Chapter Seven
The Touch
Becca’s hand seemed welded to Kayde’s. Her heart pounded in her chest, but the sound of it was lost under the music that erupted in her mind and heart when her fingertips had touched Kayde’s hand. The deep darkness that had been her captor for so long had suddenly vanished. Her soul had burst open to powerful, beautiful light; and the music, that song she knew she’d heard somewhere before, played so clearly that, if she’d had a pen and paper and could write fast enough, she could’ve scrawled out the notes to the entire song in a split second.
He’s magic! That was Becca’s only thought. It was crazy, she wasn’t thinking clearly. But it was the only way her mind could explain what was happening. She and Kayde continued to stare at each other, eyes and mouths gaping. Could he hear the song, too? Did he feel it? Did he feel that strange energy that grew more powerful with every second they touched? She looked into his green eyes as if the answers to her questions could be found within their awestruck gaze.
“Becca? What’s that matter? Are you okay?” Chris’ worried voice broke through the song still playing in Becca’s mind. She couldn’t get herself to move. Chris knelt beside her and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away from Kayde.
“No—” she started to say. She didn’t want the connection to break, she didn’t want the darkness to come back. She savored the music, and she savored Kayde’s touch. But as her hand left Kayde’s, she found the melody still echoing in her mind, giving her a quiet peace that had been missing until then. She smiled at Kayde before Chris took his hand and forced Becca’s face towards his. His features were tight with concern.
“I’m okay, Chris.” Becca resisted the urge to laugh, but she couldn’t keep the beaming smile from her lips. “I’m really okay!” she said more excitedly. Chris eyed her warily before glancing over at Kayde. “Oh, Chris, this is Kayde. He’s…a new friend of mine. Kayde,” she said looking at him, “this is my brother, Chris.” She thought she saw Kayde’s shoulders relax. He smiled slightly and nodded at Chris.
“This is all real pleasant, but what’s this jerk going to do about my fender? Do you even have insurance?” Kayde’s back stiffened at the sound of Terrance’s bitter voice. Becca stood abruptly, and then spoke to Terrance as Chris helped Kayde to his feet. She had peculiar urge to defend Kayde; she reminded herself of the Border collie they’d had when they were kids. That dog had put herself between the kids and danger on several occasions, guarding her brood with bristled hair and bared teeth.
“He wouldn’t have such a nice bike and no insurance, Terrance,” she said irritably. He looked at her, his gray eyes taking on a hungry look for a moment; his light brown hair dance wildly on the fingers of a breeze. His muscular frame seemed taut, like an animal ready to pounce. Becca shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She hated it when he looked at her like that.
Kayde had his arms crossed over his chest, his brows furrowed. He spoke, drawing Terrance’s attention back on him, “I lost my wallet yesterday in the storm. But my insurance is under my dad’s name—Reed Harper.”
Harper. Kayde Harper. The name whispered in Becca’s mind, making her smile.
“Oh, so riding without proof of insurance and without your license?” Terrance’s face was taking on an ornery gleefulness. He didn’t get much action in Glenville and this was like hitting the jack pot.
But Kayde had pulled his license from his back pocket. He handed it to a disappointed policeman. “I had it in my duffel bag on my bike,” Kayde said as Terrance ripped the card from Kayde’s hand.
Terrance shook the card at Kayde, giving him a stern look, “I’ll just check this out. We’ll see if you have insurance.”
“Am I allowed to pick up my bike, Sir?” Kayde said, sounding extremely disrespectful.
Becca swallowed a lump of nerves. Was he trying to get arrested? Terrance glared back at him for a moment, looked at Becca, and gave Kayde a curt nod before disappearing into his cruiser.
Chris and Becca helped Kayde lift the motorcycle from the wet pavement as passers-by gawked. A few bits of metal and broken glass clattered as they fell away from the damaged Shadow. Becca’s heart sank at Kayde’s dismal groan. She looked at him sympathetically, but couldn’t think of anything helpful to say. She knew from watching Chris with his dirt bike how attached a guy could get to his motorcycle.
Kayde’s face revealed pain deeper than just a broken toy or hobby, though. Becca wondered what story the bike carried with it to cause such sadness.
“It’s not so bad,” Chris spoke up encouragingly. “A few dings. If you let me, I could help you get it fixed quickly. I know a good place to get parts.”
Becca looked hopefully at Kayde. The guy just scowled and shook his head. He looked like he was about to say something sour to Chris, but pressed his lips together before releasing a heavy sigh. Finally, he looked up at Chris. He didn’t smile, but his mumbled words caused a stupid giddiness to tickle inside Becca’s belly. “I’d appreciate that.”
Terrance returned, his expression grumpy. “You do have insurance, but I’m still ticketing you for no proof on your person.” He quickly scribbled out a ticket, ripped it out of the booklet with exaggerated force, and handed it to Kayde. Terrance didn’t take his dark glare off of Kayde until he got in the cruiser and drove away.
The next day, Becca stood shyly by while Chris and Kayde worked on the Shadow in Mrs. Kline’s garage. The two guys seemed to hit it off right away, much to her delight. Of course, talking bikes drew them together, and it wasn’t long before they were lost in the world of motorcycles. Occasionally, Chris would ask her to hand him a tool. After a while, Kayde surprised her by asking her to hand him a wrench.
A peculiar flutter tickled her tummy as she handed him the tool. Kayde absentmindedly reached back, his attention still on the bike. The cold metal seemed to heat when his hand touched the wrench, his fingers curling gently over hers at the center.
Kayde stopped what he was doing and turned his head suddenly toward her. The music danced in Becca’s mind, swirling through her thoughts and emotions like silky tendrils of light. After a few moments, they found each other smiling. Becca felt her cheeks flush, suddenly aware that Chris had turned to see what was going on. Reluctantly, she let go of the wrench. Chris cleared his throat, drawing Kayde’s attention back to their work. But the feeling, and the music, kept time in Becca’s heart.
The days that followed were strange and exciting. Becca had thought Kayde to be so dark and mysterious before—that was alluring enough. Now, she was seeing a different side to her biker friend. He smiled more. He seemed curious and bashful at times. He even laughed occasionally when he and Chris worked on the Shadow. And, he often looked at Becca with an intensity that caused her heart to beat at least three times faster than usual.
However, she was disappointed that all the time she spent near him was only when Chris was helping him with the Shadow. She had to find a way to get closer, to find some time alone with Kayde and find out what all the crazy music was about.
Becca relayed her plans to Toby after school one day. She’d been toying with the idea of asking Kayde out to dinner. Toby was less than enthusiastic about the idea; he still didn’t trust Kayde. Gossip had sprouted all over town, started by Terrance, Becca was sure, but Toby was taking a lot of it to heart.
“I don’t like this, Becca,” Toby told her as they walked to his green, 1979 Plymouth Duster. At least her Malibu wasn’t that old. Toby’s car had a brand new engine, but the frame was dented and in desperate need of a paint job. Just another thing he used to irk his mother. She would have him driving the shiniest, sportiest, newest model in existence if Toby would’ve allowed her to buy it for him.
All traces of snow had vanished and the sun smiled in the sky, warming the air to a perfect sixty five degrees. “What if Kayde really did mean to ram Terrance’s car? He ran a background ch
eck on him, you know. He doesn’t exactly have a perfect record.” Toby stuffed the book he’d been carrying into his back pack and flung the pack over his shoulder. A puff of spring breeze ruffled dark hair over his worried eyes.
Becca scowled. “Toby, you of all people should know not to listen to gossip! Terrance would say anything bad about anyone who showed any interest in me other than friendship. You know this.”
They’d nearly reached Toby’s car. He watched his own feet as they walked. “Maybe,” he mumbled. Becca could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“Hey, Tate!” a gruff voice shouted across the crowded parking lot. The chatter of people on cell phones mixed with the revving of engines as the throng of spring-fevered teens left school.
“Just ignore him, Toby. Get in the car and let’s go!” Becca said. Gabe Foster, the bully of Glenville High, strode toward them with eager strides. His tall, wide frame loomed over the other kids as he sauntered their way. His greasy, dark brown hair hung in his eyes as he glared with ugly pleasure at his favorite victim.
Why does there always have to be a bully? Becca’s hand was on the passenger side handle of the Duster when Gabe caught up with them.
“Hey, Tate. You dropped this back there,” Gabe said. Becca watched as Toby mechanically turned to see what he could’ve possibly dropped. Gabe held up a piece of notebook paper; chaotic writing and illustrations covered both sides.
Toby’s face paled, but he spoke evenly. “Thanks, Gabe.” He reached out for the paper and, typical of Neanderthal behavior, Gabe snatched it out of Toby’s reach just as he was about to touch it.
“Oops! Sorry, must’ve slipped!” He lowered the paper again, laughing as a couple of his brainless cronies—Tim and Greg—strode up behind him, eager as dogs to see what all the fun was about. Toby didn’t move.
“Leave him alone, Gabe,” Becca sighed. Seriously, didn’t he ever get tired of being an idiot?
“Awe, Becs, just having a little fun. It’s spring! School’s almost over and then what will I do for fun without my wittle Tate?” Toby’s face had gone from pale to burning red as Gabe wrapped his arm around Toby’s neck and squeezed in mock affection. He kept the paper in the other hand, out of Toby’s reach.
Becca’s skin prickled. She detested the nickname Gabe had given her. Although she could think of a few names that would better suit Gabe. She scowled and strode over to the other side of the car, keeping her angry gaze on the bully. His friends jeered behind him, “Ooh, Gabe! You’re in trouble now!” Nervous, Becca continued to stride toward Toby’s captor.
She stopped and stood five inches in front of Gabe, her nose only as high as his chest, just above his already forming beer gut; she glared up at him, attempting to hide her growing fear. “Let him go and give him the paper,” Becca said between gritted teeth.
Gabe laughed down at her. “Make me, midget.”
“Becca, it’s okay. Just let it go. I’ll be fine,” Toby’s voice wavered and Becca knew he was worried for her sake. He’d taken beatings from Gabe in the past but Becca had never seen it happen. Gabe taunted Toby in class often enough, but the coward had always waited until Toby was alone to do the beating. The thought of him hurting her friend enraged Becca.
Without a word, she stomped on Gabe’s foot, throwing all her weight into her heel. She backed quickly away as he doubled over and howled with pain, bringing Toby forward with him. The paper crumpled in Gabe’s other hand as his two thugs asked if he was okay. Frenzied butterflies fluttered in Becca’s stomach. What had she just done?
Gabe looked up at Becca from his hunched position. Toby was still struggling to break free of his vice-grip. Slowly, Gabe’s face turned from an expression of pain to one of evil delight. “Just for that,” he breathed before swinging his fist, which still held the crumpled paper, and punched Toby in the gut.
Chapter Eight
The Bully and the Hero