Текст книги "Out of Play"

Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn

Соавторы: Jolene Perry
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

Penny

I sit in first period, wishing I could go home.

What’s wrong with me? A guy I like kissed me. While sober. After helping with one of the worst nights of my life, and I said I can’t?

My kisses so far include one with Mitch, which he didn’t want, and a kiss that completely melted me from the inside out.

And that was the one I chose to reject?

I have some serious damage.

It was too much. Too soon. And Gramps—logically I know he’s not going to get better, but his good days still make me hope. And then nights like last night crush any ideas I have of him going back to how he was before the dementia started.

But when I think about last night, Bishop sort of clouds over everything else. It’s just that the kiss was intense. I didn’t know how much he’d want. How far he’d want to go, and I panicked.

And without Bishop, where would I have been with Gramps? He wasn’t listening to me at all, and Mitch never answered his text proving my theory that I’ve lost him in a way I didn’t expect.

I pull in a deep breath, trying to clear my thoughts. I’ll tell Bishop about why I backed away from his kiss after school, or at least hint that I’m all for doing it again. And try not to think about how I might have lost my best friend because he went from always being there to letting twelve hours go by without responding to my need for help.

The bell rings, and I jump. Crap. Good thing I don’t need this class to graduate, because I have no idea what we talked about today.

“Penny?” Mitch’s familiar voice crawls up my spine.

I don’t stop moving. I was gearing up to talk to Bishop, not Mitch.

“Penny.” He grabs my arm, spinning me around with this big, worried, sad face he does so well. “Is everything okay? I’m sorry, I—”

I pull my arm from him and start up the hall. “Check your texts, Mitch.” If he gives me that sad face again, I’ll give him a black eye. I hate it when he treats me like I’m fragile. It makes me feel breakable, which I despise. I’m not that girl. I’m the tough girl. The world needs both kinds, right? Only right now I feel like I could shatter.

“Penny.” He touches my arm again from behind, but I jerk it away because facing Mitch right now might end in another wave of tears.

Three more steps to the stairs.

“Dammit! Penny!”

I start jogging down. Mitch is right on my tail. I spin before he grabs me and knock his arm away because I can’t handle the kind of excuse he’s about to give me.

“I just want to talk, okay?” His face is an even mix of the pity I hate and sadness.

“Do you?” This time it’s me who steps toward him, and he backs up like I wanted him to, only I don’t want to be arguing with him at all.

He shrugs with his armful of books. “I just got your text this morning. I’m so sorry, Pen.”

I think about Gramps and the dancing and how for the first time Mitch didn’t come when I called. “You left me,” I whisper, only I didn’t mean to. The way Dad left me. The way Mom’s leaving me now, and the way Gramps’s memory is taking him away.

“I left? Penny, you’re the one who left the party.” He pulls in a deep breath as he leans back. “Wait. We’re talking about two different things. I think.”

I try to shake my head, but I’m slowly going numb so I’m not sure if it works. “How long did it take you notice I was gone? I got home to a naked Gramps last night and you were the only person I knew to call. And you didn’t answer.”

He stares at me for a moment, absorbing everything. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t check my phone until this morning. It’s that I—”

“I don’t want your excuses right now.” I spin and walk away.

“Penny,” he pleads.

I grit my teeth. “Not. Right. Now.”

I hear Mitch’s books hit the ground about two seconds before his fist connects with the nearest locker.

Mitch’s frustration or hurt or anger always ends in him bloodying his stupid knuckles. And he should feel bad. I feel hollowed out and horrible that he didn’t answer when I needed him, but even as that thought goes through my head, I know it’s more than missing one text. It’s all the things that ran through my head at the party last night. How I’m losing him along with everyone else.

“I’m sorry, Penny,” he calls. “Okay?”

I’m definitely not okay. Not yet.

…

“Penny!” a girl yells from across the parking lot. It’s hard to tell if it’s an angry yell, or a get-my-attention yell. It’s not like I have a lot, or really any girls that are friends, so I spin around.

Tiny little Rebecca’s coming my way, her face flat. Not angry, not happy, just…confused. This is not what I need.

The snow’s almost gone on the roadways now, and the slush is getting all over her shoes, but she doesn’t seem to notice. This surprises me because she’s someone who squeals at every tease, and the kind of person I’d expect to be worried about shoes.

But do I actually want to talk to Mitch’s girlfriend knowing she probably knows about my freak-out in the stairway?

Not so much.

I jerk open my truck door, and she sprints to where I’m standing. “No! Wait!”

“I have nothing to say to you.” I tighten my jaw but don’t climb in. Why am I not climbing in?

“Yeah? Well have a whole lot to say to you.” She sticks her chin out, but she’s about six inches shorter than I am, so her action impresses me a bit because she’s not backing down.

This whole situation is… It’s just so cheesy teen movie ridiculous that I laugh.

She reaches out and pushes my truck door closed, stopping my laugh. Whoa.

Anger presses in where the hurt and fear and worry has been. “What do you want, Rebecca?” I’m tired and I’m thinking and feeling way too much for one person.

“I don’t know where to start.” But her manicured brows are pulled together in determination, and I’m not sure if I want to run away or wait this out.

“Why don’t you start with why you’re ruining your shoes just to talk to me?” I offer.

“Oh, shit.” She stares at the ground for a moment.

And I know this is a jerk move, but I’m completely out of my comfort zone and I’m ready for it to be over. “Anytime today would be cool.”

Rebecca bites her lip again. “I’ve lived under your shadow with him since we started dating. He talks about you all the time. I keep waiting for the day when he tells me he’s in love with you. I’ve wanted to talk to you about it a million times, but I knew you’d probably laugh at me.”

“Or give you a black eye.” I keep my face straight, being kind of a bitch again, I know, but I don’t know how to talk to her. I’ve always hung out with the boys—been the hockey girl. And to be honest with myself, I also want to see her reaction.

She takes a deep breath but holds her ground. I feel a random twinge of admiration when I really don’t want to. “I really love him. A lot. And he was the one who asked if there was any chance I’d want to go to Michigan or Washington because he was leaving for hockey, and I never thought I’d get a shot at someone like him.”

What? I lean against Bitty and take in Rebecca. Smooth curls today. Eyes huge with makeup. Dressed… Well, like she actually gives a crap. I figured a girl like her would expect to get a guy like him. I don’t like that Rebecca’s not fitting into the neat stereotype I put her in before now.

“And I keep waiting for it to all be some big joke, and he keeps coming back to me, and when he got detention over punching that locker during your fight, or whatever that was… Again. I thought he was about to walk away.” She sniffs a few times before taking even breaths, and I almost tell her to hit something because it works better, but I hold it in.

Mitch walked away from me. For her. What does she want from me? She’s got him already. “What do you want?”

“Please talk to him. It’s making him crazy that he hurt your feelings. He said you needed help last night and he didn’t know until it was too late. I know you don’t care what things are like between Mitch and me, and I also know that me telling you to talk to a guy that I wish you weren’t close to could seriously backfire…” Her words tumble over each other, and she actually looks serious. She cares if Mitch and I are getting along. Why is she being nice? Mitch’s non-reply to my text stung, and now the niceness of Rebecca, and how I pushed away Bishop, and Gramps’s episode all well up inside me. I can’t cry in front of her. Can’t.

I open the door of my truck. This is it. I have to get out of here. I should tell Rebecca she’ll never have to worry about me and her guy, because last night was the final bit of proof that she definitely comes first in his world.

“Please, Penny.” She grabs my door. “He’s a grouchy ass right now, and it sucks knowing he’s broken up over someone else.”

“I gotta go,” I say as I climb in my car.

“Yeah. Okay. Just… Please think about it, okay?” She looks down, and I shut the door between us, needing to be home. Away. On the ice. Anything.

Only now I start to get what Mitch sees in her. She’s smart. Probably doesn’t give him half as much shit as I would. And she wasn’t afraid to come talk to me—that’s something.

Plus, if I’m being honest with myself, my heart doesn’t feel like it’s cracking because I’m in love with Mitch—it’s that we don’t have the relationship I thought. He’s leaving me behind, and like so many things in my life, I have no say in it. That’s not Rebecca’s fault, even though I want it to be.

I roll down my window. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

Her face snaps up, and relief fills her eyes. “Thank you, Penny. Really. Thank you.”

I open my mouth to say something else, but I don’t how to do this girl talk stuff, so I mumble a “sure,” roll up my window, and drive away.

The drive home takes forever, and I realize it’s because I’m looking forward to seeing Bishop.

And then there’s this wave of realization over how narrowing my sights on Mitch, who would never have me, has made me probably miss a lot of opportunities to be around kickass guys who maybe would.

I wonder if Bishop will be up for something today. Snowmachining or maybe he’d play drums for me, or we could go hang in the upstairs room or work on my car. As soon as I hit the driveway, I sprint to his cabin. Because I’m not the girl for most guys—not the kind of guys who would want to deal with me, at least—but he was the one who kissed me.

He pulls open the door with a smile and there’s a girl behind him.

A girl.

I swear my gut hits the floor. She looks like… A girl’s girl. A real girl. Like Rebecca but blond. And in every other way, the opposite of me. I can’t breathe. No air. Chest still being pulled apart. Mitch saw me lose it today, and Rebecca nearly did. I don’t need this.

“What’s up, Penny?” He sounds like he’s trying way too hard for his voice to be relaxed.

“You’re busy. I’ll go.” Wow my voice sounds way more normal than I thought it would for someone who feels like she’s drowning. Now I need to move, but I can’t. It’s like someone’s put me on pause and slowed my world down—as if I really wanted this moment to last.

“I gotta take off for a bit.” He shuffles his feet, looking nervous. “If um…Gary calls will you cover? Say I’m with you and that I fell asleep in front of the TV or something?”

I’m so stunned I’m not sure I’m breathing, and I’m still on pause. I need to not freak out for a minute longer because everything in me is splintering. I barely held on all day, and was excited to have the chance to see him, and now… Now I’m thinking I’ll be the single girl who hangs with the guys, but doesn’t actually date, for the rest of my life. I step back off his porch to go…I don’t even know where.

“Penny?” he calls from behind me.

“Yeah. Fine. I have homework.” My feet feel weird in the snow, like my body still isn’t working right, and I begin to wonder if I’m totally overreacting.

Though, at this moment, I don’t care because I have no idea how to shake this feeling.

I get that I walked away from him last night, but I expected he’d try again. That I’d at least have a chance to explain why I ran away. And now I’m offering to be his alibi so he can…go somewhere with a real girl. If we weren’t making shitloads of money off these two—and if he hadn’t helped me last night—there’s no way I’d help him out right now. And I’m not totally decided that I will.

After what feels like an obscenely long walk across the yard, my insides chewing themselves up, I finally make it to the house and pull in a breath deep enough to force my chest to loosen. I’m such a raging idiot. Bishop. And me. The guy oozes something indefinably incredible—why on earth would he want me? Guys want “real” girls, even when they tell me that tough girls are hot. Because it’s pretty obvious to me right now that I’m not what guys want.

Chapter Thirteen

Bishop

The urge to puke hits, and I actually have to fight it down. Last night I’d been all screwed up in the head. I couldn’t believe I kissed her. Couldn’t believe she told me no. Actually, what I can’t believe is that it bothers me so much. She’s just a girl, or should be anyway, so there’s no reason I should have felt like someone kicked the crap out of me. No reason I should have sat behind my drums all night, beating out all my pent up energy, with nothing except Penny on the brain.

I should have just moved on.

So, I called Maryanne to make sure I did.

It felt right at the time, but now watching Penny walk away, I know it’s wrong. Not because I think she wants me. She made it pretty obvious she didn’t when she pushed me away, but because Alaska Bishop feels a little different than the other Bishop. Alaska Bishop kicks ass on the snowmachine, explores mines, fixes cars with Gramps, and watches Penny play hockey. Alaska Bishop may take something every few days, but it’s only to keep him on track. He doesn’t almost OD.

Maryanne knows the other me, not this one, and I don’t think I can mix the two.

My head is so screwed up. There can’t really be two me’s.

“Who was that?” Maryanne snaps her gum, sounding bored. I’m sure she is. Even though she jumped on a plane to come here, this isn’t Maryanne’s kind of place. For her, it was an adventure, though. A way to hang out with me and party. Maryanne likes to party, and I like to party with her. Plus, it’s one of the perks of money—of fame. The fact that all I had to do was buy a ticket and she was willing to come when I called her. That there’s always someone willing to come.

“A friend,” I tell her before closing the door.

“Bishop, are you hooking up with the locals?” she teases, trying to wrap her arms around me from behind, but I dodge her.

“Gary will be back soon. If this is going to work, we need to get out of here now.” After walking over to the couch, I grab my bag. I can’t believe I’m doing this while Gary’s taking Troy to the airport. Can’t believe I’m doing it at all.

“I’m still shocked they made you come here and sent you with a babysitter. That’s such bullshit.”

For a minute, I wonder if she remembers what happened to me. That she was there, laughing and dancing when I almost OD’d, but I don’t because she’s right. It is crap. Not that things aren’t better here than I thought, but because they forced me. “It’s not that bad. Like a vacation.” We head out to her rental car.

On the way, I text Gary to tell him I’m with Penny. Tightness runs the length of me again, thinking about her. I feel like such a jerk, but I’m not even sure if I should or not. I guess the fact that I do should tell me something. Like I should stop and go back. Tell Maryanne to take the car back to the airport so she can go home. So I don’t fuck up again.

I lean back in the seat and think about Gramps, wondering if he remembers what happened last night. If things will be weird the next time I see him. Maybe it’ll be like tit for tat. He keeps my secrets, and I keep his. Not that his Alzheimer’s is a secret, but I’m pretty sure it’s not something he wants to talk about.

“You’re awful quiet. You’re not usually like this.”

Maryanne reaches over and squeezes my leg. I try to smile at her but can’t quite make it happen. I feel the beginnings of panic grip my insides, little scratches from nails threatening to slice me open. I don’t know why, what I have to be freaked out about, but it’s there, trying to claw to the surface. Maybe I do need a night of Maryanne to clear my head.

“You got anything to drink?”

Maryanne reaches into her huge purse and hands me a water bottle. I twist off the top and down the whole thing, which helps a little.

“Do you have any smokes?” She glances at me.

“Nah. I’m trying to quit.” Just since last night, but whatever. That’s what makes me suddenly realize what’s different. Why I’m so freaked out. The Bishop Maryanne knows smokes. That doesn’t feel like who I should be here. When I’m with Maryanne, we party. Partying is different than taking a pill every couple of days like I do in Alaska. The last time I partied, I almost died. Almost left Mom alone.

I don’t want to go back to that night.

“Wow…that’s new.”

If she knew me, she would know it’s not. I’ve always hated smoking. I just do it.

Finally, we pull into a tiny, hole-in-the-wall hotel. “Nice place,” I say, trying to chill out.

“Whatever. You’re the one who dragged me to this crappy town.”

Her words make me frown, but Maryanne gets out of the car and leads me to her room.

It’s about the same size as my cabin only not as nice. It’s got a cheap picture on the wall and an old blanket on the bed. The TV looks like it’s fifty years old. Dust flies up when I sit in the chair by the window.

Now what?

My leg starts bouncing and I start drumming my hands on my knees, wishing I was back at the cabin with my drums instead of here.

“Relax, Bishop. Damn, you’re wound up tight.” She tosses her bright pink bag on the bed and does the hair flip thing girls do. It’s blond, but all I can think of is it’s not the right blond. It looks fake. Maybe not fake, but not as…pure as Penny’s, and then I feel like an idiot for thinking things like that about her. I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all.

“You got anything?” Maryanne asks.

She doesn’t even have to specify what she’s talking about. Even though I just drank the water, I feel thirsty again. “Nope. Your stuff hasn’t come. You?”

The memory of holding Gramps’s pill bottles makes my palms itch. I squeeze my hands into fists, trying to forget. Trying to focus on my drums, working on the Corvette, and snowmachining with Penny.

The girl is exhausting. In a good way.

When I kissed her, it felt so fucking awesome I thought she had to be feeling it, too. But really it was just a screw up, since she obviously wasn’t. And then I got back to my cabin, and the whole night came crashing back down around me. The hockey game. How it felt to hold Gramps’s pills. The kiss. Back and forth between kissing and pills, kissing and pills. I hadn’t been able to turn my brain off until I called Maryanne. She’d be able to help. She always had.

“Now, Bishop… What kind of question is that?” She winks at me before she opens her bag. “I have a bottle of vodka.”

I want to tell her to stop.

I want to tell her to hurry up.

Not understanding either of the reactions, I try to ignore them and let her do what she wants to do.

Maryanne pulls a bottle out of her bag, shaking a couple pills out before she tosses them into her mouth and sucks down water from another bottle.

Both my legs are moving, and both my hands are drumming, and my heart is trying to find the same rhythm as my hands and my legs, and it all feels like too much.

And not enough at the same time.

“What’cha got?” I push to my feet, walk over, and sit on the bed. A little voice whispers that I should go—this nagging sense of wrongness overwhelms me. I’m so sick of feeling guilty for everything.

After grabbing the bottles, I fumble them in my hands. Then I read each one until I find what I want. My hands tremble as I shake three pills out.

Maryanne tries to hand me the vodka, but I grab the water. See? That’s good. If I had a problem I’d drink the vodka. I look at the pills. Take another drink. Glance at the pills again.

Fuck it.

I toss all three in my mouth and swallow.

I expect the hyperactive limbs to slow, but they don’t. Expect to feel better, but I don’t. I’m still thinking about Gramps and Penny and that stupid guilt still spreading like a disease inside me.

Trying to relax, I lean against the headboard of the bed and grab the remote to the ancient TV. News blares through the speakers, and they’re talking about hockey, which makes me think about Penny and how awesome and motivated she is. She wants to play on a men’s team. That’s pretty incredible. My guilt spreads even faster, so I turn the station.

“What’s wrong with you, B.R.? Did they give you a lobotomy here or something?” She laughs, and I try to do the same, but it doesn’t happen. This isn’t me—this fucked-up, conflicted feeling cementing inside me. I pick up the vodka. Maybe I just need a drink to relax.

Before I get a chance, Maryanne takes matters into her own hands, crawling onto the bed and then straddling my lap. Her short skirt pulls high up her legs. “I know what will make you feel better.”

She leans forward, but I again notice her hair is the wrong color, and she smells like cigarettes. Penny hates that smell, and now that I think about it, I do, too.

Maryanne’s lips come toward me. I’ve kissed them before. I’ve done more than that with her and liked the way it felt, but this time, I turn my head, her mouth landing nowhere near its destination.

She isn’t deterred, though, her lips just making a trail toward my mouth and this time, I don’t stop her. Penny said she can’t so there’s no reason I shouldn’t.

My mouth opens and Maryanne’s tongue slides inside. Now I not only smell cigarettes but I taste them. Gramps would give me hell. So would Penny. And Gary.

This feels wrong. I feel wrong, so I turn away from her.

“Bishop?” She doesn’t sound hurt, just confused.

“I can’t.” Penny’s words from last night are now coming out of my mouth. It’s almost like an out-of-body experience. Why am I being this way? It’s just kissing Maryanne. It’s not a big deal.

“Sorry, I’m just not in the mood.” I lift Maryanne from my lap before getting off the bed myself. My gut is cramping up. I’m not sure if it’s in my head or not. “I’m not feeling so well.”

I close the bathroom door behind me before splashing water on my face. It helps a little, waking me up and shocking me into reality. My body has that light, floaty feeling it always gets when I’m high, but I can’t tell if I like it or not.

Then I’m back in the main room again. “Listen… I think I better get back.”

She just rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Bishop. You’re losing it, you know that?”

Right now, I’m thinking she should be pissed, or at least care a little bit. Blake might be right. Would she be okay with anything just to be around me?

I’m not sure if I’m losing it or finding it, so I nod. When she tells me she wants to go back to L.A., I get on my phone and buy her a plane ticket. We drive back toward the cabins in silence. When we’re almost there, I tell her to pull over so I can walk the rest of the way in. My body sort of relaxes at the thought, and I realize I’m not only walking so we don’t get caught, but maybe because I need it. “I’m sorry about this. I just have a lot going on.”

“It’s okay. I’ve never been to Alaska. Got me out of town for a day.” She shrugs. “Call me when you get back and we’ll chill.”

I nod. When I’m back home with her, things will be different. I’ll be normal.

I actually feel pretty good about myself right now, like I did the right thing. Then, Maryanne pulls out a baggy, with about ten pills inside. “I brought these for you, since the package never came.”

Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

Why shouldn’t I do it? Why am I suddenly worried? I reach out and grab it before stuffing them in my boot. “Thanks.”

Get out of the car. Close the door. Watch her drive away. One foot in front of the other. Walk. That’s what each step feels like—a checklist of activities, and I’m not really doing them.

The baggy scratches my leg with each pace. There’s a direct line from the spot it touches me to my brain, making it all I think about.

I stop, pull the bag out, and count them. Twelve. I was wrong. There are twelve pills. Now that I know how many are there, I push them back into my boot and walk again.

Sucking in a deep breath, I try to focus on the cold air, look at the trees, and remember the feel of grease on my hands. My mind flashes to Penny and her white-blond hair, and riding snowmachines, and working with Gramps.

I pass the driveway and keep going. Keep breathing and thinking. Soon, I don’t feel the scratch of the baggy anymore, though I know it’s there. The more I walk, the clearer my head becomes. On and on, I keep going, struggling to let it all go—to find that peace Gary tells me I have.

And then…there it is. I find it and wish like hell it will last.