by Ashley Love
I stand the stool up again and scoop up my turtle mobile, climbing back up onto it, listening to Zane and Alfred chatting in the back. I had no idea Alfred was Zane's uncle. Does that mean Abby is Zane's cousin? Or is Uncle Alfred just a nickname of sorts? Maybe Alfred's just a family friend. I miss a few more times before the string finally catches on the hook in the ceiling, and the mobile bounces and bobs as it hangs there.
I climb carefully down from the wobbly stool, and then just stand there. I don't want to go back up front, not until Zane leaves. Seeing him outside of school violates several rules on my Project FAZ list. Seeing him at Hartley's Bend occasionally is one thing, but now Zane is here at my job. I wonder whether Slate and Gordon are outside again like they were that one night when they were smoking weed in the alleyway. I swallow hard at the thought, holding onto the stool and peeking around the corner of the shelf, eyeing the front desk and the Japanese curtain.
Above me, the turtle mobile spins a little as it settles, and I look up at it, admiring my work. I'm surprised I didn't break something, toppling off the stool like that. I rub my sore head again, palming my jeans where my vagina is stubbornly responding every time I hear the sound of Zane's voice from the back room. This is pathetic. Something as small as a voice shouldn't be enough to have me getting wet like a fourteen-year-old. Even if that voice is the kind of voice that could properly narrate every porno in existence.
I don't know how long I stand there. Easily ten minutes or more. I'm half-tempted to sneak forward a bit and eavesdrop on their conversation. But why? What would be the point? So Alfred is Zane's uncle. Big deal. Why would any conversation they have be at all relevant to me?
Only...it is a big deal. I was beginning to think that my job was the one place I could come and escape from thoughts of Zane for a while as I worked on my origami. But now...now, Alfred is going to be a constant reminder of Zane. Yet another thing I'll have to add to my Project FAZ list: never, under any circumstances, talk to Alfred about Zane. The less I know about him, the better. The easier it will be to get over him.
Even if I desperately want to know more about the guy.
I'm just about to sneak closer when I suddenly hear Alfred and Zane coming out from behind the curtain, chatting away about some woman named Susan and a dinner or something they've planned. I've heard Alfred mention Susan before. Maybe she's his wife? I hear Alfred rifling around at the desk as Zane says something about Liam. His little brother, I remind myself. Nice kid—nothing like his older brother.
"Ariel? You got any idea where the sticky notes are?"
I stiffen as I hear Alfred call out to me. Damn it. I can't simply hide until Zane leaves now. Zane knows.
"Ariel?" Alfred calls again. "You alive back there, kid?"
I realize I'm frozen in place, and I close my eyes for a second, bumping my forehead once against the shelf. Fuck. Swallowing hard, I emerge from behind the shelf, dragging the stool with me, and I can see Zane staring at me out of the corner of my eye as I walk by. I mean to ignore him until he leaves, just as the Project FAZ rules call for, but then, to my surprise, Zane speaks.
"You work here or something?" he asks, and my eyes snap to his face. As always, I can't help but stare for a moment before forcing myself to look away, setting the stool back down behind the counter.
"It would appear that way, yes," I reply, and even to my own ears, I sound snarky. I would be proud of that fact, but I'm too busy trying to remember how to function.
"You kids know each other?" Alfred asks as I hand him the sticky notes, and I glance up at Zane again. We hold stares for a second, and I watch as his throat ripples when he swallows. I want nothing more than to bite that neck. My hands tighten painfully on the edge of the counter in an attempt to smother those thoughts.
"We-we're friends. Acquaintances," Zane lies to Alfred, and I have to actually bite my tongue to keep from saying anything. Me and Zane are the furthest thing from friends.
"Ah, that so?" Alfred smiles, scribbling something onto a sticky note and tearing it off, handing it to Zane. "That's nice. Maybe Ariel should come over for dinner tomorrow night."
Both mine and Zane's eyes widen to twice their size, and we exchange a glance. "No, no, I think Ariel has—"
"I have plans," I supply before Zane botches a lie. "Maybe some other time." I never intend on following through with that. I give Alfred a stiff smile.
Alfred's eyes dart between the two of us, looking at us strangely. "What's a matter with ya?" he asks us. "You both look like you swallowed a nail."
Zane's throat ripples again. God.
When neither of us say anything, Alfred rolls his eyes and turns to head back behind the curtain. "Ya want the old guy outta the room, all ya gotta do is ask," he grumbles, pushing into the back. I watch the Japanese curtain settle back into place, and then I swallow, glancing back up at Zane standing a few feet in front of the counter.
I only look at him for a moment, and then force myself to look away, because I'm breaking so many Project FAZ rules right now, it's not even funny. I sit back down at my stool, my legs suddenly rubbery, and I pull out several new sheets of paper. I don't know what I'm going to make next, but even if I did, I'm not sure my mind could process how to make them right now. I feel Zane still looking at me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him glance away after a few seconds, looking to the side, and then scanning over the desk. To my shock, he lets out a little laugh suddenly, and I'm so surprised I glance up again. Zane is looking at the origami Yoda mobile hanging over the desk. He looks at it for a second, and then steps forward, and I actually lean back a little as he comes closer.
He reaches up and takes the mobile down from where it's hanging on the ceiling, fishing in his pocket and slapping a twenty on the counter, even though the mobiles are only fifteen dollars. Then, without another word, he takes one last look at me and turns, leaving the store. I can't help it—I watch him walk away, staring after him until he disappears out the door and out of sight.
It's only when I'm certain he isn't going to come back that I release the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I drop my head my head to my chest, running my hand through my messy hair, looking at the twenty Zane had placed on the counter.
I stare at in silence until Alfred comes back out from behind the curtains again. "I didn't know you guys were friends," he comments.
I swallow and snap out of it, reaching out and plucking the money off the counter, popping the register open and tucking it inside. "We're not...friends," I say, clearing my throat. "I mean, we're-we're more acquaintances."
Alfred hums in acknowledgement, glancing at his watch. I have about ten minutes left of my shift. I scoot aside as Alfred comes up and opens the register again, beginning to count out the drawer. "Zane and his brother Liam come over to our house a few times a week," he says. "They're good kids. Daddy's a piece a work, but they turned out okay I think."
I bite my lip. I want to ask. I want to ask about Zane's father, and his house, and everything about him. I shouldn't, but I want to. Maybe just one question. Just one. I'll allow myself to ignore Project FAZ for just one question.
"And their mother?" I question. I figure maybe I shouldn't ask Alfred to elaborate about Zane and Liam's "piece a work" of a father. Piece a work is never a good thing.
"Mm, sore subject, their mom," Alfred warns. "It'd be best if you didn't mention her to Zane. Boy's been through enough."
I nod. Well that shouldn't be too hard. Me and Zane hardly speak anyway. I spend more time dodging his fists. I'm half-tempted to tell Alfred the truth, to tell him that Zane hurts me, bullies me. Alfred thinks he's this good kid, but I know that's not true—at least, not completely true.
But I don't say anything. Because I remember the way Zane was with Liam at Hartley's Bend. And I remember the way he looked at my lips in the bathroom at school. And I think about how he just bought one of my origami mobiles. And I feel warm inside. I should
n't, but I do.
So I say nothing to Alfred, because maybe Zane isn't a bad guy. Maybe he has bad friends, and angry fists, but maybe he's not so bad. There's something else there, under the surface. I've known that from the very beginning. I've just been torn about whether that's reason enough to forgive him for hurting me again and again. Even though, technically, Zane hasn't hurt me at all lately. He'd left the stairwell today. He'd punched the wall in the bathroom. He watches his friends bully me, but for the past few weeks, he hasn't done much of anything in the way of harming me.
Fucking hell, this is messing with my head.
Alfred lets me out of work a few minutes early, and I hug myself as I cross the street quickly, glancing around, half expecting Zane to still be there, or some of the other Cancers. But no one is there, and I mount my bike and ride home quickly.
I forget that Mason, Charlie, and Kira are coming over until I ride up and find them all sitting on my front porch. They're here a little early, but I don't mind. In fact, I'm grateful. I need a distraction. I quickly pick Sophia up from Bonnie's, and she immediately plops down in front of the TV to watch what looks like an old episode of Spongebob Squarepants.
Me and my friends retreat to the kitchen, and Kira insisted on bringing real food this time as opposed to just a plethora of candy and junk food. We spend the next hour or so cooking and laughing, and for a while I can forget about Zane and work and my mother.
While we're serving dinner, Mason pulls out a bottle of wretched-looking whipped cream Vodka he apparently stole from his older brother. Charlie and me both agree to a few drinks instantly, but Kira hesitates at first. Her mother is strict and Asian, she insists, but then Mason pushes a glass of straight Vodka at her, and Kira bows to peer pressure.
We all toss back a couple shots and I nearly puke when I taste it. It's like whipped cream mixed with everything awful in the world, and it burns my throat going down. But I force myself to gulp down several more shots, because maybe I'll forget about everything I'm not supposed to be thinking about if I lose myself in some alcohol.
It has the opposite effect.
The more drunk I get, the more I think about Zane, and before I realize I'm even doing it, I've been babbling on and on for ten minutes about Zane's eyes, and how breathtaking his rare smile is, and don't you guys think Zane just has the loveliest green eyes? Mason laughs and calls it Stockholm Syndrome again, and Kira and Charlie scold me and tell me to remember Project FAZ, to never forget. But I have no self-control right now, and I just talk. I hardly say anything that doesn't somehow involve Zane.
I mention what Alfred said about Zane's father being a "piece a work", and I tell my friends about how I'm not supposed to say anything to Zane about his mother, because it's a sore subject. I tell them everything I know. Charlie tells me she's heard rumors about Zane—ones beyond the obvious reputation-based rumors. She heard that he pulled his little brother Liam from a fire when they were young, and he's covered head to toe in burn scars because of it. I'm not sure if I believe that, because I've never seen the scars. But then again, Zane wears so many layers of clothing, it might be possible. It would explain why he's angry all the time.
I brush those thoughts aside when Charlie pulls out a game called Cards Against Humanity. I've never played it before, but I have a lot of fun, and learn things I really should never have to know ever in my life, they're so inappropriate. All four of us end up a laughing, crying mess, Mason rolling around on the floor and Charlie holding herself up from joining him by gripping my arm.
It's only when Sophia comes in and snaps at us to shut up because she's going to bed, that I farewell my friends. They elect to walk home, even though it's cold outside and late. Kira insists that it'll sober them up, and that she can't show up to her house drunk or her mother will never allow her to leave her room again.
I fall into bed that night on my stomach, my face buried in my pillow, and I pass out almost instantly. My dreams are filled with green eyes and a screaming boy, and I see Zane standing there on fire, the flames lapping at his face and neck, melting away his clothes and skin. And he's crying, and it hurts to see Zane crying.
I wake with a jolt sometime around three in the morning, and despite the fact that I'm still a little drunk, and a headache is coming on, I can't fall back asleep, because the dream scared me so much.
21
Zane blinks his eyes open the next morning just as the sun is coming up over the trees of Windsor Falls out his window. The first thing he sees is the origami Yoda mobile he'd bought from Ariel yesterday that he hung next to his Return Of The Jedi poster right above his bed. He just stares at it for a while, watching it spin lazily in the current from the vent above his door as the heat kicks on, the little Yoda's and light sabers bumping into each other as it moves.
He finds himself smiling as he thinks about how flustered she had been yesterday at Alfred's shop when he came in. But then the smile fades from his face when he realizes that he himself was just as flustered, and he'd stammered in her presence.
Shaking his head with a scoff, he shoves himself up from his mattress and wanders down the hall, waking Liam up gently and whipping up breakfast for the both of them. Mike hadn't come home last night, which is a relief, so Liam and Zane don't have to be extra quiet this morning as they get ready for school.
Zane sees Liam off, and starts to walk towards the woods on his way to school. But then, he stops halfway there. He'd really rather not deal with his friends this morning. He doesn't know why, he's just not in the mood to deal with their shit. He turns and heads down the street, deciding to take the long way to school this morning to avoid having to walk by The Docks where his friends are undoubtedly hanging out.
Hugging himself against the chill of the mid-November morning, he wanders down the side of the road. He sees a few people coming out of their houses and getting into their cars, heading to work, and he looks away when a couple of them wave at him. It's way too early to even pretend to be polite. He fishes in his pocket and whips out his pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips and holding it there while he pats his pockets for his lighter.
Just as he flips his Zippo on and lights up his cigarette, he happens to glance up and sees none other than Ariel Riley herself, stepping out of an old blue Victorian house across the street. Zane chokes as he inhales and coughs loudly, tripping in an attempt to duck down behind a parked car so she doesn't look up and see him. Zane stifles his coughs. What the fuck? He never knew he and Ariel lived so close together, just a few blocks apart.
He pulls himself together and peeks around the car he's hiding behind. Ariel has her back to him, and she's straightening a scarf around a young girl's neck. It's the little red-haired girl Zane has seen Ariel at the park with a couple times. Sophia, if he remembers what Liam called her correctly. Ariel's sister. He watches Ariel make sure her jacket and scarf are on snuggly, and then she walks her next door. She drops Sophia off at the neighbor's house, and then she's crossing the street and heading into the woods.
Zane holds his breath until she disappears into the trees, and then lets it out in a whoosh. Man, he feels creepy, just ducking here spying on Ariel. But he can't help it. If he can't have her the way he really wants her, then he'll have to resort to this—stalking the poor girl.
God, he's pathetic.
He shoves himself to his feet and glances at where Ariel disappeared into the woods, making sure she doesn't appear again. Then he takes another drag on his smoke and continues his walk down the street. As he passes, he sees Ariel's neighbor open her door and Sophia comes out of the house with another little boy and an older black woman, who locks the door behind herself and ushers both the kids into the car parked on the curb. Zane has seen the woman before—he thinks maybe she works at Liam's school.
He watches as he walks, until they drive away, and when the woman driving waves at him, he feels strangely obligated to wave back, even though he hates the whole concept of waving at
strangers. Chewing on his cigarette filter, he sighs and runs his hands through his hair, mussing it up as he walks.
It takes him twice as long to get to school since he took the long way, but he's satisfied with the fact that he doesn't have to see his friends first thing this morning. He enters through the front door and heads to his first class ten minutes early, lost in thought.
He spends the rest of the day like that, silent and distracted. He's been like this a lot lately, and he hates himself for it. But he can't help it. Because Ariel is so distracting.
When math class rolls around, he pays attention even less than he usually does, staring at the back of Ariel's head. She's sitting in such a way that he can see the outline of the side of her jaw. It has a few bruises on it from yesterday in the stairwell, but she seems remarkably unaffected by that whole ordeal. He supposes she's sort of used to beatings like that, sort of like Zane is used to Mike and all his shit. But still...it was so noble what she did, defending her friend yesterday.
God, he needs to stop thinking about it. Who cares if it was noble? So what if Ariel is used to being bullied? So what if Ariel Riley has the most gorgeous eyes he has ever seen? So what if he's stuck with this huge crush that came out of fucking nowhere and knocked him on his ass? He needs to just get the fuck over it already, because it's never going to happen—not with someone as admirable and good as Ariel. Zane could never be that lucky.
By the time school lets out that day, Zane's head is aching with his inner turmoil. He feels like hitting something, but at the same time, he doesn't want to. Because Ariel wouldn't want him to. And that just makes him want to hit something more, because who cares what Ariel would want? Ariel doesn't want him, so why does it matter?
