Indigo (3 page)

Shawn nods, and John shakes his head in amazement. “Sick man. How much to let me ride it?”

As I expect, Shawn’s answer is sarcastic. “In your dreams dude, no one rides Betty but me.” He makes a lewd motion with his hips making most of the table guffaw with laughter.

John rolls his eyes. “How about you Kenny, how much to let me take that Jeep for a spin?” he asks, referring to my brand new top of line—if I do say so myself--SRT8 Jeep Wrangler. My mom gave it to me as an early birthday present a couple weeks ago, half because she knew it was my dream car, and half because she wouldn’t want anyone to see me driving anything less but the newest model. My last car was barely three years old when she traded it in behind my back.

“Not happening, man. You’re stuck taking your dates out in that shitty Prius.”

Everyone laughs and we joke for a few more minutes until I notice a few of the guys focused on a table near the door. I follow their gaze and see Indigo with that girl from class, and once again I’m surprised by my swift and gut-punching reaction to her. Her dark hair hangs like a black curtain down her back, reaching nearly to her waist, and her features are so delicate and small she looks like some sort of doll. Keeping my gaze on her, I rub my stomach in confusion, wondering how this tiny wisp of a girl could make me feel so undone. I think it was her eyes. It was the way the rest of her body looked so calm and serene, but her big blue eyes told a different story all together. At least to me.

“That’s that girl who was kidnapped right?” I hear someone ask.

“Yup,” John answers, as if he’s an authority on the subject. “She was like 15 though, so I don’t think it can count as a kidnapping.”

“Maybe the kidnappers thought she was younger when they took her,” Shawn shrugs, finishing the last of his burger. “She’s so damn small, I could see it happening.”

“What exactly did happen?” I ask. My mom mentioned to me a few times over the summer that Indigo was coming to Fairbanks in the fall, but I never thought on it past the conversation. She was excited over the prospect of the publicity it might bring to the school, and that it would encourage the idea that Fairbanks is a safe environment. I knew who Indigo Olsen was of course, everyone did, but I never really paid attention to the details. Suddenly, I’m interested and I wait impatiently as John chews his food before answering.

He brings his eyes to mine after he swallows. “Grabbed from her bedroom by this psycho couple, Richard and Joan Huff. They kept her locked in a basement for a few months, and then drove her aimlessly around the country for a while. Pretty sure they raped her and shit, and obviously she has that awful scar. Don’t know how she got it, though. Either they never released that information, or she didn’t say.” he finishes in nonchalance, as if he didn’t just relay a horrible fucking tragedy. My gut twists as the information sinks in.

“Jesus,” Shawn shakes his head. “People are fucking sick.”

“She was rescued at some gas station in Wyoming. Her hair was dyed blonde and supposedly she barely spoke about what happened. Pissed the police off.”

Overwhelmed at the story, my heart speeds up as I glance over at her with fresh eyes. She’s smiling at something, but I notice her hand touch the side of her face every once and while, fingering her scar, as if it’s always on her mind. It’s hard to wrap
my
mind around the reality that the Indigo from the awful story, is the gorgeous girl in front of me.

“She’s got some serious Jekyll and Hyde going on, but she’s still fine as hell,” a senior named Dave comments dryly. The table erupts in laughter around me causing a few other tables glance our way. I meet Shawn’s eyes, he rolls his, and without a word we both get up from the table. I’ve never really been into laughing at someone else’s expense, and I definitely am not laughing at hers.

“It’s hard to look at her now and imagine all that crap,” I admit out loud to Shawn, when we walk away from the table. The story feels heavy and I feel like I need to get it off my chest.

He nods. “Now I feel like even more of a douche bag for how I acted in class. I almost want to apologize.”

I grab my sandwich off my plate before tossing it, and as we head towards the door, I notice a few more heads turned in her direction, whispering. “She’s probably used to it.” The thought makes me feel grim. I’d hate that.

“C’mon, let’s go say hello,” Shawn says impulsively, veering off in their direction. “Plus, I’m seriously digging that chick she’s with. Two birds, one stone,” he waggles his eyebrows at me.

Although I’m used to Shawn’s spontaneity, I feel hesitant about just going over there. “I don’t think we should bother her,” I hedge. She probably just wants to be left the hell alone.

He looks at me with a WTF expression. “Women are never bothered when you say hello to them.”

He’s right, but I run my hand over the hair on the back of my head, still indecisive.

Shawn turns to face me. “You think she wants everyone to tiptoe around her and make her feel like an outcast? Grow some balls, man.”

I look at her as we head in their direction, and it’s in that moment, I realize he’s right. She’s probably used to people only seeing her past, used to people judging her by who she is and handling her with kid gloves. But what does she want? Does she want to be left alone, to be away from all the curious eyes? Or does she want to be treated as if her past didn’t happen, and have a normal life? I imagine I’d want both, and the lack of a clear black or white answer bothers me.

And just like that, familiar curiosity spikes and my stride picks up. I’m suddenly extremely impatient to talk to her and find out.

INDIGO

The cafeteria is small, and when we walk in, it seems as if the whole student population is crammed between the four walls. We weave our way through the teeming bodies to the food line, which is long, and head to the end.

“God how can you stand it?” Sabrina asks from beside me. Her head swings around as she notices the people looking in our direction. It’s hard not to.

I don’t pretend to misunderstand. “People are naturally curious.”

“These people act as if they have nothing better to do.”

“Aren’t you?” I ask, wanting her to admit it. A cynical side of me wants to assume it’s why she’s hanging out with me, but I decide to ignore the thought. “Curious I mean?”

“Of course,” she admits instantly, her eyes going to my scar. She flips her curly hair over her shoulder. “But staring at you obnoxiously won’t get me any answers.”

I hope that doesn’t mean she’s going to ask me directly, so when she turns to stand on her tip toes and gage the long line, I relax. About ten minutes later, we finally make our way towards the front and my stomach growls as I see all the food on display. I nearly choose one of everything, causing Sabrina to gape at my tray.

“Where are you going to put all of that?” she wonders. I see that she only has grilled chicken on a salad and a vitamin water.

“I love food,” I admit with as I swipe my cafeteria card. “You’d probably be surprised at how much I can eat.”

“What I’m surprised about is how you maintain that killer body on a diet of grease!”

We turn to scope out the tables, and my eyes hone in on one in the back. “I dance and that burns a lot of calories, but I’ve always had a fast metabolism. Do you mind if we sit over there, by the door?”

She agrees, mumbling about good genes, and we once again weave our way to the other side of the cafeteria, this time with me precariously balancing my heavy tray. I try to ignore how uncomfortable I am with the large crowd of people around us. The feeling of being caged in starts to press in on my chest, so I’m relieved when we finally get to the table and sit down.

“Speaking of dancing,” she says as she twists open her water. “What are you doing this weekend?”

I shrug. “Nothing, I still have some unpacking to do and I need to get settled in.”

“I’m going to go check out that 18 and over club everyone’s talking about. It seems like the only thing there is to do in the godforsaken town. Want to come with?”

I picture myself amongst gyrating hormonal bodies and my stomach flips. “I don’t think so. It’s not really my thing.”

She pouts. “Aw c’mon, pretty please. I don’t really have anyone else to ask, and you can’t want to sit alone in your room all weekend!”

Actually, that’s exactly what I want to do, but I laugh when I look up from my food to see her bottom lip pushed out comically. “Maybe another time.”

It’s not that I don’t like being around other people, and I did come here with a fresh mindset, determined to try new things, but I don’t want to push myself too fast. A lot of people in one place makes me nervous because it’s impossible to keep eyes on everyone.

“I’m holding you to that,” she answers, grabbing a fry off my plate and munching thoughtfully. “Man, if not for the dance program and a tuition I can actually afford, I don’t know why I moved out to this one-horse town. There’s nothing to do.”

I don’t respond because my mouth is full of food, and she takes in my expression before bursting into laughter. “Ya know, I’m really interested to see you dance.”

I’m grateful she doesn’t keep pushing for me to go out, most people don’t know when to stop. “Never say that in front of my mom,” I reply. “She’d be way too happy to show you all the hundred or so videos she has of all my recitals.”

Her eyes light up. “Think she’d mail them to a virtual stranger?”

“Maybe I’ll show them to you if you let me hear you sing.”

“Is that a deal? Because that won’t be a problem for me, if you haven’t noticed yet, I’m not very shy.” A wicked smile comes over her face and she’s about to say something else when another table bursts into laughter from somewhere behind us. We both look over, and we both notice that more than a few of the guys are looking in my direction. Sabrina scowls and turns back around to face me, picking at her salad. Neither of us mentions the possibility that they’re probably laughing at me. I ignore the sharp sting of sadness that passes me through me, concentrate more on the anger, and then wait for both of the feelings to fade.

“People that they think are funny, often are not,” she tells me seriously, stabbing her fork in my direction for emphasis.

“In their case, more like funny looking.” My comment is ironic, since I’m the one with the disfigured face.

Sabrina bursts into loud laughter again, getting my subtle joke. “That’s twice you’ve made me laugh today. I like you Indigo, you’re good for my health.”

“Well if isn’t Sabrina who loves debating and hates men.”

A smooth male voice surprises us both, and we look up to see a guy come to a stop at our table. His face is vaguely familiar, and I realize he was in our last class. I can’t remember his name but I’m pretty sure he plays the guitar. Sabrina recovers instantly, and I see a sure smile lock in place.

“Shawn, what great timing you have. Indigo and I were just discussing funny looking men.”

He narrows his eyes and grins at her with the confidence of someone who knows he’s far from funny looking. With his wavy blond hair and piercing green eyes, it’s probably safe to say no one has ever laughed at his appearance. “Good, you remember my name,” he quips. “I like to get small talk out of the way quickly.”

He pulls out a chair and takes an unannounced seat next to her. I don’t hear what she says next, because it’s at that moment I see Kennedy is standing behind him, staring fixedly at me. A small flutter goes loose in my stomach as I marvel again at his height, knowing his large frame would all but tower over me. The flutter disintegrates at the thought and shots of unease ripple under my skin instead. I look back down at my plate to mask any emotions that might be playing across my face.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” He gestures one large hand toward the seat beside mine.

I once again find myself unconsciously responding to the low timber of his voice, the tone of it like nothing I’ve ever heard. I look up and take note of his raised eyebrows, realizing he asked the question several seconds ago while I was busy listening to his voice hang in the air.

“Sure,” I finally answer, because what else can I say? I force myself to give him a smile for his politeness compared to Shawn. As he sits down, I find I’m relieved he’s not on the side that has my scar, but then immediately feel depressed over the thought. It’s not like he doesn’t know it’s there. It’s not like I can ever hide it.

He must notice my forlorn expression because he gestures at my massive lunch and chuckles, “Food that bad? You must have something good on there.”

“Oh...no.” I laugh once, turning to meet his gaze for a bare second before looking away. “Actually to be honest, I’ve already eaten a ton of it.”

I can tell my admission amuses him and he shifts his body so it’s facing mine. “Are you telling me you’ve eaten two thousand pounds of food?”

Confusion clouds in for a moment before I realize he was joking. I try to smother my smile, feeling shyer than usual. “I was kidding. No one can eat 32,000 ounces of food, at least not in one sitting.”

A slow grin crawls across his face, and I try not to study his dimple when it appears next to his lip. After all, I would never want him looking closely at my face in return. And I don’t want to think about how strikingly handsome he is, the dimple like adding a small chip so no one will be completely blinded by his smile.