.”
“I already told you it’s an albino squirrel.”
“So, basically a white rat,” I respond, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
She taps the phone for emphasis. “This is not a white rat, okay? These little guys are sort of a big deal in Olney, Illinois.”
“Uh-huh.” I’m not sure where she’s going with this.
“There are, like, laws preventing tourists from taking them out of the state and everything.”
“Wow, that’s really cool,” I say in a perfect monotone.
“Whatever,” she says, shaking her head. The black and gold ribbons that are holding her hair back ripple over her shoulders. “I’m adding Olney to my map as soon as I get home.”
My sister has a map tacked up on a bulletin board in her room and whenever she finds a place she wants to visit on her ideal summer road trip, she marks it with one of those tiny post-it strips. At this point, the map is so covered in brightly colored paper it looks like a flattened piñata.
“Is this about earlier?” she asks, latching onto my arm and pulling me in the direction of our car.
I give her a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”
“The Bash Holbrook thing?”
“No, because I already told you and Audra that there is no thing.”
“So you’re saying that you don’t want me to tell you that he’s waiting by the car or that he’s looking directly at you?”
My breath hitches and I lift my head. Sure enough, Sebastian is there, leaning back against our silver Prius with both arms crossed over his chest.
When he sees me notice him, he straightens and I catch the faintest of smiles. In the bright afternoon light, his grey eyes look almost blue, and for a moment, I lose myself in them. Then I remember that he’s probably just waiting for me to give him back his book and the whole scene reshapes itself in my head.
“I borrowed his history book today,” I whisper to Daphne.
She only allows surprise to register on her face for a half a second. Then she squeezes my upper arm and says, “I’m going to go find Spencer for a quick minute while you go on over there and play pretty.”
Panic turns my mouth dry. “Don’t go.”
“Why not? Are you scared?”
“Maybe,” I admit.
“Well,” Daphne reasons, “usually if you’re scared of something, that’s a sign that it’s worth doing.”
What kind of crazy logic is that? “I have no idea what I’m going to say to him.”
“You’re probably going to thank him for giving you the book.”
“And then?”
She smiles and gives me a little shove. “The rest is up to you.”
Great. I keep my head down as I dig into my bag and find the book. When I judge I’m a reasonable distance away, I pick up my gaze and force words out of my mouth. “Here’s your book. And—uh—thank you so much. You were a lifesaver today.”
“That means that you made it to class on time?” he asks, taking the book out of my hands.
“Just barely.”
“And you learned everything there is to know about U.S. and Mexican relations during the 1830s?”
“Uh-huh.” What I don’t tell him is that I’ll have to review the section tonight because I spent most of the history period flipping through his book, studying the tiny ink drawings he’s made on the margins of the pages. “Seriously, I appreciate it. I hate being late and I hate not being ready for class.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “I kind of picked up on that.”
“Right,” I say because I can’t come up with anything else. Then we stand there just staring at each other and breathing and hovering. God, I wish I were better at this.
Finally, Sebastian tips his stubbly chin a little and says, “So, what I was saying earlier—about that day at the elementary school?”
“Uh-huh?”
He shifts his weight onto one foot, looking uncomfortable. One hand is holding the history book, but the other gets shoved into the pocket of his jeans. “I’m sorry, Amelia.”
I shake my head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But I do worry about it. Carter has come a long way and you didn’t deserve the heap of shit I shoveled on you. I was having a bad day and I took it out on the wrong person.”
“I get it.”
“Do you?” The question scratches at something below the surface, something beyond what he’s saying out loud.
Sudd
enly, I want to ask him about the drawings in his book and his little brother and the words he’s written on his shoes.
I want to tell him I remember the second grade when he colored me a sympathy card the day I missed school for my grandfather’s funeral.
And I want him to know that there are times I think of our middle school trip to the Gibbes Museum in Charleston, and how all the other boys laughed and turned everything into jokes punctuated with farting noises. But I remember that he was the one who studied the paintings the most.
Yet, standing here on the sun-beaten asphalt of the school parking lot, I don’t know how to say any of this. It’s like the words are trapped somewhere between my brain and my mouth and before I can work it all out, Daphne is by my side in her cheer get-up and the moment is gone. I’ve missed my chance.
“I’ll see you ‘round, Amelia,” Sebastian says as he stuffs the book into a messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. “You have a good weekend.”
“Sure thing.”
When he’s out of earshot, Daphne comments, “At least you talked to him.”
“Um, if you call stringing a few words together talking then I guess so.” I groan and turn toward the driver’s side of our car. “Daphne, I sounded like I fell out of the stupid tree and hit every single branch on the way down. It was completely miserable.”
She puts her arm around my back and expertly plucks the car keys out of my right hand. “Nope. It was progress.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Bash
Bash: How is he?
I send the text off to my Aunt Denise and wait with the phone in the palm of my hand even though there’s a handwritten sign taped to the backside of the counter threatening employees not to use phones while at work. The hardware store is in a mid-afternoon lull and there’s little chance of me getting caught because Ron, my boss, is in the back guzzling down a bottle of Tennessee whiskey like usual.
Denise: Carter is fine. He’s outside playing catch with Mike. We’re taking him for cheeseburgers and a movie tonight and we’ll see you tomorrow! Thanks for letting him stay over. You know we love having him.
The Bright Effect Page 4
