On Edge (7 page)

Nine

I woke long before my alarm went off. Stress will do that, they say. From five until seven in the morning I slept in ten-minute increments, which couldn't be healthy. I tried to counter it with a banana for breakfast but I could only choke down half.

Today I'd be spending quality time with the enemy in a closet. The herd of mutant butterflies in my gut flew upwards, heading off any attempts to swallow and leaving that panicky tang taste in my mouth.

If I remembered right, the closet wasn't very big.

“How was the movie last night, Pigeon?” When I shot eye-daggers at my brother's head he held up his hands. “Sorry. I meant to say LL. My fault.”

“Uh huh.” He'd call me Pigeon like Ander always called him Wharf. On some ancient paper somewhere, a rule was written saying siblings were supposed to be pains in each other's asses, I was sure of it.

“So you didn't answer me. How was the movie?”

“It was fine.” I grabbed my book bag and tossed my half-eaten nanner in the trash as I passed him.

“Just fine? LL, wait.”

“Can't! Gotta meet Liv halfway.” Of course Liv didn't know that I had to meet her, but lying was better than admitting I'd been too preoccupied to note much about the movie, other than the action scenes were many and very loud. Loud enough to annoy me when I was trying to think.

Liv looked surprised to see me walking toward her house from mine.

“You aware you're going the wrong way? Your internal compass broken this morning, sweetie?”

“My brother.”

“Ah. Harping on you about going out last night?”

I shrugged. “Something like that. With Pops gone on a run and Warp in charge, he likes to play the father.”

I ranted the rest of the way to school and Liv was kind enough to listen, grabbing my hand and squeezing when I became misty-eyed over missing Ander. I even tried to apologize for leaving her lonely for awhile to chat with him at the movies, and like the billion other times I tried, she slapped my arm and called me silly.

We arrived at school in record time. Only to see a squad car speed away from the curb with a student or two stuffed into the back.

“I wonder what happened.”

“Who the shit knows these days?” Liv snarled. “I sure wish people would stop screwing around before they push the school board into doing something even more dumb.”

“What could be more ignorant than putting two rival schools together?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “Separating them again.”

I thought about arguing with her screwy logic, but then I remembered the red paper hearts and found it impossible not to wholeheartedly agree. To go back to the old schools now would be like a slap in the face to those lost in the violence of the merger. Like…Oh, whoops, sorry, guess we'll find more money somewhere like we shoulda done in the first place.

Nah. We were in it now.

“Hey, I gotta go beg for an extension on this test for Government. I'll see you in Bio?”

I nodded but couldn't respond vocally.

When Liv walked down the hall in her barely there skirt and off-the-shoulder shirt ensemble, everyone's head turned…except
his
.

Haze stared my way, returning Liv's hello automatically but without breaking eye contact with me.

So, of course, I turned away.

Honestly, I felt he knew enough about my feelings without me having to confirm them with a nice shiny blush across my cheeks.

I busied myself at my locker, hoping to give him enough time to pass behind me before I lifted my head again.

Something brushed across my butt, and I looked around for the culprit, glaring straight into the eyes of…Decay. Haze's right-hand freak looked over his shoulder at me with a canary grin while Haze spoke to the guy on his opposite side, oblivious to the feel his boy copped.

Decay hung his tongue suggestively out of his mouth, lapping at nothing while rubbing the front of his pants. A stubby finger lifted and he pointed at me, then tipped the finger toward his junk.

Ew.

I turned back to my locker, feeling dirty and dizzy with fear, hoping the assmunch didn't see my shiver.

***

So far, I was of the mind that Tuesdays suck. Not only did Mr. Fewd give a pop quiz, and I suspected that was for my benefit, but Liv wanted to hang fourth period. She managed to talk her Government teacher into giving her an extra day of studying by blaming her parents somehow. That meant I would have to blow off Haze. Again.

I could've told Liv I had plans, but I wasn't ready to share my flirtation with Haze. Not yet. If nothing came of it, I didn't want anyone to know I'd even thought about it. I chose to think of it as caution instead of cowardice.

Clutching my book bag, I neared the closet and tried the handle. It was locked. Briefly, I wondered if Haze was tucked in a corner somewhere, watching and laughing with his buddies, their phones capturing the YouTube experience. I quickly turned, deciding to get the hell out of there.

The door opened and a hand tugged me inside.

Before I completed my spin around to face him, I had to admit to myself that I still doubted his intentions. Haze seemed to be on the level and, without proof, I inwardly accused him of being a sneaky jerk.

Maybe that made me the sneaky jerk.

I looked into his eyes and smiled, feeling comfort and excitement until he pulled me against him and brushed the corner of my mouth with his lips.

What the—? I drew in a deep breath and stiffened. His kiss so unexpected I did the idiot thing and froze.

In my head, I played through his possible motives for wanting to kiss me, and the fact he might actually want me came in dead last on the list.

After a moment, my lack of response brought him up from the chaste kiss.

He looked down at me. “Too soon?” I blushed and wanted to scream,
No!
but my voice was held hostage by my tight throat. “Okay then.” He grinned and his hands fell to his sides.

Disappointed, and more than a little annoyed, I silently berated myself. I
wanted
Haze to kiss me and I just made the biggest ass out of myself by acting like a scared virgin. Didn't matter that I
was
one! Timid girls didn't get the hot boys, no matter what the movies said.

“After last night I got a little excited, I guess. Let's just start out with a non-threatening talk.”

“Okay,” I managed to say after chiseling myself out from the wall of self-hatred.

“Glad you could make it.” He sounded sincere.

Oh. OH! That reminded me I couldn't actually “make it.” Ugh. Guilt times ten. “Yeah…about that…”

“No way! Are you ditching the art closet hour? How come? If it's the attempted kissing thing, you can smack me in defense of your honor if you'd like. I'm cool with it.” He smiled at me crookedly, in that sexy way and I felt my plan to meet up with Liv wad up like a paper ball and sail toward the virtual trash can.

“No. No, it's not that. It's Liv. She wanted to hang out,” I said weakly.

“Psh. Liv will understand…” When I rolled my eyes he added, “…if you lie to her. Unless you want to use Liv as a reason to run from me. But hey, I can totally understand loyalty. You'll miss out on some cave-drawing fun, though. I planned to open up a few jars of paint, sniff the fumes and get down on these walls Neanderthal-style. It won't be as fun alone and of course, I might get so paint-stoned I fall and crack my skull open only for some janitor to discover me later, half-conscious covered in rotten egg-smelling blue, red, and yellow goo.”

“Who sniffs paint anymore?”

“Not anyone I wanna know.” He smiled. “But people do dumb things when they're lonely and bored.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing, aware that the hallways had quieted and my laughter would carry. Man, he was fighting dirty, insinuating his future injuries would be my fault for leaving him. But I liked it. “You know what?” I felt nervous, knowing I was about to choose a boy over my best friend. “Liv will understand.” Eventually.

My worry over Liv's reaction diminished behind Haze's wicked grin. Guys knew how to work their cuteness to get them whatever they wanted. Or so my Pops told me a year or so ago in one very awkward conversation. Now that I stood in front of Exhibit A, I totally understood what he meant. The thought made my smile widen.

“What are you grinning at?”

“You're grinning, too,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but yours looks devious.”

I laughed as quietly as I could, remembering where we were. “Not devious. I was thinking of something my Pops told me.”

“You're in a closet with me and thinking about your dad?”

“Jealous?”

“You caught me.” He held up his hands in a guilty gesture before reaching for a jar of paint to fidget with.

“I was thinking about all the warnings my father has given me about boys and their intentions when they get me alone.”

Haze thought about that for a second and then shrugged. “He's not wrong. But I'm not the type to throw myself at a girl, willing or not. Er…usually. You seem to be the exception.”

“Uh huh.” I could practically hear Surge.
The man doth protest too much.

“Say what's on your mind, LL. Ask me.”

He lifted himself up with one hand onto a piece of plywood thrown over a laundry sink in the back and sat down, leaving the upturned bucket for me.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. The conversation had the ability to turn into an insult-fest, and I wasn't looking forward to it. Diplomacy was needed and I wasn't sure I was qualified to use it. “Put yourself in my shoes. I meet you while my brother and his friends have you surrounded and ready for a pummel.”

“I can handle your brother,” he said, flipping the jar of paint between his hands. The tone of his voice didn't come off as cocky but confident, confirming my suspicions that day.

“Yeah. You've had some training?”

“My parents have always been a little protective. They realized they couldn't keep me locked up in my room, so they decided to send me out in the world with a little leg up.”

“What are you trained in?”

“I have a black belt in karate, and a green belt in jujitsu.”

“Cool.”

“It's helped. But street fighting and arena fighting are two different things.”

“Right,” I said and nodded.

“What about you? I saw you flip off that wall to get in between your brother and me, and I have to say…dayum.”

He might be more mature than most of the guys I knew, but he was still boy enough to be a flirt! “I'm a gymnast,” I told him.

“Hot! You any good?”

“I won all-around at regionals. I should get a scholarship out of it next year as long as I avoid injury.”

“When's your next practice? Can I come watch?” His question matched his leering grin.

I smiled a little. “Maybe some day. Right now there's a whole lotta weird with the two teams merging and all. There's gonna be a struggle for power soon.”

“Oh? And how do you know that?”

“Because I plan to initiate it.” I grinned when he laughed. “I have to. Most of the girls on my team can't stand me, thanks to Wenda, and I think she's going to start working on the Branfort team and get them aboard the LL hate train.”

“Sport politics. I guess you know how good you are by how many people hate you.”

“I guess.”

The topic was starting to depress me and he seemed to sense it.

“So. We're both go-getters. No wonder we're digging each other.”

What a cocky bastard! “You don't know that I'm digging you.”

“You're in a closet with me.”

“It's a big closet.”

He laughed. “And you're risking your brother's wrath.”

“I could just be curious.”

The look on his face said he clearly didn't believe me. He threw my words from earlier right back at me. “Uh huh.”

He had me, and he knew it. I was in the closet because I liked him and I suspected we'd make a good match. We both had activities that society viewed as good, and activities some considered beautiful but were viewed as bad by the majority. For me, parkour and gymnastics were close cousins but karate and graffiti showed the range of talent Haze had. For that reason alone, he was squee-worthy.

We talked about silly things for the majority of the hour. Favorite foods, colors, music, movies…all of the things that usually come out over months. We rushed through the mundane questions, wanting to know our compatibility now.

Our “courtship” didn't have the luxury of time. If we were discovered, even later today, we'd have to make a snap decision as to whether or not we wanted to go forward with a relationship or cut it off to satisfy our respective crews. A light dating process was pretty much impossible.

We both knew that, and Haze inviting me into this art closet was a loud admission on his part. He liked me enough to take a risk. I knew that meant I would have to start trusting him.

Toward the end of the hour we came back to discussing our activities, specifically freerunning.

“You should teach me.”

I didn't think I heard him right. “You wanna learn parkour?”

“Yeah. I figure, like my karate stuff, parkour will help me in the grid.”

“It can't hurt. Especially while running from the Po-po.”

He did that skeptical eyebrow thing. “Do a lot of running from authority, do you?”

As embarrassing as it was to admit, I had to nod. “Parkour is too new to the cops to be understood, I guess. They call us trespassers but I think it's because they don't know what else to say about us. We jump on buildings and run along the roof, then hop from fire-escape to windowsill and down before they can blink. They aren't sure if what we're doing is wrong, they just know we're doing something they don't approve of. So the tickets usually read trespassing.”