Midnight Secrets

by Rita Stradling

  She tilted her head to the side, letting her strawberry-blond hair cascade over her shoulder. “Are you sure? I could just pop over there and come right back.”

  I shook my head. “I should probably get some sleep. This might be my only chance. I also wanted to hand write up a book review, so that I can type it out quickly at the library.”

  “Why don’t you just use your phone?” Char lifted her eyes to the ceiling and laughed. “Or I have a laptop. I could bring it by here tomorrow.”

  Yep. Sure. Of course, she’d be thrilled to bring it by here tomorrow and then find some excuse to head off to hang out with Justin. Ugh. I hated these shitty thoughts. I wanted her to go so I could just focus on good, non-Charlotte, non-Justin-Roberts related things — like peanut butter. I’d really love to think about the glories of peanut butter right now. Maybe I was misreading the situation. Maybe the jerk’s insinuation had just gotten into my mind. But it wasn’t just in my head now. I felt Charlotte’s betrayal in my gut. I wanted her gone.

  “Thanks, but I’m planning on heading into town tomorrow after I visit my mom. I want to check out the uptown library and explore this side of Brightside. I’d love company, though . . .” I added because I obviously loved to torture myself emotionally.

  She wrinkled up her nose. “There’s really not much there right now. It’s too hot, and no one goes there during the day. You live in one of the most interesting places there is in the whole town. Why don’t you just call when you’re back, and I’ll swing by?”

  Yeah, no. Hell no. But after this morning and last night, I didn’t have the energy to have a no-holds-barred, accusation-slinging showdown with my former life-long best friend. “To be honest, Charlotte,” I said, “I just can’t even think straight right now. I’ll talk to you later when I have a brain again.”

  She was already halfway to the exit, and I walked over, holding the heavy wood door open.

  “I love you!” Char said as she again threw her arms around me and her full body weight against mine.

  “Yeah.”

  I just wasn’t really feeling I love you, too.

  She didn’t notice though, dashing off down the stairs and disappearing through the front door.

  Backing into the unit, I scooped up my phone, thumbed through my contacts, and blocked Char’s number. There was a high probability that I’d give in and unblock her before she noticed, but it felt cathartic to do at this moment.

  It sucked that Char wasn’t the person I believed she was; it really freaking sucked.

  After showering off and changing, I took what was supposed to be a stress-relieving inventory of everything we had in the kitchen, counting the food boxes and supplies in the fridge. The fact that we probably only had three days’ worth of supplies did absolutely nothing to make me feel better, though, so I focused on making my grandmother a sandwich instead.

  Ham sandwich and plate in hand, I did the long walk around the pool house and up the access road toward the mansion. A slow Irish-punk ballad played in my earphones, and I was so wrapped up in the music that when I turned the corner to walk around the front of the mansion, I almost ran smack dab into a broad chest.

  “Shit!” I said, yanking my earbuds out of my ears and looking up . . . and then up some more into the face of a guy about my age. “Holy smokes you’re huge.” The guy was probably six foot three or four and wider than the average high school linebacker. A huge smile lit across his face, showing two prominent dimples, and I realized that other than his sheer mass, he didn’t look all that intimidating. He was handsome with short cropped hair and dark eyes that looked like they were laughing, though I wasn’t sure what at. Probably me. “Sorry, that was rude.”

  “It’s cool,” he said, smiling through the words. “Are you April, Cleo’s daughter?”

  “Nope, don’t know a Cleo. I do know a Chloe.” I held up the plate. “This is actually a ham on rye for a Chloe, a Chloe who is my grandmother. Grandmother, as in she birthed my mother, who then birthed me. And my mother named me January.”

  His smile increased at my rude outburst, and he started chuckling. “Okay, I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “I’m so sorry. Again, with the rudeness. That wasn’t whatsoever for you.”

  “It’s okay. I get it. Mrs. Roberts still calls me Walter, even though I’ve known her for three years, and I mow her lawn every Sunday.”

  “Oh.” Heat licked up my cheeks as I realized that not only was I telling off a complete stranger who did nothing, he wasn’t even one of the rich jerks. He was just like me. Now that I was paying attention, the guy was wearing a uniform that said Brightside Hills Golf Club Staff, and his khaki pants had fresh grass stains on the knees.”

  “Your name is Lucas Baldwin, right? She called you Walter last night too. The tutor?” I bit my lip before adding, “I really am sorry for being an asshole.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. I get yelled at all day by old men. Having a beautiful chick with a sandwich yell at me feels like a vacation. It’s the heat. It makes drunk, rich guys take golf very seriously. Anyway, yep, I’m Lucas, I’ve been sent to find and tutor you, but no one seems to know your phone number, and I guess they didn’t even think to ask your grandmother Chloe.”

  “She wouldn’t have given it out, anyway.” I rolled onto my toes and back, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable because after the argument with Justin this morning, the scholarship sounded less and less tempting. Cicadas buzzed from the trees as I stood there, thinking. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, and even though we stood under the shade of another oak, the heat was beginning to feel oppressive. When the fact that we were standing here and not talking was really beginning to feel awkward, I finally came out with, “I’m so sorry, I think that the Robertses wasted your time. I’m probably just going to go to Hampton Public. That’s where I’m enrolled.”

  “You’re going to say no to someone who wants to give you a one-hundred-thousand-dollar scholarship to one of the best private high schools in the world?” He was still smiling, but he lifted his dark brows, his expression clearly saying that I was an idiot. “Do you have any idea how many hairy, white ass cheeks I had to kiss to get this scholarship renewed every year after my trial?” He chuckled, but he also only half sounded like he was kidding, like maybe he literally had to kiss a cheek.

  “To be honest, I’m pretty sure that I’m going to get enough of the Justin Roberts of the world right here. Going to a school with regular people seems like the only possible way I’ll keep my sanity.” Realizing how awful that sounded, I rushed to add, “I just can’t stop putting my foot in my mouth. I don’t mean that you’re not regular — you seem really cool. But I’ve only been at the Roberts Mansion for one day, and already, I feel like running for my life.”

  “I swear it gets better.” Lucas tilted his head back and forth, considering me. “Okay, so this is how it is at Blackburn Academy: there are eleven of us scholarship kids going into our senior year. We look out for each other, and I mean we stick together. If one of us falls behind, the others make it their responsibility to help them catch up. So, just know that if you do decide to go to Blackburn, you wouldn’t be alone there.”

  “Are you sure you should even be trying to convince me? I might be a complete pain in the ass,” I said, giving him a little grimace.

  He nodded to my plate. “You say while you carry your grandmother up a ham on rye. Just think about it. And save my number for when you change your mind. There are only eight days until the trials, so don’t take too long.”

  Grudgingly, I handed over the plate and took down his number for good measure.

  He immediately texted me with I can already tell you’re going to go for it.

  “I’m going to really regret giving you my number, aren’t I, Lucas?”

  Smiling wide and showing off his dimples, he handed me back my plate and said, “Giving me your number might have been one of the best decisions you made in your life.”

  “Ha,
sure thing, Walter,” I said with a wink.

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Just you wait, April. Call me.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  A day and a half later, I sat across from my grandmother, finishing the last words of my painstaking story about Char and her mother between bites of potpie. We spent the morning visiting my mother at her rehabilitation center, where there was an all-out fight before Mom declared that Nana would no longer be allowed in to see her. After the long, trying day, my grandmother had suggested we turn our moods around by doing our hair and putting on sundresses for dinner. We might be eating out at the thriftiest restaurant in town, but we were going to look fabulous doing it.

  The patrons of Alfred’s Country Diner talked loudly around us as a big jukebox played songs from the 1950s. Families laughed, glasses clinked, and I felt happy that we were back on our side of Brightside.

  The waitstaff chatted endlessly with the patrons, but when the steaming food finally arrived, it was so comforting, I felt it all the way to my toes. Nana kept prodding me to share my feelings, and that was when the story about the Russells and Char came out.

  My grandmother sat quietly, watching me with her tired brown eyes as she neatly forked bites of her beef potpie into her mouth.

  “So . . .” I said after I gave her a blow-by-blow of pretty much every single expression Char and I shared between us, “What should we do?”

  Nana laid down her fork and wiped her eyes with rough, calloused fingers. “Do about what, honey?”

  “Do about them . . .” I gestured out the window toward the great beyond where the Russells were probably plotting out another scheme. “Should we say something? Call them out?”

  Nana sighed. She dropped her hands and gave me an apologetic smile. “Honey, on the way home, we’re going to buy the Russells a thank you card. And then tonight, I’m going to write them a personal note thanking them so much for thinking of us. I’ll ask you to add your signature, but I won’t expect it.”

  Fork halfway to my mouth, I froze. “You got the part where they think we’re tools, right?”

  “I know this will be hard for you to understand . . .” she blew out a heavy breath. “If someone gives you a hundred dollars, you thank them. It doesn’t matter why they gave you the money — your family has food.”

  “Nana.” I pointed at her with my fork. “I can think of like a million ways that wouldn’t be the case. What if that hundred-dollar bill was from a bank robbery and it was a marked bill? What if it was stolen off a corpse after a murder and taking it makes you the prime suspect?”

  She just gave me an unamused look that clearly said that I was being silly. In a lot of ways, Nana and I were still getting to know each other. If I’d told my mother that story, she’d have thrown down some of her liquor money and bought a stack of cartons to egg the Russells’ house. Not that I would ever vandalize personal property, but I took a sort of grim comfort in the fact that my mother would have been on the warpath.

  I leaned back into the vinyl red booth seat, regarding Nana. “So, you want me to just fake it with Char, is that what you’re saying?”

  “No. I’m not asking you to fake anything. I’m asking you to be grateful for what we have now, but at the same time, I don’t want you to keep trusting someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Just say thank you and cut her off.” Why did that idea hurt so much? “I guess I could just avoid her forever until we got into that ex-friend stage where we give each other extremely awkward waves or ignore one another’s existence while feeling our hearts squeezed in invisible fists.”

  Nana continued to give me that lazy eyelid look that clearly communicated that I was being ridiculous. “Or you could just be honest with your friend about your feelings and see what happens. It sounds like you’re pushing the situation to its worst possible outcome because you’re afraid of showing your feelings.”

  I pointed my fork at her again. “You are way too hot of a grandmother to be this sage. Seriously, when are you going to get out on the town to meet suitors? I’ve already started up my application and screening process. Don’t worry. It’s just a short survey to establish all of these prospective love interests’ intentions.”

  “Oh, come on, be serious, January.” A small smile touched her lips, and she dug into her beef pie, probably to cover her bashfulness.

  “I am serious. You’re like a grandmother ten. They just need to pass my strict approval process and not keep you out past . . .” I waved my hands in the air “ . . . nine-ish.”

  She squinted one eye at me. “How did we somehow get from talking about you to about me?”

  Damn it. She was too smart.

  She wiped the sides of her mouth with a napkin and then tidied her plates, setting everything to the side and splaying her fingers across the empty table top. Obviously, whatever she was going to say, it was stack-your-plate-to-the-side serious. Lifting her gaze, she settled me with another one of her sage stares. “I will make a deal with you, January. If you take these entrance trials to go to Blackburn Academy, I will go to a dance hall.”

  She was serious.

  “And you’ll let your hair down and dance with potential love interests?”

  She pursed her lips, smiling just the tiniest bit. “If you go with me, I will dance with someone, maybe more than one someone.”

  All my life, Nana had always seemed so fundamentally lonely, so her searching for a hot date just became something I continually teased her about, hoping that she’d one day just get annoyed enough to give in and find happiness.

  It looked like she was finally caving.

  With terms.

  Well played, Nana. Well played.

  “You make it very tempting,” I said on a sigh.

  Carefully, my grandmother took change and worn bills out of her wallet and watched me like a hawk as I scooted out of the booth. “You want to tell me what’s really scaring you about this scholarship?”

  “I don’t know, Nana,” I said on a sigh as we headed out of the restaurant. “On the surface, it sounds amazing — going to one year of an elite high school and suddenly having a real shot at top-tier universities and having a team of people who would support me rather than see me fail. It sounds way too good to be true.”

  I’d hoped she would drop it, but as we walked through the scorching night to our van, the issue might as well as have been buzzing between us. I could feel it clinging to our silence. We drove down the deserted streets, past a long line of factories, and a ball of tension kept growing in my stomach. Finally, I just gave in and blurted out, “I don’t want to let the Roberts family own us.”

  “Own us?” she sounded shocked, but I couldn’t read her expression. Ever since I became a vampire, people glowed in the darkness. It was both beautiful and a curse, because in really dim illumination, like we were in now, my grandmother’s glow made it impossible to read the emotions on her face.

  “So, I walked in there, and she just handed me the scholarship like it was nothing, but from Lucas and Mr. Roberts’ reaction, it’s a huge deal. Gina Roberts knows nothing about me more than my astrological sign. But, for some reason, she had a prophecy that she should hand me a one-hundred-thousand-dollar scholarship. Does that make sense to you?”

  “It makes sense to me that you’re getting a break. It’s a long time coming, honey, and a higher force is making it happen.”

  “Nana,” I whispered as I pushed my head back into the headrest. “Do you really think these people got this filthy rich by giving breaks to poor, random seventeen-year-olds? The only reason I can think to justify Mrs. Roberts wanting to give me the scholarship is because we’re under her power. Meaning that the moment I don’t do everything they want, she’ll start to threaten your job.”

  My grandmother looked over, and oncoming headlights illuminated her sad expression for one moment before we were again plunged into darkness. “Honey, you have to give people the chance to prove themselves trustworthy. Otherwise, your life is go
ing to be very lonely.”

  “I do,” I whispered, hoping that it was true.

  “I’ve found that people like us get amazing opportunities rarely — if ever. And you can let it go and keep on keeping on the way we always have, that’s up to you. But the opportunity will go, and then it will be too late. Sometimes it’s worth the risk to just try. I’ll only be able to help you so much next year when you head off to college.”

  “Of course, Nana. I never expected you to help me at all.”

  “And, I don’t think the Robertses are the type of people who would do that. But, if they are, they’ll end up doing it to us whether it’s through the school scholarship or something else. The moment they threaten my job — I quit —” she cut off in a gasp as the van gave a loud banging sound and then the engine screeched once and died. The dashboard went out as the car rolled to a stop in the middle of the road, and everything went dark.

  Nana turned the key, and the car ignition revved several times, coughing and then again dying. As the headlights flickered off, the world came alive with colors. The pavement and buildings around us glowed in deep shades of blues, greens, and purples. Beside me, Nana stood out in bright yellows and reds, glowing from within. A bird soared across the darkness, trailing golden light. It was so beautiful that I ached to describe it to my nana. It had been easy to not tell my mother about being a vampire, but there were so many things I wanted to share with my grandmother, who had always been a steady, non-judgmental force in my life. But I made a promise.

  “All right, then.” Lifting my butt, I pulled out my cell and started an internet search for tow truck companies. Five minutes later, I was hanging up the phone on the third taxi operator after exhausting every other option in town. “This one quoted two hours. Looks like we’re going to be hitchhiking.”

  “No, we will not. We’ll either call the Russells or the Robertses. If we need to push the van to the side of the road and illegally park when they arrive, so be it.”