Part 7 (1/2)

I stopped the car at a red light and he slid me a look. ”So it's nice to finally come across someone who might understand a little bit of that.”

My mouth twitched. First I'd pegged him as a dumb jock, then a typical Woodbridge rich kid. ”Sorry. I seem to jump to all the wrong conclusions about you. Again and again.”

”It's okay.” He gave me a light jab in the side. ”But if you don't turn left here, you're going to miss my road.”

I'd been so busy being defensive I hadn't even asked him where he lived. I tightened my now-sweaty hands on the steering wheel. I thought about reciprocating. Telling him that my family wasn't so picture-perfect, either. But that would involve talking about my mother. And I couldn't do that.

Of course everyone back home knew about my mother's death. But here, no one did. First off, it didn't just come up in conversation in a natural way. ”Hey, my mom's dead. What are you up to tonight?” And second, I hated when it had come up in the past. People always saw me differently, after. They got this patented painfully concerned, pitying look on their faces. And I knew I wasn't Jade Kelley anymore. I was the girl whose mother had died. And I didn't want to be defined by that here like I'd been at home.

Kane gave directions along the way and I followed, lost in my thoughts, almost on autopilot. As I reached his apartment complex, I slowed. He pointed toward his door and my eyes were drawn to the defined muscles in his forearm. Then up to the blond stubble on his neck and chin. The masculine angles and edges to his face. I could see why the girls went crazy for him.

”Thanks for the ride,” he said.

”No problem. I'm sorry again about all the misunderstandings.”

”Forget it.” He opened the car door and stuck one leg out, then stopped. ”Has anyone shown you around town yet?”

”Not unless my dad counts.”

”Does your dad know where to get the best Boston cream pie? Or which pizza place is open the latest?”

”He does not possess this secret and useful knowledge,” I said, smiling.

”How about I show you around some night next weekend? I can use my mom's car.” He stopped, worry creasing his face. ”Oh wait, I don't mean like -”

”Not in a fresh meat way,” I said. ”Don't worry. I'd love to see the sights.”

”Great! Sat.u.r.day night, then. See you in school.”

He grabbed his equipment bag from the trunk and cast one last wave over his shoulder. I watched as he strode up to the door, this gorgeous, nice, charming guy, who defied all my a.s.sumptions.

And I wondered why, instead of feeling delight at the idea of spending time with him, my thoughts kept returning to a broken boy.

I took 28 to a party at the clearing tonight and, of course, it made waves. 7 was giving him dirty looks all night. 14 was relieved. (Not that it will help her case any.) I knew what everyone was thinking. Why him? She could have anyone and instead of someone approved - someone ”in” - she plucks this guy out of obscurity.

I'll tell ya, at first it was just the idea of being unpredictable. Plus those eyes. G.o.d! Those eyes could bring about world peace. But now ... it's more than that. I'm surprised. I might keep him longer than I'd planned. I ... like him. A lot.

28 isn't like the other guys, who seem mostly interested in sloppy groping in darkened corners of house parties. 28 is different. He can talk about books, art, current events. When he asks questions, it's like he's probing your mind. He's truly interested in the answer.

Sometimes it scares me, though. Sometimes I think he's trying to see into my soul.

And I'm scared he won't like what he finds.

I spent the next few days tiptoeing around the house and my family. Kayla wasn't gone. I still walked through cold spots, felt the tingling of unseen eyes on my back, came home to find my stuff moved around. But I didn't play. I ignored her, like you would a child misbehaving for negative attention or a dog that you didn't want to sense your fear. I gave her no emotion or energy to feed from.

I noticed Colby doing the same thing. He was less hyper and energetic and watched a lot more television than usual, curled up in the corner of the couch. Both of us seemed to be sapped of our personalities. We went through our daily motions mechanically, walked through the house like zombies. Hoping that ignoring the problem would make it go away. If we didn't think or talk about it, it wouldn't be real.

Marie was either too tired to notice or stuck in so much denial that she didn't want to look into why. Dad was home Monday and Tuesday, which was nice. But he still had to work, even while not traveling, and spent much of his time on conference calls in his office upstairs.

I stood outside his door Tuesday night for ten minutes, considering spilling my guts. But fear held me back. What if he didn't believe me? What if he sided with Marie again? I knew, deep inside, that if Dad chose Marie over me one more time, that would be it for us. Something inside me would break and possibly never heal.

I didn't want to lose Dad. I adored him. So rather than give him the opportunity to make that wrong choice and cause that break, I backed away from his office door and went back to my room. And kept silent.

School became my safety net. I loved the routine of my cla.s.ses and homework, craved the normality of it against the abnormality of what was going on at home. I'd been going in early, mostly to get out of the house as soon as possible. Maybe a little bit to see if anyone else was in the art room. But each morning it was empty. I sat there, studying, my heart racing anytime I heard footsteps approaching the room, and sinking when the footsteps continued on past.

Wednesday morning, I slid my ancient-mobile into a spot at the same time Faye was getting out of her little silver convertible. She closed the door, her eyes taking note of me, and then stood there, waiting. I thought about fis.h.i.+ng through my backpack for five minutes or pretending I had an important text to type out, but decided against it. I had to go to school with Faye all year. Yeah, her personality was borderline, but it couldn't hurt to be on the good side of it. And I hadn't talked to her since last week when she helped me with my makeup.

”How's it going?” I said, swinging my bag up over one shoulder.

”Ugh,” Faye click-clacked over on heeled boots. Her hair was pulled up tightly in a high ponytail and cleavage spilled out of her low-cut sleeveless sweater. She sighed. ”Murph's party was so lame last weekend. There was, like, nothing to do but watch the lacrosse team stalk the freshmen girls. Then the neighbors called the cops because we were too loud and it was broken up by ten.”

I didn't really know what to say so I just nodded sympathetically and mumbled, ”That stinks.”

”Way to start out the school year,” she sulked. ”Daisy Britton used to throw the best parties, but she's off to college now. If this is how senior year is going to be ...” She rolled her eyes at the horror of it.

”Where were you, anyway?” she asked, as if suddenly realizing I hadn't been there.

I didn't want to say no one had invited me, though Kane probably had when I was half listening to him in the hall. ”Was it Friday or Sat.u.r.day?” I asked, squeezing between two cars in the front row of the lot.

”Friday.”

Good. I could just tell the truth and not seem so lame. ”I had to babysit my little brother Friday night.”

”Suckage,” she groaned, hopping up onto the curb. ”Your parents go out or something?”

”No, my dad travels a lot and my stepmom works Friday nights.”

Faye shot her arm out across my midsection, stopping me from entering the school. Some guy, whose eyes were superglued to Faye's bobbing b.o.o.bs, held the door open for us for a few more seconds, then gave up and went in.

”Hold up,” Faye said. ”Does that happen every Friday night?”

”Only when my dad's gone.”

She stared at me. ”Is he going to be gone this Friday night?”

”I think so, yeah.”

”We can party at your house, then!” Her face lit up like a slot machine on a win. ”We can do it right. Only invite the seniors. None of those undercla.s.smen wannabes.”

I grimaced, thinking that was probably a bad idea. Not only was it not cool to throw a party while my parents were out, my house was also freaking haunted. I opened my mouth, readying an excuse, but at that moment Kane and his sister came up behind us. Ellie stayed a few steps away, but Kane put a hand on each of our shoulders. ”What's up, ladies?”

His eyes took in Faye's short skirt, high boots, and the slice of white thigh showing in between. I looked down at my jeans and felt completely frumpy. But, hey, this wasn't a compet.i.tion. Kane had made it clear he was just friends with Faye. And I wasn't interested in Kane.

Right?

”Hi, Ellie,” I said over his shoulder.

Kane's sister gave a little wave, then motioned to Kane that she was going inside.

Faye rubbed her hands together excitedly. ”Jade and I were just planning a party at her house this weekend.”