Chapter Eleven

 

When my cell phone rang on the day after Christmas, I hoped it was Nick. I pulled it off my desk and nearly dropped it again.

Bradley, the ID said.

Bradley. He hadn't called me since the party. But there'd been Christmas, which he probably spent with his family.

Still, if he was into me, shouldn't he have called after we kissed? If I was into him, shouldn't I have cared?

I answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Kira," Bradley said. "How was Christmas?"

"Fine," I said.

Oh, no. I was using the F word on him. Not a good sign.

And then I said, "I mean—" right as he started talking again, so he stopped mid-word.

"Go ahead," he said.

"No," I said. "You go."

And then we sat there in awkward silence.

And this is what I thought: I cannot believe that I wasted my first kiss on Bradley Johansen.

But then he said, "I was wondering if you wanted to get in some practice today."

And my stomach dropped, thinking he meant practice kissing, because obviously I must need that from how bad I'd been at it. But no. He meant softball practice. Or baseball, in his case.

I didn't want to make things totally weird between us. I was going to have to see him at school. So I said, "Sure."

And that's how I came to be pacing back and forth in my room in my warm-ups and sneakers when Mom yelled up the stairs: "Kira! Bradley's here!"

He was only fourteen minutes late this time, but I'd probably walked a mile across my bedroom floor. At least I got my warm-up in before practice. Aaron would be so proud.

When I got downstairs, Bradley was saying something to my mom about football.

I rolled my eyes. Everyone loves football, but I just can't bring myself to understand or care. Maybe because it's not a girl's sport, and even if it was, I have no desire to be pounced upon by members of the opposing team. We have rules against that in softball, because we're civilized.

"So where are you two going?" Mom asked.

"The park," I said. "He's going to help me with my pitching practice." Mom couldn't argue with that. It was practically homework, and homework was definitely not dating.

"Are you driving?" Mom asked.

"Slowly," Bradley said. "And with seat belts."

I had to smile at that. I grabbed my softball glove from the end table and swept past Mom and out the door. "See you later," I said. I'd probably hear about that later, but she didn't stop me from leaving.

"You look great," Bradley said, leading me to the car.

In my warm ups? "Thanks," I said.

On the way to the park, I went the rounds in my head. He hadn't made a move, which maybe meant he didn't want to kiss me, which was good, because I didn't want to kiss him, but maybe meant that he didn't want to kiss me because I was so bad at it, which was not okay at all.

We reached the park without any of those words tumbling out of my mouth, but I did pick at the stitching on my glove, and had to sit on my hands in order to stop.

After Bradley turned off the engine, he grabbed my glove off my lap and tossed it into his backseat.

Um. "Didn't you want to practice?" I said.

He shook his head. "Nah."

And then he climbed out of the car. I scrambled to follow, rehearsing what I needed to say to him in my head. Bradley, you're nice, but I just realized I never liked you. Bradley, you're cute, but kissing you was gross. Bradley, I thought I was into you, but then I remembered that was Haylee, not me.

Oh, this was so screwed up.

Bradley led me along the narrow path that wound through the arboretum. Trees grew all around, reaching up toward the sky and exploding in an umbrella of leaves. The trees shielded most of the noise from the park, so all I could hear was wind rustling through leaves.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

Bradley smiled at me.

Ah, I thought. What else? And I tried to remember if he'd actually said the word softball when he'd asked me if I wanted to practice in the park.

Bradley moved closer. Something happens when you realize you're about to be kissed; your brain drains out your ears and you lose all sense of reason. I tried to speak, but my mouth just fumbled around, searching for any words, even the horrible ones I'd rehearsed.

As it turned out, Bradley didn't care if I talked. He stepped even closer to me, putting his hands on my waist and fixing his eyes on my forehead. I felt short of breath for a moment, like I was stepping up to the pitcher's mound in the first inning of an important game, and then he dipped his lips onto mine. And I tried to compose the words in my head, the ones that would make him understand: Bradley, I don't want this.

But before I could say them, he stuck his tongue into my mouth and twisted it around.

I had a sudden urge to bite it, but instead I pulled back. Bradley's face followed after me, moving down to my neck, kissing along my jaw line. And my neck reflexively leaned back, which he took as an invitation to travel down to my collar bone.

I gasped, and Bradley's hand snaked down and cupped my butt.

"Whoa!" I said, and I jumped back.

He laughed, smiling at me. "Sorry!" he said. "Didn't mean to scare you."

My heart overclocked. Don't be stupid, Kira, I thought. He doesn't have a clue what you're thinking.

So I put up my hands in surrender and said, "I'm kind of wound up. Can we talk for a while?"

He looked around behind us. "What? There's nobody here to see us."

"Still," I said. "I'm not comfortable . . ."

"Ah," Bradley said. "Let's go farther in."

And he took my hand and pulled me over a little low wall on the side of the path.

I didn't want to go anywhere with him, but I also didn't want him telling everyone at school that I was a total spaz who made a scene over nothing. So I sat down with one leg on each side of the wall, like I thought that was his intention all along.

Bradley gave me an annoyed look, but he sat down next to me. My hands pressed against the cold, grainy concrete, and the wind carried the cough-syrup smell of the eucalyptus trees. He'd been so upfront with me before, about Haylee, about everything. Why not just ask if I wanted to get together and make out? If given a direct opportunity, I would have told him no.

But I'd let him kiss me at the party. I'd acted like I enjoyed it. And I hadn't said anything here to make him think that I felt differently.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I said. And I meant for that to just be the beginning, but Bradley was already in motion.

"Nothing," Bradley said. "You're perfect." He flipped one of his legs over the wall to match mine, scooting forward so our knees touched. For a second I thought he actually wanted to talk, but then he reached out and slid his hands under my thighs, lifting up my legs. He scooted forward on the wall and slid his legs under mine so I ended up sitting on his lap with a leg on either side of him.

That was too much. I didn't care if he thought I was a loser or not—I just didn't want him mauling me anymore. I shoved him by the shoulders and scooted back off his lap. My butt hit the wall, hard.

"Hey," Bradley said. "I thought you liked me."

I shook my head. "You said you wanted to practice."

"If you wanted me to stop, you could have said so."

Hadn't I said so? I couldn't remember now. I squeezed the wall between my thighs, concrete cold against my pants.

Bradley got this sad look on his face and said, "Hey, it's okay," but then he grabbed me by the wrists to hold me in place.

I hadn't thought about self-defense since seventh grade, but as Bradley clamped onto my wrists, I remembered what to do. Twist toward the fingers, my gym teacher had said. That's the best way to break someone's grip, even if they're stronger than you.

I twisted both arms inward and broke free of Bradley's hands, then threw my weight toward the sidewalk. Since my legs were still on either side of the wall, I fell down palms-first, tearing my pants along the thigh. Dirt and gravel embedded themselves in my hands and my arms ached from the impact, but I got my legs under me again.

"What the hell, Kira?" Bradley climbed off the wall and stood there on the path, looking down at me. I expected him to apologize, and to ask if I was okay, but instead he lifted me by the shoulders, dragging me to my feet.

I shook him off and did the other thing I'd learned in self-defense: I walked away.

Bradley walked after me, right on my heels. "Kira," he said. "Talk to me."

I spun around to face him. "Right. Now you want to talk."

He waved his hands in the air. "What's wrong with you? You're the one who won't tell me what's going on. I thought we were just having fun. I'm sorry if I did something you didn't want."

He said he was sorry, but his posture was defensive.

I took deep breaths. Maybe I was overreacting. I'd been so off-kilter that I didn't know if I was justified in being freaked out or not. If I could play it cool now, I might not have ruined things completely.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm just messed up lately."

Bradley put his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it. "I get that," he said. "I'm messed up about it, too."

Only this time, that didn't sound sincere.

"I want to go home," I said, stepping back.

His face hardened. "You were fine before. What's wrong with you now?"

"I don't want to be here," I said. "Maybe I never wanted to be here."

Bradley's face tightened in anger. I recognized the look. Haylee had worn it sometimes, when rage welled up, and all she wanted to do was hurt someone.

"Come on," he said. "You think you're better than Haylee?"

I took another step away from him, and a smile flicked across his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on," Bradley said. "She was a total slut. The whole school knew it."

I balled my fists. Haylee was a lot of things, but she wasn't that. "Haylee could barely even talk to guys."

"Sure, when she was sober. Ever see her at a party?" He feigned surprise. "No, that's right. You were never there. What kind of friend were you?"

My vision swam. "That's not true," I said, but I sounded less sure, even to me. Haylee drank when I wasn't there, sure. But that didn't mean she was throwing herself at every guy who came along.

But she only went to parties when I was doing softball, or away at cross-country meets. I thought she did it because she was bored.

Had she kept me out of that part of her life on purpose?

Please. Of all people, I wasn't going to believe the word of Bradley Johansen. He'd pretended he'd been nice to her, to convince me he wasn't responsible for what happened to her. But now I could see through him. Now I could see what he was. "What did you do to her?"

"Are you kidding? She'd worshiped me for years. I didn't do anything she didn't want me to."

I lost control of myself then, because I stepped right up into his face. "Haylee is dead because of you." My voice was edging on hysterical now.

"Whoa," Bradley said, holding up both palms. "It's not my fault she was so screwed up."

"No," I said. "You just went after her because you knew that she was." I didn't know how true those words were until I tasted them. I saw the truth mirrored on Bradley's face as well. His mouth opened for a comeback, but he must not have had one.

Instead, he shoved me by the shoulders, and I stumbled back.

I looked around at the trees. No one could see us in here; that was the point. So unless someone happened along in the next few seconds, I was alone with a guy who could overpower me in a fight.

"Leave me alone," I said.

"Oh, I'll do more than that," Bradley said, balling his fists. "I'll make you wish you'd never met me."

That's when I turned and ran.