Secret Life (RVHS Secrets) (12 page)

He shifted back, not a step, just a shift of his weight so
he wasn't looming over me quite so much.

I have no idea how I would have answered him, because right
then, the front screen door fell shut and Amy's voice called my name.

I turned my head so I wasn't yelling in Chris's face. “I’ll
be right out.”

Now his hand was on my arm again. Not wrapped around it this
time, but just settled
there
grabbing my attention,
not my person.

“Are we on?
For the week?”

Footsteps started toward the kitchen and I don't know which
one of us wanted them to head the other way more.

“Are we?” he asked.

He was so close. For a flash of a second I was ticked at
Amy. Ticked at her for getting his attention
first,
and now ticked at her for showing up while he was there with
me
.

And then reality crashed in. He was still Chris Kent. And I
was still not dating.
Anyone.
Ever
again.
Or at least until the winter formal.

But especially not him.
I would not
live my life in the judgment-shadow of the one person I loved outside my family
and Amy.

“Yes.” I sounded breathy, like Mrs. Peters had just forced
my gym class to run the 100-yard-dash one hundred times.

He stepped back allowing me to rush past him down the hall.

Amy stood there, her face lightly glistened with sweat and
yet perfect all the same—one of my all-time favorite faces.

“Ready?”

I nodded, worried what we'd find in the driveway. Stepping
out the front door, the drive and the street were clear of
Acuras
,
so that was one more bullet dodged. Now I just needed to get through a fun
night with my best friend.

~*~

The cool night air made me thankful for the long sleeves.
Beside me, Amy
slowed,
her long open runner’s stride
hard to keep up with even at a walk.

“I wanted to talk about some stuff,” she said.

That was never good. It sounded suspiciously like how I
started most of my breakups. Not the one with Jared obviously.

She kept going, either oblivious to my worry or ignoring it.
She was speed-talking, which wasn’t like her. “There’s something going on. I’m
not sure what. I think it has something to do with Chris. But, I think you just
jumped into the Jared thing. So maybe this is Jared stuff. But whatever it is,
you can tell me anything.”

The tears were coming down my cheeks, but I managed to hold
my breath so I didn’t break out sobbing. Hopefully, underneath the lemony-glow
of the streetlights, she wouldn’t notice them slicking my face.

I wanted to tell her everything, but didn’t know how to
start. How to go back four years, explaining that everything she knew about me
was a lie. That the person I’d been pretending to be—even with her, my best
friend—wasn’t even close to the reality of who I was. That, back at my house,
we’d left the boy she’d wanted for six years…and no, he wasn’t as horrible as
I’d been trying to convince her.

All I could do was nod and wish she knew how much that took
out of me.

I guess she couldn’t read that either, because she just
stood there waiting.
Waiting for me to tell her
something—anything.
She could never guess how big everything I was
hiding really was.

“Well?” Her tone was
almost
patient, but it had that hint of annoyance.

“There’s nothing,” I said
,
then felt
the hugeness of the lie.
“Nothing new, really.
Just
school and Jared and
I’m
not sleeping well.”

That was all true. A little part of me was amazingly sad at
becoming the Queen of the Half-Truth.

“Fine.”
She said it with a smile,
but everyone knows
fine
is code for
not-fine-at-all.
“As long as you know
you can tell me anything.”

I nodded again, wishing with all my heart that it was true.

When she saw I wasn’t going to cave, Amy turned us back
toward the house, we’d gone less than a block, but I guess we were done. At the
bottom of my drive, she stopped and looked at me in that the way she does—that
deep way some quiet people have of studying everything around them.

She took my hand for a quick squeeze, some of her patience
struggling to the top again.
“When you’re ready.”

I nodded again, and she smiled her soft-Amy-smile before she
took off at a light jog toward her house. And I loved her so much right then,
her last name might as well have been Wells.

I pushed through the front door, shut it, and leaned back,
resting my head on the thick oak. I let the tears I’d tried to hide slip down
my face, brushing them away with the back of my hand…annoyed and so very sick
of crying when no one could see.

“Rachel.” Chris sat across the foyer on the bottom step
looking up at me. “I was waiting for you guys to get around the corner.”

I nodded. God, I must be an idiot to have nothing to say and
constantly be nodding.

Then he was there beside me. With a quick jerk, he pulled my
keys off the little hook next to the door and thread his other hand through
mine, pulling me outside behind him.

He crossed us behind the Honda and placed me in the
passenger’s seat, shutting the door softly. Before I knew it, we were racing
down the river road, curving along its turns toward the place where the trees
ended at the dead road.

Chapter
13

It was my turn to watch the river race beside us. Chris only
took his hands off the wheel to shift after taking a curve more slowly than I
had the other night.

“Where are we going?” I asked, needing to fill the quiet.

He kept his eyes on the road, didn’t even flick them my way.
“To the bridge.”

I hadn’t realized I wanted to escape there again so much.
That the place held a peace I longed for in all the life-commotion.
That I’d been waiting for another chance to go.

Or, I hadn’t considered going without him.

He edged the car sideways at the end of the dirt road,
letting the lights shine toward the bridge through the tall, rusty fence. The
overhead light came on as he took the keys from the ignition.

I pulled back when Chris’s hand rose toward my face, but
then he reached past me and popped the glove compartment. Who in their right
mind just rifles through someone else’s glove compartment?

He drew out a napkin and handed it to me, pointing to his eye.
It took me a second to realize the tears were still leaking.

I wiped them away and crawled out of the car, heading toward
the pale reflection of the no trespassing sign.

At the gate, Chris’s arm reached past me and held the fence
apart as I squeezed through. I kept going but heard the clatter as he let if
fall shut behind us.

The cooler air drifted up the bank, wafting clouds of mist.
I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped more carefully onto the wooden deck
than last time. At the center, I dropped to the edge and let my legs dangle
over the side as my arms hugged the rail in front of me. I felt Chris settle
near me, his long legs falling beside mine as he lay back on the uneven planks.

I kept thinking I should say something, thank him for
bringing me here—even if it was in my car—and explain the tears.

But, an ex-boyfriend once told me, the only thing guys hate
worse than tears, was talking about tears.

I'm not sure how long we sat there, the moon drifted almost
to the next bank by the time he sat up.

“I know…” He did another one of his famous fadeouts.

It made me really wonder what he knew—or thought he knew. I
was glad one of us was in the knowing of something.

“I know I put you in a tight spot with Amy.”

Part of me, the part who thought she’d known this guy a week
ago, wanted to let slip a snide,
Yeah
. Yeah you have.
But I heard the panic again…and the unsaid stuff too.
The
sorry
and the
thanks.

Also, I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t just keeping the
secret for him
any more
. I was keeping the secret
because this—this quiet understanding—was something I didn’t want to share. And
Amy, she could break this peace by a word or a flash of a moment in the hall
without even thinking about it.
Anything that might call him
back to her if she changed her mind one day.

I didn’t want to share him…as if he were mine to keep. And
he wasn’t. He so wasn’t.

“It’s okay,” was what I finally said. And I meant it. “I get
it. I get not wanting to show certain parts of
yourself
to the world.”

I wasn’t looking at him as I said it.
He
could have nodded or ignored me or even looked at me like I was nuts.
But, after a long minute—after I’d already tried to convince myself I hadn’t
let even that much slip—he answered.

“Yeah.
Not everything is for
everyone.”

And now I was scared to death, because what we’d both almost
admitted was that this—this secret place, not just the bridge itself—was just
for us.

“Ready?”

That was it. He didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t fall into
babbling.
There and back.
When we got to his house, we
switched places—no idea why it didn't dawn on me I should have been driving. At
the driver’s door, I tried to slide by him, tried to keep my head down and just
leave, but his hand wrapped around my arm and skimmed down to my wrist. It
wrapped there, not quite holding my hand.

He angled his head to look me in the eyes. “No more tears.”

I tried to smile, but it probably looked like a stiff
Muppet-mouth grin.
“Nope.”

Pulling my hand away, I dropped into the driver’s seat. The
heat of him still clung to it, oddly embarrassing me. He pushed the driver’s
door shut behind me, double-tapped the roof of the car, and headed inside.

When I got home, my mom was sitting in the living room with
a book I’m not sure she was actually reading resting in her lap. I had no idea
how late it was, how long I'd been gone, but she waved me in and waited till
I’d curled up on the overstuffed chair.

“Rachel, you can't keep disappearing with that boy this late
at night.”

I glanced at the mantel where her grandmother's clock
sat,
surprised to find it was quarter of one.

“You made it clear you don't trust him. If you don't trust
him, I can't trust him. I need to know when you aren't coming right home.” She
gave me a VPL—otherwise known as a Very Pointed Look.
“Especially
on a school night.”

She was right. I couldn't trust him. If the guy who got more
play than the five CDs the school radio station had on rotation hadn't made one
move on me, there could only be three possible reasons:

1. He was being nice to get to Amy.

2. He was being nice till I let my guard down.

3. He was being nice because he could see how screwed up I
was and wanted to stay clear of that mess.

None of those sounded so great. None sounded so trustworthy.
None sounded like a good reason to let my guard down any further...or at all.

“And,” she continued. “You know the rule about your cell
phone. If you’re out, it’s on.”

After the last few years, that was more than fair.
“Got it.”

I trudged upstairs to my room, pushed all the clothes off my
bed and set my alarm clock an extra thirty minutes early to reorganize them
before my shower.

Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with the confessions I knew
were coming.

Chapter
14

Amy was leaning against her locker gazing up at Luke with
little stars in her eyes. It was the perfect reason to keep walking. I stopped
next to my locker, trying not to be too intrusive.

“I'll see you in class.” He kissed her on the forehead and
strode off.

“He kisses more than just your forehead, right?”

Amy blushed so quick you'd think I'd asked if they were
sleeping together. Oh, my God, were they sleeping together? It just seemed
weird that one of us would have done it for the first time without telling the
other one.

I leaned in and whispered. “You guys aren't....”

The confusion that crossed her face while she puzzled out
what they weren't doing was enough to tell me they weren’t.

A big reason I love Amy is she's one of the few people who
could pull off a gasp of outrage because it's sincere.

“No! I mean, we've only been dating a few weeks. That hasn’t
even come up for discussion.”

My world righted just a bit.

“So?” She closed her locker and faced me head on. That was
Amy’s version of really pushy. She’d just politely keep putting the issue back
out there until there was no option but to tell her exactly what she wanted to
know.

“Amy...” I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I'd thought
about it all morning. I'd even written key points on index cards, but it seemed
stupid to whip out little color-coded cards to discuss something with the
person you're closest to in the world.

That's when it smacked me in the face. I was no longer that
person to Amy. She had Luke now.

I'd been usurped.

I'm not sure what happened right then, the look that crossed
my face and what she read in it, but she took my arm and steered me down the
hall toward the admin wing.

“Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

So many things.
So
very
many things.

“Um, yeah.”
I cleared my throat. It
was all
tangley
suddenly. “I know things are changing
with us because of you and Luke, but—”

“No.”

I guess I'd glanced away because I had to swing back to look
at her.

“No,” she said again. “Things will never change between us. He's
not you. There's only one best friend in my life, and I wouldn't cheat on her
with anyone.”

God, I was crying.
Again.
And once
it started it became those racking sobs that make you shake and you couldn’t
hold in. The more I tried to stop, the more I kept crying. Did I cry this much
before the meds? I couldn’t even remember.

Amy's arms came around me and pulled me to her. This should
make it okay. This should have made me strong enough to tell her everything.
But, it just made me more afraid of letting her down.

“I do have stuff I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

The warning bell rang. Five minutes until homeroom. There
wasn't time, this wasn’t the place and I wasn't ready. I think she could see
that, but I still needed to say it. I still needed to do my part.

“It’s a more than an in-the-hallway thing.”

This time, her patience was real. Maybe she could see just
how big what I wasn’t telling her was.

“Okay.” She gave me another squeeze. “Don't forget, we don't
cheat on each other.”

I pulled the fold of my sweater down and wiped my eyes with
it. If she could say that with Luke in the picture, then I could believe we’d
always be okay.

“
Rach
, there is something I want
to ask though.”

And I knew what that was before she even said anything.

“I want you to be careful around Chris…and with him.” She
leaned in as if someone could clear the corner and hear her at any second.
“He's just as fragile as he is unsafe.”

I hated realizing she was right. I hated her for
knowing
that. And, I hated myself more
for caring—even if it was just a tiny-little bit.

~*~

A couple deep breaths and a
note to self
to carry tissues in the future had us back at my
locker. We chatted about the coming weekend and the big soccer game. There were
very few things that could unify all the kids in RVHS, but the whole school
would be at the soccer field come Friday night. That was just the way things
were. Soccer equaled…something that makes everyone equal.

And then, when there was nothing left to say about Soccer
Unification, I stalled. I must have put six layers of
Golddigger
on my lips trying to draw out our locker time.

I was finally pushing my locker shut when I felt the social
tidal wave rush over me and knew we were about to be overtaken by Chris again.

His typical loose gait tightened when he saw Amy and me at
my locker. I doubt anyone else noticed the slight falter in his step. This time
it was him that looked away, busying himself by laughing at his friend’s joke
and looking completely uncomfortable. I turned, leaned on my locker door, and
let him get just to us. I didn't know if he'd look up, if he'd take the chance
on me.

But, as he was about to pass by, his gaze veered and met
mine for an ultra-quick moment.

I didn't even
smile,
I just looked
back and said, “Hey.”

I said it because we were friends.

~*~

Mr. Reed loved me.

There was nothing like practically begging for homework to
make a teacher like him warm up to you. Other teachers—smarter, more aware
teachers—would be questioning your sanity. Not Mr. Reed. He grinned at me like we
were buddies as he handed my pop quiz from the day before to me.

And why shouldn't he? I only got one wrong—from that stupid
chapter Chris and I hadn't gotten to yet.
Figures.

I
glanced
Chris's way as Mr. Reed
made his way down the middle aisle. He flipped Chris's test upside down on his
desk—never a good sign—and said, “See me after class, Mr. Kent.”

Chris nodded and then flipped the test over. I couldn’t help
but notice—hell, the whole class probably noticed—how Chris spun in his chair
to look at me, his eyes big, but his brows creased over them. And then he
turned back, folded the test up and stuck it in his book.

Crap.

Up front, Mr. Reed droned on about the importance of
memorizing the Constitution. I was all for reading the Constitution, but
memorizing it?
Yeah, not so much.
Wonder where he put
that in his planner?
Under A for Anal maybe.

Twenty minutes into class, as I scribbled notes in my
binder—one page for me, one page for “
show
Chris where
this fits”—a note hit my desk. I glanced around to see who it was from, but
everyone
was looking at me. Which meant
it could only be from one person.

Subtlety was wasted on him.

He thinks I cheated.

Wow. He must have done
really
well on the quiz. I’m betting at least a B-, maybe even a straight B.

Everyone was looking to see if I’d respond, waiting to help
pass the note from the freak to the golden-boy.

It was absurd. If I’d wanted to get up and walk it over to
him, the class probably would have caused a diversion they were so curious
about what was going on. Instead, I folded it up and put it in my
specially-for-autumn school tote, and gave him a nod.

Of course I’d back him up.

The minute hand trudged by as if it were on depressants
until the bell finally rang. Everyone leapt from their seats, but then no one
really went anywhere. I’d never seen people pack their stuff up so slowly.

They made that drugged-up minute hand look speedy.

When everyone had given up and taken off, Chris ambled to
the front of the room. Mr. Reed had seated himself behind his desk, straightening
the few things there and looking as
in
charge
as possible.

He continued ignoring Chris and putting together the class
assignments in little binder clips. I had a moment’s envy when I saw his clips
were color-coded. Maybe owning up to that quirk would get us some more brownie
points.

Instead, I bumped Chris to get his attention and whispered,
“How’d you do?”

He slipped the paper out of his book and handed it to me,
looking pleased and miserable at the same time.

92%

Holy
shnickies
.

I ran through the questions to find where he’d lost the
points. The same question I missed plus he messed up the presidential order in
the essay question.

Once again, holy
shnickies
.

“Mr. Reed?”

He finally looked up. “Miss Wells, I’m afraid I don’t have
time right now. I’d be happy to help you with whatever you need after school.”

Yeah, right. I’d just gotten a 97% on his surprise quiz. Did
he really think I was sticking around after school to get help?

“Actually, it’s about Chris’s test.”

Mr. Reed pushed his planner aside and propped his elbows on
the desk,
steepling
his fingers in a very Mr.
Burns-Is-Plotting-Evil kind of way.

“I’m afraid I don’t take academic discussions to the
girlfriend level, Miss Wells.”

Before I could respond, Chris was on that quicker than New
York fashion trends changed. “We’re
not
dating.”

I knew we weren’t dating. I knew we wouldn’t
be
dating. But there was something
hurtful about the force behind his words. The surety that there was no way he’d
ever be interested in laying a hand on me. I tried to get the words out, to
agree with him. But they just wouldn’t come. I pushed the anxiety down…the
comparison I knew Chris was running through his head of every girl he knew
compared to me.

“She’s my tutor,” Chris finished. He looked at me, waiting
for me to back him up. I mean, that was my job.

“You’re tutoring him, Miss Wells?”

Did the man have to end every sentence with my name? I
wanted to throw something at him. I wanted to throw something at both of them.
I wanted to scream and jump around and throw a tantrum until someone, anyone
explained what was so wrong with me that everyone claimed I was normal but no
one wanted me.

Instead, I drew in as deep a breath as my thick throat
allowed and nodded.

“Is this why you wanted to know about the final project?”

They expected me to speak? I’d just been humiliated and they
expected me to talk about class projects?

“Partially.
The charts I’m creating
for tutoring Chris would be a great final project. I also wanted to plan my
time and the tutoring time…if we’re still working together.” I could see
Chris’s hand fist out of the corner of my eye. “This week was kind of a trial
run.”

“So, when Mr. Kent’s grades drop, I’ll know the trial run is
over?”

What’s a girl to say to that?

“Don’t worry, Mr. Reed,” Chris answered. “They won’t drop.”

Mr. Reed gave us a dismissive wave of his hand and what
looked suspiciously like a roll of the eyes over his 1940’s glasses, before
returning to study his ever-precious-planner.

I rushed out the door, not wanting to be late for study hall
two days in a row. Once again, Chris had other plans. He grabbed my arm.

“This isn't a trial run.”

He said it with the same finality he told Mr. Reed I wasn't
his girlfriend.

“That's all I agreed to.” I pulled my arm free and headed
toward the admin wing before calling over my shoulder. “Take it or leave it.”