“Oh God, that’s terrible.” He continued to study her permanently marred fingers and palm. “It must have been a really bad accident.”
“Yeah, it was,” she whispered as the image of the crumpled car and glow of ambulance lights flashed in her mind.
He peeked up at her past the heavy chunk of hair that covered his eyes. “You know, they look like little starbursts.”
“Whatever you say,” she replied, not seeing it.
“Give me the other one,” he commanded, as if her feelings weren’t involved. For some reason she obeyed and extended her other hand. He examined both palms, lightly trailing his thumb and fingers over the surface of her skin. Shivers ran up her arms.
“No, they’re not starbursts.” He continued to touch each mark. “They’re angel kisses. It’s like angels kissed your hands all over.” His eyes rose to meet hers. They were filled with kindness and compassion. Something she had felt little of the past year.
Only Peter could turn the violent scars from a devastating accident into something beautiful. He was the sweetest person she’d ever met. Without another word, he lifted first one hand and then the other and kissed each little mark on her tender, scarred hands.
Libby’s mouth opened in wonder. Peter bent over her damaged hands. His soft lips pressed to them. His warm breath tickled her skin as his lips gently moved. Goosebumps danced up her arms and her stomach flipped. Never in her life had she felt this way. His tender kisses were heaven. She never wanted this moment to end. For once she thanked God for the ugly scars.
Peter looked up, her hands cradled in his, as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. His eyes, a deep pool of liquid brown, melted into hers. Libby’s breath slowed. Today her world was perfect. This beautiful boy held her captive. His expression confirmed he felt the same. They leaned their heads closer, just inches apart.
Something moved out of the corner of her eye.
“Ouch! Crap.”
They looked up just in time to see Peter’s brother Adam slip down the side of the boulder, and drop his fancy camera in the process.
“What the?” Peter exclaimed. They jumped away from each other as if guilty of some terrible act. Adam, crouched at the bottom of the large boulder checking his camera for damage.
“Adam, what the hell are you doing?” Peter yelled, their moment shattered.
“Looking for you, nimrod. Dad’s really pissed. You were supposed to be back an hour ago.”
“Shit,” Peter said under his breath.
Adam resumed his picture taking, focusing on Libby and Peter.
“Stop it.” Peter reached for the camera. “Don’t make me break that thing.”
“Hey, I’ve got some great stuff here, this new lens is amazing. I’ve heard the paparazzi use this type too. I got it all, Peter, including your nose hairs. You should really trim them.” Adam ducked out of Peter’s reach before he could get smacked.
“Libby, please excuse my “little” brother. As you can see he is mentally challenged.”
“Hi.” Libby said, mortified to be discovered at such a vulnerable time.
Adam flashed her a huge grin.
“Adam here is going to hightail it back to the bus and tell them I’m on my way. That way I won’t have to break his fingers. Right?” Peter stood and glared at his brother.
“Dad would be pretty ticked if you did that. Plus, who’d play lead for you, so you don’t go off key all the time.”
“Libby, can you find me a rock? I need to throw it at Adam?”
“Geez, you really know how to spoil a party,” Adam complained.
Peter faked a throw.
“I’m going, I’m going.” Adam turned and hurried down the trail, occasionally jumping from one large rock to another, his camera held tightly.
Peter turned to her.
“I’m so sorry. My family is the worst. They drive me nuts.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Libby smiled. She would give anything to have a family again. Especially one like his.
“We better get going. My dad hates to be kept waiting.”
They rushed back, covering the ground in a fraction of the time it took to get there. Peter took her hand often to help her over large boulders that blocked the path.
When they arrived at the break in the woods, the engine of the grand tour bus rumbled impatiently. Adam leaned against a tree, futzing with buttons on his camera.
“This was great,” Libby said. She hated to see it end. The day was glorious.
“Hey, we head back down to Chicago on Saturday. I can’t promise anything, but I bet I can talk my mom into a stop here. Any chance you could meet me? Can I call you?”
First excitement, then panic, hit. Visions of Aunt Marge answering the phone filled her mind. “No, you can’t call. I’m sorry.” She softened. “But I can be here. I’ll wait for you.”
“No phone either, huh?” He winked. “It’ll probably be around lunchtime, I’m sorry I can’t give you an exact time.” He spoke fast, looking to the bus every few seconds. “I’ll meet you at that flat rock outcropping where I found you today.”
“I’ll be there.” She would wait all day if need be. Anything for another chance to see Peter. His gaze gave her such hope.
“I’ve gotta run. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Peter jogged easily across the field toward the bus, Adam at his side.
“Sorry to interrupt back there. Looks like you were about to get some.”
Peter shoved him away. “Shut it.”
Chapter 4
The next day Mr. Hursley gave final instructions to the class.
“Be sure to save your work often, the network has been acting up again, and it would be a shame to have the best Homecoming flyer Rockville High ever fall victim to a cyber death.”
He took a cursory lap around the room to make sure everyone was on task. The tap of keyboards in action filled the room. Satisfied, Mr. Hursley eased into his desk chair, adjusted his outdated bifocals and settled into the sports section.
Libby eyed the people around her. To her right sat two stuck-up girls who believed the world revolved around them. The drama queens scooted their chairs tight together and whispered under the hum of two dozen computers. On her left lounged basketball star, aka chick magnet, Tom West, his incredibly long legs stretched far beneath the table. He peered toward the teacher’s desk, where Mr. Hursley buried himself behind the newspaper. Tom slid on tiny earphones and began nodding to the beat of unheard music. How Tom manipulated the tiny ipod with his giant hands, Libby couldn’t fathom.
With everyone’s attention elsewhere, she hunched closer to the keyboard, clicked on the internet icon and typed in “Google”. Instantly the screen popped up, startling her. Most kids spent hours surfing the web. The only time Libby touched a computer was to work on school assignments during class. Aunt Marge would never own something as progressive as a computer; she lived in the Dark Ages. For the first time in many months, Libby was motivated to break the rules a little and play on the web.
Her nerves betrayed her as her hands began to shake. She pulled away from the keyboard as if burned. This was silly. She never broke the rules and this was so simple. She wasn’t defacing school property. She wanted to know more about Peter and the information was just a few keystrokes away.
She took a deep breath and rested her arms on the desk. With nervous concentration she clicked on the search box and typed.
“Peter Jamieson.”
Seeing his name on the screen, even though she put it there, brought him to life as if he sat right before her. She drew her hands away. Why was she nervous? She’d worked hard not to care about anything anymore, but now she wanted this so badly, her stomach hurt.
She bit her lower lip, reached out with her right index finger and pressed enter.
4,710,084 items in 0.23 seconds.
Libby’s jaw dropped. A list displayed item after item and most included a photo of Peter or Peter with his bro
thers.
She leaned back in the chair, her hand covering her mouth. Over four million hits! This couldn’t possibly be right, but there it was, his familiar smile over and over.
Disbelief didn’t begin to express her emotions. It made no sense. Why would the boy on the screen want to be her friend? What would a guy like Peter see in her? Was she going nuts? No, she still remembered the touch of his lips on her hands. It was insane
She leaned forward, oblivious to the world around her and began to read the headings.
Peter Jamieson, official fan site.
Peter Jamieson, Song Writing Genius, Strikes Gold with New Album.
Peter Jamieson Along with Brothers Garrett and Adam, Kick Off Sold-Out Triple Threat Tour.
Peter Jamieson Visits Kids at Tulsa Children’s Hospital.
Peter Jamieson, Lead Singer of the Band Jamieson, Rocks Denver.
Libby reached for the mouse to advance the page.
“Miss Sawyer, that doesn’t look anything like a homecoming flyer.”
She jumped in her seat, knocking her knee against the table leg, then whipped around. Mr. Hursley stood planted behind her, arms crossed. Libby swallowed.
“Are you finished with your work already or do you need detention to help get you back on track?” Mr. Hursley didn’t mess around.
“No,” she responded, her eyes like a deer in the headlights. The heat in her body rose up her neck to her face, turning it a hot pink. Don’t cry.
Basketball boy and the gossip girls watched, entertained to witness her embarrassment.
Mr. Hursley leaned forward, took the mouse and clicked the web page closed. Peter vanished from sight, as if he’d never existed. The void on the screen hit like a punch to her gut.
“Let’s get back on task, shall we?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Yes, sir,” she mumbled wondering how she could go on with anything now that she knew where to find Peter. Everything about him was so near, only a few keystrokes away.
“I don’t want to contact your parents.” He paused and corrected himself. “I’m sorry, I mean your aunt.”
Nothing like pity to stay out of trouble.
The two snotty girls stared at her, arrogance worn on their over-made faces. “The brainiac is so strange even her parents don’t want her,” one whispered loudly. The other giggled.
For once Libby didn’t care about their comments. Peter was so close. Just a computer screen away. It took determination not to bring him right back up on the screen. She couldn’t risk Aunt Marge getting a call. The last thing she wanted was to deal with an Aunt Marge fit. Libby needed a plan. She had to find a way to spend time on the computers without interruption or threat of detention. Just her and Peter alone.
Now she had a mission and the courage to see it through.
# # #
“That’s beautiful, Peter. Something new?” Karen Jamieson eased into the seat across from her son to enjoy the gentle melody as the bus rolled toward New Mexico. The other boys played video games in back.
“Yeah, I can’t stop thinking about it.” He held the guitar naturally, as if it were an extension of his body. His talented fingers manipulated the strings and created a beautiful tune that drifted through the bus.
“That’s always a good sign.” Her son was growing into an amazing young man. Why did time pass so quickly? It seemed just a moment ago, he had cried for his first guitar.
Peter possessed an innate talent for song writing. When inspired, magic flowed and hits were born, but if he tried to force it, the songs flopped.
“You were gone a long time when we stopped in Rockville,” she said.
“Yeah, great day for a walk.” He strummed, working out a chord. The music held his concentration. “Did you know there are amazing rock formations in there? There’s this trail that goes way back. The temperature is like twenty degrees cooler and there are ferns and moss growing everywhere.” He stopped playing. “It’s really cool.”
“Is it your inspiration for this new song?” She suspected so and more.
“Yeah, I guess.” He resumed playing, a dreamy look on his face.
“Did your new friend show it to you?”
His head snapped up. Karen wanted to laugh at how transparent he was.
“How’d you know?”
Her eyebrows rose and head tilted in suggestion.
“Adam.” Peter frowned.
“He can’t help himself. He’s just having fun. So tell me about this girl. What’s her name?”
“Libby.”
“And?”
“And what?” He grinned, not about to offer more.
Why must boys always be so evasive? Getting information out of them was like pulling teeth. “Tell me about her. When my son disappears for two hours with a girl, I get to ask questions.”
“Mom, I’ll be eighteen soon and then you don’t get to ask any more,” he teased.
“That’s what you think. Mothers have amazing powers of persuasion.”
“There’s not much to tell. She lives in Rockville.”
“Two hours and that’s all you got? You want to tell me how you filled the rest of the time?”
Peter grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Young man, I did not raise you to treat girls like that.” She trusted him, though. Peter wasn’t the type of kid to act out or rush into anything without thinking it through.
“Here’s something juicy for you. She’s never heard of Jamieson.”
She eyed him, doubtful. Everyone knew about Jamieson; unless they lived under a rock.
“I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t think it possible either, but she had no idea. It’s pretty nice really. When I told her about the band, she figured we play weddings and school dances.”
“I see why you like her,” Karen said. Peter was attracted to things that were low-key and simple, which explained how he could write such powerful lyrics. They came from the heart.
“She’s nice.” He offered nothing more and began to play again.
She worried about the boys growing up in a business where girls constantly adored them. It was not an atmosphere conducive to meeting the right kind of girls or making real friends. Dating was another challenge. Unless they boys found someone inside the industry, which didn’t seem likely, she didn’t know how they would meet anyone special. They needed to be with young people their own age on an equal playing field.
“You know, on Saturday we’ll be going back though that area.” She watched him and waited for his reaction.
“Really? Do you think we can stop? I’d love to check out that area some more.”
“I bet you would,” she said.
“What?” He feigned innocence.
Karen almost laughed at his nonchalance. “I was just agreeing with you.” She tried to control the smirk on her face. “But, yes, I think we can stop.”
Her cell phone rang. She stood to go answer it. “By the way, what’s the name of your new song?”
“Angel Kisses.”
She hid a smile and left Peter to his music.
# # #
Libby knocked on Miss Orman’s open door, desperate to get her help.
“Hey, Libby, I haven’t seen you for a while. How are you doing?” A half sandwich, a container of yogurt and an apple sat on the desk near her keyboard.
“Good, thanks.” Libby scanned the cramped office, as she tried to get up the nerve to ask.
Miss Orman smiled at her knowingly. “Is there something in particular I can help you with?”
“Actually yes.” She eyed Miss Orman’s PC, and twisted the pendant she always wore. “I need to use a computer.”
“Why don’t you use the computer lab after school?”
“I can’t do it before or after school, I ride the bus. And there’s a class in the computer lab during my lunch.” Libby offered her best pathetic, begging look.
Miss Orman seemed to consider her decision. “I take it this is very important to you?”
<
br /> Libby nodded and held her breath. She needed to get back on the internet and check out some of the Peter Jamieson sites.
“Well I suppose I could actually go to the lounge and eat lunch for a change, instead of making a mess out of my office.” She glanced sideways at Libby. “Would right now be a good time?”
Libby nodded again, bringing a smile to Miss Orman’s face.
“Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. You sell tickets for the Friday football game fan bus tomorrow during lunch and I’ll clear out right now.”
“Done,” she blurted. Even though she hated the idea of sitting alone at a table in the commons all through lunch, she’d agree to anything to get on Miss Orman’s computer.
“Alright, let me log off. We can’t let the secret inner workings of the school leak out,” she teased as her fingers clicked on the keyboard to save and close files.
Libby’s toe tapped as she anticipated computer time alone with Peter. Miss Orman grinned at her as she tidied the area around her keyboard and picked up her lunch items.
“I should be able to give you a good thirty minutes. Will that work?”
“Thank you, I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Libby wanted to hug her, but wished she’d hurry up.
“No problem, have fun.” She moved past Libby to the door then turned back. “By the way, no porn sites.”
“Okay, if you insist.” Libby said with a smile.
Once Miss Orman left, Libby nudged the door partly closed to discourage anyone from dropping in. She eased into the counselor’s chair, enjoying the comfort.
This time she didn’t hesitate. She brought up the search engine, typed Peter’s name and hit enter. Bingo! The sight of his face on the screen filled her with so much joy she could barely contain herself.
“Yes, yes, yes.” She squealed and stamped her feet.
Immediately immersed in a world of Peter and the group called Jamieson, she went from one site to another soaking up every word and photo. Jamieson was huge. They’d performed everywhere including major sporting events, talk shows and award shows. Peter must think she lived under a rock, which was sort of true.
Rock and a Hard Place Page 4
