Believe: The Complete Channie Series (194 page)

Jonathan’s world shattered. No one made fun of Franklin’s stutter. No one. Not even hot ex-girlfriends. Did she treat Franklin like this whenever Jonathan wasn’t around? He glanced over his shoulder. Franklin was leaning against a tree with a goofy grin on his face, staring into the fire. If he’d heard Naomi’s mockery, it would have devastated him.

She needed to be taken down a notch or two. And Jonathan knew just how to do it. “Jonathan told me I could have one of his rejects tonight. I was hoping Harleigh would show up, but since she didn’t, I guess you’ll do.” He sighed and grabbed her hand. “Come on. I have a sleeping bag in the back of the Rover.”

Naomi jumped back and hissed like an angry cat. Her friends giggled and snorted behind their hands. She was still spluttering incoherently when Jonathan turned his back on her and walked away. It was time to sneak into the mine, snag a couple of beers, and light up the blunt hidden in his pocket.

When Jonathan came out of the mine, he found Franklin in the middle of a crowd of drunks, chugging beer out of a clear plastic cup. Jonathan should have been happy Frankie was loosening up, but it pissed him off. Franklin was the good twin. He was on track to serve a mission, go to BYU, meet a nice girl, marry her in the temple and start popping out kids as fast as they could make ‘em.

Franklin crushed his empty cup then belched half the alphabet. The idiots around him howled with laughter, but Jonathan didn’t think it was funny. In fact, it killed his buzz. Was he that disgusting of an animal at parties? It was something to think about, but right now, he needed to save Franklin’s sorry ass before he did something really stupid.

By the time Jonathan worked his way through the crowd, Franklin had another cup of beer in his hand.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Jonathan tried to pry Franklin’s fingers off the cup without spilling it all over both of them.

“Oh I don’t think so
Frankie
, I haven’t had nearly enough. In fact I think it’s high time you joined me.” Franklin laughed and punched Jonathan’s shoulder. “
High time
… get it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Jonathan grabbed Franklin’s arm and whispered, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Hey! Tyler,” Franklin leaned back and lifted his hand in the air, index finger extended, as if he were trying to signal a waiter. “Get a brewski for my alter-ego here would ya?”

Jonathan didn’t know what had changed Franklin’s mind about drinking, but he wasn’t about to ruin his immaculate reputation. Besides, Franklin was already plastered, so Jonathan would have to drive them home. “Are you too drunk to remember my vow to never so much as taste alcohol?”

Franklin swayed on his feet. “You need to lighten up. Live a little before you die.”

Jonathan grabbed Franklin’s shoulders to keep him from stumbling into the fire. “How many beers have you had since we got here?”

“Hmm … I’m not shlure.” Frankie turned to Tyler and cocked his head to the side. “How many beers have I drunk…? Drank…? Drink-ded…?”

Tyler held up three fingers and shrugged.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. He would
not
be this plastered after just three beers.

Franklin belched a cloud of beer-scented gas in Jonathan’s face then giggled like a girl.

Jonathan wanted to bitch-slap him until he followed Franklin’s gaze to the crushed cans of nonalcoholic beer hidden in the side pocket of his suede jacket. Wow. This was just an act? Jonathan leaned in and whispered, “You’re not really drunk?”

“Of course not.”

The man deserved an Oscar for his role as
Drunk and Obnoxious Jonathan McKnight.

“
If you spill even one drop of that nasty fake beer on my coat, I’ll kill you.”

Tyler coughed into his fist and said, “Heather’s here.”

The sound of bell-like laughter floated up from the trail.

Franklin froze then started backing away before the girls were even in view. “I’m gonna puke.”

He bolted into the bushes like a frightened deer.

Heather jerked her head back then squinted her eyes and leaned forward. “Was that Franklin McKnight? Is he drunk?”

Shit.
Time to intervene. “H-h-hey H-Heather, I’d like t-to talk to you as s-soon as I m-make sure J-Jonathan’s okay. He’s had a little too m-m-much to drink.”

Jonathan held his breath to make his face turn red and hoped that would convince Heather that she had the boys mixed up. 

“Of course, do you need any help?

Tyler smacked Jonathan on the back “I’ve got it covered. You go talk to Heather while I make sure your drunken brother doesn’t fall down a mine shaft or something.”

“Um … okay.” Jonathan swallowed loudly and rubbed his palms on his jeans as if they were sweaty. Franklin wasn’t the only one with acting ability. “D-do you w-wanna g-g-go somewhere t-to talk?”

Heather lowered her gaze and peeked at him from under thick lashes. She was actually sort of cute. Jonathan grabbed her hand and led her back down the trail, away from the fire and the crowd. He didn’t want an audience in case this blew up in his face, so he waited until they were out of everyone’s line of sight to turn his full attention to Heather.

She stared at their linked hands and grinned. “So … what’s on your mind, Franklin?”

“I… uh… yeah, well… I was w-wondering if you w-would go to H-h-homecoming with me?” Jonathan’s voice cracked when he said ‘me’ but Heather didn’t seem to notice — or maybe she just didn’t care. The way her eyes lit up when she smiled changed her whole face. Why hadn’t he noticed her before? Maybe because she’d never smiled at him. She was more than just cute. She was adorable. And perfect for Franklin.

She stepped forward and put one trembling hand on Jonathan’s chest. “I would love to go with you.”

Jonathan smiled, flashing his dimples.

Heather rose up on her toes and slipped her hand behind his neck and tugged.

Oh, shit. What do I do? If I pull back, it’ll hurt her feelings. But I can’t kiss her. She’s Franklin’s girl.

Heather made the decision for both of them. Jonathan kept his mouth closed and his eyes open. The snap of twig alerted him that someone was close. He pulled away just as Franklin stepped around the bend. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. The look of betrayal in his eyes said it all. He shook his head then stepped off the path, giving Jonathan and Heather a wide berth.

Jonathan grabbed Franklin’s shoulder as he passed. “Wait. I can explain.”

Frankie jerked out of Jonathan’s grasp then ran down the trail.

“Where do you think you’re going?” There was nothing down there but the parking lot. Shit. Frankie was going home. Without him. Jonathan didn’t like leaving Heather alone on the trail, but he needed to straighten things out with Franklin.

She should be fine as long as she went back to the group around the fire.

“Heather, sweetheart, I need you to go back to the party and find your friends. Stay together and stay away from Rich and his group. I need to see what’s up with that crazy brother of mine, but I’ll be right back.”

He’d forgotten to stutter, but Heather just nodded her head and started walking back up the trail.

Jonathan was about halfway to the parking lot when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Two guys were pulling a very drunk girl off the trail into the bushes.
Not cool.
Jonathan had no idea who the guys were, but either they’d heard about the party and decided to crash it or they just stumbled on to it and decided to take advantage of the opportunity — and the intoxicated girl they were half-carrying-half-dragging between them.

Jonathan didn’t know her name, but he’d seen her at school. She was only a freshman. She had no business being at this party.
What sort of perv takes advantage of a drunk kid?

Jonathan gave them the benefit of the doubt for about two seconds. “Where do you guys think you’re going with the jailbait?”

“None of your business, punk.”

Since there were two of them and only one of him, Jonathan struck without warning or mercy. A gut-busting sidekick dropped the strutting peacock on his right to his knees. Before he hit the ground, Jonathan threw a right cross to the jaw of his scrawny companion. It snapped the creep’s head back a good six inches. But it only made him mad. Never judge a book by its cover — or a potential rapist by his size.

The guy danced around with his elbows tucked in and his fists in front of his face like a boxer. He obviously knew how to fight. Jonathan didn’t mess around. He knocked the guy out cold with a round-house kick to the side of his head.

The perv was lucky Jonathan and Franklin had switched identities. If he’d been wearing his hiking boots instead of Franklin’s running shoes, the blow might have killed him.

The girl he’d just rescued was too drunk to walk. Jonathan wanted to get to Franklin, but he couldn’t just leave her lying by the side of the trail. He picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her back to the bonfire. She thanked him by puking down the back of Franklin’s parka.

When he got back to the party, Jonathan lowered the girl to the ground, yanked his arms out of Franklin’s ruined parka and turned it inside out. He used it to position the girls head so she wouldn’t drown in her own puke if she threw up again. He didn’t see Heather, so he grabbed the first half-way sober girl he saw and enlisted her help.

“Hey, Carrie, do you know this chick?”

“Sort of. She’s just a freshman. What’s she doing here?”

“Getting herself raped.”

Carrie’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a little “O” before she frowned.

“A couple of guys were hauling her into the bushes. I roughed ‘em up pretty good, so I don’t think they’re going to be a problem, but can you keep an eye on her? Make sure she doesn’t wander off. I gotta go find my brother.”

Jonathan suddenly felt light-headed as the last of the adrenaline from the fight left his body. He sagged onto the log next to Carrie and grinned when his car keys poked him in the butt. Franklin wasn’t going anywhere without him.

“Sure. But, you might want to find Jonathan before Richard finds you.”

Jonathan had almost forgotten about the whole switched identity thing. “Why?”

Carrie made a sour-lemon face then cocked an eyebrow. “Did you or did you not ask Naomi Huffman to have sex with you in the back of the Rover?”

“Oh.” A sudden headache tightened Jonathan’s scalp. He’d forgotten about that too. What a mess.

“I didn’t ask Naomi to have sex. I only implied it.”

Carrie snickered and nudged his shoulder. “You’re actually pretty funny after a couple of beers. You should drink more often. Anyway… Naomi told everyone that Jonathan put you up to it —told you she was easy or something. She cried on Richard’s shoulder until he got so wound up he wants to kill both of you.”

“Shit. I really fu — messed it up this time.”

Carrie’s eyebrows shot into her hairline.

He’d already tarnished Franklin’s reputation when he put Trisha in her place. Dropping the F-bomb wasn’t going to help. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

When Jonathan leaned forward to stand up, Carrie grabbed his hand. “If you ever get over your crush on Heather Compton, give me a call.”

Jonathan was only about three inches off the log. Carrie’s revelation unbalanced him and he sat back down. “How’d you know about that?”

Carrie snorted and spread her fingers, releasing his hand. “Everyone knows you’ve been crushing on that girl since the day she moved here. You should just tell her, ya know? She likes you too. Or at least she did. She’s pretty pissed off about you propositioning Trisha.

Jonathan swore again, but didn’t bother to apologize this time.

“Like I said, if things don’t work out with Heather, give me a call.”

“Jonathan’s single. Do you want me tell him to give you call?”

“Hell no. I have too much self-respect to go out with that two-timing man-whore.”

Jonathan cringed then tried to hide it behind a shy smile. “Okay then. I guess I better go check on the man-whore
… try to keep him out of trouble.”

Carrie snorted. “Good luck with that.”