Unfiltered & Undressed (The Unfiltered Series) (13 page)

“And that’s when he got back with Tess?” I asked, wondering why I even cared. I’d been right not to get involved in their brand of fucked up drama.

“
Got back with Tess
?” Lucas was shaking his head. “I don’t know what you heard, but that’s messed up. Tess isn’t Billy’s
girlfriend
, she’s his
sister
.”

Tess
—Tess from the beach—wasn’t Will’s girlfriend? But that didn’t make sense. So, Will hadn’t been cheating on her when he’d kissed me, when he’d stroked me and put his hands and lips on me…

I put my hand against the wall to steady myself. “That can’t be right.” Zane had told me…Lucas had come back for Tess.

But had he actually said Tess was Will’s girlfriend, or had he only led me to believe that was the case?

“It’s true.” Lucas said. “And Billy didn’t come home right after his accident. In fact, if their mom hadn’t died, he might never have come back at all. But he did the right thing and stepped up. Been workin’ his ass off to take care of her ever since.” He pointed to the board. “Must be in pretty bad shape if he had to sell the board. Needed the cash, I guess.”

Suddenly everything I’d thought about Will was wrong. It was lot to process, and I wasn’t sure where to start. Will had come back here to take care of his sister because she needed him. He’d sold Lucas his surfboard so he could take care of her.

It didn’t really matter, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “How long ago did it happen? His mom dying?”

“Six months. Maybe less. I guess she was sick a long time—some kind of cancer—and never told anyone about it until the very end. They weren’t real close or anything, but Billy probably would’a come back anyway. By the time she died, he’d already blown his knee and gone off the grid. No one could reach him for weeks, and he missed the funeral.” Lucas ran his hand through his spiky hair. “Kinda makes you wanna call your mom, doesn’t it?”

He meant it in general terms, but I actually did want to call my mom right then. Lucas and Tess’s story was tragic, and my vision blurred as I tried to imagine not being there while my mom was sick and dying.

“I gotta go,” I said, waving absently and making a quick escape. I couldn’t hear any more about Will or Tess or sick moms. I’d been excited when I’d gotten up that morning. I had a big day ahead, and hearing Will’s story had seriously put me in a foul mood.

Still, it didn’t stop me from dialing my mom on my way to the rec center, just to say hi.

‡

“Mr. Wall, come out here. You have to see this!” My heart was beating double-time as I propped open the front door and called for my new supervisor. We weren’t exactly in the kind of neighborhood where you left your keys in your car…or a box of brand-new laptops unattended for too long.

Mr. Wall rushed from his office, his face flushed and blotchy, and his eyes bulging. “What is it? Where’s the fire?”

“Hurry!” I nodded toward the parking lot. “No fire, but you won’t believe what just happened.”

He shouldn’t
, I thought, but I prayed I could pull this off. My acting skills were about to be put to the test, and if I played my part right, this performance would be Oscar-worthy.

By the time he reached me, he was sweating, and I worried that if that brief burst of exercise had been that much of a strain, then what I was about to do might cause his heart to actually explode. It didn’t matter though. The kids needed these computers.

“Check it out,” I told him, grabbing his arm and towing him along. “I was just getting out of my car when some guy pulled into the lot and dropped these off.” We reached my car, and the box I’d meticulously packed the night before. Inside were ten laptops, loaded with the latest and greatest in hardware and software. Not only would I teach these kids the fundamentals of computers, I intended to give them the skills to surpass their peers.

Basically, I wanted to turn them into full-on cybergeeks.

Mr. Wall looked into the box and then back at me, his mouth slack. “What do you mean…dropped them off?”

“Look!” I gasped dramatically. “There’s a note!”

He fumbled for the envelope and ripped it open. I waited while he read it, not needing to see it to know what it said:

To Whom It May Concern:

I’ve recently had a run of luck and wanted to pay my good fortune forward. Please accept this donation to your organization. I hope these computers help to teach many children the skills they need in this ever-changing world we live in.

Signed,

Anonymous

I had to force myself not to mouth along with the words as Mr. Wall read it aloud one more time to the staff members inside, even as he gathered them and took credit for finding the box himself.

I didn’t care about any of that. All I cared about was that the kids would have the computers they needed.

It took several hours to get the laptops all up and running, but I enlisted my class for that, showing them how to boot up the computers one at a time. I talked Mr. Wall into giving me the passwords to the wireless routers they used at the center for their main computers, and then the kids learned how to establish connections to those too. I explained each step, even though I knew I was speaking gibberish. Eventually, it would all make sense, and ultimately, I would have played a small part in that for them.

At the end of the day, I was just getting the final computer connected, getting the final bug worked out of the system, when the last of the kids said he had to get going. I’d learned almost all of their names over the hours we’d spent together, and this boy, the one who’d been wearing the tattered blue jeans the first day, was named Jefferson. He lived with his grandmamma, that’s what he’d told me, almost in the same breath he’d admitted that his mom had been in jail since he was a baby and he never knew his dad. It was one of those moments when I realized that what I was doing was bigger than just teaching some kids how to point-and-click.

This was the real reason I’d left Rio Verde. This was how I’d use the skills I’d learned by running my web operation, which I’d never been proud of before but now at least would serve a purpose.

This, right here with these kids…this, I was proud of. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.

LAUREN

Emerson knocked on my bedroom door, but didn’t bother waiting for an answer before she peeked inside. “Lo?” she loud-whispered into the dark.

I would have pretended I was sleeping but I knew it wouldn’t matter. Em didn’t really understand the whole “boundaries” thing. The knocking was just her way of pretending to go along with social norms. “I know you’re awake. That’s the fakest snore I’ve ever heard.” This time she didn’t bother to whisper at all, and I remembered that other thing, the one where Emerson could also tell when someone was trying to blow her off.

“You would know. You’re the house expert on snoring.”

“Wow. Kitty’s got claws.”

I rolled onto my back and sighed. “So I guess I wasn’t really tired?” I asked it like a question, as if Em knew better than I did.

“Not anymore,” she told me. “Only grandmas and farmers go to bed this early, and last I checked we’re not in Kansas anymore. Besides, this came for you.” She held up a dress—
my yellow dress
, to be precise—wrapped in clear plastic, fresh from the dry cleaner. “Will dropped it off.” Her words faded at the end, like she was reluctant to say that last part.

I shot upright. “Is he still here?”

She shook her head. “No. He just said sorry it took so long to return this, and then he left.” She hung the dress on the back of my door, and eased down next to me, making my bed dip drastically.

I thought maybe she was waiting for me to say something, but I couldn’t. I’d been waiting to see Will, hoping to run into him, and kind of hoping not to at the same time, because what would I even say if I did? That I was sorry for thinking he was a big, fat jerk, and for saying as much to everyone within earshot? That I knew now what a good guy he really was, coming home like he had to take care of his sister, even after his dreams had been crushed?

Or the real truth? That I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and I wanted him to do things to me that I’d never let any other guy do to me before?

For just a fleeting moment, my heart soared thinking that maybe the dress had been some sort of white flag, a chance for me to call a truce between us. But I’d been wrong. He was polite, that’s all. The fact that he’d left right away proved he had no interest in seeing me.

“Lauren,” Em said, her hands folding around mine. “It’s been two weeks. You have to stop moping around. Lucas told me what you thought, about Will’s sister.”

I looked up and met her eyes, and wondered why she hadn’t said anything before. “I’m not moping.”

“Yeah. You are. You go to that center all day, and then you come back here and go straight to your room. We barely talk anymore. We never do anything. You’re acting like an old lady.”

I grimaced because she wasn’t that far off. I thought I’d done a better job hiding it, but clearly I was delusional. The center had become my only social life, which was pretty pathetic considering that meant my circle of friends consisted of a bunch of impoverished elementary and middle-schoolers who sat around learning the ins-and-outs of Google and Excel all day. “Or a farmer,” I added with a wry grin.

“Or that.” She scowled at me. “This is
so
not funny. I’m being serious here. I get it, your feelings are hurt. Well, guess what? That’s life. Everyone goes through this shit, and everyone survives it.” She tapped the imaginary wristwatch on her arm. “I’ve given you two whole weeks, and now it’s time to get your shit together.”

I sighed, hard. “Get my shit together and do what?”

Emerson sighed too, a long, languorous sound as she stretched out on the bed, tucking her arms behind her head. “And do
whomever
you want. Preferably someone superhot.”

‡

Okay, so it wasn’t so much a who I wanted to do, as a
what
that I finally landed on to make myself feel better.

I’d come all this way with the dream of becoming a lifeguard, which I’d already scrapped, namely because I was a terrible—or rather, non-swimmer. But that was the thing; I didn’t have to be a non-swimmer. I might not be lifeguard material, but I could still do the whole swimming thing, and I didn’t need Will to make it happen.

Turns out, finding someone to give me swim lessons in Southern California wasn’t all that hard, and I had a new instructor within the week. She wasn’t as easy on the eyes as Will, but she was patient and definitely knew her stuff, and after several lessons and a whole lotta practice, I was actually able to make it from one end of the pool to the other. No small feat for someone who looked like she was assaulting the water when she swam.

After my lesson one night, I decided to swing by the center on my way home. There was always something happening there, even if it was just a teen movie or game night.

When I got there, the kids were all gathered in the Commons watching some sort of singing competition on TV. The Commons was perfect for parties or movie nights, with a giant flat panel TV—definitely from this century and likely a donation from some fancy donor, judging by the state of the 1970s furniture the kids were gathered around on.

“Hey, Lauren!” Jefferson called when he saw me come in.

I nodded to him and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the back counter while I leaned against the wall to check out a few minutes of the show they were all so engrossed in. It was one of those competitions where singers compete for a massive payout and a huge contract with a record label—a rags-to-riches kind of gig.

The singer on the flashy stage was pretty good, and even though it was an amateur singing show, there was something familiar about the guy. I racked my brain, trying to figure out who it was he reminded me of. He stepped effortlessly into the spotlights as they moved around the stage, as if hitting each cue like a pro. As his song came to a close, all the spotlights faded to black at once, and the studio audience jumped to its feet. People were screaming and girls were waving signs that said, “Marry Me, Dillon” into the cameras.

When the announcer pranced out onto the stage to join the singer, and the lights all went up at once, a sharp stab of recognition penetrated my memory, and I had to reach for the wall behind me to keep from falling over.

“Dillon Varga, America!” the announcer shouted, lifting Dillon’s arm in the air like he was some sort of war hero or something. The audience exploded in response. But the announcer wasn’t finished, and he spoke over their cheers, “Will Dillon be your next American Voice champion? Only you can decide. Remember, every vote counts.”

Inside, I was dying.

It was him. Or rather he was
one of us
from that night, and the memory of what we’d done—all of us, together—was suddenly fresh and raw, sending the cookie I’d just eaten shooting back up my throat.

I raced for the restroom, and when I got there, I clung to the toilet until I’d retched up every last bite I’d eaten for the past twenty-four hours. Maybe for the past month. When I was finished, I didn’t go back out to the Commons, I went to my computer classroom instead, so I could have a few minutes alone.

What the hell was Dillon Varga doing on American Voice? Wasn’t that the exact opposite of laying low, of trying
not
to draw attention to ourselves? Hadn’t it been enough to take his $110,000 and walk away from that night at The Coffee Cave? Now he had to go for fame and fortune too?

Crazy. It was all just…crazy.

I leaned my cheek against one of the cheap Formica tabletops as I waited for the confusion and guilt and memories to pass. When I heard the knock on the classroom door, my head popped up.

“Come in,” I croaked, but the doors had a big glass opening, and I could already see who was there, on the other side, and all over again, my stomach clenched.

This night had gone from crazy to downright insane in the blink of an eye.

Tess was here. Tess, who I’d once thought was Will’s girlfriend, and who he loved definitely, but not in the way I’d believed.