Authors: Jenna Kay
“If you ask me that's what he gets for being a moron,” Janey remarked with sneer.
I threw Casey a questioning glance. “What happened to his hand?”
“Weren't you there?” he asked.
“No, she wasn't,” Janey answered for me, studying her manicured nails. “She was too busy making out with Brenton in the field way behind the barn.”
I turned my head slowly, my right eye twitching with vexation. “Thank you, Janey, for blabbing my business.”
She shrugged, still enthralled with her over priced nails. “Just postin' the truth, baby doll.”
“You are such a pez head,” I said jokingly.
“So, do ya want to know, or what?” Casey inquired, grabbing my attention.
“Know what?”
Frustration edged its way into his voice as he said, “About Don's hand!”
I cracked a grinned. “Yeah, you may proceed with the epic saga of ‘Don's Hand’.” I crossed my eyes at Janey, winning a giggle from her. I loved getting on Casey's nerves—he was so easy to tick off. He deserved a little payback, and I was more than willing to give it.
“Okay, I'll tell ya,” he said, getting his frustration in check. “As you know at every party it's wild and pretty much everyone gets wasted. Well, Don was especially wasted Saturday night.” He paused, making sure I was listening. I gestured for him to keep going. “Anyway, do you remember the huge disco ball hanging from the rafters of the barn?” I nodded a yes. “Well, his football buddies had this grand idea that he should crawl up onto the rafters and swing from the disco ball.”
“What?” I asked, appalled. I pictured the huge burly Don swinging on the disco ball like it was a horsey. “I know he's stupid, but even the stupidest of the stupids know that swinging on a disco ball hanging from the rafters of a hundred-year-old barn is stupid.” I've heard and seen people do some strange things while intoxicated, but this incident takes not one piece, but the
whole
cake.
“Exactly,” Casey agreed. “But here's the thing. Instead of the disco ball cord breaking away from the rafter, it's the whole she-bang.” He paused dramatically, adding, “So you got Don, then the disco ball, and then the rafter falling down. The whole thing sounded like an explosion goin' off.”
In my head I remembered hearing a crash coming from the barn, right before “I love you” drifted out of my and Brenton's mouth, and a two hour make-out session proceeded. Now I knew what had caused it.
“How did his hand get busted?”
“Oh, oh, get this!” He told me, morbidly excited. “When the rafter broke apart, it splintered, causing several sharp pieces to jut out. The sharpest piece pinned his hand to the ground, going straight through meat and bone. It took five guys to pull the smashed rafter off of him to get his hand loose. He went to the hospital, and they said he's gonna need five surgeries before he can use his hand again.
“Also, he was cut up all over his body from the broken glass of the disco ball.”
“It was his writing hand, too,” Janey pushed in, her voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy.
I stared at her in bewilderment. After Casey's little tale of Don Freeman's hand being stabbed by a sharp piece of wood, she chose to point out that it was his writing hand that was busted. Not that he could have broken his neck, paralyzing him. Or that he could have been impaled by the sharp rafter, killing him instantly. Oh. No. The whole incident was so tragic because now he would have to write with his weak hand, or get a cute cheerleader to write for him.
Boo. Hoo.
“What's goin' on out there?” Mr. Baker suddenly barked, waddling out of his office.
Casey straightened his smock. “Just getting ready to stock the back, sir.” I almost let out a giggle when Casey gave the old man a cheesy grin. He was such a butt kisser.
“I don't pay you three to stand around and gossip,” he snapped harshly, a bead of sweat glistening on his forehead. “Just because it's dead in here don't mean there ain't any workin' that needs doing. Miss Thomas,” he said, pointing a chubby finger at Janey, “go and assist Mr. Anderson in the back—I'm sure he could use some help.”
Janey's face brightened. “Yes, sir, Mr. Baker.”
“Yeah,” Casey added. “I really could use some assistance.”
Hurriedly, the twosome walked to the stockroom, not giving Mr. Baker time to second guess his orders. Sometimes I wondered if the old man was clueless, or just plain losing it. Why in the world would he put those two alone in his stockroom? There was absolutely no way that any work would be done back there tonight—unless you counted tongue wrestling as work.
He turned on me next. “Miss Miller, I know that customers are few tonight. And since there ain't no customers, I want ya to clean this store top to bottom.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Baker.” I forced a smile and bit my tongue. For some odd reason I wanted to rile him with a snarky comment, but he was too cool of a boss.
“All right, then,” he said, pulling his pants high above his waist. “I'll be in the office if ya need me. Oh, and Miss Miller?”
“Yes, Mr. Baker?”
“Make it sparkle.” He smiled and waddled back to his office, shutting the door.
I stared after him, bemused. Make it sparkle? Yeah. Whatever!
So with my orders bestowed on me I busied myself with making the store, uh,
sparkle
. Dusting and arranging shelves, washing windows, cleaning toilets, disinfecting counters. Doing whatever I could to keep myself busy, hoping time would go by faster. Also, doing whatever I could to not have to go to the stockroom. I totally didn't want to walk into something there.
Gross
.
After a couple of hours, without a single customer, I was down to sweeping floors. The music playing over the intercom was weighing my nerves down. Mr. Baker never changed the radio from the oldies station. The oldies did seem like the right station to play, since the store was still stuck in the fifties. Looking at the clock on the wall I almost jumped for joy—thirty-five minutes until closing!
I continued to sweep the floor, my goal to have it mopped right when we closed so I could get home and into bed. My hope on that goal vanished with the ringing of the bell, sounding in a customer. After two hours of no customers, one has decided to arrive right before we closed. UGH!
I dredged up a fake smile, even though I didn't have much energy left in me to make my face work. Not only had it been the first day of school, but I'd just worked my butt off cleaning, making the store sparkle and smell lemony fresh. Literally, I felt like someone had beaten me with a stick.
Turning around to greet the customer my smile dissolved, forming into a frown. The customer turned out to be Nick Reece, and there was no way I was going to waste a smile on that ignorant turd.
He walked up to me like he owned the place, smiling arrogantly. His hands were in both pockets of his designer jeans, his red silk shirt was fashionably un-tucked. Wisps of his dark blonde hair fell over his intense green eyes, his bright white teeth almost blinding me under the fluorescent lights. Yeah, he was a good looking guy but his attitude stank worse than dog farts.
“Hello, princess,” he said, smirking. “Doing a little sweeping, I see.”
“Hello, Nick the Douche,” I retorted, throwing in my pet name for him. “Doing nothing but taken up space, I see. Business as usual, huh?”
In the past my mouth has been known to stir up trouble, harboring a whole mess of vulgar words. That was why I kept it closed most of the time, to try to get along with people. With Nick, though, I always found it hard to control my mouth, causing me to say whatever popped in my head. And usually there was nothing nice to be said.
He glared at me, his eyes as cold as a winter day. “Funny as always, Clarity. Funny as always.”
I rolled my eyes. “What do ya want, Nick?”
He took a step closer, an arms length away, way too close for me.
“I want to know why you broke Kora and me up. Everything was goin' good, but you kept runnin' your mouth, telling lies about me.”
“What lies?” I interjected angrily.
He ignored my question. “You've never liked me. You didn't want Kora to be with me because you were jealous. You told her all this crap about me.
You
broke us up.” He pointed a finger at me.
Jealous? Was he insane?
“You know...I don't have time for this.” I took a couple of steps forward. “Face reality, Nick. I didn't break ya'll up—you did.”
Startling me, he grabbed my arm and pushed me back against the wall, knocking the breath out of me. The broom I'd been sweeping with fell to the floor, the sound of it echoing through the store. His hands found my shoulders, squeezing them roughly, holding me tight against the wall. My first thought was to scream, but I didn't want to show any weakness. I wasn't going to let him know for one second that I was afraid. I stared at him with stormy eyes.
“Listen and listen good, princess,” he snapped nastily. “You are the reason Kora's not talkin' to me. You are the reason she dumped me. You broke us up.” There was a vicious gleam in his eyes, causing me to shudder.
My throat suddenly felt dry, but I managed to speak. “Listen to me, N
ick
,” I spat out with equal animosity. “I had nothing to do with y'all's breakup. It's all your fault because you treated her like t-total crap. She finally realized she could do better. So quit blaming everyone but yourself, you sorry, nasty, self-lovin' waste of space.”
I tried with all my might to push him away, but he was much stronger than I. My struggling only seemed to anger him more, causing him to tighten his grip on my shoulders, making me gasp out in pain. Where were Casey and Janey? Where was Mr. Baker? Hadn't they heard any of this?
He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to keep his temper under control. He reeked of alcohol.
“You are gonna talk with her and tell her to forgive me. You are gonna get us back together...or something bad's gonna happen.” His jaw was clenched tightly.
Smiling sardonically I said, “Oh yeah? What are ya gonna do...tell your daddy?”
By the way his face blazed red and his veins began popping out on his forehead, I knew I'd gone too far with my smart mouth. That was why I always kept it shut—I mean
tried
to keep it shut. I braced myself, waiting on him to explode and rage all over me. Then a familiar voice, a voice I'd heard at school, sounded close by.
“Do we have a problem here?”
Quickly Nick dropped his arms to his sides, backing away from me. I looked for the person the voice belonged to, my heart stuttering in my chest. And when my eyes found that person...
...My jaw dropped.
To. The. Floor.
Chapter Five
Standing there by the magazine rack, casually flipping through a magazine, was the boy with the glowing blue eyes. Only now his eyes were no longer glowing, but shined an unnatural light blue, so light they almost seemed clear. He stared at Nick, holding a firm expression on his flawless face.
My feet felt cemented to the floor. A lump had formed uncomfortably in my throat, pulsating along with my beating heart. There he was, right in front of me, the mysterious boy. The most strange but beautiful boy my eyes had ever seen. A sense of calmness drifted through my veins, making the fight with Nick seem a million miles away. Again, the intoxicating scent of lavender took over the air, covering over the lemony smell from my cleaning supplies.
There was something about him that called out to me, as if a warm tug was pulling my heart toward him. It was like I knew him, and at the same time I didn't know him. His eyes had left Nick and found mine. A shiver tore through my body, not from fear, but from relief—I was relieved to see him. His lips parted into a smile—I smiled back. Of course that was when Nick yanked my arm, breaking me from my blissful trance.
“What ya think your doin', princess,” he scowled. “We're not done talkin'...”
“Yes you are,” the boy cut in strongly, his gaze back on Nick, his jaw set in a serious lock. “And if I were you, I'd take my hand off of her.” The magazine was still opened in his hand.
Nick shuddered. Letting go of my arm, he walked up to the boy, stopping a few feet away. “I don't know who ya are, but I'll let you in on a little secret—you do
not
want to screw around with me. 'Cause if you do, I'll beat ya to the ground, and from the looks of ya, you don't look like much of a fighter. You'd maybe last five seconds with...”
The boy suddenly held up a hand and Nick went silent right away. After a few seconds he dropped his hand slowly, narrowing his eyes.
“That's enough,” he told Nick gently. “Now go home and rest your polluted mind, little human.”
An uneasy,
squeamish
few seconds passed by. My eyes flickered from Nick to the boy. I would've been lying if I'd said that I wasn't scared for the boy—Nick towered over him by a few inches. I tried closing my eyes but they seemed to be glued opened. And just when I thought Nick was going to wail on him, the biggest surprise of the whole day took place, making my curiosity cultivate and confusion to settle deeper into my already brackish brain.
Nick, after all of his hate-filled threats, did not go ballistic and pound the boy to the ground. Instead he simply obeyed the boy's order, opening the door and walking out, without saying another word.