Downcast (9 page)

This was so totally out of the realm of anything I had ever experienced, I just had no idea how to decide what I thought or felt about it all. There was no one I could talk to. Asking Mom for boy advice was inviting being locked up and homeschooled for the rest of my life. Morris had even less romantic insight than I had. And Helen? Maybe I could ask Helen, but I knew her answer would be calm, logical, sensible, and safe. Maybe I didn't want to be safe for once? Maybe I did?

"Gah!" I muttered and grabbed my clothes and headed for the shower.

***

Mom was in the kitchen, pacing aimlessly from one appliance to another without actually doing anything. Her face was scrunched up in a way that made her look frightened, but her eyes seemed to be really bright and blue—more than usual.

There was no oatmeal on the table. There was no sliced banana or blueberries. It looked like she had forgotten to make breakfast.

I couldn't have been happier with her memory loss and grabbed an apple for myself instead.

Still, unease lay like a frost over both of us. I sat at the table, eating my apple and watching her pace until it was time to leave for school. I got her purse and keys and brought them to her.

She started out of her daze and looked down at me, her expression turning almost panicked.

"Stephanie," she said hesitantly. "Have you...have you noticed anything unusual about anything in the past few days?"

I didn't even think twice before pulling out the “dumb innocent” act I had perfected over the years.

"No?" I hazarded with wide eyes and a vaguely anxious expression. "No. I don't think so. What do you mean unusual?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line and glared off into the distance.

"Never mind," she said. "Don't think any more about it."

"Okay."

The ride to school was silent, and the snow melted in the weak morning sun.

***

Mom drove off almost before I shut the car door, instead of waiting to watch me safely inside the building as she always did. I stood there, jaw practically hanging open.

Carefully, I picked my way across the pavement which was still icy despite the layer of salt on top.

Inside, I got to my locker and tried really, really hard not to look at the mangled metal of Zack's locker. I still didn't know what to think, but I had begun to wonder how bad it would be to ask Haley what had happened. My mental checklist see-sawed. Dangerous? Possibly. Necessary? Yes. Well. Probably. Maybe. Would an answer make a difference? Maybe. Yes. No. Should I avoid Haley? Probably. Yes. Do I want to avoid Haley? Kinda. Well. Not really. But if he's dangerous? Yes. No. Yes.

"Argh!" I groaned as I tried my combination for the third time. Clearly, I wasn't paying attention and doing it wrong, or the thing was stuck. Maybe the lock handle thingy was jammed. After one more fumbling attempt, I rested my forehead against the locker in despair.

"Here, let me help," Zack said, appearing suddenly beside me.

He nudged my shoulder with his, and I stepped aside, doubtful that he'd have any better luck.

Before I could even tell him my combo, he grinned at me, then brushed the dial of the lock with his fingers and barely tried the handle. The combo clicked, and the locker slid open effortlessly for him.

Okay, now that was freaky. I stared at my locker, then at his happy smirk.

"What was that?" I demanded. "How did you do that?"

Zack laughed and winked at me. "Magicians can't tell their secrets."

"You're not a magician," I countered, fighting a smile.

"No, you're right, I'm not. I still can't tell you how I did it."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll find out at some point, anyway. So, I'm going to enjoy the game a while longer."

"What? Um, I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"You will."

I narrowed my eyes at him, kinda pissed off by his flippant, ridiculously cryptic words. I glanced at the crumpled metal of his locker, crushed and torn by Haley's hands.

"You know your brother did that to your locker yesterday," I said, an odd sensation of calm settling over me even though I was frowning. I had never confronted anyone ever. Ever. Apparently, it was easier than I had thought.

His smile shut off like someone flipped a switch, and he looked almost guilty.

"Listen, Steph," he said, pausing oddly between words. "Don't be too hard on Haley. He can't help himself."

"Wait, what are you talking about? What do you mean, he can't help himself"

"Hormones."

"Hormones?" I repeated, slightly confused.

"Yeah...he is mmmph...this is all new for him. Hormones are a big problem."

I stared at Zack, my mouth twitching as I tried to decide whether to laugh out loud or not. Weird, unfamiliar waves of confidence made me want to burst out laughing at him. Prickles of anger zipped and snapped underneath my skin, thinking he was now just like all the others and making fun of me.

"It's not easy, Steph," Zach pleaded. "Give him a break. Please?"

I couldn't help giving a short huff of incredulous laughter. Did he really think I was that stupid?

"Do me a favor, Zack," Haley's icy voice cut through my laugh as he walked past his brother to stand next to me. "Don't do me any favors."

"Sorry, dude," Zack apologized. "I was just trying to—"

"No, don't. Really. Don't."

"You're such a downer," Zack pouted, suddenly looking like a kicked puppy.

"Ignore him," Haley murmured in my ear. "He thinks he's funny, but he really doesn’t have a clue."

"I am funny," Zack protested. "You're the one without a sense of humor."

"I have a sense of humor," Haley replied gravely, raising his eyebrows. "It is just...better than yours."

Zack laughed good-naturedly and walked off.

Haley slipped his arm around my waist and spun me around to face him. His lips twisted in a dark smile, and he closed the distance between us, but I stepped back at the same time, right into my open locker and humiliating myself by falling right into it. Well, I would have fallen right into it if Haley hadn't grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him.

 The sensation of being held tightly against Haley was like a drug, and though I never had taken any drugs, I felt high, pulled into an orbit that used my heart, instead of gravity, to keep me from flying away.

His eyes swallowed up all my senses, and I struggled against the perverse thrill at how his hands, which could apparently crush metal, were incredibly gentle.

Still holding me with one arm around my waist, he reached his other hand up to cradle my cheek. His long, cold fingers stroked my skin, and my breaths fell into time with his.

I have a vague memory of telling him he should probably let go of me.

His grip tightened convulsively around me, looking down at me with a wild look of pain painted on his pale face. His nostrils flared, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. He looked like he was struggling with some kind of decision, but finally made up his mind.

"Have lunch with me... Stephanie," he asked.

"Lunch?" I repeated with absolutely no hint of a squeak. None. "You want me to have lunch with you?"

"Yes," he replied, tension sharpening the lines of his face. "I will explain what I can."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

 He let out a faint sigh and released me.

"I will come get you at lunch."

He quickly disappeared into the surging crowd of students.

Flabbergasted isn't even a strong enough word to describe what I was feeling in that moment. All questions of lockers and metallurgy were shoved to the side for a moment, as my brain zeroed in on the most critical factor—the fact that a boy had wanted to see me at lunch.

Was he insane?

Was I insane for almost looking forward to it?

***

Yup, I was insane.

How could I even have thought for a moment that Haley would want to sit with me at lunch? Did I need a sledgehammer to get it through my head that he and Jordan were probably plotting a massively hilarious public humiliation for me?

European History and Poetry were repeats of the day before. I sat at my desk. Haley sat next to me. Jordan sat in front. Jordan paid attention to Haley. Haley paid attention to me. I tried to pretend I was invisible.

At lunch, I came into the cafeteria and lingered uncharacteristically by the silverware and napkin dispensers by the microwaves. This way, I'd be in Haley's line of sight when he came in.

I had nuked my gluten-free pasta at least three times when he sauntered in—with Jordan at his side.

Haley caught my eye and smiled a quick, sly grin as Jordan pulled him over to the tables with the Gaggle and the Jocks.

I cringed visibly and turned away, back to the microwave, listening at the same time to the ding of my food being done and the shattering sound of my heart being crushed like a soda can.

Yeah, I was totally familiar with the blunt force trauma of emotional bullying. From lots and lots of experience...I knew I'd eventually become numb and move on, just like I always did.

A tired voice inside my head reminded me that if Haley was dangerous in some way, this was really a good thing. I tried to pretend I had only wanted an explanation, but that was a lie. I had wanted hope. Just a little hope that I wasn't doomed to be alone forever, stuck in the house with my mom.

I heard Haley and Zack laughing behind me, and anger pushed hurt out of the way, yelling at me for being so stupid.

Idiot! Stupid! Idiot! Stupid!

I marched to the back of the room sat down in a huff at the table with Morris and Helen, glaring at Morris' sandwich.

"What's up?" Helen asked, concern in her voice and her eyes.

"I'm an idiot," I replied.

"Why?"

"Because I actually let myself think that—"

"Stephanie."

I froze at the sound of my name on Haley's lips. Helen's eyes went wide, then narrowed in her Merciless Data Collection mode.

I forced a haughty expression on my face before glancing up at him then away. My performance was nowhere near the mastery of Jordan, who could send minions scurrying with a flare of her nostrils, but it would have to do. Somehow, I had to make some kind of stand, if only to save myself from complete humiliation.

"I thought you were going to sit with Jordan," I sniffed, making no effort to put any friendliness in my voice.

Helen gave me her I-Have-a-Hypothesis-About-This look, and I replied with my own secret girl language look that I-Will-Explain-Everything-Later.

"She caught me as I walked into the cafeteria," Haley replied with a shake of his head and amused smile on his lips. "But, I promised to sit with you, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't promise, not technically."

"I never say anything unless I mean it."

"What do you want?"

"I'd like to talk to you. In private."

I eyed him suspiciously, then nodded over at some old, ratty, leather benches that had been stored in a dark corner at the back of the cafeteria.

His smile grew even deeper, and his black, endless eyes seemed to compel me to smile back at him.

I shook my head to clear it, determined to stay angry in order to protect myself. All I wanted was an answer about yesterday. That was it. Then I could forget about him, and he could go hang out by Jordan's locker.

He walked me over to the benches and sat down next to me, close enough that I could feel his lean, tight frame next to mine in a way that made both my heart and stomach flip and tremble. Stubbornly, though, I stayed where I was. Anger masked my hurt and tamped down on my attraction to him. Anger made me feel warm and powerful for a change.

Haley took my hand in his, and he started in surprise.

"Your hand!" he exclaimed. "It's burning hot."

"Then let it go if it bothers you." His hand felt like ice around mine.

"I didn't say it bothered me," he retorted, losing his smile.

"What do you want?" I hissed, yanking my hand back.

Haley studied me, his gaze growing dark.

"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," he said finally.

I clenched my jaw to keep from replying. He wanted to talk? Fine. He was going to have to do the talking, then. I held his gaze and grabbed onto my anger for dear life.

"The last thing I ever want to do is frighten you," he murmured.

"What did you do to the locker?"

Just like with Zack at the locker this morning, I suddenly felt bold. Confident. Unafraid. I had confronted someone with a difficult question, and the world hadn’t stopped spinning. I wasn’t being yelled at or belittled. I was actually being taken seriously.

At my question, Haley bit his lip, and his expression turned worried, almost frightened.

"I made a mistake," he said eventually, his voice low and a little shaky. "I didn't mean to do that."

Anger pushed its drug through my veins - just like the kids who did heroin at the far end of the parking lot.

"I didn't ask you what you meant to do," I bit back, enjoying leaving my emotional teeth marks on his surprised face. "I asked you what you did. Or if you wanna be nitpicky, I want to know how you disintegrated a metal locker with your bare hands."

There was no mistaking the look of absolute terror in Haley's eyes now. If I hadn't been so high on having the moral upper hand, I might have thought to ask why he was afraid. But, I didn't, and my thoughtlessness got its reward.

He looked down and replied, " All I can do is tell you that I'm sorry."

“Why did you want to talk to me if you can’t tell me anything?”

“Because I’m a fool.”

Then without giving me a second look, he got up and walked away.

I deflated like a balloon when I realized I wasn't angry any more, and I had only ended up with more questions and less hope than before.

THE REST
of the afternoon was tough. There was no way in hell I could concentrate in US History or Government. I was frozen between righteous anger and bitter disappointment. Hating myself, but unable to help myself, I kept analyzing Haley's smiles and frowns.