| |
“HEYA, DONOVAN! GOOD luck today, man. You’re killing it.”
Glancing up, I remove an ear bud and turn off my iPod blasting the Plain White T’s Hey There Delilah. Fist bumping one of the juniors as he enters the locker room, I smile.
It’s our last meet of the season before finals, and the Rochester Hills High School team has a ten and one season. The only reason we came in second at the East Lansing meet was because we had to scratch one of our relays at the last minute.
Not today. We’re in full force. Too bad my dad won’t be here to see it.
Grabbing a towel from the rack, I stalk to my locker and slam it open. Joe Donovan has spent the last three months badgering me to improve my times in the breaststroke, and he won’t even be here to see the progress I’ve made. Not that he’s been to any of my other meets. Dad likes to bluff and bluster—and control—but he could care less about supporting me when I need him most.
I slip off my sandals and track pants. What the hell do I care? I’ll never please the asshole anyway.
“Five minutes! Everyone in the pool for warm-ups. Let’s go, Wolves!”
As the assistant coach gathers the team, Pete Bridges opens the locker next to mine. A member of my relay team, he’s a sophomore like me—although he’d rather dive than swim.
He gives me a fist bump. “Hey, man. I tried texting you. Our race has been moved to last.”
I frown. News to me. I grab my duffle and riffle through its contents. “Damnit, I left my phone in my locker.” I glance at the clock. Christy was supposed to text me. We talked about studying for our western civ test after the meet. If she plans on going to the meet.
I need my phone.
I stand and slide my pants up my legs. “I’ll be back. If coach asks, I’m in the lavs, got it?”
Pete shakes his head. “Bro, you’re asking for it. Coach nailed Parsons’ ass to the wall at the last meet for showing up late.”
Clapping my friend on the shoulder, I grin. “Yeah, but he isn’t a Donovan.” As Pete holds up his middle finger, I laugh. “I can make it. Two minutes. How much you wanna bet?”
“Fuck you, man. Bell’s about to ring. There’s no way.”
“Twenty bucks?”
Pete slaps my extended hand and shrugs. “Why not?”
Glancing both ways, I exit the pool complex and stride toward the sophomore hall. As the dismissal bell rings, I cringe. Shit, I forgot the junior high kids get out five minutes earlier than the high schoolers.
No worries. I can do this.
Dodging the crowd, I turn the corner and sprint toward the high school wing. Laughter erupts from the kids at the far end of the hall.
“You’re a giant asshat, Killian! I hope you rot in hell!”
“Shit! That’s Penny.”
Shifting gears, I dodge a few of the junior high cheerleaders waving me down and pad across the cold linoleum floor in my bare feet. Of course, I couldn’t have remembered to wear my sandals...
“Face it, Fatso. You’re the biggest loser in school. Even the teachers think so. So why don’t you do everyone a favor and off yourself?”
Rage erupts through me like a chain of volcanoes in the Pacific. Who the fuck is this damn kid?
Clenching my fists, I get in his face. “Get the hell out of here, asswipe!” As the idiot runs away, I turn to Penny. “You okay, Sunshine? What happened?”
I stare at my best friend’s sister, trying not to cringe. A few months ago, Penny hacked off her beautiful curls. The drastic haircut hasn’t helped their unruliness. Colt didn’t explain why she’d done it, and no way am I going to ask. Our relationship hasn’t been the best since my mom called child services on Miranda. Not that I blame him.
Sighing, I extend my hand. “Come on.” Penny doesn’t budge. I grab her hand and try to yank her up. as her fingers grasp mine, a strange sensation floats up my arm. Her eyes widen. As her cheeks flush crimson, she pulls free from my grip.
I swallow hard. What the hell was that?
Ducking her head, she smooths her curls. “I’m fine, Luke. I don’t need help.”
“Hey, handsome! Are we still studying for history this afternoon?”
My pulse is going a hundred miles an hour as Christy strolls toward me dressed in her tiny cheer skirt. The green flecks of her hazel eyes sparkle. She presses her hip against me seductively and links her arm with mine.
My breath hitches. Damn, this girl. She’s been flirting with me for months. Her father won’t let her date until she turns sixteen in July. I can’t wait. We’ve shared a few kisses, but that’s it. I really like this girl. There’s no way I’m going to ruin my chances of dating her by breaking her father’s rules.
But her flirtations aren’t helping my willpower.
Putting a little distance between us, I grab her hand and squeeze her fingers. “Yeah, after my meet. You’re coming to watch, right?”
Her beautiful chestnut-colored hair shimmies down her back as she tosses it behind her shoulders with a giggle. “Of course I am, silly. I wouldn’t miss it.”
Blowing me a kiss, she winks, and my heart pounds against my chest like a drum corps. Shit, I’m whipped.
“Miss Ramsay, do you want detention every day this week? Get in here. Now!”
As old Mrs. Trenton, the battle-ax English teacher of the junior high, glares at Penny like an executioner leading her victim to the gallows, I shake my head. Damnit, even the teachers are horrible to Penny. Why does everyone have to pick on her all the time?
Ever since my mom tried to smooth over the whole hamster murder, poor Penny has suffered. And not just from the students bullying her. A few of the teachers have taken Miranda’s antics out on Penny as well. I’m not sure if Colt knows about it, but like Sergeant Ramsay used to say... not my circus, not my monkeys.
All of a sudden, my body lurches forward. Penny stares up at me, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she tugs her backpack free from my foot. Her shoulders hunch as she recoils from me. “S-sorry.”
Jesus, is she scared of me? Frowning, I place a hand on her arm. “Nah, it’s fine. You gonna be okay?”
Something unreadable sparks in Penny’s gaze. I haven’t spent much time with her since last summer, but she seems less engaged than she used to be. Subdued. Quiet. That can’t be good.
Shouldering her backpack, she opens the door to classroom door and mutters, “I got this.”
As she disappears inside, Mrs. Trenton’s formidable gaze finds mine through the sidelights of the door. I give it right back. The woman is a menace. I’m all for respecting my teachers. But Trenton plays favorites. It’s no secret she hated Colton Ramsay when he was in her class. She’d given him detention at least once a week. Now she’s taking Colt’s antics out on Penny.
“She isn’t going to get away with this.”
Christy’s fingers trace mine. “Luke? Don’t you have to be at the pool?”
Glancing at my watch, I curse. “Shit, I’m gonna be late.” I turn to Christy. “Can you do me a favor? Go tell the coach I’ll be there soon. I have to talk to my mom.”
Christy’s eyebrow arches. “About what?”
“Just a thing I gotta do. Please?”
With a quick glance in Mrs. Trenton’s classroom, she sighs. “Alright. I’ll see you at the meet?”
I give her a kiss on the cheek. “Yep.”
Turning around, I run toward my mother’s office with purpose. The days of bullying Penny Ramsay are over. In three months, Colt will be graduating from high school, and she won’t have anyone left at RHHS to protect her.
She needs me now more than ever.
*****
This is the private journal of Penny Elaine Ramsay. Do not read!!
JUNE 5, 2007
This stupid journal is a pain in my hind end. All it does is rehash bad memories that I don’t want in the first place. Worse, it makes me want to write everything down. And that could be a dangerous thing.
My new therapist, Ms. Janson, likes the journal idea and wants me to stick with it <cue the eye roll>. What is it with therapists and journals?
Oh yeah, new counselor. Again. Because Mom started drinking. Again. She missed several of our appointments, and Mrs. Caulfield fired us. Not that I’m complaining. The woman wasn’t very compassionate. But because mom is mandated to go to family counseling for at least another six months, we were assigned a new therapist.
Thankfully, this one doesn’t think joint counseling sessions are a good idea. She holds mom’s appointments separately from mine. That’s fine with me. Since the hair fiasco, my mother and I barely talk. I stay out of her way as much as I can.
Colt graduated from high school a week ago. In two months, he’ll be leaving. What am I going to do without him? Even though he’s working two jobs, I feel safer knowing he’s just down the hall every night.
Fortunately, I’ve got a new job this summer to take my mind off the bad. I’ll be working at the country club with Luke. Well, not in the same place. But I’ll see him every day that I’m there.
And this year, we’ll be in the same building at school. Maybe even some of the same classes. Honestly, I’m a little nervous about that.
Since Ms. Janson wants me to write out all my feelings, here is my dear diary confession: I think I’m in love with my brother’s best friend. I didn’t realize it until Janey Matthews came up to me during P.E. the last day of school and asked about Luke. Apparently, she’d heard he spends a lot of time at our house and that we’re neighbors. She wanted to know everything about him... what he likes, if he’s seeing anyone, and so on. Then she asked me to give him her number. It made me angry. I told her if she likes him so much, then she can tell him herself.
Jealousy makes people ugly. Right?
Luke spends every Saturday at our house lifting weights with Colt. I watch him all the time. It’s hard to ignore the feelings I get when he’s around... warm and gooey all over. He treats me like a person. He always sticks up for me.
My counselor told me I should tell him how I feel. I want to, but I’m afraid. Will he reject me like everyone else? Not that it would matter. He doesn’t know I’m alive, except as Colt’s sister.
Maybe I’ll paint about it in my next art session. Ms. Janson recommended art therapy as an alternate way to express my emotions. I hate to admit her ideas are working. I need to get these feelings out of my head or they’ll explode. Right now, I feel like a lost child struggling to find her way through the woods.
Three years, eleven months, and twenty-three days. Then I’ll be free.