The Firefly Effect (9 page)

“For about six months. I haven’t really known her all that long.”

“I see. And what about college? Did you wind up going to Flagler?”

“How’d you know about that?”

“Word gets around.” He adds a packet of sugar to his coffee and stirs it. “I just remember someone telling me that’s where you were planning to go.”

“I went,” I tell him evasively. “For a while.”

“You transferred?”

“No. I…I dropped out my first year there.”

He gives me a quizzical look. “Really? And did you ever finish your studies?”

I shake my head.

“Incredible.”

“What is?”

“It’s just…strange the way things turn out.” He smiles poignantly. “Ten years ago I never would have pictured this.”

“Pictured what?”

“Our roles reversed. The honors student as the dropout, and the class idiot going on to earn a college degree.” His perceptive eyes gauge my reaction.

“I never called you an idiot,” I mumble.

He raises an eyebrow. “Melanie.”

“Well, I didn’t mean it. Not really.”

“Then why did you say it?”

Lifting my hands, I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. Because I was just a kid?”

He laughs softly. “Fair enough. And for what it’s worth, I probably deserved every insult you gave me. So how about we call it even? We’re civilized adults here. What do you say? Truce?”

“If this is your underhanded way of trying to weasel yourself into my bed, I’ll just go ahead and warn you up front that it isn’t going to work.” I’m perfectly willing to accept a truce, but he needs to know that it doesn’t mean there will be an encore performance of last night. I don’t think. Oh God, he’s so handsome. It’s hard to look at him without remembering what we were doing a mere twelve hours ago.

“Technically, sweetheart, you’re the one who’s sleeping in
my
bed,” he reminds me in a silken voice.

Wetting my lips nervously, I look everywhere except directly at him. “For your information, I picked that room because I liked the view.”

“Did you? Personally, I was partial to the view in the living room last night.” He is watching my discomfort with overt amusement.

I fidget with a napkin just so I have something else to focus on. “Must you bring that up?”

“Does it bother you?”

“It’s just–” I clam up as the waitress brings us our food. It looks scrumptious and suddenly I’m ravenous. I reach for the syrup and pour some over my french toast and strawberries, hoping he’ll change the subject.

“It’s just what?” he asks once she’s out of earshot.

“Can we please just forget what happened?” I plead, glancing up at him. “I feel weird about the whole thing.”

“Not likely.” He grins wickedly. “But I’ll drop it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

He digs into his steak omelet and for a while, neither of us speak. I can’t help but notice that the focal point of every conversation around us is Hurricane Elliott. Directly behind me, an elderly couple is debating which evacuation route to take. People are leaving town? Maybe I haven’t been taking this thing seriously enough.

“I thought this storm was taking more of a westerly turn,” I comment. “Should we be worried?”

Did I just lump us together as
we?
Ugh, I need to think before I speak.

“Worried? No.” He gives the waitress a smile as she refills his coffee. “But these storms are unpredictable so the best rule of thumb is to prepare for the worst just in case. If it makes you feel better, I made sure before I bought the house that it was designed to withstand high winds. Actually, since it’s in a coastal area, that was the only way I could get anyone to insure it. It also has structural straps to secure the roof.”

“I couldn’t care less about the house,” I inform him frankly. “Should I be worried about
me
is what I’m asking!”

Laughing, he shakes his head. “All I meant was that the house is well reinforced. Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

“Can I get that in writing?” I mumble under my breath.

“We could always leave if it makes you feel better,” he offers, misunderstanding. “You’re more than welcome to come stay with me in Franklin.”

“I think I’d rather take my chances with Elliott.” I use my fork to poke at the syrupy remains of my french toast. “If the house is as secure as you say, then why are you still hanging around?”

“Let’s just say I like to protect my investments.” He’s eyeing me speculatively and I can’t help but wonder if there’s a double meaning behind those words.

I decide to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I never knew you had a younger sister. Well…stepsister, I mean.”

“I didn’t – not when you knew me. My parents divorced when I was fifteen, and my mom didn’t get remarried until two months after I graduated high school.”

I furrow my brow thoughtfully. “So you were in…what, tenth grade when your parents divorced?”

“It happened the summer before my sophomore year, yes.”

“Oh. Yeah, I remember you seemed different that year.”

His lips quirk up. “You noticed?”

“Everyone noticed,” I’m quick to point out.

“Mm. Well, things definitely did improve after Mom kicked my dad to the curb. I guess she finally got tired of supporting him. He wouldn’t work, just expected everyone to feel sorry for him and cater to him because he was an alcoholic. All he ever did was drink up her paychecks. He’d take money out of the bank account without telling her. We came close to losing our house because of him. I think that was the last straw.”

“Was he abusive?”

“No. He wasn’t abusive – not physically, anyway. The majority of the time he was…nothing. Mostly all he did was sit around watching TV or staring off into space, completely zoned out. He lived inside his own head. It’s like he didn’t care about anything in the real world, including us.”

How sad. Always having been a daddy’s girl myself, I can’t imagine having a father like that. “Do you have any kind of relationship with him?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen the man since she threw him out. I couldn’t tell you if he’s alive or dead.”

“What? You mean he never tried to contact you? His own son?”

“Not once. I’m telling you, if it wasn’t printed on the side of a liquor bottle, he wasn’t interested.”

“Unbelievable,” I breathe, my mind racing as I piece together fragments of memories. With this insight I’m starting to rescind the foregone conclusions I’d held about him when we were kids. The outdated clothes…the ratty sneakers…the hair that constantly needed cutting. He wasn’t merely a slob who didn’t care about his appearance. His family was poor and it wasn’t his fault.

Of course, before I start to feel too sorry for him I have to stop and remind myself that none of that had any bearing on the way he acted in the years
after
his parents got divorced.

10th grade

You wouldn’t think world history would be this boring.

Mr. Callahan is droning on and on about the Industrial Revolution in his slow, dull monotone and it’s all I can do to keep from falling asleep. My chin is propped in the palm of my hand and I’m balanced on one elbow struggling to keep my eyes open. Is it some kind of rule that teachers aren’t permitted to exhibit any kind of personality? I swear he sounds just like a turtle. That is, if turtles could talk. He even sort of looks like one.

I tune him out and let my eyes wander around the room, mentally evaluating some of the other students who look just as apathetic as me.

Elijah Hunt. Kinda cute, but a little on the weird side. Yesterday he asked me if he could borrow one of my shoes for five minutes. What’s up with that?

Amber Owens. Heard she and Jake Hoffman are dating. Wonder if that’s true?

Colton Wells. Big muscles, really buff and athletic. Totally conceited though. All he ever talks about is his weight training routine. News flash – nobody cares!

Tim Franklin. Ugh. Clearasil, anyone? His face has enough oil on it to be considered a fire hazard.

Brianna Lawson. I like that top she has on. I’ll have to ask her where she got it.

Zach Norris. He used to eat his boogers in elementary school and I don’t care if he turns out to be People magazine’s sexiest man of the year, I will never be able to look at him without remembering that. Sick!

Shane Becker.

Hm.

I’m not sure what happened exactly, but over the summer something must have drastically changed for him. He’s like a different person, the most obvious and conspicuous difference being that he now wears glasses. You’d think a guy like him would look dorky in glasses. But he doesn’t, he looks
good
actually. He’s also wearing nicer clothes now, new stuff that doesn’t look like castoffs from a flea market. His chestnut hair is trimmed and no longer an unruly mess, and surprisingly he seems to be doing a lot better in school. Could it be this whole time his eyesight was the problem?

I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Lately he’s got girls flocking around him like flies to honey. Stephanie has even confided to me that she thinks he’s hot. Well, maybe he is, but I’d never stoop so low as to admit it.

I also refuse to admit that he was right about Mark. That whole business last year was an eye-opener for me. I thought, as anyone would, that my neighbor from down the street was just being nice when he would see me walking to school and offer me a ride. That’s what neighbors do, right? And yes, I admit that maybe I was crushing on him just a bit. He was good-looking and took classes at the local community college and it was exhilarating to be seen driving around in a Mustang with a college guy. So sue me, I was naïve.

But asking me if I’d send him naked pictures of myself? Gross! I mean, it was just so unexpected. Out of the blue, he asks me that. Almost begging. I couldn’t believe it.

I think maybe that was the point where I realized that not all adults can be trusted. That’s kind of a sad discovery to make. It’s like the turning point from childhood to cold, harsh reality. I thought about telling my parents about it, but it was way too embarrassing. Now I just ignore Mark whenever I see him. He’s such a creep!

What’s weird is that Shane could see right through him when I couldn’t. And he didn’t even know anything about Mark. So does that make him smarter than me?

As if he senses me looking at him, he turns his head and catches my eye. To my surprise, he smiles. I hate to admit it, but Shane’s smile is…gorgeous.

I haven’t yet decided whether I want to return his smile when he starts scribbling something on a piece of notebook paper. Curious, I watch to see what he’s doing.

He holds up the piece of paper and my mouth drops open as I read what he’s scrawled.

Sent anyone to prison lately, Felony?

I give him the middle finger salute and turn my attention back to the thrilling history of the Industrial Revolution.

~ Chapter Ten ~

The store is packed, the checkout lines longer than I’ve ever seen them. Everyone is scrambling to stock up on groceries before the weather gets nasty. The harried employees are working at breakneck speed to restock the shelves that are just as quickly wiped clean.