Chaste (8 page)

“Best wait a week then,” I say, my voice oozing with sarcasm. “Beat me up now, and I’ll nurse my wounds at home.”

Opening my car door, I throw my backpack into the passenger seat. Thank you, Principal Bates, for the five-day suspension. My father is furious. I doubt Amy will let me live this down. My mother will be beyond disappointed. Plus, if I let Mike goad me into a fight, I’ll end up expelled. Life as I know it will end. No college will consider taking me. Chances are I’ll end up with some dead-end job at a fast food restaurant during the day. Taking care of Elijah at night. My life will officially suck.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get in trouble for cutting class?” I ask in a sorry attempt to save my skin.

He takes a step forward to invade my space, his face turning red as he cracks his knuckles. Sweat trickles down my forehead. Duvall pulls his fist back, and I duck at the last second.

I hear a clang.

My attacker cradles his fist against his stomach while I rush to get into my car. There’s a dent in the doorframe but hey, the car’s old. I’m just relieved he missed my face. Locking the door, I stick the key in the ignition and rev the engine. Mike shouts obscenities at me through the rear view mirror as I drive off.

12

Katarina

“Need help with that box?” John asks. I recruited him to help me clean out my house after school, to clear some space to walk so I can see the carpet and vacuum.

With dust on my white tank top and a rip in one of my pant legs, I haul the heavy box to the Jeep. “Do I look helpless to you?”

John glances at his watch. “How long ‘til your parents come home?”

I jump from the Jeep and go back for more stuff. “Don’t know. Depends on how long my mother’s psychologist keeps her waiting. My father pulls the strings, you know? And he insists we all have shrinks. You can see how much good it does.”

I gesture around my living room at the dust-covered boxes filled with kitchen appliances, tanning creams, exercise equipment and unopened junk.

John picks up a pizza box with four stale pieces inside. They knock against the cardboard like bricks against a wall.

“How do you plan on doing a project about fire without starting one?”

I shrug. “Mrs. Williams is crazy.”

“She controls your grade,” he says, throwing the pizza box into a plastic trash can overflowing with garbage.

“I’ll talk to my dad. He’ll complain to Mr. Boucher, the president of the school board, who’ll complain to Principal Bates, who’ll tell Mrs. Williams to give us a more reasonable assignment. It’s one small advantage of having a famous father.”

“Only ‘cause your dad knows how to wield his power.”

“You’re telling me.” I rub my forehead with the back of my hand. “He wants me to go to Washington Bible College next year and says he’ll pay all my expenses if I do. When I ask him about going to Virginia Tech, William and Mary or George Mason, he says those places are fine. But if I want to go to any of them, I’ll have to pay for it on my own. So open-minded of him, don’t you think? On the one hand he’s never home. On the other, he wants veto power on all my decisions.”

“So how’s the bet going?” John changes the subject.

I roll my eyes.

“That well, huh? You ready to give Tasha your most prized possession?”

If I hadn’t just picked up a box with a thigh master in it, I’d smack him in the shoulder, mostly because I’m worried he’s right. I must have been crazy to agree to that bet. What makes me think I can tempt a Mormon boy with morals into spending time with a girl whose father is famous for saying nothing but bad stuff about Mormonism?

I’m not saying I don’t believe what my dad says. Just that it makes things harder. He has an entire sermon debunking the religion on his website. He even teaches an anti-cult class where Quinn’s beliefs are ripped apart. Mr. Nice would have to be blind and deaf not to know. And it doesn’t help that I got the boy suspended. This will take a hell of a lot more than getting him to want my body.

John opens the door. I step out onto the porch.

“Hey, look. Mike and Tasha,” John says from behind me.

I glance at Mike’s house.

Tasha and my ex are walking single file across his front yard and toward their cars. It’s obvious what they’ve been doing. For starters they don’t look at each other. Tasha’s hair sticks out at weird angles. Mike’s shirt is buttoned crooked.

Throwing the thigh master into the Jeep, I march up to Mike. “You’re such a manwhore.”

Tasha glares at me.

Mike grabs my wrist and yanks me toward him. “You can’t be jealous, Kat. You’re the one who set this up.”

“I didn’t ask you to nail her.”

Tasha comes to stand next to him. Poor Tasha. I know she still likes him. Mike’s playing her for a fool.

“Say the word, Kat. And I’m yours,” he says.

Tasha shoots me a dirty looks before stalking off toward her black Mazda Miata. I wait for her to get into her car and leave. Then I yank my wrist away.

“Like I wanna be with a guy who’ll sleep with anything that breathes.”

“You wouldn’t be so picky if it weren’t for your physics partner.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, sliding one of his fingers under my bra strap.

I swat at him and take a step back. Mike is such a prick.

“I heard you tried to punch him in the parking lot.”

“Who told you?”

“Are you kidding? The entire school is talking about the crazy jock who can’t control his temper. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Quinn.”

“Did it hurt, Kat, when I cheated on you? Because lately you act like you don’t give a—”

“It hurt like hell! How dare you stand here and accuse me of not caring!”

Catching Mike with his pants down behind a dumpster was about the last thing I needed after helping him sort out his Roland guilt. Where was the gratitude, the appreciation, the commitment I more than deserved?

Mike grabs me by the belt loops and hauls me toward him. His hands squash me up against his chest as he kisses me. My body purrs. Damn him. I have a right to move on! I wrench myself free and slap him across the face.

“You two need to get a room,” John says.

“Shut up!” Mike hollers. He puts a hand to his red cheek, turns on his heel and stalks across the lawn. When he slams his front door, my hands start shaking. Living next to him is torture.

I’ll never date another “boy-next-door” again.

13

Quinn

When I walk into my physics class after a week of doing all my schoolwork at home, I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m glad to be at school. On the other, I still have to work with Kat. And I swear that girl has something against me. Her shoulders go stiff when I take my seat.

“You didn’t get into any trouble, did you?” I ask her.

“Nope. I’m the damsel in distress.” She bats her long lashes, fanning herself with the palm of her hand.

Molly reaches back and grabs my fingers. From the corner of my eye, I see Kat rolling her eyes. Is it really so unbelievable that a great girl like Molly would like me?

“I’ve missed you,” my gorgeous redhead whispers.

Even though Molly has tried to call me almost every day for the last week, we’ve yet to go out again. My dad put me on house arrest after I got suspended. No phone, no computer, no time with friends, no television.

“Can I see you tonight?” she asks.

“Where do you want to meet?”

“I’ll come over,” she says, grinning.

But if she comes over, I’ll have to come clean about Amy and Elijah. And I doubt she’ll want to hang out if she knows about my messed up family.

“I’d rather it just be you and me,” I say. “We should meet someplace else.”

“But your mother’s in Europe, your Dad will be teaching and Amy’s at BYU. Come on, Quinn, we’ll be totally alone.” So maybe I haven’t been completely upfront with Molly. Figures that would blow up in my face.

“Amy’s home,” I say, as I stare at a jagged crack on the edge of the table. “She decided to take a year off.”
Or three
.

“Then why don’t I see her at church?”

When Mrs. Williams walks into the room, I breathe a sigh of relief. Molly lets go of my hand and faces forward. Our crazy teacher comes over to our table and narrows her eyes at Kat.

“Since my fire assignment isn’t good enough for you, Ms. Jackson. I’ve decided to dismiss you and your partner from class today. You have exactly one hour to come up with a project of your own, something your
father
will approve of.”

She hands Kat and me hall passes. Mine looks like a baseball with black marker scribbled over it. Kat’s is a giant yellow plastic key. The kind you might “win” at an arcade when you don’t have enough tickets to pick anything better.

“You’d better not throw that thing,” my partner says with a teasing grin as we step into the hall. “It might dent a locker and get you expelled.”

I clench my teeth. “And now that you’ve effectively ruined Mrs. William’s opinion of us, what do you suggest we do for our project?”

“I’m not the one who broke a window,” she points out, holding open the door that leads to the parking lot.

She takes the sidewalk toward the rear of the building, passing a set of double doors, a grungy green dumpster, a red sedan. I chase after her as she reaches the chain-link fence separating the asphalt from the football field. We’re only a hill away from the bleachers. The wind blows. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Re-extending my offer from the first day of school.”

I glare at her back. “I told you I don’t date bad girls who treat me like crap.”

She turns so fast I almost run into her. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Maybe I’m not as bad as you think.”

She lifts the bottom of her chocolate brown shirt, which is only a few shades darker than her skin. At the sight of her unadorned stomach and the line of muscle running up to parts unknown, my jaw goes slack. I imagine drool dripping from the corner of my mouth and shut it fast. What has come over me? It isn’t as if I’ve never seen Kat’s belly before. She’s shown it to the whole school for crying-out-loud.

But this seems different. For one thing she’s wearing long slacks and a top that covers her most prominent feature. For another, the girl looks as if she might actually mean what she says. I shake my head, pushing away the insane thought that Kat has donned this look for me.

“Come on, Quinn.” She puts a hand on my elbow.

“I don’t date girls who think I’m brainwashed either.”

Kat may be sexy, but I know exactly what she thinks of my religion. There’s no way she’s grown up in Pastor Jackson’s shadow without his hateful ideology rubbing off on her. And after losing half a dozen friends to the man’s opinions, I’m all too familiar with what he believes.

She snorts.

“Don’t deny it,” I say, shaking off her hand. I march down the hill and climb to the top of the bleachers, sit and tilt my eyes to the sky. A hawk is making circles overhead. The bench shifts below me at her approach.

I turn and look Kat in the eye, determined to unsettle her the way she unsettles me. But she doesn’t flinch; instead she looks right back. Her green eyes, framed by long dark lashes, pull me in like a tractor beam. I swallow and focus on a chickenpox scar to the left of her eyebrow. Getting hung up on Kat’s eyes is the last thing I need.

“You and I should have a heart to heart,” she says.

“You’re taunting me.”

“No, I’m serious.”

A strand of dark hair falls across her face. I glance at her mouth, expecting to see a sneer or a laugh, something to indicate this is all a big joke. Instead she drops her eyes to her knees as if embarrassed.

My cheeks warm with guilt as I think of my mother. She would be ashamed. I hear her voice in my head.
Judge not that ye be not judged
.

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask in a soft voice.

“Do you hate me, Quinn?”

Now there’s a question I never expected to hear coming from Kat. She annoys me to no end, but I wouldn’t call it hate. More like dislike. No, dislike is too strong, wariness maybe?

“Of course I don’t hate you.”

“Then why won’t you go out with me?”

My throat goes dry. Did Kat have a personality transplant while I was gone? Or is she one of those girls who acts nice when you’re alone, but treats you like a used piece of gum in front of her friends? That seems more likely.

“You’re not my type,” I say.

“I wish you’d let me change your mind.” She puts her hand on my arm.

My heart thrums faster. I take the backpack off my shoulder and place it on my lap to hide my body’s reaction to her touch. “Let’s stick to physics, okay?”

“Fine,” she sighs, opening her backpack to pull out her book. She balances it on her knees, flips it open to the table of contents and looks at me with eyes which shine like jewels against her dark skin.

I can’t look away, and for a split second I wonder what it would be like to kiss her. My gaze drops to her mouth, her bottom lip slightly fuller than the top, the alluring crease along the upper edge. How would those lips feel on mine?

Clasping my bag more securely in place, I blink away the thought. Too many days at home without human contact.

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?” I unzip my backpack, pull out my book and flip open my text. My eyes focus on some random words. Not that I’m reading or anything.

“If you want to kiss me, I’m game.”

I shake my head.

“Oh, come on. We’re alone. Don’t be such a stick in the mud. I promise not to bite … well,” she says. “Not unless you want me to.”

She puts a hand over her mouth to hide her laugh. It’s a nice laugh, deep and sexy.

“Not a good idea.” I need to say something snarky, anything to keep her from looking at me like a girl in one of my late night fantasies.

“You only date Mormon girls?”

I narrow my eyes at her, gripping the strap on my bag.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” she says as if she knows me.

“You wouldn’t know truth if it bit you in the rear end.” I tap my sneakers on the metal bleachers. “It isn’t about religion, Kat. It’s about staying chaste.”