The Understorey, Book One of The Leaving Series (3 page)

That’s when I noticed Sawyer Tuttle. His eyes
followed her every movement. His fists tightened when she tossed
her hair behind her shoulders and I had the overpowering desire to
clobber his face. I searched for a reason to justify such a violent
reaction but there was none.
Damn.
He wasn’t doing anything
repulsive. In fact, I was probably the only person in the room who
even noticed him watching her; he was so subtle about it.

Still, it felt as if he was
asking
me
to hit him and it was bothering me that I didn’t know why. I had no
claim on Jules. She wasn’t mine to get in fights over but I still
wanted to and had to busy my hands in order to distract myself.
Yep, Sawyer Tuttle was officially on my enemies list and for
motives I couldn’t comprehend. I was in trouble.

I officially knew what we shared as far as
our schedules were concerned. On A days, Jules and I had second and
third period together. On B days, we only had fourth period
Chemistry together, but we shared lunches on both days, which put
some color back into the way I felt about spending time away from a
girl who essentially acted as if I were made of acid. I felt like a
bonded animal. It was comical.

Despite her apparent hatred of me, time away
from Jules seemed such an uncomfortable idea. I felt slightly
queasy at the prospect because I had this confusing and
overwhelming urge to protect Jules and couldn’t quite put my finger
on why I felt that way. Jules was not exactly the kind of girl who
needed defending. She was spirited, feisty. I passed her house
dozens of times that first week on the way to and from school, and
sometimes not even then, looking for her teal Karmann Ghia, hoping,
no, desperate to know if she was at home. Just knowing where she
was gave me a sense of peace and appeased the unwanted and
definitely inexplicable ache I felt for her. Each class, we sat
near to one another and each class I promised myself I would talk
to her only to lose my nerve every single time I attempted to open
my mouth.

Whenever I was near her she made my palms
sweat. More than the two hours of practice I had every day baking
in the sun. Football practice was sort of a numb distraction from
the things I needed to forget about. At least for the little while
that I needed to forget. I especially enjoyed it during the weeks I
struggled with who the new Jules was supposed to be to me. Honestly
though, football was at the bottom of the  list of things I
wanted to do, especially after seeing Jules outside Mrs. Kitt’s
class that first day of school.

I was our high school’s quarterback, letter
jacket and all, moonlighting as an academic obsessed with science.
Looking back, I don’t know why I kept that fact a secret. My
teachers certainly knew but I had made it very clear that I wanted
no one else to know. I was afraid of the backlash I’d get from the
team. I should have been proud of the fact that I was phenomenal at
it right? Right. I should have been. But you didn’t have my father
and you didn’t know Bramwell, West Virginia. Don’t get me wrong, I
mean, my dad, Mark, was
awesome
. Awesome but also an out of
shape ex-football star who hurt his knee senior year and wasn’t
able to play college.

He had been banking on that to get him out of
Bramwell, but eventually accepted his fate as a potential lifelong
resident and settled down with my mom, Shelby. Once they had me and
my little sister Maddy, they were stuck here for good. That’s why
he was obsessed with me playing and playing well. He wanted me to
have a life outside of Bramwell and its coal mines. My mom, on the
other hand, didn’t care if I made Bramwell my home or not, as long
as I was happy. All her family came to live in Bramwell when they
caravanned as one huge group from Oklahoma about thirty years
before. Bramwell was a step up in society to her, since it had been
one of the wealthiest towns in America at the turn of the
century.

Though the wealthiest in America no longer
had a place in our sleepy little town, their homes remained and
that’s where the very few of the wealthy-enough residing in
Bramwell lived, including Jules’ family. Her mother and father were
both big wigs at the coal mines my dad happened to work at. They
had a flare for luxury, especially Jules’ mother. I remember Jules
coming to school in elementary and junior high in the most hideous
designer clothing I’d ever seen. It wasn’t until she reached high
school and her mom couldn’t dress her anymore that Jules became her
own girl and probably much to her mother’s dismay.

My mom had always been a simple woman, never
really needing much. The one thing my mom and pop did have going on
for one another was the deepest of loves. Deeper than any of the
other parents I came across in Bramwell. My dad was always really
kind to my mom. Once a week, he’d pick wildflowers off Main and put
them in this little ceramic pitcher she kept on the table. Two
summers ago, he got really sick and had to stay in bed for a week.
He made me pick the flowers for her because he knew she was
expecting them.

As I got older, I took serious notice of the
way my mother and father looked at one another and knew it was
something I had to have for myself. I learned early on through
their example that I needed to find my hypothetical key in order to
feel as happy as they did. Needless to say, I was in a hurry to
love someone the way my father loved my mother. Nothing looked as
comforting or as fun as that.

It never even crossed my mind that my key was
someone I would have known my entire life. I always thought I’d
meet her in college or something, funny how life bites you like
that.

Jules definitely had a profound effect on me
throughout those first few weeks. My life was filled with
unbelievable anxiety every moment that I was awake. I did
everything within my power but could
not
get her off my
mind. I tried desperately to forget her. Every night, after dinner,
I would get in my truck and tell myself to drive. Somewhere.
Anywhere.
Except
to wherever Jules may be. That was my only
rule. I forbade myself to look for Jules, convinced that I needed
to break my dependence on knowing where she was, as if I could do
that, but of course, every night, I meandered throughout town
trying to tell myself that I wasn’t out driving to see if Jules was
at Thatcher’s, or at one of the shops off Main in Bramwell’s
business district, or at her home, The Perry House, on Brick that
turned into Main.

I never had trouble with schoolwork before
Jules either, but she distracted me so often, even in the classes
we didn’t share, that I would get home and have to try and teach
myself everything I missed in class because the lessons behind the
homework were never absorbed. I found myself wondering where she
was, what she was doing, what she was wearing, how her hair looked,
how she smelled, and what book she’d be reading at lunch the next
day. And the weekends? The weekends were pure torture.

The Friday night of the second agonizing
week, I left town and drove two hours to Charleston to get my mind
off her. I went to an obscure little book store and actually
wandered into the self-help section. I absently trailed my fingers
along the titles praying there would be one that read ‘You’re
insane Elliott Gray. Stop obsessing about Julia Jacobs’ or ‘She’s
just a normal girl dummy. An abnormally beautiful and intelligent
girl who just happens to share literal electricity with you but
that’s nothing to get so worked up about’. Can you believe it?
There wasn’t, but there
was
one ironically entitled ‘Getting
over the one you’re obsessed with’. I laughed out loud, got a few
shushes, and almost picked it up but stopped myself.
I do need
help
, I thought to myself,
but not this kind. Professional
help.
I began to pick my way through the aisles heading toward
the Fantasy section. I was still waiting on Stefanie Conrad’s new
novel to come out and wondered if it was there.

I took a right into the section and my heart
nearly stopped cold where I stood. Jules was there. Reading from a
book and had absolutely no idea that I was looking at her. I began
to panic and my stomach tied into knots that would rival any
sailor’s. I escaped the aisle without detection and found solace
one row over. I knelt down, cursing my ridiculous height, and ran
my fingers through my hair trying to think.
Gotta’ get out of
here
, I thought.
Can’t let her catch you. She’ll skin you
alive and you’ll ruin any chance of talking to her again.

I shot up, kept my head buried in my neck and
headed straight for the door. I could not have gotten out fast
enough. I was confused, agitated. I leaned against the door of my
truck and dug my hand into my pocket to find my keys.
No! No!
No! No!
No
!
I left them inside the jacket I had strung
over a reading chair inside. If my keys hadn’t been inside that
store I would have said goodbye to one of my nicest jackets, that’s
how eager I was to get out of there.

I thought about waiting for her to leave but
didn’t want to risk being the real life example of the predator
inside that stalker book if she saw me camped out in my truck or at
a nearby shop. Plus, she knew my truck. If she hadn’t seen it
coming in she would definitely spot it coming out being that it was
right in front of the entrance.

I hated the idea of her thinking I was
watching
her. Why should I care now, right? When I’ve been
watching at school and searching the town for her? Because,
technically, back at home I was watching
for
her not
at
her. Yup, I had to go back in. I gave myself a little pep
talk and strolled back into the store convinced she’d probably
never even see me as long as I was quick. I opened the door and the
little bell attached to the handle, rang. All eyes shot toward me
but returned to their own business, except for one pair. Jules’
pair. She was in the checkout line purchasing her book. My face
went flush and I tripped over a chair.

Her eyebrows pinched in confusion then
seethed with anger.
She thinks I’m following her. Damn it! Why
did I have to pick this store? Of all stores? Why did I have to
leave my keys in that stupid jacket in this stupid store?

I picked up the coat with a yank and headed
back out toward my truck without giving her a second glance and
shoved the store’s door open with all my might. I had never been so
angry with myself in my entire life. I wish I had stayed home and
played board games with my mom and pop or called Jesse and see if
he wasn’t with a girl that night but I didn’t. Instead, I had
daftly removed any sort of minuscule chance of making something
real with the one girl I couldn’t stop thinking about.

The drive home gave me the opportunity to
analyze what had happened over and over in my mind and by the time
I had arrived, according to my calculations, the atom bomb might as
well have detonated inside that store. I demolished any hope of a
future with Julia Jacobs. I stormed off to my room, ignoring my
parents’ stares. I slammed the door behind me and kicked on my
stereo before toppling onto the bed and laid there staring at the
plastered ceiling until I noticed I still had that insipid jacket
on. I sprang off my bed, tore off the jacket and threw it across
the room and sank back onto the bed with enough force that my hair
landed in my face. I brushed it over my head when I heard a knock
at the door and laid my arm across my eyes.

“Elliott? Honey, are you okay?” My mom sang
in her deep southern accent.

“Yes mama,” I muttered beneath the crook of
the arm draped over my face.

“Can I come in baby?”

“Sure mom.”

I didn’t budge. She walked into the room and
I could hear her little footsteps stride across the wood floor
before she lay on the bed next to me. I peeked underneath my arm
and smiled at her as she folded her hands across her stomach. No
matter how angry I was at myself I could never take it out on the
one person who knew me the best.

    “Sweetheart. There’s
something wrong.”
    “No, mama. There isn’t.”
    “I wasn’t askin’ Elliott. I was tellin’.”
I remained quiet.
    “You’ve been mopin’ around here for the past few
weeks darlin’ and I wanna’ know why. You’re really starting to
worry me. So, spill. Is it school?”
    “No, mama. It’s not school. It’s a student
at
school.”
    “Hmm. I’m having trouble imagining my six foot
four mammoth of a son would have a problem with anyone,” she
laughed.
When I didn’t say anything, she kept on.
    “Well does your mama need to call his mama?” She
teased, poking me in the ribs.
We both laughed.
    “No, that’s okay. Seriously. It’s okay. I’m
gonna’ fix it. Come Monday, come hell or high water. I’m going to
fix it.”
    “Well good son.” She tapped me on the leg before
lifting herself off the bed. “Come on, it’s time for dinner. Oh,
and Elliott? Remember, you never throw the first punch boy. That’s
the rule. Just a reminder.”
    “It won’t come to that mom. Trust me.”
I was beginning to scare myself. It was time to do something about
my obsession.

Chapter
Two
With Everything I
Have

These were the days that changed my
heart.

I remember it all so vividly.

Elliott Gray was hovering above me. He’s
speaking to me but I’m too mortified by the fact that I’ve run into
my mom’s best friend and my math teacher, then slipped on the
worksheets she was carrying, to listen.

Not to mention the fact that there is some
freaky things happening between the two of us that I just can’t
seem to put my finger on. He is affecting me and I never asked him
to do this. I’m losing control. I
never
lose control.