TIED (A Fire Born Novel) (12 page)

“I can’t?” I lugged my backpack over my shoulder and left her standing in the hallway. I had no right to be upset, none at all, but my heart wasn’t listening to my head.

Benny followed me into Algebra as Mr. Jones began walking the aisles, handing back our exams—the one I’d forgotten about. A giant red D blazed back at me from the top of my paper. I folded it and stuffed it in my bag.

“We will be moving on and beginning our review for the final exam today. For any of you who did not do well on this test …” He glanced at me briefly. “I suggest you attend help sessions after school in my office.” He scrawled his excuse for writing on the whiteboard while the class took out their textbooks.

“How’d you do?” Benny leaned forward from her desk.

“Same as always.”

“I’ll go to help sessions with you if you want me to.”

“You get straight A’s, Ben. It might be a little obvious why you’re there.”

“Then let me help you.”

“We’ve tried that. You’re a crappy teacher. I’ll go by myself.”

Once again, I had zero desire to try to decipher Mr. Jones’ explanations about algebra. It was akin to learning a different language; I didn’t understand anything he said, but I couldn’t fail the class.

“What is that?” Benny asked, rubbing my neck with her thumb.

“Stop.” I pushed her hand away. “Did you just lick me? Gross.”

“Lay … it’s blood.” Her voice softened. “You have blood on your neck.” She touched it again. “Why is there blood on your neck?”

I touched the wet spot where she’d dragged her spit-covered thumb.

“I don’t know. I probably scratched an old mosquito bite.”

“Big mosquito.” She laid her finger on it again.

“Will you stop?” I covered it with my hair.

I didn’t remember everything from the night before, and clearly neither did Benny, but my skull cracking the side of the car was pretty vivid. My head seemed okay, though, for once, all things considered. I rubbed my neck again, hoping the blood was no longer visible. Strangely, fear wasn’t in the forefront of my mind; curiosity had taken its place.

Something inside me had changed—almost as though I’d woken up after a long, exhausting sleep.

• • •

Mr. Jones sat at his desk scribbling notes, as I walked into his office after class.

He glanced up. “Miss LaBelle, what can I do for you today?” He busied himself with his paper again.

“I need to set up help sessions. For the final.” The thought of extra math sent me into a state of anxiety.

He rifled through his class calendar. “Let me see … tomorrow afternoon is available.” He glanced up again and went rigid, his body rocking back and forth.

“Mr. Jones?”

No response.

“Mr. Jones, are you all right?” I took an apprehensive step forward.

His hand shot up toward my neck. I lurched backward, missing his reach by inches as he forced his arm back down with a crash, throwing the contents of his desk across the floor.

“No!” He shuddered, collapsed, his body jumping in spasms as he slumped down, and mumbled under his breath, “Only a child, a child. No. I won’t.” He shook his head from side to side, drool dribbling from his mouth before he went still and silent, his eyes staring vacantly.

“Mr. Jones!” I leapt over the desk and propped him up, leaning his head against the back of the chair. “Help!”

• • •

The crowd of onlookers dispersed as the paramedics wheeled Mr. Jones into the ambulance, and I was left trying to explain to Mrs. Blake, the school nurse, and Mr. Thomas, our principal, what happened.

“It’s all right, dear, we know you aren’t to blame.” Mrs. Blake patted my shoulder. “Mr. Jones has been under a lot of strain this year. Very unfortunate.” She shook her head. “Mr. Thomas, I believe Layla should be free to go back to class. There’s nothing more she can tell us.”

Mr. Thomas nodded absently and waved me away. My world kept on spinning.

• • •

Max leaned against his car in the parking lot as I came down the front steps in a stupor.

“Tell me you haven’t been here all day.” I smiled, walking up to him.

He smirked. “What if I have?”

“Have you?”

“No. Just pulled up.” He reached his hand out. “Did something happen? You look pale.” His posture went from calm and relaxed to stone still and alert.

“One of my teachers. I think he had a stroke.”

“Oh. I’m … I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“Yeah, not sure what happened. He went all … weird.” It creeped me out. “Anyway, what’s up?” I tried to shake off the event and distract myself. “Where’s my car?” I turned in a complete circle; it wasn’t in the parking lot where I’d left it.

“At your house. Under the tarp. Where it needs to stay.”

“It’s not that bad.”

He scrunched his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t my fault it had been demolished; I was happy it still ran at all.

“Come here.” He put his arms around my waist, and pulled me into him, his cheeks reddening.

“You okay?” He was never shy.

“Better than okay. I just need to get used to us being together like this, is all.” He pulled me into him.

I jerked away. “Meaning?”

He laughed and caught my belt loop, drawing me back again. “Meaning I’ve been
waiting,
and
hoping,
to do
this
in public for a while now.” He lifted my chin, running his fingers over my cheek, and brushed my mouth with his before pressing his lips against mine.

Heat rose to my face.

“Now who’s shy?” he whispered, kissing me again.

“Well, well, who’s the new beau, Layla?” Dena stood on the sidewalk, clad in her three-inch heels and mini skirt, with Devon by her side in dark jeans and button up dress shirt, his hair disheveled as if he’d been rolling around on the ground.

“No one you need to concern yourself with.” I glowered at Devon.
How dare he walk over here with her?

“Layla,” he said with a curt, formal nod, making no comment or gesture to Max at all.

“Devon.” I grumbled. “Is there something the two of you need?”

Dena leaned against the hood of the car, the front of her shirt hanging open, and traced Max up and down with her gaze, licking her lips. “I can wait.” A devilish grin spread across her mouth.

In an instant, I was inches from her face, and Benny was inches from mine.

She’d come from nowhere. “Not the time. Not the place, Lay.” She turned to Dena. “I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be.” Her tone was friendly, her smile deadly. “I suggest you be on your way. Now.” Benny gestured down the sidewalk.

“Another time, then.” Dena sauntered off, dragging a sheepish and dazed looking Devon behind her.

I swung around to face Benny. “What the hell was that?”

“You were about to level her! Getting suspended may hamper finals. Unless you’d rather hang out here all summer?”

“You came out of nowhere.”

“I can’t help it if you’re so wrapped up in Max’s arms you don’t notice me walking down the sidewalk.” Her gaze shifted toward my neck.

Max hauled me to him by the arm and pushed my hair behind my shoulder. “What is that?” His tone was menacing.

“Still?” I rubbed at it.

“What’d you mean, still?” He touched the remnants and brought his fingers to his nose.

“Ew! That’s worse than Benny’s spit! Anyway, it doesn’t even hurt.”

His eyes darkened. “That’s because it’s not your blood.”

Cold seeped into my veins like I’d been doused with ice water.

12

Max’s jaw clenched, eyebrows knitted into a scowl as he cornered the road a little too fast and threw the car into third gear.

“Where are we going?” I held onto the door frame.

“I have a surprise,” he said with a bite in his voice.

“Going to elaborate, or should I guess?”

He down-shifted and came to an abrupt stop in front of a beachfront house that appeared encased entirely in glass. The same Pygmy date palms my mom had planted at our house flourished in neatly landscaped bunches throughout the immense green lawn, while Washingtonian palms stood in stately columns, reaching for the second story roof. Gardenias spread out in lush clumps, their pure white blooms contrasting the glossy green leaves and drenching the air in a spicy sweetness.

“Whose house is this?” I asked.

“It’s my house,” he said, cutting the engine.

“Your house?” I raised my eyebrows.

“My house.” He opened his car door.

I climbed out of the passenger side, taking in my surroundings.

The ocean lay visible beyond the sand dunes in a clear blue expanse while the Intracoastal Waterway stretched along the coast behind us.

“Your house?”
I repeated again.

“Mine.” He smiled, held out his hand, and led me across the yard.

“I thought you lived with your Grandmother?”

“I do.” He swung the front door open, and I gasped.

Floor to ceiling windows encircled the entire first floor, flooding the house in sunlight and ushering the coast into view from all directions. Dark ebony floors reflected the afternoon light. Max led me past the living room, filled with overstuffed cream colored couches and armchairs, and into the kitchen where he dug around in the refrigerator as I stood there, my gaze darting around the spacious house, up to the soaring ceilings, and over to the gleaming stainless steel appliances.

“Isn’t it a little big?”

He shrugged. “I guess. I haven’t officially moved in yet, so I’ve never really thought about it.

We’ve got … juice, Coke, water? I can make coffee?”

“I like tea.”

He rifled around under the counter.

“Most people don’t have full refrigerators in houses they don’t live in,” I said, trying to catch his attention.

“Roommates,” he said. “I’ll have to remember the tea.” His tone sounded automated, monotone, as he searched through the cabinets.

“Care to explain the house, or are you having fun keeping me in the dark?”

“My mother left me the house.” He paused for second. “I don’t live here because I’m not of age. So my roommates stay here.” He opened a drawer.

I took a step closer and rotated him around, holding his face in my hands. “Don’t shut me out.”

His shoulders relaxed.

“Your mom left you the house?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled. “When I was young. I come over now and then, make sure it’s still standing.” He gave a weak smile. “I wanted to show it to you. I’m moving in soon.”

I frowned. “I thought eighteen was the legal age to live on your own?”

“My grandmother has ways around the system. Anyway, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to shut you out. It’s hard to come here sometimes, but … next time, I’ll have tea.” He grinned and reached for my hand. “Let me show you around.” He raised his hands toward the soaring twenty foot ceilings.

We toured the first floor, every room as beautiful as the next—the same incredible views of the water, the same glowing wood floors. He led me out on the back deck overlooking the ocean, and we leaned against the wood railing.

“It’s beautiful here, Max.”

“Thanks.” His steady gaze fixed toward the water. “My consolation prize. No mother, but an awesome house.” I put my arm around him, unsure what to say.

Since my mom’s house was on the ocean, too, I was already spoiled by the magnificent views of the Atlantic, but there was a magic at Max’s all of its own. I hoped he would know it, too, someday.

As the day faded into a golden afternoon light, we settled in Adirondack chairs that had been bleached dull gray by the sun. Six of them lined up facing the water, and we sat in the two closest together. He rubbed his thumb over my hand, seeming lost in thought.

I rested my head against the back of the wooden chair and glanced over at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember about your mom—I shouldn’t have pried.”

He squeezed my hand. “That’s okay. You weren’t prying.”

“Is everything else okay?” He still seemed so distant, staring out at the water.

“Yeah. I’m okay as long as I’m with you.” He sounded unsure we would continue to be together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I, Lay.” He smirked. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What is it, then?”

He took a deep breath. “I really don’t know where to begin.”

Here it comes. I knew this was
too good to be true.

He squeezed my hand. “I can’t lose you. I know that sounds insane. Especially since you thought I left you. Which I didn’t—not for good, anyway—just so that’s clear.” He ran his fingers through his hair, standing up. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

Warm water slapped against our ankles as we waded along the shore.

“Layla … we’ve been friends for a really long time.”

“Yeah …”

“What do you remember from our childhood?” He kicked the water.

“The usual stuff.” The caution in my tone was hard to hide. “Playing, hanging out …”

He shook his head. “I mean, what do you remember about
where
we used to play?”

“I—” I glanced at him, doubt rising. “I remember the forest, the waterfall, the beach …”

He averted his eyes. “Do you remember how we used to get to those places? You know we weren’t
here
right? I mean, not all the time.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer.

He took a deep breath. “Do you remember your dream? The dream you had the night you were released from the hospital?”

I stopped walking. Of course I remembered it. The question was, how did he? He must have heard what I was thinking because his smile was almost apologetic.

“Please promise me you won’t go running down the beach away from me once you hear what I have to say.”

“It’s really that bad?”

He tilted his head. “Remember in your dream when I told you that you weren’t imagining me? That I was real?”

I stared at him, unable to follow the words.

He bit his bottom lip, holding my gaze. “It was real, Lay. That place. Me. You. You weren’t dreaming, or imagining, or having any ‘vision’.”

What?

“Do you know anything about the Celtic Gods?”