The bell rang, and I kept my head down as I slowly packed up my things. Students spilled out of the classroom quickly; however, someone lingered behind me.
"Harlow! What are you doing this Saturday night?" Riley asked, leaning forward from his desk so that his head was just behind my left shoulder.
"That depends…it's forever away. What's going on?"
"Party at my place, tell Jake. He knows where it is. Starts at 9." Riley grinned.
"Is this party going to be a 'my parents are home and in the basement' party, or is it going to be a party?" I asked skeptically.
"Do you even need to ask?" Riley grinned, standing up. "Hope to see you there," he added before walking off.
I watched him leave the classroom and glanced over to Mr. Bentley's desk. He was leaning back slightly, arms crossed and looking straight at me, his brows slightly furrowed.
I grabbed my bag and stood up, walking over to him. He kept his eyes on me the whole time, and I felt my heart racing, only in a good way…not like last night.
"Well, you couldn't have hated it that much. You gave me an A," I drawled, giving him a half smile and raising one eyebrow. He smiled.
"That's not why I asked to see you," he said, leaning forward slightly. I kept my expression even and tried to tell myself that he wasn't saying what I thought he was saying, what I wanted him to say.
"Why did you ask to see me?"
"I wanted to tell you that you write beautifully and articulately. You have a real talent and I'm looking forward to reading more of your work," Mr. Bentley said sincerely, his eyes meeting my gaze and holding it. There was meaning behind his words that I couldn't decipher, and he was wearing a secretive, sincere smile. Normally, I was very good at reading guys, but Iain Bentley was different. "Have you thought about a career in writing?"
His words had humbled me. "Thank you…" I didn't know what to say, for once. I hadn't expected him to enjoy my essay that much. I hadn't expected him to have me stay after class just so he could tell me I had talent. It was the first time that someone had actually said that to me, and meant it. Then and again…it was the first time I had been really open like that. "Yes, I've thought about becoming a writer...maybe some day."
"No problem, you'd be very good at it." Mr. Bentley said. I smiled and looked away. "I also wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about the passing of your friend. That couldn't have been easy for you. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate. Unfortunately, I know a thing or two about losing a friend…"
I looked back at his face, and he looked open and honest. "It sucked, but that's life. You live and you die. The ones you leave behind get to feel…left behind," I shrugged, feeling like my statement was more stupid than wise.
Mr. Bentley nodded thoughtfully. "That's true, but…like I said…I'm here."
"I'm fine," I smiled, and I found I was…with him around. "If that's all?"
"One more thing…" he said, giving me a sheepish half-grin. "Those tattoos…they sound…very interesting." His topic choice shocked me.
"You'll have to see them sometime," I replied coyly, raising an eyebrow and quickly making my sweeping exit. I tried to ignore the fluttering of my heart in my chest. I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath before I closed the door behind me, but it was impossible to tell if it was his or mine.
What are you doing, Harlow Jones? I demanded, instantly putting my hand on my forehead to massage my temples. The word FORBIDDEN danced across my mind in big bold letters. But suddenly, he didn't seem so forbidden…so unattainable. That both scared and thrilled me.
It was almost as if I couldn't control myself around him. I didn't let myself lose control, and if I found I was…I backed out. Or at least, I had learned to do that in recent years. Only what could I back out from? It wasn't as if Mr. Bentley and I were…involved. I just had a massive, irresistible attraction to him. He just set me on fire every time he looked at me. He was so close yet so far. I thought my crush was an unattainable dream, but now I wasn't so sure. Iain seemed to want me. After all, dreams can and do come true…for some people. Not necessarily for me.
* * * *
On weekends, I usually worked the morning shift on Saturday and the evening shift on Sunday so that I could have Saturday night to cause mayhem. Since moving, my social life wasn't as booming as it had been, and the only mayhem I got into was reading books or writing in my room. I knew my staying at home every weekend actually concerned my mom. When Lauren was alive, we were out all the time.
I hadn't really wanted to go to Riley's party at all, but I was so bored and tired of not doing anything. As much as I hated people, I hated constantly being alone too. I hadn't been to a party since Lauren had died, and it was surreal getting ready without her by my side, competing for more bathroom counter space to lay her makeup out on.
I dressed in a pair of my favourite ripped faded dark denim jeans and the corset style top that Lauren had picked out for me during one of our shopping trips. My mother hated it, especially now that she was married to such a religious nut.
"Are you going out dressed like that?" she asked, when I came into the front hall, the shock evident on her delicate features. I grabbed my coat and high heeled shit kickers.
"Yup," I answered simply, pulling my long dark hair out from under my jacket.
"That sends the wrong message….the wrong kind of guy..."
"It's a little late for you to be protecting me from 'the wrong kind of guy,' isn't it Mom?" I snapped, my words harsh. Mom flinched at my voice, almost shrinking. She opened her mouth to reply, but a horn sounding from the driveway cut her off.
"I've got to go," I said, feeling guilty. "See you later…"
I don't know why I couldn't apologize to her. I don't know why I blamed her for all the things that she hadn't been able to shelter and protect me from, but I did. It was impossible to ignore those feelings too, not when they were constantly just below the surface. A small part of me feared that she blamed me for what happened with Rodney, although she'd never even given the slightest hint toward that.
I thought about all that as I walked toward the old beat-up Jeep Jake was driving. He'd forced Cory and Troy into the back seat so I could ride shotgun.
"Before I get in," I said, extremely seriously, standing in the driveway and holding the passenger door open. "If you're going to drink tonight, or get stoned beyond belief, you have to tell me."
"Don't worry about it," Jake assured me. "I don't drink, and I won't be getting stoned. I'm going tonight to make a profit."
"Okay," I could believe that…maybe. And even if he did, I was resourceful. Since the accident a year prior, I definitely knew better than to get in the car with someone who'd been drinking or doing drugs ever again, even if it was 'just pot.'
I jumped inside and buckled up, and Jake drove to the rich end of town. Huge houses were tucked away into the massive hill that the rest of the town had affectionately named "Snob Hill." The house where Riley lived was fairly huge and very new and jam packed full of people already.
"He always says invite only, but everyone always comes from our school and the surrounding schools," Jake explained, motioning toward the house with his head. He found parking and we piled out of the Jeep. I took a steadying breath, hoping my nervousness wasn't showing on my face. I had a reputation to uphold.
I tucked my hands into my leather jacket and followed the guys up the perfectly manicured lawn and down an impeccable walkway. Music was booming from the doorway, and people kept streaming inside.
"Harlow! You're here! Ehhh Jake! You're here too!" Riley's voice was even louder than the music, and it was the first thing that greeted us when we walked into his massive foyer. He threw a heavy arm around my shoulder in a drunkenly friendly manner. "And then you two…whatever your names are!" Riley was clearly wasted already, and it wasn't even 10 p.m. yet. Classy.
"Hey Riley." Jake nodded.
"Harlow, do you want a drink?" Riley shouted over the music, shaking me w
ith almost every word. I shook my head, lifting his arm off my shoulders. I didn't drink, at least not with already drunk high school students in an atmosphere like this. Not since the accident. Why did I come again? I thought, trying to hide my uneasiness.
"Nah, but I will have a joint," I said out loud instead, looking at Jake. He nodded and we made our way to the back patio, with Cory and Troy following behind us.
"Suit yourselves! Have fun!" Riley shouted after us, his red cup sloshing liquid out all over his hand. He didn't even seem to notice and was already approaching another group of girls.
It was slightly quieter outside on the patio, but not by much. Loud, drunk kids were everywhere. I stayed out back with the stoners, laughing it up. I wasn't comfortable, but I wasn't about to let them know it. But being uncomfortable meant that I was aware of my surroundings. I barely smoked anything, and I only drank from a water bottle that I'd brought to the party.
About two hours after we got there, I went inside to try to find the bathroom. Riley cornered me in the hallway, holding a red cup.
"Take this!" he slurred, shoving it at me. I smiled sweetly and took the red cup. He then proceeded to yap at me for 10 minutes while I tried to edge around him.
"Thanks, Riley. But I need to use the washroom…is it upstairs?" I asked. He nodded.
"It's on the right, with the toilet. Want me to walk you up?"
"I'm sure I can find it…I'll see you in a bit," I waved him away, still holding the red cup.
As I headed toward the bathroom, I heard male laughter and crying coming from one of the bedrooms across the hall. My attention snapped to the door, and I went to take a step toward it. I could hear a female begging and a guy's voice gruffly telling her to shut up.
"No!" she said, more forcefully this time. I heard the sound of skin hitting skin, and her whimper.
A bad feeling in my stomach welled. The hairs raised on the nape of my neck, and I was instantly transported back to the night when my ex-boyfriend and his friends had drugged me. The girl whimpered again, then her whimper became muffled, as if someone was covering her mouth.
"Shut up, bitch! If you make another sound, you'll regret it. You know what I can do to you, easily," the guy's voice said harshly. I stepped toward the door, my hand hovering over the knob. My heart was racing. I knew exactly what was going on behind the door, and although I wanted to burst into the room and stop it from happening, I hesitated. My fear kept me in place a moment too long. I heard the guy moan in pleasure, which prompted me to finally break free of the chains of fear. My hand shook as I opened the door. I forcefully flung it wide, and it clattered with a bang against the door stopper.
I didn't really know what to do, so I instinctively started acting drunk. "Oops, sorry, this isn't the bathroom," my giggle was a little too high, a little too fake, but it did the trick. I put a hand over my mouth and staggered a bit to buy myself some time as I assessed my surroundings and searched for some kind of weapon in case things got ugly. I quickly spotted a bat leaning against the wall.
The big, stocky guy on the bed whipped around to stare at me. He looked at the red cup in my hand, and a sly smile pasted across his Hollywood features. He would have been semi-attractive, but all I could see was the girl underneath him. It was Jenna, from my English class. Tears were streaming down her face, mixing in with the snot from her nose. She was panicked, and looking at me with wide, fear-filled eyes. Her cheek was red, as if she'd been struck. Her underwear was around her ankles and her skirt lifted up. The big stocky guy was rolling off the bed, tucking himself back in his jeans, still looking at me with that sly sneer. A wave of nausea and rage hit me.
"A little lost, are we?" the guy smirked, standing up and walking slowly toward me. He was tall, much taller than I was, and a lot stronger.
Instantly I threw the cup down, spilling its entire contents all over the pristine white carpet, and grabbed the bat, lifting it with both my hands. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Whoa…easy there." The guy mockingly raised his hands. I glared hard at him. He was had muscles that no teen guy should have. He definitely didn't look like a high school student. His black hair was a little longer, tight curls close to his head. I stole a look at Jenna. She was trying to dress herself with trembling arms.
"Get the fuck out of here!" I raised my voice, the rage I was feeling keeping it steady, although inwardly, I was shaking like a leaf.
"Nah, I don't think we will. See, you intruded on us; we were just having a good time," he said, taking a step toward me. "I think you should leave."
"I'm not leaving, and she doesn't look like she's having a good time with you," I said, looking at Jenna again. Fresh tears were pouring down her cheeks. Her right cheekbone was beginning to bruise. I looked back at the guy, my hands clammy as he kept walking toward me. "Take one more step, and I'll hit you with this."
"You wouldn't dare," the guy laughed, throwing his head back. He kept walking, and I swung the bat. It connected with his knee. He buckled, shock crossing his features as he fell to his knees. The shock was quickly replaced with rage.
"You stupid bitch!" he roared, somehow managing to get back to his feet and lunge at me.
I tried to swing the bat at the last minute to hit him again, but he was too quick, his body smashed into mine and I fell back against the wall. The impact made me bite my tongue and my vision wavered as I hit my head against the wall. The bat dropped from my hands. Frantically, I scratched at his face. He punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I kicked my knee up and it collided with his precious family jewels.
"What the fuck is going on in here?" boomed a voice from behind me. I tried to turn my head, but it spun unpleasantly. "You need to get the hell out of here before I call the cops." Jake stood in the doorway, eyes blazing with anger.
"I'll find you," the stocky guy hissed in my ear, leaning forward to lick my face. "And I'll fucking finish this, bitch." I spit at him as he shoved me back.
"Get out now!" Jake roared angrily. He'd managed to pick up the bat. I wavered against the wall, disoriented. The guy took another look at me, then shrugged.
"Whatever man," he said, leaving the room as if he hadn't just raped a girl and nearly beat the crap out of me. Jake was at my side, offering his arm out to steady me.
"Are you okay?!" Jake demanded. "Riley said you came upstairs, I came to find you…we were gonna bail…"
"I'm fine," I muttered, my head still spinning slightly. I ignored the unpleasant sensation and forced myself to stand up straight…with a little assistance from Jake. I don't think he even realized that someone else was in the room. I quickly went over to the bed where Jenna was sitting, her legs drawn up and her arms tightly around them. Her inner thighs were covered in dry blood.
"Oh my god," Jake managed, quickly averting his eyes to offer Jenna what privacy he could. She didn't even seem to notice him though; she was sobbing hysterically and shaking.
"Can you go and get me a cold wash cloth and some water?" I asked, not thinking about myself. I leaned toward Jenna, gently brushing back her hair from her sweaty forehead.
"I didn't want to..." Jenna was hiccuping. "I wanted to save myself."
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I gently rubbed her back as she cried, my heart breaking for her. By the time Jake returned with a cloth and a glass of water, Jenna was more aware. She'd stopped talking, although she was still shaking like a leaf as silent tears streaked down her face.
"We need to call an ambulance, or take her to the hospital," I said.
"No!" she weakly cried. "D-don't." She looked at me, fearful, then she looked at Jake. Her face was red from embarrassment and shame.
"I know you're scared…but you should go," I told her, gently brushing her hair from her face again. "You did nothing wrong."
"No," she said, firmer this time. "I'll get into trouble. I'm not supposed to be out."
I bit my lip, glancing back at Jake. He shrugged…he didn't know what to do eithe
r.
"Jenna…we need to report this," I told her, keeping my tone gentle but persuasive. She looked at me as if I was insanely stupid.
"Do you even know who that was?" she demanded, fresh tears pouring down her face.
"No…"
"Andrew Cooper," Jenna said, her voice shaking. Jake made a sound of recognition, as if he knew the name. I looked toward him for an explanation, as it was clear Jenna wasn't going to elaborate.
"His dad is the Chief of Police," Jake answered my unasked question.
"I just want to go home," Jenna said, fresh tears streaming down her face. My heart ached, the situation dredging up an all too familiar past.
Collide Page 4
