Tale of Life (Essence Series #2) (16 page)

“How long do we have to stay?” Breccan shouted over the music.

Easton stared at him. “The whole time.”

“But that’s like three hours,” he said. “We don’t talk to anyone outside the three of us so why are we even here? Let’s just go get milkshakes like last time. Mom will never know.”

“Well, the ticket was expensive,” Calloway said. “I would like to get my money’s worth.”

“You weren’t complaining when you spent six hundred dollars on a suit!” he snapped.

Easton elbowed him in the gut. “Don’t speak to Calloway like that.”

Breccan rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s okay,” Calloway said. “I was being an idiot—I admit it. I should have listened to you guys to begin with.”

Easton’s eyes softened at his words. “Did she say why?”
\

“She said she was fed up with you,” Calloway explained. “She thought I had feelings for you the entire time.”

“Why?” Easton asked incredulously. “Why would she think that?”

Calloway shifted his weight and Weston moved closer to him, tightening her fingers around his. “When she asked me to stop seeing you, I refused.”

Easton stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond to the revelation. “You did?” she asked quietly.

“I would never pick her over you,” Calloway said. “I’m sorry I made you doubt me.”

Easton sighed. “And we’re sorry we gave you such a hard time about her.”

“
We
?” Breccan asked incredulously. “I’m not sorry at all. Beatrice was bad news from the start.”

Easton ignored him. “If we hadn’t been such jerks it may have been different,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Calloway. We weren’t being very supportive.”

“It’s water under the bridge,” Calloway said. “We were both at fault. Let’s just forget about it.”

“Okay/” Easton smiled.

Weston leaned toward him. “Let’s dance.”

“I’m not very good,” he said.

“Neither am I.” She pulled him toward the dance floor and Calloway followed her. When they were in the middle of the room, Weston started to move her body and Calloway was captivated by the sight. He had never danced before but he didn’t feel embarrassed for trying it now. With her, everything was easy and fun. Calloway grabbed her hand spun her around, watching her dress rise in the air while she moved, and then he dipped her to the ground. When he pulled her back, Weston was giggling loudly with a huge smile on her face, and Calloway couldn’t help it—he laughed, too.

The speedy music ended and a slow ballade came on the speakers.

“Darn,” Calloway said. “I was just finding my groove.”

Weston wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face close to hers. “Slow dancing is fun, too.”

Calloway wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her near his chest. They were closer than they were at formal, a lot closer, but Calloway didn’t mind the proximity. He wondered if Weston was acting this way to put on a show for Beatrice or she was doing this because she wanted to. But Calloway would never know—he would never ask.

She pressed her forehead against his and their lips were almost touching. Calloway stared into her eyes and she met his gaze, unblinking. Calloway felt his heart hammer in his chest, ready to shatter from emotion. The music was mute in Calloway’s ears and he was blind to the people standing around him, his gaze focused on the beautiful woman before him. This closeness should feel awkward, only it didn’t. Calloway let himself soak the moment with every fiber of his being. He glanced at her lips and wished—prayed—that she would kiss him. Calloway wasn’t stupid—he would never make such a bold move, knowing it could be devastating to their already unsteady relationship. He enjoyed kissing Beatrice and he wondered how it would feel with Weston—probably a million times better.

His hands slid across the back of her dress until he felt her bare skin. He let his palms linger there for a long while, touching the warm flesh of her body. Her fingers slid through the back of his hair and the touch felt soothing and relaxing. Calloway felt more confused than he ever had—even with Beatrice—by the way Weston was behaving. She must feel the same way—she had to.

Calloway opened his to mouth to speak, finding courage in the feel of her touch on his body and the loving gaze in her eyes. He was about to tell her every thought he had about her when he spotted Beatrice in the crowd—kissing Hawk.

Calloway stopped swaying to the music overhead and he released his grip on Weston’s back. When Weston recognized the distress on his face, she turned around and looked across the room, seeing Beatrice kiss Hawk passionately right in the middle of the floor.

It felt like a strong punch to the gut, painful and nauseating at the same time. The beautiful moment he had with Weston was ruined by the disturbing sight. Everything became louder and more prominent. He was aware of the other students staring at him, quietly laughing at him because of the distressed look on his face.

“Excuse me,” Calloway whispered. He walked away from Weston, leaving her standing alone, and advanced outside, getting away from the sight of Beatrice with Hawk. Even when he held Weston in his arms, he couldn’t escape the agony he felt over the loss of Beatrice—the unforgivable betrayal.

Night had descended and it was growing cold despite the presence of spring. Calloway inhaled the air through his lungs and tried to calm his chaotic emotions, which swirled inside of him like a raging hurricane. He wanted to punch something. He straightened his back and focused his thoughts on a happier memory, when Weston kissed him on the cheek a few months ago. Whenever he felt depressed he always relived that moment, treasuring the feeling it gave him. Calloway started to feel the emotions flood his body once again and the despair started to dwindle, fading away from his heart.

When he looked up from the ground, his heart halted in his chest. A Hara-Kir was standing in the shadow of a neighboring building, staring at him intently. Calloway froze, not even breathing, and he looked at the creature across the way. He reached for his knife in his pocket but his hand was steadied by the actions of the Hara-Kir.

It held up his hand then made a variety of hand signals, communicating with Calloway in an unspeakable way, like sign language. Calloway stared at it for a moment, unsure what was happening. When Calloway didn’t move, the Hara-Kir repeated the same gesture, staring directly at Calloway.

The other door a few feet away flew open, amplifying the sound of the music inside. Calloway stepped back and blended into the shadow of the building, not wanting to be seen. The Hara-Kir stepped back into the shadows, hiding most of its form from view.

“Come on!” the male voice said. He was dragging a woman behind him and Calloway recognized her voice.

“I don’t want to go, Hawk,” Beatrice said. “I spent so much time picking out my dress and getting ready. They didn’t even announce the prom king and queen.”

“Shut up,” Hawk snapped. “You aren’t going to win anyway. Not after you dated that trash bag.”

“Can we just stay a little longer?” she begged.

Hawk grabbed her by the arm. “No,” he yelled. “My brother said we could use his apartment. Forget this stupid dance.”

“Please,” she begged.

Hawk yanked her by the arm. “Shut up,” he snapped.

Beatrice tried to wrestle from his arm. “Let me go!” she cried. “Stop it!”

Hawk dragged her further away from the door and to his jeep in the parking lot. Calloway stepped closer to get a better look. Hawk was practically dragging her across the concrete, smearing dirt across the pink material of her dress. Calloway looked back at the Hara-Kir and saw it stare at him for a moment. Then it stepped back into the shadows.

Calloway didn’t understand what the gesture meant but he knew he had to find out. He was about to chase it when he looked back at Beatrice, who was still trying to yank free of Hawk’s savage hold. Her hair had fallen loose from her clip and she was starting to cry. Calloway forced her to the back of his mind. She was in this situation because she wanted to be—it was her fault. Calloway knew she wasn’t his problem anymore, and after everything she had done to him, he knew he shouldn’t care—she deserved this.

But Calloway couldn’t let this happen to her. Even after everything she did to him, she didn’t deserve to be treated like that, even if it was her own fault. He abandoned the Hara-Kir, knowing he shouldn’t, and sprinted across the way to the parking lot, where Hawk was practically shoving her into the front seat.

“LET HER GO!” Calloway grabbed Hawk and threw him to the ground, letting Beatrice move away from the car. The anger coursed through his body as he saw Hawk hit the concrete. He wanted to jump on him again, giving him a bloody nose that covered his entire face with the life sustaining liquid, but he controlled his ferocity. “KNOCK IT OFF!”

Hawk climbed back to his feet then shoved Calloway into the door of his jeep, punching him as he held him against the car.

“Stop it!” Beatrice cried.

Calloway kneed Hawk in the stomach then pushed him back. “STOP THIS NOW!”

Hawk glared at him. “You’re the one that assaulted me, Poverty Boy #2! Go back and find some trash to eat.”

“I’m done with this,” Calloway said. “Leave Beatrice alone,” he commanded.

Hawk laughed. “She’s the one that comes crawling to me,” he said. “I can’t keep her away.”

“Well, it looked like she was crawling
away
from you,” Calloway snapped. “Leave her alone! I mean it.”

Hawk pushed him savagely. “Or what?” he challenged. “What are you going to do? Mug me so your family will have groceries for the week?”

“KNOCK IT OFF!” Calloway yelled. “I DON’T CARE THAT I’M POOR! I DON’T CARE!”

Hawk laughed. “It sounds like you do.” He pushed him again. “I hope your family didn’t have to take out a second mortgage to pay for that camera.”

Calloway felt his mind snap. He was tired of hearing the insults about his family, sick of Hawk harassing Beatrice, and he was tired of being pushed. His control on his body was fading quickly, replaced with a violent rage.

Suddenly, Hawk punched him in the face, spilling blood from his nose. Calloway reacted immediately, pushing Hawk to the ground as he started to punch him relentlessly. Hawk kneed him in the stomach then rolled on top of Calloway, punching him in the eye.

“Stop it!” Beatrice shrieked.

Calloway yelled when Hawk hit him in the eye again, and he rolled on top of him, punching him with all the force he could muster, putting his entire weight behind his fist.

“BREAK IT UP!”

Calloway jumped off Hawk when he heard a teacher approach, Mr. Henry, the world civilization instructor. He felt Hawk’s blood on his hands and felt his own drip from his nose. He knew how incriminating the scene appeared and the panic started to take hold. Calloway knew he shouldn’t have let his anger get to him, but he couldn’t help it—he was livid.

“What happened here?” Mr. Henry asked.

Hawk wiped his blood on the sleeve of his suit. “He assaulted me, sneaking up behind me while I tried to take my date home because she wasn’t feeling well. He just started attacking me!”

The students were filtering outside the building, watching the scene from the front doors. He heard Easton and Breccan talking just a few feet away then felt the familiar hand on his arm—it was Weston.

“That isn’t true!” Calloway snapped. “He was assaulting her and I intervened, trying to protect her.” He looked at Beatrice. “Tell them.”

Everyone looked Beatrice, waiting for her to confirm his story, but she glanced at Hawk then averted her gaze. Calloway heard the anger in Easton’s voice.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she hissed. “You’re such a coward!”

“That’s enough,” Mr. Henry said. “Calloway, you are suspended from school for a week. Any further disciplinary action will be sent to you by mail.”

“
What
?” Calloway snapped. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Hawk was smiling, triumphant in his scheme.

“I’m sick of this!” Calloway yelled. “All the teachers know that Hawk is pure scum but you all turn a blind eye because his father is the principal. Grow a backbone and stand up to him!”

Mr. Henry pointed his finger at him. “Do you want to make it two weeks?”

Calloway took a deep breath, controlling the angry retort on his tongue. “No, sir,” he said obediently.

Mr. Henry turned to Hawk and helped him to his feet. They walked him over to the nurse’s station in the other building, along with Beatrice, but no one attended to Calloway. All the teachers stayed away from, treating him like a contagious disease.

Weston wiped Calloway’s face with the napkins from the school dance, cleaning the dripping blood from his face. Calloway let her attend to him, making him look presentable. When she was finished she examined his eye, which was already bruised and swollen.

“You’re going to need some ice,” she whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

She ran her hands down his jacket. “At least you didn’t get any blood on your suit.”

Calloway didn’t respond—he didn’t care.

Lesser of Two Evils

“What happened?” Aunt Grace asked in a frantic voice.

Calloway’s left eye was blue, bruised from the collision of Hawk’s fist with his face, and his nose was still dripping slightly. He sat in the back seat with Weston, who continued to wipe the drops of blood away as they came.

Aunt Grace turned on the overhead light of the car and examined his features. Her eyes widened in fear. “Are you okay?” she asked, practically hysterical. “Do we need to take you to the hospital?”

“No,” Calloway said. “I’ll be fine.”

Weston wiped another drop away.

“What happened?” Uncle Scott asked. “Why were you fighting?”

Calloway sighed. “Hawk, the same kid that broke the camera, was harassing Beatrice, trying to force her leave the dance. When I intervened, it became violent.”

“Then why are you
suspended
?” Aunt Grace yelled. Calloway had never seen her so angry. “You did nothing wrong. And that
jerk
should be expelled from the school.”