We’re parked in front of Rico’s, my favorite Taqueria. He goes in and emerges a few minutes later holding a paper cup with water in it and a stack of napkins. He opens my door and sets down the cup on the ground. Then he kneels in the doorframe, dips the corner of a napkin in the water, and holds it in the air. “Okay, turn towards me and let’s see what we can do here.”
He begins to gently wipe away the blood on my face and I’m sure I must look like an extra from a horror movie. Nice way to punctuate my earlier mortification. In comparison to the museum-quality specimen kneeling before me, the state I’m in is so comical I almost have to laugh to keep from crying.
Alexander uses every napkin and then finishes by dipping his thumbs in the water and wiping gently underneath my eyes, across my cheeks, and along my chin. His thumb grazes my lips, parting them slightly, and he pauses. In that moment, as our eyes lock, I’m consumed with one thought: please kiss me. Now. I never realized it was possible to feel so powerfully attracted to someone—as if every molecule in my body is straining toward his. Everything else falls away as I will him to lean forward and close the distance between us.
I move closer and Alexander stands abruptly, dropping his hands. “I think I got it all off.”
Embarrassed, I turn in my seat and mumble “thanks,” and quickly gather the remaining spilled items from my purse.
He tosses out the cup and napkins in a recycling bin a few doors down from Rico’s. As he walks back to the driver’s side to get in, I decide to follow through with my original intention before the bloody nose debacle.
“Where are you going?” he asks as I step out of the car.
“I can ride my bike from here.”
“What? That’s crazy. It’s getting dark. Let me drive you. We’re both going to the same place.”
He’s right. What excuse can I give other than that I want to be alone? That I want to be away from him and all his mixed signals that leave me confused and embarrassed?
My grumbling stomach gives me an idea. “I’m going to grab something to eat first. Just leave me my bike, I’ll be fine.”
“What are you talking about? Declan, you’ve just been through a traumatic experience. I’m not going to leave you to ride home in the dark by yourself.”
“I’ll have my mom pick me up.”
He stares at me, bewildered.
I try another tack. “Listen. I’m starving and this is one of my favorite restaurants. If I go home now I’ll be dreaming of their warm chips and salsa all night.”
He continues to stare as if he’s conversing with an alien.
“If you insist on staying then you can come in and eat with me.” I extend the invitation knowing it’s probably the last thing he wants to do.
Surprise plays over his face at my offer and now I’m surprised, too, because I sense indecision. Eventually he shakes his head. “It’s dangerous. I shouldn’t be around you. I’ll wait out here for you to get your food and then I’ll drive you home.”
His eyes lock on mine and I search them for a long beat before I reply.
“Look, can I be honest? You’re scaring me with all this ‘dangerous’ business. But unless you’re going to tell me why, I don’t buy it. I don’t sense any danger from you. Just the opposite in fact. I don’t understand why we have to avoid each other—and I think it’s wildly unfair that you won’t explain it—but I can’t make you, so I’ll just have to accept it. Right now, though, I’m hungry. I’ve had a trying day and I’d like to sit down and eat at this restaurant. I’ll feel rushed if I know you’re out here waiting for me. So how about if we go inside and get some food? It’s out in public, crowded with people—that doesn’t seem dangerous to me. You can go back to keeping your distance tomorrow. In the meantime we’ll just be two mates having dinner as your Australian brethren would say.”
He smiles. “Is that how my brethren would say it?”
I smile back and shrug.
He stares at me, thinking. “Well I am hungry … and it’ll give me a chance to hear about those self-defense moves you learned in your mum and me class.”
“Very funny. It was a good class. If you try anything dangerous I may be forced to demonstrate on you.”
“I think I might like that,” he says with a smile.
My heart does a little flip at his words. Why does he do that? Half the time he’s avoiding me and the other half he’s giving me that smile that makes my knees weak. I decide to ignore his capriciousness for now and just enjoy myself. We walk into the restaurant and over homemade chips and salsa and spicy enchiladas, we end up talking and laughing for hours. I feel so at ease I can’t believe we met only a week ago. He tells me stories about growing up in Australia and about his grandfather. His parents died when he was young and I share that my dad died, too, when I was ten. It still hurts to talk about. Alexander starts to say that he’d like me to meet his grandfather when he stops himself.
“Why can’t we just be friends?” I ask. “Why is that so dangerous?”
He lets out a deep sigh and leans over the table, his eyes holding mine. “Declan, if it was possible for me to be around you and just be your mate, I would.” He peers down at his folded hands. “But it’s not.” When he looks back up, his eyes are dark pools. “Not by a long shot.”
The heat from his gaze makes my throat go dry. Did he really just say that?
Without another word, he lifts the check off the table and walks to the register to pay. I sit dazed as he comes back and lays down some cash for a generous tip. I’m still speechless as we walk out.
It’s a short drive home and when I get out of the car I wait as he lifts my bike out of the back and parks it by the garage.
He walks me up the steps to the front porch and pauses before the door, setting my backpack down. For a long moment he just stares into my eyes. Regret colors his voice as he says “Bye, Declan.”
“Why?” I say quietly. “Why does it have to be this way?”
He shakes his head. “It’s the only way it can be. You have to trust me.”
“I hardly know you.”
“Then trust your heart,” he says softly. He holds my gaze for a moment longer and then turns and walks away.
Trust my heart? My heart wants me to run after him and demand answers. But he’s determined to stay away, and that’s the bottom line. I feel utterly confused and forlorn because I don’t understand anything that has happened and it’s clear he isn’t going to enlighten me.
My mom is waiting in the foyer when I walk in. She’s obviously been peering through the blinds, watching us. “Who was that, sweetie? He looks like a Greek god for heaven’s sakes,” she says with girlish delight.
My mom is a romantic. She and dad met in college and he was the love of her life. She says he literally sparkled when she first saw him. I remember being embarrassed as a kid when I would catch them kissing all the time but inside I cherished the security of knowing they were in love and enjoyed each other’s company so genuinely. I know she wants me to find that same kind of happiness with someone someday, but in this case she’s barking up the wrong tree. Now that I finally like a guy—a lot—he apparently can’t be around me for some reason that involves mysterious danger he won’t explain. It all sounds so crazy when I think about it clearly. Maybe Alexander is dangerous—dangerously insane.
“He’s just a friend from school, mom. He gave me a ride home.”
“So that’s who you were having dinner with when you called?”
I called her from the restaurant to let her know where I was so she wouldn’t worry.
“Yeah, but seriously, mom, it’s no big deal. We ran into each other and we were both hungry so we got some chips and salsa. We’re just friends.” Not even friends, actually. How much further away from friends can you get—let alone boyfriend and girlfriend—than avoiding each other completely?
“Well, I admit I was peeking a little,” she says sheepishly, “and the way he was looking at you, sweetie, it didn’t lo
ok like just friends to me—for either one of you.”
Chapter Five
The next few weeks pass by more slowly than any length of time I have endured in my entire life. It’s maddening to go to school every day and see Alexander keeping his distance from me while he’s friendly with everyone else. Why isn’t it dangerous to be around them? Part of me wonders if it was all a line and I’m a total chump. But the way he looks at me sometimes from across the room …Trust your heart, he said. I don’t even know what that means. All I know is you can’t make someone want to be with you if they don’t want to—whatever the reason. As the weeks go by, our night at the restaurant seems distant and surreal. I’m beginning to think it never happened. What was I thinking anyway? Wanting to add a boyfriend to my life? Between school, work, babysitting, and volunteering at the shelter—not to mention dealing with my panic attacks—the last thing I need is more complications. Especially with “Mr. Dangerous.”
I bury myself in keeping up my GPA, going on long runs, and serving up burgers at Jack’s. Molly publishes the crime story Finn and I worked on for the school paper and we get a lot of great online comments. The story opens with a dramatic purse-snatching and rescue incident that I interweaved throughout to build suspense. I included other stories of campus victims of theft and I provided the latest information on the ring of thieves responsible along with a detailed list of crime-prevention tips. Finn took some great photos and he made a chart that illustrates how a person’s vulnerability to crime decreases as they enact each safety measure. We also created a trend line that shows the recent spike in crime on campus and in San Mar as a whole. Liz told me she thinks it’s one of the best pieces Finn and I have ever done together.
Speaking of Liz and Finn, they don’t know what to make of me. I’m not my typical cheery self and I can’t offer an explanation. I don’t usually keep things from them but what would I say? “Alexander likes me but he says he has to avoid me because he’s dangerous?” When you say it out loud it sounds like either he, or I, or both, are crazy. For that reason alone I should keep my mouth shut, but what if there truly is danger? Wouldn’t it be better if Liz and Finn aren’t involved?
I overhear them talking one day and they chalk up my melancholy to the long stretch of gray weather we’ve been having and a bad case of senioritis. Their explanation is better than any excuse I can come up with so I don’t contradict it. And truth be told, it isn’t all an excuse. I truly am sad this will be our last year together. Finn will probably be off to Stanford (or whatever school he wants, frankly), and Liz is a good bet for Stanford, too. Both of her parents went there and she’s incredibly brilliant and accomplished. Our school’s college counselor said that with my grades and test scores I have a chance at some top schools, too, but I don’t see how we could afford it, even with financial aid. And if I’m being totally honest, my panic attacks weigh heavily, too. What if they get worse under the pressure of being at a four-year college far from home? I hope to go to UCSM but I may end up going to Cabrina, the local community college, and transferring later to save money. No matter what happens, I know Liz, Finn, and I will always be friends, but things will never be the same again and I’m going to miss them. That is a deep and honest truth.
We’re at Surf Pizza having lunch and discussing the upcoming Winter Wonderland dance.
“So, are we going to go?” asks Liz. “Should we start looking for dates?”
I don’t mention that I’m harboring a ridiculous fantasy that Alexander will be overcome with his feelings and ask me to the dance in spite of himself.
“Maybe we should all just go as a group,” I suggest, “like we did last year.”
“Okay, but Liz steps on my feet, so I’m dancing with you, Declan,” Finn states with his usual bluntness.
“Is that so? Well you’re too short for me anyway, Finn,” retorts Liz, pretending to be offended.
Finn just shrugs and smiles. Liz is a smidgen taller than Finn and it’s her go-to taunt whenever he says something insulting. Finn couldn’t care less.
“I’ll bet Scott Griffin is going to ask you again,” I say in a singsong-y lilt to Liz.
“And I’ll bet Ryan Dell is going to ask you-oo,” she sings back. She smiles and sticks her tongue out at me. Scott and Ryan are boys that have liked us for years. They’re both cute and nice enough but neither of us is really interested.
“I thought you were thinking about asking Serena,” I say to Finn.
“Wait, is Serena the girl that you said you didn’t know?” Liz asks Finn.
“That was Selena,” I answer. Selena is a cute girl who approached Finn to say hello when we were walking downtown one day. He stared at her blankly so she reminded him they had taken a summer film class together. No matter how much additional information she provided, Finn insisted he did not remember her. I smoothed it over as best I could and after we walked away I explained what might have been a nicer way to handle it, but Finn said he didn’t want to lie or pretend because he didn’t even know she existed until she walked up and spoke to us.
Liz still looks confused.
“Have you suffered a blow to the head?” I say. “I’m talking about Serena—Finn’s old girlfriend.”
“That Serena? The girl he gave a twenty dollar bill to for Valentine’s Day? Judging by her reaction, Finn, I don’t think she’d be willing to give it another go after that.”
“I still don’t understand what was wrong with it,” Finn argues. “I like to get money as a gift. The problem is with you NTs.”
NT is short for neurotypical and it’s the way Finn refers to people who don’t have Asperger’s or similar brain wiring (or what he calls NDs, for neurodiverse people). The world is full of NTs and NDs according to Finn, and neither group truly understands the other. The highest compliment I think he ever gave me was when he told me in elementary school that I was the best NT he’d ever met.
I throw my arm around his shoulders. “Oh Finn, you know we love you. But if we have to explain again why she was mad, I don’t think it will ever make sense. I, however, as one representative of the female population, would like to say that I would be fine with a twenty dollar bill as a gift. I could put it toward my college fund.
“That’s the funniest thing about the whole story. I would love to get money from a boyfriend. Then you can buy whatever you want,” chimes in Liz, ever practical.
“Exactly,” says Finn, feeling vindicated.
“You know, you two would actually be perfect for each other,” I say jokingly to Liz. “Maybe you and Finn should go to the dance together as a couple.”
I expect Liz to laugh but instead she blushes and then catches herself and coughs out a fake chuckle. Liz. Blushing. The two don’t go together. Has she developed romantic feelings for Finn? After all these years as best friends I wonder if it’s possible. It makes sense, though—they’re like two opposite puzzle pieces that surprise you when they fit together seamlessly.
Finn, meanwhile, is oblivious and already on to the next topic, asking if we’re ready for our upcoming chemistry test. He has no idea anything has changed between him and Liz. He isn’t great at reading people. I’ll have to talk with him later when we’re alone.
Mrs. Bing calls early Saturday morning to ask if I can watch Charlie at noon. I have schoolwork to do and I was looking forward to a day off work, but she’s desperate so I tell her of course I’ll help. She thanks me profusely before hanging up.
I go for a long run, take a shower and I’m downstairs and ready to go at 11:45. My mom has already left for an open house showing.
I drive Archie over to the Bing’s and as I pull up to the curb, Charlie is waiting for me outside.
“Declan!” he yells as he runs towards me. I get out and greet him with a giant bear hug.
“Hey little man,” I say with a smile as I release him, “do you know you have a Cheerio stuck to your cheek?”
Charlie probes around his face with his chubby fingers until he feels the Ch
eerio. He plucks it off and pops it in his mouth with a satisfied grin.
“Declan,” I turn to see Mrs. Bing striding toward me on the front lawn with her keys and a large tote bag in her hand. She’s looks as if she’s dressed to go sailing. “Thank you so much for coming on short notice.”
“Mommy, can I go to the park?” Charlie asks.
“Sure, honey,” she answers. “You can take him to the park for as long as you like,” she says, turning toward me. “I’ll be back this evening. Not sure what time. Can I text you?”
Charlie takes my hand and pulls in the direction of the park down the street. “C’mon Declan, let’s goooo!”
I laugh and turn to Mrs. Bing as I’m being yanked away. “Texting is fine. Stay as late as you want. Have a nice time!”
I hope it will be a late night. I count my savings in thousand dollar increments to keep me motivated and I only need $132 more to make the next thousand. If Mrs. Bing’s date goes well it could push me over the edge. That’ll make up for having to cram all my homework in tomorrow after my shift at Jack’s.
At the park, Charlie is having a great time running around the jungle gym and going down the slides. He makes friends with a little boy named Marky and they pretend to be dinosaurs, running around and hiding behind the many trees in the park and jumping out, trying to scare one another. Marky’s mom and I chat on one of the benches as we watch them. Eventually, Marky has to go home and Charlie takes a break to tell me he’s thirsty. We walk over to the water fountain and I notice he has something in his hand.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“A toy.” He holds it out to me. It’s a small snow globe of a stark, black and white winter scene. A broken fence runs behind one leafless tree in the middle of powdery snow with a gray sky. Charlie shakes it and the snow disperses and then drifts down to settle on the ground again.
“Where’d you get it?”
“That man over there. He said he was your friend.” He points and as I follow where his finger leads I feel as though I exit my body. Avestan is sitting on a bench on the other side of the park, watching us. He smiles and waves. I grasp the edge of the water fountain to steady myself as my heart pounds.
Guardian (The Guardian Series Book 1) Page 6
