He was going to be so mad when he learned the truth. No one here wanted to befriend the cerebral palsy girl. What had I been thinking to even hope that Brandt Gamble might?
I was about to wheel away and escape down the hall when I saw him bite his lower lip and glance around him again, as if he was looking for something. And it struck me he was. He was looking for me because I’d promised to meet him.
A ten-second debate took up residence in my head. Approach him like I’d been planning to do before I’d seen him step from the office, or run away like the coward I was. I really—really—wanted to flee. I hated seeing revulsion on people’s faces when they looked at me, and I had a feeling an expression of disgust coming from him would break me.
All my life, I’d thought of myself as some kind of lower life form. My mother treated me as if I were an idiot. She probably had no idea I could actually form rational thoughts and feel feelings all on my own. And Mason...I loved my big brother to death, but he was too concerned about being protective and making sure everyone treated me with respect to realize how trapped I was in my own skin.
It wasn’t until Reese came along and saw me inside my shell of a body that I began to realize I didn’t have to let my limitations actually limit me. I had just as much right to be alive as anyone else on earth. I didn’t have to be ashamed of...well, myself.
Then again, I’d only known Reese a little over eight months now, not all that much time for her to really strengthen my ego. So when I found myself in a situation I wasn’t sure how to handle, I reverted back to my old pitiful-Sarah self, feeling unworthy compared to every other human on the planet.
But Brandt kept hovering there, waiting for me to show. I couldn’t let him down. Plus, I had no idea what I’d tell him when he logged onto Facebook later and demanded to know why I’d flaked out on him.
Beginning to look lost and abandoned, he backed closer to the wall of the hall and tightened the strap of his book bag higher on his shoulder. Unable to let him experience another moment of uncertainty, I motored my wheelchair across the traffic of streaming students and started toward him.
Determined to do this, I plowed forward with maybe a bit too much speed. When he noticed my harried approach, his eyes flared and he stumbled backward to get out of my path. But I turned, following him before braking so fast that the wheels of my chair screeched out a high-pitched whine against the tile floor.
“Uh...” Brandt glanced around him as if seeking instruction as to the proper etiquette when one was accosted by a girl in a wheelchair before he veered his confused gaze back to me.
He had blue eyes, a dark, piercing navy that made the nerves in my stomach shudder madly and my palms turn clammy and gross. I stared up at them a second longer, overwhelmed as he gaped at me, before turning my attention to the computer on my lap. My fingers twitched as they hovered over the keyboard, and I contemplated what to say.
Hi, I’m Sarah?
No, too lame.
Nice black eye.
Ack. That was worse.
Needing to say something—anything—I poked out Welcome to Ellamore Middle School only to erase it and merely say Hey Brandt. Then I looked up at him expectantly. I was so nervous how he’d respond I could hear my heartbeat pound through my ears. What if he laughed at my pathetic-ness, walked away, and never talked to me on Facebook again?
He blinked, his confusion only growing, and I wondered if I should’ve actually spoken the greeting. But I hated talking, so I avoided verbal communication whenever possible.
Finally, Brandt dropped his gaze to the screen of my laptop. His eyebrows bunched with shock. “You—” Then he tilted his head to the side as he reread the message. Blue eyes flashed back to my face. “Wait. How did you know my name?”
This was where I was supposed to confess I was Sarah, the girl he’d been dishing his entire life story to online these past few days.
But for some reason, I just couldn’t do it yet, so I typed I’m psychic instead.
He blinked at the two words and those expressive eyebrows of his arched, disappearing up under his shaggy bangs. When he lifted his attention from my tablet to my face, I wrote, Or maybe it’s written on your shirt.
After reading the next line, he immediately checked out the front of his shirt.
I laughed, making him spear me with a surprised glance. So I finally gave in and wrote, Or maybe because I’m Sarah. Then I bit my lip and waited for the fallout.
But that explanation seemed to confuse him more than all the others.
“Huh?” he said, frowning.
I didn’t have to clarify, though. A moment later, his eyes widened. He zipped his gaze up to mine before scanning over my wheelchair.
“Holy shit,” he exploded just before an appalled expression lit his face as if he couldn’t believe he’d just said that in front of me. Guilt flooded his features as he returned his attention to my face right before he slapped his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he muffled out and then dropped his fingers to add, “I just...I had no idea.”
I almost acted stupid and asked what he had no idea about, but I felt a little too crushed to bother. My first chance to make a friend...ruined because I’d waited too long to tell him the truth.
Lowering my gaze to my laptop, I began to type out an apology, but the familiar voice of one of the school’s most notorious beautiful, mean girls said, “Hey, you’re new here, aren’t you?”
I looked up in time to see Chloe Hilliard twist a piece of her long, platinum blonde hair around her finger as she smiled at Brandt.
“Uh, yeah,” Brandt answered, transferring his alarmed gaze to Chloe before he looked at me and then back up at her again. “I’m Brandt.”
“Chloe,” she answered with a Cheshire cat smile before she extended her hand past me to shake with him.
She never once glanced down at me, completely ignoring the fact I was sitting right there and had been talking to him. Honestly, I don’t think she even realized I was there. Brandt glanced between the two of us before hesitantly reaching out to shake with her.
Glumly realizing my moment with him was over, I slid my attention downward to hide my disappointment. The screen of my laptop blared up at me, showing off everything I’d written.
I wanted to be mad at him for turning away from me, but after the friendship we’d formed over the last few days, I was mostly just sad it was over.
With a sigh, I began to type, needing something to do to distract myself from the depressing mortification roaring through me. I knew I should probably be used to getting ignored and set aside like this, since it happened so often, but it still had the power to completely humiliate me. I’d been so hopeful about connecting with Brandt.
Pissed at Chloe, I took it out on her, typing: Chloe Hilliard, biggest skank whore in the entire middle school. And now, friend thief.
My heart raced as I typed those words. Before befriending Brandt on Facebook, I never would’ve dared say something so mean. But after reading all his inner potty-mouthed thoughts, it seemed almost...liberating. And yep, as soon as the words showed up on the screen, I felt...freer. Better.
As Chloe asked Brandt what grade he was in, I rolled my eyes over how freaking phony she sounded.
Blah, blah, blah, I typed. BTW, she’s sticking her chest out like that because her boobs just came in, and she wants all the boys to look at them.
Above me, Brandt laughed.
I looked up just as Chloe asked him, “What’s so funny?” only to realize he’d been reading what I’d been typing.
Oh, crap.
Busted.
I slapped the computer closed so Chloe couldn’t see what I’d called her. My gaze went to Brandt, begging mercy.
Instead of ratting me out, however, he tightened his lips, lifted his eyebrows and sent Chloe the worst innocent expression ever.
“Uh...nothing. Sorry.” He scratched his ear and sent me a quick glance before flashing her a bogus smile. “What’d you say again??
??
She seemed momentarily uncertain before she blinked and repeated, “I, um, I just wanted to know if you’d like me to show you around, walk you to your first class, you know, stuff like that.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows lifted, but instead of thanking her and taking her up on her offer, his expression turned to a wince. “Sorry, but Sarah already agreed to do all that for me.”
“What?” Chloe asked, her smiling falling flat.
Yeah. What?
Both Chloe and I gaped at him as if he’d lost his mind. He eased a wary step back, looking at me, then back to Chloe, who’d just slapped her hands on her hips and glared.
“Sarah who?”
“Sarah...Arnosta,” he answered slowly, pointing me out.
Chloe finally looked down. Every instinct in me wanted to shy away, to lower my gaze, run and hide. But seriously...Brandt had just chosen me over her.
That felt powerful.
Instead of cowering, I lifted my chin. Victorious.
She sniffed her disgust and let out a little laugh, letting Brandt and I know she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Really?” she asked him dryly. “You want to hang out with the school freak?”
All the power and bravery I’d been feeling deflated like a popped balloon. My body twitched out of my control, making me feel even more like the freak she’d labeled me. I lowered my face to hide the tears pricking my eyes.
Brandt didn’t abandon me and leave with her, though. He said, “Actually, yeah. I’d much rather hang out with Sarah any day of the week than the school’s rudest skank whore who can’t seem to keep her tits out of my face. Now if you’ll excuse us...” He grasped my shoulder and turned my wheelchair, steering me down the hall away from Chloe. “We have class to get to.”
And right on cue, the first bell of the day rang.
I barely heard it, though. I was too busy gazing up at my new hero in awe as he kept moving us along with no idea where he was going.
He sent me a rueful grin and leaned in closer to admit, “I can’t stand bullies.”
My nostrils flared as I inhaled his woodsy scent. Then my head went woozy with joy as I stuttered, “I...I can’t either.”
His expression exploded into the most amazing grin ever. “Then we’ll get along just fine.” Lifting his gaze, he took in the students around us. “Where the fuck are we going, anyway?”
I laughed. Chloe Hilliard had just called me the school freak, yet I couldn’t seem to care. Brandt had chosen me over her.
Life was amazing.
“The other way completely,” I instructed, making him jerk my chair to an abrupt halt.
“Shit, sorry. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
As he wheeled me around to go back the way we’d just come, I could only smile. There was a lot I hadn’t told Brandt in that moment, like the fact I’d just fallen flat irreversibly in love with him.
BRANDT
AGE 14
Colton was having nightmares. About our mom.
It’d been almost a year to the day since Noel had arrived at our trailer house and moved us all to Illinois with him and his now-wife Aspen. Ergo, it’d almost been a year since we’d last seen Daisy. She hadn’t once tried to contact any of us in all that time.
So why in the ever-loving fuck was Colton still dreaming about her?
It worried me.
I mean, what if she’d done the same thing to him that she’d done to me? Just thinking about it made me want to hyperventilate with fear and see red with rage all at the same time. But seriously...not Colton. Not my innocent, nine-year-old baby brother. I would hunt the bitch down and snap her neck if she’d touched him.
Problem was, I didn’t know how to find out the truth without outing myself. The very last thing I ever wanted to happen was for anyone to find out what she’d done to me. I would rather die. I hadn’t even confided in Sarah about it, and I told her everything. It was just too...yeah, I didn’t even like thinking about it.
Blocking it out and forgetting it had ever happened was totally the best plan of action.
Except there was Colton.
Since I didn’t have the balls to just come right out and ask, Hey, did Mom molest you too? the guilt ate at me. Every time he woke up in the night, gasping for breath, I broke. I couldn’t deal with it, so I pushed him away whenever he tried to climb into bed with me, seeking solace. He was usually forced to go to Caroline’s room for comfort.
It still felt odd not sharing a bed with him any longer, or a room with Caroline, for that matter. But I had to admit, all the new space I had to myself was nice, especially on those nights when I woke drenched in sweat and shaking from my own nightmare. No one had any idea anything haunted me too because I didn’t want them to. I pretended my life was fine. Better than ever, because honestly, it was. I loved living here.
Noel and Aspen took care of all the shit I never should’ve had to deal with before. I was free to be a kid and live my life without worrying about anyone else. I could actually think about the future, and I started to believe I might actually get some of the things I wanted these days. I wasn’t about to let one little incident from my past mess with the awesomeness that was my existence now.
But if something had happened to Colton too, and he needed help, like professional help, could I actually confess my own demons to get him that help? I wasn’t sure. I was the only person on the planet who knew about me, and I wanted to keep it that way. Hell, not even Daisy remembered what she’d done, I don’t think. The next time I’d seen her after, she’d returned to ignoring me as if I didn’t exist.
Guilty and worried that I might be hurting my brother by doing nothing and remaining silent, I hurried into my room and shut myself inside alone, glad he wasn’t in here too. After slumping onto my bed, I pulled my laptop on my knees and slipped open the lid, automatically logging into the familiar private chat box before I realized what I was doing.
It had become a habit for me to seek out Sarah whenever I was distressed. She was my sounding board, my voice of reason, my everything. She knew how to make me smile when I was down, how to listen when I wanted to rant, and how to slap some sense into me when I was wrong. Remembering this was the one thing she couldn’t help me with since it was the one thing I’d never told her, I began to shut the laptop when I noticed she’d written a new message since the last time we’d chatted.
Immediately, a calm, cozy, yet giddy ball of warmth ignited in my chest. After all these months, a new message from her still struck me this way. Eager to read what she’d written, I opened the box, glad for the distraction from my own thoughts.
I just got back from speech therapy. Dr. Adler says I’m improving. YAY! So? How did Aspen take it?
For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. My mind was still on breakfast where Colton had confessed to Caroline that his nightmares were about our mom. But then my brain cleared, and I remembered how Sarah had sent me the link to an obituary earlier. A high school English teacher had passed away, and since Aspen had been looking for a teaching position—preferably English—for a year now, Sarah had thought there’d be an opening at the high school soon.
I was about to type back and tell her how excited my sister-in-law—whom I loved these days and no longer felt suspicious over—had been over the possibility of a new job when the first part of her message made me close the laptop and reach for my cell phone instead.
Yeah, I know. I had a cell phone now. My own bed, my own laptop, my own cell phone. My life was so much better than it’d been a year ago.
Keeping in mind how her therapist had told her she needed to practice speaking more and writing less, I dialed her number.
As soon as she answered, I grinned. “So can you say the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain?”
“Screw you.”
I laughed. “Close enough.”
“Have I mentioned how much I hate talking?” she lamented.
“Only all th
e time. Why do you think I called instead of texted?” When she told me I was the worst friend ever, I merely snorted. “Whatever. You love me.”
I would’ve told her how much she’d improved already, after only a few months of therapy, but she muttered a grumpy sound and asked if Aspen had seemed interested in the teaching position.
“Interested? She fucking screamed she was so excited. She literally jumped around the kitchen. And then she burst into tears because she felt so guilty about being happy about some dude dying.”
Sarah clapped. “Yay. Do you think she could get the job?”
I shrugged and picked at a smiley face sticker that Sarah had stuck on my laptop case months ago. At the time, I’d been put out that she’d vandalized my property, but now that it was mostly rubbed off, I kind of missed it. “If she doesn’t, Caroline and I are already planning on taking out another teacher so another job opening will pop up.”
“Oh my God, your family scares me.”
“Hey, as long as you never cross us, you need not be afraid.” She laughed as I affected my voice to sound like the Godfather.
A year ago, I wouldn’t have known how to do that. But Sarah was big into watching all kinds of movies, and so by now I’d beefed up on my cinema knowledge. A smile drifted across my face as I remembered all the different times I’d gone to her house to watch movies. I’d gotten closer to her than I’d ever been to anyone in my life. Sarah was my best friend, and I could tell her anything.
Which was probably why I blurted out, “I’m worried about Colton,” without meaning to.
But dammit! What the hell? Why had I just opened that can of worms?
And right on cue, Sarah asked, “What’s wrong with Colton?”
Yeah, what’s wrong with Colton, you dumbass? Try to talk your way out of this one.