Somewhere Between Water and Sky (Shattered Things #2) (6 page)

“
No.
”

“
You
’
re a foreign exchange student from Canada who
’
s running from the Mounties.
”

“
Um. No.
”

“
You
’
re part of Olivia Pope
’
s team of gladiators.
”

I blink at Jessa.

“
I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about
…
.
”

Jessa makes a face and looks at Ren.
“
So obviously she doesn
’
t know television. Noted.
”
Her eyes widen.
“
Oh! You
’
re totally running from your Amish community.
”

I sigh.
“
No.
”

Ren snaps his fingers and points.
“
I got it. You
’
re the love child of some has-been actress and you
’
re trying to find your roots.
”

I shake my head.
“
You guys are reaching. Like
…
far out reaching. These don
’
t even make sense.
”

“
But you are running.
”

I pause and Jessa pounces.

“
She paused! She paused. She
’
s running.
”
Her eyes grow in diameter.

“
I
’
m not running. I
’
m very comfortable in my moderately priced hotel room. I don
’
t plan on going anywhere.
”
I hold out my hand.
“
I have a job. I wouldn
’
t have a job if I were running.
”

I swallow, forcing myself to stop explaining. Simple answers are always best. The table goes quiet for a few moments and I finally chance a look up from my french toast to find them both staring at me.

“
Do I have something on my face?
”

Jessa smiles and shakes her head.

“
You
’
re new to California, right?
”

I swallow.

Where is this going?
I think.

“
Um, yeah. I guess you can say that.
”

She laughs, picking up her fork again and waving it around before stabbing her eggs.
“
You
’
re either new to the state or not, Steph. It
’
s not a difficult question.
”

“
I moved here in December.
”

I grimace slightly
—
remembering those weeks of hiding. I spent Christmas holed up in my hotel room, binging on Swiss Miss rolls and watching a marathon of America
’
s Next Top Model. A week later, on New Years
’
Eve, I found two bottles of champagne waiting outside of a room down the hall. I didn
’
t even second guess my impulse of grabbing them and running back to my room.

I drank both of the bottles that night while reading through my journal. In a rage, I shredded every single page and set them on fire in the wastebasket. I decided two things that day: I can set fire to the silence before it sets fire to me, and I
’
d never keep another journal again. My words are too volatile. Too meaningless. The stories once deeply embedded in my bones have been replaced by hollow pieces, ashes of words I thought would stay forever.

Words like
you can trust me.

And
I love you.

And all of the million ways they crashed into hopes and dreams and promises of future.

A future I had to take in my own hands when it collapsed right in front of me.

I blink and realize Ren
’
s hand is waving in front of my face. Blushing, I look back at him and Jessa. Her eyebrows are raised and she has a slight smile.

“
You okay? You went somewhere for a while.
”

“
I
’
m fine.
”

She waves off the waitress, stopping by to see if we need anything else, and looks me in the eye.

“
So, if you just turned 18, and you moved here in December, did you graduate early?
”

“
Um
…”
I can feel my heart rate increasing. The overhead lights suddenly feel really warm on my skin. I shift in my seat, trying to figure out how to answer this question.

Ren coughs and nudges her arm.

“
What?
”
She shrugs and scratches a spot underneath her shoulder.
“
I
’
m just trying to get to know her. She intrigues me.
”

“
I tested out of high school once I moved here.
”

She nods and studies me.

“
Listen. I
’
m trying not to be nosy. But it
’
s kind of ingrained
—
you can thank the sociology lessons my father started giving me when I was five
—
so I apologize for the third degree. But like I said earlier
—
I can tell when someone needs a friend, and you have this neon arrow above your head that
’
s blinking like mad.
”
She lifts her hands to her eyes and flashes her fingers open and closed, signaling the blinking effect. I clench my fists underneath the table. She reaches for her water and takes another sip.

“
Whenever you
’
re ready, I
’
ll be here to listen.
”

I clear my throat.
“
Thanks,
”
I whisper.

“
It
’
s just
…”
Ren rubs the palms of his hands over his face and peeks at me from between his fingers.
“
You aren
’
t in trouble are you, Stephanie? Like
…
this isn
’
t some matter of you running away from something that will find you here?
”

I keep my face neutral and shake my head slightly.

God I hope not.

My voice grows quiet and I look him in the eye.
“
I don
’
t know what you mean, Ren.
”

They exchange a glance and I rub my fingers over the middle of my forehead.

My father
’
s voice breaks through and echoes through my mind.

They don
’
t believe you.

I close my eyes and act like I
’
m stretching a kink out of my neck. I fight to push the voice away and breathe through the fear.

This can
’
t happen here. Not now. Just look them in the eye. Be confident. Smile.

I rest my hands palms up on the table. Ren
’
s attention shoots down toward my fingers and then back up to me. I wait for Jessa to look and then smile.

“
Listen. It
’
s really simple. My parents are kind of deadbeat. I don
’
t know where my mom is
—
my dad
’
s in prison. I skipped town after my brother found a place through foster care because I just couldn
’
t take it anymore.
”

Just give them enough of the truth that they don
’
t question. A dad in prison isn
’
t a big deal. Plenty of people deal with that
—
plenty of people come from fucked up families.

That
’
s when I notice the slight tremor to my hands.

Shit.

I lower them before they notice and place them under my thighs. I need to figure out a way to keep them from shaking so much.

For the moment, they seem satisfied with my explanation. My dad
’
s voice returns, softer than before.
They wouldn
’
t believe you anyway.

I shake my head slightly, enough to catch the questioned gaze of Jessa.

I wave my hand in front of me.
“
I just don
’
t like talking about it.
”
I rummage through my purse and find enough cash to cover my breakfast and tip. Placing it on the table I move to stand, turning my head back toward the table as I check to make sure I have everything.

“
I
’
ll be outside. I need some air.
”

I can hear Jessa whispering to Ren as I walk toward the door. Before I can reach the hostess stand, I feel Jessa
’
s hand on my arm, gently pulling me off to the side. I maneuver my arm out of her grasp and shake my head. Her eyes widen.

“
Oh right. Sorry. Personal space.
”
Her hand grabs a strand of her hair and she begins twirling it around her finger.
“
Listen, Steph. I
’
m sorry. My father says I have this problem with not knowing social graces
—”
she rolls her eyes.
“
I get caught up in the curiosity and become invasive pretty quickly.
”

“
You
’
re pretty invasive.
”

She chuckles.
“
I know.
”

I straighten my shoulders and take a look at my phone. Feeling someone
’
s eyes on me, I look up and see a man at a booth with a woman. She
’
s vacant. Like she
’
s a robot
—
here but not here
—
turning and humoring him with laughs that don
’
t even reach her eyes. He smiles at me, toying with his mimosa glass by twirling it around and resting it on his fingers. The light catches his ruby ring and my heart jumps. He turns back toward the woman, but I keep staring. There
’
s something vaguely familiar about him
—
about that ring. I shake off my unease.

There
’
s no way I would know anyone here. Be realistic, Stephanie.

But I know him. I know I do. I stare at him for a few more seconds and nothing comes.

And then I remember. The bus. This was the douche sitting next to me. My breath quickens and my knees go weak. I grab a nearby booth to gain control.

Surely it
’
s just a coincidence. Surely. Same bus. Same place for brunch. It can happen
…
right?

“
I think Ren is done paying. Are you ready to go?
”
Jessa
’
s voice cracks through the silence and I blink.

“
Oh. Yeah. Sure. Let
’
s go.
”

She studies me for a moment and then follows my gaze to the man eating.

“
Do you know him?
”

“
What? Oh. No. Not really.
”
I wave my hand and start making my way to the door.
“
He just sat next to me on the bus yesterday. Was kind of a douche. It
’
s weird seeing him here.
”

Jessa just nods and follows me out the door, turning around to catch a glance at the booth one more time.