I screwed up.
As I ran to the kitchen, my father’s voice pounded in my head like a drum. This is all your fault. This is all your fault. I could only pray I hadn’t made it home too late.
When I skidded to a halt outside my kitchen doorway, the sight before me caused my blood to freeze in my veins. My heart felt like it stopped beating for several grueling seconds.
“What are you doing here?” I asked in shock before the fear drowned out all reason. “What the fuck happened?” I shouted. Blood covered my mother’s arm and the front of her nightgown, pooling on the floor around her. Nausea twisted my stomach into knots at the sight of it and I was transported back in time to that god-awful day years ago. This can’t be happening again, I thought. Please, God, don’t let it be happening again.
“I came to see you,” Freya spoke hurriedly. “She insisted on cooking. I tried to stop her but she broke a dish and cut her arm.”
It wasn’t what I had feared. It was just an accident. The relief that took hold of me only lasted for a split second before humiliation hammered into me like a battering ram. Freya was standing in my kitchen with my bleeding mother curled up at her feet. That humiliation quickly twisted itself into an emotion I had grown so used to over the years, the only defense mechanism I had…anger. It ran through my blood like fire as I pushed past the wide-eyed, frightened girl before me to tend to my mother.
“Christ, Mom. What were you thinking?” I seethed as I inspected the wound.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she cried as she leaned into me, letting me take all of her weight.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, trying my best to soothe the broken woman in my arms. For three years, our roles had been reversed. I was the caretaker. I was the one responsible for making sure my mother never lapsed into the darkness that had once threatened to take her away from me. It was days like this when it felt like it was all too much. But I was helpless against it. I couldn’t leave her to suffer. “It’s okay,” I repeated, patting her matted-down hair. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I was too focused to notice Freya scurrying to her feet as I stood, helping my frail mother up from the floor. It wasn’t until she spoke that I remembered she was even there. She’d seen my life at one of its lowest points. I never wanted her to know the truth. I couldn’t stand the thought of her looking at me differently. “Parker, I think she needs stitches.”
My head shot around, my eyes narrowing into furious slits. “Is that your professional opinion?” I spat out sarcastically. I knew I was directing all of my pain and anger at the wrong person, but I couldn’t control it. It was in moments like this when I felt the most lost. I didn’t know how to handle that feeling.
“No. I-I—”
I led Mom past her and out of the kitchen as I spoke over my shoulder. “Go home, Freya.” As we walked slowly up the stairs, I closed my eyes and prayed she’d actually listen. I was hanging from a fraying rope, fearing it was about to snap. I was going to lose it, and the last person I wanted to see me like that was her.
All I could do was stand there as they disappeared from my sight. What just happened? I thought as I sucked in a shaky breath. I took in the mess of glass and blood on the floor around me, thinking that I couldn’t leave it for Parker to clean up. On autopilot, I searched in cabinets for cleaning supplies. I found a broom and swept up all the glass. Under the sink, there was a bottle of antibacterial spray. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and began mopping up the blood on the floor. By the time I finished, Parker and his mother were still somewhere upstairs. Once the kitchen no longer held any signs of the earlier events, I started for the door, prepared to leave just as Parker had demanded. Several framed photos hung on the wall along the staircase as I made my way toward the front door, but there was one in particular that caught my eye, giving me pause.
I stepped closer to get a better look. The simple black frame held a picture of a younger, smiling Parker. He couldn’t have been any older than fifteen in the photo, but it was who he was with that had caught my attention. His arm was slung around a little boy who barely came up to Parker’s shoulders. They both had the exact same smile spread across their faces. The little boy looked to be about ten. He and Parker were standing on a beach with their backs to the water, their dark brown hair blown back from their faces by the wind. Reaching up, I pulled the frame from the wall so I could get a better look. Same hair, same smile, same deep, penetrating gaze. Was that Parker’s little brother? I didn’t even know he had a sibling. He never talked about a brother, so I’d just assumed he was an only child.
I was startled from my musings by Parker’s deep voice. “I told you to leave. What the fuck are you still doing here?”
I jerked around to see him standing there, arms crossed over his chest. His demeanor was anything but friendly. “I-I…” I stuttered, at a loss for how to deal with his volatile mood. “How’s your mom? Is she going to be okay?” I asked, clutching the frame tightly to my chest.
His gaze moved to the photo in my hands before darting back up to my face. His lids lowered into a glare as he snatched the frame from me and sneered, “I see you took the opportunity to snoop around.”
“What? No! Parker, I wasn’t snooping, I swear. I just…I cleaned the kitchen and was leaving when I…I saw the picture. I just wanted to make sure you and your mom were okay. I wasn’t trying to snoop.” My words ended on a whisper as I focused on the ground, unable to look at his bitter expression any longer.
“Well, we’re fine. You can go now.”
“Parker,” I stated exasperatedly. “She needs to go to the hospital. That cut probably needs stitches—”
“You think this is the first time I’ve had to take care of her like this? I know how to handle my mom, Freya, and I don’t need or want your fucking help! I want you to get the hell out of my house and mind your own damn business!”
I cringed, taking a step away from him and the hateful words he was spewing at me. “What happened to you?” I breathed. I wasn’t talking about the ordeal with his mother just minutes before. I knew there was more to him than he’d led me to believe. He was holding something back from me, something dark he seemed to be drowning in at that very moment.
“What happened to me is that a pain-in-the-ass little girl moved in next door and can’t stay out of shit that has nothing to do with her. I didn’t ask you to come here. I don’t want you here. Get a clue, Freya.”
“I just want to help. You can talk to me, Parker,” I insisted as I took a step closer, trying to give him some sort of comfort, but the harsh laughter that rumbled from his chest made me stop.
“You think you can help me? What a fucking joke!” he shouted, still laughing harshly. “I don’t want your help. All I want is for you to get out of my goddamned house and stay out of my business. You think just because we’ve been friends for five minutes that I’m gonna open up and pour my heart out to you?” He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief before crossing his arms over his chest and looking down his nose at me. “Newsflash: you’re nothing special, Freya. You aren’t going to magically cure me if that’s what you’ve got bouncing around in your pathetic head. You’re already fucked-up as it is, so what makes you think you can help anyone else?”
The breath whooshed from my lungs, leaving an intense ache in my chest. I knew he was just lashing out. I understood where the anger and pain were coming from, but that didn’t make the words hurt any less. The wound they created was deep, and at that very moment I couldn’t see anything past the pain Parker had intentionally caused in order to push me away. I was only able to rationalize how badly I needed out of that house.
My back straightened and my chin lifted slightly as I responded. “I got it, Parker. No worries. This fucked-up little girl won’t be bothering you anymore.”
I shoved past him and stormed out the door, never breaking stride as I hurried through the trees back to the security of my own home. I tried telling myself that Parker Owens could take his
words and choke on them, that he didn’t have the power to hurt me, that the tears on my cheeks had nothing to do with him. But if that were the truth, then why did my heart feel like it had just been torn in half inside my chest?
The day after the scene with Parker’s mom I moved around the house like a zombie as I prepared to step into the unknown. I honestly had no idea what to expect from Parker if or when I saw him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was going to have to grovel in the hopes of Mrs. Wilkins allowing an extension on the Crucible project Parker and I were supposed to work on together, I would have faked a migraine or something in order to stay home. As I walked through the hallways of the school, I moved at a snail’s pace, so uncomfortable with informing Mrs. Wilkins that I’d already managed to break one of her three rules only a month into the school year. I bypassed my locker, not once bothering to look up to see if Stella was waiting for me before heading toward my English class. As I stepped through the doorway, I saw Mrs. Wilkins sitting at her desk in all her 80s fashion regalia. I wasn’t fooled by the neon colors or shoulder pads. Even though she dressed ridiculously, she was hardcore when it came to teaching. I had no doubt she would make me suffer the consequences of having broken one of her three simple rules.
“Uh… Mrs. Wilkins?”
The older woman turned from her work to face me, peering over the top of her wire-framed glasses. “Yes, Miss Linden?”
“I…um, well, I need to talk to you about The Crucible project.”
“What about it?” she asked, lifting one of her heavily lined eyebrows.
“I…well…it didn’t…” I stuttered uncomfortably. The look on Mrs. Wilkins’ face spoke loud and clear: she was quickly growing annoyed with my rambling. There was no way I was getting an extension. I was going to fail.
“It what, Miss Linden?”
“It—”
“It’s right here.” I spun around just as Parker walked up to the desk and dropped a blue folder on the top. “Four pages, single-spaced and spell-checked. And it’s a piece of literary genius, if I do say so myself. A-plus quality work right there, Mrs. Wilkins. You’ll be so happy you’ll want to kiss me.”
Mrs. Wilkins rolled her eyes and let out a huff as I stood by in shell-shocked speechlessness. “You know that line you have a tendency to toe on a daily basis, Mr. Owens?”
“Yep, I’m familiar,” he answered casually, rocking back on his heels as he displayed that devilish smile, drawing my attention to his full bottom lip adorned with that silver ring. I tried my best not to be mesmerized by the sight of him pulling it between his teeth before he flicked his tongue against the metal of his piercing.
“Well, you just sprinted past it and went another hundred yards,” Mrs. Wilkins replied. “Do you think you could rein in your inappropriate behavior for just one class?”
Parker let out a dejected sigh and answered, “If I must,” before shooting her a wink.
“You must,” Mrs. Wilkins deadpanned. “Now please, go take your seats.”
Not having to be told twice, I turned quickly and headed for my desk, mindful of Parker’s eyes on me the entire time. I refused to look at him. Even though I was thankful he’d completed the assignment, saving me from the embarrassment of a failing grade so early in the school year, his words from that day in his house were still fresh in my mind, causing a sharp pain to bloom in my chest.
How did he do it? How could he bounce between emotions with so much ease? One moment he was spitting out hurtful words so jagged I could feel each one slice through me, and the next he was acting as though the painful scene had never happened. Being around him was like being stuck on a broken merry-go-round spinning round and round, completely out of control, making my head spin. He’d all but begged for my friendship, but the moment I got a peek behind that perfectly kept mask he had in place, he destroyed it. I’d already experienced too much pain in my life. I wouldn’t allow Parker Owens to cause any more.
As I took my seat, my eyes remained downcast, boring into the scratched surface of my desktop as he walked by. I felt a slight brush of wind as he passed but I refused to acknowledge how the scent of his cologne enveloped me and made my mind fuzzy. No, Parker Owens would not affect me. Maybe if I repeated that mantra enough times I could will it to be true.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he whispered as he took his seat right behind me. I had to clench my eyes shut against the onslaught of emotion just those two words evoked within me. When he realized I planned on facing forward and remaining silent, he continued. “Please talk to me, Freya. I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Before I had to think of formulating a response, my saving grace came flitting into the classroom, a mass of fiery curls bouncing up and down around her. I let out a relieved sigh as Stella took her seat. I turned to her with a bright smile that she matched instantly. Little did she know, my happiness stemmed more from having her as a buffer between Parker and me than it did anything else.
“Morning, sunshine,” she chirped happily.
“Morning, Spritely Stella,” I answered in return.
I felt Parker’s breath on my neck as he leaned in even closer. “So, you’ll talk to her but not me?”
Trying my hardest to suppress the shiver that shot down my spine at his closeness, I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply, holding it for a few seconds before finally releasing my breath. Stella’s curious gaze shifted back and forth between the two of us. “Am I missing something here?”
“Nope, not missing anything at all,” I spouted before Parker had a chance to open his mouth and state otherwise.
Turning back toward the front of the room, I did my best to tune out the conversations around me and ignore the questioning stares coming from Stella’s direction.
It was going to be a long day.
Biology turned out to be a million times more awkward than I thought it could have been. I’d breathed a sigh of relief when I walked into the room later that morning and saw Parker had yet to arrive. I’d quickly scurried back to my table and sat down next to Michael before Parker’s dumbass tablemate Seth had the chance to block my path.
“Hey, Freya.”
I looked over and smiled at the attractive blond boy sitting next to me. I couldn’t help but think of how cute he and Stella would look together. “Hey, Michael. How are you?”
“I’m good. Listen, I know we don’t know each other all that well, but I was kind of hoping I could ask you for a favor.”
That piqued my curiosity. “Sure, but I maintain the right to say no,” I teased. “What do you need?”
“Uh…” he looked down at his hands as he twisted his fingers together nervously. His cheeks had a pink hue to them as he turned back to me. “Do you…” He cleared his throat self-consciously. “Do you think you could, you know…maybe you could talk to Stella for me?”
A giddy smile spread across my lips and I couldn’t help but antagonize. “And what exactly do you want me to say?”
“Well…uh…” he stuttered adorably.
Seeing the pink on his cheeks turn to a bright red, I decided to take pity on him. “You like her, huh?”
“I-I…” He blew out a deep breath. “Yeah, I really like her.” He grinned. His shy smile was absolutely adorable. As I studied him, I decided he and Stella were adorably perfect for each other. I could picture them walking down the hall, hand in hand, smothering the area around them with adorableness. “Are you gonna help me out or keep making me sweat?”
I found myself laughing at Michael lightheartedly calling me out. “You know what? I think you might actually be good for her. How about this, instead of attempting to play messenger for the two of you, why don’t you just sit with us at lunch today?”
His lips quirked up, showing off the straight, white smile. He reached his hand out for me to shake. “I’ll take you up on that, Freya. Thanks.”
“No problem, Michael. You’re a pretty decent guy.”
He barked out a laugh. “I guess I’ll take that as a compli
ment. Try not to sound so shocked about it.”
I felt my guard lowering as Michael and I joked around. Surprisingly enough, as we talked, I found myself thinking he might just turn into a pretty good friend. That thought lessened some of the tension that had been sitting on my chest since the day before. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.
“Am I interrupting?” My head shot up to find Parker scowling down at Michael and me.
“Uh, hey, Parker,” Michael spoke uncomfortably. “What’s up?”
“You mind switching seats with me?”
“What? No!” I interrupted before Michael could answer. Parker ignored my protest and kept his focus on Michael.
“I don’t know,” Michael responded slowly, looking down the aisle at where Seth was staring back at us. “I don’t really get along with your buddy over there.”
“He’s not my buddy,” Parker answered.
“Since when?” I scoffed. “Isn’t Seth just another one of your little lackeys?”
Once again, Parker ignored me. He placed his clenched fists on the tabletop and leaned over Michael intimidatingly. “Come on, man. Do me a favor and switch me seats. I’ll owe you.”
“Michael, if you switch seats, I’ll kick your ass,” I threatened.
“If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass,” Parker countered.
Michael’s eyes bounced between us before he finally looked at me apologetically. “Sorry, Freya. But I’m pretty sure his ass-kicking would hurt more.”
“Traitor,” I hissed as Michael grabbed his stuff. “See if I help you now, you jerk!” I whisper-yelled as he hurried for the table at the front of the room.
Scattered Colors Page 10
