Pretty Crooked (7 page)

“Maybe she is.”

“I doubt it. I can’t picture someone like you having a prissy mom.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was it a compliment or an insult? How exactly did he define “someone like me”? I was afraid to look at him in case the answer was on his face.

“You know, tough chicks. Chicks with attitude. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I bet your mom is one of those cool young single moms. Am I right?”

Of course he was right, but I didn’t have to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. “Not at all,” I muttered, though my anger was softening. How’d this guy know so much? Was he an armchair clairvoyant, too? “Make a right here.”

Aidan braked suddenly and veered onto my street, so quickly I could hear gravel hitting the wheels. He’d almost swerved into a neighbor’s agave plant. I yelped.

He pulled the car into the driveway next to my mom’s.

“Next time give me a little more warning,” he said.

I went eye to eye with him. “Next time don’t mess with my mom.”

“Next time don’t make it so easy for me, and I won’t.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t know if there’s
gonna be a next time,” I said. “Your driving scares the daylights out of me.”

“We’ll have to work on that.” Then he flashed me another grin.

I leapt out of the front seat and went to pull open the trunk to retrieve my bike. In my mind I had the ending to the scene planned out—I would play it cool, haul out my bike, shut the door, and dash off toward my house, not looking back at him for one second. Let him wonder.

But the perfectly scripted drama in my head had to make way for reality because the stupid trunk was locked. And Aidan was fumbling around inside, looking for the driver’s-side button. Which he couldn’t find. Because it wasn’t his car. So I had to wait for him to finally turn off the engine, unbuckle his seat belt, open the door, and mosey around to where I was standing. He handed me the pieces of my bike, still smiling.

“Do you want me to fix that flat for you? I could probably just take it back to the shop and replace the tire,” he asked.

“No, I can patch it myself.” I held the bike against my body like a shield. I was all out of sorts now—nervous and confused—and I wanted him to leave before I did something embarrassing.

“Okay, Colorado, I get the message. You’re on a DIY kick,” he said, holding up his now-empty hands in defense as he walked in reverse back to the driver’s side. “You’ll let me know when you need my assistance.”

“Will do,” I said, nodding. My lips were pressed together in what I hoped was a sardonic expression but they were just barely holding my face together. Underneath I was a jumble of jelly. How did that happen?

“You’re welcome for the ride,” he called out the window.

He sped out of the driveway, the music and his tires squealing in unison—leaving me in front of my new house, watching him go and wondering what he was thinking. Was this all in a day’s work for Aidan? Did he go around rescuing girls on bikes all the time? Why was I so flustered?

And why am I still standing out here
? I thought. Not only had Aidan left me with a bike in pieces. Somehow, the guy had managed to sneak away with my cool.

CHAPTER SIX

I BURST THROUGH the front door, ready to tell my mom everything. But once inside, I could hear her voice, obviously talking on the phone. I followed the trail across stacks of broken-down cardboard boxes to the kitchen, where she was bent over the counter, dressed in jeans and a flowy white blouse, speaking into her mobile phone in a low tone and writing something on a piece of paper.

“Are you sure? Okay… Yes, I’ve got it…” She looked at me quickly and then back to the pad of paper. “Yes, thanks for the information. Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

She hung up in a hurry and ran a hand through her hair, frowning—not her usual expression when greeting me. And, I noticed, there were no cookies, no smoothie, no snacks to speak of. She must have been busy in the studio zone.

“Who was that?” I asked.

She folded up the paper into eighths and put it into her pocket. “Oh, just an organization, a local group I was hoping to volunteer with. They give art lessons to poor kids.”

“That sounds cool,” I said. She had always used her free time to volunteer, wherever we were living. She believed in giving back—that was a big thing she was always going on about, how important it was to participate in the community. “Are you gonna do it?”

“Maybe. Probably. I need to think about it.” She straightened herself up and slipped her phone into her pocket. She inhaled, then exhaled a long slow stream of air. “Sorry I don’t have any snacks prepared. It’s been a busy day. I meant to go to the market but just never got there. I haven’t eaten anything myself, now that I think about it. How was school?”

“School was good. Classes are good,” I said, swinging my bag over a kitchen chair. I opened the refrigerator, scrounging for something to drink, but we were all out of juice. She handed me a glass and I poured myself some water from the refrigerator door. I flopped down at the table and sighed happily. “It’s all pretty much … great, actually.”

I was as surprised as anyone. Usually my mom had to give me a few pep talks in the beginning of a school year. Reminding me how I’d adapted to Searchlight and Corvallis and Eastsound and Sandpoint just fine. Only now it seemed like she was only half listening as she stared in
my direction—or was she looking behind me?

“Great…” she echoed. “So who was the guy in the car? Someone from school, right? I hope you weren’t just riding with a stranger.”

I turned behind me to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing. “Yeah, no. It was just this kid Aidan.”

Just this kid
. Um, yeah. He was much more than that in my brain already, but once I said it out loud that would make it a thing, a thing I was going to have to get all freaky and obsessive about. No, playing it down was a better idea.

“Is that the guy you were talking about the other day? I believe your word was ‘intense.’”

I nodded, picturing him leaning out of his car in the parking lot, picturing him expertly handling my bike. My breath caught in my throat a little.
Okay, Willa
.
Calm down
. “He’s kind of the poster child for arrogant, sexy sons of CEOs.”

I told her the story. But by then, a few minutes had gone by and whatever outrage I’d had about my bike, the phone, his cockiness, had dissolved somewhat, so it was not as convincing as I hoped it might be. In fact, it all sounded a little silly, especially because I was smiling the whole time and feeling like I was going to burst.

My mom was standing there with her arms folded, watching me but not smiling at all. “Well, he sounds like a flirt. Just be careful.”

This wasn’t exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Laughter, yes. Sympathy, maybe. I wrapped my fingers around my glass. “That’s his reputation, yeah.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

She almost looked like she was scolding me. But for what? This was strange. She’d never been that overprotective in the past. She’d always encouraged me to go out and make friends. And this town seemed as safe and crime-free as they came. Then again, maybe the whole guy thing just made her uncomfortable.

“I don’t even like this guy, so there’s nothing for you to worry about. I just thought it was funny.” I picked up my glass and put it in the sink. “Should I go see what’s on pay-per-view later?”

“No, don’t bother. I actually have to be somewhere tonight.” Her eyes darted around the room as if she was looking for a cue card to read from. “There’s a meeting for the natural foods co-op. I was thinking about joining.”

“But it’s movie night,” I said with plummeting disappointment. This was the first time she’d ever canceled on our weekly tradition. It was like a sacred thing for us. “I guess I can watch by myself.”

“Or we could do it tomorrow,” she offered.

“There’s a party tomorrow night. I’m supposed to go with this girl Cherise. My new friend.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“No, she said she could pick me up. She invited me
to stay over after, too. She’s actually really cool. I think you’d like her—”

“That’s good,” she said vaguely. She looked at her phone again, and then her watch. What was up with her? I would’ve thought she’d be jumping for joy that I was going to a party, that I’d made friends, but she was acting like an angsty teenager: distracted, moody, and downright weird. Was there some sort of spontaneous
Freaky Friday
effect going on? “I should actually go. I’m running late.”

She grabbed her purse from the counter and moved past me toward the door.

I watched it close behind her, and then sat back down in the silent kitchen, feeling all of my excitement about the day fizzle in the sudden stillness.

“Well, have fun, then,” I said, my words reverberating through the house.

Kellie’s house sat at the top of a winding road on its very own foothill of a mountain, the sky stretched overhead like a shiny violet awning. It was enormous, a low and sprawling neo-medieval-style chateau with stone-faced wings hugging a front courtyard. Tufts of succulents and cacti were planted strategically to make it look natural, like the whole mansion had just sprung up here organically, security gates and all. Cars were lined up the entire length of the driveway, from the porte cochere down to the front call box at the street entrance and across the
bridge that spanned the small valley between them.

“This is where she lives? Are you kidding me?” I said, my jaw dropping as I surveyed the majesty of chez Kellie.

“I know, right?” Cherise said as she parked her Jetta, smoothed her eyebrows, and straightened her emerald-green tank top. “It’s sick. Her dad has his own fund.”

I gave her the eye. “Do you know what
everyone
’s dad does?”

She shrugged. “It’s just common knowledge.”

I was teasing but I was also preparing for the moment when the subject of my own dad—or lack thereof—came up. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk about it, but it was a complicated situation to explain. Both of Cherise’s parents were heart surgeons, I’d recently learned. Married forever. She had a brother who was a freshman at Cornell. They all got along. She had a totally normal setup, in a privileged, Paradise Valley kind of way.

We walked out into the mellowed heat of the evening, Cherise leading us to the arched front door. I was still trying to pick my mandible off the ground. Inside the cool tiled foyer with mosaic flooring and marble columns we were greeted by a five-tiered iron chandelier that hung from the thirty-foot vaulted ceiling, so massive it made me feel like I was in a church. That is, until I saw the empty red plastic cups strewn on the antique front table, and heard the blast of a Killers cover ringing through the house.

The peals of electric guitar were like a siren song. We went in search of the music, which was coming from a five-piece band set up in the living room. Cherise turned back to smile at me as we were sucked into the pulsing crowd that was jumping up and down in place and screaming along with the lead singer.

“Are all these kids from Prep?” I asked Cherise, astonished. I didn’t recognize most of them.

“Nah. Some are from other schools, mainly from the league—Perkins Day, Willard Academy. I think she also invited a few guys from UA. Kellie pretty much knows everyone. She’s, like, infamous.”

“You mean famous,” I said.

“No. I mean infamous. You’ll see.”

I looked over to see if Cherise was being sarcastic, but her face was totally serious. I was immediately intrigued. Kellie was gorgeous and lived in a freaking castle
and
she was a local legend? Her star quality was glowing brighter by the second.

We went through the kitchen, which made our fancy new place on Morning Glory look like a child’s play set. My head bounced around on my neck like a bobblehead doll’s. A gigantic marble island commanded the room, surrounded by restaurant-sized appliances and a media center with a giant flat screen showing football. A few guys were huddled around watching. On the pure white countertops were bowls of every snack I could think of, plus a bunch of stuff I wouldn’t have expected to see at a
high-school party, like a cheese platter and raw oysters. A floor-to-ceiling refrigerator was stocked with wine bottles. On the other side of the room was a giant hearth fireplace, the old-fashioned kind people used to cook on. It was big enough to roast a human.

For all I knew, human-roasting was on the agenda. If anybody could make it into a trendy drinking game, Kellie could.

Cherise led me through the French doors onto the back patio. From there, a covered walkway led to a lit-up pool with waterfalls, a built-in bar, a little island with palm trees, and a connecting hot tub. Beyond that were tennis courts, a fenced-off area with grazing horses and stables, and a glowing glassed-in building that looked like an art gallery but was filled with cars. A laser light show projected onto the sky and flared in bright colors.

“People. Actually. Live. Here?” I asked.

“And she’s an only child,” Cherise said. “There’s like twelve bedrooms for three people.”

“Can we go in the hot tub?” I bounced on my tiptoes like a little kid.

“Of course,” Cherise said. “There’s some bathing suits in the cabana, if you didn’t bring one. Kellie always buys a few extra ones for guests.”

“Hey, guys,” Kellie said, rushing over to us. She was wearing a sequined minidress and stiletto heels and carrying something in a martini glass that was dribbling over the edges. She kissed us each on the cheek.

“Oh my God, Kellie, your house is out-of-control amazing,” I gushed.

“Thanks,” she said, waving a hand like it was nothing, the glamorama vibes bouncing off her like the light on her glittery frock.

Standing next to her, I felt noticeably underdressed. I was wearing a new pair of jeans I’d scored at the mall and a repurposed sundress that I’d sewn and belted into a tunic. Cherise had assured me that it was fine, but now, as Kellie was eyeing me, I wondered.