Pure (Book 1, Pure Series) (4 page)

           
A false note in Charisse's voice caught my attention, and I looked at her sharply.
 
Her tone was superficially cheerful, and her smile was as bright was ever, but there was an unusual distance in her eyes.
 
I could tell Charisse's mind was elsewhere.

           
Branden groaned.
 
"The quiz.
 
I forgot all about it.
 
I'd better get going."

           
Reluctantly, he picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

           
Charisse looked up at him in surprise.
 
"Where are you going?"

           
Branden was rueful.
 
"Katie may be able to get by on a quiz any time, but I can't.
 
I haven't even read the play, yet.
 
I'm going to get some reading done – someplace where there are fewer distractions.
 
I can't study while you're around, gorgeous."

           
Charisse stood up to kiss him on the cheek.
 
"Okay.
 
I'll see you in first period."

           
Branden returned the kiss on her forehead and loped away across the yard toward the school.

           
"You guys didn't talk about the quiz this weekend?" I asked.

           
"No," Charisse replied dreamily.
 
"We were talking about other things."

           
"You know," I said, "sometimes you two are horrifyingly cute together."

           
"Some people think you and Simon are pretty cute together, too."

           
I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.
 
"Simon and I are friends.
 
Close friends.
 
But still friends.
 
You know that."

           
"I know he likes you.
 
And I think you like him, too.
 
You just haven't admitted that to yourself, yet, Katie."

           
I felt a strong tug on my heart and an even stronger desire to end this line of conversation.
 
I glanced at Charisse's face.
 
The preoccupation was still there.

           
"Charisse, is something wrong?"

           
Charisse looked down at her hands.
 
"No.
 
And that's the problem."

           
I was instantly alert.
 
"What do you mean?"

           
"It's my parents.
 
They've split up."

           
"What?" I said.
 
My shock was as great as if Charisse had just thrown a glass of cold water in my face.

           
She sighed.
 
The sound was more wistful than anything else.
 
"They're getting a divorce."

           
"Are you serious?"

           
"Yes."

           
"Oh, Charisse," I said.
 
"That's terrible.
 
I'm so sorry.
 
Are you okay?"

           
Charisse gave me an odd little smile.
 
"Yes, I am."

           
"Well, what happened?" I asked.

           
Charisse sighed again and shrugged.
 
"In a way, it was nothing out of the ordinary – my parents have always argued.
 
Stubborn, you know.
 
Neither one of them ever backs down.
 
But you know about that already."

           
I nodded.
 
I did know that her household was pretty contentious.
 
I had witnessed it myself.
 
It was nothing really scary – shouting, slammed doors, passive aggressive comments – but it was contentious nonetheless.

           
Charisse continued.
 
"So, after yet another argument, my dad left last night.
 
He went to stay at our vacation cottage until he can find an apartment.
 
My mom and I are going to stay at the house."

           
"I'm sorry, Charisse.
 
This must be killing you."

           
Charisse looked up at the sky.
 
"That's the weird part.
 
I'm okay with it.
 
My parents have been fighting my whole life.
 
I think they'll be better off apart, actually.
 
But people are supposed to be devastated when their parents break up.
 
And I'm not.
 
I have to wonder if something's wrong with me.
 
I don't even really want to talk about it.
 
But I did want you to be the first to know that it happened – you're my best friend."

           
I was surprised by her answer, but at the same time, I wanted to be supportive.

           
I gave her a hug.
 
"You have a right to your feelings – whatever they are," I said.

           
But all the same I was worried.

           
I glanced up and caught sight of a familiar blond head pushing determinedly through a crowd that had formed nearby.

           
It was Simon.
 
His pale brows were drawn together, and his expression was stormy.

           
Charisse looked up at him as he approached.
 
"Wow.
 
Simon does not look happy.
 
Did you guys have a fight or something?"

           
"Charisse, of course not.
 
And you know we're just friends."
 
But I had had a feeling earlier that something was wrong with Simon.
 
It seemed as though I had been right.

           
Simon marched up to us.
 
He glanced at Charisse and gave her a tight-lipped smile.
 
"Hey."

           
He turned to me and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, hunching his shoulders.
 
"Can we talk?
 
Alone?"

           
I glanced uncertainly at Charisse.
 
"Will you be okay?"

           
Charisse smiled.
 
"Of course.
 
Like I said, amazingly, I'm all right with it all.
 
I'll see you in English class."

           
Simon waited with his head bowed while Charisse walked away.

           
When she was gone, he raised his face to mine – it was a mask of misery.

           
Something was really bothering him.

           
"Simon?" I prompted.

           
"It's my brother, James," he said abruptly.
 
"He did something wrong last night.
 
Really
wrong.
 
This time, he's going to jail."

           
I was startled.
 
"I know he gets in trouble a lot, but jail?"

           
Simon nodded grimly.
 
A muscle in his temple worked as he clenched his jaw.
 
"It's bad.
 
It's as bad as it can be.
 
The cops came to the house last night, looking for him.
 
My parents ordered me to go to my room and stay there.
 
I couldn't hear everything, but I heard enough."

           
Simon stopped and looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop.
 
He went on in a low voice.

           
"Somebody robbed a liquor store last night and shot the cashier.
 
The police think it was James."

           
Cold fear washed over me.
 
"He shot the cashier?
 
He didn't—"

           
I stopped suddenly.
 
I didn't want to finish my question.
 
I was afraid of what the answer would be."

           
Simon smiled bitterly.
 
"Did he kill the cashier?
 
No.
 
The cashier is in the hospital in stable condition.
 
They think he'll be okay.
 
Which doesn't change the fact that James shot somebody."

           
"You said the police
think
it was James."

           
Simon nodded.

           
"But they don't know for sure?"

           
"No."

           
"Then we don't know it was James yet.
 
Maybe the police have decided on the wrong person."

           
Simon looked at me miserably.
 
"Then why didn't he come home last night?
 
We don't know where he is.
 
The police don't know where he is.
 
Katie, if he's innocent, where is he?"

           
"Just keep an open mind."
 
I tried to sound reassuring.
 
"Maybe he just happened to be near the liquor store at the wrong time and was afraid he'd be accused of being involved the crime when he really wasn't.
 
With a record like his, you can understand why he might be nervous."

           
Simon nodded again, and I could see the taut lines of his face begin to relax.

           
I went on in the same soothing tone.
 
"James has been trying hard lately to pull his life together.
 
You and I have both seen how he's changed.
 
Please wait till you hear his side of things before you make up your mind."

           
Simon took in a deep breath and let it out heavily.
 
His expression relaxed even more until he looked almost like his usual, cheerful self.
 
"You're right.
 
James has been doing better lately.
 
Maybe it is a misunderstanding."

           
"Simon!"
 
A shrill voice suddenly sounded right in my ear, startling me.

           
A girl was wedging herself in between Simon and me, forcing both of us to step back to give her room.

           
I soon found myself facing a dark glossy ponytail.

           
"Hi, Simon!
 
How are you?" the girl chattered happily.
 
"Are we still on for lunch today?"

           
I sighed inwardly as I realized that I recognized the voice.

           
"Irina?" I asked.
 
"Is that you?"

           
The girl spun around.
 
It was, as I had suspected, Irina Neverov.
 
Her dark eyes glinted maliciously before widening into a convincing approximation of innocent astonishment.
 
A polite mask settled over her flawless features.
 
"Oh, Katie!
 
I didn't see you there.
 
Simon and I have a few things to discuss.
 
Would you mind giving us a minute?"
 
Irina flashed a bewitching smile.
 
"Thanks so much."

           
I wondered as I had before how things had gotten to this point.
 
Irina and I had been good friends when we were little, but now that we were in high school, we had somehow become enemies – and as far as I could see, the animosity was all on her side.
 
I hadn't changed much over the years, but Irina had.

           
Simon broke in firmly.
 
"I'll see you at lunch like I said, Irina.
 
Katie, would you walk inside with me?"

           
"Sure."
 
Clearly, Simon still needed to talk.

           
Simon took my elbow lightly and steered me across the yard and into the school.
 
He didn't say anything, and I could see that his earlier tension had returned.

           
The two of us walked in silence until we reached my locker.
 
I glanced up at Simon's face.
 
His expression had gone impassive.

           
"Simon?" I prompted.
 
"I assumed you still wanted to talk, but you haven't said a word."

           
"There's nothing going on between Irina and me," Simon blurted out.
 
"You have nothing to worry about.
 
We were assigned as partners for a science project.
 
We're going to be meeting at lunch today and then after school for most of the week.
 
I didn't get to choose.
 
You're all that matters to me.
 
You have to know that by now."

           
I felt guilt settling on me heavily.
 
Charisse was right.
 
Simon really did like me – a lot more than I had realized.
 
"Simon, you don't owe me an explanation.
 
You have the right to be friends with anyone you want to be friends with."