When Ash Rains Down (Kingdom Come #1)

by Cecelia Earl

  My heart leaps out of my chest and I jump. "What are you still doing here?"

  "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

  "You should be. I almost had a heart attack. Why didn't you leave with your adoring fans?"

  "Thought I'd be the adoring fan for a change. They left me stranded."

  With no retort to that, I sigh and tilt my head in the direction of the kitchen. "Toss 'em in the sink and I'll take care of 'em in a bit." He nods and disappears for a few seconds.

  "Kinda late for you to be out on a school night," I say, walking past Cole and into the kitchen, where I grab a rag to wipe down the tables, chairs, dartboard, and machines.

  "What? And it's not for you?" he prompts.

  I narrow my eyes. "I'm not here for the laughs. Don't Mommy and Daddy want their little boy to get his beauty rest?"

  "In case you missed it," he walks over with my crown and places it on my head, "it's homecoming week, so anything goes—especially senior year."

  "Ah." I shake my head, take the crown off, and toss it in the trash that'll go out in the morning.

  "I'm trying to make amends here, so you can let go of the hostility." When I don't answer, he adds, "Okay?"

  Looking at him now, close up, I can't help but remember the first time I saw him. We were about a month and a half into freshman year. It was almost as if he'd appeared from out of nowhere. One minute, I stood alone in the hallway, grabbing books from my locker to take to the library while everyone else ate, and then there he was. Strutting, naturally, his shoulders twisting slightly and steadily, like he had nowhere to go, but every reason to go there. Like everyone in the world wanted him there, and he hadn’t decided whether or not he'd grace them with his presence. Yes, he definitely came across like he was perpetually undecided and yet confident in his indecision. A boy in a very masculine, manly body. Built for the football field, tall, strong, and yet his boyish eyes betrayed all the nonchalance with their laughing gleam.

  I don't know what it was about him that got to me, maybe his complete opposite way from mine. All I had was my decision, my drive, my focus. I envied his boyishness, respected his confidence. Where other boys from middle school were childlike inside and out, his completely blended boy-manliness stood out. Other girls noticed too, obviously, and that's where my thoughts about him ended, though I never ceased to glance around for him in the lunchroom, to notice every time he walked down the hall, or to sit up straighter the hours we shared one class together, French, all three years.

  To be so sure of himself and so happy-go-lucky at the same time. So unlike me. Even in class, he somehow wooed the teacher with his perfect, flirty way. I'm sure he aced every class, either from confidence or brilliance or prestige. I have no idea. Shoulders low and back, head high. Always leaning in toward others. Close and confident, never doubting the person he's with wants him there. And, his eyes. Those blue, laughing eyes.

  He's such a distraction.

  Especially now. His smile is so playful and sweet. It looks as though its very life weighs on my response, like it could disappear if I wasn't kind enough to it. Walking through the hall that day, he breezed by me as though I didn't exist, but in this minute, he's looking at me as if only I exist. And when someone takes you from nothing to something, it's hard to deny them of anything.

  His blue eyes have flecks of lighter blue and a magnetic pupil that sucks me in. Every. Single. Time. My heart does a series of backflips, so I rest my tense shoulders, and whisper, "Yeah, okay. For the record, I did promise to have fun this week. And right now, I'm offering to bring you home. That's not hostile."

  He laughs. "Well, you promised to try, anyhow. Are you sure you want to spend precious time driving me home?"

  "What, and have the homecoming king hurt his dancing feet before the big dance? No way. I can imagine the hostile looks I'd get from Mrs. Wiltrow and the rest of the homecoming committee."

  He puts a hand to my forehead. "Are you feeling all right? I didn't peg you for caring what anyone else thought."

  I swat his hand away and finish in the bar area, where he's cleared glasses off a few more tables. "Whatever. You know, if your plans to be a quarterback fall through, you could have a bright future as a bus boy."

  Cole laughs. "Thanks, but no. My plans won't fall through."

  I turn off the lights and lock the door. Truth be told, I'm glad I don't have to walk into the dark night alone. He follows me to our black Ford Edge. I'm not ashamed of it, but I know he's used to driving his Porsche around.

  "Hop in," I say, all sweaty palms and knocking knees. "Where to?" I ask, after starting the car, looking at him, even though I'm afraid I won't be able to look away—ever.

  "Nice music." He gestures to the radio. He looks like he's chewing on the notes slowly, deciding how they taste on his tongue.

  "Thanks. Indie station. Local bands."

  "I like it."

  I start to drive and come to the street. He didn’t answer my question, and I don't want to act as though I know where to go. "Directions?" Everyone knows where the Stevens' house is, of course, but I've never been up the long drive, behind the brick pillars and black gates.

  "Take Main Street down to Pearl Avenue. Then turn right on Gabriel Street. It's the white house at the end."

  I pull out and we drive without talking. The streets are black and shiny from another brief downpour around the time when Rach left. Not a soul but ours is out and about. I turn onto Gabriel and peer straight ahead. Mansions line the tidy street. I roll into his gated driveway. When I see his house up close, I hit the brakes a little too forcefully. Holy houses of all houses. This is a palace. I can't even speak or look at him. The jealousy is choking me. My tongue is covered in pins and needles, and my mouth is filled with a rusty-flavored dose of coveting my neighbor's belongings. I ease up on the brakes and roll to a stop.

  As I stare up at a house I couldn't have even conjured up in my wildest of dreams, he leans over and whispers, warm air filling my ear and tickling my neck, "Thanks. Be prepared for some fun tomorrow."

  I turn and we are nose-to-nose. The jealousy turns to sparks of infatuation. His eyes are so beautiful and his full lips are so warm and close to mine. My head's all fuzzy and full of him.

  He smiles, and then he's gone.

  My head clears, and I watch him walk up, up, up the rest of the long driveway. Once he's inside the massive double-door entry, I wonder what it's like in his house. I wait for lights to flip on somewhere so I can get an idea of where he is, but nothing in the dark windows changes.

  No wonder his parents don't care when he gets home. How would they even know? Their bedroom is probably two miles from his.

  In a way, I feel bad for him. Maybe I should try harder to be less hostile. After all, he is worrying an awful lot about whether or not I enjoy myself.

  Still.

  I reverse, and somewhere across town, police sirens rage, the blaring slicing through the stillness of the night. A town now in chaos when only minutes before it was fast asleep. My back pain takes a break, but the underlying apprehension remains. It’s got to be stress. Some people carry stress in their stomachs or suffer from headaches. I must carry mine in my upper back. I roll my shoulders and wonder if the robber has struck again. Or if he's out lurking in the shadows, waiting for me. I wonder what caused him to lower himself to become a thief, someone who wants to take something that belongs to someone else, even to the point of causing physical harm.

  I speed home, worrying about my family.

  When I pull onto our little patch of gravel, all is still and safe-seeming. I make my way up dark wooden stairs to our two-bedroom apartment, where my mom is asleep on the pullout couch in the living room. She's un-manicured, un-pedicured, and she doesn't even get a bed of her own. We're in this broken-down shadow of a home, but I'd still never stoop so low as to make someone else pay for our misery.

  Yet. Someday, I'll earn enough money to get Mom everything she deserves... and more.

 
We'll have so much more.

  Even if it means playing nice.

  -11-

  I can't stand living like we are. Especially after getting a close-up of Cole's castle. Before going to bed, and after finishing my homework, I email the school counselor with my course choices. One, I can take during my study hall, and the other as an independent study, because I can do more studying at one in the morning after my bowling alleys shifts. Why not? I'm not going to back down. I'm going to surge ahead with my plans to graduate in December.

  At school, Mitch helps me locate the three girls' lockers. I have a note for each of them, saying sorry and that I'll meet them in the library at 3:00.

  Game on.

  "Y-you do realize these are the same three who w-want you to w-wear vines and dress up like a queen all w-week, right?"

  "You do realize you wanted me to be nice to them, right? So why question it?"

  He shrugs. "I d-did. D-do. Just m-making sure y-you know what y-you're d-doing."

  "Always." Done. "Let's go." That took a little more time than I'd planned for, and I don't want to be late for first hour.

  This morning, instead of being draped in royalty, I find a garden of flowers adorns my locker and the floor outside it.

  "What the—" Mitch shakes his head.

  I roll my eyes. "Oh, who knows?"

  We start to pick up the roses, daisies, and gladiolas that spread across the small squares of floor, just so I can open my locker and get to class on time. I have a test, and I'm worried that everything I memorized will fall out of my brain unless I can get there and begin pronto.

  "Jules, there's s-something I've been m-meaning to tell y-you."

  I stash the armful of stems and petals on top of my locker and try to work the combination without disturbing the vines weaved intricately across the door. "Oof. What?"

  "Er, Jules," Mitch says, stepping closer to me, but not finishing his thought.

  "Hm?" I ask, relieved to be grabbing the books I need for my first two classes. "What is it?" I slam the locker shut and whirl around, into the brilliant morning eyes and kissable lips of Cole.

  "Ah!" I yelp, surprised, and step back, hitting against my locker.

  He's got a long-stemmed rose between his teeth, which he removes and hands to me.

  "For you," he tells me. Then he points up, and at that moment, music begins playing over the PA system. It's the song I had playing in the car the night before.

  The rest of the student body shrieks in delight and starts dancing in the hallway.

  Part of me is delighted he took note of what I had playing, and part of me is a nervous-wreck. What is he going to do now?

  He gently removes the books from my arms, hands them to Mitch, who is standing wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and grabs my hands. He sets one of my hands on his shoulder, the other he raises. He wraps an arm around the small of my back and begins to glide down the hallway, turning every so often.

  "I'm thinking this song isn't really suited for waltzing," I tell him.

  "No?" he acknowledges, stopping and moving me so I walk under his raised arm. He twirls me, and we're back in our original position. He pulls me to him, tight. Our arms are held firm. "A tango then?" We slice through the hallway, stopping to jerk one way and then the other.

  "I'm thinking... no."

  "Oh, well then, how about this?" He holds me close to him with loose arms and brings his forehead to mine. We sway.

  Heat spreads through me and I'm unable to breathe. "Um," I say. Okay, it's pretty much a croak.

  My lips are oh-so dying to press against his. Fuzzy-brain has returned.

  "How's this for fun?" he asks, low and sweet.

  I can't even bite my cheeks fast enough to hide a smile. Plus, I can feel the heat spread pink across my face. Dead giveaway that I'm embarrassed, head-over-heels for him, and—who can deny it—enjoying myself.

  Then the bell rings.

  "Oh, crap!" I pull away from him so fast I feel as though a Band-Aid has been ripped from my body. I grab Mitch, and drag him through the hall. I don't even glance over my shoulder to catch Cole's reaction.

  I want perfect scores in all my classes to stay on track, and I will not let my attraction to him spoil my plans. I will not lose focus, not even when Cole Stevens is doing his very best to distract me.

  At lunch, I'm lucky to get in and out of the cafeteria quick enough to study. After school, I'm about to race off to the library, unscathed, undeterred, when Mrs. Wiltrow steps in front of me in the hallway.

  "Miss White, you need to stop in the gym for homecoming pictures."

  "Now?"

  "Yes, right now."

  As I follow her, I try to explain about tutoring.

  "Miss White, you have responsibilities to this school. Stop trying to weasel your way out of them."

  Exasperated, I follow in silence. I don’t even bother to ask if she received my email with my additional course choices. During pictures, I'm irritated with every smile and bat of the eye she throws Cole's way. Though, keeping to his end of the deal, Cole returns every smile with a comment about how hardworking and giving I am. How much I deserve the title of Queen.

  I'm still not certain how much he had to do with my nomination and coronation, but I appreciate his charming tries.

  Even when they have no effect.

  As I race off to tutor Kari, Kerry, and Caroline—who goes by Cari—Mrs. Wiltrow calls out, "Miss White, it'd be nice if you'd help with the homecoming float. I think that would be very social of you." She punctuates the request with a tight smile.

  It looks and sounds like an ultimatum.

  "Sure," I call back, mentally squeezing that activity in between sleeping and breathing at three o’clock in the morning.

  -12-

  I tutor the "Kari's Cubed" for an extra fifteen minutes. One hour—times three—down, 117 to go. I clean up all the scratch paper the girls went through to solve their trig problems and toss them into the recycling bin. I need to get home, check on Noah and work in the diner before my shift at the bowling alley, but Mrs. Wiltrow's face keeps rearing itself in my mind, reminding me to help with the homecoming float. Like Cole said, if I do my part, and he does his, she'll eventually do hers and give in to what I want.

  The homecoming committee is in the parking lot on the side of the building, laughing and throwing fabric flowers at one another. There are more decorations covering the ground than the float. Fun looks more like a mess than anything. How much fun is cleaning this up going to be? I gather an armful of yellow and orange daisies and add them to one of the pillars that rise from the top of a trailer bed. I pose for a picture or two, smile, and make sure to catch Mrs. Wiltrow's eye and wave. Cole is nowhere to be seen. Apparently, he's social enough without this crap and doesn't need to make an appearance, or lift a finger. Sounds about right.

  The diner is in full-swing when I return. Trevor is manning his position at the counter—with no broken plates, mugs, or glasses, so that's a plus. The man in the black suit is sitting at the end of the counter, watching out across the other diners through the front window. Mr. Luca Star is the name typed on his business card. I follow his eyes.

  Well, it's no wonder Cole wasn't helping with the float. He's here playing with my brother. Jealousy pangs me. While I'm working, studying, and denting my pride smiling for homecoming pictures, the homecoming king is spending time with my brother, where my heart would rather have been all along. My jealousy blurs around the edges, though, when I see Noah's happy smile. He doesn't look quite as flushed and excited when he's running up to catch a pass from me. Watching them, I fiddle with my necklace, and it warms between my fingers.

  "How are you doing?" Mr. Star asks while I refill his water glass.

  I shrug. "Would you like a menu?"

  "No, thank you."

  "Well... do you know what you want?"

  He looks at me with a hint of a smile on his lips. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I do." He folds his hands in front of him. "H
ave you made any progress toward graduating early?"

  I look around for Mom, spotting her delivering two hot plates to a couple in the corner. "Yeah. I'm working on it."

  He pushes some paperwork forward on the counter. Paperwork I hadn't noticed when I'd poured his water. "If you're interested, I have an internship opening up in January. There are two payment options: either take it as a salaried position, or take it toward money for credits at Shadow University with an agreement to work for us when you finish your degree." He picks the papers up and hands them out to me. "Go ahead. Look them over. You don't have to decide right now."

  Mom turns at that moment and catches my eye. She glances at Mr. Star and frowns. She moves closer and comes up to the counter, shaking her head slightly. "Everything all right?"

  "Perfect, actually, Melissa," Mr. Star says, still looking at me. "Thank you."

  Her face darkens. "Julia, please take a few more customers their orders before heading out for the night. We're busy."

  I'm not used to Mom being so cold, and I'm embarrassed she's being unusually rude to a customer. I realize he's not eating, but she doesn't normally mind when customers come in just to take a break from their days. She likes being the place where neighbors come to say hi and hang out when coming and going to and fro. I can't figure out why she's dismayed. It's like she knows what I'm considering without my even telling her. I know she'd want me to say no. I take the papers, fold them up, and stick them in my back pocket without responding to him, so I can mingle and fill up my order pad for Mom, who has returned to the kitchen.

  I can't help but notice his dark eyes grow darker yet after Mom walks away from him. And even while I'm bustling about, I feel his bottomless eyes follow me. More than ever, my back pressure is beginning to take my breath away. I’m certain at this point it’s more than stress causing the pain. But what else is going on? I swear I even see a blur of color and smoke streak past the windows where Cole and my brother are playing. But I step out to check, and there's nobody else around. No robber. No threat.