Always and Forever (2 page)

“He isn’t the only one,” Jory said, pouring a cup of coffee and shooting Melissa a sidelong glance. “You’ve had your nose in a book ever since school started two weeks ago. You haven’t even taken time to do anything fun with me lately.”

“Don’t be selfish, Jory. The PSATs are coming up in October and I’ve got to score big if I’m going to be eligible for a National Merit Scholarship next year.”

“Do you still have your hopes set on Princeton?”

“If it’s good enough for Brooke Shields … ” Jory
giggled. But Melissa added, “Seriously, I don’t want to be stuck at a junior college like Michael. I want to go somewhere new, do something productive and meaningful with my life.”

“Does that mean law?”

“Probably. But I’m keeping an open mind.” She glanced over at Jory. Her auburn bangs hung shaggy over her carefully plucked eyebrows. Her pert, turned-up nose gave her a sassy look brightened by almond-shaped sea-green eyes. Jory appeared to wear a perpetual pout, but her frequent dimpled smiles softened her face. Melissa considered her best friend seriously. She was pretty, rich, and smart to boot. “You could come to Princeton, too, if you concentrated on studying instead of boys and partying.”

“Ugh.” Jory wrinkled her nose. “One genius in this friendship is enough. I’ll be your manager.”

“Lawyers don’t need managers.”

“All right, your social director. Surely you plan to
date
between spurts of studying.”

“There’s really no one I’m interested in.” Melissa felt color creep up her neck, and her conscience nagged,
except Brad Kessing
. Blond. Athletic. Bright. A senior. And absolutely unobtainable. Melissa knew what the most popular kids at Lincoln High thought of her—she was “bookish” and “pretty but intellectual.”

“And why not? Gosh, Melissa, have a little self-confidence. Look at yourself: gorgeous black hair down your back, huge blue eyes, legs that start at your neckline, and brains coming out of your ears. You could have any guy at Lincoln you set your mind on.”

“My mind’s on college, Jory. That’s my number-one priority. Are you watching Michael’s balloon?” Melissa deftly changed the subject.

The sky was streaked with color, melting from indigo
into pale lavender, laced with fingers of pink. Jory rose up on her knees and stretched the upper half of her body out of the window of the cab. “I see him! He’s pretty high up and heading east.” The wind caught her words and flung them back.

“Drat!” Melissa eased over into the traffic, looking for the first road that turned left. “If he’s high up, that means there are power lines. Don’t lose sight of him.” She found a road and turned, caught sight of the balloon in her windshield, and accelerated. A sharp pain shot through her knee and she winced.

“Are you all right?” Jory asked, sliding back into her seat.

“Just my rheumatism acting up,” she joked. “Now tell me why you won’t come to Princeton with me? Your grandfather will send you anywhere you want to go.”

“You said it yourself, Melissa—I’m a party girl. Princeton’s too staid and proper for me. Besides, someone has to stay behind and keep an eye on your brother.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible! Stick with guys our own age.”

“They’re absolute children.”

By now the sun was up and the light through the windshield pierced Melissa’s eyes.

“I think he’s coming down,” Jory said, pointing to the red-and-yellow balloon drifting down toward an empty field.

“Terrific,” Melissa grumbled. “How am I going to get through the barbed wire?”

“There’s a gate.” Jory pointed excitedly.

Melissa drove the truck through the gate and then headed across the vast green pasture, where
Michaels balloon squatted, already deflating and fluttering in the breeze like a sailboat.

“God, that was great!” Michael shouted as the girls climbed out of the truck to help him fold the giant arch of nylon and put it back on the truck. His blue eyes shone and his face was flushed.

“He’s high,” Melissa teased, her words doubled with meaning.

“It’s incredible—high above the earth, seeing the world like a bird does. Man, it’s almost better than—” He caught himself, glancing self-consciously at Jory.

“Better than sex?” Melissa finished drolly, quoting one of his frequently used descriptive phrases. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You better not.” He grinned. “Now let’s get moving and I’ll treat everybody to breakfast.”

Melissa laughed and reached to unlatch the back of the truck. She stared down at an ugly purple bruise on her arm. Now how in the world had she gotten that, she wondered. She ignored it and dropped the tailgate with a bang.

“Don’t break it,” Michael chided. “It’s not much, but it’s paid for.”

“Sorry. I lost my grip.”

They crowded into the cab and Michael headed back across the field toward town. Jory chattered in a stream of quick, witty observations about ballooning and Michael’s passion for it. Melissa dropped her head against the seat and watched the cloudless blue sky shoot past, her eyelids growing heavy. She wished she weren’t so tired. But it was good to be alive. Good to breathe in the fresh, warm September air.

Lulled by the movement of the truck and the
warm sun, Melissa felt content. Her junior year of high school would be her best, and her grades would be her highest. She’d make sure of it. The course of her future depended on it.

“You didn’t have to be so rude to Jory, Michael,” Melissa said testily the minute they walked into the kitchen of their house and Jory had driven off in her convertible.

“Rude? What are you talking about?” Michael lowered himself into a chair, stretched out his long legs, and clasped his hands behind his head. “I thought I was very tolerant under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“She’s a bubblehead.”

Melissa felt her anger rise. “She’s my best friend and has been since the fifth grade.”

“She’s also rich and spoiled. Why does she hang around here anyway? And why does she go to Lincoln High when she could go to any private school in the city?”

Melissa answered his second question first. “She goes to Lincoln because she likes public school. A lot of kids prefer Lincoln to private schools.”
Like Brad Kessing
, she reminded herself. For although he traveled in Jory’s charmed circle of monied elite, he too preferred Lincoln. “And she hangs around here because she has a crummy home life.”

“And ours is perfect?” There was an undertone of bitterness in his question that made Melissa sigh.

She sat across from him at the table and fiddled
with the salt shaker. “I didn’t say it was perfect. Face it, Michael, Dad’s been gone six years and he’s not coming back.
I
think Mom’s done a terrific job of keeping us together, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Mom’s a great lady. But she works too hard.”

“That’s what she says about you.”

A small smile started at the corners of his mouth. “That’s because I’m going to be rich someday, just like Miss Delaney. Then Mom won’t ever have to go downtown to the office again. And she won’t have to worry about paying bills and trying to make ends meet.”

“You know it’s not that bad since she’s gotten her promotion. And besides, you’re missing the point. Jory has money and two parents but she’s not particularly happy, and that’s why she likes to come over here. We may not have much money, but at least we’re a family. I think Jory senses the closeness between us and wants to be a part of it.” Melissa paused, remembering the times over the years that Jory had come home from school with her. She’d stay as late as she could, until Mom had to drive her home to an often dark and empty house in the exclusive neighborhood of mansions where she lived.

“Her parents are always off chasing real estate deals, and Jory’s left alone. Her older brothers and sisters all live in other states, and none of them are close to her anyway. I mean, not like you and I are.”

“She’s not always alone,” Michael said with a twinkle in his eye. “She’s usually over here.”

“Oh you!” Melissa flung the salt shaker at him, exasperated.

“Now don’t tell me you aren’t just a tiny bit envious of her,” Michael said. “I see the way you look at
her car. Wouldn’t you like to have someone hand you the keys to a machine like that, absolutely free?”

“I didn’t say money isn’t important. I said it doesn’t buy happiness.”

Michael leaned across the table and tugged affectionately on her hair. “Ah, the idealism of a sixteen-year-old! What I’d give to have it again.”

Melissa lunged at him and he laughed, catching her wrist. She grimaced as his fingers closed around her bruise. He dropped her arm and eyed the ugly purple mark in surprise. “What’s that? And how did you get it?”

“Just a bruise, and I don’t know.” She was curious about her bruises too, but couldn’t figure out how she got them. “Probably stumbling around in the dark at four
A.M
.,” she said, poking Michael lightly in the arm.

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s a little sore, but it’ll go away.” Unable to divert his look of concern, she teased, “You know how we princesses are. Just a pea under our mattress and we turn black and blue.”

Michael stood and stretched, his physique rippling with muscle. “I think I’m gonna crash for a couple of hours before I go to work. Tell Mom not to count on me for supper. I’m working overtime at the warehouse shelving stock. We get paid double time on Saturdays you know.”

“You don’t
have
to work so hard for your money,” Melissa said, the light of mischief in her eyes.

“How’s that?”

“You could always marry it.”

Michael shook his head in amusement. “And I’ll bet you can fix me up with just the right rich girl.”

“In a few years.” Melissa smiled. “She’s much too young for you now.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Sis.”

“And you’re a hopeless pragmatic.”

“I tell you what, when you get that law degree, I’ll hire you to run my empire.”

She stuck out her tongue, and he bounded out of the kitchen with a laugh.

On Monday, Jory picked Melissa up for school. Melissa decided it wasn’t a bad way to arrive each day—in a sporty white convertible with plush red interior. After Jory’s second tour of the parking lot, Melissa asked, “Is there some reason we’re cruising and not parking?”

“Absolutely. We want to be seen, don’t we? How can we march straight into the building without first making sure that everyone at Lincoln is totally aware of our arrival?” To emphasize her point, Jory waved at a group of students congregated in the lot. Behind them, Lincoln High rose, an ultramodern glass and concrete structure, only two years old and already nearly filled to capacity. Yellow buses unloaded at the far end of the parking lot, and Melissa was glad she didn’t have to be on one.

“When you’re finished cruising, could you please park? I need to get to homeroom early,” Melissa said. “On Friday, Mr. Marshall said he wanted to see me first thing today.”

“Ugh.” Jory wrinkled her nose. “What a way to start the week. Well, it can’t be anything you’ve done wrong—everyone knows Melissa Austin is the model student.”

Jory slowed and honked. Melissa glanced in the
direction her friend waved, and her heart suddenly somersaulted into her throat. Brad Kessing stood next to his bronze Firebird, dressed in khaki slacks and a sky-blue cotton shirt that accentuated his athletic build. The sunlight highlighted his golden blond hair. “Hey, Brad,” Jory called.

Melissa started fidgeting around in her purse for her hairbrush, and her nervousness must have caught Jory’s attention. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I just noticed that I look a mess. My hair’s got a mind of its own today and—”

“Melissa, do you have a thing for Brad?”

“Oh, he’s all right.”

“All right?” Jory mused. “Then how come you’re turning three shades of red?”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

Melissa settled pleading eyes on her friend. “Just keep it to yourself, okay?”

“Why? I can introduce you two. Brad and I go way back. Our parents play doubles at the country club all the time.”

“Just drop it,” Melissa demanded, speaking under her breath, even as Brad sauntered over to Jory’s car and leaned his elbows against the door frame. “Hi, Jory. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Do you know my friend, Melissa Austin?”

Brad’s cool blue eyes took her in, and Melissa’s mouth went dry. The strong lines of his jaw and chin etched themselves into her brain. “Hey, Melissa.”

She managed a nod before Jory blurted, “Are you playing in the club tournament next Saturday?”

“Not this time. The soccer coach wants us to take
it easy so we don’t get injured before practice starts for the season. How about you?”

“Me—tennis?” Jory wrinkled her nose. “That
is
the game with the racket and the little fuzzy ball, isn’t it?”

Brad laughed. “You’re some athlete, Delaney.” His attention turned to Melissa. “Do you know any more about sports than she does?”

“I play racquetball with my brother every now and then, but that’s about as athletic as I get.”