I walked through the rows of cars, craning my head this way and that, before I finally accepted defeat. Shane’s bike wasn’t there. It had been missing in the parking lot for the past three days now, and I was seriously worried about him. Nobody I knew had seen him since Wes and Nelson took him away for their “meeting”. When I asked Wes about it, he said that all they’d done was talk and that Shane was probably hiding at home with his tail between his legs, but the longer this went on, the antsier I felt.
I trudged up the gravel path to the school’s back doors, cursing the weather. I didn’t love the rain. I cursed myself even more for not getting Shane’s phone number before he went AWOL. Even more than that, I cursed Wes. His problem with Shane seemed to extend far beyond football and Rob, but I didn’t understand what about Shane could draw so much of his ire. He was a good guy. I knew he was. Why was everyone so determined to think otherwise?
Sopping wet, I made my way to my locker and started tugging off my coat. My hair was mostly dry underneath at least, though makeup bled down my damp face. I started fixing it in my locker mirror and was surprised to see Wes standing behind me.
“Jesus!” I jumped, turning to glare at him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Wes bared his teeth in what I’m sure he thought was a smile. Why did I get the feeling he enjoyed seeing me startled? He gave me a once over, returning his gaze to my eyes and winking.
“You’re all wet.”
I frowned and wrapped my arms around my chest. The coat had kept my upper half relatively dry, but my jeans were soaked through above my boots.
“Yeah. I just got back from the waterslides,” I deadpanned. “Wes, where’s Shane?”
Last time I asked him he got visibly irritated, enough so that I decided not to ask him again. I was tired of his bullshit, and I was tired of people underestimating me and thinking they could intimidate me.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Wes asked. “I already told you I don’t. What are you trying to say?”
“All I’m saying is that I haven’t seen him for days and you were cagey about your answer last time. I’m worried.”
Wes rolled his eyes and snorted. “Worried? Are you kidding me? That reprobate doesn’t deserve even an ounce of your concern. He’s probably in prison. Garbage does as garbage is.”
Even though Wes was sketchy about the “meeting”, he seemed to be telling the truth about not knowing where Shane was. Heavy on the “seemed to be”. As long as I’d known him, he’d been a horrible liar, way too cocky to be able to pass off a story that wasn’t the truth. Anyway, pushing him further would only irritate him.
I turned back to my locker and finished hanging up my coat, grabbing my binder and books for my first class. I didn’t dismiss him verbally, but my body language should have been clear.
When I turned around, Wes was still there. In fact, he’d gotten closer.
Him standing so close to me brought memories of my last conversation with Shane, where he’d all but pressed my body into my locker with his own. It gave me tingles just thinking about it. All this did was make my skin crawl.
“Can you move, please? I’ve got to go to class.”
Wes smirked. “The bell hasn’t rung yet.”
“I like to be early.”
“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, Dallas?” He reached out and twisted a lock of my hair around his finger. I stiffened.
“I wanna ask you something.” Wes let the twist of hair fall from his finger and inched back just enough that I felt like I could breathe again. Not far enough for me to sidestep him, unfortunately.
“I’m a captive audience,” I said with a flat expression.
He chuckled. “You’re funny. I’ve always liked that about you. Other people don’t see it, but I do.” He met my eyes. “Be my date to the prom.”
A knot of disgust twisted my stomach, but I forced my expression to stay neutral. I didn’t think Wes was a guy who took rejection well, so I had to deliver the blow as softly as possible. One thing was certain—I didn’t want to go to prom with Wes. I’d known that for a long time. I made a new realization at that moment too, however. If Shane didn’t ask me to prom, I didn’t want to go at all. There was nothing there for me without him, particularly if my other option was this leering asshole, who didn’t even ask me so much as he did command me.
“That’s sweet of you, Wes, but I’m going to have to decline,” I said, trying to sound gentle. “I just don’t see you that way, and I wouldn’t want to risk our friendship.”
Yeah, that’s right, I thought, as I watched the cockiness drain from his face. I hope you brought a jacket, cause I just pushed you out into the cold.
My celebration was short-lived. Something else came in behind the smugness. Something worse. Wes’s mouth took on a cruel tilt, and his nostrils flared.
“You should reconsider,” he said. “I think you’ll find your family isn’t in any place to refuse a request from someone of my family.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
This conversation was the most aggressive one I’d ever had with Wes. I’d gone through my entire high school career without standing up for myself against anyone, which had earned me a reputation as a good girl, a girl who could be easily pushed around. I didn’t want to be that girl. I wasn’t going to be that girl. I was going to be a star on Broadway, dammit, and like a proper diva, I wasn’t going to let anybody tell me what to do anymore unless they were wearing a director’s hat.
“It means that it’s in your best interest to go to prom with me, sweetheart. Your dad’s, too.”
All the heat drained from my body. I told myself the shiver that coursed through me was from my wet clothes, and not from the look of icy contempt on Wes’s face. He was perhaps even more handsome when he was like this, like a precisely carved ice sculpture, but in a way that terrified me. Disgusted me.
“No, Wes. Please don’t ask again. And that’s not a funny joke.”
I stepped around him and was surprised that he stepped back enough to let me go. With my binder in a death grip and my sights set on the end of the hall, I started speed walking toward class. The bell rang, and the other students who’d been milling around all started flurrying this way and that, filling in the gap behind me until I was sure that I’d put enough distance between Wes and me.
He had to be joking, right? Surely he didn’t just threaten my dad because I turned down his prom invitation? Only a truly insane person would do that.
I turned into my English class and saw Sasha already seated at her desk, which was just beside mine. I felt relief flow through me, warming me to my fingertips. I was desperate to talk to someone about what just happened, and though Sasha probably would say something bitchy about me turning Wes down, at least she could calm me down a little and normalize the whole experience.
“Hey,” I greeted, taking the seat next to her.
She looked at my soaked jeans and grimaced. “Christ you’re wet. Did you walk into school or swim?”
“Tell me about it.” I sighed and opened up my binder, flipping forward to the English section. “The craziest thing happened to me before class. Wes asked me to prom.”
I dropped it on her casually because I didn’t want to give her a chance to control her expression. Sasha’s dark eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed. She studied me like a hawk.
“And? What did you say?”
“I don’t like Wes like that, so I tried to turn him down as nicely as possible,” I replied. “He didn’t take it well. Made some comment about how there would be consequences for my dad and me if I turned him down... What do you make of that? He was just joking, right?”
Sasha completely ignored the latter half of the sentence, which incidentally was the only part of the whole thing that required her input.
“You turned down Wes?” She made it sound like the idea of me turning down anyone was inconceivable. It was hard not to feel offended.
“What the hell is wrong with you? He’s the hottest guy at this school.”
The second bell rang, and our teacher walked up to the front of the room. He started writing on the board, though we had another minute or so before we’d be expected to shut up and listen.
“Yeah, and I’m just not interested in him. Is that such a crime?”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “Could you be any more of a boring virgin? It’s like being friends with Mother Theresa except without all the free shit.”
“Great chat, Sasha. Really appreciate the help.”
“Christ, don’t be like that,” she replied. “I was just joking. Apparently, humor is not your forte. Of course Wes isn’t going to kill you and your whole family just because you didn’t go to prom with him.” She laughed. “Get a grip, girl. You’ve been way too on edge recently.”
I expected her comment about me being on edge was about how I’d been less submissive and more snappy recently. I wasn’t on edge. Or I suppose maybe I was, but not for any reason that she might think. I was just done—with this school, these people, this whole goddamn town.
As our teacher started up his lecture at the front, I slipped comfortably back into my New York fantasy. Me, Shane, and a world of possibility at our fingertips. Only another month and a half until I was out of this place. Only a few months after that until I was out of this town. And then? The world.
Chapter 9
Shane
Tonight was going to be tricky.
I made sure the kitchen was meticulously clean after I ate, scrubbing all the dishes, putting them away, and wiping the counters until they shone. Mom and I took pride in this little home, even if it was a shit hole that we were forced to live in because we couldn’t afford anything better. At least it was home.
I’d managed to avoid seeing my mom over the past few days, and if I could make it through today without her seeing my battered face, I would have until the weekend to heal it up enough so I wouldn’t look like I’d seen the business end of a baseball bat. I hoped that if the place was spotless when she got home from her twelve-hour tonight, she’d be so relieved that she’d give in to her exhaustion and head straight to bed.
As it turned out, that was not the case.
My mom could sniff out trouble like a basset hound. She was the only person I knew who I could not say a word to all day and would still instantly know if something was wrong. It was frustrating as hell when I was trying to hide something, especially when I was already so humiliated and bruised on the inside. She knew when the kids on the playground teased me for being a bastard, or for being poor, and though she always made me feel better, I still didn’t want her to catch me out in it again. I didn’t like sharing my misery with her because if things were hard for me, how much harder did that mean they were for her? She didn’t need that.
I’d avoided confrontation with her over the past few days by spending lots of time at work or out of the house. I hadn’t been to school, but I got up and left every morning like I would for school. Then I’d either drive my bike down the coast or go out to my spot in the woods to read or nap. The spring days were warm and accommodating for my truancy.
She came home tonight and didn’t even look at the kitchen. Her soft-soled shoes muted the sound of her footfalls as she approached my room, but I heard her all the same. A second later, a quiet knock.
“I’m sleeping,” I tried.
It didn’t work. Mom barged in and flicked on the light, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
“Why in the name of all that is mighty have you been—“
Her words died on her lips the moment she saw my face. The irritation creasing her brow fell away and turned into worry instead. Her green eyes, the exact same shade as my own, filled with warmth and compassion.
I was glad that I looked nothing like my dad. At least I didn’t think I did. I’d never seen a picture of him and never wanted to, but I saw so much of myself in my mom. Her hair was beginning to streak with gray, but it was the same messy color as mine. She kept it cut short, and on more than one occasion we’d walked into the kitchen in the morning with the same bedhead. She was tall too, nearly six feet, though I’d outgrown her in the past few years. I saw more of her in my face than I did strangeness and no person who looked at us would ever doubt that we were mother and child.
I took a lot of comfort in that. I know that the man who contributed the other fifty percent of my genes hurt her badly when he left and looking nothing like him made me feel like I wasn’t a part of that somehow. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help feeling it all the same. When she looked at me like this, however, I knew it wouldn’t matter if I were a carbon copy of my sire. She would love me just the same.
“What happened to your face?” Mom sat beside me on the bed and lifted a hand to the jagged cut on my lip.
I winced and looked away. “I wiped out on my bike. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? Did you get this looked at? Why didn’t you tell me?”
When I didn’t answer quickly enough, she swooped in front of my face to catch my eyes. I knew with one look she’d see through my bullshit excuse. I was a horrible liar.
“What the hell happened, Shane? And tell me the truth this time.”
I pulled back from her but answered. “You know how I got kicked off the football team?”
“Yes,” she said in a flat tone. We still hadn’t discussed that in detail since she hadn’t had time, but she made it clear that the topic was still open.
“Well the guys didn’t think being kicked off was punishment enough. They had a few words with me at school the other day.”
“By words you mean fists?”
“Yes.”
Mom gritted her teeth and shot up from the bed. “Who was it? I’m calling the police right now.”
She was already storming toward the door, and I clambered after her.
“Mom!” I stomped into the kitchen, where I grabbed the phone from her hand. “I can deal with this on my own. It was Gromley and a few others, so trust me you do not want to get involved.”
Even my mom, who lived far enough away from Sitka Valley to hopefully never meet Preston Gromley, had heard the name and understood what it meant. Her jaw went slack, and I could see the outrage rippling behind her eyes. Just like me, Mom didn’t like being helpless. It was why she’d spent the last eighteen years of her life busting her ass every day to make sure she never had to rely on someone else. She was the first person who taught me that the most powerful thing you can be is independent.
After a second, Mom took a breath and held out her hand for the phone. “I don’t care. They could have killed you. I can’t just do nothing.”
“Mom, please.”
My mom loved helping people so much that she’d worked against the odds to make a career out of it. Seeing her only son so battered and unable to do anything to help him was killing her, but she knew she was stuck. This was why I didn’t want her to find out in the first place. Mom gritted her teeth and lowered the phone to the counter.
“At least let me have a look at you,” she said with a sigh. “Hopefully your dumb ass doesn’t already have an infection. Come on. Sit.”
She patted one of the kitchen chairs and I sat down, doing my best to stay still as she poked and prodded my bruises and cuts. She examined the ones on my torso next. We were both silent until she grabbed the cream and started dabbing it on some of the cuts.
“You should have told me,” she said.
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
She replied with a bitter smile. “I always worry about you when I don’t see you for a few days. This just gives me more reason to in the future.”
“What are you going to do when I move out?” I joked.
She chuckled. “Like I’m ever letting you leave if you keep getting into scraps like this. It would be irresponsible of me as a nurse.”
We f
ell silent again, and she finished up, sitting back to do one final once over. Satisfied that nothing was going septic, she set the first aid kit on the table and leaned back in her chair.
“So what else is bothering you?”
Like I said, a basset hound.
It wasn’t worth trying to lie to her.
I sighed. “There’s a girl.”
Mom’s eyes lit up and her hard line of a mouth curved with interest. “Isn’t there always? What’s her name.”
“Dallas.”
Mom nodded her head approvingly. “Pretty name. What’s she like?”
“Kind, gentle, sweet,” I said. “She’s got this ferociousness inside of her that shines through sometimes, even though for the most part she’s good. Really good.” I sighed. “Too good for me.”
Mom’s expression deepened into a scowl. “Too good for you? What on Earth would make you say that?”
“Oh, come on.” I sent her a flat look. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do.”
Was she going to make me say it? My mom was savage.
“Look at where we live, Mom.” I gestured demonstratively to the aging wallpaper and tired furniture of our home. “All signs point to me going nowhere in life. I’ve never done anything that would make me worthy of her. I probably never will.”
Mom’s eyebrows raised and she almost seemed to consider what I said for a moment, like she was close to coming around to my side.
Then she let me have it.
“You’re a bloody fool if you think that. Shane Kelly, what the hell would your poor grandmother think if she heard you talking like this? She came to this country with practically nothing because she believed that here it was possible to become anything. She worked her ass off for years and married a man who she didn’t love so that she could afford to have your aunt and me. Even as she lay dying, poor but happy, she still believed that her children and their children were going to have a better shot at life here than they would have in Ireland. Do you know what she would tell you if she were here?”
I swallowed and had the wherewithal to adopt a sheepish expression. “What would she tell me?”
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