BETH
I need a cigarette and a smoker who will trust me. Unfortunately, I haven’t come across either of those in my four hours of living the teen version of Deliverance. From a distance, while the juniors and seniors head to lunch, I follow two guys with long hair and sagging jeans. I hope I can convince one of them to give me a drag.
They round a corner and I give them a sec. If I approach before they light up, they’ll try to act cool like they aren’t doing anything. Then there will be nothing I can say to convince them I won’t snitch.
Hell, I wouldn’t believe me. The new girl in a white button-down shirt.
I’ve given them long enough. I turn the corner, prepared to tell them to chill, but the words catch in my mouth. They aren’t there.
It’s a short hallway with double doors leading out. I hurry to the window and watch as the two guys duck and weave through the parking lot. My head smacks the door. Damn. I never thought they’d skip. First day. That’s hard-core.
At the sound of a knock, my heart kicks out of my chest and with one glance out the window it melts. It’s him. My body sags with relief. It’s really him. I press the door open and the moment the warm summer sun caresses my face, Isaiah gathers me into his arms. Normally, I wouldn’t do this—touch him so aware. Today, I don’t mind. In fact, I bury myself in him.
“It’s okay.” Isaiah kisses my hair and his hand cradles the back of my head, keeping me close. He kissed me. This embrace should bother me and I should push him away. We don’t connect like this. Not sober. Today, his touch entices me to hold him tighter.
“How did you know?” I mumble against the material of his shirt.
“Figured you’d come out for a smoke at some point. This is the only place anyone has been doing it.”
His heart has a strong, steady rhythm. There were times, in my search for weightlessness, that I pushed too hard. Drank too much. Inhaled more than I should. Became physical with guys who were no good for me. I would go beyond weightlessness as a balloon on a string that had been snapped—left alone in a frightening abyss. With one touch, Isaiah could ground me. Keep me from floating away with his arms as my anchor. His steady beating heart the reminder he would never let go.
With reluctance, I put space between us. “How did you know I’d be at this school?”
“I’ll explain it to you later. Let’s go before we get caught.” He holds his hand out to me.
“Where?” I play along, knowing what my answer will be. I want the fantasy—if only for a second.
“Wherever you want. You once said that you wanted to see the ocean. Let’s go to the ocean, Beth. We can live there.”
The ocean. The scene comes alive in my mind. Me in a pair of old faded jeans and a tank top. My hair blowing wildly in the breeze. Isaiah with his hair buzzed short and shirt off, his tattoos frightening the tourists as they stroll by. I’ll sit barefoot on the warm sand and watch the crashing waves while he watches me. Isaiah always keeps his eye on me.
I wrap my arms around myself and clutch the hem of my shirt to prevent myself from grasping him. “I can’t.”
He keeps his arm extended, but the weight of my words causes it to waver. “Why not?”
“Because if I run away, if I break Scott’s rules, he’ll send my mom to jail.”
Isaiah’s hand clenches into a fist and his arm drops to his side. “Fuck him.”
“My mom!”
“Fuck her too. In fact, why were you even with her Friday night? You promised me you’d stay away from her. She hurts you.”
“No, it was her boyfriend. Mom would never hurt me.”
“She let you take the fall for her bullshit and she sat back while he used you as a fucking piñata. Your mom is a nightmare.”
A car door slams in the parking lot, and we slink to opposite corners by the door.
“We need to talk, Beth.”
I agree. We do. I nod toward the pinewoods. “Let’s go over there.”
Isaiah pokes his head out and scans the area. He waves his hand for me to go. We don’t run. We walk in absolute silence. Once we’re deep enough in, I turn, waiting for the question that has to be tearing him apart.
“You lied to me.” Isaiah shoves his hands into his jeans pocket and stares at the brown pine needles on the ground. “You told me you never knew your dad.”
Okay. Not a question, but an accusation. One I deserve. “I know.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to talk about my dad.”
He keeps looking at those damn needles. A few years ago, I told Isaiah the same lie I gave everyone else regarding my father. Isaiah was so moved that he told me something he’d never told anyone else: that his mother had no idea who his father was. The lie I told Isaiah bonded him to me for life. By the time I figured out what cemented our relationship, that he believed we both had huge question marks on the paternal side, it was too late to tell him the truth.
“You know how people are.” I hate the desperation in my voice. “They love gossip and if there’s a story, they’ll dig, and I never wanted to think about the bastard again. When I told you I never knew who my father was, I had no idea that was your reality. I didn’t know that was the story that would make us friends.”
His eyes shut at the word friends and his jaw jumps as if I said something to hurt him. But we are friends. He’s my best friend. My only friend.
“Isaiah…” I have to give him something. Something that will let him know what he means to me. “What happened with my dad…” It hurts to breathe. “When I was in third grade…” Say it already!
Isaiah’s gray eyes meet mine. The kindness in them fades as they turn a little wild. “Is your dad around?” In the predatory movement of a panther, he takes several steps toward me. “Are you in danger?”
I shake my head. “No. He’s gone. Uncle Scott and Dad hated each other. Scott didn’t even know Dad left.”
“Your uncle?”
“He’s a dick, but he’d never lay a hand on me. I swear.”
He blinks and the wildness fades, but his muscles still ripple with anger. “I trusted you.” His three simple words gut me.
“I know.” I can give him honesty now. “I wish I could go with you.”
“Then do it.”
“She’s my mom. I expected you to understand.” It’s a low blow. I stay silent, unmoving, waiting for him to swallow his demons.
“I get it,” he says in a hard voice, “but it doesn’t mean I agree.”
Good. He’s forgiven me. Guilt still eats at me, but at least my stomach muscles relax while the guilt feasts.
“Nice shirt,” he says, and I smile at his playful tone.
“Fuck you.”
“There’s my girl. I was wondering if they sucked out your personality in first period.”
“You’re not far off.” Time is running short. I’ve lost so much already. I can’t lose him. “What do we do?”
“What are your uncle’s terms?”
“No running away and no more seeing you or Noah.” Scott said he wanted me to completely forget my old life. That the only way I’d have a fresh start was to make a clean break and if I wouldn’t willingly amputate the past, then he’d do it for me.
Isaiah grimaces. “And?”
“No ditching school. No being disrespectful to his wife or teachers or people.”
“You’re screwed.”
“Fuck you again.”
“Love you too, Sunshine.”
I ignore him. “Good grades. No smoking. No drugs. No drinking. And…no contact with Mom.”
“Hmm. I agree with the last one. Can you make it happen this time?”
I glare at him. He flips me off. God, he’s aggravating. “No more cursing. Keep curfew.”
His head pops up. “He’s letting you out?”
“Probably with a GPS stitched under my forehead. I have to clear every second of every outing through him. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you’re a bright girl who could manipulate the devil for a passage out of hell. You get out of that house and I’ll come get you. Any day. Any time. And I’ll have you safely home by curfew.”
Hope fills me, yet it’s not enough. I need more than Isaiah. I need something else. I fiddle with the ends of my shirttail. “Will you take me to see my mom?”
He sighs. “No. She’s no good for you.”
“He’ll kill her.”
“Let him. She made her choices.”
I stumble back as if he punched me. “How can you say that?”
The anger returns to his eyes. “How? A few months ago, she let you bleed in front of her. How could she go back to that bastard? How could she let you take the fall for her? Don’t play the sympathy card on me. No one fucks with you. Do you understand me?”
I nod to placate him, but I’ll find another way. Isaiah’s right. I can play Scott, keep Isaiah, and find a way to take care of Mom.
He pulls something out of his back pocket and tosses it to me. I slide open a shiny new gray cell phone. “We saw Scott trash your cell so I bought a new one for you and put you on my plan.”
I quirk up a smile. “You got a plan?”
He shrugs. “Noah and I got a plan and we put you on it. Cheaper that way.”
“How…” Echo inspired. “Grown-up.”
“Yeah. Noah’s been doing a lot of that.”
“How did you know? That I’d be here? In Groveton? At school?”
Isaiah focuses on the trees. “Echo. At the police station, she sat close enough to your uncle and your mom to overhear what was going down. Then Echo talked Shirley into giving us the rest of the information. Scott told Shirley his plans.”
“Great,” I mumble. “I’m in debt to psycho bitch.” The moment I say it, I feel a twinge of remorse. She’s not entirely crazy, but the truth is our relationship is strained. She’s sweet and she’s nice and she makes Noah happy, but she’s brought change…too much change…and how can I like that?
He shifts from one side to another. That’s not good. “What else, Isaiah?”
“Echo sold a painting.”
I raise my eyebrows. “So?” Echo’s been selling her paintings since last spring.
He reaches into his back pocket again and produces a wad of cash. Holy Mother of God, I’m going to start painting. “It was one of her favorites. Something she painted for her brother before he died. Noah was ticked when he found out.” He holds out the money. “She did it for you.”
Pissed. I’m beyond pissed. “I don’t want her charity.” She didn’t do it for me. She did it for Noah and Isaiah, but she mainly did it so I’d have to owe her and she knows that pride is one of the few things I rightfully own.
Isaiah closes the distance between us and shoves the bills in my back pocket before I have a chance to step away. “Take it. I want to know you have cash in case you need to bail quickly. It’s my debt to pay.”
The wad of cash feels heavy in my back pocket. Even though I’m determined to see this year out, I also know that life sucks. It’s best to be prepared.
The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. “I gotta go.”
As I walk past him, Isaiah wraps a hand around my arm. “One more thing.” His eyes darken into shadows. “Call me. Anytime. I swear to you, I’ll answer.”
“I know.” It takes a second to work up the courage to say it, but he’s my best friend and worth the words. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you.” Isaiah releases me, and as I walk back to school my fingers trace the area where my skin still burns from his touch. He’s my friend…my only friend.
I pull on the handle of the same door I’d snuck out of and my heart sinks as the door stays shut. No. I broke the cardinal rule of ditching: always make sure you can sneak back in. I wiggle the handle. Nothing. I wiggle the other door’s handle. Same result. The dread sparks deep in my stomach and becomes a flash fire of panic in a heartbeat. I can’t get back in, which means I’ll be busted when I don’t show for next period. When Scott finds out, he’ll burst a blood vessel.
With both hands, I grab the handle again. “Come on!” I yank. The door gives. A hand flies out, snatches my arm, and drags me into the building.
I glance up at my rescuer and my insides become liquid when I see the most beautiful light brown eyes staring down at me. Ruining the moment, their owner speaks. “I’m not sure this is what your uncle meant by showing you around.”
“Damn, my life sucks,” I mutter.
It’s Ryan. I really hate this town.