League of Strays (16 page)

The image occupied my mind for a whopping twenty seconds before my thoughts snapped back to Lawrence. He’d found the perfect excuse to pulverize an enemy.

But that excuse had come from us. No, from me. It was my idea. If it weren’t for me, Dave would be at home right now. He’d still be a creep, but an uninjured creep.

I had to talk to Kade. The League didn’t need to be like this—we only needed each other to be friends, not some vengeful mission. I knew Kade would understand if I told him how much it was starting to bother me.

I pulled a sweatshirt over my pajama top, dabbed on some lip gloss, and popped a breath mint before tiptoeing down the stairs.

The Acura was in the repair shop, so I rummaged through makeup, coupons, and loose change in Mom’s purse until I hit the jackpot—the key to the minivan. Outside, I glanced at the carport and considered my bike. For a millisecond. It was definitely safer to drive a car than to bike in the dark. Sorry, Mom and Dad—this was a rule that required breaking.

The car started up, launching into an Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong CD. I ejected it and inserted the closest thing to cool I could find: Prince. That was as hip as my mother got.

As I backed out of the driveway, the car rocked over a curb. It was another mile or two before I felt comfortable behind the wheel of our giant familymobile.

I pressed down on the accelerator, glancing at the rising speedometer. I didn’t even notice the Highway Patrol car until its blue-and-red strobe lights flashed in the rearview mirror. I slammed on the brakes without thinking. Thankfully, the police car swerved around me, on its way to something more urgent.

I took the parking spot in front of Kade’s apartment as a sign from God, glad that no one was awake to watch my pathetic attempts at parallel parking. In the end, the fat butt of the mini-van stuck out into the street, but it was good enough for one in the morning.

Before I could chicken out, I ran to the building and buzzed apartment number 7. The call was answered by a click of the front door.

Four flights up, Kade’s door was open a crack.

“Hello?” I called out.

His voice floated through the dark room. “Hello, Charlie.”

When my eyes adjusted, I saw him sitting on the floor by the bookcase, the light from a candle climbing up his face. He motioned for me to join him.

Leave now!
my brain ordered.

Don’t be so uptight!
my body said.

I sank to the floor beside him. “Did you hear about Dave Harper?”

“It had nothing to do with us.”

“What do you mean? We made up the lies that—”

“Actions have consequences. And consequences take on a life of their own.” His fingers spread over mine, dwarfing my hand.

“But we started it …”

Kade shook his head. “It was Mark Lawrence’s decision. His responsibility, not ours.”

I tried to read his face in the dim light to see if he believed what he was saying. He looked unruffled, as always.

“So if a drunk driver smashes into someone, causing a chain
reaction accident, then he’s only guilty for the damage to the car in front of him?” I fired out.

It was true: I was my father’s daughter.

The lone dimple on Kade’s cheek seemed to wink at me. “If it works for the insurance company, it works for me.”

“So I guess you’re not losing sleep over this.”

“Not over
that
.” He curved a finger down my exposed ankle. “Would you like some merlot?”

I was about to ask what merlot was, but Kade was already at the kitchen counter, uncorking a bottle of wine.

A piece of paper poked out from under the bookcase. A word at the top, “Recommendation,” caught my eye. Beneath that, a familiar name: “Richard Reid, Principal, Kennedy High School.” I glanced toward the kitchen. Kade was pouring the wine, his back to me. With the heel of my sneaker, I dragged the paper across the floor. The letter was addressed to a Judge Michael D. Lombardi and the Walter Jackson Juvenile Detention Facility.

Kade Garrett Harlin has received three misdemeanors in the …

Something—or someone—had ripped the paper in half, severing the rest of the sentence. The next line read: “Expulsion from Kennedy High, if needed, and possible detainment at …”

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag.” Kade loomed over me. He handed me the glass of wine. “Now you know why Dick Reid’s not my best friend.”

“I didn’t mean to be nosy,” I stammered. “I mean, it’s none of my business …”

Kade clinked his glass against mine. “I don’t want to keep secrets from you, Charlie.”

I took a small sip and decided I officially hated the taste of alcohol.

“I had a few minor scrapes with the law a while ago. Some judge asked Reid for an evaluation, and our beloved principal recommended expulsion from high school at the next hint of trouble. Seems he thinks I’m an excellent candidate for juvenile detention.” He smirked. “My probation officer, Mr. Sterling, was kind enough to leave this in his filing cabinet for me.”

“What kind of scrapes?” I asked.

“Stupid kid stuff. Stealing a golf club on a dare, a sandwich from the grocery store … stuff like that.”

My eyes wandered back to the form. “Alleged assault” and “stalking” and “sociopathic tendencies” leaped off the page. Before I could read more, Kade grabbed it, crumpling it in his fist.

“Mr. Reid thinks you should go to juvenile detention for
shoplifting
?” I asked, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it himself. “Dick has a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to me.”

He threw the balled-up paper toward the kitchen trash can. It rolled behind the refrigerator. “He better watch his back if he’s going to mess with me.”

“Over shoplifting?” I asked again.

“Idle threats,” he muttered.

“But I thought you said he was after Richie?”

He offered me a hand, then pulled me to my feet. “We aren’t
going to waste this lovely evening talking about that asshole, I hope.”

I followed him into the kitchen, merlot in hand. As he opened a cabinet and parted some cans of soup, I poured half the wine down the sink, then put the glass on the counter. He looked over his shoulder, and I smiled, picking it back up.

When I glanced down again, there was a maroon ring on the edge of the white Formica counter. I reached for the paper towels to clean it up. Kade kept his place immaculate, and I wasn’t about to reveal my slobby side.

As I leaned over to ditch the towels in the trash, I saw it. The oversized monitor had a hole in the screen. Its plastic siding, cracked. The keyboard looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. Four letters were completely missing. I gasped out loud and Kade turned around, a battered shoebox in his hands. He eyed the remnants of his MacBook and shrugged. “It was a nice computer while it lasted.”

“What happened to it?” It would have been in better shape if a Mack truck had run over it.

Kade slapped his forehead. “I was supposed to meet a study group at the library, and I was carrying it without the case. Stupid, right? I tripped down the stairs, and it went flying.”

Wow, it must have really flown. Right into a brick wall. “Can’t you get it fixed?”

“Nah, it’s trashed. But it’s OK. My parents will replace it.”

I looked again at the broken MacBook, but this time, it wasn’t the cracks and dents and shattered keyboard that caught my attention. It was the torn piece of paper. The missing section of
a report. The report that was now behind Kade’s refrigerator.

Kade took me by the hand, pulling me away. “I want you to know how much I trust you, Charlie.” He lowered the shoebox to the table and flipped the lid off. “I’ve never shown this to anyone.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. Not even Nora? I wondered.

He slid the box in front of me. Inside was a baseball cap, some jewelry, a pen, and a variety of other items.

“Does any of this look familiar?” he asked.

NEW YORK YANKEES, WORLD CHAMPIONS, 2000
was embroidered across the front of the cap. I’d seen it before. On Dave’s head.

“This is what I call my success box,” he said.

I reached for the lighter. “It’s Zoe’s, isn’t it?”

“I really wanted the burned grade book, but it stunk.”

Suddenly, I had no trouble seeing Kade as a shoplifter.

“You mean, these are from … ?” I hesitated, trying to think of a way to say it.

“Other plans,” he filled in. “It’s like getting souvenirs from the fair.”

I cringed at the analogy. He made it sound like it was fun and games.

“Do you like that?” he asked. For a second, I thought he was referring to my glass of merlot, but when I looked down, I realized I was fingering a gold wedding ring on a chain. The clasp was broken, and the loose ends were tied in a knot.

I dropped it back into the box. “Sure. It’s pretty.”

“Take it,” Kade urged, lifting it back out.

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Whose is it?”

He dangled the necklace over my palm. “Yours.”

I didn’t want something that had been stolen from someone else, even if I didn’t know the owner. But Kade insisted. I slipped it into my pocket. “Thanks.”

His hand rose to my cheek. I felt my blood rush to his touch. Could spontaneous human combustion really happen or was it an urban legend?

“You know what’s amazing about you, Charlie? You don’t even know your potential. Once you find out who you are, you’ll be unstoppable.” He inched closer. I couldn’t wipe the Cheshire Cat grin off my face.

“And, uh, who exactly am I?” I laughed nervously. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. They were slightly parted and flushed. And so close.

Without answering, he led me to the center of the room. My legs went rubbery, as if I’d just finished running a marathon. He let go of my hand, falling back onto his perfectly made bed.

I took a small step backward.

“This is my chair, my sofa, my recliner, and the place I happen to sleep.” He reached back, tucking his head into the curve of his palms, watching me with eyes as deep as a cave.

“Come here, Charlie.”

Standing there, with Kade stretched out in front of me, was making me dizzy. The spinning room seemed to rush up to catch me, and I sat down on the bed, dropping my head into my hands.

“Too much to drink?” he asked with a teasing smile.

I wasn’t drunk, not from the sip of wine I’d had. Kade Harlin was the drug to blame. And worse, he knew it.

“Trust your instincts. You’re safe with me,” he lulled. “Close your eyes.”

His reached up and closed them for me.

“I think I should go,” I said. “Tomorrow—I mean today—is a school day.”

“It’s the weekend. You can sleep in.”

It was Tuesday, but to Kade, the convenient response worked just as well.

All of a sudden his fingers were in my hair. I felt like I was going to melt like the wax dripping down the side of the candle. His hand closed, my hair tied up in his fist. My heart was an explosion of percussion. I hoped he couldn’t hear it, but I didn’t see how that was possible. My eyes were still closed, but I could sense how close he was. Very close. Then his lips settled on my mouth, as soft as I’d imagined them. Shivers rolled through every part of my body as I kissed him back.

It was better than I had imagined. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t think of any reason to stop. Kade was finally kissing me, yet my stomach was in knots—I pulled away from him.

“I’d better go …,” I said.

“But you don’t want to go, do you?” he murmured in my ear.

“I guess not,” I conceded.

His kisses grew in intensity like a hurricane climbing the category scale. “This is going a little too fast,” I said, forcing my eyes open. Kade was smiling at me.

Right now he thinks I’m cute. But it won’t last. I can’t hide behind my inexperience forever.

I took a deep breath and returned the smile. “I only said a
little
…”

He laughed, drawing my head to his chest. I rode the soft ripples of his breath for a long time, until we both fell asleep.

The pale light of dawn crept through the metal blinders. In a complete panic, I did the Limbo under Kade’s arm, yanked my jacket off the chair, and dashed out the door.

In forty-five minutes, Dad would head for work with a briefcase in one hand and a bag lunch in the other. When he discovered Mom’s car missing, he’d dial 911.

I thrust the key into the ignition, and the minivan sputtered to life. Twelve minutes later, I was home. I closed the front door behind me, listening for sounds of life. Nothing. My parents were still asleep. I sagged against the door frame for a moment, then returned the keys to Mom’s purse.

Soon, my radio clock would launch into
The Steve and Lou Show.
A half hour later, a brown paper bag with a pastrami sandwich, five carrot sticks, and mozzarella string cheese would be waiting for me on the pass-through.

Nothing had changed, but everything had.

I got a whiff of something familiar as I crept past the dining room: furniture polish, eucalyptus scent. It smelled earthy, like home. I inhaled deeply until my sense of calm was restored. Then I headed upstairs to get ready for school.