Authors: Stina Lindenblatt
Chapter Eight
Amber
A week after receiving my disastrous math grade, I sit cross-legged on my bed, math book and notes in front of me, and close my eyes. I can almost imagine Trent next to me, his familiar scent of lemons and sunshine lingering in his hoodie. He forgot it the night he rushed out of my house, angry at what I had said. Words I’ve wished a million times I could take back. Then he would still be with me. Things never would have changed.
Neither Emma nor his parents realized the hoodie was missing. That, or they never bothered to ask for it back. It’s all I have left of him, other than his old basketball T-shirt and the photos of us together.
Abandoning math for a moment, I remove a small scrapbook from my desk drawer. I sit back on the bed and leaf through the pages. They’re pictures of happier times, before any of this happened. When the worst thing I had to worry about was if Trent would be healthy in time for the homecoming dance, because he had the stomach flu.
I brush my fingers over the picture of us camping with our friends, the summer before I started volunteering at the animal shelter.
“I talked to a woman at the shelter today,” I said, the campfire crackling and popping in front of us, Trent’s arm around me, keeping me close. I’d known Trent forever, and we had been best friends for just as long. Even though we had officially been boyfriend and girlfriend for over a year, some days I still couldn’t believe it was real. Him and me.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“That she would love to have me help out.”
He hugged me tighter and kissed me. “I’m so proud of you.”
“How much is she paying you?” Emma asked.
“She isn’t. It’s a volunteer position. But the money isn’t important. It’ll look good on my college application.” I sounded like Mom, but she has a point. Plus it would look good for when I applied to veterinarian school. A means to the end, as Mom always said, even though she’d prefer I followed her path and study pre-law, like Michael.
“How many hours a week is it for?” Emma asked.
“Until basketball season starts, I’ll be working there an hour or two every day after school.” With my high grades, I could handle it. More than handle it. I’d be around animals. That’s all I’d ever wanted, but Mom didn’t like pets. They were messy and expensive, in her opinion. The closest thing I came to having a pet was Dragonfly, Trent and Emma’s cat.
Emma pouted. “Now I’ll never see you.”
I close the scrapbook and slip it back in my desk drawer. Regret claws at me like a rabid raccoon. If I hadn’t taken the position, Trent and Michael would be alive.
Lying down, I pull two old T-shirts from under my pillow and hug them, hard, the comforting scents of Trent and Michael long gone. I want to roll up in a tight ball and fall into a dreamless sleep, but that’s impossible. My sleep is never dreamless, never free of darkness. I burrow the T-shirts back under my pillow, hiding them from Brittany, hiding them from Jordan, hiding them with a piece of me wrapped securely inside—and return to my math.
An F. I’ve never received an F in my entire life. Not even a C or a D. A tired voice reminds me what I could lose if I don’t smarten up. I need to pass the course as part of my pre-vet requirements. If I don’t, I’ll have to repeat it. Sitting through it the first time is bad enough. Sitting through it a second time will be hell.
A sharp knock on the door intrudes on my thoughts.
“Coming.” I scoot off the bed. Most people in the dorm don’t bother locking their doors when they’re in their rooms. I’m not most people. I unlock the door and open it.
Becca, the R.A., gives me a sad smile. “Hi, Amber. I need to talk to you for a moment. Is this a good time?”
Not really
. “Sure, what’s up?” I open the door wider and let her in.
“It’s been brought to my attention you’re having nightmares and waking your roommate. She put in a request for a room change, but unfortunately nothing’s available. Is there something you’d like to talk about? Maybe it would help.”
I cross my arms, then uncross them and let them drop to my sides. “No, I’m fine.”
“Well, my door is open any time you need to talk.”
“Thanks.”
Only weak people admit they need help
,
Amber.
Jordan walks into my room and freezes when she spots Becca. The grin on her face falls away. “Hi.”
As if the conversation between us never happened, Becca exchanges a few words with Jordan about one of their courses, then leaves. I shut the door behind her.
“So what did Becca need to talk to you about?” Jordan asks. “I bumped into her earlier, and she asked if I knew when you’d be around. She looked pretty stressed about it.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Brittany asked to be switched out of this room because of my nightmares, and Becca wanted to see if she could psychoanalyze me instead.”
Jordan grimaces. “Did she?”
“Nope. There’s nothing to analyze.” Before she can voice a few suggestions, I add, “So what’s up?”
The grin returns, her usual enthusiastic energy pouring off her in waves. I let some of it in and feel better. Almost normal, but not quite.
“I just talked to some guys in the common area and they told me about a major party tonight off campus. We have to go.”
I shake my head, the almost-normal feeling ripped away. “I’m sorry, J. I don’t do parties.” Anymore. Or anything else where I’ll be noticed.
She looks at me with her puppy eyes. “Pleeeease. I just want to experience a real party once in my life.”
“You aren’t missing anything. Just a bunch of drunk people going crazy and puking.”
“We wouldn’t have to stay long. I promise. I just want to see how the other half live.”
I squish my lips to keep from laughing. I guess she means parties that don’t involve polite conversation, waiters, and appetizers passed around on silver serving plates.
I want to say no, but it’s a word I’ve never been good at, until recently. And I owe Jordan a lot. She’s the only person who hasn’t been put off by my need to maintain a wall. Not that you can maintain a wall with Jordan for long. And since she knows nothing about my past, I almost feel normal when I’m with her. What more could I want?
“Hey, what’s this?” Jordan reaches for the card on my desk and reads it before I can stop her. On the front is a picture of a lotus flower. It’s one of Grandma’s favorite plants. She often bemoans that it doesn’t thrive in Illinois; otherwise, she would grow them in her pond.
I cringe as Jordan reads it, hoping she doesn’t ask what Grandma meant by ‘You’re stronger than you realize.’ I knew it was a mistake leaving it on my desk, but I do love the picture.
“It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me?” Jordan scans the room for other cards.
There aren’t any, other than the one that my mom forwarded to me from Emma, which I’ve hidden in my desk. It’s too painful to look at, but I don’t want to get rid of it, either.
“I kinda forgot about it. You know, what with studying for exams and writing term papers.” I pause, searching for a way to distract her from this conversation. “Okay,” I say before I can yank the word away. “I’ll go with you to the party, but I need to study math first.”
She returns the card to my desk, beaming brighter than the summer sun. “I promise you’ll have fun. It’ll be like a birthday party.”
“Give me till nine and then we’ll go, okay?”
“Sounds good. Can’t wait to see what you’re wearing.” A not so subtle hint she wants me to wear something other than my usual jeans, T-shirts, and hoodie.
I bounce my fingers against my thigh. I used to wear dresses and skirts to parties. The kind that showed skin, just not too much. But that was before, when I had Trent at my side and no one dared bother me. Heck, that was when I wasn’t afraid to tell a guy where to go if he touched me.
I can’t wear those outfits anymore.
I want to tell her I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to go, but she’s already left my room, excited for what she perceives to be her next great adventure.
I wish I felt the same way.
I’m halfway through the third math question when the door opens. Brittany. I swear ice forms on the windows the moment she steps into the room.
“Hi,” I say.
Are you staying long?
Without a word—not that she has to, the glare says it all—she sits at her desk and pulls out a sketch pad from her backpack. She then removes a small metal box filled with pencils. She draws? All I know about Brittany is she’s either studying pre-med or criminology. Or both.
“Can I help you?” Her tone suggests she’ll be anything but helpful.
“No.” I pick up my math book and notes, and slip them into my backpack.
I arrive at the library to find it quiet, with only a few other students studying in the cubicles against the walls. I sit at a table where it’s easy to spot anyone watching me. It’s harder to study here than in my room, because I have to be alert to everything around me. But this is better than nothing, and better than being in the same room as Brittany.
I open my math book and study the example, again. I can do this.
Take a deep breath
,
Amber
,
and let the numbers talk to you
, Trent’s voice says in my head. I work through the problem once more, but it feels as though all my energy has drained into my chair. All that’s left of me is the lifeless shell of a rag doll.
My eyelids drift closed, my fight to keep them open lost in the pointless battle.
* * *
“
Wake up
,
Amber.
”
Someone tenderly touches my cheek.
“
Time to wake up.
I
have a surprise
,
and I know you love surprises.
”
He’s wrong.
I
hate surprises.
Everyone knows that
,
but it doesn’t stop Trent from surprising me.
He says it’s more romantic that way.
Inwardly I smile.
When did my best friend become such a romantic?
I
feel funny.
Groggy.
Drunk.
I
don’t remember getting drunk.
I
remember driving and getting a flat tire.
I
remember Paul showed up and offered to help.
I
don’t remember much else.
I
open my eyes.
I’m in a fun house
,
mirrors everywhere I look.
I
stagger up and sway on my feet as I turn around
,
searching for an exit.
Fun house?
There are no fun houses in Crossfields.
“
Am-ber.
Wake up.
”
The voice booms through the room.
I
cover my ears against the deafening noise
,
my heart slamming against my ribs
,
a
frightened bird trapped in a cage
,
desperate to escape.
“
Am-ber
,”
the voice taunts.
“
You’re mine forever.
And I’ll love you in a way your boyfriend never could.
”
“
Go away
,”
I
scream.
“
Leave me alone.
”
This is met with a laugh that sets the mirrors shaking.
Thick cracks split across them
,
like a network of branches.
One by one
,
the mirror fragments fall free of the walls.
I
drop to the ground and cover my head with my arms.
Glass cuts into my back and I scream
,
the sound masked by the shattering of glass against the cold concrete ground.
* * *
“Hey, wake up,” a male voice says, and someone nudges my shoulder.
I jerk awake and sit up abruptly, heart still slamming against my ribs. Only instead of a fun house, I’m in the library.
The black-haired guy I first saw at Your Designs, now with a faded bruise on his jaw, crouches next to me. And does nothing to slow my speeding heart.
“That must have been some dream.” He watches me with a mix of concern and curiosity, head tilted to the side. “You were screaming.” He checks out the book in front of me. “Math not your thing, huh? Well, that would explain the nightmare.” A cocky smile spreads on his face, setting off alarms in my head.
“Look,” I say, still shaken at seeing him here, “if you don’t stop stalking me, I’ll report you to the cops.”
“Whoa”—he unfolds himself and steps away from the table in a fluid motion—“what the fuck are you talking about? I’m not stalking you.” The smile is back on his face. “I don’t need to stalk women. They tend to stalk me.”
“Well, unless you can help me get an A in my class, get lost.” This guy doesn’t look like he gets As in any of his classes, let alone in math.
His smile widens. “I can tutor you, Kitten.”
I narrow my eyes. What kind of idiot does he think I am? “And how much would that cost me?” I ask, not seriously considering his offer.
His gaze roams over my body, his message quite clear.
“Go to hell!”
Chapter Nine
Amber
Two hours. That’s all I have to stay here and then I can leave.
Jordan’s face lights up as she takes in what could easily be a small mansion. The loud music. The dancers in the middle of the room, pressed together, some practically having sex on the dance floor. The smell of booze, sweat, perfume. Everything, without a doubt, forbidden by her parents. She’s like a little kid on Christmas morning.
“So, what do you want to do now?” I ask.
Escape?
Go home?
I scan the area, searching for anyone I recognize. If I’m lucky, I won’t see anyone I know from high school. They know I was responsible for the death of their golden boy. I can’t bear seeing the blame in their eyes, too.
I spot one guy from high school, one I didn’t know very well. He was in my AP physics course. I check out the other partiers. There are a few people from my college classes, but no one I’ve talked to. Not that I’ve talked to many people.
“I want a drink.” Jordan says it with such awe and determination, I’m positive she’s never drunk alcohol before tonight, other than maybe a few sips of wine.
She asks someone holding a beer where he got it from. He tells her the kitchen and indicates which way we need to go. We make our way through the throng of sloshed students. The heat of their bodies and the room close in on me.
Jordan’s dressed for this in a miniskirt, tank top and thigh-high boots. It’s a version of her I’ve never seen, and I’m sure it’s one her parents have never seen. But it makes me proud, since I get the feeling taking charge of her own life is a new experience for her.
A jealous sensation snakes its way in. Not because of how the guys are drooling over her. And they are. But because a year ago I would have dressed the same way for parties. I wouldn’t be wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt—and melting.
We locate the keg and grab plastic cups from the guy manning it. I’ve never been a huge fan of beer, but I’m hot and the drink is cold and that’s all that matters. I gulp some down.
Jordan takes a tentative sip and screws up her face.
“You’ve never had beer before, have you?” I ask, laughing.
She shakes her head. “My parents don’t drink beer.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
She nods but I’m not sure if she believes me.
We move toward the living room where the dancing is. My palms grow sweaty and my heartbeat kicks up a few notches. Neither have anything to do with the heat.
It’s all right.
It’s just a party.
He didn’t like parties.
You’re safe.
I used to go to parties all the time. That was normal. I want to be normal again. How hard can this be?
I take another gulp of my beer. And freeze.
Emma’s standing near the makeshift dance floor, wearing a strapless dress that shows off her athletic body and tan. She’s not looking in my direction. She’s talking to some girls and smiling at whatever they are saying.
“How ’bout we go over there.” I point to the opposite side of the massive room, where Emma won’t be able to see me. I don’t explain why I want to move, and Jordan doesn’t ask.
We weave between several small groups, until we reach the other side of the room. Jordan looks longingly at the dance floor.
Do you want to dance?
Those words used to slip painlessly from my mouth. Now they’re glued at the back of my throat.
“You wanna dance?” The words didn’t come from me. They’re from a tall, good-looking guy who’s grinning at Jordan.
Grinning back, she nods then looks at me. As much as I don’t want to be abandoned here, I’m not about to prevent her from having fun. And it’s not like she’ll disappear with the guy. She has a serious boyfriend. She just wants to dance. Though from the way this guy’s checking her out, he might have other things in mind.
They walk to the edge of the dance floor, where I can keep an eye on her. For a girl who’s never been to a party, she sure knows how to dance, and lover boy’s appreciating it. His hands slide all over her. She doesn’t push him away. Instead, her moves intensify. She could easily be a dancer from a music video. Looks like I’m not the only one with secrets.
“Hey, babe,” a blond-haired guy says, breath reeking of stale beer. “You’re in my biology class. I thought maybe you and I could study bio together.” He runs his hand down my arm. My body tenses.
I yank my arm away and glance over at Jordan. She’s too busy having fun to notice I’m not. “Not interested.”
“Why not? You don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Sure I do. H-he’s with his friends at...at his brother’s football game.”
“I know you’re lying, Amber.”
“
I
know you’re lying
,
Amber.
I’ve seen how you look at me when you’re not with your boyfriend.
It’s me you’ve always wanted.
”
I suck in a sharp breath and turn back to him. “What makes you think I’m lying?”
A blush creeps onto his face. “O-one of my friends lives in your dorm. He said you’re single. And...just give me a chance.”
I check the dance floor again. Jordan is still dancing and it doesn’t look like she’s stopping anytime soon. I step away, ready to make a hasty escape.
The guy grabs my arm. “Hey, where you goin’?” His gaze drops to my chest.
“Bathroom.”
“I’ll come with ya.”
I pull away. “Don’t bother. I’m a big girl. I can go on my own.” I squeeze past some guys who could play collegiate football, then disappear into the crowd, avoiding the direction where I last spotted Emma.
With a quick glance behind me to ensure the creep’s not following, I enter the kitchen. It’s just as crowded as in the rest of the house. A large group of people are hanging around a table, playing a game of quarters. No one pays attention as I slip out the back door.
The party has spread into the backyard and around the swimming pool. The chill in the air hasn’t turned off a few partiers from wearing swim trunks and bikinis, with leis around their necks. A couple makes out in the shallow water. The way they’re going at it, I wouldn’t be surprised if they have sex in the pool.
No one seems to notice me as I rush past.
I find a quiet corner and sit on a short wall overlooking a large heart-shaped pond with a tall waterfall made of rocks in one corner. I picture Grandma’s beloved lotus flowers floating on the water, with goldfish darting in between.
I close my eyes and the sound of the partiers takes me back to when I used to hang out at the lake with my friends. Back when they were certain I would play collegiate basketball, become a vet, and marry Trent. Back when I was living day-to-day when it came to our relationship. Anything could happen. My father walked out on my family when I was young. Maybe Trent would walk out on me, too.
And he did. He walked out the night we had an argument. He died, crushing my heart the way the tree crushed his car.
“There you are, babe,” Annoying Guy yanks me back to the present. He stands in front of me, blocking my escape.
“When are you going to get the hint? I’m not interested!” I stand and fake a move to the right, but he doesn’t fall for it. That, or he’s so drunk, he thought he was going right and went left instead.
“But I like you.” He leans in and traps me, his lips close to mine.