A Dark Road Page 16

  Chapter 36

  James

  Hadley Grayson is my lightning, my speed, my hearts, my candy.

  I’ve never tried any of my own products and I’m glad I haven’t.

  It might have reduced my tolerance for happy.

  It starts with walks at night and evolves to lunch in Granger’s room. When I wake up in the morning I lean into the pillow next to me and try to breathe her in. The more time she spends with me, the easier it seems to be to memorize her smell.

  It’s the third night in a row now that I’ve met her at the intersection that connects the two fields. Dog and I are both freezing, but I put one of my old t-shirts on him and pull the zipper of my jacket all the way up. It’s kind of funny how Dog lays there so patiently, eating what’s left of the onion grass, while I bounce around counting down the seconds until I see the light in her parents’ bedroom go out from the TV. I’ve learned her dad puts the timer on when they go to bed. I close my eyes and count the seconds that pass, because when they do, I’m that much closer to seeing Hadley’s bedroom light go on, and I know she and I are that much closer.

  Dog spits out the last of the onion grass and swaggers right up to her, instantly trying to stick his nose in her jacket pocket. This has become the new routine for them. Every night she brings him a baggy full of dinner scraps and he devours it in a single bite. I watch a few feet away while she tries to get him to sit before giving him something that looks like a tater-tot. When he drops on his belly and starts to whine though, she gives in and gives it to him, laughing like it’s the greatest thing she’s ever seen.

  “You’re spoiling my dog.”

  She rolls her eyes at me and starts whispering something into Dog’s ear.

  “You know he’s just trying to manipulate you, right?”

  Her smile get wider and she whispers to him some more.

  “It’s rude to tell secrets in front of other people.”

  She laughs then and I have to turn away. I don’t want her to catch me staring at her. I don’t want her to know that I’m in awe of her. Just in the few minutes since she has been outside her cheeks have blossomed pink from the cold and her eyes look brighter from the moonlight.

  “What good is a pet if you can’t spoil them?” she asks. Kneeling to Dog’s level, she gives him the last of the scraps before taking off her gloves and petting his neck, that special spot behind his ears. Dog may be my trusty companion, but I’m downright jealous of him now.

  Then she comes over to me and she wraps her arms around me and I feel her shake. And the hair that sticks out from beneath her hood is cold. And I can’t breathe and I don’t want to as long as she keeps hugging me.

  “How can you stand this temperature?” she asks. “I think it’s 30 degrees.”

  I’m still cautious about touching her but she takes my hands from my pockets and wraps my arms around her. I am her happy puppet.

  “A-actually it was 42 degrees Fahrenheit an hour ago. It’s the wind chill that makes it feel so cold.”

  She starts kicking something on the ground and rotating her shoulders. “Better keep moving.”

  “Don’t want to get numb.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Quite.”

  She smiles at me when she snaps forward to pick up something from the ground, and I know it sounds lame as hell, but if I was cold at all, her smile would have turned me into slush.

  It takes me a second to see she has a long stick in her hand and she’s doing this thing with her feet to turn them off to the side while stirring her right wrist around in big wide circles. It sort of looks like she’s mixing an invisible mixture of horizontal cake batter, but then she tosses the stick in the air just the right way and catches it perfectly while lunging forward. I’m wondering if there has ever been anyone more graceful in the history of time.

  “What?” she asks. “Am I that much of a freak?”

  “No.” I want to tell her how awesome she is, but it’s as far as I get.

  She starts doing some other things that make her back leg stretch almost all the way out and I find myself wishing the light were better and she were wearing those gym shorts. Luckily, her jeans are generous to her figure and run tight against her hips when she snaps her ankles back together in the move so quick it makes me think there’s no way a dude could ever do this sport.

  She looks at the ground, picks up a stick, and throws it at my hand.

  I don’t even try to catch it. I can’t risk embarrassing myself any more than absolutely necessary.

  She still laughs, grabs her knees, and pulls her scarf off. “En garde.”

  I swell inside. I don’t why she’s chosen to share this with me, but I feel a pride I haven’t felt since my elementary school science fair days. Despite her obvious skill, Hadley Grayson doesn’t go around bragging about how wonderful she is, she doesn’t give displays of her awesomeness to the student body (as much as the cross-eyed sheep would love it), but she’s willing to do it with me. I’m the one she’s chosen to kick the ass of with this pretend sword…and for some retarded reason that makes me feel pretty special.

  “Let’s go, Bill Nye. I’m going to take you out.”

  She’s smiling and her face is flushed. I try not to think about it and imitate her posture, but it only makes her smile harder, her stance collapses and she laughs.

  “Dead chicken.” She laughs.

  “That’s how I prefer my chicken.”

  She tosses her wrist and lets her fingers drop, it looks impossibly uncomfortable. “It’s a first stand position.” She can barely get the words out and I’m smiling so hard my face hurts. I try it but my hands are clumsy and I’m holding the stick so hard I accidently break it in my hand.

  She’s laughing and laughing.

  I shrug. Is she laughing with me or at me?

  “I guess you don’t know your own strength.”

  Jesus, she can laugh at me all she wants as long as she keeps looking at me like that.

  She steps a few paces away from me and for an instant the panic sets in that she is going home, that she’s leaving me and never coming back, but then she does this hop, skip, jump thing, exerting her arm forward with the stick-sword just so its end pokes directly in the center of my chest.

  “Gotcha right in the heart.” She laughs.

  And I think: she’s got no freaking idea.

  By the time Dog realizes we have sticks it’s all over and we have to surrender all weapons. We throw them to him for a whole three minutes before he gets distracted and we all just end up walking around. Yet even the walking doesn’t help keep the cold away as the temperature seems to drop. I watch Hadley put her scarf back on and blow into her hands and wish for summertime.

  “Brr.” She shakes again. “I hate this. Isn’t there an all night diner or something we can hang out at?”

  “Not around here.” But the idea of her being in the cold because of me makes my stomach clench again.

  “We, um, ah—you know, don’t have to meet up anymore if you don’t want.”

  We had talked about her brother and what he might do if he knew I was hanging out with Hadley, and I explained the possibility of chemical pneumonia, which is why neither of us met at her house or at mine. She mentioned to her mom that we hang out sometimes, but that was the only proof of our friendship.

  Friend. I want to laugh. I have a friend. Please, don’t take that away from me now.

  “Y-you don’t want to hang out anymore?”

  “N-no. I mean the last couple of weeks have been awesome. I just don’t want you to freeze to death.”

  “Good, because I like being with you.”

  Her words swim in my head like something unreal.

  “Hey,” she says abruptly. “I think I may have the greatest idea ever.”

  Hadley takes my hand and leads me down to the other side of her house. I’m not used to this side of the area, so it takes my eyes a second to adjust, but I quickly realize she’s pulling at a rusty d
oor handle. Like my house, the Graysons’ basement is technically a third floor. It’s dark, but a lot warmer than outside, but whether or not my skin feels prickly from Hadley’s hand in mine or the blast of heat is a mystery.

  Dog is sniffing around some boxes, happy to be nosy. I hear Hadley say something under her breath but don’t catch it.

  “What?”

  “A clubhouse.”

  I look around. There isn’t much light and only the one window, but it’s definitely a lot cleaner than my basement. Even the drains in the floor look freshly scrubbed.

  “You’re going to have to run that by me again.”

  “When it’s really cold or you know—when you just need a place to stay.”

  “Down here?”

  She smiles but I don’t understand why. “You aren’t afraid of spiders, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then this will work. No one comes down here and with the furnace right there, I don’t have to worry about you and Dog freezing to death.”

  “Your parents—”

  “Mom is always working, Dad likes the shed and garage better, and Simon is afraid of spiders.”

  In my head I’m going through all of the reasons why this isn’t a good idea. But then I think it’s only for nights, for sleeping, and I’ll be that much closer to Hadley.

  “Maybe j-just for tonight,” I lie. “For Dog.”

  She throws her arms around my neck. Dog tries to squish between us and she laughs.

  Hadley Grayson is my ecstasy.

  Chapter 37

  Hadley

  I started volunteering regular hours at the animal shelter on Tuesday and Thursday nights and Saturday mornings. I was basically working all of the hours no one else wanted, but I was okay with that. I liked being around the animals even if all I was really doing was cleaning litter boxes, shoveling dog poop, and organizing food donations.

  I told James about my times at the shelter. With each detail he asked me more questions, giving me his shrug at appropriate intervals and surprising me by showing genuine interest.

  Greater still was when I told him about all of the security measures at the pharmacy. He shook his head and laughed.

  “People can get high off of anything. Vets have been known to sell ketamine hydrochloride or use it themselves.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s special K, or cat valium. It doesn’t sell for a lot, but from what I understand it can get you really high.”

  “That explains all of the security cameras.”

  “It’s gotten a lot stricter over the last few years. People will pick up a stray, beat it up, then use the prescription the vet gives it to get high themselves.”

  We both looked at Dog, who nudged the ball towards us.

  “Don’t worry, cuddle monster. No matter what happens, you’ll be my second favorite stray.”

  I glanced up at James, who I realized was staring at me. “You happen to be my first favorite stray…if you were wondering.”

  He blushed.

  Chapter 38

  James

  She has her hair up today, parted in the middle. It brings out the roundness of her face, making her cheeks look like little apples.

  “Why should I care about the colors again?”

  She kicks me. “Because, James, colors are like names in books, sometimes they’re important.”

  I groan and roll over. I already know this; I just want an excuse to hear her voice. “Okay, tell me again.”

  “Dostoevsky uses yellow to represent suffering. Okay?” She looks at me. “Are you with me so far?”

  When I shrug she kicks me again.

  “Yeah.” I laugh. “I’m with you.”

  “Good! Now, he doesn’t come right out and say it, but then Sonya’s prostitution license is yellow, and almost every room where something bad happens is yellow.”

  I nod. “Yellow bad, got it.”

  “I’m just telling you because Grander will probably want specific examples on the test.”

  “I’ll never remember if it has to be more than one sentence.”

  “Think of it like a math or chemistry problem. One denatured yellow wall is equal to mental illness.”

  I laugh. It feels better than good, but I don’t have the words to describe it like Hadley does. “I’ll try.”

  “There is no try,” she says, “only do.”

  I’m thinking of risking it. Why not? What the hell? She’s so damned determined to get me to do well in English that she might still hang out with me even if she hates me. So I do it, I circle my arm around her and pull her closer—a considerable task since Dog anymore now has to sleep directly between us—I run my finger up and down the part in her hair. How does she manage to make it so perfectly straight? The heat from her scalp is wonderful and I’m dying to kiss her again but I remember how I gave her my word I wouldn’t. Maybe it’s better to get away from her a little, some distance for both of our sakes.

  “C-can I play video games now?”

  She laughs. “Parents should warn their daughters that boys only want two things.”

  I sit upright and try to shake her off of me. It’s freaking impossible.

  “What’s your excuse?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m pretty sure Simon plays them as an outlet for his temper, so what’s your excuse?”

  I shrug and lay back down on my sleeping bag. In his dreams, Dog knocks over the empty mug that contained hot chocolate. He’s got crusted milk on his nose from licking the mugs clean, but he’s so happy I wouldn’t dare try to wake him.

  We had no intention of staying in the Graysons’ basement tonight. But then Hadley started talking about instant hot chocolate and peanut butter pie and the next thing I know I’ve been duped right into a study session. Considering they were calling for snow, it didn’t make sense to deny Hadley’s request.

  “It’s fun, I guess. I get to pretend to be someone else.”

  I knew it was a stupid thing to say, especially now, right at this very second when I was laying next to a beautiful girl who had seduced me into studying with pie and hot chocolate, who had brought pillows from her own bedroom to share with my dog and I. How could I ever want to be somebody else when she was right there with me?

  “What, like a gangster or a knight?”

  “Not exactly. I just step outside of reality for awhile.”

  “I guess it’s sort of the same way with fencing,” she says. “I get so in-tune with the movements it’s like an out-of-body experience.”

  “Is that sport real popular in Connecticut?”

  “Not really. But that’s what made it so appealing. I’m good at it, so I stick out, but in a good way.”

  “You stick out here, too.”

  She looks up slightly horrified and I have to vindicate myself.

  “In a good way.” Everything I say is rushed and sloppy. I wait for her to laugh at me but she doesn’t.

  “You’re—ah—well, you’re the most beautiful girl in school. Not to mention that you’re too smart for your own good. But more than that, you don’t give a fuck about all the high-school crap and that is so incredibly—”

  “Lame?”

  “I was going to say awesome.” I hesitate when I feel her tense beside me. “Do people still say awesome anymore?”

  Now she laughs. “You are the most adorable nerd that ever lived.”

  Chapter 39

  Hadley

  “Doesn’t your dad come home tomorrow?”

  “From Austin, yeah.”

  “And that means?”

  “I’ll have to cook.”

  I was beginning to hate the use of that word. It no longer held its traditional meaning with warm pies and homemade pizza, but belonged to something foul and tasteless. The word ‘cook’ belonged to kids like Jenna now, kids overpressured and housewives trying to squeeze in a forty hour work week. It belonged to the truckers, the bikers, the partiers, and achievers in every realm. Offic
ially, I now hated to word ‘cook’ and suspected I would forever until the day I died.

  “The thing is, though, is that I was thinking it could be my last one.”

  “What? Really?” I sat up and watched his mouth move; I wanted to make sure I wasn’t just hearing things.

  “I’ll still have to cook meth for Frank, just to keep the peace and everything. Nobody around here will rent to someone under 18, so I don’t want to get kicked out. But my birthday is in the spring—”

  I hugged him until I thought one of us would pop. The only reason I pulled away is to see his face when he started to laugh.

  “I thought about what you said and applied for some grants. It’s a long shot, even with my grades, but if you’re going to a small school around here—then maybe I could, too.”

  When his words washed over me I became giddy. I didn’t think he was quite prepared for my response as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself close to him. This was joyous news—spectacular, wonderful, harmonious news…

  “You’re not messing with me, right, James?” If you are, I swear—”

  “I’m not, I promise. I swear I’m not. You are still planning to go to Temple, right?”

  “I am—unless a wrench gets thrown in the works. Did you apply?” I hoped he didn’t hear the hope in my voice, but I think it was unavoidable.

  “It’s kind of last minute.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I’d be okay getting waitlisted.”

  “James, you shouldn’t change your priorities for me. I thought you wanted to get as far away from here as possible. If that’s what you still want, you should go for it.”

  “I only wanted to leave this place because of how deserted it was, how lonely I was. With you here, it isn’t like that anymore. Even if I don’t get into Temple, with my grades maybe I could do an internship instead.”