Keep You From Harm (6 page)

I clear my throat and stand. “I have some homework to do. Nice to meet you, Linda. Please tell Alec it was nice to meet him, too.”

She waves a dismissive hand at me. “You can tell him yourself next time. We’ll being seeing plenty of each other now.”

“Goodnight,” I tell everyone. I barely make it down to my room before my eyes burn with guilty tears. I hate that I feel jealous of Penelope and the wonderful family she has. Then I realize that they’re my family, too. At least, they could have been.

I lay down flat on my bed and look up at the ceiling where they’re all still sitting above me. It was so easy to hate my mother when she was drinking. For the past couple of years, I tried really hard not to judge her on her past mistakes. I wanted a fresh start with her as much as she did with me even if I never admitted that to her. I did love her, and I was proud of her sobriety and the effort she was making for me. But now, I find myself slipping back into that place of bitterness and resentment. I don’t want to think about what I could have had, but it’s hard not to when it’s paraded in front of me this way.

I roll over onto my side and stare at Penelope’s toys in the corner of the room. I don’t have any homework left to do, and I don’t bother getting undressed. I just lay there in the dark, trying to extinguish the spark of anger inside me that threatens to catch fire. But I can’t quite manage it.

The last image I have of her won’t be ignored tonight. I keep seeing it, like a movie that’s paused on one scene, never moving backward or forward. I see the blood. I see her vacant stare. I feel the cold nothingness that is her skin when I touch it. I lay there awake, all night, restless and conflicted, thinking too much, until the first muted signs of morning begin to brighten the dark corners of my basement bedroom.

I
’m
a zombie the next day. I’m running on no sleep, and I still feel choked with emotions that I can’t seem to bury. Myles and I walk to school together again. I manage to put on a good face for him. Luckily, once April joins us, I don’t have to participate in the conversation because she happily monopolizes it.

I am vaguely aware of Lucas in my morning classes. He offers me his usual tight half-smile when his gaze lands on me, but much to my relief, he doesn’t try to walk with me again in the hallway. That could be because I don’t answer his grin with one of my own despite the way my pulse kicks up when I see him. I’m just too drained to deal with his silent intensity today.

“I’m going to sit with Gwen in the caf,” I tell Myles when he appears at my locker before lunch.

He wrinkles his brow. “Who?”

“Gwen Westfield. She works in the office. She has black hair and always dresses in black.”

He squints at me. “You know her?”

“You don’t? This school isn’t that big.”

“She just started here last year,” he shrugs. “I never really see her around. Besides, she seems weird.”

“I just started here last week and you were more than happy to befriend me.” Then I have a light bulb moment. “Did Kyle ask you to be friends with me?”

His eyes dart away from mine.

“Oh my god. He did. Didn’t he?”

He holds his hand up. “He didn’t ask me to be friends with you. I decided to do that on my own. He just asked me to introduce you around. To make you feel comfortable.”

I run my hands over my face. “Did he tell you and your friends about my mom and everything that happened? Did that make you feel bad for me or something?”

“Wait a minute,” he says, raising his voice now. “You’ve got it wrong. Kyle only told me that he found out about you a couple of years ago, and because your mom passed away, you were coming here to live with him. Then he asked me to show you around. That’s it. It was Chloe who came by later and gossiped about you and your situation to my mom while April and Lucas were over. That’s how they know about it. I never would have said anything to them. I never would have done more than show you where the front office is at school if I didn’t actually want to be your friend, which I do. Okay?”

I just stare at him. I’m on emotional overload today. I need to get a hold of myself. “Okay,” I finally say. Then I offer him a grin to reinforce it.

“Okay,” he mimics with a quick head nod. “Let’s go eat.”

“But I’m still eating with Gwen.”

He stops walking.

“She’s my friend, too. I want to sit with her. You can join us.”

“Maybe I will,” he says, as though it’s a challenge he needs to meet.

But when we arrive in the cafeteria, April pats the seat beside her and Myles glances at me apologetically.

“Go sit with Lois Lane,” I whisper, pushing him playfully on the shoulder. Then I spot Gwen sitting at a round table in the back with two other people I don’t know. I head in their direction pretending not to notice the eyes at Myles’s table following my progression past them.

“Hey,” I set my Dora lunch bag down beside Gwen.

She smiles up at me, and I notice that under her black sweater, she’s wearing a yellow T-shirt today. She has a little color for a change. That’s interesting. “Raielle, this is Tyler and Lisa.”

Tyler and Lisa practically gape at me when I sit down with them. Tyler has dark shaggy hair that nearly reaches his shoulders. He’s cute in a geeky John Cusack kind of way. Lisa’s head is topped by a cloud of red hair and her skin is mostly freckles. When my eyes meet hers, her cheeks heat. The poor girl looks like little Orphan Annie. They all eye Dora as I withdraw my lunch items, but they don’t comment.

“I have all the
Dexter
episodes on my DVR,” Gwen says to them, obviously continuing a conversation they were having before I arrived. “You should watch the ones you missed. The first season is amazing.” She turns to me. “Have you ever seen
Dexter
?”

I shake my head.

“Seriously? You need to come over, too, then. It’s such an unbelievable show. Michael C. Hall is completely hot in a dangerous psychopath kind of way.”

Since the conversation isn’t really holding my attention, I find my eyes wandering over to another table. Sophie and Kellie are in their same seats. They’re laughing hysterically over something, and I can’t help but think it’s me when I see both their eyes are darting in my direction. Is the fact that I’m sitting at this table so funny? My eyes travel to Lucas whose face is partially hidden behind Jake’s. His attention is on his lunch tray. He doesn’t seem to be participating in any conversation at all.

“Raielle?”

I turn back to Gwen who’s watching me expectantly. “This weekend?” she prompts. “Do you want to come over and have a
Dexter
marathon with us?”

“Um, sure.”

“Cool,” she beams at me.

Across the table, I think I see Lisa gulp.

Eating lunch does nothing to wake me up, and I nearly nod off in chemistry. On the way out, I let Gwen know that I’m walking home with Myles today. After his speech about wanting to be my friend, I decide I should make more of an effort to return the favor.

T
he
endless day is finally over. I’m moving tiredly down the stairs to meet Myles. Hoards of students are passing me in their rush to be free from school when someone brushes hard against my arm. Inside me, the energy starts to build. I stop and grab the railing. My stomach hollows and drops. I clench my abdomen muscles, tamping down on the surge, trying to rein it in. Oblivious to the commotion around me, I sit down while my hand is still gripping the rail. A very sick person just touched me. Their bare arm made contact with mine, and it set the process in motion. The strength with which this is hitting me means whoever it was has an extremely serious illness. Holding in the desire to heal once the energy forms is physically painful. I’m compelled to do it, and when I don’t, it turns on me.

My skin breaks out in a cold sweat, and a wave of nausea rolls through me. All my muscles ache. It feels like I have the flu on steroids. My hands are shaking, and I can’t even think about moving until this passes. This is my own fault. When I’m in control, this doesn’t happen. Lots of people suffer from different ailments. If this happened every time I came into contact with a sick person, I couldn’t function. Today, I’m not in control of my emotions. I’m exhausted, and I let my guard down. Now, I’m paying for it.

I don’t know how long I sit there, waiting for the shakes to pass. Eventually, the stairwell empties and the commotion fades. Everyone is gone. The only sound I hear is my own harsh breathing. Then a door opens and slams shut on the floor above me, echoing in the silence. Someone is descending the stairs. I stand on unsteady legs.

“Raielle?”

I immediately tense. The unmistakable voice saying my name belongs to Lucas. Of course, it would be him that finds me here.

“Are you okay?”

He’s beside me now, hovering over me, trying to see my face, which I’m hiding behind a curtain of hair. I take a deep breath and turn to him, letting my hair fall away. “I’m fine.” I try to smile.

He scrutinizes me, and I can see that he doesn’t believe me. This is the closest I’ve ever been to him. His eyes are only inches from mine, and I decide that they’re the same color as the sky during that brief magical moment after the sun finally drops below the horizon, when the pink and red dissolve away leaving only a dark mix of blue and violet in their wake.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I startle. Lucas startles, too, and wraps a hand around my arm to steady me. The place on my arm he’s touching begins to heat, and I can feel my cheeks starting to burn. I hide behind my hair again as I pull my phone out and study the screen. My hand is too shaky to read the text from Myles, but I can guess what it’s about. Hoping Lucas doesn’t notice that I can’t hold my phone still, I pocket it again.

“Myles is outside waiting for me,” I explain, not meeting his eyes. When I reach down for my bag, I realize he has it.

“I’ll walk you down,” he says gently. His warm hand is loose but firm around my upper arm.

I feel like an idiot as we slowly descend the stairwell together. I should make up an explanation. Tell him I’m getting a cold or something, but I can’t find my voice. I just let him lead me downward, feeling stronger and more at ease with each step. Having him so close to me, helping me, even as it’s becoming less necessary, is mortifying. But it also makes me feel safe and protected in a way that’s unfamiliar. It doesn’t occur to me to reclaim my arm. Even when Myles spots us coming through the door, and he stalks over, looking annoyed, I don’t step away from Lucas.

“I thought you ditched me. I’ve been standing here for almost fifteen minutes. I texted you. Twice.”

I’m about to apologize when Lucas speaks. “It’s my fault. I held her up.” Then he removes his hand from my arm. I’m steady on my feet now, but I immediately feel the loss, and I can’t help smiling at his pun.

Myles cocks a curious eyebrow at Lucas. Then he turns to me. “Let’s go. I need to borrow my mom’s car so I can go buy April a birthday present.”

“Didn’t she say her birthday was yesterday?” Lucas asks.

“Yes,” Myles replies in a clipped tone.

I turn to Lucas to get my bag from him, but he just shoulders it. “I’ll give you both a ride. Come on.” Then he walks toward the parking lot without waiting for a response.

I take a deep breath and try not to ogle Lucas’s impressive backside encased in weathered jeans that hug him in all the right places.

Myles is gearing up to ask me why Lucas delayed me. So, I distract him. “Did you forget April’s birthday?” I ask.

He scowls. “Yeah.”

“Why bother with this?” I ask him.

“What do you mean?” He seems genuinely perplexed.

“I can understand if you’re not ready to announce yourself to the world, but you don’t need a fake girlfriend. Besides, I don’t think you even like April.”

We’re nearly to Lucas’s truck when Myles stops and looks at me. “She’s the one who wanted to go out with me. I figured, why not? I thought that maybe…” He hesitates and looks down at his shoes. “Anyway, by the time I realized she and I weren’t really clicking, I’d let it go on too long. Now there’s no way to break up with her without hurting her feelings.” He shrugs. “It’s senior year anyway. Everyone will go their separate ways soon enough. We’ll grow apart and that will be that.”

I see the sadness in his eyes, and I feel for him. Despite his cavalier attitude, pretending to be someone you’re not can’t be good for you. In my own way, I understand it.

“You two coming?” Lucas calls to us. He’s standing beside the open door of his truck.

Myles walks ahead of me and starts to climb in on the passenger side when Lucas holds out an arm to stop him. “You think I’m holding this door open for you?”

Myles grumbles, pulls opens the back door, and slides inside while I lift myself up onto the front seat and quietly thank Lucas. He nods and places my bag on the floor in front of me.

“What are you going to get her?” I ask as we’re pulling out of the school parking lot.

“Jewelry,” Myles answers.

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a necklace or something,” he says absently.

“Put a lot of thought into this, did you?” I ask.

“Okay, help me out then,” he says with a challenge in his voice. “What do you think she would like? What kind of stuff do you like to get?”

I huff out a sad little laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a birthday present. I can feel Lucas looking at me, wondering what my reaction to Myles’s question means. “I’m kidding, Myles,” I answer quickly. “A necklace sounds like a nice gift.”

Within minutes, we arrive at our street. Myles and I both open our doors. I’m about to jump out and call a thanks over my shoulder to Lucas when his hand touches my shoulder. “Hold up a minute, Raielle.”

“See ya,” Myles yells, already dashing across his yard.

I close my eyes and sigh. Then I sit back onto the seat and look at him. His warm hand still rests on my shoulder. The weight of it is radiating heat down my whole body.

“Do you want to tell me what happened back there on the stairwell?” he asks quietly. His eyes are watching mine.

I don’t even bother scrambling for an excuse. I can’t tell Lucas the truth but for some reason I don’t want to lie to him either. When I don’t answer, he asks another question. “Did someone say something to you or do something?” His eyes harden as his question hangs in the air.

I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that.”

He relaxes slightly, removing his hand from my shoulder and running it through his hair. At least, I think he’s more relaxed. His subtle expressions are tough to read.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he says.

“It’s really no big deal.”

He waits until I’m looking at him before saying, “You can talk to me, you know.”

I bark out a surprised laugh.

“What?” he asks. Then he smiles at me. It’s a genuine smile this time, not his trademark smirk.

I thought he was good-looking before, but when he smiles, he’s devastating. “You’re about as approachable as an iceberg,” I inform him, trying not to stare too hard at his perfect features.

His grin stays in place. “That’s because you’ve been about as friendly as a Rottweiler.”

My eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re comparing me to a dog?”

His smile quickly disappears, and he scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus, no. That’s not what I meant.”

I chuckle softly, liking the sudden appearance of a more human Lucas. “I’m messing with you. I’m not offended. You’re right. I haven’t been very friendly, but you were unfriendly first.”

“So, you were just reacting to me?” he asks with a skeptical look.

His question surprises me. I tense up, not sure how to answer because I’m not just reacting to his gruffness. But I can’t tell him it’s because I feel an attraction to him that I don’t want to feel. I can’t tell him that I have no idea how to deal with my physical reaction to him. I can’t tell him anything close to the truth. When I fail to answer another one of his questions, he tries a different approach. “I know you’re dealing with a lot right now.”

I stiffen even more. He was there at Myles’s house when Chloe spilled the beans about my mother’s death. I just don’t know what beans she spilled exactly.

“So,” he continues, his eyes holding mine, “since I’m most definitely not made of ice, if what happened on the stairs today ever happens again, you can talk to me about it. That’s all I’m saying.”

I blink at him as I realize what he’s thinking. He thinks I had some sort of a panic attack. I laugh ruefully and shake my head. He seems confused by my reaction. He’s being so nice. I’m not sure how to respond to this sweet Lucas. I just know that this Lucas is far more disconcerting and potentially more dangerous for me than the silent brusque one. “Thank you,” I finally say. “I appreciate that.” Then I feel the need to bolt. “Thanks for the ride, too,” I tell him, grabbing my bag, getting ready to jump out.