Unforgiven (11 page)

“That's probably true,” Cam said. “I know I can come on strong sometimes. But when I bug you about starting a band, it's only because I believe in you and your music. I like playing with you. But I'll back off. At least I'll try to. If you want me to.” He met her eyes. “Do you want me to?”

For a moment Cam thought he saw a ray of light come into Lilith's eyes. But maybe it was only wishful thinking.

“I thought you'd never ask,” she said coldly. “Come on, Bruce. It's time to check your oxygen.”

The boy had stopped coughing by then. He was petting a little white dog who'd trotted out from the house. “Are you Lilith's boyfriend?”

Cam grinned. “I like this kid.”

“Shut up,” Lilith said.

“Well, is he?” Bruce asked Lilith. “Because if he's your boyfriend, he's going to have to win me over, too. Like with arcade games and ice cream and, like, teaching me to throw a baseball.”

“Why stop there?” Cam asked. “I'll teach you to throw a football, a punch, a poker match, and even”—he glanced at Lilith—“the coolest girl off her game.”

“Poker,” Bruce whispered.

“How about teaching yourself the fine art of leaving?” Lilith said to Cam.

Cam heard a woman hollering Lilith's name from inside the house. She got to her feet and guided Bruce toward the door.

“Nice to meet you, Bruce.”

“You too, Cam,” the little boy said. “I've never heard that name before. I'll remember it.”

“Don't bother,” Lilith said, glaring at Cam before ushering the boy back inside. “You'll never see him again.”

Eleven Days

L
ilith had decided long ago that Trumbull's lunchroom was nothing short of a torture chamber, but the next morning Cam slipped a note in her locker asking her to meet him in the band room during lunch—so there was no way she was going there
.
And while Rattlesnake Creek was always calling her name, today she was actually hungry.

So the cafeteria it was. Just before noon, she entered the noisy labyrinth of sticky lunch tables. Conversations quieted and benches creaked the moment she stepped inside.

For a second, she saw herself through their eyes: A hostile scowl pinching her lips. The feral look in her blue eyes. Cheap black jeans so busted they were more hole than denim. The tangled bright red hair no brush could tame. Even Lilith wouldn't want to eat lunch with Lilith.

“Did you find a dollar on the street? Or did you come to beg for scraps?” Chloe King said, appearing in Lilith's path. Chloe held her tray casually with one hand. Her fingernails were lilac. Her mane of braids swished as she walked.

“Leave me alone.” Lilith pushed past, knocking the tray out of Chloe's hands, spilling her burger and fries to the floor and a carton of milk onto Chloe's tight white suede minidress.

“You'd better be glad this is white, or your broke-ass mom would be at the bank taking out a loan to buy me a new one.”

The girls from her band, the Slights, came to Chloe's side, each one in a different-colored pastel minidress. Suddenly, as if a spotlight had found them, Lilith could visualize their band onstage. They probably couldn't play their instruments, but Chloe's band would win the battle because everyone would think they looked hot. It wasn't like Lilith even had a band anyway, but the thought of Chloe winning made her furious.

“Are you listening?” Chloe said. “Hello?” She nudged her burger with the toe of her boot. “Maybe we should thank Lilith for reminding us not to eat the crap they serve here.”

Her friends laughed predictably.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lilith saw Cam enter the cafeteria, guitar case in hand. “I wouldn't be caught dead at prom. I'm not entering the Battle of the Bands, so even someone who sings like you has a chance.”

“Your mom came by my house the other night looking for work,” Chloe said. “Daddy felt sorry for her. I offered to let her clean my toilet—”

“That's a lie,” Lilith snarled.

“Someone's gotta pay the medical bills for your sick runt brother.”

“Shut up,” Lilith said.

“Of course, Daddy didn't give your mom a dime.” Chloe buffed her nails against her dress. “He knows a bad investment when he sees one, and anyone can tell that kid's a goner.”

Lilith lunged forward, grabbed Chloe's braids, and yanked them hard.

Chloe's head snapped back and her eyes watered as she fell to her knees. “Stop,” she said. “Please stop.”

Lilith tightened her grip. People could say whatever they wanted about
her,
but no one put down her brother.

“Let go, you animal!” The blond one—Kara—wailed, bouncing on her toes like she'd been sprung.

“Should I be filming this for, like, evidence?” Chloe's friend June asked, pulling out her phone.

“Lilith—” Cam rested his hand on the nape of her neck. At his touch, something rushed through her, immobilizing her.

Then her brain engaged. This was none of Cam's business. She'd known from the moment she saw him that he was the kind of guy who hurt people. She took her fury out on Chloe's head, tugging her braids harder. “Go away, Cam.”

He didn't.
You're better than this,
his hand seemed to be telling her.

Cam didn't know the pain and stress and humiliation Lilith had to deal with on a daily basis. He didn't know her at all.

“What?” she demanded, turning to look at him. “What do you want?”

He nodded toward Chloe. “Kick her ass.”

June dropped her cell phone and leaped at Lilith, but Cam slipped between them and held her back. June bit his arm like a piranha.

“Let her go!” Kara screamed at Cam. “Principal Tarkenton? Somebody? Help!”

Lilith didn't know if Tarkenton was in the cafeteria. It was hard to see much beyond the tight circle of twenty or so students that had gathered around them.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” the crowd chanted.

And then—suddenly—it all just felt so stupid.

Fighting Chloe wasn't going to change anything. It wouldn't make Lilith's life better. If anything, it would make it worse. She could be expelled, and they could find an even worse place to send her to school. Lilith loosened her fingers and let go of Chloe, who slumped to the ground, rubbing her scalp.

Kara, June, and Teresa rushed to help Chloe up.

“Honey, are you hurt?” Kara asked.

“How's your strumming hand?” Teresa asked, lifting and flexing Chloe's guitar-playing hand.

Chloe reared up, baring her teeth at Lilith and Cam. “Why don't you two run away and start your worthless lives together? I hear a meth lab calling your name.” She touched her temple and winced. “You've got top billing on my shit list, Lilith. You'd better watch yourself.”

Chloe and her band stalked away. The crowd dispersed slowly, disappointed that there hadn't been more of a fight.

Lilith stood next to Cam, not feeling the need to say anything. She should have just let Chloe's insults slide off her like she did every other day. Her mother would be furious when she heard about this.

Cam pulled Lilith against the nearest cafeteria table to let a few students walk past. But when the students were gone, he didn't let her go. She felt his hand on the small of her back and, for some reason, she didn't flick it off.

“Don't let the bitches get you down,” he said.

Lilith rolled her eyes. “Transcend girls who think they're better than me by pretending I'm better than them? Thanks for the advice.”

“That's not what I meant,” Cam said.

“But you just called them bitches.”

“Chloe is playing a role,” Cam said, “like an actress.”

“What are you doing, Cam?” she said, feeling tired. “Why egg me on to fight Chloe? Why try to cheer me up now? Why pretend to be interested in my music? You don't know me, so why do you care?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might
want
to know you?” Cam said.

Lilith crossed her arms and looked down, uncomfortable. “There's nothing to know.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “For example…what do you think about before you fall asleep at night? How dark do you like your toast? Where would you go if you could travel anywhere in the world?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping almost to a whisper as he reached out to touch her face below her left cheekbone. “How'd you get that scar?” He smiled a little. “See? Plenty of fascinating secrets in there.”

Lilith opened her mouth. Closed it. Was he serious?

She studied his face. His features were relaxed, like he wasn't trying to persuade her to do something for once, like he was content just to stand next to her. He was serious, she decided. And she had no idea how to respond.

She felt something within her stir. A memory, a flash of recognition, she wasn't sure. But something about Cam seemed suddenly, strangely familiar. She looked down and noticed her hands were trembling.

“You can trust me,” Cam told her.

“No,” she said softly. “I don't do trust.”

Cam leaned closer, tilting his head until the tips of their noses almost touched. “I'll never hurt you, Lilith.”

What was happening? Lilith closed her eyes. She felt like she might faint.

When she opened them, Cam was even closer. His lips came close to hers—

And then Jean Rah's voice broke the spell between them. “Hey, dudes.”

Lilith stepped back, stumbling over her own feet. Her knees were weak, and her heart was racing. She looked at Cam, who wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and exhaled. Jean Rah was oblivious to anything that might have been about to happen.

He held up his phone. “Band room's open till one. Just saying.”

A text chimed on Jean's phone, and his eyebrows shot up. “You pulled out Chloe King's weave and I missed it?”

Lilith laughed, and then something crazy happened: Jean joined in, and Cam did, too, and suddenly the three of them were laughing so hard they were crying, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like they were friends.

Were they friends? It felt good to laugh, that was all Lilith knew. It felt light, like springtime, the first day you go outside without a coat. She looked at Jean and couldn't remember why she'd ever hated him.

And then it was over. They stopped laughing. Everything went back to dreary normality.

“Lilith,” Cam said, “can I talk to you alone?”

There was something about the way he asked that made her want to say yes. But
yes
was a dangerous word all of a sudden. Lilith didn't want to be alone with Cam. Not now. Whatever he'd been trying to do a moment ago had been too much.

“Hey, Jean?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Let's go jam.”

Jean shrugged and followed Lilith out of the cafeteria. “Later, Cam.”

In the band room, a scrawny, dark-haired freshman in a tie-dyed T-shirt was struggling to set a huge copper timpani drum onto its base. The kid had long hair that nearly covered his eyes, and almond-colored skin. Jean watched the spectacle with interest, scratching his chin. “Yo, Luis. Need a hand?”

“I'm cool,” the boy wheezed.

Jean turned to Lilith like she was a calculus problem he didn't know where to begin solving. “Did you really want to jam, or were you just trying to make Cam jealous?”

“Why would us playing together make Cam jealous?” Lilith started to say, but she stopped. “I really want to jam.”

“Cool,” Jean said. “You know, I was at that stupid open mic. Your song was good.”