Stolen Wishes (4 page)

I hated leaving her, but Max’s parents would
shit if they found out about this party, and how else would he
explain a couch left out in the rain?

The feel of a small, cold hand under my
shirt has me spinning around.
Cally.

But it’s not her. It’s Kristen, and she’s
grinning up at me like the cat that ate the canary. “Guess your
little date couldn’t handle partying with the cool kids?”

“What?” I push her hands out from under my
shirt. “What are you talking about?”

Kristen rolls her eyes. “Cally and her
friends left while you were out back with the guys.”

Left?
Shit.
“Where’d she go?”

“Maybe her mom needed help jacking off a
client.”

“Grow up,” I growl. I rush out the front
door and down the steps before Kristen has a chance to say more.
Cally is walking down the sidewalk with the Thompson twins.

For a split second, I’m torn between
following and letting her go. If she doesn’t want to be here, I’m
not going to make her. But the look in her eyes after I licked her
neck has me jogging down the steps after them.

“What’s going on?” I ask when I reach
them.

The twins exchange a look, then turn to
Cally. “Do you want to talk to him?”

She bristles, but nods slowly. “I’ll catch
up.”

The girls nod and cross to the other side of
the street, tossing worried glances over their shoulders as they
walk away.

What the hell did I miss?

***

Cally

“Were you just going to leave without saying
goodbye?” William tucks his hands in his pockets, and there’s
something more reserved about his body language. As
he’s
the
one who’s been hurt here.

I thought William was better, different than
other guys. But what do I know? Just because I’m attracted to him
and he has a sexy smile doesn’t mean I should assume he’s better
than the average horn dog. Heck, maybe that’s why he isn’t worried
about the rumor. How do I know he didn’t start it?

Even as I think the question, I know the
answer. I know he didn’t start the rumor because there’s a goodness
in his eyes that can’t be faked. But is that enough of a reason to
trust him?

I want to erase the last twenty minutes, to
go back to the dance floor when I believed he might actually want
me for me. But I’m not that stupid, and I can’t let myself be.

Suddenly, in the war between my body and
brain, my brain wins. And my brain is furious.

“I’m not a slut.” The words drop like
mini-grenades from my lips, detonating the minute they register
with him and obliterating that invisible pull between us.

“Excuse me?”

I shrug. “I’m not stupid. I know there’s
only one reason a guy like you wants to spend time with a girl like
me, but you have the wrong idea. I’m not like that.”

“A guy…” He draws in a long breath, his jaw
ticking. “A guy like me?”

“Money, good looks, status?” I say, using
Kristen’s words. “But I’m not going to be your easy lay. If that’s
what you’re after, you should go talk to the girls inside. I’m sure
you’ll find some takers.”

He steps back, pain flashing in his eyes. “I
would think that someone who struggles with people’s assumptions
about her would be more careful about making them about
others.”

“What am I supposed to think?”

He looks up at the dark sky and laughs, a
hollow, disappointed sound. The clouds obscure the moonlight and
only the distant streetlight reveals his face.

I feel the icy rain hit my cheeks before I
see it. Then it’s coming down faster, stinging my face as we stare
at each other.

His jaw is hard and he shrugs. “Forget
it.”

My stomach tightens in disappointment. What
did I expect him to do?

“Catch up with your friends before they get
too far,” he mutters. “I don’t like you walking alone in the dark.”
Then he turns and jogs back to the house, and I’m left feeling like
a world-class bitch.

***

William

“You ready to talk about it yet?” Max asks
me as we head to the cafeteria for lunch on Monday.

“Talk about what?” I’ve been in a shit mood
since Saturday night, so I can probably guess.

“Who pissed you off, for starters? Or maybe
why you skipped out on my party so early?”

I feel my jaw go hard at the mention of the
party.

“Ah, so it
is
girl trouble,” he
says.

“You’re worse than a woman. Mind your own
business.”

“Didn’t work out with Cally?”

I scan the notifications on my phone, buying
time while I think of how to reply, how much to share. Cally and I
are from different worlds. There’s a division between the Haves and
Have Nots. Even in a place as small as New Hope—
especially
in a place as small as New Hope. And especially in this school. But
maybe that’s part of the appeal. Maybe I like Cally so much because
she’s outside my typical circle.

“It wasn’t because of what Kristen said to
her, was it?” Max asks. We stop at his locker, and he turns the
dial and yanks it open before shoving some books inside.

I scan the lunchtime crowd gathering in the
space between the cafeteria and the glass enclosure around the
pool. Cally has the same lunch period as me, but she doesn’t always
come down. “What did Kristen say?”

Max shrugs. “You should probably ask Cally.
I wasn’t there so I didn’t hear it, but Ally said Kristen was
feeding Cally shit about you only wanting her for one thing.”

I wince. “And she didn’t say anything?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “She didn’t know
what was up with you and the Fisher girl, so what could she have
said?”

“Nothing is
up
with her. We’re
friends.”

Max grunted. “You looked like a lot more
than friends when your face was buried in her tits.”

“Fuck off.” The suggestion doesn’t carry
much weight when my heart isn’t in it.

“So, you didn’t leave with Cally, I’m
gathering?” He slams his locker shut and we start toward the
cafeteria again.

I sigh. “She took off. Told me there was
only one reason a guy like me would be interested in a girl like
her.” The words have an entirely different meaning now that I know
Kristen was talking shit.

“And you let her go?”

I take a deep breath and stop, leaning
against the wall. I’m not up to eating today, though my football
coach would be on my ass if he knew I was skipping meals. “It was a
bitchy thing to say.”

Max nods. “Can’t argue with you there. But
given her mom’s reputation and what Kristen said to her, you can’t
blame her for being cautious.”

“I guess.”

“Goddamn Kristen,” I grumble, my eyes still
scanning the crowd for Cally. “What was she thinking?”

“Probably that if you were going to be using
someone for sex, she wanted it to be her.”

“Well, she’s already given me that
opportunity. I passed.”

Max shoves his sleeves up his arms. “Damn.
Must be tough to be you.”

I shrug, not about to explain the truth—that
I don’t want to be the guy girls like Kristen pursue so
viciously.

“There are rumors,” Max says, averting his
eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve heard them. Rumors that you paid
Cally to have sex with you.”

I drag my hand over my face. “Yeah. I
know.”

“And if she’s not even talking to you
anymore, it’s only going to fuel the gossip.”

“Do I look like I care about rumors?”

“That’s why you’re better than the rest of
us.” He slaps me on the back and pauses a beat. “You’re not going
to tell me if they’re true, are you?”

My head snaps up. “Cally is not a fucking
prostitute. Jesus.”

“Easy, killer!” He holds up both hands and
shakes his head. “I know you didn’t
pay
her. I’m just
wondering about the other part. But you’re too classy to tell me.
Never mind.”

“We didn’t have sex. She’s not like that.” I
spot that long, dark hair at the entrance to the auditorium. And
Kenny. “Damn it.”

“Good luck with the girl,” Max calls as I
rush away.

“He’s done with you,” Kenny’s saying when I
get close. “I’m just waiting my turn.”

Cally’s arms are wrapped around her middle
and her face has gone pale. “I don’t have sex for money.”

“So you’re trying to say there’s something
between you and the rich boy? Because it’s pretty clear to the rest
of us what you are to him. And when he—”

Kenny doesn’t get to finish, because I’m
spinning him around and slamming him against the wall, my forearm
pressed into his neck. “What’s that you’re saying, Riles?”

Kenny scowls at me. “Thought you were done
with her, man.”

Fuck. No wonder Cally thinks the worst of
me. That’s what everyone is telling her to think.

“You’re lucky I don’t beat the shit out of
you,” I say in his ear.

“Bailey!” I hear the teacher’s voice and
back off Kenny, dropping my arm and releasing him. “What’s going
on?”

“Nothing.” I force a smile. “Just having a
little chat.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” she says, but she
walks away, too sure of my reputation to stop her patrol.

Kenny shakes his head. “She’s not worth it.”
Then he walks away.

When I turn back to Cally, she’s staring at
me. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I guess you’re kind of my knight in
shining armor lately.”

I nod. “No problem.” I start to walk
away.

“William.”

The sound of my name off her lips stops me
in my tracks, and I turn back.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I should
never have believed what that girl told me. You’re a nice guy, and
it didn’t add up. I should’ve known better than to think the
worst.”

She looks so sweet standing there, guilt all
over her features, and my heart is still slamming in my chest from
seeing Kenny bearing down on her like that.

“Let’s put a stop to these rumors,” I say
without thinking. “Go on a date with me this weekend. I won’t let
everyone think I just used you for sex.” Or
worse,
paid her
for it.

“Oh. Um…” She sinks her teeth into her
bottom lip, then nods as her cheeks flame red. “Right. Sure.”

“I’ll pick you up on Friday at six.”

***

Cally

I don’t feel sorry for myself very often.
Maybe I should. My family doesn’t have money, and I’ve never been
able to dress like the kids at school. When I was ten, I had to
quit dance lessons because we couldn’t afford them anymore. I loved
dance more than anything, but I understood quitting was a necessity
so I never cried about it. Never complained.

My dad taught me to be grateful for the
things we do have. A roof over our heads—better than some can say—a
family to come home to, and the free will to dream up and go after
whatever life we want.

But tonight, I’m thinking of William Bailey
and having quite the pity party. I’m thinking about Kenny and his
snickering friends and wondering if a pity date with William is
really going to solve anything. But mostly, I’m just wishing my mom
were different.

She’s at the computer when I head out into
the living room to confront her. Dad bought a bunch of used
components at a sale at the college and pieced together a computer
that’s supposed to be for my school papers, but Mom uses it more
than I do. I don’t know what she does on there. I once told myself
it was work for her business, but I don’t believe that anymore.

“What are you doing?” I step up behind her.
She’s got some sort of realty site pulled up and is looking at
pictures of houses.

“Ever wonder what it would be like to start
over?” Her voice is slurred and I spot the glass next to her. Looks
like orange juice, but Mom doesn’t do OJ without vodka. And she’s
probably taken her pills since she got home. In other words, it’s
four p.m.

“Not really,” I lie. Because I have thought
of it. How could I not? But I don’t want to have some fanciful
conversation with her while she’s like this. I frown at the photos
on the screen. She must be drunk. We could never afford a place
like that.

“I’m going to make it happen,” she says, as
if reading my thoughts. “I’m going to find a way for us to start
over. To live large for once.” She takes in a deep breath, a woozy
smile half curling her lips as she lifts her glass for a drink.

I don’t normally feel sorry for myself and I
don’t normally hate my mother, but right now I’m disgusted with
her.
Just say it
. “Did you give Kenny Riles a hand job?”

Her glass clatters down on the old desk, and
she spins to look at me, blinking. “Who’s Kenny?”

I wither right there. Like a flower shoved
into a dehydrator. Like a star blotted out by the clouds. Not “What
are you talking about?” but “Who?”

“I go to school with Kenny. He said he paid
you twenty bucks for a hand job.”

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth
and chews on it. Her eyes are glassy and she tilts her head to the
side. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he one of my clients?”

I try to laugh but it sounds wild and crazy,
and then suddenly my stomach is crawling into my throat and I can’t
stand it anymore. I rush to the bathroom and throw up.

I squat hunched over the toilet, listening
to the once-comforting sounds of Mom running cold water. My stomach
is empty by the time she places the cool cloth on my neck.

“I have an appointment Friday,” she says.
She hands me a plastic My Little Pony cup filled to the brim with
water. “Can you watch the girls? I think your dad has a
meeting.”

An appointment. She just all but admitted
that she does sexual favors for her clients—though I think she’s
oblivious to what I gleaned from the conversation—and now she wants
me to watch the girls so she can meet with one of them?
Fuck
no.
“I have a date,” I say. “I guess you’ll have to cancel your
appointment.”