Secret Life (RVHS Secrets) (8 page)

Why did the look he gave me make me feel like I’d backed
over his puppy?

“Dude,” I started, trying to speak his language. “It’s, like,
ten o’clock at night. I’ve been dealing with you for over twelve hours off and
on. If you want me to be able to do this, I need a little prep time.”

I also needed a little
me
time
. There was one thing I wasn’t losing because of this “agreement.” My
Top Ten Percent standing was not suffering because of this tutoring set up.

“I’m not exactly a struggle to
deal
with. There are plenty of girls who wouldn’t mind having to
deal
with me on a Saturday night.”

“Fine.
I’m more than willing to give
my time slot to them.”
Dream.
Come. True.

I stood and headed toward the front hall, not sure what I
was going to do once I got there. I mean, his stuff was spread out all over the
counter and I wasn’t sure how long I could comfortably stand at the door
holding it open.

“Rachel.” He trailed behind me not looking the least bit
sorry. Not looking like he was going to apologize. “That’s not what I meant and
you know it.”

“Just more proof this isn’t going to work.”

“You said you knew what to do.” I could hear the panic
rising in his voice again. “You said you knew how to teach me History. There’s
no way you’re backing out. Listen. I’m sorry, alright?”

We stared at each other across the small entryway. Him
looking desperate,
me
feeling annoyed.

“Seriously, one more day.”
He ran
his hands over his curls and hit me where he knew it would hurt. “We’ll focus
more on the Calc tomorrow too.”

I loved the “more” in that sentence. As if we’d focused on
it at all so far.

“Fine.”
I pushed past him, careful
to not actually touch him as I made my way back to the kitchen. “But tomorrow
we make time for math no matter what.”

He nodded, looking like he’d agree to just about anything,
and started packing up, tossing things in his backpack like dirty laundry in a
basket. The lack of organization just about killed me. So did all his charm.
Or lack
there of
.
I mean,
everything he got from girls, he got with charm. Me, he bullied.

“So, what time do you want to get together tomorrow?”

He’d told me he was serious, but this was out of control.
When was I supposed to have a life?

The last two days flashed through my head. They consisted of
pining over my ex-boyfriend, being a third-wheel with Amy and Luke, and trying
to hold things together…something I hadn’t struggled with since watching Chris
awkwardly page through a textbook like he’d never seen one before.

He was better than an accessory. He was a distraction.

“How about after lunch?”

“Sure.
Sounds good.”
He glanced at
the clock on the microwave and pulled his backpack on. “See you tomorrow.”

I walked him back to the front door and threw it shut behind
him. Climbing the stairs, I noticed the crack of light from my mom’s room as
she shouted out to me.

“Honey, what time is Chris leaving?”

“He just left, Mom.”

Her door opened and she peeked out at me. “He just left? I
didn’t hear a car. Did you let Molly in?”

How parents string all those thoughts together and call us
the unfocused ones is beyond me.

“I let Molly in. And yes, he just left. His mom had his car
earlier.”

Now she was all the way in the hallway, the faded George
Michael T-shirt she slept in crinkled as if she’d been to bed already.

“Rachel, you can’t let that boy walk home at this hour on a
Saturday night. He may get hit by some crazy drunk driver.”

I rolled my eyes. I understand it’s part of the teen code to
do that to your mom at least once every forty-eight hours—even a quasi-cool
mom, like mine. Please ignore the above-described T-shirt.

“I highly doubt he’s going home. We’d be lucky if he wasn’t
throwing a party with half-naked cheerleaders and warm beer at the end of the
driveway.”

“Rachel Ann Wells, you get your butt out there and drive
that boy home. If he wants to go drink himself to death, he can do it after
checking in with his own mother.”

This was one of those arguments you knew you weren’t going
to win, but you had to put up a good fight so they didn’t think you caved too
easily.

“But Mom—”

“Don’t make me drive him home myself.”

Wow. That was a hugely wrong idea. I glanced down at the short
shorts I’d given her for Christmas as a joke. They said “DIVA” on the ass and
were too short even if they looked good on her…you know, for a mom.

“Fine.”

Chapter
9

I shouldn’t have been surprised to see the reflective strip
across the back of Chris’s backpack going the opposite direction of his house.
Pulling up beside him, I reached across the passenger’s seat and rolled the
window down.

“Hey.”

He glanced my way, a look of relief crossing his face when
he saw me. I found it hard to believe he’d think some random person was trying
to pick him up on the side of the road. Glancing away from the street and at
him again, I rethought that idea and wondered if being
that
good-looking might be a little bit of a pain in the rear.

“Where
ya
going?”
I asked when I didn’t get a “hey” back.

He just kept walking, without another glance my way. It
seemed like he might want me to go away, but I couldn’t be sure. The more time
I spent around Chris, the more I realized he was a little odd.

“Chris?”

He stopped and I drove by him, surprised by the move.
Throwing the car into park, I pulled myself through my window and sat on the
ledge, watching him across the roof.

“Where are you going?” I asked again.

He stood there, his head tipped toward the moon, weight
shifted back on one leg as he ran his fingers through his hair. His head
lowered and he met my gaze straight on. It felt heavy.
Important.

He crossed the white stripe edging the side of the road and
leaned his elbows on the roof of the car. His gaze drifted away before he
spoke, as if he couldn’t connect in more than one small way at a time.

“I just wasn’t ready to go home yet.”

There was something he wasn’t telling me. His voice had
dropped, and he seemed caught between worry and anger. Whatever that something
was bubbled up from a place he didn’t want to talk about. It was almost as if
Chris had layers.

Or, maybe he was just thinking about which girl he was going
to lure out of her parent’s house tonight.

“Are you going somewhere else? I could drop you off.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t used to
non-talkers. Everywhere I go
it’s
talk, talk, talk.
Oh, yeah, and talk.
Camp
Oscheen
,
therapy, my mom and sisters, the girls at school.

“Get in.” I didn’t leave him a choice when I slid back in my
window, reached across the passenger’s seat and gave his door a little shove
open.

His hand wrapped around the door’s frame through the open
window. He stood there a moment, above my view, before he pulled his backpack
off and dropped into the seat beside me.

Both of us had made a decision. I doubt either of us knew we
had—or what it was—but something shifted in that moment.

I sped off, still heading away from both our houses.
Still heading nowhere.
Pushing us further from the
normal
neither of us seemed to want.
Escaping the places and people where panic happened.

I glanced over, surprised to see Chris rest his head back
against the headrest—his panic slipping away too. In that moment, I wanted to
rescue him as much as I wanted to rescue myself.

I was pretty sure that impulse would pass when I thought
about it, but for now, I just kept pushing us toward the darkened edge of town.

The streetlights flew by, thinning out as we got further
from the main streets. On the far side of town, the river paced along beside
us, shaping the road, forcing it into curves I should have slowed down for. I
raced the Man in the Moon and every demon either of us carried toward the
darkness.

He crooked his head, catching the glow of the moon. “Where
are we going?”

“Who cares?” I didn’t. I was out of the house and still
feeling fairly free. I pushed the gas harder, hitting the fifty mile per hour
point. This would be one hell of a ticket if we got pulled over.

Beside me, I heard the snick of Chris’s seatbelt, but he
didn’t say anything. I didn’t expect him to.

The road turned, but the river went on. I hit the brakes
hard, rushing us to a stop at the edge of a dirt road that was so overgrown it
couldn’t have been used in ages.

“Rachel.” There was a question in his voice riding under the
warning.

I turned to him, and felt that grin spread across my face.
The one I loved. The one I could feel every time I just didn’t care. Even with
him sitting there bracing a hand against the dash, I
couldn’t
care.

Reckless.
Reckless,
but still vaguely in control.
Sometimes, it felt good to let other
emotions override the fear and anxiety.
Anger, joy,
amusement, worry.
Recklessness.

Throwing the Honda back into gear, I aimed us down the road,
watching for glass and animals, but mostly just wondering where this dead road
ended.

The headlights splashed across a line of trees, the grass
thinning into a dirt circle. A tall, wooden arched bridge silhouetted against
the pale crescent moon, a tower of the past in the dark, silent night.

I threw the emergency brake and pulled the keys out,
dropping them on my seat as I crawled out and let the door fall shut behind me.
I strode toward the bridge, wondering what it would be like to see the moon
reflected in the water from the tall view over the river. If only the whole
world could be seen from a secret place like that.

A twelve-foot fence stood between me and that place with the
quiet moonlit answers. I waded through the overgrowth of brush to the gate. A
chain and padlock held it almost shut, but not enough to keep me out.

Sliding between the
gap
in the
fence—not to mention ignoring the No Trespassing sign—I glanced toward the car.
Chris leaned against its side, his arms folded across his chest, one ankle
kicked across the other. Turning back, I pushed the shrubbery out of the way as
I searched for the place water met land several feet down.
A
nice straight drop.

“Rachel.”

Behind me, Chris stood with the gate held open enough to
squeeze through. I wondered if he’d stopped or if he didn’t fit. For a moment I
considered going back, but then a clean breeze rushed up from the water. Cool.
Clear. It pushed my hair away from my face. It was like flying and being
grounded at the same time.

I gave him a smile I hoped said, “Stay there if you want,
but join me if you can,” and chased the wind toward the wooden arch of the
bridge at the water’s edge. Ducking under another sign, I placed a foot on the
slat and gave a hard shove. When the only thing that dropped away was the
anxiety I’d been carrying all day, I rushed out onto it knowing
quick
would be better if falling was involved.

“Hey,” Chris’s voice was closer this time.
Following.
There was no reason to go back if he was coming
out.

At the center of the bridge, I lowered myself to the edge,
dropping my legs over the side. Below me, the moon clashed with the branches
and debris that floated over its reflection, stealing the light from one side
for long moments.

“Rachel?”

I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking
,
My God, this girl’s
crazy,
but I couldn’t deal with that right now. With the breeze making my
eyes tear and the sweet scent of chilled water drifting up to me, all I cared
about was the darkness to hide in and the quiet to listen to.

Instead, he surprised me…showed me just how differently we
thought. How neither of us was more than slightly focused on anything other
than ourselves even as we considered the other.

“You didn’t have to bring me out here.” He lowered himself
next to me. “I knew I’d have to go home eventually. It’s…”

I’m not sure where that sentence was going. Even my typical
nosiness couldn’t get me to ask. I was afraid again, but this time I was afraid
of what I’d learn about Chris. I had enough demons of my own.

In the dim light, all I could see was the rough outline of
his face. Everything—the details—faded. I liked the idea. Details had never
been my friend.

I shrugged, but then couldn’t let him feel guilty over
something I’d needed too. “I just couldn’t seem to stop driving.”

He nodded, as if the idea was something he’d thought about
himself. As if we’d been in his car, we still would have ended up here in this
abandoned sanctuary.

“How’d you find this place?”

I grinned at him, doubting he could see me at all with the
moonlight behind me.

“When the road ended, we went straight.”

He looked at me for a long moment, the silence a pause
overriding the river’s gush, and then laid back his head and laughed. A full,
real laugh I’d never expected to hear from him.

“God, Rachel. Who knows what could have been down here.”

My family always worried about me. Amy was always careful
about everything since she started dating Luke—careful not to leave me out or
behind. Dr. Meadows was safe because she knew when not to push.

This, this carelessness he showed toward me—like I wouldn’t
break at the smallest thing —drew me like nothing any of them offered before.

“I’m planning on sacrificing you to the moon later.” I
leaned in as if I was sharing a secret. “Just so you know.”

He laughed again and leaned back on his elbows, closing his
eyes and soaking in the beams as if they fed him.

I tore off a bit of the bridge, shredding and dropping it
over the edge to watch the current pull it away.

“I just couldn’t go home yet, you know?” His voice came from
behind me, low as if he hadn’t been sure he was speaking aloud.

I started to shake my head but remembered his eyes were
closed.

“Sometimes,” he continued before I could form a response. “I
just can’t stand being there.”

I moved to focus on him stretched out beside me, and thought
about how very different we were. He couldn’t go home, and I could barely
manage to leave mine. That lost bridge was the first time I’d felt safe outside
my room.

“Why?” It seemed weird to ask him that.

Hell, it seemed weird to be here with him at all.

He shrugged and then opened his eyes.
“Stuff.”

Stuff
,
the international word for
none of your
business
.

“’Kay.”
I was…disappointed. I’d
suddenly suspected there was more to him—more than even Amy insisted on—and I
was about to get a glimpse of it.

As if.

My gaze drifted back to the moon on the water, perched there
as if it existed above and below. For a small dull moment, I thought about
pushing off the ledge and letting myself have the millisecond of freedom with
the moon before letting the weight of it all pull me under.

“It’s just...” He sat up and leaned against the railing.
“Things there are a little messed up right now.”

I studied him from lowered lashes. He stared out over the
water, watching something. Almost ignoring me as if what I thought was
secondary to everything going on in that head of his.

“That’s why your mom needs your car?” Why was I pushing
this?

He rubbed his hands up and down the edge of his shorts as if
trying to get something off them. Get them clean.

“Yeah.”

I waited, not knowing what to say. What could I? I didn’t even
know what we were talking about. He seemed so stressed, but my mind shrugged it
off. I figured he was just tired of listening to his parents argue about money
or something.

Those were the types of issues I wished I had.

“My dad…he’s been…”

It was like I could feel him vibrating a few feet away.
Whatever his dad was, sucked.
Plain and
simple.
You could tell.

I was actually surprised he continued. I mean, guys aren’t
known for their let’s-talk-about-stuff-we-don’t-have-to-
ness
.

“The problem is
,
I have a lot of my
dad in me.”

I thought about my own dad—that guy who left my mom to raise
three daughters and had his wages garnished instead of actually sending a
check—I’m not sure I’d enjoy admitting I had some of him in me.

I nodded though, because I
did
understand. I was just lucky enough that the guy I didn’t want
to be like left, so dealing with him was a non-issue.

He didn’t say anything else, just laid back again with his
arms crossed under his head, looking at the stars.

After a while, no idea how long, I figured my mom would be
frantic. I patted my pocket and realized I hadn’t grabbed my phone on the way
out.

It was a new rule, but I got it. Rachel always has a phone
for the rescue call.

I pulled my feet up and stood over him, studying the cast down
angel beside me in the moonlight. And then I kicked myself for thinking of
Chris Kent as any type of angel, even a fallen one.

He opened one eye and looked up at me.

“We’ve
gotta
go.”

The eye fell shut and for a second I thought he’d argue. He
looked as peaceful as I felt. But he let me pull him to his feet. He looked
down at me a moment.
An odd, long moment.
I felt
trapped in some weird space that didn’t make sense. He wasn’t the Chris he’d
been two days ago, but he wasn’t a date or a friend or even safe. Dropping my
hand, he motioned for me to lead the way.

We ducked under the sign and then he held the chain gate
open. Easing through, I stopped to watch him angle himself under the lock after
me.

The drive was quiet, only the sound of the peeper frogs and
the air rushing past the open windows.

I took those turns back slower, anxious to have him out of
my car, but holding onto the peace of the night. When we passed my house, my
mom’s light was still on and a Mack truck of guilt snuck into my calm.