The Tomboy & the Rebel Page 3

There was nothing for him and me to talk about. I’d talk to Mr. Rios and explain that being partners with Darren was going to do more bad than good. Principal Darwin had to back up my story, and I could do this project on my own.

  The way I seemed to do most things these days.

  When I made it home, I dug my key from my deep pocket and shoved it into the front door, pushing it open with a grateful sigh. The air conditioner blew in my face and I groaned, dropping my bag to the floor—carefully; my camera was in there—and then made my way to the kitchen for a drink.

  I opened the fridge, forgetting that my world wasn’t the same anymore, and Mom never went shopping for more than Hot Pockets and cereal. If she remembered to go shopping. Sighing once more after finding the fridge empty, I filled a glass with ice-water and chugged it down to the bottom before filling it up.

  Having forgotten to check in the driveway for her car, I peered upstairs nervously. “Mom?” I called, my voice frail.

  I went over to the front window and kneeled on the window seat, pressing my cheek to the glass to peer around the column blocking the driveway. Her car was gone. She wasn’t there.

  I sat on the window chair and wondered if it made me a terrible daughter to be somewhat relieved. It was just that she was emotionally haywire these days. Ignoring me while I was in the same room wasn’t the same as not being there. At least it wasn’t to me.

  “I need a dog,” I mumbled to myself, swinging my legs and knocking my feet against the wooden front of the window seat. “Or a cat. They’re pretty independent. Puppy’s need too much attention.”

  Like me.

  If I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, I could remember a time when the living room wasn’t covered in dust motes, and the furniture wasn’t upturned from fights, and it was filled with movie nights and nauseating kisses from my parents. Funny how I could miss that now. The googly eyes and make out sessions. At the time it was just gross. Now, it was missed.

  When I opened my eyes, it was just a dusty, messy, and forgotten living room. When my stomach growled, I started digging through my pockets and backpack for some stray change. I managed to wrangle together four-dollars and a lone quarter. I took my newfound riches and locked the front door, heading down the street for the corner store. I ate my Hot Cheetos and Pepsi on the busy curb, watching the cars drive by, the smiling, clueless people.

  The heat from the day rippled on the asphalt, rising to the sky in clear ripples.

  When I got home, Mom was there. I held my breath and stepped inside, finding the downstairs dark, a lone light shining at the top of the stairs.

  I snagged my backpack and took the stairs, unbreathing. I didn’t know what I expected. Either she screamed and grounded me like she would have done two years ago, or she nodded and said, “Hey, Mel,” like I was a friendly stranger renting a room down the hall.

  I wanted her to scream and ground me.

  When I got to the top of the stairs I peered into her room, spying movement. I broached the edge of her door and heard her talking in a hushed whisper.

  “He thinks he can just hang up on me? I’ll show that cheating bas—” Her head snapped up when she noticed me, and she smiled emptily. “Hey, Mel.” Her room was a complete disaster. Gone was the made bed and morning watching cooking shows.

  I wanted her to pull me in for a hug and ask me about my day.

  “Did you eat?” she asked, but she turned back to her packing suitcase before she heard my answer.

  “I had a steak dinner in town with my new boyfriend. He’s in a band and smokes.” I leaned against her door and stared daggers at her.

  “That’s good, hon. I’ve got to fly out for a couple days.” She peered at me for a second. “Business,” she lied.

  She was flying after Dad. She’d been fired from her nursing job six months ago. He’d already told me that he’d be gone until Sunday night with “a client,” and I wouldn’t be spending my weekend with him. Looked like I wouldn’t be spending my weekend with Mom either.

  Dad’s new girlfriend, Astrid, was an artist. She sometimes had to fly out to client’s places and discuss pieces and deliver jobs. Astrid was only twenty-two, and the most instrumental tool in my mother’s demise. Dad loved rubbing her age in her face. He loved ruining my mother’s smiles. I guessed they made his own bigger, and better. He was an accountant and could work anywhere, hence his recent four-bedroom purchase in Paradise Valley.

  “Can my drug addict friends come over while you’re gone?”

  “Sure, love.” She lifted her suitcase and grabbed her ticket. “I’ve got to go.” She bent to kiss the top of my hair. “Brush your teeth!” she called, taking the stairs, her amber hair floating after her before the front door slammed, and a moment later I heard her car race out of the driveway.

  I swallowed my emotions down and took the hall to the far end bedroom. I used to have the room next to theirs, but I couldn’t stand the fighting, and moved it when it became unbearable. It felt like I lived alone. I even considered getting a roommate but thought better of opening my doors to a stranger. It was bad enough I had to live there.

  The moment I closed and locked my door behind me, I sighed in acute relief. My bedroom was my safe place. Covered in pictures, comfy chairs, and a huge bed. There was a TV, and I’d managed to save up enough for a streaming service from my job over the summer. I took out the little bit of Hot Cheetos I still had left, and fell onto my bed, staring up at the swan-like constellation of Cygnus that Sean and I had spent an entire summer getting just right.

  The tragic story of Phaethon, the son of Helios the sun god, who demanded to ride his father's sun chariot for a day. Phaethon was unable to control the reins, though, forcing Zeus to destroy the chariot with a thunderbolt, causing it to plummet to the earth into the river Eridanus, killing Phaethon. Phaethon's brother, Cygnus, grieved and spent many days diving into the river to collect Phaethon's bones to give him a proper burial. The gods were so touched by Cygnus’s devotion to his brother that they turned Phaethon into a swan and placed him among the stars.

  I loved the story behind the myth. The idea of loving someone so much, you’d spend hours and hours collecting the parts of them left behind and being rewarded with your very own constellation to always see. Sean said it was morose, but what did Sean know? He was in love with Super Maisy, and I was just his friend.

  Missing him, I licked the red dust off my fingers and rolled over to snag my backpack off the floor. His phone rang twice before he answered.

  “I saw your mom drive out of there like I do from gym. What happened?”

  “She’s on a mission,” I answered. “Catch Dad smiling so she can show him her tears.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Bad day?” he guessed, and I broke down.

  “You don’t even know the half of it, Sean.”

  “Did you have dinner?” When I hesitated, he continued. “I’ll bring some snacks and let my mom know I’ll be sleeping at your place. See you in ten.”

  “Sean?”

  “Yeah, Mel?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mel,” he said, a smile in his voice. “It’s a good thing that you can still say that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean look at your mom and dad. Love should scare the living crap out of you.”

  “Love didn’t do that to them, Sean.”

  “Then what did?” he asked.

  “Hatred.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I let the alarm roar in my ears.

  Sean groaned, his feet smacking into my shoulder. He slept on my bed facing the other way because we’d faced enough of the other’s morning breath to know it wasn’t pretty.

  “Turn that thing off,” he growled, flinging a pillow at my face.

  I’d slept like crap, turning the events of the day before over in my mind. I had replayed the slap a million and one times, and it still didn’t fit right in my life. It was a wonky out of place piece I feared woul
d become normal. The fighting and the divorce were impossible to understand and deal with at first too. Now look at me. I was a pro.

  I turned my alarm clock off and sat up, meeting Sean’s sleepy, red eyes. “I can’t face him.”

  He sighed and fell back down, messy locks twisted and crazy from sleep. “Yes, you can, and you will. You don’t have a choice, Mel. Mr. Rios won’t switch you. I had him last year, too, remember? He’s a hard ass on purpose. People take that class thinking they’ll breeze through, or fade away, and he forces you to do the opposite. It’s not a big deal. Say you’re sorry to Darren and go back to hating him.”

  “What about the counseling? I don’t need counseling.”

  He paused, and I knew before he even said it that he thought I did. “Would it be such a bad thing to talk to someone? It might help?”

  “I can talk to you.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not an adult with a broad since of clarity. All I see is what’s in front of me.” He waved his arms around my room, his voice thick with sleep sludge. “And that’s not what you need.”

  “What do I need?” I asked doubtfully.

  “Answers. Help. An ear. Reason. You need something that your parents aren’t giving you.” He gave me a sincere look. “Try and take it seriously. It might do you some good.”

  “Hmm,” I grunted, knowing for a fact that it would not do me any good. It would only make things worse.

  Sean said he’d see me later and asked if I was taking the bus to school. I said I’d rather walk, and then reached for the hem of my shirt before he could continue. “Melanie boobs!” he screeched, and flinging his arm over his eyes, he made a run for it out of my room, saving me from telling him the truth.

  I wasn’t going to be on the bus, and it didn’t matter if I walked; I wasn’t going to school today. I went downstairs and found an old half-torn open packet of hot cocoa. I filled a mug with tap water and shoved it into the microwave, fighting tears.

  “No crying. Feel nothing.” I sucked back my tears and returned to my room, where I spent the entire day going through shots I’d taken from the past summer. I’d spent most of my time with Sean, and on the rare occasions he’d been able to borrow his mother’s car, we’d gotten out of Phoenix.

  Sean and Genna were the only two people in my life who didn’t demand an emotional load in return, mostly because they themselves didn’t know how to handle their own emotions.

  Let alone ruin mine.

  At three, the phone downstairs rang twice.

  At three-thirty, Sean called.

  At four, he came by. Luckily, I’d locked the front door before going upstairs. After all, I was a seventeen-year-old girl on her own. A girl had to be protective. Hence staying in my pajamas all day and rationing the last Hot Pocket in the freezer between breakfast and lunch.

  It looked like I’d need to get a job during school, too. I was only legally allowed to work twenty-hours a week, and with class and homework, it would be cutting it close, but close was the only shot I had.

  I was in the middle of searching locales that were hiring when I heard a knock on the door at six that night. Assuming it was Sean—no one else visited me—I heaved out a sigh and padded downstairs, still rumbled and messy as this morning. I passed the blinking red light on the answering machine on my way past the kitchen and cringed. Mind occupied on Principal Darwin, I opened my door without asking who it was first, and instantly regretted it.

  Anticipating my response, his shoe shot out to block the door slamming in his face.

  “What are you doing here?” I growled, not giving up my struggle to shut him out. I pushed harder on the door.

  “What do you think I’m doing here? We have an assignment to do. Not to mention your absence made Mr. Darwin call me back into the office.” He used his elbow to shove the door open, and stepped into my house, looking disgruntled in a loose white shirt and relaxed blue jeans. He had a black cap on with the words truth lies on it in red blocky letters, and tendrils of his chocolate brown hair jutted out of the sides and back, and through the clasp resting on his forehead. His storm cloud eyes churned down at me.

  I gasped when I saw his face. His entire right side was bruised and red, swollen under his eye. It looked like it hurt. Shame crashed into me. I did that to him.

  I hurt him.

  “Yeah,” he said, glowering down at me. “Thanks a lot for the black eye.”

  I looked at my feet. “Get out of my house, Darren.”

  “Melanie!” he snapped, surprising me enough to lift my head. “Would you chill the hell out? What’s going on with you? So you slapped me. I get slapped by women on a weekly basis. Stop feeling bad. It’s not cute on you anyway.”

  In seconds, a smidgen of irritation moved through me. “What would look cute on me? Hearts in my eyes and a tube top?”

  He paused, confusion entering his eyes. “You own a tube top?”

  “No! Wait, why’s that odd? I could own one.” I put my hand on my hip. Okay, I would never actually own a tube top, but the way he said it pissed me off, like I wasn’t in fact a girl, but rather an asexual body.

  His lips rose in an arrogant crooked smile. His eyes dragged over my body, taking in my ripped Wonder Woman pajama shorts and my ultra-baggy Arizona Cardinals shirt I’d stolen from Dad a few years ago. There was a hole over my stomach and a tear in the sleeve. But I liked it. It was comfortable and… safe.

  “You’re right. You could own one. Anything’s possible. But ten bucks says that you don’t.”

  Crap. I could use ten bucks. Unfortunately, I didn’t own one, and his small chuckle said he knew it. “What do you want, Darren?” I snarled, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He shook his head at me, like I was an unruly child he was forced to babysit. But before he could answer, he looked around, and his eyes took in my living room. The dust, the mess, and the upturned furniture. “What happened in there?”

  My stomach dropped. I knew I should lie. Defend my dust motes, but I lost the words somewhere between the lies and the concerned frown between his brows. It was such a cute frown on his hard, handsome face. Something told me that Dare didn’t frown often. Smirk maybe. Scream, sure. But frown? I didn’t see it.

  Hating my response to a few stupid lines between his forehead, I mumbled out a lame excuse of “nothing,” and reached behind him to push the front door closed. “Take your pictures and leave.”

  “Why weren’t you at school today?” he asked instead. “Mr. Darwin seemed concerned.” He tried to appear casual, but I saw the way his eyes took in my house with new, shrewd insight.

  He was kicking up my dust motes, and I wasn’t sure I liked that.

  “I’m not allowed to have boys in my house when my parents aren’t home.” That wasn’t a lie. At least it hadn’t always been a lie.

  He turned to look at me, a smug grin lifting his shapely lips. “That’s the only time I come over.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Does Maisy’s parent’s let you come over when they’re not home?” I retorted.

  A mirthful glimmer danced in his eyes, but he didn’t answer my question directly. I, of course, saw the truth in that glimmer. He was probably an ideal school special candidate for STD’s and teen sex. This is your brains on sex, kids.

  “Jealous, Tom?”

  I snorted. “You wish. Who’s Tom?”

  “You. That’s what Maisy calls you.”

  “Why…?” I almost didn’t want to know. But if I knew what she looked like in her Super Maisy thongies, I supposed it was only fair.

  “Because you’re a tomboy.” He took his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving the silky strands of chocolate wayward and messy, and peering down at me unapologetically.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d been called that. Sean had even written a comic strip called The Tomboy Wars, drawing my entire life in bright colors and speech bubbles as I battled pink dresses and high heels. I detested the title. Why did how I dress define my inability to be a
woman? Who said we had to wear tube tops to be female?

  I saw no logic in giving myself sore feet so girls like Maisy would like me better.

  “Do not call me Tom,” I finally said.

  “Sure thing, Tom.” He brought his hat down on the top of my head and pulled the bill down, giving me a wink. “There we go.”

  I repositioned his hat and glared. “You know the rules, don’t you?”

  “What rules?”

  “You let a girl wear your clothes, you may as well kiss them goodbye. Thanks for the hat, Dare.”

  His cool demeanor faded, and he reached for his hat, but I ducked out of the way, proud to be so much shorter than him. It made moving around his tall long body easier.

  “That hat cost me fifty-bucks. They weren’t free, Tom.” His hand shot out and he snagged my wrist, pulling me back like I weighed nothing.

  I grabbed on to the railing on the stairs and held firm. “Stop. Calling. Me. Tom.” I grunted, digging my nails into the wood.

  He slipped his free hand around my waist, and for all of my effort, you’d think he’d have a harder time. Instead, he planted his hand firm on my belly and pushed me backward, sending my back into his chest. He plucked his hat from the top of my head and put it back on his.

  He smirked triumphantly down at me. “Best two out of three? Winner gets what they want. You snag my hat twice, I’ll leave. I snag it back, we go upstairs, and I find out whether you have curves under those baggy boy clothes.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, we’ll go upstairs and do homework,” he corrected innocently.

  Uh huh. “You have a girlfriend,” I reminded him needlessly.

  His expression sobered. “I know. I know that, Mel,” he snapped. “Trust me, I know.”

  I wondered about his answer, but his relationship troubles weren’t any of my concern. Plus, his hat was cool. I held out my hand. “Deal.”

  “Yeah?” He regained some of his douchebag edge, and a teasing smile played on his lips. “Show me those curves. I mean, homework!” He took off up the stairs.

  I watched him turn left toward the hall, and then rolled my eyes. Boys were so annoying. I took the stairs calmly, and walked down the hall, not shocked to find him in my bedroom. He stood in the middle, taking it all in with wide eyes. He looked so out of place in my refuge.