by Debbie Kump
Micah bounded up the steps two at a time, then took her hand and led her through the kitchen. “So what’d you want to do tonight?”
The front door slammed shut before I heard her response, if she even bothered to speak to him. It might prove a long, long night for Micah trying to climb out of the hole he dug this time, especially when I offered him the shovel.
I sat on the couch, alone once more, wondering why she seemed to rip him away just when I needed him most.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Ugh,” Micah groaned, leaning against the refrigerator door, “will you tell Bethany to quit it already.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, I looked up from my US History book. Mr. Tabor had assigned us a killer study packet for our next test that was taking forever to finish. “Quit what?”
“Texting me 24-7. Can’t she just call you here instead?”
“She’s not trying to get ahold of me,” I stated plainly, looking back down at my book.
“What’d you mean?” He cocked one eyebrow skeptically. “She’s your friend.”
“Was,” I corrected him.
“What’s that?”
“She was my friend. Until I figured out she’s just using me to get to you.”
And believe me, it hurt when I initially made that connection. At first, it seemed like a pointless crush. But eventually I realized whenever I saw her, she only talked about “Micah-this” and “Micah-that.” She never cared to get to know me from the start. She just wanted an “in” with him.
“Whatever,” Micah disagreed, taking the chair across from me. “Then why is she always asking if you’re there?”
“It’s just a front,” I retorted. The words burned like acid on my tongue. “She just needs a reason to talk to you.”
And she used me for that reason. Too pathetically insecure to speak to him on her own, she kept hounding him through the safety of her phone, hoping that maybe one time he’d actually respond.
Micah chuckled. “You’re imagining things.”
“Like I did the super storm?” I snapped. “You are so naïve. Bethany Donovan is completely, utterly, helplessly in love with you. All she needs is a reason to get you and Tessa to break up. That’s why she sends you hundreds of texts. If I were Tessa, I’d be a little suspicious to say the least. All she has to do is catch wind of it.”
Micah’s jaw clenched. “You wouldn’t.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“No. I wouldn’t,” I countered. “What do I have to gain? But Bethany…she might.”
“You’re lying.”
“Don’t put it past her. At least if I were her and wanted you that bad, I would.”
He narrowed his eyes, glaring at me.
So what did I do? Glared back.
After a long moment, he said, “You hate me, don’t you.”
“No. I don’t hate you.” Though I felt pissed at him right then. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone and find someone else to annoy?
“Then what is it? Why the hostility? Shouldn’t I be the one pissed at you?” He muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe it. A whole month without a car.”
“It’s almost over.” I turned away. “Besides, I’m not trying to be hostile.”
I just felt a little stressed.
I’d spent the last two days glued to the Weather Channel, listening to meteorologists describe how this atypical storm system grew worse. Ten inches of rain fell on some parts of Southern California over the last two days as the front made its way up the coast.
I really needed to get this cast off now. Unfortunately, the doctor said I had to be patient and wait another week.
Micah blew the hair out of his eyes. “Whatever. Would you just get it out already, for God’s sake? I’m tired of all your cryptic remarks.”
“Fine,” I spat, my eyes filled with anger. “You really want to know?”
“Enlighten me,” he replied, heavy on the sarcasm.
God, did he burn me up sometimes. Gritting my teeth, I mumbled, “I’m jealous.”
“What’s that?” He leaned a little closer, waiting for me to repeat it in an audible tone.
“I’m jealous, okay?”
Micah snorted. “Jealous? Of who? Me?”
Rolling my eyes, I snipped, “Oh, don’t look so surprised.”
“And why shouldn’t I?”
“You’ve got everything.” I unfolded my arms, gesturing to the whole room. “A home. Friends. A family.”
“Yeah? And so do you. Didn’t you hear Mom say you don’t have to leave after your cast comes off? You’re free to stay as long as you need.”
“That’s the problem.” My anger faded. My eyes dropped to the floor. “You don’t get it.”
“You’re right. But it’s kinda hard to ‘get it’ when you never tell me what it is,” he fumed.
Tears clouded my vision. I slipped out of my chair and slumped down the stairs. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak to him. I just wanted to be alone.
“Great,” Micah called from his spot at the kitchen table. “Don’t answer. Like that’s really mature.” I heard his chair shuffle across the floor and his footsteps follow me downstairs. Standing in front of me, he jammed his hands deep into his pockets, waiting for me to continue. But when I didn’t respond, his defensive tone softened a little. “Jordan? Are you okay?”
Sniffling, I shrugged my shoulders.
Micah sighed again before joining me on the couch. “What is it?”
I shook my head, knowing I couldn’t tell him the truth. The danger loomed too near.
“Come on. You can tell me,” he said, slowly placing one hand on top of mine.
Trying to ignore my pattering heart when he willingly touched me, I managed a reply, “I’m not safe here. It’s not safe to have me stay.”
Micah chortled. “Get real, Jordan. This is Pacifica, not South San Francisco or downtown LA. In case you haven’t noticed, not a helluva lot happens here.”
But it will, I thought, wiping a tear from my face.
“Come here.” He extended his arms, wrapping them around me in a soothing hug. “You’re trembling,” he commented.
I tried to calm my emotions but my anxious heart fluttered. Certain things would worsen if Tessa found us again. I tried to wiggle free of his grip yet he held me tighter, refusing to let go.
My initial fury with him and Bethany still pulsed through my veins, making me hesitant to accept his reconciliation. But my tears slowly faded in the comfort of his embrace and my anger followed suit. I rested my head against his shoulder, hoping my nose wouldn’t drip onto his clothes. Squeezing my eyes shut, I leaned into his chest, seeking comfort and warmth from the horrors that filled my mind, wishing I could feel truly at ease.
After a long moment of silence he whispered, “You’re safe now.” He sat so close, his words brushed my hair. “There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”
I closed my eyes, a shiver racing down my spine. Biting my lip, I responded in a chilling tone, “I hope to God you’re right.”
And if not…I’d find out soon enough if my arm had truly healed enough to take on The Three alone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Car after car passed as I walked home from school the next day, mulling through the events of my last class. How could I be so careless as to get into a heated debate with Mrs. Bernard—in French, no less—over whether or not Queen Catherine de’ Medici’s strict policies against the Huguenots resulted in the Paris massacre of thousands under her sons’ rule? What did ancient history matter? I certainly shouldn’t risk my cover over something so far in the past. I chided myself to show greater restraint from this day forward.
Or I’d pay dearly for my mistakes. Just like every other time.
As I berated myself, a red Honda Nighthawk motorcycle chugged to a stop on the shoulder beside me. I turned, my heart suddenly gripped with fear, half expecting to see one of The Three.
Instead, the moment the driver lifted
up the face shield, I recognized his pale, blue eyes. I sighed with relief. It’s just Sully.
“Want a lift?” he asked.
Why not? My backpack weighed half a ton and I still had several blocks to go.
“Sure.” I smiled.
He reached behind him to unbuckle a spare helmet and passed it to me. Running my fingers through my hair, I slipped the helmet over my head. Then I threw one leg over the back seat and squeezed onto the tiny space remaining, careful to leave as much distance as possible between my body and his. I searched for a safe place to put my hands and feet to keep them out of the way.
“Your feet can go on those pegs back there,” he pointed at these pieces of metal sticking out by the back wheel. “And stay away from the muffler. It gets pretty hot.”
I nodded, relaxing a bit. Heat I could deal with. It wasn’t the first time I’d been burned and I doubted it would be the last.
“Anything else?” I asked, still wondering where to find the passenger handles on this thing.
“Um…”—Sully chuckled in an amused way—“you’re probably gonna want to hang on.” He raised his arms to offer his waist.
Well, as long as he didn’t mind.
I slid down the seat, my body resting against his back. I settled my hands lightly on his hips, wondering how he managed to get out of bringing a backpack full of work home today.
“Ready?” he asked and lowered his face shield.
“I guess,” I replied.
He pushed my hands tighter around his waist, and then twisted the throttle to increase our speed. He shifted his weight to slide from the shoulder onto the road. I followed his lead, trying not to disturb his balance. It seemed like the slightest movement might upset the bike.
Each time he twisted his wrist, our speed increased, making scenes from my familiar walk home pass by in a blur. Within no time at all, we’d reached my street.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said when my street sign appeared around the corner. But Sully didn’t slow his bike. How could he forget where I lived when he came over practically every day?
“Sully?” I said, louder this time to ensure he heard my voice over the wind. “You missed my turn.”
“How’s that arm doing?” he replied. “Are you able to hang on?”
“Yeah, I suppose so. But—”
“And are you in a rush to get home?”
I thought about that for a minute. Most likely, Tessa had already come over. So I’d end up locking myself in my room until Celia got home from picking up Cam at daycare. Or go for a long walk, just to get out of the house. How did going for a ride with Sully seem any different? At least I’d have something to do to pass the time.
“Not especially,” I admitted.
“Okay, then. Do it.”
My eyebrows pinched together as I asked, “Do what?”
He revved the throttle. “Hang on.”
I imagined that crooked grin of his lurking beneath his helmet and locked my arms in place. I tried to ignore the weight of my backpack straps that dug into my shoulders as he zoomed down the road toward the beach, before turning to go south along the coastline. We flew up and down hills and around the bends, the arid hillside whizzing past. A gasp escaped my lips. I squeezed my eyes shut, keeping myself close to Sully while he leaned in and out of each curve in the winding road.
“Do you always drive this fast?” I shouted over the roaring wind.
He gave a loud laugh for his answer and revved the throttle again, rocketing us around the next turn at an incredible speed. I tightened my grip, clinging desperately to his waist until my white knuckles turned numb.
After my heart made its way out of my throat, I dared to open my eyes again. Dazzled by the spectacular scenery of the rocky coastline and the vast Pacific that unfolded before me, my fears surprisingly subsided. Sunlight shimmered off the deep blue sea and danced upon its rippled surface. Waves rolled toward the exposed cliffs, rumbling and crashing against jagged boulders and outcroppings. Overhead, gulls swooped and soared on the rising currents, cackling to each other with glee.
For a brief moment, I rested my head against Sully’s back and forgot all my worries. The chance of the other Elementals finding me after a minor class debate seemed very insignificant all of a sudden. I closed my eyes again, this time to feel the rush of the wind against my clothes, the power of the engine beneath me, the warmth of his body warding off the chill in the air. Even in the rush to escape Chicago on horseback, I’d never felt such a thrill like this. Probably because I’d never gone this fast before.
And I had to admit, I liked it.
I glanced over at the speedometer and saw the red needle push seventy on the straight stretches. A small part of me knew I should worry when little protection existed between our bodies and the black ribbon of asphalt that wound along the precipitous sea cliffs. Give it a rest, Jordan. You’ve had enough to worry about for one day.
So I did. Give it a rest, I meant, and allowed myself to soak up the scenery, the speed, and the briny sea air.
Eventually Sully slowed the bike and pulled off at a lookout point at the top of a steep cliff. When he removed his key, I loosened my grip, my muscles stiff from hanging on so tightly and keeping my legs locked in the same position. It took a minute to regain enough blood flow to my extremities that I could straighten my limbs.
Sully set his kickstand in the gravel at the edge of the lookout, then climbed off. I let my heavy backpack slide off my shoulders and land on the ground in a heap, eager to rid myself of the straps that dug into my shoulder and reminded me of how much I had to complete before tomorrow. I felt sick and tired of all the additional work I endured in my desperate attempt to blend in with society and remain unnoticed. So I walked over to the railing and joined Sully.
He took off his helmet and tucked it beneath one arm. A wide grin filled his face. “This is one of my favorite places,” he said, leaning on the railing to gaze out across the dizzying heights.
“I can see why.” To say the scenery looked spectacular was a gross understatement. Far below, waves rumbled against the rocky cliffs in a constant challenge of strength and perseverance. The coastline stretched for miles in each direction until its muted periwinkle shades of distant slopes faded with the sky. On the rocks below, raucous sea lions battled for the best sunning spots, changing their tiny nearby island into a moving mass of complaining tan and brown blubber.
Sully climbed over the railing, positioning himself on the side of the cliff for a better view.
“Do you always like living on the edge?” I asked, reflecting on the speed of the ride and now his proximity to the edge. Personally, I thought the railing sat close enough to the drop-off to make my stomach lurch.
“You only live once, right?” He chuckled and tapped the ground in an invitation to join him.
Interesting choice of words. I sucked in a breath and straddled the railing. The ground seemed to sway beneath my unsteady feet. Throwing my other leg over the rail, I quickly sat down, eager to keep my center of gravity low to the earth. It felt like the slightest of breezes threatened to sweep me over the edge.
Sully smiled again, pleased I took him up on his dare. “This isn’t too far from where Micah and I found you, you know.”
I nodded.
“Y’know, I probably passed this place about a hundred times growing up. But when I got my license, I found myself coming here more and more. Look out there,” he said, pointing to a few black, glistening figures dressed in black suits that clung to their bodies. They waited patiently on long, smooth boards that bobbed on the rising swell. “You can see the big wave surfers.”
We watched one of the black figures paddle his board swiftly toward shore as the wave grew in magnitude behind him. The surfer rose, staggered his feet on the board, and then barreled down the face of the wave. The frothing crest towered far over his head, threatening to engulf him at any moment.
“The waves get bigger than this sometimes,” Sully ad
ded. “But I still think it’s pretty cool to watch.”
Awestruck, I nodded, imagining the rush of adrenaline that shot through that surfer’s veins as he risked his life to conquer such a behemoth and come out intact on the other side.
“Someday I’d like to try out these waves,” he said dreamily. “Some day.”
“That sounds a little crazy to me,” I admitted.
“Maybe a little. But it’d still be cool.” Then he turned to me. “How about you? Do you surf?”
Though the sport appeared exciting, I knew I couldn’t take the chance of ever entering the ocean again. Not after what happened to Skye and me after fishing in ancient Polynesia. And especially not with Hydros so close. The beat of my heart would travel toward her in a matter of minutes, like a homing beacon that alerted her to my current location.
So I fudged a little lie, “No. I don’t swim.”
“Really?” he said skeptically. The look on his face suggested he didn’t buy it. “Not at all?”
I shook my head and looked away. “Nope. Never.”
“What about skim-boarding?”
Puzzled, I glanced back. “What’s that?”
His smile lit his eyes. “It’s where you take a thin board and ride on top of the water that rushes up the beach. Like you’re skimming over the surface.”
My forehead crinkled. “So you still get wet?”
“Just your feet. But you stay on the sand.”
I thought about that for a minute. It sounded kind of fun—but at the same time, unnecessarily risky. “Thanks, but I still think I’ll pass.”
“I know a nice beginner beach in town,” he continued. “The waves are nothing like here.”
“I really don’t think I should.”
Apparently, Sully had no intention of letting up that easy. “And you can borrow my board.”
I frowned, knowing I needed to end this. So I admitted, “I’m scared of the water.”
“Oh,” he said, disheartened. “Well, if you change your mind, the offer still stands. Just think about it.”
“Fine.” I smiled in concession. “I’ll think about it.”
