October Breezes (2 page)

Then I realized he was speaking.

“What’s with you and Abbott? You going out?”

“Going out?” I repeated. I’m not sure if i t was the question that had jarred me or his using Devin's last name. “Why?

Does this interest you?” I cradled my books tightly in my arms--too tightly. I felt my notebook's spiral wire cut my skin. He stepped toward me, and I wanted to move back but couldn't. He touched my hair and puled a piece of lint free.

“Get to class,” Mr. Dempsey caled out, and we resumed our stride. The hals were emptying out; only a few students bustled past, chattering loudly. Becca Haskins stared at us, frowning resentfuly. She twirled a strand of her long blond hair around a finger while leaning against a locker. Tyler Rutherford stood beside her.

“Wel,” Kelin looked away, almost as though embarrassed. “If the two of you aren’t going out, I thought maybe we could. Nothing major. A movie or something.”

I laughed holowly and shook my head. “What makes you think Devin and I are going out?”

Kelin raised his hand and counted: “One, the way he looks at you. Two, when I see you, you’re usualy with him. Three, the way the two of you were in the park.”

“Nothing happened!” I growled. “He’s my best friend.”

My pen started sliding out of my folder; I snagged it and put it back, ignoring my trembling fingers.

“Oh.” He shifted his weight to the other foot. “It wouldn’t bother him if we went out, would it?” He smiled and winked knowingly.

Why were my fingers trembling?
I kept staring at his eyes, trying to find a color to describe that shade. “Nope,” I said, forcing a smile.

“Then how about a movie tomorrow?” He asked it so casualy, like “Is it going to rain tomorrow?” I wished it
had
been a question about the weather.

My stomach felt holow, and the trembling in my fingers gave way to nervlessness. Why couldn’t I feel them? I almost dropped my books, knowing I’d just caught myself in my own trap.

If I said no, everyone would believe Devin and I were dating. If I said yes, I would be dating a guy I barely knew, a senior who already had coleges interested in him, or rather his ability to throw a footbal. It didn’t matter if he was drop-dead gorgeous, which he was. One bite from the right beautiful snake could prove fatal.

“How about I pick you up at seven?” he asked, brushing his fingers through his short blond hair.

“Sure,” I said, despite Devin’s warning. Kelin walked away and I realized I hadn’t told him my address. “Don’t you need my address?” I caled out.

Kelin turned and grinned. “Nope. I already know.”

The tardy bel rang as I stepped to Mrs. Swanson’s door.

“You’re late, Skye,” she said, frowning. So I’d never been tardy before--there was always a first time. From my desk, I stared at a chalkboard covered with numbers. Who cared if I were tardy? I was stil wondering how Kelin had known my address and what else he knew.

Girls giggled behind me, a n d I turned to find two cheerleaders, Becca's friends, looking at me, laughing. Blushing, I turned around, knowing that whatever they said, I was now the prime subject.

“So you can’t paralel park. No big deal.” Devin said, driving from the highway patrol station. He punched the radio's power button, and rock music filed the air.

“It is, too.” I slouched against the seat, closed my eyes, and tried not to think about my humiliating failure, knowing I would have to retake the driver's exam. “If I had been able to park, I would’ve passed.”

“Yeah, you’ve got two weeks to get it down before you can try again. Hey, Skye?”

I opened my eyes. “What?”

He pointed at McDonald’s golden arches. “I’m starving.

You?”

“No,” I muttered, staring at the Betty Boop bobble dol doing the hoola on his dash. “Humiliation doesn’t do much for my appetite.”

He turned and zipped to the drive-thru window. “Nobody knows you failed, and I won’t tel.”

A voice crackled through the speakers, and Devin quickly ordered. Puling out a few bils, he asked, “Want anything?”

“A driver's license," I snapped, changing songs.

Devin tooled around the corner to pay and pick up--two Big Macs, one large fry, and a soda. I shook my head as he drove and wolfed a burger. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “You know me. I never kid about food.”

You're right,
I thought. The guy could eat fifty times a day and never get ful or fat. Considering Devin's 6'4" height, maybe the food never reached his feet.

While he finished his snack, he drove me home. Both my mother’s car and Warren’s sat in the drive. I gritted my teeth, frowning at Warren’s Stealth.

“New car? A present from your mom?” he teased.

“No,” I replied. “The Mockingbird Man's here. She’s home earlier than usual. That’s Warren’s car,” I whined.

Devin parked behind my mother’s white Accord. I pushed open the door; he made no move to get out. “Aren’t you coming?

Don’t you want to see the Mockingbird Man?”

Devin arched his eyebrows. “Okay,” he finaly replied.

“That way, I guess you can help me with adverbial clauses.” He grabbed his spiral and grammar book.

“You need help, al right,” I quipped. “I just wasn’t thinking of homework.” Together we walked to the front door. I went first, and Devin ambled behind me.

The living room was vacant save for what’s-his-name’s tweed jacket draped over the couch. From the kitchen, I heard laughter--the warm heartiness of his and the equaly happy sound of my mother’s. It halted my steps. How long had it been since my mother had laughed, let alone like that?
Go away!
I thought savagely.
Make it easy and get the hell out like everyone else.

“The kitchen is that way.” Grabbing my shoulders, Devin steered me toward the doorway as he leaned close from behind me.

“Yeah,” I muttered. The smel of burgers cooking wafted across my nostrils. I pushed open the swinging door where my mother stood with the latest “Mr. Wonderful,” talking and laughing, their backs to us--at least until I smacked my books on the table.

Wide-eyed, Devin gingerly set his next to mine.

Mom and “Mr. Wonderful” whirled. “Skye, Devin,” my mom said, waving a spatula as she spoke. “How about a hamburger?”

Devin had once said my mother looked too beautiful to be anybody’s mom, and, at that moment, wearing the most radiant, carefree smile I’d seen in years, he was right. Like me, she wore her hair long, and the natural curl waved her auburn tresses, radiating blonde and red highlights. She must have been a gypsy or a Bohemian at heart, considering the bright clothes she wore. Stil, she knew how to be stylin', and the untamed wardrobe accentuated her hair and features.

Just slightly taler than my mom, Warren stood beside her.

Athletically built, he seemed younger than he probably was, much like Mom, but his blonde hair grayed at the temples. He wore a button-down shirt, a tie, and cotton Dockers. Thin, gold-framed glasses perched high on his nose.

“I’m not hungry,” I snapped and pointed at Devin. “And neither is he. He just demolished two burgers.”

“Good afternoon, Skye.” Warren smiled and extended his hand to Devin. “Devin, is it?” Devin nodded and shook his hand. “Warren--Warren Jacobs.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Devin said, offering a genuine smile. Gritting my teeth, I brushed between them, breaking the handshake.

“Skye,” My mother said, placing the spatula on a spoon holder. “That was realy rude.”

I batted my eyelashes exaggeratedly at Devin and said,

“Oh, excuse ‘moi.”

Devin frowned, but I ignored it and opened the fridge. I bent and puled two sodas from the door and returned to the table.

“Have you started that book yet?” Mr. Wonderful asked , shoving his hands deeply into his pockets. "It's a great story." He glanced at my texts. I smiled, knowing I'd left it in my locker.

“Teenagers can’t read—everyone knows that!” I felt his gaze resting on me, and I shrugged. “No, not yet.” I refused to look at him, even though he expected my attention. I had better things to focus on: algebra, English, and history, to name a few.

“When you do, let me know. I’d like to hear what you think.”

I snorted and opened the can.
Yeah, I’ll just bet you
want to hear a speed-bump daughter's opinions.
I shook my head before forcing myself to look at him. “Oh, sure. I’l be glad to tel you what I think. If you’re stil around.” I took a drink.

"Skye Wiliams!" Mom snapped as she walked to me.

"Shut your mouth," she hissed.

"It's al right," Warren said. He smiled, his eyes softening as he tilted his head slightly. I scrutinized his face, searching for sarcasm, but couldn’t find any. “Sure, Skye. Whenever you’re ready. I’l be here.”

I took a deep breath, grabbed my books, and scurried from the room.
Damn him
, I thought.
Damn him to hell.
I marched into the living room, and Devin folowed as I paced near the sofa.

"That was rude!" he barked, setting his books on the sofa.

Frowning, he watched me pace. "What's wrong with you?"

“Him,” I replied, thumbing toward the kitchen and then snatching his English book. If I hadn’t been trembling so badly, I might not have knocked off his notebook, showering the carpet with papers. Gritting my teeth, I wiled myself to calm down.

“Skye,” Devin said, grabbing my arm. “You can’t find fault with him for breathing.”

"I'm sorry I knocked your stuff over." I flinched and bent over, shoving pages back into his book. My fingers were frantic, and if I stopped moving he'd see me trembling. I felt it throughout my body, wavering in my breath.

"It's no big deal. You've been clumsy your whole life.

Why change now?" He lowered his head, trying to make me look at him. "Warren seems okay.” His forefinger gently rubbed my arm.

“So did my father before he left—him and al the others.

Everybody
seems
okay, but looking beyond that, you find the truth.”

As I put the graded papers back, I saw a chemistry lab paper with his name and Bethany Fields’. I showed it to Devin and smiled.

"Got a hot date?"

Devin flushed and grabbed it. "She's just a friend and lab partner." He took the work and finished shoving it in, but as I watched, I realized he rarely made less than A's.

Jealous, I asked, "Have you ever made a ‘C’ in your life?"

He smiled. "Nope. Teachers like me too much." He feigned interest in re-organizing his notebook. I opened his textbook and flipped through the pages. I shrugged. “So what are you working on again?”

“Getting you to listen,” Devin said through clenched teeth.

“But you’re being stubborn.”

“I’ve got to go with what I’m good at,” I smirked.

Devin stepped behind me and set his hands on my shoulders; his fingers kneaded my skin. “That’s not what you’re the best at, Nicole Skye Wiliams. You used to be so good at trust ing.

You picked me as your best friend, didn’t you?” He puled the book out of my hands and set it on the couch before forcing me to face him. "And I’m stil here."

I leaned against his chest and closed my eyes, surrendering to the security of his arms. Closing my eyes, I listened to his steady heartbeat. My shoulders roled forward slightly, and suddenly I felt like crying. “That was different.”

“Why?” I felt his voice vibrate in his chest as he spoke.

“Because it was always easy with you. You were never anything different than you appeared.” The heater kicked on and blew a few textbook pages.

Devin leaned over and whispered, “Maybe he is, too.” He pressed the bridge of his nose against my forehead.

I puled away. “Yeah, right. I’m not being stubborn, just practical. The minute I get used to him, he’l leave. Everybody does sooner or later.”

“Does that include me?” Devin swalowed hard, and his back stiffened.

I cringed, and wondered.

“You can’t answer that, can you? You may not believe in anyone else, but you stil believe in me.” Devin rested his chin atop my head. His hands covered mine. “Why can’t you give him a chance? What if he’s worth it?”

“I’m not wrong. He’l leave. Soon.”

“And if he doesn’t want to, you’l force him, won’t you?”

he replied, sitting at the coffee table. He took my hand. “Maybe that’s what you want.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.

Devin arched his eyebrows, and his blue eyes stared defiantly. “I’m not. But he might stick around despite your efforts.

Then what are you going to do?”

“Want to bet?” I jerked away and folded my arms across my chest. “I can be the Daughter from Hel. It’s worked so far. I mean, gee, I was so good I got rid of my own father. Imagine that--

just drove him away.” My voice dripped with sarcasm, but I didn’t feel sarcastic, not one bit. I baled my fingers so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

“You had nothing to do with that. It was a choice
he
made

—a lousy one.” He touched my forehead, brushing an errant stray hair from my eyes. “And one day, he’l realize just how lousy a choice he made and he’l come looking for you.” He wiled me to meet his gaze, but I couldn't.

“Right--when Hel freezes over he’l be back.” I retorted.

“I’l get rid of Warren, one way or another—before he gets rid of me.”

"I doubt he's trying to do that. " Devin crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking me, but he looked far more daunting than I felt. “You’ve taken this as a chalenge, haven’t you? Wel, I don’t think Warren is going to make it easy.”

“We’l see,” I said.

* * *

“Skye? It’s for you,” My mother yeled.

I walked into the living room. Picking up the phone, I yeled, “I’ve got it, Mom” as I cradled the receiver against my chest.

I lifted the receiver. “I take it you’re stil struggling with those adverbial clauses?”

“Adverbial clauses?” asked a familiar voice I couldn’t recognize. “Yeah, I’m sure I have trouble with them, but that’s not why I’m caling.”