Very Bad Things (Briarcrest Academy) (6 page)

“Tiffany’s a real sweetheart,” Sebastian said with a
sarcastic smirk. “Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hey, she is pretty.”

Nora picked at her fingernails and shrugged. “Pretty’s good.
Smart isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”

“Let me see your fingers,” Sebastian said, reaching out and
taking her hand.

“Why?” she asked, letting him take it.

“The BA brochure said you’d taken piano for years. I can
tell. You’ve got the calluses to prove it. So maybe you could play for us
sometime?” he said.

She shrugged.

“Sebastian, can you start clearing the table, please?” I
said, giving him a hard look as he still held her hand. The same one I’d held
last night.

“In a minute, bro,” he dismissed me, not looking away from
Nora. Speaking to her, he said, “Our family has always been into music . . .”
He paused. “Our parents are dead.”

Nora nodded. “Yeah, Leo told me.”

Sebastian straightened up like he’d been poked in the ribs
and looked at me in surprise. He dropped her hand. “You told her about mom and
dad?”

I nodded.

He looked quizzically from me to Nora. “Really?” he asked me
again, like I was lying.

I clenched my teeth together. “Yes.”

He trained his eyes on me then Nora, scrutinizing us,
jumping from one to the other, seeming to be deep in thought. Finally, he
nodded as if he’d just figured something out. He laughed a little to himself,
like he knew a joke we didn’t.

He continued, “Anyway. So instead of sending me off to live
with some distant cousins when they died, he gave up his band and college so he
could be a full-time dad.”

“I bet he was a great one,” Nora said.

Sebastian snorted as he stood to clean up. “Don’t let him
fool you, Nora. He packs a mean wallop to the head when you least expect it. I
only keep him around ’cause he can cook.”

And immediately, I felt my jealousy of Sebastian ebb away.
He was the only real family I had left. I loved him. Hard. And I had no right
to be mad at him for flirting with Nora.

I hugged him and rubbed his head playfully with my knuckles.
He was long overdue with all the lip flapping he’d been doing this morning.

“See how he is?” Sebastian said, grinning as he pulled away
from me, trying to smooth down his styled hair.

The buzzer pealed from downstairs. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Door bell. Looks like it’s payback time, Nora,” I said.

Her face turned white and her fork clattered down on the
table. “Shit. Parents?”

“No, it’s friends of ours, and I want you to come downstairs
and meet them,” I said.

She nodded, her face still pale.

I stood there for a moment, wanting to tell her it would be
okay. That I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. But I walked out the door and didn’t
look back, leaving her there with Sebastian.

“Behind
every beautiful thing is a world of pain.”

–Nora
Blakely

AFTER LEO DISAPPEARED from sight, I
sped out of the kitchen and went to the bathroom, grabbing my phone and
backpack on the way. My mouth dried, thinking about who could be waiting for
me. If it wasn’t family, then who could it be? What if he’d changed his mind
and called the police?

Whatever was waiting for me, I could handle it. I simply
needed to do the things on my list: get drunk, get high, and get laid. Get
relief. End of story.

My phone buzzed. I opened it and saw Mila had texted me five
times during the night and early this morning.

--What happened last night! You never texted me!

--Where are you, chica? You better be in your car!
Asleep!

--Hello?? Okay, are you alive?? Don’t drive drunk, or I
will be MAD!!

--Now I’m scared! Call me!

--Crappola, are you in jail! I better be your one phone
call!

My stomach lurched when I saw Finn had called me several
times as well, and the thought of listening to his nasally voice made me feel
nauseated. I hated how weak he made me feel, even though he lived four hours
away. I deleted all six voicemails he’d left with a shaking hand. He hadn’t
tried to call or text me in months, and I suspected him moving back home had
him trying to reach out. He’d hated living there as much as I do now, so he had
to be desperate if he planned on coming back to Highland Park.

I washed my face and then redid my ponytail, easing around
the yellowish bruise on the side of my face. I grabbed some toothpaste and
cleaned my teeth with my finger.

Someone knocked on the door. “Hey, we’ll be in the big room
past the yoga area. It’s downstairs,” Sebastian called out.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

Thinking I should get this day started the right way, I took
out the flask and gulped down a big swig of vodka, coughing at the bitterness.
I took another swallow, watching myself in the mirror, staring at the strange
girl who’d gotten drunk last night. I didn’t know her, but I liked her a lot
better than numb Nora. Yeah, this girl was real. She wouldn’t do everything
Mother said. She wouldn’t break down behind closed doors, dreaming of knives,
blood, and secrets. This girl could handle whatever shit came her way.

To make sure I was ready, I searched around the bathroom for
a word to roll around, yet there was nothing that caught my attention except
nail clippers, dental floss, and, of course, the toilet. Damn it. I closed my
eyes, riffled through my cerebral dictionary and got what I needed.

“
Hydraulic
,” I said aloud. “A noun derived from Greek
and Latin, referring to a system, such as the mechanism operated by the
pressure transmitted when a liquid is forced through a small opening or tube.
Such as a toilet,” I said, nodding at myself in the mirror for a job well done.
I flushed it for good measure, watching the water swirl around.

There, I felt better.

Nope, not loony at all.

I walked out of the bathroom and halted. Sebastian was
standing there, his head cocked as he looked at me.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked.

I didn’t answer.

He arched his brow at me. “It sounded a lot like you were saying
all this technical shit about the crapper.”

I burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to make a joke, but it’s a pretty good
one, huh?” he said with a chuckle.

I nodded and smiled widely, not able to resist his easy
manner.

He held up a hand. “Wait a minute; you weren’t actually
talking
to
the crapper, were you?”

“No,” I said. “I was defining a word, repeating its
definition, parts of speech and etymology. The usual.”

His eyes widened. “A word?”

“Yeah, I got a thing for words. You know how some people
collect sea shells? I collect words. I think about them all the time. They make
me feel better when I’m jittery. I can’t get through the day without them.
Well, I guess I
could
, but it wouldn’t be fun.” Understatement of the
year.

“My mom collected porcelain figures,” he murmured, nodding
like it was everyday you heard some girl admit she was neurotic.

Looking at Sebastian, I couldn’t help but see the
differences in his and Leo’s appearance now. The opal-blue eyes were the same,
but Sebastian’s blond hair was gelled in a buzz cut while Leo’s was longer and
sexier. Enough to run my hands through and hold on tight while he pounded away.

I pushed Leo out of my head and checked out Sebastian,
standing there in his skinny jeans and retro Beatles shirt. With expensive
Italian loafers. This guy was so LA.

He wagged his finger at me. “I knew you’d like me. I’m hard
to resist,” he grinned.

I shook my head at his arrogance.

“So, do you have a lot of words in your head?”

“How many do you think is a lot?” I said.

“My mom had like a hundred of those porcelain things,
sitting around everywhere.”

“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say I repeat different words
in my head about five times a day. So that’s about thirty-five new words a
week.”

“Damn,” he whispered out.

“Yeah, it’s what Mother calls a serious problem.”

My phone rang, and I saw it was the black bunny.

“Hey, can you give me a few minutes?” I said, nodding at the
phone. “It’s my best friend, and I need to talk to her about what happened to
me last night. She tends to worry.”

“Sure, come on down when you’re done,” he said, walking
away.

And so, after I’d assured Mila I hadn’t been arrested or
kidnapped by two lunatics, I made my way downstairs, ready to face Leo and his
brand of justice.

I heard music, and I followed it to a big room at the end of
the hall. The first sound I heard when I walked in the room was the rhythm of a
slow piano melody and then a smooth drum beat that echoed behind the piano’s
tempo. It sounded less stylized but a lot like one of my favorite indie bands,
and I was proven correct when Sebastian started singing the opening bars to “Transatlanticism,”
a song about two lovers who’d lost each other. The intense, driven sound
captured me, and I lost myself in the music, letting my head bob to the beat.
It’s true I spent the last several years studying classical piano, but this was
the kind of music I loved and Mother hated.

While Sebastian crooned in a sexy voice, Leo was the one who
drew my eyes as he played guitar. He might not be the front man for the band,
but it was obvious he had talent the way his fingers flew across his guitar,
grinding out the gritty sound. And he was delicious. My eyes ate him up, taking
in the low slung jeans and tank. He’d hardly even looked at me during
breakfast, so when his blue eyes met mine and held, my body got heavy and warm.
The same excitement I’d felt for him last night came barreling back. Sure, he
was older and possibly dangerous to my heart, but I didn’t care anymore about
doing the right things.

On drums was a teen Latino girl with dreads, her head
bouncing up and down as she sang backup. The piano player was a young guy,
maybe in his early twenties, whose body rocked back and forth in a weird motion
as he played. I paused, noticing he had a 35mm camera around his neck. What
kind of musician carries around a camera while he plays?

I sat down in a chair to listen, enjoying the piano once
again becoming the predominate instrument at the end. As the piano guy stroked
the keys, the music took me away to a place where I fooled myself into
believing I was happy. After the song was over, I let out a satisfied sigh. I
loved their sound.

Leo sat his guitar down and walked over to me. “Come on and
meet the band,” he said, surprising me by taking my arm and leading me to the
young drummer. “This is Mary Beth, but she only answers to Vixen. She may be
young, but she’s one of the best drummers in the Dallas area.”

Vixen blushed prettily.

“You were great,” I told her.
And stunning
, I thought
to myself, now that I was closer and could see her perfectly smooth caramel
skin and oval face that was shiny with sweat from working the drums. She looked
to be sixteen or seventeen.

“Where did you learn to play?” I asked.

“Parents taught me,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “What
do you play?”

“Piano since the age of ten, and I sing in the shower, too,”
I joked, feeling shy and unsure. These guys were talented, and I wasn’t
anything special at all.

“Oh? Well, Teddy here’s a great piano player. I guess that’s
why Leo said we needed you,” she said, smirking at me. I wrinkled my brow. What
did she mean?

“And this is Teddy,” Leo said, interrupting my confusion at
Vixen’s statement and guiding me to stand next to the baby grand where the
young man sat. He had curly brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed,
and his plaid shirt was buttoned up wrong. My fingers itched to fix him.

“He doesn’t read music, but plays by ear. But what’s cool is
once he hears a song, he can play it back,” Leo said looking at Teddy. I
detected pride in his voice.

“You’re a fortunate person,” I said to Teddy. “And great
song choice. Death Cab for Cutie is a favorite band of mine.”

Teddy rocked back and forth on his seat, his head tilted
awkwardly.

I glanced back at Leo, uncertain how to take Teddy’s unusual
demeanor. Maybe he was super bashful?

“Say thank you to Nora,” Leo told Teddy matter-of-factly,
like he’d said those words before. “She’s the one who’s going to teach you new
songs.”

I managed to sputter out, “P-Pfftttt, yeah.”
What did he
mean?

“Thank you, Nora,” Teddy piped up loudly in a sing-song
voice, his eyes darting around the room but never connecting with mine.
“Playing piano is fun. Bob Seger’s song ‘Old Time Rock and Roll’ is the best.
It’s in the movie
Risky Business
with Tom Cruise where he slides on the floor
in his underwear. What’s your favorite song, Nora?”

“I . . . I’ve been listening to Alicia Keyes’ song, ‘Girl on
Fire’ lately. It’s not her latest release, but I like it,” I said tentatively,
not quite sure what was wrong with Teddy. Something was definitely off.

Leo grinned at Teddy and squeezed his shoulder. “He likes to
talk about music.”

Teddy said, “Nora, Nora! I love music. Do you?”

I nodded, my eyes going from Teddy to Leo, trying to get the
connection because I sensed a kinship between them.

As if he couldn’t sit still, Teddy rubbed his hands up and
down on his jeans, still not meeting my eyes. “That song you said, ‘Girl on
Fire.’ Show me how to play it? Please?” he asked.

Whatever strangeness was up with Teddy, I liked him. I
couldn’t put my finger on it or define it right then, but sometimes you just
know when you’ve met a friend. Something about him reminded me of myself. Maybe
it was the unsure set of his thin shoulders as he waited for me to answer his
question. Maybe it was the fact that I was a little strange, too.

“Yeah, sure thing. I’d love to. We’ll have to buy the sheet
music but that’s not a big deal.” I nodded at his camera. “What’s with the
camera around your neck?”

Teddy looked up and focused his eyes at my forehead. “Can’t
breathe without my camera.”

Ah. There it was. “I know exactly what you mean,” I said.

Leo led me away from the band and over to a long couch where
no one could hear us. “Teddy’s autistic,” he said. “And a musical savant.”

“Oh. Where did you find him?” I said, sneaking a look at
Teddy, wondering what it was like for him to have a label. He was different,
like me. I didn’t have autism, but I definitely wasn’t normal.

“We checked with local music stores and found Vixen. But
Teddy? Kinda stumbled across him at a piano bar downtown that his sister owns.”
He looked back at Teddy with a grin. “The night I saw him play he blew me away,
playing old songs, new songs, pretty much anything the crowd wanted. He never
used one piece of sheet music. So, I ended up staying until the bar closed and
talked to him and his sister. Invited him to be part of our group.”