Somewhere in the Middle

by Linda Palmer

  Somewhere in the Middle

  By

  Linda Palmer

  Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon

  2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-184-4

  Somewhere in the Middle

  Copyright © 2014 by Linda Palmer

  Cover design

  Copyright © 2014 by Linda Palmer

  Photos: © Can Stock Photo Inc. /rustyphil

  © Can Stock Photo Inc. /jgroup

  © Can Stock Photo Inc. / BackyardProduct

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Published by Uncial Press,

  an imprint of GCT, Inc.

  Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

  This book is dedicated to some men with imagination:

  Marvel Comics editor-plotter Stan Lee,

  scripter Larry Lieber,

  and penciller Jack Kirby.

  Also to Chris Hemsworth,

  whose acting breathed life into a legend.

  Thanks for Thor, my favorite superhero.

  Chapter One

  Quiet to the point of being sullen, new guy Roone Thorsen had pretty much ignored everyone at McAlister High since he started there two Mondays ago. His standoffish demeanor was daunting to say the least. But I still said “Hi” to him twice a day every day, once in fourth period and again in seventh, the only times we shared classes. Why I did this, I didn’t know.

  Maybe it was because he looked so lost or maybe it was because I was obsessed with solutions and he clearly had issues. At any rate, while he always nodded politely in response, he never actually looked into my eyes or said anything to me. So when he unexpectedly tapped my arm during study hall on his third Friday there, I had to slap my hand over my mouth to hold in my startled squeal.

  He struggled not to laugh at my blatant overreaction. “Sorry, Sayers…”

  “You know my name?” I kept my sarcasm to a whisper since Coach Spencer, the teacher in charge, did not allow talking.

  “Well, yeah. It’s Everly Sayers, which starts with an S and is the reason you’re sitting next to a Thorsen, which starts with a T.”

  “Shhh!” All I needed was another dang D-hall. Dad would ground me for life. “What do you want?”

  “Do you have Groves for physics?” He whispered the words this time.

  “Did last year.” We now avoided eye contact so Coach, who kept order from behind the rows of stadium seating, wouldn’t notice us.

  “A little help please?”

  I flicked a glance at the three-ring binder in his lap and recognized the simple equation he’d scribbled on one of the pieces of notebook paper in it. Only he’d gotten the thing wrong. “It’s distance divided by time.”

  Roone immediately erased what he’d written and started over, slowly working his way through a couple of easy velocity problems before he stalled again. “Psst…”

  A quick check of the back of the room revealed that Coach still prowled, his attention currently elsewhere. So I peeked at Roone’s notebook again. “Force equals mass times acceleration.”

  With a heavy sigh, he started erasing again.

  I shook my head, wondering how on earth he was going to pass physics if he couldn’t correctly copy the simple formulas Mr. Groves wrote on the white board. As Roone worked, I noticed he wore one of those black rubberized cause bracelets. Without thought, I reached over and turned it so I could read the words: somewhere in the middle. That didn’t ring any bells with me, the girl with causes too many to count. Roone gave me a look, probably because he was a lefty and I’d just nudged his writing hand. I jerked my own hand back with chagrin. That ended our hushed conversation.

  We parted without goodbyes when the final bell rang shortly afterward. I headed to the locker area several students behind Roone, who was also going there. As I studied him from afar, I decided that I liked his shaggy golden-brown hair, which almost appeared highlighted. I also liked his wide shoulders, which were the only hint at his actual size besides his height, since he tended to wear loose Tshirts and baggy-style jeans that gave his body a blocky shape. As for his looks, if I’d been someone who placed value on physical appearance, I’d have said he didn’t suck in that department though he wasn’t exactly the school hunk, either.

  That meant he fell…well…somewhere in the middle. I smiled to myself since those four words described me, too, from my spot as second of three children to my upper-mid ranking in the senior class. As for my own size and looks, I was a little on the short side, but otherwise in the middle on both scores, too.

  In the locker commons, Roone went one way and I went another. Just as I began turning my combination lock to open it, JR Winston swooped in, snatched my books from me, and set them on top of the metal locker where I couldn’t reach them. His fly-by was nothing new, but annoying as heck since I was way past ready to start my weekend.

  “Go on, shrimp.” JR gave me a smug grin. Tall and good looking with carefully gelled hair, he thought he was a gift to the girls of McAlister High. “Let’s see you get them.”

  Before I could retort, a body brushed mine from behind. I ducked in surprise as Roone, who’d come from nowhere, reached over my head and retrieved the books, which he solemnly handed to me.

  “Er, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Before he moved on, he gave the guys a go-to-hell look that made them take a step back and exchange surprised glances.

  Kyle Hawkins, JR’s buddy, waited for Roone to get out of sight before he spoke. “You two have already hooked up?”

  “No,” I told him. “Thorsen simply has good manners, something you two wouldn’t know about.”

  Kyle thought that was hilarious.

  JR didn’t and glared him into silence before zoning in on me. “Wanna hang out tonight? Brad Long’s folks are out of town so we’re partying at his place.”

  “No thanks.” I turned my back on them so I could finish opening the door of my locker, put up the books I didn’t need, and get the ones I did. Stuffing them into my backpack, I slipped into the straps and turned to find Thing One and Thing Two still standing there.

  “You too good for us, Sayers?”

  “No. I just don’t do beer busts.”

  “So we’ll go somewhere else.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah,” said JR. “Me and Kyle and you.”

  “What’s that? Your take on a double date?”

  Kyle the joker snorted. “Good one.”

  Sigh. “Sorry, but I really have to pass. My parents are home. They have plans for me.” And if they didn’t we’d make some. With a wave, I left them and darted down the steps and sidewalk to the west gate of the school. A quick glance back told me they’d followed. What was it with these guys? I wondered, even though I had a good idea.

  Lover-boy JR basked in female adoration, and my refusing to give him any apparently came off as a challenge he couldn’t refuse. Even worse, he hadn’t gotten past the tease-her-if-you-like-her stage of male developmen
t. So here they were, trailing me yet again and undoubtedly thinking up more mischief. I shifted the straps of my heavy backpack and abruptly stopped to confront them. “Why are you following me?”

  “Sure you’re not sweet on Thorsen?” JR asked, now at my left elbow. Kyle was at my right.

  Would a lie get rid of them? Maybe, but it wasn’t worth the risk of Roone hearing it. And he would. JR and Kyle had the biggest mouths in the entire school, as in they were worse than any two girls I knew plus Eli, my five-year-old brother. “I barely know the guy, okay?”

  “You could still be hot for him,” said JR. Kyle nodded quick agreement.

  “Well, I’m not.” Yet, anyway. Any male who rescued me from these idiots would definitely deserve a spot on my watch list…if I had one, which I so didn’t. “Have fun at the party. Goodbye.”

  I moved on, or tried to. JR’s yanking on my backpack halted forward progress and made me stumble to keep from overbalancing.

  “Hey!” The three of us turned and found Roone striding up, clearly pissed. Staring down my companions, who edged away, he worked my backpack off my arms and hefted it onto his shoulder via one of the straps. “What’s your deal, dude?”

  “What’s yours?” JR straightened to his full height and glared at both of us, but from a distance.

  “Where I come from, men treat women with respect.”

  Kyle burst into derisive laughter. “Are you calling her a woman?”

  One hard look from Roone shut him down. “Where’s your ride, Everly?”

  I pointed toward the lot at the end of the sidewalk.

  He nodded. “Go. I’m right behind you.”

  I headed straight to my classic Trans Am, a gem of a ride my sweet grandpop had bought new in the seventies and left to me when he died a year ago. To say I cherished it didn’t begin to go there. I kept that vehicle as spotless as he always had, which meant it was still in perfect condition.

  Momentarily distracted from JR and Kyle, Roone whistled low when we got to it. “This is yours?”

  “Yes.” I gave him a proud smile.

  “Lucky you. All the—what’s the word? Oh yeah, classic. All the classic automobiles I see are amazing, and this one is stinkin’ sweet.”

  “Thanks.” His oddly-worded compliment pleased me way more than it should have.

  Roone glanced over his shoulder at my hecklers, now intently watching our every move. “Will you be okay?”

  That made me laugh. “They’re not dangerous, just hopeless rednecks. Besides, I have a black belt.” I pointed to that leather accessory, which I’d bought at Old Navy.

  Roone didn’t get the joke. “What they are is bullies, and I despise bullies.”

  Couldn’t argue with that. “How do you like McAlister High so far?”

  “It’s okay, I guess.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Nowhere near.”

  “Guessed that.” I waited for more. He didn’t give it to me. The silence quickly became awkward. “I should go. Thanks for the rescue. I’ll pay you back with study hall help anytime you need it.”

  Roone actually smiled and gave me his full attention. “Don’t think I’ll forget.”

  Focused on his dimples, I didn’t filter my thoughts. “I think I’m hoping you won’t.” Was that shock on his face? If so, he wasn’t any more shocked than me, the girl who’d sworn off guys until after graduation.

  But something about Roone lured me in. Since I didn’t know if that was good or bad, I unlocked my car, took the backpack he handed over, and slid behind the wheel. As I left the lot, I kept my eye on the rearview mirror to see what Roone would do. He stood there watching me until I couldn’t see him anymore. Naturally I thought about him all the way home.

  It didn’t take me long to realize there wasn’t one thing I didn’t like about the guy, which was unusual. Did he like anything about me? More important, why was I even wondering? For all I knew he had a girlfriend back in NowhereNear. But he’d come to my rescue twice, which counted for something even if he was only saving the girl who could help him pass physics.

  Just as I unlocked the back door of my house, my cell began blasting the song I’d selected as Dayna Garza’s ringtone, a classic by James Taylor called “You’ve Got a Friend.” My BFF for the past two years, we were tight, as in she knew all my secrets, and I knew all of hers.

  “Hey, Day.” I shouldered open the door, which sometimes stuck when humidity was high, which meant most of the time. When it abruptly gave, I tumbled into the kitchen and burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “My amazing style and grace.” Tossing my backpack onto the table, I headed straight for the fridge and the pitcher of lemonade I’d made the day before. I also snagged a bag of organic mini carrots.

  “You fell again?”

  “Almost.”

  “Geez. You’re as uncoordinated as Bella Swan. Too bad you don’t have an Edward in your life. Or do you? Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Baffled by her mental leap, I thought for a sec. “Noooo… Why?”

  “Did I see Roone Thorsen walking you to your car after school?”

  Oh that. “Yeah, but it’s not what you think.” I poured myself a small glass of the ice-cold drink.

  “Then what is it?”

  “He was just protecting me from JR and Kyle.”

  “Aww.”

  “I know, right? I was totally shocked.”

  “Why? Teddy bears are always more sensitive than jocks.” She referred to Roone’s size, of course.

  “Could you be more shallow?” I plopped down in one of the chairs and took a sip of lemonade.

  She groaned. “Can I help it if I long to date a Tatum Channing?”

  I nearly spewed my drink. “You’d better stick with Gavin.” Gavin Berry, who was definitely on the lanky side, had been her guy for a couple of years. “Think of the pressure that comes with dating a guy who has muscles. You’d have to work out eight hours a day just to find the nerve to get naked with him. Even worse, you could never eat another order of chili cheese fries for as long as you lived.” She did love her junk food. I dug a carrot from the bag and bit into it.

  Dayna sighed. “There is that. Roone’s looking better by the second even if he is big.”

  “He is not big! Actually, he is. But he’s not fat-big. At least I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t care if he was. You know stuff like that doesn’t matter to me.” Crunch. Crunch.

  “The very reason I’m proud to call you friend. What the heck are you eating? Ice?”

  I told her.

  “Ew. You are so weird. Yikes! I’ve got to go. Julio is one chokehold away from murdering Chico, and mom will never forgive me if one of them kicks it on my watch.” She referred to her rambunctious little brothers, ages four and six, who were always up to no good. “Are we doing the library thing tomorrow?”

  We took our siblings there every other Saturday. “Yep.”

  “Great. See ya then.”

  Ending the call, I set my snacks aside and headed to my bedroom, one of three in the house. Being the only girl child in the Sayers family had its perks. My brothers Eli, and Cory shared a room while I had one of my own. But then Cory, a twenty-year-old junior at the University of Alabama Huntsville, only came home on occasional weekends, so neither of them really had it all that bad.

  After changing into yoga pants and one of my big brother’s hand-me-down Tshirts that hit me mid-thigh, I went back to the kitchen to cook dinner. My mom, a neonatal nurse, was trying to get her advanced practice certification. Since that had resulted in the schedule from hell I helped her every way I could.

  Tonight, I dug a free-range chicken from the fridge and potatoes from a wooden bin before pouring oil into a skillet to heat it. Though baking the poultry would’ve been much healthier, I chose the traditional southern way and breaded the pieces before dropping them into the oil once it was hot. While they fried, I peeled the potatoes and cut them into c
hunks for boiling and mashing, which was the way Eli liked them best.

  I also made some brownies from scratch, adding chocolate chips to the batter before I poured it into a pan. These I baked, of course, along with some whole wheat rolls Mom and I had made weeks ago and frozen. Everything had just about come together when my Dad got home with Eli, whom he’d picked up at the daycare that provided before-and-after-kindergarten supervision.

  Starved as usual, Eli got his little red stepstool and washed his hands at the sink without me reminding him to. He was at the table before I even set it. My little brother always got home starved and loved my cooking. That made my kitchen duty worthwhile. Grinning, I gave him a carrot and the rest of my lemonade to tide him over.

  Ethan Sayers, my father, was a county deputy with hours as crazy as Mom’s. Visibly exhausted tonight, he went straight through the kitchen en route, I suspected, to the shower. When he returned twenty minutes later, he’d changed into faded jeans and his Alabama—the singers not the state—tee, his favorite at-home attire. Just setting the last dish on the table, I noticed that he smelled of Old Spice body wash, a favorite scent of mine.

  “Thanks for having it ready. I skipped lunch today.” He affectionately tugged on a lock of my dark brown hair, worn long and loose, before he pulled out a chair.

  “Me, too.” I took Eli’s plate so I could spoon some mashed potatoes and gravy onto it. I added a drumstick and a roll, wishing I’d thought to heat up something green, as in a token vegetable, to go with the meal. But baby bro wouldn’t have eaten it even if I’d bothered. “Your salad’s in the fridge, Dad.”

  He got it and the Thousand Island dressing before we both sat. “Are you as happy as I am to start the weekend?”

  “And then some.” I began filling my own plate. “Holidays making you crazy?”

  “Yeah. Since Thanksgiving, every petty crook in the county has been breaking and entering instead of working like the rest of us to buy Christmas presents. Thank God it’s Friday.” He had the next two days off, a rarity this time of year.

  “Ditto!” said Eli, repeating something our mom Selena said a lot.

  Dad and I laughed. I took a mental snapshot of my brother’s priceless expression: Click!