Unforgiven (15 page)

“Bitch, you're standing in my way,” Chloe King said.

For the first time, Lilith had been looking forward to lunch in the cafeteria, because she would have people to sit with. Her band.

She'd forgotten about Chloe.

“I was just admiring your new ink,” Lilith said, nodding at Chloe's chest, which bore a brand-new tattoo. The skin around it was still red and raw, but she recognized the scrawling letters of Ike Ligon's signature just above the neckline of Chloe's low-cut shirt. Lilith thought the tattoo was ugly, but it ignited a flash of envy in her anyway. She didn't have the money to make such an obvious suck-up gesture to the Four Horsemen. She barely had enough money for the turkey sandwich on her tray.

The three Perceived Slights fanned out behind Chloe. Kara crossed her arms over her chest, and Teresa had a hungry look in her hazel eyes, like she'd pounce on Lilith if she tried to attack Chloe again. June was the only one slacking at being a stereotypical mean girl, plucking split ends distractedly from her blond hair.

Chloe put a hand up to keep Lilith at a distance. “If you can read my tattoo, you're too close. I should get a restraining order after what you did the other day.”

A part of Lilith wanted to throw down her tray and rip Chloe's tattoo right out of her skin.

But it was a smaller, quieter part of her today. The bigger part of Lilith was preoccupied with thoughts of her band: changes she wanted to make to one chorus, ideas for a drum solo she wanted to bounce off Luis, even—she had to admit—a question she wanted to ask Cam about his guitar technique. For the first time, Lilith had too much good stuff knocking around in her mind to let rage overtake her.

I believe in Lilith,
Cam had said earlier, in the band room. And it had stuck with her. Maybe it was time Lilith started believing in herself.

“You're a straight-up bitch clown, Lilith,” Chloe said. “Always have been, always will be.”

“What does that even mean?” Lilith asked. “No, never mind.” She swallowed. “I'm sorry I pulled out your weave. I thought I was defending my brother, but I was just being a jerk.”

Kara nudged June, who let go of the split end she was picking and started paying attention.

“I know,” Chloe said, a little stunned. “Thank you for saying that.” Then, wordlessly, she summoned her friends, nodded once at Lilith, and left the cafeteria, leaving Lilith with the new experience of eating lunch in peace.

When Lilith swung by her homeroom class after lunch, Mrs. Richards looked up from her computer guardedly. “Your detention is nonnegotiable, Ms. Foscor.”

“I'm not here to try to get out of it.” Lilith pulled up a chair next to her teacher. “I came to apologize for skipping class, for being late so much, for generally being the kind of student teachers dread.”

Mrs. Richards blinked, then took off her glasses. “What brought on this change of attitude?”

Lilith wasn't sure where to start. Bruce was back in school. Her mother had been treating her like a human. Her band felt whole and right. She'd even attempted to reconcile with Chloe King. Things were going so well, Lilith didn't want it to stop.

“My brother's been sick,” she said.

“I'm aware of that,” Mrs. Richards said. “If you need time off or extensions on your assignments, the faculty can work with you, but you'll need documentation from your mother or a doctor. You can't just run out of class whenever you feel like it.”

“I know,” Lilith said. “There is something I thought you might be able to help with. See, Bruce is feeling better, and I want to keep it that way. You know so much about the environment, I thought maybe you could help me make some changes around my house.”

Mrs. Richards's eyes softened as she studied Lilith. “I'm a big believer that we can all change our world for the better, but sometimes, Lilith, these things are out of our control. I know how sick Bruce gets. I just don't want you to expect a miracle.” She smiled, and Lilith could tell her teacher felt genuinely bad for her. “Of course, it wouldn't hurt to throw out any harsh cleaning products, and start cooking good, wholesome meals for the whole family. Homemade chicken soup. Iron-rich leafy greens. That sort of thing.”

Lilith nodded. “I'll do that.” She didn't know where she would get the money. Ramen noodles were her mom's idea of a good, wholesome meal. But she would find a way. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” Mrs. Richards said as Lilith moved toward the door to head to history class. “You still have detention this afternoon. But maybe we can try to make it your last.”

As Lilith stepped outside after detention, the huge student parking lot was empty. It gave the school a ghostly feel. Ash gathered like gray snow along the curb, and Lilith wondered if she would ever see or smell or taste real snow. She walked toward the edge of campus, putting on her headphones, listening to some old Four Horsemen songs about broken hearts and dreams.

She was used to being one of the last kids to leave school—detention let out after soccer practice ended and the choir went home for the day—but she never really stopped to look around as she left campus. A sharp wind had loosed several of the prom court posters from the walls of the school. They swirled around the pavement like fallen leaves wearing her classmates' faces.

The sun was going down, but it was still hot. The wildfires on the hills seemed fiercer than usual as Lilith neared the cluster of trees marking the entrance to Rattlesnake Creek. She hadn't been to her spot in a few days, and she wanted a quiet place to study for her biology quiz before she headed home.

She heard a rustling in the trees and looked around but didn't see anyone. Then she heard a voice.

“I knew you couldn't stay away.” Luc appeared between the carob trees. His arms were crossed, and he was looking up through the branches at the smoky sky.

“I can't talk right now,” Lilith said. There was something strange about the intern, and it wasn't just the stabbing memory of opening that envelope and seeing her emailed lyrics inside. Why was he hanging out at Trumball so much anyway? This internship couldn't require his presence here full-time.

Luc smiled. “I'll make it quick. I just got off the phone with Ike Ligon, and I thought you might be interested in our conversation.”

Without meaning to, Lilith stepped toward him.

“As you know,” Luc said, “the Four Horsemen are coming to town to play at prom and judge the Battle of the Bands. Now, I know all the cool kids are going to Chloe's after-party, but—”

“I'm not going to Chloe's after-party,” Lilith said.

“Good.” Luc smiled. “Because I was thinking I'd have a few people back to my place afterward. Something intimate. Would you like to come?”

“No, thanks—”

“Ike Ligon will be there,” Luc said.

Lilith inhaled sharply. How could she pass up an opportunity to spend time with Ike Ligon? She could ask him where he got the ideas for his songs, what his approach to writing music was…It would be like a crash course in rock-stardom.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Great,” Luc said. “Just you, though. Not Cam. I heard you let him into your band. Personally, I think that's a career mistake.”

“I get it, you hate Cam.” Lilith wondered how Luc had heard this news. It had only happened this morning, and he didn't even go to school with them.

“He's got a reputation,” Luc said. “He's been around the block. He's been
under
the block. I mean,
look
at that guy. You know the saying
live fast, die young, and leave an attractive corpse
? I guess old Cam is proving the lie to that. His sins are wearing him down—he even
looks
like a sinner.”

“I hear looks are only skin-deep,” Lilith said.

“With skin like Cam's, I hope so.” Luc laughed. “King Media also caught wind that Cam was the one who submitted your lyrics to the contest. If he did it without your approval, that would be grounds for disqualification.”

“It's okay,” Lilith said, realizing quickly that she didn't want to be disqualified. “He, um, had my approval. Can I ask you something?”

Luc raised an eyebrow. “Anything.”

“It seems like you and Cam have history. What is it with you two?”

Luc's gaze burned into Lilith as his voice went icy cold. “He thinks he's the exception to every rule. But some rules, Lilith,
must
be followed.”

Lilith swallowed. “It sounds like you do go back a ways.”

“The past is the past,” Luc said, softening again. “But if you care about your future, you'll kick Cam out of the band.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Lilith left Luc and ducked under the branches. She found her favorite place by the creek. As she neared her carob tree, she saw something unusual: a pocked and battered antique rolltop desk sat beside it. It had a heavy wrought-iron frame and must have weighed a ton. Who had brought it here? And how? Whoever they were, they'd covered its wooden top with iris petals.

Lilith had always adored irises, even though she'd only ever seen pictures of them online. She'd been inside Crossroads's one junky florist, Kay's Blooms, dozens of times to pick up a bouquet of yellow carnations—Bruce's favorite—when he was feeling bad. Mr. Kay and his sons owned the business, and ever since Mrs. Kay had died, they stocked the basics only. Red roses, carnations, tulips. Lilith hadn't ever seen anything as exotic as irises in there.

She admired the blue-and-yellow blossoms, and she slid into the low-backed chair and rolled back the top of the desk. Inside was a handwritten note:

Every songwriter needs a proper desk. Found this on the curb in front of the Palace of Versailles. Pour toi.

He must have found it on someone's curb in the fancy part of Crossroads, waiting to be picked up and taken to the dump. But she liked that Cam had seen the desk and thought of her. She liked that he'd probably cleaned it up so she could use it. She read the last line of the note: