Wisteria (Wisteria Series) (27 page)

Wisteria fixed the last pin on her deep green scarf that evening. Inspecting her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her face only showed a small bruise from her altercation with Hailey. Perhaps no one would notice.

“Hey, Wisteria, where is everyone?” David asked as she walked out of the bathroom.

“Hailey and her friends? They left an hour ago.” She went to her room.

“Okay, do you know where they went?” He followed her in.

“I don’t know, David. There’s a curfew and no one is supposed to be out.” She didn’t want him breaking the town’s curfew again. There was no telling what was lurking outside. Even if the island was safe, she didn’t want him spending time with the kids who attacked her.

“Okay,” he said. “When Mum gets back, tell her I went to see Amanda.”

“David, you can’t break curfew.” She followed him. In her heart, she was aware that there was little she could do to stop him.

“Yes, I can. You aren’t my mother.”

“No, David!” She hurried after him and grabbed his upper arm, but her fifteen-year-old brother pulled away.

“Wisteria, leave me alone!” He pushed her back.

Hoping he locked the front door on his way in, she grabbed his keys.

Whistling in annoyance, David tried to grab the keys from her, but she fought him off.

“You’re staying home,” she ordered.

“Wisteria, give me my keys.”

As they tussled, their mother came home. “David!” Her mother grabbed him by his neck.

Triumphantly, he waved the keys at his older sister. “You’re not that strong, sis.” Leering, he bounced out of the house.

“Are you going to let him go?” she asked her mother in annoyance.

Ignoring her question, the older woman inspected the bruises on Wisteria’s face. “What happened to you? Did your brother hit you?”

“No.”

“And since when do you wear a scarf?”

Outside, she heard David arguing with Coles, which explained why her mother let David go out. She knew Coles would stop him.

“No, David’s harmless. It’s just a bump.” Wisteria laughed.

“A bump? You’ve got bruises down your neck, Wisteria, and look at your arms. Who did this?” her mother exclaimed. “Was it Bach?”

“No, no! Why would you say that?” Wisteria was startled that her mother arrived at that conclusion.

“Because he attacked Coles. That boy is dangerous.”

“He was defending Garfield.”

“Okay then, who did this?”

David walked back into the house and stormed upstairs.

Her mother looked up at him as if to say,
I’ll deal with you later
. “All right, so tell me: who did this?” Her eyes searched Wisteria’s for clues.

Disliking the silent interrogation, she looked away. “I just fell over.” She slipped out of her mother’s reach and walked into the kitchen.

“Wisteria, what happened to your hair?”

Turning back, she saw her mother standing beside the dark green scarf, which was now lying on the floor. It had fallen off.

Hurrying to Wisteria, she ran her hand over Wisteria’s bald head.

“It’s nothing.” She tried to sound happy.

Her mother’s expression turned from worry to horror at what Hailey and her friends had done. “Tell me.” Her mother’s voice became low and firm.

Wisteria shook her head because there was nothing her mother could do. A lot of people on the island were afraid of her mother, but she was neither a soldier nor a scientist. In the grand scheme of things on the island, she was seen as unimportant. Hailey’s, Yvette’s, and Karen’s families were scientists or soldiers and if those people turned against her, the family could be expelled from the island.

Wisteria knew there was nowhere else to go. “It was some kids from school.”

Tears welled up in her mother’s eyes. “We fight all the time. Whoever did this to you is mad. If they just beat you, then I’d know they were stupid. Anyone in Smythe can handle stupid. They cut your hair to send you a message and try to humiliate you. They have to know their message was received.”

The darkness in her mother’s eyes scared her and she said nothing. For at that moment, she was certain her mother would kill Hailey and her friends.

“When you’re ready,
sha
.” Her mother used the old endearment as her countenance softened and she hugged Wisteria. Then, she left the room, only to return with a bottle of iodine and a handkerchief. “They cut you when they cut your hair. I’ll have to clean it for you.”

“I’ve already cleaned it.”

“I know.” She tended to Wisteria’s wounds again.

“Ah…” She flinched as her fresh wounds were covered in the painful liquid.

Observing her mother’s expression, Wisteria knew that even while her mother appeared calm, she was furious.

When they were finished, her mother actually poured her a shot of Irish Cream.

* * * * *

That night, Wisteria replayed the events of that day.
How was she going to face those girls again? When was this going to end?
Hours passed, but no sleep came. Getting up, she opened the window to let in the cold air. Even though it was chilly that night, she was boiling inside.

She needed to get out of the house, but couldn’t handle leaving. The roof, she thought. David went up there all the time. Unbolting the metal cage over her window, she climbed out. Standing on her home, she watched the sleeping town as the cold wind blew through her, carrying her tears into the night.

Not a good idea, Wisteria.
It’s totally freezing and she didn’t bring her jacket. In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone nearing her home. It was Bach.
What was he doing here?
Then she remembered he could take this way to Hailey’s home.

Watching him pass in silence, she realized Hailey was right, no one could ignore how Wisteria was different now. She laughed at the irony. She called Bach different when she tried to explain his tremendous abilities. Now she realized why it made him feel like an abnormality. Stepping away from the edge, she sat on the ridge of the roof, where no one could see her.

“Happy birthday,” a voice said.

Horrified, she looked around and saw that Bach was standing on the roof only a few feet away. In his hand was a brand new instrument. A Spanish guitar, which he held out to her.

“Huh?” She did not understand what he was doing..

“Who hurt you?” His eyes widened as he noticed the bruises. “Who did this? Coles?”

Your psychopathic friend Hailey Davenport
, she wanted to say, but if he confronted Hailey, things would only get worse for her. Also, there was a greater chance her mother would find out and Wisteria had no idea what her mother would do.

“It’s not my birthday.” Changing the subject, she was truly puzzled by the random act. To actually be receiving a gift from this strange young man who seemed to run hot and then cold, then back to hot again. “Why did…? What made you think it was my birthday?”

“You have one every year. I am sure I have missed one. It is supposed to be a gift, Wisteria. I remembered from the Dungeon that you played this.” He seemed to be examining the guitar, and he looked unsure.

“Oh,” she mouthed, taking the instrument. “Thank you. I was just a little shocked you remembered that I played the guitar. You were pretty delirious a lot of the time in the Dungeon.” Running her fingers over the golden brown wooden instrument, she could see that it was brand new and nothing like the tattered one she played in the Dungeon. Plucking the strings, she started to tune it and was soon strumming quietly. As she played, she walked up and down the roof.

“I never forgot,” he replied.

“It was the one thing my father taught me.”

“I thought you could take it in good faith until I returned your necklace.”

“Nah, I don’t really care about that.”

Though her affections for Steven were dead, she was still suffering the aftermath. The red stone necklace was double tainted now, since Bach was making one for Hailey.

“You made it. Does that not make it special to you?”

“I made it as a gift for someone who continues to remind me, that he’s…that I’m such an idiot.”

“You made this for Steven.”

“How did you know?”

“You told Enric you made this a few months ago when you were on the island. I know you and Steven are close. Every time I see you, it seems you are with him,”

She put down the guitar. “Steven? Was that why you’ve been behaving so weird?”

No answer came from him.

“There’s nothing—and I mean
nothing
—going on between me and Steven. Why would you say that?”

“I am sorry,” he said. Moving toward her, he raised his hand as if he wanted to put it on her shoulder, but then he stopped. “I guess I was jealous, because he is not
different
like me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you and
you
can’t imagine how different he is!”

“Steven—”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Picking up her instrument, she started strumming again, but this time, she played something fast that matched her agitated mood.

He seemed to study her as she played. “I have never seen you wear one of these before.” He touched her scarf and started to unwrap the fabric.

Grabbing it before he could finish, she protested. “It’s nothing.”

The material tumbled down. “No.” Dropping the guitar, she dove for the cloth.

“You cut your hair?” He looked bewildered. “It looks beautiful.”

“No it doesn’t!” Grabbing the scarf, she began retying it around her head. “I didn’t cut my hair. I wouldn’t do this to myself.”

“Who did this to you?”

“Hailey heard I slept with Steven, so she came over to teach me a lesson.” As she searched his eyes for some support, she found only his blank stare.

He thought it was true.

“I didn’t and I’d never touch a cockroach like Steven.”

“Apparently, he does not have the same opinion about you.”

“I mean, he was acting like a complete idiot when he saw the biters in town. Then, he panicked and tried to kiss me. I can’t believe he’s saying that I did him, in addition to all his other lies!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”
There was nothing anyone could do.
Hailey was the daughter of the head of the leadership council and considered more important than she was. Her family could make Wisteria even more miserable and her family’s life into a living hell. Maybe the girls would get bored, once it was obvious Steven had lost interest in her. This was just one of his jokes, after all.

If not, perhaps Steven could be reasoned with to stay away from her.

* * * * *

As she walked back to the ridge of the roof, Bach’s heart went with her. Someone had tried to hurt her. Tried to damage what belonged to him, and who he belonged to.

He started to feel dizzy from the volumes of strangle weed planted in the front of her house.

“Thank you so much for coming and for the guitar. It’s perfect.” She gave it back to him.

“No, it is yours, Wisteria.” He refused to take it. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I love it. It’s so beautiful.”

“Then keep it.” He kissed her neck. Knowing—hoping—his touch would soothe her pain, but he hadn’t come here to comfort her.

“Bach.” She used her instrument as a shield as she moved away from him. “It’s a bad idea. You won’t understand.”

“You are right. I do not get why you would refuse something you apparently love,” he whispered while rubbing her forearms and taking in her scent.

“If I accept your kindness, then I’ll have to face the consequences. I don’t know if I can face those.”

“You cannot face accepting my kindness, or is it accepting me that you cannot face?”

“Um…?”

“Tell me that you do not feel the same,” he whispered. “That the moment you first saw me that I did not get inside your head. Tell me that you do not think about me all of the time when we are not together?”

The dark-eyed girl did not answer.

Wishing he could will her to speak, he pressed her against his chest. Briefly, he noticed a black spot at the base of her neck, where he had kissed her, and then it was gone. “Okay, Wisteria. Then tell me that you want me to leave, and that you do not care if you never ever see me again.” He felt like someone else was speaking for him, once again. The questions became pointless as he found himself still planting kisses along her neck and the sides of her face.

“I can’t tell you that, Bach,” she replied softly, her voice breaking. “Because it’s not true.” She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly.

Desperately wanting to kiss her luscious-looking lips, he leaned into her.

Wisteria reached up to him, tugging his head down as she stood on the very tips of her toes, seemingly just as eager to taste his lips.