Part 12 (1/2)

”Creepy? What makes him so creepy? Is it because of his scars? Are you really that superficial?”

Corrine looks confused and annoyed. ”What scars?” She shakes her head and stares at me like I'm a crazy person.

”Oh, don't be patronizing. Is he too ugly for you or something? After all, we all know Kieron was Mr. Perfect, right? Mr. Flawless-Hotty-McNaughty. Well, he left. And he's not coming back. So what if Tristan has a less-than-perfect face? I don't care about that at all. Ever heard about a thing called 'inner beauty'? I know it's a foreign concept with most people-”

”Seriously, Liora. What're you talking about? What scars? Did Tristan get in some sort of accident or something?” She c.o.c.ks her head to the side and gives me a quizzical look.

I roll my eyes. ”Why are you acting like an idiot?” I stand to leave. This is a total waste of time. Why bother trying to show I care? Clearly, I'm not welcomed or appreciated here.

I take a few steps, but Corrine jumps up and grabs my arm. ”Please, Liora...don't go. Let's not fight. You're my only friend.” I hear the pleading in her voice, and when I turn around, there are tears in the corner of her bruised eye. My heart softens, and I take a deep breath.

”Sorry,” I mumble, shaking my head.

”Me too,” she says. We go back and sit on the steps outside the trailer porch. I notice she hasn't invited me in, but I don't mind. I certainly don't want to run into her mother and that awful guy again. Best to be out here where I can keep an eye on things.

”Um, at the risk of making you upset again...can you please explain to me what you mean about Tristan's scars? Maybe I misunderstood you. Have you seen him with his s.h.i.+rt off or something?” Her eyes are wary, and a blush hints at her plump cheeks.

I let out an annoyed sigh-I can't help it. I don't want to be irritated with her, but why is she acting like a complete idiot? ”No, I haven't seen him with his s.h.i.+rt off,” I say as if I'm talking to a five-year-old child. ”I am talking about the fact that half of his face is covered with wicked scars that go all the way down his neck. And maybe further, I don't know, because I haven't seen him with his s.h.i.+rt off.”

Corrine looks at me flabbergasted as I continue speaking unnaturally slow. ”And his sister Casandra has them too, only they're all over her arms and hands. We both stared at them their first day because it was so shocking...”

Corrine opens her mouth, then closes it again and puts her head down. She's quiet for several moments, then finally whispers, ”Liora, did you smoke some pot today?”

”What?!”

”Or take some pills, maybe? You don't seem drunk...” She leans forward as if to check my eyes a little closer.

I jerk back. ”What the h.e.l.l, Corrine? Why would you think that? If anything, you're the one who's acting like a dumba.s.s. Maybe you got a concussion and suffered some brain damage-”

”Stop!” she croaks out. ”This is ridiculous! Tristan doesn't have any scars on his face, and neither does his sister! She's in my gym cla.s.s. I would know. We stared at them that first day because they were new. And really good-looking, like they were rich or something. Of course we'd stare. But not because someone has some scars. Neither one does. Tristan's skin is so smooth, it looks practically airbrushed. So yeah, call me a dumba.s.s, 'cause I have NO f.u.c.kING CLUE WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!”

With that she jumps up, goes inside the rickety trailer and slams the door.

”You okay over there?” Tristan slides his hand up my thigh as we cruise down the highway. I turn my attention from the whizzing scenery and stare at him. Yup. Big, fat scar. Plain as day. Corrine must be more blind than I thought. But why is my stomach so knotted and heavy?

”I'm fine. Just worried about Corrine.”

”Ahh, she'll be fine in a few days. The flu is no picnic, but she'll survive.”

I nod, returning my attention to the pa.s.sing countryside. I feel a little guilty not telling him the truth about Corrine. I know something has to be done, and I have to help her. But for some reason I don't want Tristan involved.

”Pull over,” I say suddenly as we pa.s.s a decrepit-looking gas station.

”Here? In the middle of nowhere?”

”Yeah, go to that gas station back there. I...I have to pee. Please.”

”Sure thing.”

As he turns the Jag around, my mind races. He parks near the entrance, and through the store's dusty windows I see a woman. ”Would you do me a huge favor?” I ask.

”Sure. What's up?”

”Will you buy me a large Sprite? I forgot my wallet. You can get it for me while I'm using the bathroom.”

He shrugs. ”Sure. Anything else?”

”Nope. Just the drink.”

The middle aged woman hands me a key attached to a large wooden plank and points me toward the back. ”Try not to touch anything in there, honey,” she calls out after me.

The smell of the unis.e.x bathroom is nauseating, and I hold my breath as long as I can. Finally I breathe through my s.h.i.+rt, trying to m.u.f.fle the putrid odor. When I think enough time has pa.s.sed I push open the metal door, welcoming the fresh air.

I hand the key back to the cas.h.i.+er and see Tristan outside the window behind her, leaning against his car. ”Did you see where my friend went? The one with the scars on his face?” I ask innocently.

”I didn't see no boy with no scars, honey, but that boy you came in with just stepped outside not a moment ago.”

My heart thuds ominously in my chest, and I catch my breath. I inch closer to the counter and lock eyes with the woman. She seems normal. ”Do you wear gla.s.ses?” I ask her.

”Nope. Perfect vision. Why?”

”Did you actually get a good look at him or were you just concentrating on ringing him up?”

She seems fl.u.s.tered for a moment as she pats her poufy brunette bob. ”Well, I was doin' my job, but you can't blame a girl for looking, can you? He's quite an attractive young man. Probably the most handsome I've ever seen in these parts. He your boyfriend?”

”Are you telling me you got a really good look at his face and didn't see any scars? Nothing?”

She frowns and shakes her head. ”Nothing but the Good Lord's image.” She narrows her eyes and s.h.i.+fts them out the window to where Tristan is looking in. ”You two up to something here? You playing some sorta game with me?”

”No, ma'am. Have a nice day,” I say, and scoot out the door.

”I don't think I want to go back to school,” I tell Tristan once we're back on the road. ”I have a really bad headache. Can you just take me home?”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye. ”I don't believe you.”

My chest clenches, and I concentrate on sounding casual. ”What do you mean? Why would I lie about that?” Lucky...Lucky, are you in there? Can you hear me? I think I might be in trouble...

Tristan lets out an easy laugh. ”Oh, I know you better than you might think.” He flashes me a wicked smile. ”I know you're lying to me. And I know how freaked out you are right now.”

Lucky wake up!

”Your friend. Corrine. She wasn't sick. She was hurt. And you're worried about her. So worried, I think, you gave yourself a headache. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I'll drop you off at your place. Just lead the way.”

I could cry with relief. And once Tristan pulls away in his snazzy convertible, that's exactly what I do.