Keep Me in Your Heart (34 page)

“Was it yours?”

“I wish.”

“It was okay,” she said with a shrug.

“The reference to classical mythology was a nice touch. And the use of
sun
with two meanings was pretty cool.”

She stopped and foot traffic flowed around them. “You read mythology, Malone? Or did you pick it up from Saturday morning cartoons?”

He felt color seep into his neck at her put-down. He didn’t understand why she was being so caustic and unfriendly. “I’ve read a lot of the old Greek and Roman stories. And I thought the poem Fuller read was deep. Didn’t you?” He held her gaze like a firebrand, determined not to let her get away with it.

She blinked, turned. “I like mythology too. Not sure if I liked the poem. I’ve got to go.”

He stepped in front of her. “Homeschooling isn’t a free ride, you know. I had to work hard and pass regular performance tests. I think public school—this school—is a cakewalk. Kids don’t seem like they care much about their classes, and most of them can’t carry on a conversation beyond next week’s football game or who’s dating whom.”

She didn’t respond right away, but he could tell he’d
gotten her attention. “Don’t think that I feel like homeschooling is inferior to this, because I don’t.” She sounded apologetic. “I think you’re lucky to have been able to be homeschooled. It implies somebody cares for you.”

“Are you saying nobody cares for you?”

The halls were almost empty now and she took a few steps backward toward the outside door. “Wrong assumption, Malone.”

It had been a stupid thing for him to ask. Of course somebody cared about her. She probably had a hundred somebodies who cared about her. He screwed up his courage. “Want to talk about it over coffee sometime? I can call you.”

“A date?” she asked.

“Why not? Pick a time and place.”

“I don’t date.”

He watched her step through the doorway into the bright afternoon sunlight. The motorcycle was waiting, and this time Nathan saw the driver more clearly: a lanky man with muscular arms and chest, work boots and dirty jeans. He wore a dark helmet and his long hair stuck out from under it. He handed Lisa a helmet and she slung her leg over the Harley’s seat, slipped her book bag onto her back. The man gunned the motor, kicked off from the curb. Nathan watched the cycle speed away.

Nathan told Skeet all that had happened on the ride home. Skeet listened and didn’t remind him about his prediction that Nathan would tumble for Lisa. “Takes courage to ask, man.”

“I don’t believe she doesn’t date,” Nathan grumbled.

“Hey, here’s something to cheer you up. Crestwater’s playing Highland Friday night, and Highland’s better. Which means that Roddy has a good chance of getting his butt kicked. Want to come watch with me?”

“Why not.” Nathan’s disdain for the jocks had grown over the past few days. They really did act as if they were a superior breed when he knew they weren’t. Rumor was that two had paid underclassmen to write papers for them, and if their teachers knew about it, they let it slide.

“And”—Skeet drummed on the dashboard—“rumor is there’s going to be a party after. Location to be revealed.”

An illegal party. Nathan knew his parents would never let him go. But then, why should he have to tell them? He was perfectly capable of attending a party without getting into trouble. It was about time that he struck out on his own, blew off steam and had some fun.

L
isa Lindstrom was unable to pinpoint the exact moment Nathan Malone came on her radar; she just knew that she slowly became aware of him, like a buzz one starts to hear in a quiet room. One minute all is silent, then a sound begins to break through a person’s subconscious and annoys until the person has to stop what she’s doing and go find the source. She tried to ignore him, this noise, but one day he broke through—she looked up and saw the most incredible blue eyes, fringed with thick dark lashes, staring at her. Nathan’s eyes.

She determined to steer clear, keep him at arm’s length as she did so many others, which would have been easier if she hadn’t sensed intelligence and sensitivity behind his eyes. Why couldn’t he be self-absorbed
like Roddy and his jock friends? Or shy? Or avant garde and far out like the goths? Instead he was lean, dark-haired and blue-eyed—an apparition sent to bedevil her when she had no time for it.

“Is that the guy?” Charlie Terry asked Friday afternoon when Lisa climbed onto the back of the cycle.

“What guy?”

“The one staring at you from the doorway.”

Lisa disliked the teasing tone in Charlie’s voice. “I should have kept my mouth shut and never mentioned him to you.”

“Why? I’m in favor of you finding somebody good enough for you.”

“Sorry. It’s not on my to-do list.” Lisa shoved on a helmet, fastened the chin strap.

“It should be.”

“Well, it isn’t.”

“You’re being stubborn, Lisa.”

“My life. My choice.” Charlie was dirty from the construction site where he worked, but she wrapped her arms around his chest anyway. “We leaving or sitting here all day?”

Charlie gunned the engine and kicked off from the curb.

By the start of the fourth quarter, it was evident that Highland was the better football team. Crestwater’s cheerleaders attempted to whip up the crowd, but enthusiasm was low. “Go team!” Skeet shouted.

Only Nathan knew his friend was cheering for the other team. “Your school spirit is awesome.”

“Ain’t it, though?” Skeet grinned, watching Roddy limp to the sidelines between two coaches. “Oo-o-o. Did the big mean tackle hurt you, Roddy?”

“I don’t think he can hear you.”

“And I don’t want him to either.” Skeet grinned again. “I’m going to grab a soda before they close the concession stand. Want anything?”

“I’m good.” Nathan watched Skeet pick his way down the bleachers. The crowd was beginning to thin, leaving the dismal game despite the cheerleaders’ frenzied shouting. Nathan’s gaze stopped cold on Lisa. She was sitting below him and to the far left beside a heavyset short-haired girl. His view of her had been blocked by others. Nathan was almost at the top of the bleachers, and he could see the parking lot. With cars pulling out, it was easier to distinguish the layout, and off to one side, he saw her Harley. It gleamed black and silver when headlights struck it. He didn’t see her “driver,” so that probably meant she’d ridden it to the game herself.

Nathan’s heart beat faster. Should he go down and accidentally bump into her? What would he say? He weighed his options, but before he could act, Skeet was back and Nathan decided to do nothing. He didn’t want to drag Skeet with him and risk a rebuff.

“I got a party update,” Skeet said. He pulled out a napkin with a crude map drawn on it. “It’s near Lake
Lanier. Some kid’s grandfather owns land out there and it’s very private.”

“That’s pretty far out. You sure you want to go?” Nathan was having second thoughts. He’d told his parents there was a school dance after the game and they’d extended his curfew until twelve-thirty. He hadn’t liked lying to them, especially to his mother, because she was so scared for him when he was out of her sight.

“Come on,” Skeet said as Highland made another touchdown. “We have to celebrate Highland’s victory some way or another.”

By the time they arrived at the designated farmland site, the party was in full swing. Cars were parked haphazardly on wet grass and a large bonfire danced in a fire pit. Kids swarmed around the crackling flames and among coolers full of beer and wine drinks. Music boomed from a portable amp hooked to a generator. Couples had already paired off and were dancing or slipping away into the darkness with blankets.

“Does this guy’s grandfather know about this?” Nathan asked.

“I doubt it. But we’ll be long gone by the time he hears about it. Smell that sweet air?” Skeet asked. “Weed. Want some? It’ll cost a few bucks.”

“No, and neither do you.” Nathan struggled with his conscience. On the one hand, he felt daring and bold; on the other, guilty. He shouldn’t even be here. What so many of the kids took as their regular rites, Nathan had never done. He’d spent a lifetime pinned
in place by his parents, and now he was a social retard—even by Skeet’s standards, who was hardly a party animal.

Skeet had no chance to argue his case for a joint because the sound of a cycle reverberated in the already noisy night air. Nathan turned and saw Lisa on her Harley. His mouth went dry. Skeet said, “I never expected her to show.”

“Wasn’t she invited?”

“Dude, no one here was invited. Word went around and whoever wanted to come, did.” Skeet looked thoughtful. “It’s just that she doesn’t party with us high school dweebs.”

“Well, she’s here.”

Skeet’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t thinking that you’re going to get her to look your way, are you?”

“No,” Nathan said hastily, although it was exactly what he was thinking. “I was just making an observation.”

Skeet rocked back on his heels. “Listen, I’m going to go get a beer. Want one? Or should I bring you a bottle of spring water?”

Nathan didn’t really like beer—he’d tasted it on the sly at certain homeschool parties—but he didn’t like the way Skeet was riding him either. “Bring me a beer,” he said as Skeet walked away.

He kept an eye on Lisa as she tied her helmet to the cycle. He waved. She saw him, gave a halfhearted wave in return, but it was all he needed to hustle over to her side. He said, “I saw you at the game with some girl.”

“Jodie Price. She’s a friend.”

“She didn’t come with you to the party?”

“Jodie didn’t want to come. She hates crowds.” A damp chill had fallen on the field, and fog hovered just above the grass in the distance. Lisa watched several of the cheerleaders clumped together around the fire. “Not all girls travel in packs,” she added.

“Why
did
you come?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a party girl.”

The two images he had of Lisa, one of a party princess and the other of a loner, didn’t mesh. He was about to tell her that when a voice shouted, “Fight!”

Kids rushed toward the bonfire. Nathan and Lisa went to see what was happening. In the middle of the semicircle formed around the fire and the beer stash, Skeet was standing between Roddy and two of his fellow players. The three of them held bottles of beer and looked roaring drunk and as big as tanks. Roddy was in Skeet’s face, which looked pale but stony in the firelight. Roddy gave Skeet a shove. “Who invited you, faggot?”

Skeet said nothing, and that only seemed to make Roddy madder.

Nathan shouldered his way through the crowd and broke into the open. “Hey, leave him alone.”

Roddy looked up, and Nathan saw that the side of his face was swollen and that his eye was turning black—hits from the game, Nathan assumed. “Who’re you? A fellow faggot?” For some reason, this made a few in the crowd laugh.

Nathan stood beside Skeet. “I’m his friend.” He was scared, but Roddy’s rattlesnake meanness made Nathan mad. “He’s not doing anything to you.”

“He’s breathing my air.”

Again, laughter.

“Then let me remove him from your illustrious presence.”

Nathan’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on Roddy, who cursed him. He leaned into Nathan’s face. “I’m going to kick your ass first.”

“How about mine, Roddy? Going to kick mine too?” The voice was Lisa’s, and the crowd parted and started buzzing as she stepped into the circle next to Nathan and Skeet.

Roddy swayed and called her a skank.

“Hey!” Nathan said. “You can’t talk like that to her.”

“Says who? You with her, faggot-boy?”

“Nobody’s with me,” Lisa said. Firelight flickered over her face, reflecting in her eyes, now dark as the night sky. “But if you touch any of us, it won’t look too good on the police report,” she said. “You know, the one I’ll file and that will go on your permanent record for the Georgia coach to read when he’s considering you for scholarship money.”

Nathan could hardly believe her bravado. Roddy was hateful when he was sober, downright venomous when he was drunk.

Roddy’s expression twisted, but he didn’t take a swing at any of them. Nathan held his breath. Rod’s
two buddies grabbed his arms. “Come on,” one said. “They ain’t worth it.”

Roddy swore some more, tossed what was left of his beer at Skeet and Nathan, and swaggered off. The crowd gave the three football players a wide path, mumbling among themselves, then turned away. Skeet wiped beer from his cheek with his sleeve. “He could have killed us.”

Nathan’s knees felt wobbly, but he didn’t let on. “He’s a jerk—” he started.

The night was split by the wail of sirens. Somebody screamed, “Cops!” and the kids scattered like roaches across the field toward their cars.

“No, firetrucks!” another voice amended, but no one was listening.

Skeet pulled Nathan’s arm. “Let’s boogie.”

Nathan was looking at Lisa, sprinting for her cycle. Instantly he knew what he was going to do. He reached into his pocket, grabbed his keys and pressed them into Skeet’s hand. “Take my car.”

“But—”

“Just park it on the street in front of your house. Put the keys under the floor mat.”

“How will you—”