“Maybe you ought to move,” Jack headed back toward his car.
Daniel sighed. “Not a bad idea. Any homes for sale your way?”
“Yeah, Tara’s old one is.”
Curiosity filled me. What if...
Jack waved. “Good night, Tara. Thanks for studying with me.”
“Thank you, too, Jack.”
He grinned. “Tonight, as you’re going to bed, revel in that look of pain on his face. Even if it’s for a second.” He winked at me.
I bit my lip, chuckling. I waved as he drove off, then followed Daniel inside.
The kitten was nibbling his chin as I closed the door.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Nathaniel’s birthday present,” I said. Before he could argue with me or ask about Jack and Jerrick, I shouted, “Nathaniel!”
I dropped my backpack onto the floor by the door.
A second later, Nathaniel appeared at the top of the stairs. “What?” And then, as he saw the kitten in Daniel’s hands, his eyes lit up. He slid down the banister and leapt off, landing with grace. “Are you serious?”
I took the kitten from Daniel and handed it to Nathaniel. “Happy birthday!”
He cradled the feline in his arms. “She’s perfect.” When Nathaniel looked at me, there were tears in his eyes mixed with the smile. “Did your mom say it was okay?”
“Is she home?” I looked at Daniel.
He shook his head. “She was headed into surgery two hours ago when I last spoke with her. She might be between cases now.”
Nathaniel’s smile faded.
“Guess I’ll call her,” I said.
They followed me down the hall into the kitchen. I pulled myself up onto the counter and took the phone off the hook. It had been such a long time since I’d called Mom’s cell, I couldn’t help but hesitate. Negative source trickled in with the sense of apprehension that stole over me. I took a deep breath and called her. It rang several times with no response, and I was preparing for a voicemail when she answered.
“Hello?”
“Mom,” I said.
“Tara, what’s wrong?”
Of course, she assumed that—I never called her unless there was some kind of problem.
“Nothing’s wrong. I got a kitten for Nathaniel.”
Silence.
She wouldn’t say no. I knew she wouldn’t—which was the only reason I had the guts to bring the kitten home. Mom had never once told me no since Dad died.
At that moment, Oops stepped out of the bathroom down the hall, with her damp hair half braided. “You got a what?”
Nathaniel held up the kitten. “Tara got her for me.”
“A kitty!” Oops ran over. “Can I hold her?”
“For a minute,” Nathaniel said.
Still Mom said nothing.
“Mom?” I picked up a strand of my hair and began to look through it for split ends. “I was over at Jack’s this afternoon. One of his cats had kittens. It seemed meant to be.”
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” Mom said.
“I was helping him study.”
Again, silence.
Daniel whispered. “Next time, do you mind calling and letting me know?”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Tara,” he grumbled.
For once, I nodded in compliance.
“Thank you.”
“Okay,” Mom finally said, with an exasperated sigh.
“Okay, as in he can keep it?” I looked up at Nathaniel.
The grin returned to his face.
“Yes, sure.” Mom ended the phone call without a goodbye, and I knew she wasn’t happy about the cat.
I smiled at Nathaniel. “She’s yours.”
“Thank you! Thank you, thank you!” Nathaniel gave me a side hug.
I ruffled his hair, not quite comfortable with the hug.
“What are you going to call her?” Oops asked.
Nathaniel held up the kitten, and the two looked each other in the eyes. They were going to be some friends, weren’t they? Maybe I’d go back to Jack’s for a second because now I wanted one.
“Marion,” he said.
Daniel folded his arms. “After where you and your mom lived?”
Nathaniel nodded.
I slid off the counter and headed back toward the stairs. “She’s not allowed in my room!”
“Of course not,” Nathaniel said.
Just like he and Oops weren’t allowed in my room. Supposedly.
Smiling, I retrieved my backpack and headed up the stairs.
I sighed a breath of relief as I stepped into my room. Jack knows. Collapsing backward onto my bed, I closed my eyes. Having an actual ally, someone who believed me, but not only that, defended me, felt liberating.
“Come eat dinner with us.” Daniel’s sudden request startled me into a seated position. He stood in the doorway.
I hesitated.
Daniel lifted his brows.
“You win,” I said, smiling a little.
7. Schedule Change
After checking to make sure the weather would be nice all day, I walked to school again. The bike trail wove past open fields, then woodland. The natural energy of the outdoors seeped into me, and positive source flowed.
Having enjoyed the walk too long, I arrived at school after the first bell, but I was not going to study hall without something to do. Mrs. Gable would have me stapling worksheets if I didn’t, so I headed to my locker.
Jack was closing his as I arrived.
“Thank heaven you’re still here.” I said.
Jack grinned. “I thought I’d missed you.” Without prompting, Jack opened my locker, which rarely opened for me, because even it held a grudge against me.
I grabbed my math book.
“Last night, is it bugging you at all?” he asked.
“No, I’m actually feeling pretty good this morning.”
“Glad to hear.” Jack’s gaze lingered for a second, as an unspoken thought became evident in his eyes. He handed me his math notebook. “Check my work for me?”
“Ahh. You got it done early today. Well done, pupil.”
Jack laughed. “See you at lunch.”
An hour later, I arrived in math having gone over Jack’s work during study hall. Doing so actually helped me figure out several places where my own work had been wrong. We both had Mrs. Wabash but separate hours of the day; he wouldn’t have her until after lunch.
I sat down in my front seat near the wall and Mrs. Wabash’s desk. The young mom had pictures of her toddlers and school-aged children scattered over her desk. Sitting at her computer, Mrs. Wabash looked at me with a smile. “Good morning, Tara.”
I showed her Jack’s notebook. “Jack actually did better than me.”
“You’re telling me I can call on him this afternoon?” Mrs. Wabash glanced toward the clock hanging over the door. Students still trickled in from the five-minute-passing period between classes.
“As long as you don’t tell him I was the one who told you.”
Mrs. Wabash chuckled lightly. “Tara, do you mind pulling down one of the algebra texts from the closet. I have a new student switching into our class today.”
“New stud…”
A tall, lanky figure entered my line of vision as he came up alongside Mrs. Wabash’s desk.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“Asher, welcome.” Mrs. Wabash’s face lit up with a smile.
I didn’t look straight at him. This couldn’t be happening.
“Are the seats assigned or—”
“Yes,” Mrs. Wabash said. “The desk behind Tara is open. Why don’t you sit there?”
As he passed by me, a static energy trickled up my arm, making the hairs rise. It had to be obvious I was trying not to look at him as he sat.
He wore the same cologne he had the day before, subtle but alluring. His presence was going to drive me crazy.
Asher grunted as he squeezed his legs under
the table.
Responding to Mrs. Wabash’s request, I jumped up and went to the back of the classroom to find Asher his textbook and set it down for him, still avoiding eye contact.
“Thank you,” he said.
I caught a snatch of his smile. Him sitting by me in two classes might be too much.
Mrs. Wabash left the classroom with a minute to spare, and the volume of conversation from my classmates grew more obnoxious.
Asher chose that moment to tap my shoulder. “Do you think she’d mind if we switched seats so I could stretch out my legs?”
I looked at his chin; his eyes were too dangerous. “I’m sure she would have no problem with that.” I started to turn forward but came back around. His sudden schedule changes into two of my classes were too random. I had to know why. “So, um. Are you brand-new to the school or have you been here since the year started?”
“Yes and yes?” Asher drummed his fingers on the table. This adorable smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
Warmth fluttered like butterflies inside me. Heart, you’d better stop.
“I missed the first two weeks, because my parents wanted me to home-school. When I refused to do any of the work, they finally enrolled me.”
“Oh.”
“I thought I was ready for precalculus, but I wasn’t. Hence, the schedule change.”
“Precalculus?” I nodded. “That’s why you’re in Montrose’s class now?”
“Yep.” He drummed his fingers again.
“Oh, Asher, honey,” Mrs Wabash entered the room a second before the bell began to chime. “Why don’t you and Tara switch spots. Let your legs stretch out.”
While shifting places, we bumped into each other. The contact sent tingles through me.
I took a deep breath, enjoying Asher’s cologne too much.
Mrs. Wabash asked the class to pull out our notebooks to review yesterday’s work.
Twenty minutes later, when Mrs. Wabash asked me to be Asher’s partner during work time, my heart about flipped. Up until today, the numbers had been odd, and I’d been allowed to work by myself.
I sank in my desk, not ready to bridge the gap into group work. Especially not with the boy who made me tongue-tied.
Asher frowned. He tilted his head to try to get into my line of vision. “Are you all right?”
Both positive and negative source swirled inside my stomach like a double-flavored ice cream cone. “I’m not feeling well,” I said, before shooting out of the classroom.
After blowing him off in math, Asher didn’t even bother looking at me in Lit.
A wave of disappointment crashed over me. I’d lost my chance. Stupid girl. Or maybe this was a good thing?
A glum mood hung over me the entire time I completed my Gatsby exam, and I found myself elaborating way too much on my answers. Writing, along with doodling had been my therapy over the last several months.
Lydia rose and returned her test halfway through the class. She was as short-winded as I was long.
Seconds after she returned to sit behind me, a subtle click came from her direction. It was followed up by a fresh, cherry blossom scent. I inhaled, and it brought back happy memories of Mom putting her lotion on my hands as a child. My eyes moistened, and I was plagued with an irrational hope buying Mom lotion would remind her she loved me.
Next to me, Asher pushed his papers aside, his breathing sharpened, and he started muttering something.
I glanced at him, as he stuck a piece of gum in his mouth. A fresh burst of mint mixed with the blossoms.
Glancing at Asher’s desk, I saw he had the test packet out on one side of the table and some lined paper to the left. On the latter, he’d composed an outline from which to write his essay. There was little written on his actual test.
Asher sat straight, hands on his desk, with a hard expression on his face, all the while chewing his gum. He was now taking controlled breaths, whispering something. I was almost certain he was counting backward from a hundred.
An uncanny feeling settled in my stomach, and I struggled to focus on my test.
When the bell rang, I wasn’t quite finished with the test, but I knew Montrose wouldn’t care if I hung on into the passing period.
Oddly, Asher was the only other student who didn’t get up and leave right away.
“Tara, will you have that done before your next period starts?”
I jerked my attention toward Montrose. “Yeah, I’m almost done.”
He nodded, then came over to Asher’s desk. “Everything all right?” he asked quietly.
As I returned to my essay, Montrose picked up the papers from Asher’s desk and stapled them together.
“Can I have a pass to the counselor?” Asher asked.
“Of course.” Montrose returned to his desk, adding Asher’s test to the stack already there. He came back with two pieces of paper. One, the yellow pass, and the other a green half sheet. “This is the workout schedule for JV basketball,” Montrose said. “Your father mentioned you might enjoy practicing with the team. Try-outs are during the first week of November.”
“I appreciate that,” Asher said. “But I don’t think I’m ready to play again. Not sure I ever will be.”
“Keep the schedule, just in case. Do you want someone to walk with you?” Montrose’s gaze flitted to me.
“I’m fine.” With papers in hand, he got up and left.
Montrose sat behind his desk and pulled Asher’s test toward him. After flipping through the pages, he sat back in his chair, folding his arms. His gaze landed on me, and his eyes narrowed.
The look made me uneasy. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“I’m realizing I have a lot of work to do this weekend. Now, do me a favor and turn in that exam without writing any more.” He smiled a little. “I have enough to read already.”
I couldn’t think to finish anyway, so I rose, handed it to him, and headed to science.
Enroute, Asher filled my thoughts. With how tall Asher was, it didn’t come as a surprise to me he played basketball, but why wouldn’t he be ready to try out?
And what was with his behavior during the test? Something had obviously bothered him. Maybe on my way to class, I’d check to make sure he made it to the counselor’s office all right. My usual path went right past it anyway.
That thought made me all tense inside. Doing that would mean stepping outside of the box of isolation I’d created for myself this year.
No, he was fine. He could figure out his own problems. I had too many of my own.
8. Cute and Cuddly
Large, square windows gave easy viewing into the chamber of school discipline, and also Asher, sitting on the row of chairs opposite the front staff. Looks like he didn’t even make it to the counselor’s office.
Asher sat stooped over with his face in his hands. One of the school counselors, Mr. O’Bryant, knelt on the ground in front of him, talking, and Asher was nodding.
It was a heart-breaking image.
Mr. O’Bryant was the counselor I’d gotten passed to last spring when they thought I needed mental health help. He tried to meet with me again at the start of the year, but I refused.
What happened in Lit for Asher to need to talk to Mr. O’Bryant? Maybe he had anxiety about tests?
Leaving behind the office, I passed the bathroom where my first unfortunate encounter with Asher occurred. My gut twisted. I should go back and check on him. After all, when I was throwing up, he’d stuck around to make sure I was all right. Was enough of a gentleman to walk me back to class.
I gnawed on my lip, trying to ignore my conscience, and turned the corner. My sights settled on the bright rectangle of light at the end of the darkened hallway, the entrance to my class.
Frizzy Izzie was about to enter. She sent a scowl in Delilah and Sam’s directions as they passed her going to a separate science classroom. My old friends laughed at whatever lame joke they’d made at Izzie’s expense.
Bullies. I’d been one,
too.
Hadn’t I just thought of her as Frizzy Izzie? Maybe I still was a bully at heart.
Partway down the hall, I came to a stop. The nagging feeling to check on Asher was still there. He’d wanted me to give him a chance. That look of loneliness in his eyes was there for a reason. Maybe he wasn’t that different than me—or maybe he was completely different, and I shouldn’t even try, because I’d hurt him.
I was about to reach my classroom, but dark source squeezed my gut. Asher really looked like he needed someone.
Forcing myself to turn around was like dragging my fingers through sun-baked dirt.
Several steps later, I was ready to turn back. This was stupid. I liked my cold isolation. Let him have his.
But I didn’t—not really. I knew better than anyone how lonely darkness was.
I dragged myself forward. “This is lame,” I muttered to myself. Folding my arms, I picked up my pace, even though my strides were short. “And I’m going to be late.”
I came around the corner into the main thoroughfare of the cafeteria, auditorium, and office. The light blazed a lot brighter here.
It’s so much easier being alone. I don’t have to care about anyone. I swiveled on my heel, intent on going back to class but only made it a couple steps before turning right back around.
But what if I give him a chance and it becomes something amazing?
“More likely, he’ll toss me aside like a gum wrapper. Or worse, I hurt him.”
Reaching the last stretch of hall before the office windows, I came to a stop. This was the point of no return.
Curse the fact he was still in the office, and this time alone. Even the front staff weren’t seated in their reliable positions.
Come on, Tara. It does not need to be this hard to check on somebody. After all, it was the decent thing to do. But since when did I go out of my way to be nice to anyone?
I don’t even know what’s wrong—what could I possibly do to help? I was bound to make a fool out of myself.
The bell rang, so I was tardy.
Wasn’t I a fool in everyone’s eyes anyway? Why not try to make him smile? It wouldn’t hurt a fly to try.
I pushed open the door and leaned inside, looking down at him, and said the first stupid thing that came to my mind: “I know where the boy's bathroom is, if you need help finding it.”
The Changeling's Source (Evedon Legacy Book 1) Page 8
