Miss Me Not (6 page)

I sank down on the ground and lay back against the cool grass, almost gasping in awe at the branches overhead. The sun was all but obstructed from view by the mighty branches covered in leaves the size of my hand. Shadows blended together, lurking beneath the branches that snaked out like long arms. I felt my heart swell slightly in my chest. This was my place. I had found a place where being a shadow didn't matter. I fought back sudden tears. Dean had somehow given me a gift I never even knew I yearned for.

"Pretty amazing, huh?"
Dean asked, quietly lying next to me.

All I could do was nod, my heart and mind locked in a silent battle. I was afraid if I talked, my tears would spill over. Emotions I had long forgotten stirred inside me. I should leave. I didn't want to feel. Leaving would return me to the land of neutrality I had cloaked myself in the last four years. My head urged me to flee, to forget about this almost magical spot. To forget about the boy who had shared it with me. It was only a tree. My heart though, knew better. This tree was the home I never had. It was an escape from the world that had been pressing in on me for so long. I ached inside, knowing this haven had been right in front of me for the last four years and I was just now discovering it.

To anyone else, it was just a tree.

To me it was a sanctuary.
A place where shadows no longer mattered as they all melded together.

"How did you find it?" I asked after a few moments, trying to keep my voice sounding nonchalant. After all, just because this place felt like I'd stumbled into my own secret garden didn't mean it held the same appeal for everyone else.

He gave no indication that he thought my question was odd. "I found it freshman year. It's a great place to study and get away from it all. This week has been a rough one, so I've used it as a refuge more than a few times in the last few days."

I wonder what he could possibly want to get away from. What could have driven him to need a safe haven? He had it all, family, friends, grades, looks and popularity. Past sins didn't follow him like an unwanted cloak. Dean was my polar opposite. He was the sun, while I was the darkness.

"You don't hold the
market on the need for solitude
," he gently chided me, somehow knowing my silent questions. Once again, I felt unsettled that he kept finding cracks in my armor. "Everyone has their secrets and skeletons in their closets they'd like to hide," he added as his face clouded over.

"How do you do that?" I asked, trying to ignore the spasm of pain that had flitted across his face.

"Do what?" he asked, smiling at me to break up the sudden shift our conversation had taken.

I raised my eyebrow at him, making it clear I wasn't buying his innocent act.

"I hate to break it to you, but you're not that hard to read."

"I'm sure," I said sarcastically. "The question is, why bother? Did you take some bet from your Jockheads that you could score with the dark, brooding, ghost-like girl?" I sniped out.

"Get a grip. You're pricklier than a feral cat," he said, sitting up.

"Too bad for you, I'm not in heat," I said, calming down.

He laughed outright. "You say the funniest stuff sometimes."

"You don't get out much, do you?" I asked, unzipping my backpack to remove my crinkled study guide.

"Why don't you ever smile?" he asked, once again throwing me for a loop.

"What makes you think I don't?" I said, fighting the urge to bolt.

"I've watched you for the last few years, and you always have the same look on your face."

"How do you know I'm not like that actress they're always mocking, the one whose expressions they claim never change? What's her name? Kristen Stewart. Besides, what are you like some crazy stalker dude? Is this where you bind and gag me and drag me off to the woods to murder me?" I asked, indicating the woods that boarded the school property behind us.

"There you go again. Man, do you have an imagination. Let me ask you, would you be here if you thought I was crazy like that?" he asked with sudden seriousness.

"Probably," I answered, shrugging my shoulders. "Shouldn't we be studying?" I added, holding up the paper.

"Do you have some kind of death wish?" he asked, ignoring the study guide. "Or do you just like the attention?"

"God, you're an asshole," I said, scrambling to my feet as my anger boiled over. "Here's the deal, Jockstrap. Unlike you and your cronies, I don't feel the constant need for attention. If I did, you'd know it," I said, striding away. Who did he think he was? He didn't know me, and if he did, he wouldn't be so keen to spend time with me. The rumors that surrounded me were just the tip of the iceberg.

"Hey, wait," he said, jogging up behind me and snagging my wrist in his hand.

I stopped dead in my tracks at his touch. Panic clawed its way up through me as I looked down at his hand that encircled my slender wrist. Four years. It had been four years since anyone touched me. Gasping for air, I somehow forgot how to breathe. Darkness crept in slowly, obscuring my vision as I started to hyperventilate.

"Madison?" Dean said in a voice that sounded like it was traveling through a cave. I swayed as the darkness closed in, completely obscuring Dean's panicked expression from view. I felt his arms wrap around me as my legs liquefied beneath me. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. I'd gone from being touched for the first time in forever to being wrapped in someone's arms in the blink of an eye. The world faded away and I welcomed it. I'd broken my one rule.

***

I awakened slowly as my body swayed back and forth. "What are you doing?" I gasped, suddenly realizing where I was as Dean repositioned me in his arms.

"Carrying you to the nurse's office.
In case you missed it, you passed out back there," he answered, looking at me like I had suddenly sprouted an extra head.

"Put me down," I demanded, squirming in his arms. "I don't need to go to the clinic. I just forgot to breathe. It's not the first time," I added, increasing my squirming until he was forced to set me down. Much to my dismay, he kept a hand firmly on my arm, making sure I had my footing.

"Does that happen often?" he asked, still looking stressed.

"No," I answered shortly, looking at his hand that still held me in place.

"Are you pregnant?"

"Pregnant? God no, that would require touching," I said pointedly, jerking my arm from his grasp. "I don't do touching," I said, turning away from him. My sudden movement made my already foggy head start spinning. I took a staggering step forward, trying to keep my balance.

Dean reached out and grasped my elbow to steady me.

"What part of 'I don't do touching' do you not understand?" I asked sarcastically, trying to regain a shred of my dignity.

He dropped his hand like it had been burned. "Sorry," he said, cramming the offender into his pocket. "Let me drive you home," he added.

"Don't worry about me, I'm good. I don't need you."

"Madison, please. I promise I won't touch you again. It's my fault you're not feeling good. It's the least I can do."

"It was bound to happen. You're off the hook. No harm, no foul, right?" I said, walking away. I was ready to put distance between us so I could process and categorize everything. Much to my dismay, Dean kept pace with me.

"Seriously, I'm good," I said, trying to get rid of him.

"Madison, come on," he pleaded.

"Fine," I caved, exasperated at his persistence.

I nearly groaned out loud when he smiled broadly at me. He looked like a puppy eagerly waiting for a treat.

The walk to the student parking lot was long, and although I wouldn't admit it to Dean, I was glad I'd accepted his offer. Passing out had made my head foggy, and left my legs shaky. It would have taken me forever to walk the two miles home.

Dean's jeep was parked next to an oversized muddy pickup truck with wheels twice as big as normal. I knew without even looking at the driver who the vehicle belonged to. Our school had no shortage of good old country boy, beer-guzzling, cow-tipping, loudmouthed rednecks. Needless to say, being a silent, pale-skinned, dark-haired freak made me stick out like a sore thumb.

I kept my eyes averted from the driver as he sneered down at me. "Dean? Dude, you slumming?" he asked, tossing an empty beer bottle into the bed of his truck. His drinking clarified my suspicions that half the student body would be starting their weekend early.

"
Don't be a dick
, Kirk," Dean said, climbing into his jeep.

I opened my door and climbed in too.

"I guess Dean doesn't mind sloppy seconds," I heard Kirk say snidely as I closed the door behind me.

I didn't need to look at Dean to know he'd heard the comment too. Neither of us acknowledged it as he threw the jeep in reverse and peeled out of the parking spot. I was thrown back against the seat as he gunned the engine and tore away. The speed was exhilarating. Donna was a speed limit queen, and most times went a couple miles below the limit just to be safe. I wouldn't have pegged Dean as a speed demon, but I wasn't arguing. When I was finally able to peel myself off the back of my seat, I glanced over at him. I expected to see an exhilarating smile on his face that matched the way I was feeling, but I was surprised to see that he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.

I pondered what had set him off, but realized he was most likely pissed that Kirk had seen us together. I'm sure being reminded I was a "slut" hadn't helped. I felt bad for him. He'd signed up to be a tutor, not to become a social leper.

"I'm pretty sure Kirk was halfway plastered," I reassured him. "Turn right, here," I added, directing him to my house. "He's an ass. By tomorrow he'll forget he even saw us together."

"You think I'm pissed because Kirk saw us together?" he asked incredulously, slamming on the brakes when I pointed out my house.

I jerked forward only to be thrown back by the tightening of the seatbelt as it held me in place.

"Mother F, are you trying to give me whiplash?" I demanded, glaring at him.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he asked, concern replacing his anger.

"I'll live," I said, rubbing my shoulder where the seatbelt had dug in.

He lifted his right hand toward my shoulder only to stop halfway. "I'm sorry, that was a bonehead move. I shouldn't have been driving like an idiot."

"I didn't mind the speed. Matter fact, it was kind of nice," I admitted. "I just need a little warning before you decide you want to see what I look like as a hood ornament."

"I see. So, you're a speed junkie," he joked.

"I guess so. That's my first taste of it."

"What? Your parents never speed?"

I shook my head, not wanting to delve into my funked up home life.

"You must love roller coasters," he said as I unbuckled my seatbelt.

"I wouldn't know," I said, opening my door.

"Are you serious? You've never gone on the Hulk?" he asked, looking at me like I'd just stepped off an alien mother ship.

"Never been to a theme park," I said, stepping out of the vehicle.

He was still sputtering in shock when I closed the door behind me.

"Hey, I wanted to get your cell number," he asked, following me to my front door.

"Why?"

"You know, they have these new inventions called phones. I thought maybe I could call you on one, they're supposed to be a real hoot."

"Why?" I repeated like a two-year-old who was confused about why the sky was blue.

"Come on, to talk," he said, leaning against the wall as I unlocked the door.

The door swung open. "I don't have one," I admitted.

"You don't?" he asked like he didn't quite understand the concept. I couldn't blame him. I was pretty sure I was the only teenager who didn't have a cell phone. Until this moment, I never wanted one. "Okay then. Can I get your home number?" he asked, finally coming to terms with my lack of twenty-first century technology.

"Uh, I guess," I said, rattling off the number for him. I waited while he plugged it into his cell and then stepped into the house. "Well, thanks for the ride," I said, shutting the door.

He stopped it with his foot before it could fully close. "Just so you know, I wasn't pissed Kirk saw us. I was pissed by his comment," he said, turning on his heel and heading down the sidewalk.

"He was only speaking the truth," I said quietly, watching his retreating back.

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. My heart was reacting to his words in a strange way. Why would he care what Kirk said? Was it possible he was interested in me? "Not likely," I said to the empty living room. He obviously has some kind of hero complex and would probably snap out of it soon enough. None of it mattered anyway. I wasn't about to get into any relationship, so it was time to nip the whole situation in the bud.

I left the entryway feeling deprived. Spending time with Dean had a way of accentuating the emptiness of my house. I pulled a frozen meal out of the freezer and disposed of the carton. I hated these things, but had accepted them as my penance for driving my dad away. The humming of the microwave filled the silent house as I grabbed a soda out of the fridge. When the meal was finished cooking, I settled myself on a barstool at the kitchen counter. I sat eating for a few minutes, but the silence of the house seemed more oppressive than normal and began to wear on me. I stood up and dumped my unfinished meal in the trash. I wasn't that hungry anyway. Maybe some music would clear my head. Dean's attention today had opened a door I had bolted closed years ago. A
door that belonged closed. Hell, it was a door I didn't even need. I embraced my solitude. I loved being alone. I loved silence. I was a liar.