Keep You From Harm (3 page)

“You’ll have to let me introduce you around. When do you start?”

“Tomorrow.”

He shifts his weight and leans in closer to me. “Did you leave a boyfriend back home, Raielle?”

I tilt my head at him. The way he’s saying my name, like he’s teasing me, is both endearing and annoying. I can’t decide if I want to be genuine with him or shoot him down with sarcasm. The hint of playfulness in his light brown gaze makes me think that he doesn’t take himself too seriously. I go with genuine. “No boyfriend back home. What about you? Have you got a boyfriend?”

He lets out a laugh, pretending I’m joking. When he realizes I’m not, his eyes widen and his mouth drops open before he swiftly closes it.

I immediately realize my mistake. “Oh, sorry.”

He studies me for a minute before clearing his throat and taking a step back.

Now I feel bad. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”

His brow furrows, and he looks like he’s going to deny it, but then he takes a deep breath and asks, “How did you know?”

“I just did,” I shrug. “It probably sounds lame to say some of my best friends are gay, but it’s actually true.” I smile. After realizing that being attractive was a huge handicap in a foster home when the foster dads and foster brothers were often perverts or worse, I started gravitating toward the gay boys. They were generally safer, and if I was lucky, they protected me.

He offers me a lopsided grin that shows his dimples again. “It’s not really common knowledge. My friend Lucas knows. I think my parents might suspect, but I’m not interested in having that conversation with them any time soon.” He shifts his messenger bag and runs a hand through his hair again. “I think we’re going to have to be friends. You know, so you don’t get homesick for your old buddies.”

I look him up and down, pretending to think it over. “Yeah, that sounds all right.”

He grins at me again, a full-on smile this time, and the way it lights up his face makes me feel a little lighter.

I offer him a smile, too, and I take a step back. “It was nice meeting you. I don’t want to make you late or anything.”

“Meet me here at the same time tomorrow. We can walk to school together.”

I agree, and we go our separate ways.

Turns out, Fort Upton’s town center takes less than fifteen minutes to explore. There’s a diner, a dry-cleaner, a drugstore, a couple of real-estate offices, a little gift shop, a town hall, and a town library. That’s it. Feeling disappointed and more than a little claustrophobic, not only is this town landlocked—it’s miniscule, I turn around and head back the way I came.

I carry a paperback copy of
Jayne Eyre
in my backpack. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it. When I move to a new place, I open
Jayne Eyre
and get lost in the story that’s so familiar it feels more like home than any actual home ever has. With an empty day in front of me, and thoughts that I want to keep at bay, the desire to lose myself in its well-worn pages is gnawing at me.

The house is quiet and empty when I return. After a few chapters, I fall back to sleep on the couch. To my surprise, I sleep nearly the entire day away, not stirring until late in the afternoon when Chloe returns with Penelope. It’s a shock, waking up here, glancing around, and being hit by the realization of my situation all over again. I ignore the way my stomach rolls as I take a deep breath and focus on Penelope running in circles through the house with a toy airplane. I sit up and try to ignore the nerves I feel at being here in my brother’s house. I want to do what I’ve done in all my foster homes, stay quiet, keep to myself, and go about my business. But this isn’t a foster home. This is my brother’s home, and I feel like I have more of an obligation here. He’s putting himself out by taking me in. He’s opened his home to me. I should at least pretend to make some kind of an effort. It seems like I owe him and his family that much.

Soon after I wake, Kyle pulls up with a mattress and box spring tied to the top of a truck. He and a couple of his friends carry it into the basement, and the rest of the afternoon is spent organizing my new room.

The basement is a large open rectangular space with low ceilings, plain white walls, and a beige carpet. Penelope’s toys are piled onto shelves on one side of the long room and my bed, along with a dresser and nightstand, are on the other side. There is a half bathroom down here, too. It’s actually one of the nicer bedrooms I’ve had, and I decide to tell Chloe this. Once I do, her eyes light up, and Kyle smiles approvingly at me.

For my first official dinner with the Dean family, Chloe makes meatloaf, and we all sit around the kitchen table. Penelope sits in a booster seat and babbles throughout the meal about Dora the Explorer and the red dress Chloe bought for her after school today. Family dinners are not something I have much experience with. When I glance up, I see Kyle looking at me. He grins before turning back to his daughter and telling her to finish her milk, which she obediently does. I feel like a tourist as I eat quietly and observe them. Their easy interactions cause a dull ache to form inside my chest. I realize that it hurts to watch them, to see their happy family unit. I thought happy families were a myth. If they weren’t real, I didn’t have to mourn the fact that I never had one. But this one is real, a little too real. I direct my eyes down at my plate and finish my meal quickly so I can be excused. My hasty decision to make an effort getting to know Kyle and his family is going to be more challenging than I expected.

C
hloe
wants to drive me to school. She’s torn between being happy that I already have a friend to walk with and disappointed that she can’t take me herself.

“You look really nice for your first day,” she says encouragingly.

“Thanks,” I say. My first day uniform is my favorite pair of worn low-rise jeans with my clunky brown shoes and a short-sleeved navy sweater that’s not too tight or too loose. I know my legs look miles long in these jeans, and this outfit is perfect for intimidating the girls who might already be gunning for me without being too revealing or slutty in a way that could promote unwelcome attention.

I’m afraid my outfit falls short when Myles walks out of his house and whistles. “You’re gonna knock them dead today, California girl. You definitely do not look like the girls from around here.”

I glance down at my outfit. “The plan was not to call too much attention to myself. Maybe I should go change?”

He winds his arm through mine. “Don’t bother. Unless you’re planning to put a paper bag over yourself, it won’t matter. Besides, I’m going to enjoy being the most envied guy in school.”

“You’re really full of shit, Myles.” I laugh as I reclaim my arm and fall into step beside him.

“I am the most sincere person you will ever meet. By the way, we’re picking up my girlfriend at the next corner.”

I stop walking. “Your what?”

He shrugs. “All superheroes need an alter ego.”

I burst out laughing. “And does your girlfriend realize she’s the Lois Lane to your straight Clark Kent?”

He has the decency to look embarrassed. “It’s all good. She’s a
nice
girl. She took a vow of chastity at her church.”

“Uh-huh,” I mutter, continuing to walk.

He catches right up. “Listen, she doesn’t know…”

“Don’t worry. I told you I wouldn’t say anything and I won’t. It’s none of my business.”

As we approach the corner, a peppy redhead bounds down the steps of a large brick house. “Hey, Myles,” she calls. I notice that her nose is dotted with freckles. The energetic way she moves screams
I’m a cheerleader
. She stops short when she sees me.

“April, this is Raielle. She just moved in next door to me. I told her we’d introduce her around.”

April’s smile falters when Myles says my name. She looks at him. “You mean she’s the one whose mother was…”

“April.” Myles halts her with a look before she can finish her sentence.

Her face heats. “Sorry,” she mumbles at him before turning to me. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” I reply, wondering what she knows about my mother and how many other people know it, too.

April makes a quick recovery and spends the rest of the walk chattering about how great the school is; how friendly everyone is, and how much fun being a cheerleader is. Yes, I guessed right. I do my best to tune her out before my ears start to bleed. Beside me, it looks as though Myles’s eyes have glazed over.

When we arrive at the sprawling glass and concrete high school, Myles points out the main office, and he offers to accompany me while I retrieve my schedule. I wave him off, and thankfully, he doesn’t argue as I continue inside on my own. The office is quiet when I approach an older lady with grey bobbed hair sitting at the desk closest to the door.

“I’m starting here today. I came to pick up my schedule.”

She glances up at me with a friendly smile. “What’s your name?”

“Raielle Blackwood.”

She nods and turns to her computer. “Gwen!” she calls across the office.

A willowy girl stands and approaches us. “Raielle is a new student starting today. Could you show her to her first class?” The woman hands me my schedule and smiles. Just then, the school bell rings in the hallway. She reaches down for another piece of paper and gives that to me, too. “Tardy pass,” she explains.

I glance down at the paper in my hand and see that advanced placement history is my first class followed by advanced calculus and advanced placement English. I’m relieved that the classes I had at my last school seem to be covered here.

“Let me see it.” Gwen extends her hand to me. Now that she’s beside me, I see that her nose is pierced and both her ears are surrounded in piercings. Her blunt nails are polished black to match her wardrobe and her hair. Either she’s the token Goth (every school has one) or she’s part of a larger Goth movement here.

“This way,” she says handing me back my schedule and leading the way out. “The school is just a big rectangle of hallways stacked over four floors,” she explains in a flat, bored voice. The halls are quiet and her words echo softly. “If the classroom number starts with a one, it’s on the first floor. If it starts with a four, it’s on the…” she pauses and eyes me expectantly.

“Fourth floor,” I reply dryly.

She stops in front of a closed door. “This is you. I’ll see you later. I’m in your chemistry class.” Then she walks back the way we came.

I pause in the hallway, take a deep breath, hitch my bag up higher on my shoulder, and then pull open the door. The teacher stops talking and looks at me along with the rest of the full classroom. I ignore the students and keep my eyes trained on the overweight, middle-aged man who is already reaching for the note I have in my hand. As I move, my shoes click loudly in the silence. He takes my pass and tosses it on his desk.

“Take any empty seat,” he says.

I turn and feel curious eyes on me as I zero in on one of the vacant desks in the back. A low whistle sounds as I pass by the first row, followed by the word
hot
not so subtly coughed out on the other side of the room. This results in several giggles. I ignore my second whistle of the day, keep my head high, and move slowly toward the empty desk. Dropping my backpack on the floor, I slide into the seat and give my attention to the teacher.

“Okay, everyone,” he says, “let’s continue.” He begins discussing what I recognize as the Cuban Missile Crisis. I feel heads occasionally turning my way, but I ignore them as I open my notebook and start writing.

When class is over, I shove my books in my bag and glance at my schedule to see that calculus is on the fourth floor. When I glance up, there’s a burly guy standing in the aisle blocking my way.

“Hey, new girl.” He grins at me. “Do you need help finding your next class?”

I’m about to tell him
no thanks
, but the truth is that I could use some directions. “I know it’s on the fourth floor. I just need to find the stairs,” I reply.

“Then I’m at your service.” He extends an arm, allowing me to precede him down the aisle to the doorway. Once I move around him, I see a few guys congregated at the exit who have obviously been watching our exchange. They keep their eyes on me as I approach.

“I’m Tucker,” he says once he’s beside me, “and these asshats need to move out of the way if we want to get you to your next class.”

“Introduce us,” one of them says.

“I haven’t gotten her name yet.” He eyes me expectantly.

“Raielle,” I say, starting to feel sorry that I asked him for help.

“That’s an unusual name,” another guy says. This one is short and kind of doughy looking.

Tucker starts to push through them. “Cool your jets. We don’t want to make Raielle late.”

I smile hesitantly at them and follow him out into the hall.

“The first stairwell is down here.” He points as he’s walking. “What class do you have?”

I glance at my schedule to be sure. “AP calculus.”

He nods. “That’s at the end of the hall on the far corner. I can walk you.”

To my surprise, he grabs my elbow. Instinctively, I pull it away. “I can find it. Thanks.”

He’s taken aback and maybe a little offended, but he quickly recovers. “Yeah. No problem. Just trying to help.”

I attempt to look friendly, trying to offset the awkwardness. “It’s okay. I’ve got it from here.” Then I quickly ascend the stairs, dodging the flow of descending students.

I find my next few classes easily and manage to survive my morning without incident. A few other male students introduce themselves to me and one creepy one just leers at me throughout English. Unless they try to talk to me, I don’t really notice the other people in my classes.

The back of my schedule has a locker number on it with a combination. Before lunch, I make my way to it. As I’m tossing the textbooks I’ve collected inside, a shoulder leans against the locker beside me.

“How’s your first day going, California girl?” Myles asks.

I smile, happy to see a familiar face. “Like a first day.” I shrug.

“Do you have lunch this period?”

“Yeah. But I was hoping to head to the library to get some studying done. Do they let you do that here?”

His eyebrows arch up. “I suppose if someone actually wanted to spend lunchtime in the library, they could.” He watches me as I close my backpack and hoist it up. “How about a little socializing? You know, sitting with me and my friends, maybe making some of your own?”

I briefly wonder if one of his friends is going to be the tall, dark silhouette from the other night. But it doesn’t matter. I have issues that are more pressing. I shake my head. “Another time.”

“Are you telling me that you already have so much work you have to skip lunch?”

I sigh. “It looks that way.” The calculus class here is much more advanced than the class I was taking at home. I need to catch up quickly before I fall even further behind. Besides, I don’t have a lunch to eat. Back home, we were on assistance. As embarrassing as it was, the state of California provided a hot lunch to me at school every day. But today, I don’t have a lunch, and I don’t have any money for one.

Myles narrows his eyes. “Another time, then. I’m going to hold you to that, Raielle.”

Lunch in the library is quiet, and I get enough done that the calculus panic abates. During the next period, I see Gwen in my chemistry class. She doesn’t say hello, but lifts her chin in my direction when she spots me. My last two classes of the day are Latin and art. I breeze through Latin having already taken three years of it, and I use art class to zone out and rest my fried brain.

The school is beginning to clear out, and I’m collecting my books at my locker at the end of the day, when I hear a high-pitched “Excuse me.”

I turn to find a petite stranger scowling at me. Thick blonde bangs frame her face, accentuating her pointy chin, the only facial feature that isn’t obscured by her mane of hair.

“You need to stay away from my boyfriend,” she informs me with a hand on her hip.

My eyes inadvertently dip down to the barely covered cleavage she’s puffing out in my direction. I can feel the few remaining students in the hallway turn to watch us. “No problem,” I reply evenly. Then I begin piling more books into my bag.

“I’m serious,” she bites out.

I exhale loudly and reluctantly give her my attention. “Who is your boyfriend?”

She blinks her disbelief at me. “Tucker Matthews.”

Tucker, of course
. “Like I said, no problem.” I start to turn around again when she grabs my arm to halt me.

Then she gets in my face. “Keep away from him. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah. I think I’ve cracked your code.” I pull my arm from her grip.

“That’s enough, Hailey.”

We both turn in the direction of the deep, unfamiliar voice. I know immediately, it’s him. I recognize the wavy hair, the broad shoulders, and his confident stance. But now I can see his dark blue eyes, and they’re shooting darts at the blonde named Hailey.

“But she’s after Tucker,” Hailey argues.

He angles his head at her. “I seriously doubt that.”

She huffs with frustration. “Everyone saw her flirting with him.”

My eyes widen at this. His glances at me, then turns back to Hailey. “Everyone saw Tucker walking her to the stairs, and then they saw her blowing him off. He’s the one you should be worried about. Not her.”

Hailey’s mouth falls open and I think mine does, too. I wonder how he knows this because he hasn’t been on my radar at all today.

“Were you there, Lucas?” she asks in a small voice.

He nods.

Hailey visibly deflates but she doesn’t apologize. She turns to glare at me one last time. “Tucker is off limits. Don’t forget it,” she warns, before pivoting and stalking away.

“I think you two deserve each other,” I mumble under my breath. Then my eyes return to Lucas who is standing silently, watching me with an unreadable expression. I take in his full lips and the firm set of his square jaw. His hair falls in shiny, chestnut brown waves lifting back from his forehead looking like he just ran his hand through it. He’s so handsome; it’s hard not to stare. He must have girls ogling him constantly, and that thought fills me with a strange disappointment. I felt a connection to him the other night and ever since then his dark image has been lurking in the back of my mind. But now that I see him up close, I realize that it couldn’t have been real. He is not the type of guy who goes for someone like me. Even though he’s not happy with Hailey right now, she’s what guys like him want; popular, aggressive, self-assured, with all her assets on display. He probably goes through them like water.