Because of You (29 page)

“Can I play you a song?” he asks after a while.

“Yes,” I respond, giddy.

I follow him over to a piano bench. He sits. Adjusts it. I’m leaning against the edge of the piano.

“Don’t laugh. It’s a work in progress.”

I balk. “I’ll do my best,” I say, with a wink.

He bursts out laughing. “Man, I-I like hanging out with you.” His words fall flat, and I wonder what he actually meant to say.

My heart beats rapidly. “I like hanging out with you, too.”

He smiles and closes his eyes. He plays a D and an E with his right hand. Then his left hand comes in. I close my eyes, and listen. It’s a haunting, beautiful melody, and I’m quickly lost in it.

My heart melts when he starts to sing.

Love is like a warrior.

Builds and protects those who let it in.

Like a powerful breeze, it rages and tightens.

Ferocious to the end.

When love and death combine.

It’s a desperate battle.

Because sometimes when you win, you lose.

And sometimes when you lose, you win.

Death is a part of life.

It steals, a creeping dream.

Rips at the hearts of those left behind.

A slithering snake, a striking fiend.

When love and death combine.

It’s a desperate battle.

Because sometimes when you win, you lose.

And sometimes when you lose, you win.

He stops, and I realize I’m breathing heavily.

“It’s not finished.”

I open my eyes. “It’s beautiful.” I swallow. “You’re amazing.”

“So are you,” he replies, pulling me onto the bench with him, kissing me softly. “Thanks,” he whispers.

“For what?” I smile into his lips.

“Letting me be myself.”

I search his face, and realize he was worried I wouldn’t like it. He was self-conscious. I touch his face. “Always.”

He stands suddenly. “I’m famished. You really know how to wear a guy out.”

I laugh and pull open the door. The letters are still scattered on the floor, and my heart lurches in my throat.

Will he regret kissing me after my thievery? I realize I hope he doesn’t regret it, because it was wonderful. He’s wonderful.

I get on my knees and begin picking them up. Kyle is beside me.

“I’m sorry I took them. I know I shouldn’t have. It’s just when I saw they were from you… I wanted to know. You. Read the words you wrote to me.” It’s the only way I know how to explain. Like the way a body thirsts for water, my heart craves his his letters.

He puts a hand over mine. “I get it. You can have them. When I found out you were here, I hoped I’d get an opportunity to give them to you, but I hadn’t found an opportunity. You saved me the trouble.” There’s a light smile on his face. His eyes tell me he wants to say more. I wonder if he’s thinking about my allegations. About his dad.

I’m not sure how to bring that up, and I don’t have to.

“I didn’t know about my dad.” He shakes his head. “I’m—I can’t believe—”

“Don’t, Kyle.” I lean away. This is a touchy subject. Because I know what I saw. Without a doubt. I glance at his face, see the blatant pain. And more. He wants to keep his father’s name clean. Stuart called Kyle’s father a dirty cop. I sense those words hurt Kyle deeply. And I’ve added to it by saying his father killed my parents. But I can’t deny what I saw.

Kyle nods, grinds his teeth, tenses his jaw. The letters are all in a pile and he picks them up, places them in my arms. “We still need to practice later. See you around five?”

My mouth opens like that of a gasping fish. I watch him walk away and think about shouting at him to stop. I wish I could say something, anything to make him stay. Go back to kissing. Having him sing to me. But I can’t find the words.

“Don’t leave,” I finally eke out, but it’s too late. He’s already gone.

Maddie

walk slowly back to my room. Gina isn’t around and I breathe a sigh of relief. Not because I don’t want to see her. Quite the opposite. I really do. But I need to think, spend some time alone with my thoughts. Also, I need to get my ass in gear. I’ve missed a lot of classes.

Before anything else I stuff the letters in the bottom of my garnet bag. It holds my piano recital dress, which is a black cocktail sheath. The material is silk shantung and it’s sleeveless. A dress for all occasions. My aunt spent a lot of money, and I love it. I’ll wear it to the Winter Gala in a few months. Until then it’ll remain in the bag, unused. The letters will be safe there.

I quickly shower and change into jeans and a white t-shirt. Throw on a coat, grab my books, and head to Bitchy Spears’ office. I need to discuss my late assignments and hopefully get an extension. After I speak with her, I’m going to speak with my Biology, Math, and Government teachers. Thanksgiving break is coming up, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to catch up on all my work over the holiday.

Outside the sky is thick gray, heavy with promised moisture. It smells like snow. The hint of white flakes swirling in the air, covering everything with a chilly touch, adds a little jump to my step. I’ve always loved the powdery white stuff. Clumping it into balls and building snowmen. My aunt and uncle have snowmobiles, and since my uncle is the owner of Sugar River’s country club, we take the snowmobiles to the golf course and cruise around for hours. Across acres of open space. My aunt’s favorite pastime is to chase my uncle and me around the course. It’s the one time when I really see her let loose. She’s like a whole other person behind the wheel of her snowmobile. Her helmet even says
Wild Child
along the sides.

I wrap my arms around my light pink jacket. I’ll need to bring my winter coats, boots, hats, and gloves back after break. What I have now soon won’t be enough. Possibly even after today. Because once the snow settles on the wintery Wyoming ground, it’ll stay until late spring.

Ms. Spears’ office is in the Mikesell Building. I’m about to knock on her door when a student bursts out. His face is flushed and he looks like he wants to punch someone. I step back, flustered. He blows past me. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it with that bitch,” he says, his voice a steely whisper.

I blink several times, shocked. But I know he’s right. Since the first day of class she’s made it clear she won’t take any shit.

I peek inside. Ms. Spears is at her desk. Her laptop is open. I knock. She doesn’t look, but says, “Miss Martin. I wondered when you’d show up. Come in.” A cheery smile breaks over her face. It’s too happy. Too sweet. Like thick syrup over pancakes. “Close the door.”

I do. Sick foreboding fills my gut.

“Sit.” She indicates a chair. When I’m situated, she says, “I haven’t seen you in class. What’s going on?” She leans her arms against her desk, waiting expectantly.

I clear my throat, and cross my feet at the ankles. “I was sick,” I respond quietly, looking down, hoping that’s enough, but knowing it isn’t.

She doesn’t respond, and I wonder what she’s thinking. I glance up, and she’s staring, her eyes hooded with interest.

“You must realize I’m not an idiot. You’re on scholarship, which means you know how to work, to study.” She sighs, leans back in her chair. “But I also remember what it’s like to be a freshman in college. It’s like the world is turned on its head. Everything is shiny and new. At least at first. Soon enough, you’ll realize college is cutthroat. Succeeding here will give you a much better chance to succeed in life.” She glances at her computer. Taps some keys. “You have three assignments due immediately. I’ll give you through the break to get them finished and turned in. But you better wow me, and I mean make them spectacular.” She leans forward, her eyebrow raised. “When you think it’s perfect, that’s when you know you’ve begun.” She nods and leans back, finished. “You may go.” She waves one manicured hand at the door.

I’m in shock. Aside from her little speech, I feel like I got off easy. “Th-thank you, Ms. Spears.”

I go over to the door.

“I know what’s going on between you and Mr. Hadley. I hear things.” Mrs. Spears pulls open her top drawer and takes out a tube of lipstick.

My heart is beating fast. Is she saying what I think she is? How can she know what’s going on? That’s private. I’m about to open the door, when she drops the bomb.

“He’s quite remarkable in bed. Knows how to make a woman feel like there’s no one else in the world. But, like his dad, he isn’t good for much else. Be careful.”

I gasp, and turn to her. “What?” It’s all I can get out.

Her arms are crossed, and she has a smirk plastered on her pouty red lips. A wicked gleam in her eyes. “If you repeat what I’ve told you, I’ll deny it and fail you immediately. No amount of pretty piano playing will let you keep your scholarship.” She stands and pats my shoulder. Her features turn melancholy. “I’m telling you this for your own good. Don’t trust him.” Her words are like snake bites. They twist and writhe inside my brain, puncture my heart.

I pull open the door and am about to run.

There’s a man in a suit and sunglasses in my way. He pulls off his glasses and gives me a look, like he knows me.

“S-Sorry,” I say, trying to step around him.

He blocks my path. “I wonder how innocent you really are?” He gives me a sinister smile.

My heart beats faster and a fear creeps down my spine. What is he talking about?

“Let her pass,” Ms. Spears says.

The man glances above me and toward the professor. “Fine.” He points his first and middle finger at his eyes and then points his first finger at me. “I’m watching you.”

I want to ask him why, and what is problem is, but the man steps aside and I take the opportunity to run.