She laughs, and I arch an eyebrow, unamused. Glancing into her locker, I see the bottle she loaned the janitor this morning back on the shelf, and I walk over. “Nail polish remover. Now.”
But she simply folds her arms over her chest and positions herself in front of her locker, not budging.
“Don’t play with me.” I hold out my hand. “We’ve been keeping our shit PG. I can go R if you want.”
She twists up her lips and lets out a small sigh. “Fine. I can pick my battles, I guess.”
She twists around and takes out the bottle, flinging it toward me. I catch it and twist off the cap, quickly pulling the scarf out of her hands, too.
“Hey!”
But it’s too late. I dump some of the acetone onto the soft beige fabric and use it to rub the pen off on the back of my neck.
“Bastard!” she cries out. “That’s cashmere!”
I pull the scarf away from my neck, seeing the black ink now on her scarf and off my neck. At least most of it, I think.
“Yeah.” I toss the scarf back at her and cap the bottle. “It works great. Thanks.”
She twists up her face in anguish and holds up the scarf with both hands, inspecting the damage.
I set the bottle back on her shelf and walk off before we have time to get into it again. I hear her let out a little growl behind me and slam her locker shut as I make my way for the front of the school.
I need to stop challenging her, despite the amusement I feel. Engaging her is just too easy. Why, when I walk into this building, is she the first thought that comes to my mind and not the real reason I’m here?
If she hadn’t happened upon my spot at the Cove and stolen my shit that night, I might never have crossed her path here. Maybe we would’ve been in some of the same classes, while I lurked quietly around, waiting to take care of business, but I never intended to…
No. That’s not right. I knew better. I kind of knew this would happen, and I knew I was walking into a temptation. I knew Ryen would be here, I knew I would see her and hear her, and I knew my attention would be drawn to her, because despite everything else on my mind, I wouldn’t be able to contain my curiosity.
And then when I found out she was popular, not an outcast, and a cardboard cut-out, not at all original, I became angry. She led me to believe those things, and my muse was a lie.
Until yesterday in the parking lot when I bit and she bit back.
That’s my Ryen.
And I want to see more.
I take out my keys and glance around me, checking the windows of the main house. I didn’t see my dad’s car in the driveway, but it could be in the garage, too. Since he deals in antiques and art, owning a few shops along the coast, his schedule is flexible. He can be gone all day or home at any time.
I unlock the guest house door and step inside, closing it behind me. It’s not even noon, so it’s still light out, but I blacked out most of the windows when I moved in here after Annie’s death. I take out my small flashlight and switch it on. I don’t want to turn on the big light in case my dad sees.
Most of my clothes and belongings are still here, and since Dane wants to grill me every time I mooch off his washer and dryer, I decided to come back here and pick up some more stuff to avoid his third degree this time.
I left school after the scarf thing with Ryen, leaving my truck in the parking lot and taking the ferry to Thunder Bay. I didn’t want my dad or anyone else we know to spot my car.
He doesn’t know where I am, and I’d like to keep it that way. It isn’t like he’s called, either.
Digging a duffel bag out of the closet, I empty drawers and stuff the clothes in the bag, bringing a folded T-shirt to my nose. The scent brings needles to my throat.
Annie’s fabric softener. She was good about doing the laundry, since my dad was busy and I always did it wrong. I complained about the flowery scents she used for my clothes, but now I close my eyes, feeling only home. I made sure to keep using it after she was gone. Nothing would change. We would never change anything she did.
Annie. I blink, feeling my eyes water. I finish gathering the clothes I need and pack an extra pair of shoes as well as the pictures of Annie and me that I have taped to the wall above my desk.
I pass by my guitar, resting on the stand, and a pile of our band’s posters that never got used. Three months ago I had three things I loved. My music, my sister, and…
Everything empties from my lungs, and I turn away from the guitar, unable to look at the fucking thing. It doesn’t matter what I had. Annie’s gone now. My words are gone, and Ryen’s… I don’t know what she is.
And that’s when it occurs to me. I got a letter from her last week. She’s probably sent me another one by now, since she writes like I breathe air. Not that I ever minded, though. They were the best things to come home to.
I leave the guest house, carrying the duffel bag and locking up behind me. I notice that everything seems darker, and I look up and see thunder clouds hovering low. Shit. Did I leave the windows down in my truck? I better get back to school. Falcon’s Well might not get hit with the rain, but it’s possible.
I hurry to the back door of the main house and unlock it, dashing inside. The kitchen is dark, so my dad must be out. Heading over to the counter, I find the pile of mail, all of it mine, and immediately scan for a smoky black envelope with a skull seal.
But I don’t find one. There’s nothing there but college brochures and credit card applications. Has she stopped writing me then?
Relax, dude. You came home last week and checked, and there was a letter there. It’s only been six days.