Twist (2 page)

I nodded.

Aunt Charlotte looked at me while she was driving. “Bea, it's okay to ask for things. We want to take care of you.”

A car horn sounded and she reacted too quickly, slamming the brakes and causing us both to jerk forward in our seats. The driver waved his hand in anger.

She chuckled. “I bet there's no road rage in Seattle.”

“Are you kidding? The worst kind. Ever drive with my mom?” We both laughed for a second and then we had another rhino moment; and for the rest of the ride, we were absolutely quiet.

Aunt
Charlotte dropped me at the main entrance, and right after she drove off, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around and there was Luke. His eyes widened as if to say,
Well, here I am
. But then he scrunched his face together. “What's with that sad look again?”

And instantly, I felt better—simply because Luke wanted to be near me.

But who was this guy, and why did he have this effect on me?

As we walked, I listed to one side, dragged down by the weight of the book bag. “Let me carry that for you,” he said. When he touched my shoulder, I felt a thousand magical chords resonate through my body. My cheeks turned to fire, and I thought my hair would melt off my head.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” he asked, with a grin as wide as the Arctic.

“Just . . . Thank you,” I said, barely audible.

“I don't know what it is about you, Bea.” He lifted the book bag as if it were light as air. “Mancha.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. My word for best wave ever.”

“You surf?”

“Of course,” he said. “Mancha.”

I had a silly grin on my face when we headed toward my first class, and within seconds Luke's friends surrounded us. One of them, a boy with curly black hair wearing perfectly ironed corduroy pants, smacked Luke on the chest with the back of his hand. “Did you read that science crap? I fell asleep in the middle of the chapter.”

“
Like it matters, genius,” Luke said, and then he looked at me. “Bea, this is Simon, he's super smart. Don't listen to him when he acts like he's always behind on his homework.”

“Stop,” Simon said, with a touch of modesty.

“No, really. Simon, Tate, and Murphy.” Luke snickered. “My dad says they sound like a law firm.” He took a breath. “Meet, Bea. Also known as Beatrice Malcolm.”

“I didn't know you went to our school,” Simon said.

The warm fuzzies inside of me abruptly vanished and a blanket of dread took over, because I knew what was coming next.

“I've seen your picture on the news, right? Isn't your dad Teddy Malcolm?” Simon asked.

“Audacious,” Tate said. He was the one kid in the group who looked so average I'd never be able to pick him out of a sea of students if it wasn't for the braces that took over his face. “That guy is still on the FBI's Most Wanted list, isn't he?”

All four boys stared at me, waiting. I wanted to run. Instead I said, “I can't talk about that. Can I have my bag? I'm going to class.”

I reached for the strap and my hand touched Luke's. He took hold of my fingers, against my wishes—or so said my mind, but not my body. “I'll walk you,” he whispered, and then he turned to his friends and said, “Later, brainless douche bags. Next time show a little tact.”

A boy who defended me—that made my insides sing, and if only for a nanosecond, I felt like I was in Heaven.

Chapter
3

At my last school, a few boys had followed me around and wanted to do stuff for me, too. But I never felt this glowing awesomeness, or even a bit of delight over their attention, not the way I did with Luke.

My only girlfriend, Amilee, had said, “Maybe you're a lesbian.”

“Not that it matters, but no, I'm not,” I'd answered. “Just because I don't priss up like you do, doesn't mean I like the ladies.”

“It's okay if you are,” she said. I swear she'd batted her eyes at me, flirting! “I mean, the way you like to be one of the guys.”

I'd ignored her. What she didn't understand was these boys had chased me as if they were in some kind of a
trance
.

But I hadn't really talked to Amilee since Mom died. I thought I'd call her later on. Making girlfriends was so hard for me.

“Is this your class?” Luke handed me the book bag when I stopped in front of my homeroom. As I grabbed the strap, he hugged me. “I'm sorry about my sometimes brainless friends.”

I breathed in hard and sharp when I smelled the wonderful soapy aroma that came off of his skin. Before I could even think about it, my arms reached around his waist and I reciprocated with a squeeze. There we were—two strangers hugging as if we'd never see each other again.

When
we separated, Luke had a bewildered look on his face. “I don't know what it is about you, but I'm”—he shook his head and finished with a word that I suspected wasn't his first choice—“speechless.”

“Thank you.” I didn't know what else to say.

“So polite!” He burst out laughing and said, “Lunch—are you early or late?”

“Late.”

He picked me up and twirled me around, bumping me into a few kids. One guy nudged us in passing. “Watch it, Drake!”

When he set me down by the door, a girl with stringy blonde hair and a sucker in her hand glared at us as she passed. Luke's smile disappeared, but his attention quickly returned to me.

“Okay,” I said. “I'll see you later.”

“Wait, wait,” he said. Maybe it was the blue shirt combined with his tan skin and shaggy hair that made his eyes sparkle or just his
way
, but something about his essence had captured me.

When he leaned in and kissed me, his mustache stubble tickled my skin. We kept going until his lips parted slightly and he nibbled on my lower lip, causing a mini explosion in my chest. But then Mr. Cooper, my history teacher interrupted, practically pushing us out of the way so he could get into the classroom.

As the bell sounded, Luke squeezed my hand and took off. He got about a classroom away, then turned around, and running backward through the hall he yelled, “Meet me at the oak tree for lunch, Beatrice!” He pumped his fist as he exited the building.

On
my way to a seat by the window, Mr. Cooper said, “Beatrice, I see you're getting along well at”—he held his fingers up and made quotes—“the Sage.”

A splash of heat filled my face. I'd never hugged and kissed a boy like that, especially one I hardly knew, and never in front of a teacher. “I'm sorry, Mr. Cooper.” I didn't know what else to say so I spilled out the truth. “I got caught up in the moment.”

Mr. Cooper's face relaxed and he looked at me with compassionate eyes—not with a pitying look, but in a genuine way. “Well, just be careful.” And then he paced the front of the room while he taught the class about socialism and Karl Marx.

I was almost interested when he began talking about how the U.S. government, or, in his words, “the powers that be,” believe democracy is for everyone. “We always want to flex our muscles, but what happens to these countries when we pull out?”

I was thinking about Luke, so I didn't hear all of the countries Mr. Cooper mentioned, but he said something about Vietnam and Iran that eventually led to a conversation about nine-eleven.

When the class ended, Mr. Cooper said, “If you need anything, Beatrice, don't hesitate to ask.”

I thanked him, but as I walked away I couldn't help wondering if he had it, too. Was he susceptible to that unnameable trance thing that I didn't want to call a “spell”? That power I seemed to have over boys at times?

Don't be silly. Mr. Cooper's just being nice
.

Right then, sucker girl slammed into me. Only she didn't have that candy in her hand anymore. She whipped her hair around and it caught me in the eye. I moved away and she stayed on me—literally in my space. “What do you want?” I asked.

“
I want you to go back to where you came from, granola girl,” she hissed in my ear.

I turned in the opposite direction and she followed me.

I stopped and asked again, “What do you want?”

“Stay away from my boyfriend,” she said.

But when she put her hand on my arm, I jerked away from her. “Don't touch me. What's your problem?”

“Right now, you are,” she said.

Just then, a girl with a huge barrette in her hair came up behind her. “I have your back, Erica.”

“What, you can't handle your own business?” I snapped. I stepped so close to her that my nose was less than a quarter of an inch away from
her
nose. Something my dad taught me years ago: never back down.

“Look at Miss Skinny Bones. She's got spunk,” the barrette head yelled.

A group of kids surrounded us. “Leave her alone, Erica,” a guy said.

“Yeah, that's not cool. She's new,” another kid yelled. And within seconds the entire group, which was mostly boys, turned on Erica.

“This isn't over, waif.” Erica spun on her toes and her jewelry clanked as she stomped away.

“She's such a drama queen,” someone said.

And then Murphy pulled me along as the crowd disbursed. “Ignore her. She's always had a thing for Luke. He doesn't even talk to her anymore.”

I
started to respond but he stepped up his pace and left me standing there. “Talk to you later. I can't be late for Biology.” Within seconds the bell sounded and everyone but me hurried to class.

Chapter
4

My next teacher, Mrs. Evans didn't even care that I was late for English and I was so not into Shakespeare, so I mentally slipped away and attended my own little pity party.

Why did Dad leave when Mom got sick? I needed him
.

Why didn't I spend more time with Mom during her two years of bliss? She needed me
.

Poor Aunt Charlotte, she only saw her sister during the worst time. No bliss, period
.

Why didn't Mom tell me she was going to die and that the two years was only a pause? I think she knew
.

What did Dad really do to make the FBI Most Wanted list?

Why haven't they caught him?

Will I ever see Dad again? I hope he's careful. He's not a bad person. He just made some bad decisions
.

I hate—

“Ms. Malcolm?” my teacher said and the sudden silence seemed awfully loud.

“Yes?” I responded vaguely.

“Answer the question,” Mrs. Evans' hand rested on the white board and the entire class stared at me.

At my other school, I'd gotten excellent grades and would have never responded as I did to Mrs. Evans. “I don't know,” I said.

I
guess my honesty paid off because Mrs. Evans moved on to the next student, who said something about Shakespeare and male actors playing women's roles during that era. But I couldn't pay attention, instead I thought about lunch, and how long it would take me to find that oak tree. I definitely needed to call Amilee and tell her about Luke. She wasn't going to believe me.

Two more classes until Luke time, now that was something I could wrap my mind around. Finally, the bell sounded, and I was the first one out the door, wishing my next class would hold my interest. But that wasn't to be; more torture, of the mathematical kind this time. Tick, tick, tick . . .

Aha—the oak tree, right outside the cafeteria. Sweet beautiful Luke stood there with his friends. I dug a fingernail into my skin to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

“Hey,” I said.

“Want to go off campus with us for lunch?” he asked.

“Sure,” I answered, as my insides bubbled.

Luke grabbed my hand and led me to Simon's car and I felt as if we'd always been together—all of us. I sat in the middle of the back seat, leaning on Luke, who had his arm around me. The boys chatted about kids at school and treated me as if they'd known me forever.

“Let's blow off the day,” Luke suggested. “I only have two more classes and one of them is study hall.”

Simon said, “I have a chemistry test next period. You can use my car, but you need to remember to come back and pick me up this time.” He wagged his finger at Luke.

“You're on your own, dude.” Murphy and Tate both shook their heads.

Luke
turned to me.

“Absolutely, I'm in,” I said. “My classes are boring. Let's go do something fun.”

After we ate greasy tacos—everyone laughed when I threw out the nearly shredded lunch bag of kale salad that I'd been carrying around all morning—Luke and I dropped the boys off at school and headed to the beach.

“Tell me about you,” I said, as we headed down the coast.

“What do you want to know?” Luke asked.

“Anything.” I leaned my head against his arm and then I popped up and said, “No, wait! Tell me something nobody else knows. Something unique.”

He gave me a mischievous look from the corner of his eye. “I'm almost seventeen and about to graduate from high school early. I have one of the highest IQs in the district, but nobody knows that.”

“Really?”

He laughed. “You asked me. Now you question my answer?”

“Because you're so handsome. IQ and looks don't go together,” I said. “Besides, I get the feeling that somebody else knows that.”

“You're right! More than just looks, ladies and gentlemen, Beatrice has brains, too.”

He pulled into a lot near the pier and parked the car facing the ocean. We stared at the water and I could have sat there forever, mesmerized by the waves—and by him.

“My parents, teachers, and the counselor know,” he said. “Some of my friends suspect I'm a brainiac. But that's about it.”