Blood and Sympathy (10 page)

I hope you liked the
music box. I had a hard time picking out a design, but my shop teacher told me
that Claire means clear and bright, and I figured the sun was something a
person sees when there aren't any clouds in the sky. The song sort of went
along with it naturally. If you don't like it, it's okay. I can make you
something else later.

I'd be honored to hold
your hand while you get your tattoo.

Counting down the days
until I see your pretty smile.

Braden

I walked down to the lobby and put my letter to
Claire in the outgoing mail basket. There was a signup sheet on the counter for
volunteers needed to help build a shelter at one of the local parks in May.
Doing that was always hard work, and depending on which guards they sent along,
most of the time they made sure you didn't have any time to fuck off. Most of
the guys put in for it so they could have a change of scenery. I scanned the
names and was surprised to see Brogan on the list.

When I got back to my room, Brogan was leaning
against the wall watching me. I pushed through the door, trying my best to
ignore him. I didn't want any trouble, and sure as shit, that's exactly what he
had in mind.

"Since when did you get to be too important
to talk to your brother?" he asked.

Since you became such a prick
, I wanted to
say. I swallowed the smart-assed comment. "What do you want, Brogan?"

He followed me inside, his eyes darting around the
small space before coming to rest on my letters from Claire. I reached for them,
but I wasn't fast enough. He snatched them away from me and grinned.
"Damn, these smell good enough to eat."

"Give 'em back," I said through clenched
teeth.

"Claire Copeland. Claire Copeland. Why's that
name sound so familiar?" He scratched the back of his head and thought for
a minute. All of a sudden, realization lit up his face and he started laughing.
"Bro, you better wake up and smell the fucking coffee. First off, even if
she were to look twice at your pathetic ass, her daddy would have your hide if
you came within a hundred yards of her."

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of
my nose. "It's not like that. Claire and I are just writing letters back
and forth."

"That right? I heard there was some hot chick
up here visiting you. I told the boys they had to be mistaken. No hot chic could
possibly want anything to do with the likes of you."

"Brogan, give the letters back, and leave. I
don't need you starting any of your shit." I held out my hand, hoping he'd
just give me the letters and go without causing trouble.

"Brogan!" the guard's voice roared.

Brogan's attention shot toward the hallway where
one of the guards stood with his hands on his hips, giving him a death glare.
"I was just leaving," he mumbled.

He started out of the room, and I said,
"Brogan? The letters?"

He opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut
before tossing the envelopes onto my bed and going.

I let loose a shuddering breath and collapsed on
the mattress as soon as they were out of sight. I hated him knowing anything
about my life, and I couldn't wait to get as far from him as possible. I didn't
trust him any further than I could throw him.

Claire
Copeland

In the weeks following my visit with Braden, I
didn't have a lot of free time with graduation approaching. But I managed to
zip off a quick letter to let him know that despite my inability to speak in
complete sentences, I had really enjoyed meeting him.

Dear Braden,

It was really nice to
meet you, too. You don't need to apologize for not being talkative. It wasn't
just you. For whatever reason, the cat seemed to have gotten my tongue that
day. Trust me when I tell you, I am normally never that quiet. If you doubt
that, just ask Olivia.

I would love to see
the grin on your face when you walk out of WTJDC as a free man. Of course I
want to be there! There is a lot going on with graduation, but I promise to
make time for you.

I didn't get into
trouble when I got home, Dad didn't even notice I was gone, and Olivia was
uncharacteristically happy for me. I think she envies me a little and wants to
live vicariously through me. I don't need your help pissing off my dad; believe
me when I tell you, I am more than capable of doing that all by myself.
J

Standing up for what I
believe in has never been an issue. Learning when to say when is another story.
There are times when it's best just to swallow my pride and suck it up like a
big girl. Ha!

You've inspired me to
start my own bucket list. I have written it down, but no one has seen it but me.
Maybe we can share our lists with each other. I'll help you with yours, and you
can help me with mine.

No, I'm not afraid of
the dark. Some of my best times have been after dark. Olivia and I have never
seen anything creepy running the trails at the lake, but sometimes homeless
people hang out there. They're mostly harmless bums, and they don't stick around
too long, since the park rangers keep a pretty close watch and chase them off
before they can get too comfortable.

The music box is
beautiful. If Claire means clear and bright, what does Braden mean?

Looking forward to
seeing you again on June first!

Claire

I felt like I was standing on the edge of a giant
precipice, that my life was about to change in inconceivable ways. I looked
forward to new beginnings--being out of high school--finally. I hadn't made up
my mind what I was going to do as far as college was concerned, much to my
dad's dismay.

Summer was meant for fun. I vowed to spend every
day living my life to the fullest, and if that meant deciding whether to jump
or stay put, I was hopeful that I'd get a sign from the infinite unknown to
help me make up my mind.

In some ways, Braden and I were a lot alike. He
would be putting one foot in front of the other and looking for his wings along
the way. His advantage over me was that he was coming to the edge with a clean
slate, whereas my board had been written and erased so many times, I wasn't
sure anyone would ever be able to read and understand what I was trying to do.

Though I was in no hurry to commit to any kind of
plan, there was always a niggling tickle in the back of my mind reminding me
that time waits for no one, and I could run but I couldn't hide.

I put in my application to help out in the bakery
over the summer, and I was looking forward to making some extra cash so that I
could maybe see about buying my own car. So what if I told Dad I wanted a job
to save up some money to help with furthering my education. I don't think I
made a very convincing case, but if he didn't believe my story, he never said.
I accidentally on purpose neglected to mention the job was at the bakery. We
both knew how he felt about my pursuing something as nonsensical as working in a
kitchen for a living. He'd reminded me many times that a woman's place was in
the kitchen -- only if her husband could afford to keep her there.

First, my graduation.

Second, Braden's homecoming.

Claire
Copeland

It stopped raining long enough for the graduation
ceremony to be held on the football field instead of in the all-purpose room.
Ours wasn't a large class, but it was the biggest in the history of Hensteeth
High. Most of my classmates had attended school here every year from kindergarten
through the twelfth grade.

Having the last name Copeland earned me the good
fortune of being one of the first students to cross the makeshift stage and
accept my diploma. Being in front of a group of people made me nervous as hell,
and the warm sun beaming down didn't help matters. I shifted in the metal
folding chair, trying to blot the bead of sweat trickling down my spine.

"Claire Copeland," Everett McLaughlin, the
high school principal, bellowed with his baritone voice. I swallowed and prayed
I wouldn't fall on my ass in front of the whole town as I made my way up the
stairs to collect the tiny piece of paper that said I'd made it. Finally, I was
free.

Dad and Olivia were the only two people here on my
behalf. Other than a few stray cousins somewhere in parts of the country
unknown, they were my only family. I sought them out when I had my diploma in
my sweaty little hands, as if to tell them, "See nothing to worry about, I
made it after all."

Dad wore an expression that may have been a smile.
I wasn't entirely sure, since it was something he seldom did for my benefit.
Even my sister the drama queen dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue
and gave me a thumbs up. She mouthed, "I love you," which almost made
me misty-eyed.

As soon as the ceremony was over, I ditched the
cap and gown and changed into something more comfortable. My graduation party
was held in the basement of Friend's Church. I stuck around long enough to
satisfy my dad, and went to get the keys to the SHO from Olivia.

"Now, I don't have to remind you not to drink
and drive, right?" Olivia asked, dangling the keys in front of my face
like a carrot on a stick.

I snatched them from her and said, "You know
me better than that."

"I do, and that's why I asked."

"I'm taking my sleeping bag. It's warm enough
to sleep in the car if I get too drunk to drive."

It was a tradition to make the rounds, stopping at
every classmate's house to congratulate them before moving on to the next
place. Good thing it was such a small class, or it would seriously cut into my "fuck
school let's get drunk" plans for the night. The last stop for everyone
was Trevor Mills' place.

Trevor's parents owned half the county, and they'd
agreed to have a party on their property, but there were rules. Once you drove
through the front gates, you couldn't leave unless you were totally sober or
you had a designated driver to take you home. Since I didn't plan on leaving
until the sun came up, it wouldn't be a problem for me.

I'd maybe had two cups of beer, three tops, and I
was ready to make my way out to the Mills' party.

"Claaaiiirre." I recognized that voice. The
way he drawled it out, making it sound like "Clay-air," annoyed the
fuck out of me?

I turned toward him. "What do you want,
Alistair?" He was completely shitfaced and leering at me like a dog eyeing
a t-bone. I reached into my jeans for the car keys, ready to make a hasty
retreat if he decided to do something ignorant.

"Talk to me, Clay-air," he said,
grabbing his crotch. "You know you want some of the snake."

"Fuck off, Alistair," I said evenly. I
began walking again, and thankfully, he didn't follow. Once I was in the
driver's seat of the car, I locked the doors, turned the key in the ignition,
and breathed a huge sigh of relief when the engine fired up on the first crank.

I hadn't driven very far when I noticed headlights
in my rearview mirror. At first, I didn't think anything of it, as there was
bound to be a lot of traffic going this way to reach Trevor's house. The twin
beams gained on me in a hurry, and when the truck was riding my back bumper, I
realized it was Alistair. "Fucking asshole," I muttered.

His four cylinders would never be able to keep up
with the SHO--I knew I could outrun him--but we were on a curvy gravel road
that had just been graded. If my wheels got into that loose gravel, I would be
in trouble. I pressed the gas pedal and pulled away from him for a few seconds.

I didn't dare take these curves any faster. My
hands gripped the steering wheel, and I leaned forward as though that would
give me a better view of where I was going. He was right on my ass, and I
couldn't shake him. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and my heart was
threatening to explode out of my ribcage.

The car fishtailed, and I had to ease off the gas
to get her righted. Once I did that, Alistair rammed his pickup into the back
end of the Taurus, sending me spinning out of control toward a steep
embankment.

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself for impact.
Luckily, I went straight in and not at an angle, so the car didn't roll. It was
a rough, bumpy ride, and I vaguely remembered being airborne for a second or
two. It felt like it lasted forever, when in reality it was over in a matter of
seconds when I came to an abrupt stop on a cement culvert.

When I came to, there was steam rising from the
front of the car. "Olivia is going to fucking kill me," I said groaning.
I leaned back against the leather seat and wiggled my extremities, making sure
nothing was broken. My right ankle didn't feel so hot, and when I wiped the
tears from my cheek, my hand came away bloody.

I was pretty sure the car wouldn't be visible from
the road, and I would have to climb up and out of the ditch. The strong, acrid
smell of gas burned my nose, and I knew I needed to get away from the car. I
had my cell phone sitting in the center cup holder, but who knew where it landed.
I groped around and found it beneath the passenger seat. I clutched it and climbed
out of the car.

There was no way I could put any weight on my
ankle. I didn't think it was broken, but it sure as shit didn't feel good
enough to carry my ass out of that ditch. I crawled up the hill on my hands and
knees.

I was crying, I was pissed, and I wanted to kill
that motherfucking Alistair for doing this to me. Of course, the selfish prick
hadn't bothered to stop to see if I was okay. I sat on the side of the road.
Who the fuck was I going to call?

Claire
Copeland