CinderEli (2 page)

Tamping down whatever emotion it was that was
making me feel a little nauseated, I crossed the locker room toward
the gym entrance. I scanned the basketball court first, then the
bleachers. Finally, over in the corner, emptying one of the garbage
cans into his cart, I saw my father.

“Hey, Pop.”

Dad looked up at me with tired eyes, but his
smile was wide as he set the trash can back on the ground. As I got
closer, I noticed the deeper wrinkles around his brown eyes, the
gray streaking through his dark hair and eyebrows. When was the
last time I really looked at my father? It was like he was aging
right before my eyes. Guilt settled in the pit of my stomach like a
stone. I knew he didn’t like being a janitor. Who would? I wished
again, for the millionth time at least, that he would let me get an
afterschool job. But he wouldn’t. Every time I’d tried to talk to
him about it, he’d shut me down, saying, “This is your time, son.
Your mother would’ve wanted you to go to college, and we’re not
going to let her down.” How could I argue with that?

“Well, this is a nice surprise. I would have
thought you’d be halfway home by now.”

I shook my head. “Actually, I wanted to let
you know, I’m not going straight home. I’ve got plans.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and he grinned.
“Plans with a girl?”

“It’s not like that, Dad. She’s my Chemistry
partner, and my grade depends on her. I need to pass this
class.”

He nodded, but his expression clearly said he
didn’t believe me.

A door crashed open at the other end of the
gym, and heavy footsteps echoed in the large room. “Hey hey, what
do we have here? The trash taking out the trash?”

Brad. I knew that voice well.

“This is how he treats his family?” my dad
muttered under his breath but pasted on a fake smile as we turned
to face my cousin.

“Brad,” I greeted, not bothering with the
fake smile as he crossed the gym toward us. I didn’t like him just
as much as he didn’t like me. No sense pretending.

“Don’t mind me. I just came back to grab my
jersey. I was so busy scoring a date with Candy Dupree after fourth
period, I forgot it.” It was a lame attempt at reminding me how
popular he was. And how unpopular I was. “Later, loser.” He passed
me, shoving a shoulder into mine on his way. I caught my balance
before the blow could knock me over and glared at Brad’s back as he
sauntered outside.

“I can’t believe she used to date that jerk,”
I mumbled to myself after the door shut behind Brad.

“Who?” my dad asked, snapping me back from my
thoughts of Katie and Brad together.

“No one. I’ll see you later, Pop.” I exited
through the same door Brad had, preparing myself for the fact that
he would probably have more insults, but he was already gone by the
time I got outside.

****

Katie’s house was huge, a veritable fortress of stone
and wrought iron. The stone wall surrounding her property was
almost as tall as my house, and the gate stood even higher than the
wall. I pulled out my phone and double-checked the address she’d
texted to me. 3684 Amberly. I was definitely at the right house—or
rather, mansion. I walked up to the call box next to the driveway,
feeling a little conspicuous not being in a vehicle. I could still
back out. I could catch the next bus home in—I checked the
time—twenty-three minutes. Maybe I could just text her and tell her
I hadn’t been feeling well or something. Anything was better than
studying with her in a house bigger than my block, pretending I
wasn’t a poor kid from the poor side of town. Her dad was probably
a lawyer, or a doctor, or something expensive like that. Mine was a
janitor. At our school.

Before I could turn tail and run back to the
bus stop two blocks away, the iron gates opened and the call box
buzzed. “Hey Roman!” Katie’s voice came through the speaker,
cheerful and excited, like she was happy I was there. “Come on in.
I’ll meet you at the front door.”

The box buzzed and clicked off. It was too
late to run now.

I squared my shoulders, adjusted my backpack
on my back, and started through the gate. At least the walk up her
ridiculously long, brick-paved driveway would give me a chance to
think of something clever to say when I got to her door.

I looked up at the house, at least three
stories high, with a stone façade that matched the wall around the
property. Almost a full flight of wide steps led to the dark wood
French doors. As I started up the steps, one of the French doors
opened and Katie stepped out. Her hair was tied back in a loose
bun, and her feet were bare under a calf-length, floral sundress. I
couldn’t take my eyes off her. The toe of my sneaker caught the top
of the last step, and I stumbled. Heat crept into my cheeks as I
caught my balance. Maybe she hadn’t noticed.

“I hear that tripping-over-your-own-feet
thing is going around lately.” She smirked playfully, and my
embarrassment lessened just a bit. “Come on in.” She stepped back
into the house and pushed the door open wider for me to follow her
through.

I barely registered the door clicking shut
behind me as I took in the opulence inside Katie’s house. A
staircase as wide as my living room rose up from the center of the
dark wood floor and curled out in two branches before meeting at
the banistered landing above. And the monster of a crystal
chandelier hanging from the sky-high ceiling probably had its own
zip code. My entire house could probably have fit inside this
entryway. I was suddenly very aware of all the scuffs on my
slightly too small, three-year-old sneakers and the frays at the
hems of my pant legs. What would Katie say if she knew I lived in
an eight-hundred-square-foot house with twenty-year-old
furniture—some of which was so worn we kept sheets over it so the
stuffing wouldn’t fall out? She’d probably be disgusted. Or worse,
pity me.

Either she didn’t notice my awe, or she chose
not to acknowledge it. “We can study in the rec room.” She flitted
past me, grabbing my hand along the way. Her hand was warm in mine,
and the touch sent a little thrill through me. I fought the urge to
look down at our joined hands, instead letting her lead me through
the house.

The rec room turned out to be a small arcade,
only with better furniture. The room was massive and filled with
everything I’d ever dreamed of owning: a pool table, arcade games,
gaming systems, a wet bar. Band and movie posters lined the walls
at regular intervals, accentuated by light fixtures and underlined
with small bar tables and stools. The room was a party waiting to
happen. Did Katie actually hold parties here? I would have, if this
was my rec room.

“This is where you study?”

She shook her head. “I don’t usually.”

“Study here?” Where did she study then?

“At all.” And suddenly I wasn’t interested in
the games or fantasizing about throwing parties in this theme park
of a rec room. Clearly, I was going to have to work very hard for
my A in Chemistry if Katie wasn’t the studying type.

Three

Katie

“
So, that’s basically it,”
Roman told me as he
closed his book and uncrossed his legs. Thank goodness! We’d been
studying for close to two hours, sitting cross-legged on the floor,
knees touching, and we hadn’t spoken to one another any more than
had been necessary. I couldn’t have concentrated on Chemistry if it
was my favorite subject. It definitely wasn’t.

Now that our study time was almost over, I
wasn’t ready to let him go yet. I wanted to spend more time with
him, maybe get to know a little about my lab partner besides the
fact that he obviously knew a crap-ton more about Chemistry than I
could ever hope to learn. I checked the time on my phone: 6:52. We
had at least three hours before my parents would be home. I always
hated being alone in this big house at night, but it seemed like
they were always away at some function or dinner.

“Hey, wanna get a pizza? I’m starved.” Was my
voice a little too loud? The last thing I wanted was to come off as
desperate for him to stay. Even if I kind of was.

“Uh,” he glanced at his watch, “sure.”

“I’ll order. What d’ya like?” I dialed the
number even while I was asking the question. Was it weird that I
knew the number by heart?

In minutes, I’d placed the order, and we’d
fallen into an awkward silence. I wracked my brain trying to think
of something to break the tension. Finally, “Hey, have you
seen 
The Hollow Effect?
” Did he even like horror
movies?

“I haven’t yet, but I’ve been wanting
to.”

Score.

“Yeah, me too! I’ve been thinking about
renting it. Wanna watch it?” Hopefully, I sounded calmer than I
felt. I was already picturing cuddling up to him in the dark,
burying my face in his neck at the scary parts.

“Yeah, okay. That would be cool.” Talk about
a lukewarm reaction. Suddenly, I was losing my nerve. Did he really
want to be here? Maybe he just felt sorry for the weird girl who
was so klutzy she’d fallen all over him in front of thirty other
students.

I tried not to think too much about it as I
led him to the media room. But, by the time I had the movie ready
to stream through the projector and turned to face Roman, he’d
bypassed the twelve single-seat leather recliners and opted for the
only loveseat. Maybe he’d picked the seat because it was front and
center, and admittedly the best seat in the room. He had his shoes
kicked off, one arm folded behind his head, and when he noticed me
watching him, he patted the seat next to him in invitation. Maybe
he
was
interested. I flipped off the light, grabbed the
remote, and joined him on the loveseat.

He was all heat next to me. His breaths were
coming in nearly silent, shallow bursts. It was a short, nervous
sort of panting, like prey caught in a trap. I ran a casual hand
through my hair, then let it fall to rest on the black leather
between us, barely an inch from his own hand.

I feigned an interest in the movie, even
though I couldn’t have concentrated on anything but Roman and how
close his hand was to my fingertips. When his breathing evened, I
shifted just a fraction of a hairsbreadth so that my pinky rested
over his thumb. He shivered under the touch, but kept his gaze
locked on the screen.

Sliding over in my seat, I pressed my arm
against his. When he didn’t pull away, I laid my head on his
shoulder. A moment passed, then two. Finally, Roman turned his head
and shifted in his seat just enough to look down at me without
breaking the contact between us. I tilted my face to look up into
his eyes and sucked in a nervous breath. His eyes closed to half
mast, and I was almost certain he was about to kiss me.

Buzz.
The intercom to the front gate
buzzed. Someone was here. Whoever it was had the worst timing in
the world. As I looked up at Roman, he licked his lips nervously.
Maybe he was just as aware of me as I was of him, but was just
better at pretending not. I considered ignoring whoever was out
there. Until the buzzer sounded again.

I practically fell out of the loveseat on my
way to the intercom and all but slammed my hand down on the button.
“What?” Did I sound as frustrated as I felt?

“Pizza,” a young, male voice called through
the speaker.

I rested my forehead on the wall next to the
speaker and sighed. I’d forgotten all about the pizza. With a quick
and apologetic look over my shoulder to Roman, I buzzed the pizza
guy in and headed for the front door to meet him.

****

My best attempts to not stare awkwardly at Roman
while I stuffed my face with pepperoni and cheese were failing
miserably. Every time he licked his lips, I imagined having those
pink lips pressed against mine. He seemed to be trying just as hard
to not look at me—only he was succeeding. There was something about
Roman, something different from other guys. He wasn’t aggressive
like they were, didn’t try to get to second base the minute we were
alone. And he’d seemed almost relieved when the delivery guy
interrupted our almost kiss.

We ate in silence, and the whole time, I was
wracking my brain trying to think of something halfway-intelligent
to say. I finally settled on humor. “So, that’s the hottest horror
movie
I’ve
ever seen.” I gestured to the projector screen
across the room, where the movie we weren’t really watching was
paused.

Roman flushed an endearing shade of rose pink
and nodded. Then he quickly shoved another bite of pizza into his
mouth. I couldn’t tell if that meant he enjoyed what had almost
happened or was busy trying to think of a way to get out of
there.

Our silence was interrupted by a series of
tinny, cartoon-like chirps sounding from the vicinity of Roman’s
pants. I eyeballed the offending area in an attempt to figure out
what the noise was, realizing just a moment too late that I was
giving him the creepy-stare. Roman set his paper plate on the seat
next to him and fished his cell out of his pocket.

“Hey, Pop?” he answered. I could hear a voice
on the other end, but couldn’t make out the words. “Yeah, sure. I
can be ready in a few minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

He was leaving.

Roman ended the call and sent a quick text
before shoving his phone back into his jeans. Then he smiled at me
apologetically. “That was my dad. He’s on his way home and said he
could swing by and pick me up so I don’t have to take the bus
home.”

“Oh, well, do you live far? I could drive
you…” Did I sound too needy? Truth was, I wasn’t all that
altruistic—I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

Roman seemed to consider my offer for a
moment. “No, that’s okay. He’s probably almost here now.” He stood
and reached for his sneakers, slipping them on without untying
them. When he’d gathered all of his stuff, I followed him to the
front door.