Deceived (8 page)

“Reassigned?” His eyes narrowed further.

“My dad? Yeah, for work.”

For a tiny second, his face showed surprise, but he covered it and a smirk appeared. “For work.” He nodded.

“Yeah.” I had caught his interest. “He travels on business, and sometimes it means we have to move. Actually, it always means we have to move.”

He smiled as if we had shared a joke. His lips parted, and then his phone rang. Injustice.

He held up one finger and stepped away from me, angling himself to see me, but keeping his voice low and his words brief. I wished I could read lips. The mowers stopped, and voices danced in the distance. School would begin soon. A handful of maintenance men walked to the parking lot. I envied them. Their day was probably over. Mine hadn’t started. Brian shoved the phone inside his pocket and returned to me.

I’d had just enough time to pack up my things.

“Where are you going?” He looked annoyed.

“To the library. You’re not supposed to have a phone on campus, you know.”

“I didn’t.” His tone and expression confirmed his lie as truth.

I blinked. “So, where are you from? I mean, before coming here?”

“D.C.” His brows twitched. He was new, too.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words never escaped.

He bent to tie his shoe.

I looked away, clearing my head and breathing in the spice of his cologne and a hint of shampoo or soap.

“Talk to you later.” Not a question. He stood poker straight and strode away, leaving me alone, confused, bewildered, and a touch irritated.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Davis was twenty or thirty feet away, closing in on me at a racer’s pace. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Black. I had smelled it the moment he reached me.

“I missed you at the coffee shop. I figured you’d be there. I skipped hotcakes in the dining hall for you.” He winked playfully. “Hey, was that Austin?”

I scanned the horizon. There was no trace of my mystery man. As nice as he’d been in private, he still didn’t seem to want to be seen with me in public. My heart cracked. What was wrong with him? The fact that Davis had called him Austin and not Brian reminded me that I’d never found out whether Davis was a first or last name. Until I did, I refused to direct any name his way. If I started calling guys by their last names, where would it end? Would I be slapping them on their rears every time they walked away, too?

“Bell’s going to ring. I’ll walk you.”

I lifted my backpack and turned in the direction of the growing crowd at the fountain.

“So, was it Austin?”

“Yeah. Do you know anything about him? Like who his roommate is or how he ended up here?”

Davis slowed. Concern covered his face as if I’d hurt his feelings.

“We’re both new, so I wondered. Umm.” I chewed on my lip.

His face relaxed a little.

“Where are you from?” I gave my most encouraging smile. Davis’s stocky build and messy blond hair practically screamed all-American guy. If I’d ever imagined having a boy next door, he would’ve looked like Davis.

Davis told me about his lacrosse scholarship. His family lived in Pennsylvania, owned a small carpet company, and hoped to give him a better education than they could afford. He was in the running for a scholarship to Yale in the fall if he kept his grades up and stayed out of trouble. A very normal scenario.

I approved.

“Elle!” Pixie’s voice squealed from a closing distance. The second person in ten minutes to chase me down, and the third in an hour to seek me out. Not normal. She ran full speed toward me. Smack! She whipped my shoulder with her notebook. “Why did you leave? I had a ton of stuff to tell you this morning, and you weren’t there. I love our morning routine, and you ditched me.” She looked sincerely offended.

“Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I missed you, too.” I hugged her. “I definitely won’t do it again.”

She looked me up and down and then pulled her mouth to one side. “Fine. I forgive you then. I hope your little escape was worth it.”

Oh, it was definitely worth it, but I couldn’t talk about that yet.

“Hey, Davis.” She raised her coffee into the air. “Looks like you found her.” Her eyes moved to mine.

“Yep.” I raised my cup.

She smiled wider somehow.

Kate arrived a minute later. Our little circle grew until the bell rang. When we all moved toward the front doors, Davis fell back a step and tilted his head toward mine.

“Come on,” Kate whined.

To my surprise, Davis waved her on without him.

“You want to come watch practice after school?”

“Sure.” Who said that? No, I didn’t want to watch practice after school. My new school would be the death of me. I sucked down the black coffee, still hot from being covered, and scalded my throat. “Thanks for the coffee,” I choked.

Davis smiled like he’d won a prize and headed in the direction of his homeroom.

I didn’t hear two words my Trigonometry teacher spoke. I wrote frantically in my journal the entire class period. I wrote a heading: “What stinks?” The list covered an entire page before my mind drifted to my mother. Truth be told, my mother’s absence had never sat well. I had no closure and no answers. I understood Dad’s heartache but not his reluctance to share her memory with me. All I had left were shreds of childish memories and whispers of her voice, long muted by years of her absence. The fact that I had no other family to ask about her made the hole in my heart bigger. Having anyone in the world who had loved her as I had and was willing to remind me of her would’ve helped. I had no one. When the bell rang, I anchored my feet to the floor. I had to act casual. Shake off things not worth dwelling on and focus on those I had a chance of learning.

Three minutes later, I sat in English. Three desks back, I faced my mystery man. He sat sideways in the row against the wall, leaning into it and stretching his legs into the aisle. Brian barely made eye contact. He gave no sign that he knew me. No clue he’d sought me out that morning. An infuriating hour later, class let out. The teacher and most of the class disappeared within seconds. Brian stayed seated. I fiddled with my backpack, hoping he’d look my way as he passed and headed out the door. When he finally stood, the room was empty aside from the two of us.

I waited.

“You have nowhere to be?”

“Study hall, with you.” I raised my eyebrows.

His face held no expression of recognition. Surely he had noticed that we had an entire schedule together, aside from homeroom and Trig? When he made no sign of speaking again, I turned for the door, my cheeks suddenly on fire.

“Elle.”

I turned back.

“I’d like it very much if we could be friends.”

I gagged internally.

“I know that’s probably not something you’ll find acceptable. I’m not acting much like a friend, am I?”

My hands anchored to my hips. “No. You’re not. In Elton, you were at least friendly, and now you’re hot and cold. You won’t be seen talking to me. No one knows where you came from.”

He winced at the word
Elton
. His eyes definitely widened a fraction at the last accusation. He smiled. “You’re asking around about me?”

“Maybe.”

“Why not ask me?”

Because you’re never around. Because you have a habit of taking off before I can. Because your sculpted chin and perfect, square jawline distract me.

“Fine.” My eyes jumped to the clock over the door. I dared an apologetic smile before knocking twice on my desk and turning away once more. I needed to go before the next bell rang or I combusted, whichever came first.

He chuckled.

I turned.

Brian stretched, resting interlocked fingers behind his head, elbows pointing out. Beneath his shirt, his biceps bulged and the muted outline of his tattoo taunted me. Images of his bare chest and tan arms clogged my mind and throat. My head lightened. I spun on my heels and headed for the door alone, dodging the dribble of students arriving for class. I had a feeling he watched me leave. All those years spent on the treadmill just paid off.

Pixie was already seated when I got to study hall, and her knees bounced a wild rhythm. She drew patterns in the carpet with the eraser end of her pencil. When she looked up, she started and clapped her hands in a fast silent way, then patted the carpet beside her. I sat and she shoved a paper at me with words already written.

“Every girl in this school is going insane over your boy.” Thank goodness she didn’t name him in case of note confiscation.

“I don’t blame them.” I was enamored and infuriated. I had no idea how to act. Dad and I had never stayed anywhere long enough for me to get involved. The handful of dates I’d been on hadn’t had half the thrill of sitting across the room from Brian. I’d walked into new territory on a number of levels. I couldn’t stay mad. When he wasn’t being a colossal jerk, he seemed like the guy I had met at the coffee shop. Maybe Pixie was right. Being at a new school was tough for most people, and I had Pixie.

“Have you talked to him?”

Hmm. Lie or tell the truth? Cosmically on cue, he walked in. He looked more out of place than ever. His posture was perfect, his stride confident. He walked to the table he had sat at the day before and dropped his bag before making a trip to the vending machine. His selection captured my attention as if the fate of my world depended on it. He bought a bottle of flavored water, returned to the table, and pulled an apple from his bag. I should’ve expected as much. He didn’t look like that by eating cafeteria food and drinking coffee.

Pixie shoved the paper at me again, having underlined the previous sentence three times.

“For a minute. Nothing fun.” I shrugged.

She looked at the ceiling and made a face that said “blah.” She turned to look at him, and I did, too.

He watched us.

I was suddenly hypersensitive to his every move. I loved and hated the exhilaration he brought.

He raised his bottle toward her and winked.

“Agh.” She looked at me, thoroughly disappointed. “Come on!” She wrote on the paper and then crumbled it into a ball.

She was done with me for now.

I looked at him one more time while I still had the nerve, but he was busy texting beside his stack of books. I went back to organizing my thoughts in my journal. When my pen died, I was forced to dig around inside my backpack for another. There was a neatly folded scrap of paper I didn’t recognize. Flipping it open, a number I didn’t know stared back at me.

“Pixie?” I whispered.

She glanced at the teacher, then me. He was involved in
Golf Digest
.

“Did Darcy get that job working in the office?”

Chapter Seven

After dinner, I excused myself from Pixie’s company and headed back to the library under the guise of my Sociology assignment, though it wouldn’t be my name I researched. I planned to find a favorite alcove there to call my own, continue my search for Brian, and maybe even look yet again into my family. I’d never found anything, but the Internet changed all the time. I couldn’t guess when a site might pop up with archived data on D.C. Smiths. My dad claimed ignorance. If I cracked either case, I’d have no doubt that courtrooms were in my future.

My phone rang as I reached the library doors. I smiled at the number on my screen. “Hey, Dad.”

“How’s my little girl?” His voice was like balm.

“Good.” I leaned against the wall, waiting to go inside.

“Listen, honey. I’m going to be in Ohio tomorrow. Can we have lunch?”

“Why will you be in Ohio?”

“Is that a no?” He chuckled. “Can’t a dad check in on his little girl?”

“I mean … I have school tomorrow. Were you planning to come to the cafeteria?” Had he lost his mind? I sent up a prayer that he’d say no.

“Right. You’re getting acclimated. Well, I’ll be in the area more. If you ever have time for your old man … ”

His work kept him away so much. I knew I should accept any time he offered, but part of me rebelled. When I had needed him in the past, he was always off working. I had a mission now and needed to stay focused. He was the one who taught me not to need him. The reasoning had holes, but whatever.

“I’ll call you soon.” The inflection in my voice made it sound more like a question.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Remember, if you need anything, I’ll be nearby.”

“Thanks.” After a feeble exchange of affection, we disconnected.

I pulled open the door and inhaled. Somewhere inside, a table, chair, and computer port had my name on them. The library brimmed with books but very few students. I had expected at least a few study groups. Only a handful of students were sprinkled around the cavernous room. I chose an oversized table and spread out my things in an alcove. No matter where I lived, the library felt like home. The familiar smells of paper, ink, worn leather, and wood soothed me like chatting with an old friend. Every librarian I had ever met shared the understated kindness trait I appreciated, too.

I nestled into the large wooden chair and logged in. Online and in the zone, I picked up where I had fallen asleep during my first attempt. Knowing Brian was from D.C., I started digging into the papers. I looked for articles on high school sports and scholarships. When that failed miserably, I switched gears. My attempt at locating Davis’s family and their carpet business turned out fruitful. The Internet still worked. When I’d searched for Brian, either the researcher or the search had been faulty. Opening a fresh window, I Googled my mom.

The lack of library patrons meant I didn’t have to hide my contraband. I cracked the top off the giant coffee I had picked up on my way in and inhaled the warm sweetness. By the time the coffee ran out, my fingers ached and my wrists were numb. I stretched in the hard wooden chair, no longer feeling very nestled, and rolled my head over my shoulders.

Dead end after dead end left me more determined. I couldn’t find anything more about Brian or my mom than I already knew, which was nothing. I moved on to my assignment, Googling myself, then my father. Changing my focus seemed in order, but there was nothing to find. I looked through all the papers local to D.C. and at the clerk of courts. I didn’t find a birth certificate for any of us, a death certificate for my mother, or even a record of their marriage.