Catalyst (The Best Days #1) (13 page)

When
he saw the look on her face, Carson immediately stopped protesting and climbed to his feet, leaving the nearly-full bucket of popcorn on the seat next to his.  “I’ll drive you back,” he said, pulling his car keys out of his pocket.  “I’m supposed to be at football practice this afternoon anyway.”

And just like that, their date – or whatever it was – came to an abrupt halt.

Although he was perfectly cordial on the drive back to school,
Rory figured she had ruined any chance she might have had with Carson.  A guy like him, who had everything going for him, had options.  Carson probably knew that.  If Rory didn’t swoon at his feet then he could easily find another girl who would. 

And Rory certainly hadn’t swooned at his feet.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t too upset that she’d blown things with the first guy she’d really, really liked.  In fact, Rory felt a strange sense of satisfaction, as though she’d gotten exactly what she deserved.  She briefly wondered if subconsciously she’d sabotaged herself on purpose.  Oh well.  It didn’t matter.  What was done was done.

It just so happened that Rory and Carson arrived back at the high schoo
l moments after the lunch hour had started.  As he walked off in the direction of the football field leaving Rory there standing by herself, she considered spending the lunch hour hiding in the bathroom.  Then she remembered the time she’d run into Grace in there and quickly nixed the idea.

The fewer memories she had to confront, the better.

Reluctantly, Rory made her way to the cafeteria.  The usual crowd was there at the cheerleaders’ table already, carrot sticks and diet sodas all laid out and proudly in display.  Rory suspected the whole point of their starvation diet was to brag about how much willpower they had and shame anyone who dared to eat a real meal.

As Rory hesitantly approached the table, she braced herself for what she’d come to think of as the inevitable.  She hadn’t heard from that clique since the night of the party.  It seemed strange; after all, Sheck had
practically worn out the phone and then shown up at the house to make sure Rory was okay.  Even Carson had called to check on her multiple times. 

Rory had seen
Hilary at the funeral from across the room, but that had been it.  Some best friend she’d turned out to be.

She fully expected the gossipy girls to demand to know the particulars of what Rory had seen that night.  She presumed they’d gone into the bedroom at some point after she’d run past them and into the night.  But up
until the point that some inebriated girl had walked in, seen Rory trying to cut Grace down and let out an ear-splitting scream, it had just been Rory alone in there with the body.

It had only been a few brief moments, but in some ways it had felt like an eternity.  Rory flashed back to it a million times a day, going through it in her mind over and over until it threatened to drive her insane.  She hadn’t talked about it with anyone yet…not in detail, anyway.  She wasn’t sure she was ready for that now.  Maybe she never would be.

But Rory knew she’d have to face her friends someday.

In a way, maybe it would be cathartic to talk.  She didn’t want to dwell on the
details of that horrible night.  But she did want to talk about Grace.  Rory had always assumed funerals were supposed to bring closure but Grace’s hadn’t felt that way.  Instead, it had just caused her open wounds to fester.

Taking a deep breath, Rory sat down in the empty chair at the end of the table.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Monica replied
in between small, frequent sips of diet soda.  She paused mid-sip, let out a loud belch and then blushed, looking around sheepishly to see if anyone had noticed. 

“Gross!”
Hilary teased, playfully tossing a carrot stick at Monica.  “You sound like you’ve been hanging around with Jeremy or something!”

Rory looked around and saw the big dumb jock lumbering through the cafeteria with a tray piled high with food in his hand.  He wore his letterman jacket and an idiotic grin on his face.  She scowled as she remembered how disrespectful he’d been to Grace the night of the party.  She wondered if he even felt bad about it.
  Hell, considering how drunk he’d been it would be a miracle if he even
remembered
it.

She looked at her friends questioningly.  They were acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary and it was throwing Rory for a loop.  She waited patiently for them to
ask how she was, say Grace’s name, mention the party, the funeral, the memorial…anything! 

But none of that happened.  Instead, the girls talked about
Hilary’s new shoes and Monica’s latest hookup.  Rory couldn’t take part in the conversation.  In fact, she barely even heard it.  Instead, she stared at the other girls in disbelief, utterly stunned by the way they were conducting themselves.

Had she stumbled into
an alternate universe? 

Abruptly, Rory stood up.  She pushed her chair back from the table with such force that it toppled and fell over. 
The crash it made was deafening.  The girls stopped talking and stared at her, waiting for her to say something.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

What was there to say?

Instead, Rory grabbed her bag, turned on her heel and stalked out of the cafeteria without a word.

She walked aimlessly through the school and eventually ended up at the front entrance by the memorial.  She stood near the wall, hands shoved into her pockets, and watched. 

A group of four guys were kicking around a footbag mere feet from the display of cards, candles, stuffed animals and flowers.  Further down the hall, a couple of girls were whispering and giggling over by the lockers.  Everybody who passed seemed to be completely, blissfully oblivious to the stark reminder of Grace’s suicide.

“Assholes,” she muttered
, even though she knew they weren’t purposefully being disrespectful.

Suddenly she felt very alone standing there amidst the steady stream of people.  Rory wished Sheck was around but he was probably off getting high somewhere.  Her sister was no doubt on the way to class; Rebecca was always punctual if not early.  Rory couldn’t sit through class.  The thought made her head swim.  Instead, she headed the opposite direction, right out the front doors of the school.

Off in the distance she could see football practice was in session.  The emphasis on high school athletics had always seemed strange to Rory.  Why was it okay for a bunch of jocks to miss afternoon classes just so they could practice for their next big game?  Priorities were such peculiar things.

She wasn’t a sports fan by any stretch of the imagination, but she had no ride home and wasn’t about to walk.  Instead, she wandered over to the bleachers.  They were mostly empty, of course, other than a handful of kids who were out there reading or doing homework in the fresh air during their spares. 

Rory sat at the bottom of the bleachers and looked out at the uniformed guys sprinting across the field.  Of course, she recognized Carson immediately despite the helmet he was wearing; she had his number memorized.  Watching him at games was the only good thing about them, as far as she was concerned.

She sighed deeply as she thought about the chance she’d blown.

The football coach blew a whistle and shouted for everyone to take five.  Helmets came off and bottles of water were distributed.  Then Rory noticed Carson jogging toward her, his helmet tucked under his arm.  Somehow he even managed to look sexy when his hair was damp with sweat and tousled from the helmet. 

“Hi,” he said when he reached her.  He didn’t even sound too winded from all the sprints he’d been doing on the field. 
It was clear that he was in remarkably good shape.  But Rory of course already knew that from all the time she’d spent admiring him from afar.

“Hi,” Rory said, unsure of what to do or say.  “I’m sorry about before,” she blurted out, figuring she may as well lay it all on the table.  “I don’t know why I bailed on the movie like that
…or on you.  It wasn’t anything personal.”

“It’s okay,” Carson shrugged.  “Maybe a movie wasn’t the best idea, I don’t know. 
I just wanted to spend time with you and figured maybe you could use a distraction after, well, you know.” 

He looked uncertain as to whether he should say the words.  She didn’t mind.  At least he wasn’t trying to gloss things over and pretend nothing had happened.
  It was more than she could say for the rest of her clique.

Carson ran his hand through his hair and shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable but nonetheless standing his ground.  He’d waded into the trenches, where many of Rory’s so-called friends refused to go. 
He couldn’t possibly know what sorts of horrors would await him there but he’d nonetheless ventured into the trenches because that’s where Rory was. 

Maybe he was trying to save her.

Maybe he just wanted to keep her company.

Regardless of the reason and notwithstanding the clumsy execution, Rory appreciated the gesture.  Carson couldn’t have possibly known because
she
hadn’t even realized it until that very moment, but it was exactly what she needed.

Rory felt like she was seeing Carson in a different light for the first time ever.  She’d always put him up on a pedestal, likely becau
se of her intense crush and secret fear that she wasn’t good enough for him.  But now she was seeing that Carson wasn’t some perfect, godlike being who had everything under control and always knew the right thing to say and do.  Sometimes he floundered, just like she did.  It made him seem more human…more relatable.  She liked it.

She smiled at him, even as tears were welling up in her eyes.

The concern on his face was evident.  His eyes were filled with emotion.  He moved forward as though he wanted to take her in his arms and then seemed to think better of it, shifting his weight to his other foot instead. 

She dropped her head, her long blonde hair shrouding her face. 

Carson crouched down in front of the bleachers and looked up at her.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked softly.  “I can take you home or…wherever.”

She swiped at her eyes.  “I’m okay,” she assured him even as the tears just kept coming.  She cleared her throat and tried to keep her tone light.  “Ignore the tears – they’ve just sort of been…happening sometimes,” she explained with exasperation, making it clear that she was utterly fed up with them.

Rory fully expected Carson to be put off
by her tears.  He thought he’d bail the second he saw her uncomfortable display of emotion, much like she’d bailed on Grace that day in the school bathroom.  But he didn’t.  He didn’t even flinch.

“It’s a good thing,” he assured her.  “I know it’s probably annoying as hell for you, but crying is better than bottling it all up.
  Let it out.  There’s no shame in it.” 

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” she confessed and then raised her eyes to meet his.  “How do
you –?”

He reached out and tenderly brushed a lock of hair, dampened by her tears, from her face.  “You’re even pretty when you cry,” he marvelled.  He didn’t say it in a Let’s Hit on the Emotionally Vulnerable Girl way.  He simply stated a fact.  And in that moment there was such earnestness in his voice that Rory couldn’t help but believe him.

She glanced past him at the field and noted that all the football players were regrouping.  “You’d better get back out there,” she told him.  “I think they’re ready to start back up again.”

“Alright,” he said, looking reluctant to leave. 
He took a step toward the field and then stopped, turning back around to face Rory.  “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked as though he’d rather deal with a sniveling wreck of a girl than be at football practice with his buddies.

“Yeah…
well, no,” she admitted as she struggled valiantly to regain her composure.  “But I will be,” she added so confidently that it almost sounded convincing.  Even as Rory spoke the words, she hoped there was some truth to them.

“Do you want to hang out after practice?” Carson asked.

“I’d love to,” Rory said without a trace of the usual shame she’d feel at mentioning she was related to bookish, nerdy Rebecca, “but I’m supposed to meet my sister.  Another time…?”

“
Any
time,” he corrected her.  “Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

The Rory of two and a half weeks ago would have blown her sister off without a second thought.  But since Grace’s death, Rory had been thinking a lot about the things that mattered in life. 

The Rory from Before would have prioritized sup
erficial, meaningless things.  She didn’t think she was a shallow person but sometimes, she admitted, she was prone to acting like one.

Confronting death head on had made Rory re-evaluate everything.  One sleepless night when she’d been lying awake, she’d started to think about what she’d regret the most if she were to die young.  One of the things that had nagged at her was her badly deteriorated relationship – or lack thereof – with her sister. 

Rebecca and Rory had always been so close.  Now it felt like they were separated by galaxies.  Rory knew that things wouldn’t change overnight.  In fact, she wasn’t sure whether they’d ever return to how they used to be.  But she at least had to try.

At some point the bell signalling the end of the day rang.  If Rory had heard it, it hadn’t even registered.  She only realized the time when she noticed a parade of yellow school buses driving past, on their way to take kids home.  She’d been sitting on the bleachers for longer than she’d intended.

She got up and, after returning Carson’s wave, hurried into the school.  Inside, the hallways had cleared out and the building was mostly deserted. 

She wondered if Rebecca had grown tired of waiting and had left without her.  Rory wouldn’t blame her.  After all the times Rory had blown Rebecca off – or intentionally ditched her – it was to be expected, really.

But Rebecca hadn’t left.  Rory spotted her chatting with Troy Watson down at the far end of the hallway.  Rory hung back, not wanting to interrupt.  But when Rebecca saw her, she quickly said goodbye to Troy and hurried over.

“Hey,” Rory greeted her, shifting her small bag that was mostly filled with makeup from one shoulder to the other. 

“Hi.  How was today?” Rebecca asked, balancing approximately a million textbooks in her arms.

“It sucked,” Rory replied, as blunt and to-the-point as ever. 

Rebecca nodded.  “Well let’s get going.  I just need to stop at my locker first.”

“Okay.”  Rory reached over and took a few of the books off the top of her sister’s load.  She read the titles and wrinkled her nose at how boring they sounded.  “I think we missed the bus,” Rory said.  “Should I call Sheck and ask him to come get us?”

“If you want,” Rebecca said as they walked down the empty hallway toward her locker.

Surprising them both, Rory said, “It’s a pretty nice day out.  Do you want to walk home?”

She expected her sister to put two and two together and lecture her for cutting class, but instead Rebecca merely looked down at the impractical high heeled ankle high boots Rory was wearing.  “I have a pair of running shoes in my locker you can borrow,” she offered.

“That would be good…thanks.” 

Rory wasn’t one to suggest walking home.  Not only was it lame to not have a car or at the very least a ride, but it also involved unnecessary physical activity.  Rory hated anything that involved wind mussing her hair and the possibility of breaking into a sweat.  She’d much rather look her best at all times, with perfect hair and makeup. 

But walking home with Rebecca would mean they’d get to spend some time together.  They could talk…or not talk.  Rory was beginning to realize how absurd it was to miss her sister when they lived under the same roof.  So what if somewhere along the way they’d become strangers?  That just meant they needed to become reacquainted.

“Do you remember when we were younger and we’d rush home from school to watch trashy talk shows before Mom and Dad got home from work?” Rebecca asked suddenly.  It made Rory wonder if maybe Rebecca was also missing old times.

Rory raised an eyebrow.  “I thought
I
was the one who rushed home to watch what you called TV Filth.  You’d always sit on the couch beside me with your nose in a book and pretend you were too classy to watch.”

Rebecca smiled sheepishly.  “Pretend is the key word there.  I didn’t want to admit I liked that stuff but I’d always listen and sneak peeks at the screen when things got really heated.  You know, like when someone threw a chair or something.”

“Ha!” Rory cawed triumphantly.  “I knew it!  Remember how Mom would always get home right in the middle of the show and I’d have to turn the volume way down so she didn’t overhear?  And if she came into the room I’d change the channel to that dumb educational program with the talking encyclopedia?”  She snorted.  “I can’t believe Mom seriously believed we’d watch that lame show.”

“The talking encyclopedia show wasn’t
that
bad.”

“You would say that,” Rory retorted with a roll of her eyes. 

They stopped at Rebecca’s locker and she piled the remainder of her books into Rory’s arms so she could enter her combination.  Rebecca pulled out the sneakers she’d promised Rory and set them on the floor.  Then one by one, she started carefully and methodically filing her textbooks away in her locker.

“Oh God, I can’t bear to watch,” Rory complained playfully.  She didn’t understand how she and her sister could be such polar opposites in some ways.  Her own locker was a disaster zone.  Every time she opened it there was a risk of being buried in an avalanche of lip gloss, crumpled up homework assignments and the fashion magazines Rory hid inside her textbooks.  Rebecca, on the other hand, was a neat freak.  It drove Rory nuts.

She set the remainder of her sister’s books on the floor as something down the hall caught her attention.  Rebecca followed Rory’s gaze.  Then she stopped what she was doing and looked at Rory, the expression on her face solemn. 

“I guess one memorial wasn’t enough,” Rory said softly, her eyes glued to the locker down at the end of the hall.  She wouldn’t have even known it was Grace’s had it not been for the gigantic, almost inappropriately large and garish poster hanging there. 

Her eyes never leaving the poster, Rory walked down the hall toward it.  She didn’t want to see it; not really.  Part of her hated every reminder of Grace she saw.  It wasn’t enough that she thought of Grace almost constantly as it was…no, she needed to have visual reminders at every turn as well.  But Rory nonetheless felt pulled toward it.

Rebecca followed, hanging back a little to give Rory her space. 

“They put
glitter
on the poster?” Rory’s distaste was evident.  “Are you kidding me?”

The poster was covered in handwritten notes or, when words had failed, simply the signatures of various students at the school.  Rory wondered how many of them had ever taken the time to talk to Grace or get to know her in any capacity.  Even worse, she wondered how many of them had been at the party that night, carelessly trashing the house and blatantly disrespecting the quiet, meek mannered girl who didn’t quite fit in.

The worst part was that had Rory not been the one who found Grace’s body, she might be doing the same thing as the other cheerleaders right now.  The thought made her stomach feel sick.

The biggest note that took up the most space was signed by
Hilary Trudeau. 

Anger boiled up in Rory.  “Can you believe this?” she asked, gesturing to the large, fancy signature with three swirly lines beneath it.  “Everyone acted so strangely today at lunch,” she confided, still puzzled by the strange encounter.  “No one would talk about Grace or what happened.  They just pretended she’d never even existed and it was meaningless high school business as usual.  Isn’t that weird?”

“Kind of,” Rebecca agreed.  “Maybe they just didn’t know what to say.  Everyone deals with stuff differently, you know?”  Rory knew Rebecca couldn’t stand those girls and was probably just trying to defend them for Rory’s sake.

“Yeah, but…you should have been there,” Rory insisted.  “If you’d seen it for yourself you’d know how bizarre it was.  And then they go around making banners and setting candles and cards out at the memorial by the front entrance.  I’m not trying to be mean but it just seems so hypocritical, you know?”

“It does,” Rebecca conceded. 

Then the sound of yelling just beyond the side entrance to the school caused them both to stop and peer out the window. 

Jeremy was out there and he had Troy pushed up against the side of the building.  He was shouting something about “pulferizing” Troy’s face if Troy didn’t give Jeremy his shoes.  Troy’s face was deathly white and he quickly pulled off his shoes to avoid being beaten up. 

Jeremy promptly threw the shoes onto the roof of the school, guffawing gleefully as he did.  Rory supposed the saying was true:  small things really did amuse small minds.  When Jeremy dumped out Troy’s backpack and jammed it over Troy’s head like a hood, Rory quickly sprang into action.

“I’m going out there,” she said decidedly.  Then she glanced at her sister, who was holding her cell phone.  “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Recording it,” Rebecca replied, the expression on her face grim.  “This way we’ll have evidence…something to show the principal…and the cops.”  She looked up at Rory with fear in her eyes.  “Jeremy won’t hit you or anything, will he?”

Rory shrugged.  “Probably not…I guess we’ll find out.  Stay here.”  With that, she squared her shoulders and stormed out of the school to confront the bully. 

Her demeanor was one of anger and disgust.  Rory’s pretty face was set in a scowl and her fists were clenched tightly at her sides.  To a bystander, she would probably appear in control and completely confident.  But inside, she was petrified. 

To confront someone of Jeremy’s social standing – not to mention his size – was a frightening prospect.  She knew he could make her life a living hell if he so chose.

It seemed unlikely that Jeremy would hit Rory, although that was a very real possibility.  Being struck would almost be preferable to the damage he could do to her social life, though.  For a girl like Rory, being popular was everything.  It gave some measure of protection from the fact that she wasn’t a good student, a good athlete or…well, anything else for that matter. 

When she’d stormed off at lunchtime, she probably hadn’t completely burned her bridges with the cheerleaders.  Those relationships were still salvageable.  But if Rory confronted Jeremy, she was fairly confident the entire clique would turn on her.  It made no sense but then very little about high school did.

Being popular was the one thing that kept Rory from being unremarkable.  Jeremy could easily take that away from her.  She’d seen the way he’d turned others into social outcasts, practically dictating whether others should like or scorn them.  As she charged toward him looking every part the bit of the brave hero, Rory knew her entire high school experience and reputation were on the line.

But all she could focus on was the look of terror on Troy’s face as Jeremy towered over him menacingly, threatening to break his glasses and his face.  Was that how Grace had felt at the end, scared and isolated?  The thought broke Rory’s heart.

“Hey!” she screamed at Jeremy, venom in her voice.  “Jeremy!”

He turned around.

In retrospect, that very instant would
be a catalyst in Rory’s life.