Kyland (Sign of Love #7) (16 page)

I hesitated. I'd gone to school with Jamie for the last four years, but I didn't really know him too well. In fact, I avoided him whenever and wherever I could—I could only figure he didn't look too fondly on any member of my family, including me. He'd been there that day my mama had dragged us up his long driveway—the day his father had spit on us. I'd seen him watching us out the window as we'd turned away.

He watched me now as I hesitated and then he reached in his pocket, bringing something red and shiny out. He walked it over to me, holding it out so that I could take it from his outstretched hand. It was a Swiss Army knife.

"If I try anything that makes you uncomfortable, you stab me in the eye with that," he said, a glimmer of a smile on his lips.

I released a breath and smiled a small smile back at him, my racing heart slowing enough that I could get a full breath through my body again. I took the knife from him. I didn't say anything, but I followed him to his car and got in the passenger side. He got in and threw the jeans in the back seat. I glanced back at them, confused, and then sat huddled against the passenger door as Jamie pulled out onto the highway. I looked out the back window—Red Shirt still hadn't sat up in his car.

"What if he's dead?" I asked.

Jamie glanced in his rearview mirror. "He's not dead. He's just going to wake up with a big headache and a massive hangover . . . and he'll have to walk himself back to his hotel . . . pant-less." He looked over at me, and the side of his lip quirked up slightly. I stared at him with my one good eye, my own lip quirking up, too, as I pictured him walking along the highway naked from the waist down. But then my expression sobered.

"He could find out my name," I said.

Jamie looked over at me and then back at the highway as he turned off onto the road leading up into the hills.

"He won't bother you." He was quiet for a second. "I'll make sure of it, okay?"

I glanced at him. "Okay." I don't know why I trusted that he would, but I did. Jamie hung with the popular kids, the small group at our high school who lived in Evansly and had parents who were executives at the mines—the rich kids. I didn't know if he'd be considered "rich" by
all
standards, but by mine, he most definitely was. Our lives were legions apart.

I directed him up the hill to my trailer and when he pulled up in front of it, he sat staring at it for several moments. I was too achy and numb to care. In that moment, my little trailer looked good to me and I wanted to get inside and lie down on the small couch I slept on. I pulled the door handle and the door clicked open.

"Hey, Tenleigh," Jamie said and I paused, but didn't turn toward him. "This is kinda weird timing, but would you, uh, want to go to the prom next week? I mean, with me?"

I looked back over my shoulder. Jamie was good-looking—not in the same way Kyland was—but he had a nice face, a kind face, actually. "Thanks, Jamie, but uh, no. I don't dance, and . . ."
I can't afford a dress or shoes and I'm kinda desperately in love with someone.

"Come on, you sorta owe me." My eyes snapped to his and I saw he was kidding.

I let out a breath and offered him a smile. "Thank you, Jamie, really, for what you did. But no, I'm, um, kind of seeing someone and—" Tears started leaking out of my eyes at my own words. Was I seeing someone? God, it was all so confusing. And somehow, my heart felt as bruised as my eye.

"Hey," he said gently, "I understand. I just thought . . . you know, you and I . . ." He thinned his lips, looking as if he was considering his words. "I've never really made an effort to get to know you, and I'm sorry for that. I realize there's not much time now, but, I thought maybe a dance . . ." His eyes moved over my face. "But you're involved with someone and so I understand that he probably wants to take you to the prom."

I looked down at my lap and shook my head, but I didn't speak. Would this boy even understand what it was like to have so little that some days you were just thankful you had enough food to eat? Dances, dates . . . those things were so far outside my realm of experiences. I had no idea what it was like to do any of that. I had no idea what it was like to live a life where you had the luxury of caring about that kind of stuff.

"Thanks again," I said.

"Tenleigh?" I turned back around. "I . . . I don't know, um . . ."

"Spit it out, Jamie."

"I'm gay."

Oh. I turned all the way toward him. "So why'd you ask me to the dance then?"

"I just wanted to spend time with you."

I tilted my head. "What if I'd said yes and had hope that you liked me?" I asked.

"I . . . I guess I didn't really think that part through. Sorry."

I studied him for a second and then sighed. "No harm done."

"I can't tell my parents. I mean, I can. I'm going to. Soon. I think. Maybe." He looked out the driver's side window.

I took a deep breath and sat back. "I'm sure it'll be okay."

He looked back at me and shook his head. "No, it won't be. It won't be okay. But I guess I have to do it anyway. I thought maybe before I go off to college. That way they'll have some time to digest it while I'm away, you know?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "Well, good luck."

"My dad, he grew up like you," he said, glancing over at my trailer. "In his office, he has a picture of the shack where he lived in West Virginia when he was a boy."

I pressed my lips together and scratched at my thigh. "Well, that makes it worse."

"What?" he asked, his eyes meeting my one good eye again.

"He knows how painful it is to live like this—and for us, he made it worse."
For him, it was a sick, thrilling way to remind himself of how far he'd risen—and how far others were now beneath him.

Jamie flinched slightly, his eyes flitting away and then back. "I know." He paused for a second. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't like where I live either, despite everything I have." He frowned as he looked out the window behind me. "That day," his eyes met mine, "that day my dad . . . told you to leave our house, I was watching. I saw. And I wanted to go with you. I saw the way all three of you gripped hands and walked away, the way you leaned on your sister, and . . . as stupid and probably insensitive as it sounds to you to hear me say this, I wanted to go with you. I wanted what you had. A
family
."

I stared at him, shocked. "I wanted what you had. A family. And," I laughed softly, "some food in the fridge."

He laughed a humorless laugh that ended in a sort of grimace.

"Things are tough all over, Ponyboy," I said softly, shaking my head.

"What?"

"Nothing. Thanks again, Jamie. Good night."

He nodded, looking worried. "Good night, Tenleigh. Make sure you ice that eye."

"I will." I opened his car door and got out.

I watched him as he turned around and drove back down the road toward town. I stood there for a minute, breathing in the fresh night air, thinking about what I was going to tell my mama. I wouldn't tell her the truth. It wouldn't be helpful—there was nothing she could do about it, and it would only make her worse. I'd tell her I ran into the swinging door at work.

But as I stood there, emotion overwhelmed me. I didn't want to lie. I wanted someone to hold me as I cried. I wanted someone to tell me everything was going to be okay. Tears streaked down my face as I looked up at the sky.

"Ten?" My head whipped around at his voice. Kyland.

I swiped at my tears and turned to face him. As he came close enough that I could make out his features, he hesitated, his face contorting first in confusion and then in anger. "What the fuck?" he hissed out, moving to me quickly and tilting my face up toward the moon, toward the light.

"Who did this?" he demanded.

"Kyland," I choked out, all the fight draining out of me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his solid, safe body. I melted into him, holding the front of his shirt in my fists as I cried. I cried not just for my battered face, but because this could happen again. I cried because I was scared and hopeless and because even though Kyland was holding me, and despite all we'd shared, I sensed a withdrawal of his emotions. I sensed him stiffening as my tears fell and I clung to him.

"Who did this to you?" he repeated, only his voice was calmer this time.

I sniffled and wiped at my cheeks as I pulled back. "Just some guy," I whispered.

"A guy at Al's?"

I nodded. "I wouldn't get in his car and he didn't like that."

He didn't say anything, his jaw tense, his gaze focused somewhere beyond me.

"Did you get his name?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter, Ky. Jamie Kearney knocked him out and then drove me home. He said he'd make sure that guy didn't bother me again . . ." I trailed off. I had no idea what Jamie planned to do, if anything.

Kyland didn't speak for several beats. Finally, he nodded. "That's good." He looked down at me and smoothed a piece of hair behind my ear. "I'm so sorry
I
can't do anything. I'm sorry I'm so useless," he said, his voice gruff, tortured.

I hesitated at the tone, my one good eye widening. "You're not useless, Kyland. Don't ever say that."

He gazed down at me, a look that was raw and pained on his face. "Go inside and put some ice on your eye," he said. "Do you have any Tylenol or anything?"

I nodded. "I thought maybe I could come to your house?" I said hopefully, wanting nothing more than for him to hold me.

"That's not a good idea," he said, his words short. "We can't do that anymore."

"Why?" I asked, my voice cracking as hurt speared through me.

"Because I sold my bed. I'm sleeping on the floor."

Oh.

"That's okay. I'll sleep on the floor with you," I said.

I need you, Ky.

He shook his head, his jaw hard again. "No. You won't sleep on the damn floor, Tenleigh." At the look of hurt on my face, his expression gentled and he let out a long, controlled breath. "No, you won't sleep on the floor. Go inside your trailer and get in bed. I'll check on you in the morning, okay?"

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to beg him to stay with me, take me with him, something. I pictured my mother in that auditorium screaming at Edward and I looked down at my feet, a sudden understanding of some of the deep pain she must carry inside her damaged brain. "I saw you earlier with Shelly," I said. "I waited for you to walk me home, but you were with her." I couldn't hide the accusation in my voice.
Was I expecting too much?

He regarded me silently for a few beats. "Sorry, Ten, she just wanted to show me the car her brother fixed up for her. It was nothing."

My eyes moved over his features for a minute. I didn't feel better. "Okay," I said. "I love you."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I love you, too. Go inside. I want to hear the door lock behind you."

I turned and walked on wooden legs to the door of my trailer, unlocking it, and opening the door. I glanced behind me before I stepped inside. Kyland was standing just a little distance away, still and watching me. He nodded and I hesitated, feeling something like
fear
at the resolute expression on his face. I didn't know what it meant exactly, but I sensed it wasn't good.

I closed the door behind me and locked it, sinking down on the couch. I put my face in my hands and sobbed.

Tenleigh

Kyland did come to check on me the next morning, but his demeanor was distant, distracted, almost cold, and it did nothing to comfort me. I was desperately hurt. The pain in my body was the least of my aches.

Marlo had come home a couple hours after me and she must have noticed my bruised face because she'd woken me from sleep and demanded I tell her what happened. I cried in her arms just like she'd cried in mine after being dumped at the bottom of the hill by the man who'd taken her virginity and discarded her.

Physically, the boy who had taken my virginity hadn't hurt me, and I wasn't crying for the pain in my face anyway. I was crying for the pain in my heart.

The minutes ticked by that weekend. I stayed holed up in my trailer, jumping at every sound, hoping against hope it was Kyland. But after that first morning, he didn't come back, and I didn't go to him. He had made his choice clear, and although we'd gotten closer physically, for him it hadn't changed his resolve. In his mind, he'd already left. Somehow I understood that. And it broke my heart.

The following week and through the next weekend, I didn't see him at all. I went to his house a couple times, but he wasn't home—or he wasn't answering his door.

They'd be announcing the winner of the scholarship on Monday. I tried to feel something about that, but I couldn't. I knew what was going to happen, it was a foregone conclusion—Kyland would win it. I had purposely bombed my finals. I knew it was between him and me. And I knew he needed it more than I did. I understood why now. And I loved him. And other than my virginity, it was all I had to give. And I understood now that whether he deserved it or not, I would lay everything I had at his feet. I felt desperate and crazy, half out of my head with the fear of losing him forever. Grief pounded in my chest.

On Monday morning, as I walked down the road toward school, I was surprised to see Kyland waiting for me in front of his house. Despite all the hurt of the past week, the smile in my heart at seeing him made its way instantly to my face. "Hi," I said.

He smiled at me, too. "Hi. Your eye looks a lot better." But his eyes lingered on my bruise, still slightly yellow, and something determined came into his expression.

I nodded. "It doesn't even hurt anymore." He looked at me as if he wondered if I was lying, but he didn't say it.

"I came to your house a few times this week," I said. "You weren't home." I glanced nervously at him, hoping he would say something to make me feel better—anything.

He nodded. "I needed to make some money, Ten. With all the studying I've been doing, I've neglected some bills. And I have to eat."

My heart dropped. "Kyland, we had a little extra. I could have spared some food."

He was silent for so long, I didn't think he'd say anything. Finally, he looked at me, a raw sadness in his eyes and said, "There's no need. I'm fine now."

So much unsaid between us now. Another crack formed in my heart. I wasn't sure how many cracks it could take. I didn't want to know.

We walked in silence for a while, the morning filled with the sound of birdsong, the warm spring air caressing my face and my bare arms. The rhododendrons were in bloom—we passed by one that was so full of red blooms it looked like a blazing inferno of flowers. Everything in nature felt new. I inhaled deeply and smelled the mixture of fresh soil and new leaves. Maybe
we
could be new, too. Very suddenly, the world seemed ripe with possibility as the boy I loved walked solemnly next to me. Maybe we both just needed to get over ourselves, have a little hope. Plus, this was going to be a good day for him—he just didn't know it yet. I squinted up at him. "So, big day today."

He frowned down at me. "Yeah." The smile disappeared from my face. He stopped in the road and turned to me. "Tenleigh, whatever happens today, I . . ." He ran his hand through his hair in that sexy, unsure way that he did. "It's the way it's meant to be, okay?"

I furrowed my brow, not understanding exactly what that meant. "Okay," I agreed anyway. I already knew what was going to happen today. I had made peace with it.

We walked the rest of the way mostly in silence, but a pleasant enough one. I couldn't read his mood, but I figured that was to be expected. I left him alone with his thoughts. He was probably nervous, anxious, and afraid. The last four years of his life, all the suffering, all the pain, all the work, all the sacrifice, all the
hunger
, it was going to come down to one moment at the school assembly we were walking into in only a few hours. I wanted to reassure him, but I didn't. He couldn't know what I'd done.

So many things hung between us in the air that morning, so many things neither of us spoke of. So many secrets, so many half-truths, so much pain.

When we got to the door of the school, he leaned forward and took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there as if he was gathering himself. And then he backed up and looked at me, smiling a small smile, his eyes moving over my face as if he was memorizing me,
as if he was saying goodbye.

I opened my mouth to speak, to beg him to do something, to ask him to explain what was happening. But I had no idea what. He turned and walked into the school. He didn't look back.

**********

Later, when I recalled that assembly, it seemed like a dream, like I hadn't really been there in the flesh when they called my name. I had been so ready to hear the name Kyland Barrett called when the winner of the scholarship was awarded, that my brain didn't hear my own name instead. And so I sat there, smiling and clapping with the rest of the student body. The girl next to me laughed and elbowed me, smiling kindly as she said, "Get up there."

I had blinked and looked around, shock gripping me. No! No, this wasn't right. I even whispered it, "No," as I was pulled up and pushed along the aisle, faces smiling at me and congratulations being called out as I moved along the row of students, drawing their legs to the side to make room. I looked around wildly for Kyland and finally spotted him, sitting with his last period class, the look on his face strangely blank. "No," I whispered again.

"Tenleigh Falyn," Edward Kearney announced again, beaming at me from the stage. I didn't remember walking up there, but suddenly I was in front of him and his large, capped smile was right in front of me. He laughed, a deep chuckle, the same one I recalled coming from the small bedroom of our trailer as the bed squeaked and my mama moaned.

I looked back at Kyland's seat, but he wasn't there. He had gone.

"Well, congratulations," he said. "I can see this is quite a shock." I looked over to our principal, Mrs. Branson, and she grinned widely at me. I didn't smile back.

The rest of that hour went by in a haze. I wanted to jump up and run out of there. I wanted to chase after Kyland. I wanted to comfort him, talk to him, be with him. What was he feeling right now?
Oh, Kyland.
I wanted to scream.

How could it be that I was getting the one thing I had dreamed of more than any other over my high school career, and it was like a nightmare? Funny how our dreams can shift in what seems like an instant.

When it was over, when there had been applause and congratulations, when I'd been handed the paperwork telling me that my tuition at San Diego State University had been paid in full, including my dorm room, and an account opened in my name that would pay for my meals, when all my dreams had supposedly come true, I went tearing out of there straight to Mrs. Branson's office.

"Tenleigh," she said, surprised laughter bubbling from her when I barged into her office and shut the door behind me, probably looking crazed.

"I can't take the scholarship," I blurted out. "There's been a mistake."

Mrs. Branson laughed again, but her brows furrowed. "Tenleigh, my dear, there hasn't been a mistake. Mr. Kearney had all that paperwork drawn up already. It's all set, all in your name. Mistakes aren't made when it comes to something important like that. You won it, honey. Fair and square."

I shook my head, collapsing in the chair across from her desk. "I bombed my finals," I said. "I did terribly."

I did it for Kyland. I did it so he'd win.

This is all wrong. This is all wrong.

She pursed her lips, regarding me quizzically. "I did see that you choked on those tests, Tenleigh. I was surprised. You've always been such a good test taker." She waved her hand in the air. "But, evidently, the scholarship is based on more than final test scores—you have to understand that your whole four years here is taken into consideration . . . how many AP classes you took, what extracurricular activities you were involved in, things of that nature."

The truth was, I hadn't been involved in many extracurricular activities. We couldn't afford them, and I'd had to work. This couldn't be right. And yet . . . it was.

I wondered briefly if this had anything to do with my mother. I sat up straight in the chair. Had Mr. Kearney given me this scholarship to get our family out of town? But how would that work? It's not like I could take anyone with me. What? Would my mama and Marlo sleep in my dorm room bunk bed with me?
Of course not.
I was desperate and so confused.

"I want to transfer it into someone else's name," I said, looking at her pointedly.

She frowned. "That's not possible. I'm sorry, but, that's absolutely not possible. It's all been arranged." She stood up and came around her desk and took my hands in hers, looking at me kindly. "Tenleigh, you won this. It's yours. I know," she bit her lip, "well, I know sometimes it's hard to accept things when you're not used to having a lot, but please, dear Tenleigh, let yourself feel happiness and pride in this. You did it. You did all the work involved to win this. You deserve it. It's yours."

My shoulders sagged, but I nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Branson." I got up and walked out of her office. Yes, I earned it, but I no longer wanted it. It had to go to Kyland. He needed this more than I did.

I left school and fast-walked all the way back to Dennville. This wasn't right. I wouldn't leave him. We'd make other plans. I didn't want to leave Kentucky. I didn't want to go to college. I wanted Kyland's love and I wouldn't let it go, not for a college education, not for anything. I wouldn't. It was foolish, but I didn't care. The only thing I wanted in this world was him. Near the base of our hill, I stopped and sat down on a rock on the side of the dirt road, taking a piece of paper out of my backpack, and scrawling out a quick list. Then I got up and ran the rest of the way.

I was huffing and sweaty when I got to Kyland's door and pounded on it. He had left the assembly, so surely he'd come back here? I heard footsteps and waited. After a minute, he opened his door slowly, staring out at me. I stared back at him, my breath coming out in ragged exhales.

"Can I come in?" I asked.

He smiled stiffly and opened it wider, inviting me inside. He still hadn't spoken.

When he closed the door behind me and I turned to him, I couldn't help it, I burst into tears. He moved toward me instantly and wrapped me in his arms. "Shh, Tenleigh, why are you crying? I'm so proud of you. You earned this. You earned it." He pulled back and smoothed my hair away from my face. "You're going to go to college." He smiled and it looked sincere and tender—
proud
. It made me cry harder. I shook my head.

"I don't want to go to college," I said. "I want
you
to go to college."

He pulled back as if I'd slapped him. "Well, that's not the way it happened. It just didn't. You're going to go—and you're going to get an education. You're going to get out of here, Tenleigh. You're going to have such a beautiful life—a life filled with books and nice clothes, and a house that's heated in the winter, a
car
, and plenty of food in your refrigerator. You're going to see the ocean." His voice was filled with passion . . . and heartbreak. My own heart felt like it was bleeding in my chest and my eyes filled with tears.

"Kyland," I went toward him and put my hand on his cheek, "I don't care about any of that. I want . . . I want
you
. I know the last few weeks have been . . . tense, but we can get back to the way it was. I know we can. And I already have books. If I'm cold, we'll warm each other. If I'm hungry, we'll find a way just like we always have." Hope gripped me.
Love
, that's what I wanted. And I was willing to fight for it. I was willing to be a fool for it. Suddenly, I realized, nothing on this whole earth was more important than love. I moved closer to him. "We'll both get jobs somewhere—who cares where—and we'll rent a little house, we'll plant a garden." My voice rose as I pictured it, the words spilling out faster and faster. I realized I sounded desperate, but I didn't care. I grabbed my backpack and took the list out that I'd written on the side of the road. "I made a list," I said hopefully. "All the things we'll need to save up for before we can move into town. Sometimes writing things down, you know, makes it easier to picture, makes it seem more possible." I glanced down at the piece of paper, shaking in my trembling grasp. "I figure it'll only take us . . ." My words faded away when I noticed Kyland was looking at me with deep pity in his eyes. I stopped talking and his look of pity turned to anger. I dropped my arms, the piece of paper floating to the floor forlornly.