Bound

by Jennifer Dean

  “Thanks,” I said gratefully. “I thought I might be stuck out here till fifth period.”

  “My pleasure,” he said.

  It was the first time I really had a moment to look at Liam Alexander. His dirty blonde hair was cut short and styled in a slight flipped upward curl with subtle sideburns. It was a modern and yet old fashioned touch. But what held my longing gaze was the bright glow of emerald green occupying his eyes. I had seen many eye colors before, but these were on another cosmic level. Did guys wear colored contacts too?

  I had to blink to keep myself from staring too long, even at the subtle sophistication of his clothes. But I knew I had expired the normal time of staring. My mental clock told me anymore and I was sure I would come across as odd. That would be all I needed, I thought. Immediately I shifted my gaze to the floor instead.

  “Maybe next time we meet, I won’t need rescuing,” I said.

  “Oh, you never know, Emma.”

  My eyes shifted back up instantly with surprise.

  “How do you know my name?”

  Sure, I had learned his name but how had he learned—

  “You’re Sean Morgan’s little sister,” he said interrupting my mental question.

  “Oh,” I said with a disappointment. There it was. Something I had been used to all my life. I was more known for being called Sean’s little sister or baby Morgan than I was Emma.

  “I just meant that I had heard around school that Sean’s little sister, Emma”—he paused to lift his eyebrow, a simple way of letting me know he picked up on the annoyance of most people never using my first name—“was back in Washington. And since I saw you walking with him this morning, I could only assume.”

  “Didn’t they ever tell you what assumptions make?” I asked rhetorically. Liam merely lifted his left eyebrow.

  “Am I wrong?” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Not with arrogance but with true curiosity.

  “Well, no. But that’s not the point.”

  He grinned with amusement. I simply scrunched my lips to the side with small embarrassment. Sort of like that kind you get after you go into a long explanation only to realize that wasn’t what the person wasn’t going to ask anyway.

  The moment almost felt like a cliché, and I had had enough. Plus, I was already embarrassingly late for class, if I wasn’t already beyond that.

  “Well, I better be off to Spanish before I am any later. Aren’t you late for something?”

  “Office Aid,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes as I turned. Well, wouldn’t that have been a nice free elective to take. As I began to walk, I thought of something. The reason why I couldn’t register to be an office aid myself this year. “Wait, I thought you had to be a senior . . .” My voice faded as I realized I was talking to myself again. Liam was nowhere in sight. I sighed with my small shrug before turning back down the hall.

  I walked into the classroom and was reminded of my late arrival. I felt the stare of the class on me. Never a good kind of attention. As I looked to the slightly annoyed gaze of my new Spanish teacher, I cowered.

  “I’m sorry. I had trouble with my locker,” I said.

  The annoyance never really faded, but his posture straightened with a slight forgiveness. “I’ll let it slide on the first day, Ms.——?”

  He went back over to his desk to grab a white sheet. The roll call. One that I had missed.

  “Morgan,” I said.

  He looked down on his list, using his pen as a guide. He tapped a spot that was three-quarters of the way down the sheet.

  “Emma?”

  “Yes,” I acknowledged.

  “Emma.”

  The voice wasn’t Mr. Ocampo’s. It was a whisper I heard from my left. I turned to see it was Pamela Mercer, gesturing me over to the empty seat next to her. I didn’t hesitate to gravitate toward it after the silent nod of approval from Mr. Ocampo.

  Even the way my old friend was sitting I could tell that she was taller than I was now. Talk about Twilight Zone again. When I had left, she had been into the short and sassy hairstyle. Now her beautiful straight brown strains had grown thickly down past her shoulder blades.

  I smiled back to her with an awkward wave, not because it was awkward to be around her. It was just awkward that I couldn’t give her a proper hug without disturbing the class again.

  “I thought Texas got a lot of sun, Emma? You don’t even look like you walked outside a day since you were there.”

  There was nothing cruel in her teased whisper. And to be honest, she was right. With no surprise to me, my skin was still the same ivory color. Not a shade higher or lower. It wasn’t because I never went outside but more the fact that I rarely burned from the sun and certainly never tanned. So it made it mostly impossible for any change. But the advantage between me and most girls came from make-up. Unlike having to match up from the effects of summer sun or pale winter, my skin stayed consistent.

  “Well, my skin has some resilience to sunlight. It’s like rubber. Nothing sticks to it,” I said. I was pinching my wrist and silently laughing at myself. “They also don’t ride horses to school either.”

  I couldn’t resist the chance to tease after remembering that Pamela was the one friend to ask if I would be getting a horse. I wasn’t quite sure who had spread that rumor this far east. But she had been quite convinced that all Texans used the four-legged animal for transportation instead of vehicles. I hoped someone had informed her while I was gone that we don’t live in the 1800s anymore.

  “Bummer!” She smiled while snapping her fingers. Thankfully, someone had, and she was able to laugh at herself. I’m not quite sure what my answer would have been if she hadn’t. I traded it in for something with better gas mileage?

  I was grateful that Spanish had been the period before lunch. It meant I didn’t have to walk into the cafeteria alone.

  “Volleyball tryouts for next fall are after school. Are you going?” Pamela asked. Her eyes widened with a sense of eagerness to see me play again. At least they were until she watched my shifted gaze and inward turn of my lips. I didn’t have to answer for her to know. “You don’t play anymore?” she asked.

  I shrugged with the shake of my head. “No.”

  Her eyes unintentionally narrowed as her head moved back in surprise. I couldn’t blame her reaction. Volleyball had been my life for six years. It had been where I made most of my friendships. But from the moment I left Washington soil, I left the desire to play. It was almost like without Sean there to support me, I didn’t care to play. Maybe it was a little bit of a depression, and I didn’t want to be involved with anything that reminded me of our separation. So I quit. But now that I was back, I could honestly say that any desire that was left for the sport had faded out. The damage had been done, and the once-athlete was gone.

  “Erika is going to be so disappointed,” she said.

  She was handing the lunch woman some money. By the look of her dropped shoulders, I could see Erika Reynolds wasn’t the only one disappointed. I looked away to grab a hamburger and a bottle of Red Diamond tea.

  “Aren’t you Sean Morgan’s little sister?” a voice said on my right.

  “Who’s asking?” My tone was somewhat bored and uninvolved to the question.

  “The source himself.”

  I turned to see Sean’s empty hands and charming smile. I rolled my eyes somewhat embarrassed to not have recognized his voice. Had that subtly changed too?

  “Good to see you, Pamela,” Sean said.

  She had that goofy smile that most girls got around Sean. He wasn’t popular by sports even though he was quite the natural athlete. He was even much better than me, even though I was technically the “family” athlete, a term my dad had come up with just to piss off Sean. Of course, it never worked because Sean didn’t care enough to listen. No, Sean’s popularity was always by default of his personality. He was charming, easy going, and friendly to everyone. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with my brother?
>
  “Hi, Sean,” Pamela said. There was a nervous stumble in her voice as she looked back to me. “I’ll meet you at the table, Emma. I should break the news to them anyway.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “What news?” Sean said. He was beaming like he already anticipated what I would say.

  “That I’m not playing… this year.”

  I had unintentionally paused through the end of my sentence, when my eyes caught the attention of two girls behind Sean. It was almost like the room had been frozen for their entrance. Slightly a step ahead of the other revealed a girl with long naturally loose red curls. The light copper of her hair pulled out the paleness of her skin with beautiful flowing contrast. Though I could see she was wearing ballerina flats, it didn’t hide the tall frame that balanced perfectly with her thin curves. I expected she was the type of girl you would soon see on the next issue of Vogue, talking about her next big movie role.

  Her petite friend, who I noticed stood at the same height—with the help from some questionable heels— had beautiful straight dark hair inches below her shoulder blades. But it was the grace in each stride she took that pulled my attention. It mimicked a royal princess’s. I even expected her to wave to the lunchroom crowd any minute as she and her ginger friend neared Sean and I.

  But to my surprise they both stopped, letting the dark haired princess bend her head with a small nod toward Sean and me. Immediately, I was drawn up into her bright electric sapphire eyes. Their unnatural beauty summoned me.

  “Sean,” she said.

  It wasn’t a hello but more of an observation of who she was looking at.

  “Grace,” Sean said with the same observational tone. So, that was the girl’s name. Grace. How appropriate, I thought.

  Suddenly as if she had heard my thought the blue of her eyes shined down on me like a flashlight. Wow, I thought.

  “Is this your younger sister?” Grace asked.

  Sure, she looked at me but continued to engage with Sean. Her soft voice held the intrigue of a historian’s, curious to know if her facts were correct.

  “Yes, this is Emma,” Sean said.

  His grin was friendly but nothing about his tone was inviting. It was enough to make Grace’s eyes flicker back over to Sean. The indifference of both seemed to bounce off the other. It was strange.

  I couldn’t help but look in another direction, a direction that caught the gaze of Grace’s friend, Ginger-a name that was fitting enough until I learned the real one- and her bright chestnut brown gaze.

  And strangely, even though we didn’t know each other at all, the exchange felt more pleasant than Sean and Grace’s. Beneath the shine of the girl’s eyes was a genuine hello, a gesture that was followed by a curve of her lips. Unfortunately, when she broke the gaze to focus on Sean, it wasn’t with the same courtesy. In fact, I could detect a small annoyance through her newly tightened lips and narrowed eyes.

  The moment between us all seemed hours long, though I knew better. It was probably not even but a few minutes.

  “Well, Emma, welcome back to Washington,” Grace said.

  It was not even a second’s worth gaze before she turned on her heel. As I watched the same stride, she had entered with, I thought how funny it was to discover her name. Almost like her parents would know that she would carry the name with an absolute truth.

  I had only just looked back up to see Sean’s grin when he said, “See you after school.” He didn’t waste time with an explanation before leaving me behind.

  In a matter of minutes, I was surrounded and the next I was alone. Okay, I thought. I shifted my eyes left to right, not really focusing on anything but hearing the sarcasm in my voice. That wasn’t weird at all.

  I sighed before walking back over toward the center table where Pamela had gone. When I got to the table, I put my tray down, catching all the friendly smiles. Until fifth period, I had been dreading lunch all day. Even though I knew I still had Sean, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to take the offer. That felt like my fault, but the move was so sudden I barely had time to call Sean, let alone any of my old friends. It was good to know that small stress was over. I was just as welcomed as I had been when I left three years ago.

  I noticed Lauren Stevens first. She was probably the closest of any of my old friends because we had the most in common. That or maybe because we had similar low-key personalities. She had cut her naturally wavy dark brown hair short and had added bangs. She was sitting on Pamela’s right side, across from Rebecca Davis. Becca had her long curly brown hair pulled back today in a ponytail. She hadn’t changed at all except for the curls in her hair that were looser.

  I didn’t even mind that Heather Johnson was also there. It didn’t take me long to notice she had the same long light blonde hair, tall figure, and tan skin. My eyes followed her disappointment in my lunch choice. Right on time with the judgment, I thought. It was enough to remind me why she was never a personality I preferred to hang with outside of volleyball, something that had put us together by convenience, not choice. That and the odd coincidental fate that our fathers happened to be best friends in high school.

  Yikes. Now, there was a man who just by remembrance made me think the words chip off the old block. I could see things hadn’t really changed on that for Heather. Of course, she had looked up with the other girls at my arrival but tried to pretend once I neared that it wasn’t anything special. She knew how to make someone feel welcome as long as it was beneficial to her. Good thing I wasn’t really new. I can imagine I could be quite intimidated by a girl like Heather.

  “Pamela told us that you gave up volleyball. Really?” Erika asked.

  I hadn’t noticed until now that she was on my right. Her blue eyes and heart-shaped face stood out with her long wavy dark brown hair. Hair that was almost black. My self-esteem was always boosted when I saw Erika’s pale skin. It actually made mine look full of color. But since her hair was darker now, it actually made her look exotic. Her voice carried an incredulous tone. I felt my face scrunch with sympathy.

  “Yeah. But I promise I’ll still come watch a few games when the season starts.”

  “Well, that’s not exactly the answer I was looking for, but I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter.” She grinned with a small shrug that showed defeat and yet understanding.

  “I see you caught the eye of the Grace Alexander,” Heather said.

  “Which one is that?” I asked.

  I hadn’t been sure if there were more than one girl named Grace. Or maybe I just enjoyed seeing that squirm from Heather. She turned around in a much pretentious way. Okay, was that really necessary, I thought. But when I turned my gaze, I found that it was the girl I had met. Only there was something about the way Heather said caught the eye. What the heck did that mean?

  “She looked at Sean too,” I said innocently. Because what could I have done to already have gotten a look from anybody?

  “Yeah, but everyone looks at Sean.”

  True, I thought. I ignored Heather’s hidden insult as my mind began to register the girl’s last name. Alexander. Instantly, a set of bright emerald green eyes flashed into my memory. “Is that Liam Alexander’s sister?”

  I noticed I had more than just Heather’s attention now. Even Erika, who was busy in mid-conversation, was gazing with the corner of her eye.

  “Older sister,” Pamela said with her eyes beaming with curiosity. “How do you know Liam?”

  I guess that meant Liam was in our grade. For some reason, I would have had that backwards. There was envy in Pamela’s eyes. Maybe it was more jealousy, but looking over to Heather I definitely saw envy.

  “I’ve already met him…twice.” Well, technically the first time he didn’t say anything, but we interacted. That counted. “Tall, blonde with really green eyes?”

  “Oh yeah, that’s him,” Becca said. “Definitely green,” she whispered. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who questioned whether or not his eyes were enhanced with false
color.

  “You actually talked to him?” Heather asked.

  The idea was inconceivable to Heather by her tone and raised eyebrows. She was used to that attention from any guy that she fancied. Well, except for Sean. But he wasn’t really into high school girls. I was thankful for that because being around Heather constantly would make me want to stick pins in my ears.

  “He helped me with my locker,” I said. I was going to mention the pens, but there was no good way to start that without it coming across as weird. He picked up my pens or He helped me with my pens. Even in my mind the wording sounded odd. “Is he not usually friendly?” I was trying to decode what they were saying. It was like anyone getting an interaction with Liam was a rarity.

  “No, he’s very polite. When he’s around,” Becca said. “Last semester he was absent a lot from class.”

  “He did seem to disappear a lot,” I said.

  “And we never saw him come to lunch once last semester,” Pamela added.

  “I heard the teachers let him eat and do his homework in the lounge,” Becca said.

  “No, they don’t,” Pamela said.

  “Well, then where does he go?” Becca asked. She raised her eyebrows defiantly as if to say, prove me wrong.

  “Well, maybe his parents sign him out because he has some illness. That’s why he missed a lot of class last semester.”

  “That’s stupider than what I said,” Becca argued.

  I resisted the desire to laugh by biting my lip. Even if their assumptions were a bit rumor wide, I couldn’t help my eyes shifting around for proof. I didn’t see him anywhere. No matter what the reason was, it was just strange. I looked toward the table Grace Alexander was sitting. There was Ginger sitting next to her, along with another similarly dark-haired boy. I noticed he sat intimately close with Ginger.

  “Who is Grace Alexander sitting with?” I asked curiously.

  “That’s her twin brother, William, and his girlfriend, Lillian Edwards,” Lauren said. “They only started here last semester.”