Trouble from the Start (8 page)

I loved the smell of engine oil and grease. I felt right at home when I stepped into Smiley's garage. Mr. Smiley—or Smiley, as he told me to call him—was an odd-looking guy with big ears and a smile that took up most of his face. He looked really glad to see me and enthusiastically shook my hand when Avery's dad introduced us.

With pride, he took us on a tour of the place. Running my hand over some of the tools reminded me of working on cars with my dad—before my mom died, before he lost his job, before everything went to shit.

“So what do you think?” Smiley asked. “Think you'd like working here?”

I didn't have to look at Avery's dad standing there to know my answer. “Yes, sir. I'd love working here. I could start Friday.”

He furrowed a brow that was wrinkled with years. “Graduation is Saturday, isn't it?”

My gut clenched at the reminder. “Yes, sir.”

“Let's make it Monday then. Enjoy your last few days of high school.”

I could have told him that was impossible. School and I didn't get along, but I didn't see the point. I thanked him. He shook my hand again. Then I walked out with Detective Watkins. He wore a suit. I heard a slight creak of leather and knew he wore a gun holstered beneath his jacket. The first time I'd met him he'd been in uniform and had explained all the various notches, loops, compartments, and other aspects of his duty belt. I'd been twelve at the time. Scared. He'd made me feel safe.

“I was hoping we'd have a few minutes to grab a quick cup of coffee,” he said now, “but it's almost time for supper. We should probably head home.”

“About that.” He stopped walking to face me squarely. I cleared my throat. “I appreciate being included in the family time and everything—”

“It was part of our agreement. You're a member of the family. You eat with us, play with us, and have the same curfew as Avery.”

“Yes, sir, but I'm feeling like I can't breathe. I have some school stuff to take care of tonight. You let Avery take care of school stuff, right?”

He studied me a minute, and I wondered if he knew I wasn't being exactly honest about what I wanted to do. “I know it's been an adjustment, but you're right. School comes first. Still, there is a curfew.”

“I won't be late.” It was so strange to have to check in with someone. I watched him get in his car. I straddled my motorcycle, took my time putting on my helmet, and waited a couple of heartbeats until he'd pulled out and was on the street. Then I took off in the direction of the school. Two lights down, when I knew Detective Watkins could no longer see me, I hooked a right and headed to Joe's Pizzeria. It was a popular hangout and they had the best pizza buffet in town.

The parking lot was already crowded when I arrived. I parked in the area designated for motorcycles and headed in. Travel posters with scenes from Italy dotted the walls. Although I didn't think the owner, Joseph McFarland, had ever been to Italy.

“Hey, Fletcher,” Wendy McFarland, his daughter, greeted me. “You here for the buffet?”

We had math together, flirted a little, but had never gotten together. She seemed just a little too nice. She didn't give me a hard time like Avery did. Wasn't sure why it suddenly struck me that I liked the way Avery never cut me any slack.

“Not really.” I glanced around, pointed. “I just need to
talk with somebody.”

She smiled, winked. “Help yourself to a drink if you want. On the house.”

“Thanks, but I won't be here that long.”

I sauntered between the tables until I arrived at one that had three couples sitting at it. Grinning at two girls sitting at a nearby table, I asked, “Can I borrow this chair for a minute?”

One smiled brightly. “Sure. You can join us if you want, Fletcher.”

“Thanks. I just need the chair.” I pulled it out, turned it around, set it beside Scooter Gibson, and straddled it, crossing my arms over the back.

“Hey, Fletch, my man,” Scooter said. “I didn't think you were going to make it. Grab a plate, join us.”

He'd told me earlier in the day that he'd be here this evening. “Just need to talk to you about that bet.”

He gave me a sly smile that made me want to punch him. Had he grinned at Avery like that? “I've got no hard feelings that I lost.”

“I didn't think you did, but there seems to be a misunderstanding. The bet was that Avery Watkins would leave with me.”

He winked. “Yeah, so how was she in the sack?”

Both my hands fisted into tight balls. “She left with me. That's it. Nothing else happened.”

His face dropped like I'd just told him I'd totaled his Corvette. “But when a girl goes with you, something always happens.”

Not always, although I was never going to admit that. I had a strict kiss-and-don't-tell policy. Rumors, what the girls told people, I couldn't control. “Nothing happened with Avery. I need you to make sure people know that or I won't be happy.” I tapped a finger near my bruises. “You don't want to become the other guy.”

He held up both hands. “You don't have to threaten me.”

“You'll fix it?” I asked.

“I'll try, sure, but the ‘nothing happened' rumors don't travel as fast as the ‘something happened' rumors.”

I met the gaze of everyone at the table who had stopped eating to watch and listen with interest. Then my gaze landed back on Scooter as I held between my fingers the twenty he and the others had pooled together to cover the bet. I was going to do whatever it took. “Make it right,” I ordered.

Nodding, he pushed my hand back. “Keep it. You met the literal terms of the bet. I'll do what I can.”

“Thanks.” Standing, I returned the chair to its table and sauntered from the restaurant. He was right: it was always harder to undo the damage. I knew that all too well.

It was strange hearing my footsteps echoing through the hallways. Shadows had begun to fall but it was still light out, would be for another hour or so. I never returned to school after the last bell rang. It was odd being here now. I'd passed two people who were monitoring the hallways and heard a couple of locker doors slam. Then I arrived at Mr. Turner's room.

It was one of the rooms where students could go for math tutoring. There were four tutors, one at each corner. Each one was helping another student. Three of them had their desks arranged so they were facing the person they were explaining things to.

But not Avery. Her desk was right beside Brian Saunders.

Standing just inside the doorway, I watched as Avery explained a problem to him, her finger pointing out one thing and another, her shoulder brushing against his. I didn't want to think about all the nights that I could have been that close to her while she explained things to me.

Because of the way they were facing, I could see the concentration on her face. And more, the passion for what she was teaching. Or was it the act of teaching itself that excited her?

For me, school had always been a chore. Just get the work done, move on. Learn the bare minimum that I needed to get by. I thought about all the times I'd seen
Avery hauling a backpack to and from the parking lot, her shoulders rounded slightly like she was carrying a heavy load. I'd always wondered why she lugged all those books around. It occurred to me that she might not be smart because of her IQ. She might really enjoy learning.

She said something to Brian. He nodded, began making some marks with his pencil. I knew the moment she realized he was going to arrive at the correct answer. Her eyes softened and her lips curled up ever so slightly. I thought about how Brian would feel when he looked up and saw the joy radiating from her face, when he realized he'd gotten it right.

I couldn't stay here. I didn't want to see him grinning at her, see her smile growing even wider, her eyes sparkling even brighter.

I spun on my heel and headed back down the hallway knowing that where Avery was concerned, I seemed capable only of getting it wrong.

“Thanks, Avery,” Wanda Ford said, as she shoved her algebra book into her backpack. “If I can just keep all this straight in my head through tomorrow morning, I might make it.”

“I would say anytime,” I told her, “but we're almost finished with school.”

“Thank God. See you around.” She hurried out through the door.

She was my last student to tutor, and we'd gone a little long because she was struggling with some of the concepts. As I gathered up my things, I wasn't surprised to see Rajesh Nahar standing near the door. We both tutored in this room, and he always walked me out to the parking lot as though he didn't quite trust the building to be completely empty this time of night. I appreciated the way
he watched out for me. We'd been friendly academic rivals through most of our school years.

After turning off the light, he followed me into the hallway and closed the door. I always felt like a lumbering giant next to him because the top of his head didn't quite reach my shoulder. Kendall said I worried about my height too much. Maybe I did. It never seemed to bother Rajesh.

“So do you have your speech written?” I asked.

“Most of it.” Although his parents were from India, he'd been born here. “I'm very grateful for the scholarships that I received for graduating second, but I have to admit that I'm really nervous about speaking in front of everyone.”

“You'll do great,” I assured him. “Although I've heard if you get nervous, you should imagine everyone in their underwear.”

He released a small laugh. “I'm afraid they will be imagining me in my underwear.”

“They won't. Besides, everyone likes you. They want to hear what you have to say.”

He looked askance at me. “Sometimes I wonder if you got an answer or two wrong on an exam just so you wouldn't graduate ahead of me and have to give a speech.”

“I'm not brilliant enough to figure out how to scam the system,” I told him. Then I smiled. “But you're right. I would have if I could have. No speeches for me!”

He laughed loudly and knocked his shoulder against my arm. He was one of the few people with whom I was comfortable talking about my grades and schoolwork. He studied more than I did. Whenever we could, we'd partnered up for projects because we knew neither of us would slack off.

He shoved open the door and held it while I walked out of the building. Then we were heading for the parking lot.

“I know it makes me a geek,” he said, “but I'm going to miss all this.”

“Me too,” I admitted. “But let's keep it our secret. People already think we're geeks.”

The sun was in its final stages of disappearing beyond the horizon; twilight was hovering and would soon give way to darkness. Only a couple of cars remained in the student parking lot. A couple of cars and a motorcycle—parked beside Trooper.

Fletcher was lounging on the hood of my car, his back against the windshield, his ankles crossed.

“Do I need to toss him off your car?” Rajesh asked, and I fought really hard not to laugh. Like little Rajesh could toss buff Fletcher anywhere, although I did appreciate his offer.

“Nah, it's fine,” I told him. “But thanks.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said before heading for his car.

Unable to tear my gaze from Fletcher, I ambled slowly
across the distance separating us, wishing that my heart didn't start pounding like a bass drum. Why did I have to be so aware of him?

“What are you doing here?” I asked when I was near enough that I wouldn't have to shout.

“Wanted to let you know it's fixed.” Holding a package of peanuts, he poured some into his palm and popped them into his mouth.

His words made no sense. I studied him, studied my car. Had it broken down somehow without my knowing? “What's fixed? Trooper?”

Fletcher grinned slightly, at my car's name, I guessed. “No, the rumor. I talked to Scooter, a few of the other guys who were in on the bet. Straightened things out. Or at least it's starting to be straightened out.” More peanuts, a sip of soda.

I was near enough now to make out the plastic bag flattened by his leg as well as the assortment of nuts, pastries, and candies spread over it. “What is all that?”

He shrugged. “I got hungry waiting for you. Went to the convenience store, grabbed a few things.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“There's always tutoring sessions the week of finals. I saw on the list outside the room how late you'd be, so I just decided to wait.” He held up a cupcake. “Want to join me?”

I glanced around. Only one other car now. They'd
be locking up the parking lot soon. I should go. Instead I put my foot on the bumper. Fletcher held out his hand. I slipped mine into it and his fingers closed around it. I felt the strain of his muscles as he pulled me onto the hood. I settled beside him, took the cupcake, bit into it, and hit the creamy filling right off the bat. So good. I licked my lips, turned to find Fletcher staring at me like he'd never seen me before. “You okay?”

“Yeah . . . uh, you really like cupcakes.”

“Oh my God, did I groan when I took a bite?”

“It was more like a moan.”

“Sorry.”

“That's okay.” Taking another sip of his drink, he turned his attention to the sky. It was almost dark now but the lights in the parking lot had come on so we couldn't really see the stars.

“I'm going to miss school,” I said quietly.

“I won't.”

Unlike with Rajesh, Fletcher and I had nothing in common. We were silent for a while. “Why did you sign up for tutoring sessions if you weren't going to come?” I finally asked.

“I didn't. Old man Turner signed me up for them. Didn't think it was any of his business.”

“He's your math teacher. He was trying to help. He wouldn't have signed you up if he hadn't thought you'd
benefit from some extra study.”

“You can't make a person learn what they don't want to learn. I mean, really, when am I ever going to plot the roots or, or . . . complete the square or factor an equation?”

He had a point. “A lot of it is brain exercise, figuring things out.”

“You like that kind of stuff.” He said it like a statement, not a question.

“I enjoy the mental challenge, yes.”

He finished off his peanuts, wadded up the empty package. I expected him to toss it onto the ground. Instead he slipped it into the flattened bag. “I saw you tutoring Brian,” he said quietly. “You like tutoring.”

“I do, yeah. I love that moment when I'm explaining something and the person finally gets it. It's like magic, like seeing a shooting star or a rainbow, this sense of wonder, not really knowing how it happened. Just knowing that it did.” I laughed. “God, I sound like a dork.”

I glanced over to find him watching me again, so intently that I was having a difficult time drawing in breath. He probably thought I was a total idiot, although he seemed fascinated. Still, I needed to put a little distance between us, so I sat up and wrapped my arms around my drawn-up knees. “You're tall. Why didn't you go out for the basketball team?”

“Being in sports takes too much time. You know, practice and games. Coaches have expectations.”

“You might have gotten a scholarship.”

“Do I strike you as someone going to college?”

Looking back over my shoulder, I grinned at him. “That's right. I forgot. You're getting a haircut.”

He laughed. “That's right.” He sobered. “You're tall. Why didn't you play?”

“Would have meant a lot of time away from studying. Grades mattered more to me.”

I heard the putter of a golf cart: the custodian trolling the grounds. He came to a stop in front of my car. “You kids need to leave now,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” I slid off the hood, not surprised that Fletcher was a little slower at it. He really didn't seem to like being ordered around by adults. I wondered how long it would be before he'd had enough of my dad.

The custodian moved on. I unlocked my car. “I'll take the trash.”

He held the bag out to me. I took it but he didn't let go. We were both just standing there holding this stupid crumpled plastic filled with garbage, and yet I felt like something else was happening. I just wasn't sure what it was.

He leaned in slightly. “You ever think about doing something you shouldn't?”

“You mean like telling my parents I'm going to one party—that has chaperones—and then going to one that doesn't? Or drinking until I puke?”

“You do that a lot? Tell your parents one thing, then do something else?”

I released a big sigh, not sure why it bothered me that he would be disappointed. I didn't live my life to impress Fletcher Thomas. “No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Yeah, because it worked out so well when I did.”

“Learning curve. You should know all about those, Einstein.”

I didn't know why it didn't sting when he called me that this time. I knew he was mocking my intelligence—or I thought he was. Although the way the word rolled off his tongue didn't really sound like a put-down. It almost sounded like a compliment.

Before I could examine it further, he let go of the bag. “I'll follow you home.”

“You don't have to.”

He gave me a crooked grin. “I'm going that way.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

I got into the car, started it up, and headed out. It was strange, but I'd never thought I could develop a friendship with someone who constantly broke the rules, someone like Fletcher. But whenever we talked, I could almost
forget that he lived for trouble, and that I didn't. I could almost believe that we might become friends.

“You just talked?” Kendall asked.

Shortly after I got home, I walked over to her house. Now I was stretched out on her bed, a mound of pillows at my back, while she sat in a chair, tilted back, her feet on the desk. Her room looked a lot like mine. The summer before we started high school, we'd painted our rooms a light purple with one dark purple wall and bought the same white comforters and curtains. We had the same bulletin board, the same lamps. If we could have convinced our parents to buy us new furniture, we would have had that matching as well. I couldn't remember now why we'd decided that we had to have everything exactly the same.

“Just talked,” I repeated.

“That is so weird,” she said. “I heard Fletcher never
just talks
with girls.”

“I can't decide if I should be hurt or feel special because he only talks with me,” I admitted.

“Feel special, of course. Because you are.”

I smiled. “You are a true best friend to say that.”

“I mean it. You don't want a guy to kiss you just to kiss you. You want it to mean something. Kisses don't mean anything to Fletcher. He hands them out like they're candy on Halloween.”

Licking my lips, I could still taste the sweetness of the cupcake. I sat up and folded my legs beneath me. “Do we really know that?”

It bothered me to think of Fletcher going after girls' lips simply because he was sexy and could. “What if it's all just a rumor, like the one going around about me sleeping with him? People know the kind of person I am, and yet they believed I'd do something that was totally unlike me.”

“But people have seen Fletcher with girls. And we've seen the evidence of the fights he gets into. I'm pretty sure anything we've heard about him is true. But why do you care? You're not starting to like him, are you?”

“He's just a little different than I thought.”

“Yeah, because your dad is riding his ass.”

Was that it? Was he toning down his bad boy image because of my dad? Why did I want him to be doing it because of me?

“I sure would like to know what Fletcher did,” she said, giving me a speculative look. “I bet it was bad.”

“He killed someone,” I deadpanned.

Kendall jerked upright and dropped her feet to the floor. “Get out!”

I laughed at her reaction, then sobered with the realization that she'd actually thought he was capable of something like that. “Of course he didn't. And whatever
he did couldn't have been too bad or Dad wouldn't let him live with us.”

She scowled. “Then why did you say that?”

“I don't know. I guess I've become fascinated with how easily people believe things.” And bothered by it.

“Well, at least the rumors about you are going to stop,” she said.

As soon as I'd walked into her room, I'd told her that Fletcher was taking care of that problem.

“So you can go to the party at the beach with Jeremy and me Saturday night. You won't get hassled.”

A lot of kids were heading to the beach after the ceremony to celebrate that we were finally done. I didn't want to go by myself but I didn't want to be a tagalong either. “I don't know.”

Kendall gave me a pointed look. “You are not staying home the night we graduate.”

“There are other parties.”

“Which one do you want to go to? We don't have to go to the beach.”

I loved that she included me in things she did with Jeremy, but it was difficult to see her cuddling with him while I was standing there wishing someone would snuggle against me like that. But I didn't want to hurt her feelings or make her feel that since she was with Jeremy I didn't want to be around her. She'd tried so hard not to let
him come between us. Friends always came first, she said. Still, there had been a shift in our relationship. I just didn't know how to explain it.

“Let's do the beach,” I said. Surely I could find someone there to hang out with.

“Great. It's going to be a blast.” She leaned forward slightly. “We're going to find someone for you.”