Thin White Line (2 page)

Brooke swings open the heavy metal door and doesn’t bother to hold it for me. Luckily, I slide in just before it slams shut behind me.

CHAPTER 2

The school smells as old as it looks, like dirty, nasty tennis shoes and bad body odor. A far cry from Saint Catherine’s which always has a sanitary scent of lemons and window cleaner.

I wrinkle my nose and continue walking down the hall, taking everything in at a glance; the ancient floor beneath my boots, the huge trophy cases full of dusty medals, trophies, and yellowed newspaper articles that look to be from another decade, just before a large door that reads OFFICE spelled out in large black letters.

Brooke reaches for the office door at the same time a guy walks out.

My stomach tightens as blue eyes settle on me.

His shaggy brown hair falls just to the collar of a snug, black t-shirt. Leather bracelets encase both wrists and he’s wearing a Saint Christopher medal around his neck. If this is what Vancouver has to offer in the way of guys, then I’m definitely impressed.

“Hey, Brooke,” he says, holding the door open for me.

“Where the hell were you Saturday night?” Brooke asks, her voice tinged with irritation. Apparently, she isn’t as enamored with the guy as I am. “We waited for you until ten.”

“I was tied up.” He wears a cocky smile, making me wonder if he had literally been tied up. The image coming to mind makes me grin inwardly.

Brooke rolls her eyes. “I bet you were. Maybe next time you’ll consider the three people depending on you rather than your latest piece of ass.”

He puts a hand to his heart. “You wound me. You know how important you are to me.”

“Prove it, instead of being a selfish bastard who thinks with his dick,” she says under her breath.

He laughs, a husky sound that makes the hair on my arms stand on end.

“So, how was practice?” he asks, glancing at me before quickly returning his attention to Brooke.

I straighten my spine. Well, obviously I’m not his type or his gaze would have lingered for more than a second.

“Great. Terry filled in for you...again,” Brooke replies absently as she rifles through her backpack. “And Deklan came up with the chorus to Maneater.”

His eyes narrow. “Really? He didn’t mention it when I spoke to him yesterday.”

“Deklan doesn’t tell you everything.” She lifts a brow. “Are you going to make it to practice on Thursday?”

“Definitely.” He nudges her, a playful smile on his lips that quickly turns to an irresistible pout. “Come on, Brooke. I hate when you’re mad at me.”

She releases a loud sigh. “You are such a pain in the ass, do you know that?”

He shrugs.

“Are you sure you’ll be there?”

“I said I would be.”

“Okay, because if you’re not interested, we could always find a new bass player.”

“I’ll be there. Hand to God.” He puts a hand up and gives her a wink.

“You forget that shit doesn’t work on me,” Brooke says, glancing over at me. I can’t say the same for myself. I’m intrigued.

His gaze follows Brooke’s and this time he checks me out.

My pulse skitters as his blue eyes focus on me.

“You must be Brooke’s cousin.” He makes the word
cousin
sound almost dirty. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Brooke’s told him about me? I can only imagine how that conversation went.
I’m forced to show my cousin around school and befriend her because she has no one else.
I just hope she hasn’t told her friends about my family drama. I’d rather keep my personal life to myself.

“I’m Kenzie,” I say, extending my hand.

Dark brows lift nearly to his hairline. He shakes my hand, his grip strong. “Joshua Ryder.” One side of his mouth lifts in a smile that makes the hair on my arms stand on end. “My friends call me Ryder.”

A rush of excitement ripples through me as his hand tightens around mine. “Am I your friend?” I ask, my voice borderline flirtatious.

“Seriously?” I think I hear Brooke grumble beside me.

My thumb brushes along Ryder’s for a second, over the silver ring he wears. I have no idea what compels me to do that and I hope he doesn’t notice, but I think he does since his lips curve into a wicked grin. Between the arrogant smirk and the way his gaze shifts over me, it’s clear this guy knows exactly what his looks do to women.

Feeling like an idiot, I drop my hand abruptly and try to act as unaffected by him as I can. I glance at Brooke. “I should probably get registered.”

“Yeah, and I should get going,” Ryder tells us. “I’ll see you ladies later. Nice to meet you, Kenzie.”

“You, too!” I resist the urge to give his backside a lingering glance...instead, under my cousin’s drill-sergeant-like stare, I turn away.

Still shaking her head at me, Brooke motions me into the office. “Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds,” she says, stopping at a large, chunky counter that has seen better days.

“Good morning, dear.” Mrs. Reynolds looks over the rims of black-framed glasses which rest on the end of her long nose. I won’t lie. Mrs. Reynolds looks like someone from out of the past with her white hair worn in a severe bun, a pencil skirt, a baby pink cashmere sweater, and a pearl necklace hanging around her wrinkled neck.

She glances at me and her eyes widen. “Ah, yes, and you must be our new student, MacKenzie Parker.”

“MacKenzie’s my cousin,” Brooke offers, standing back with arms over her chest.

Mrs. Reynolds’s brows lift high. “What a surprise. I would have never guessed the two of you were related.”

Brooke smirks, picks up the pencil on the counter, and starts tapping the eraser against the surface.

Mrs. Reynolds gives a tight shake of the head and Brooke immediately stops tapping.

“MacKenzie, my name is Mrs. Reynolds, the school secretary. Welcome to Pacific High School.” She over enunciates each word, reminding me of Sister Alexandria at my all-girls school. The nun had a habit of making everyone feel like an uneducated idiot.

“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds,” I tell her.

Mrs. Reynolds beams at me and turns to get something off a desk.

Brooke makes a snorting sound. I glance at her and she mouths the words, “kiss ass”.

Mrs. Reynolds turns to me. “I’m sure your cousin has told you a little about our school, but if you have any questions, or need help finding your classes, feel free to pop in anytime to ask. I’m always here, except from twelve to twelve-thirty, which is when I have lunch.” She walks to her desk, shuffles through a stack of papers and pulls out a sheet. “I have your schedule here.” She slides the paper across the scratched counter. “The bell is going to ring in about five minutes, so Brooke, will you please see your cousin to Miss Loray’s class?”

Brooke flashes a smile and I remember that smile from when we were kids. “Of course.”

Mrs. Reynolds smiles back, flashing grayish-colored teeth. “Now if you’d like, MacKenzie, we can issue you a Pac Buddy. A Pac Buddy is another student who can be a mentor to—”

“
Kenz
won’t need a Pac Buddy,” Brooke interrupts, swiping my schedule from the counter.

I glance at Brooke, who gives me a
trust me on this one
look.

“MacKenzie can make up her own mind, Brooke,” Mrs. Reynolds replies in a firm voice, smile still in place. “MacKenzie, if you feel that you need a Pac Buddy, just let me know and I’ll make it happen.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“Well, we gotta go, Mrs. Reynolds.” Brooke pulls me towards the door.

We start down the long hallway where other students are filtering in from different doorways. “I think you’ll be happy here once you get settled,” Brooke says. “I know it’s not sunny California, but Washington has its own rare beauty. You’ll grow to appreciate it in time.”

I hope so...“It’s a good move for my mom, so that makes it a good move for me.”

I can only hope my mom’s first day at work with Brooke’s mom will go smoothly and she doesn’t regret the move.

My Aunt Shelley has always been overprotective of my mom and I can’t imagine that changing now.

Brooke keeps talking, but I kind of tune out her voice because students are staring at us. My stomach is in knots and I keep wondering what I will do if everyone hates me. I have never been the new girl before. Back in San Diego, I always felt bad for the new student who was ushered into a room full of strangers, and that was in my private school with small class sizes. Even then, I never went out of my way to make the new girl comfortable, aside from saying hi, and now I’m the new girl.

“I don’t want to sound lame or cliché, but Pacific is a really good school.” Brooke’s sarcastic tone makes me question her sincerity. “And most of the kids are pretty decent.”

“Most, huh?”

She smirks. “If anyone gives you crap, just let me know and I’ll take care of them.”

I have a feeling that once people find out I’m related to Brooke, they won’t mess with me. “Thanks, Brooke.” I smile, grateful she has my back.

Brooke stops before a door with a small window marred by fingerprints. “Well, this is it. Miss Loray is one of my favorite teachers at Pacific, even if she’s a bit intense.”

“Intense in a good way or intense in a bad way?” I ask, taking a step into the room behind Brooke.

Brooke laughs under her breath. “In a good way, although she talks way too much about her significant other. She’s newly engaged and so fucking obnoxious when it comes to talking about the upcoming wedding. I’m so over it.”

The walls of the classroom are filled with colorful artwork and a few posters of classic black-and-white movies. There are five rectangular tables lined up around the edges of the room and each table holds six chairs.

Miss Loray sits in the back of the room behind a dented metal desk. She has wavy, brown, shoulder-length hair that’s going gray and she doesn’t wear any makeup. She definitely has a hippie-chick vibe going on. As Brooke and I approach, she looks up from the papers she’s grading. “Hello, Brooke.” Her dark gaze shifts to me and she stands. She grins and the smile completely transforms her face. “You must be my new student, MacKenzie Parker.  Welcome to my class. Your seat is in the back here.” She points towards a table in the very back, beside the window.

Thank God. I was afraid she would sit me in one of the front tables.

“My father was in the army, so we moved many times. I know how difficult it is to be the new student.” Miss Loray gives me a conspiratorial wink. “I think you’ll like it here. Everyone is friendly; isn’t that right, Brooke?”

“Yes, Miss Loray,” Brooke says in a mocking tone. She’s making fun of me and how I talked to the school secretary. “I gotta bounce.” Brooke rushes for the door. “See ya later, Kenzie.”

The second the door shuts behind her, I feel a surge of panic, but walk to the back row and sit down at the desk. I open my binder and grab a pencil, the task taking far longer than it normally would. I stall for time since students are filtering in the door by the second. I can feel their stares and I hate it. Never in my life have I been so conscious of my appearance...or felt so alone.

By the time the bell rings, there is only one empty chair. Twenty seconds later, Josh Ryder walks into the classroom.

My heart leaps to my throat.

Miss Loray turns towards him and shakes her head. “Mr. Ryder, if this was a job, you would be fired.”

Everyone in the class laughs.

Ryder seems completely unaffected as he gives Miss Loray a heart-melting smile.

Jesus, the man can even make a middle-aged woman blush.

He slides the backpack off and kind of sprawls into the chair, leaning back and yawning. My pulse skitters when he looks right at me, smiles softly, and nods.

The breath in my throat catches, but thankfully, I don’t go into a coughing fit. I nod back and notice the glances sent my way by the girls who sit on either side of me.

I smile inwardly. Vancouver is definitely looking up.

CHAPTER 3

I feel like such a loser as I sit in the cafeteria, completely alone, without anyone going out of their way to welcome me to Pacific High. Well, aside from the group of jocks wearing letterman jackets who keep staring my way and grinning. One makes a crude gesture with his hand and mouth and I quickly look away. His friends laugh…

Dick.

Out of desperation I take my phone from the side pocket of my backpack and check my text messages. There are six from Ange. Every single one asks if I’m doing okay and if I’ve spotted any hot men.

I reply,
Yes & Yes
, adding a smiley face for emphasis. I can hardly wait to tell her about Ryder. He’s the kind of guy we would spend days watching at the skateboard park by the beach. The guy who you watch from a comfortable distance. Who you fantasize about, but never even consider getting involved with because he would break your heart.

Next, I check the weather and frown upon seeing it’s seventy-seven degrees in San Diego. As if I need a reminder that I’m a long way from home. It has been drizzling for the past three hours and I wish I had worn something thicker than a leather jacket.

Nearby, someone clears their throat.

I look up to find the cafeteria aide mean-mugging me. She shakes her head and I immediately power off my phone before shoving it into my backpack.

Part of the school rules includes not using cell phones during school hours, but I don’t care. I need to feel in touch with my old life. I need to feel like I have a friend...aside from my cousin, who will probably drop me as soon as she can. 

Having first period with Ryder had been a great start, but aside from the initial smile and greeting, he hasn’t said a word; instead he seemed completely focused on his pottery project. I spent thirty minutes trying to mold the too hard clay into the beginnings of a mug, and fifteen minutes at the sink trying to get the clay off my hands. I ended up with brownish water stains on my shirt for the trouble.

The smell of pizza wafts up to my nostrils, making my stomach rumble. Pizza probably isn’t the best choice from the limited buffet, especially considering what red sauce does to my stomach, but I need comfort food right now. After all, I’m sitting alone at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, just two tables from where Josh Ryder and his buddies sit, and beside the table of leering jocks who are beginning to really creep me out. I feel like I have a target on my head. As the new girl, I expect people to stare, but seriously?

My heart takes an excited leap when Brooke enters the cafeteria, but she doesn’t spare me a glance. She walks straight to the table where Ryder and his friends are eating lunch. There isn’t another girl at the table. Is my cousin one of those chicks who finds it easier to talk to guys than girls?

I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.

I wish I had the nerve to walk over to the table and take a seat, but I don’t and I won’t. I’m not going to push myself on my cousin. She’s been nice enough to bring me to school and I’m sure she wasn’t exactly thrilled to learn her younger cousin was coming to her high school to begin with. I don’t have the right to push myself into her life any further than that.

If she wants to hang out with me, then she’ll invite me to hang out.

Also, if this morning was any indication of our differences, then the chances that we will connect are pretty slim.

I eat my pizza and watch the group from under lowered lids while doing my best to look less desperate than I feel.

It freaking sucks being the new girl.

“Another one from California. No doubt L.A. with her fake tan and bleach-blonde hair.” says a short brunette to her friends. I notice the group watching me from the lunch line. Ironically, one of them has bleach-blonde hair.

Sure, I have highlights in my golden blonde hair and a bit of color, but the tan is compliments of the California sunshine; not a fake-and-bake tanning bed, thank you very much.

I do my best to let the snide comment roll off my back. The bitchy brunette and her friends now sit at a nearby table, and I’m close enough to hear every word without trying; which makes it obvious that they are the kind of girls who want me to hear them, too.

“And what the hell is she wearing?” the blonde says in a snarky tone.

I shift in my seat and refrain from giving her the finger; no matter how much she deserves it.