A Time to Die (5 page)

Once Christy had gone, Kara sat in bed with her drawing pad, unable to put Eric out of her mind. Christy had said he had problems. Kara should have asked for details. What problems could a sixteen-year-old as good-looking as Eric Lawrence possibly have? She gave a mirthless laugh. “He’ll never get close enough for me to know.”

She sketched randomly until her room grew deep with shadows. She didn’t like any of her artwork, and in exasperation, she tossed the pad
aside. The doorbell rang, startling her. She shimmied off the bed, and when she opened the door, she was greeted by Vince Chapman. “Hi, beautiful,” he said, flipping the ends of her hair with his fingers.

“V
INCE!”
K
ARA SQUEALED
, throwing her arms around his neck. “When did they cut you loose?”

“This afternoon,” he said with a laugh. “I went home, but then headed right over here.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

She unwrapped her arms from his neck and dragged him inside. “You should have said something.”

“And missed out on this greeting? No way.” He followed her into her living room. “Did your folks forget to pay their electric bill?”

Kara realized that she’d not turned on any lights and flipped on switches. “Dad’s flying an overnighter, and Mom had some big agency planning meeting. I hadn’t realized it was so late.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I forgot to.” Kara chewed on her lip. “Mom’ll kill me. She made up this tray of food I was supposed to pop into the microwave for my dinner.”

“Still no appetite?”

“Not a bit,” Kara admitted, although she now wondered how much of its loss was due to Eric’s lack of interest.

“I’m having trouble getting mine back, too,” Vince admitted. “Maybe between us we can polish off that stuff your mother fixed.”

“It’s a deal.” Kara led Vince into the kitchen and parked him at the counter while she found the tray in the fridge. As it warmed in the microwave, she set plates and silver on the counter. Vince sat on a stool, observing. “So, when will you be back at school?” she asked.

“Monday. I’ve been keeping up with the assignments, but socially, I’ll be my usual outcast self. How’s it going between you and Christy’s brother?”

Vince’s question sounded casual, but Kara knew she sounded curt when she answered. “First Elyse, now you. For heaven’s sake, I barely know the guy. What’s all this interest in my nonrelationship with Eric?”

“I’m interested in everything you’re interested in,” Vince said. His dark eyes regarded her expectantly. “Old habit, I guess. I’ve never had that many friends.”

Kara felt bad about snapping at him. “Okay, so we’ve never been part of the in crowd. But that
doesn’t mean we can’t keep trying to expand our circle.”

“This is my senior year. If I haven’t expanded my circle by now, I doubt I will.”

“Will you graduate in June?”

“Too soon to tell. I hope so, but I’m behind in everything.”

“If you do, then what?”

“Community college. And a job. If I can hold one. I wish I could plan for something more exciting.”

She understood—plans for the future hinged on staying well.

His gaze lingered on her face. “I’ve got to get through Christmas first.”

Haven’t we both
, she thought, but didn’t say it. The microwave beeped, and Kara removed the tray and divided the food.

“Smells good,” Vince said, reaching into his pocket for his enzyme medication.

Kara swallowed her pills also. “Mom’s a good cook. What a shame it’s wasted on me.” He ate and declared it delicious. “The student council’s sponsoring a carnival for Halloween,” she mentioned between bites. “There’ll be booths, a flea market, and a haunted house. They’re busing in some inner-city kids.”

“Sort of like the white suburbs does its conscience bit for the community?”

“Don’t be sarcastic. It’ll be fun.”

“What’ll you be doing for the cause?”

“I’m in the face painting booth.”

“Will you paint my face?”

“Sure … for three dollars.”

“I thought you said this was for poor kids.”

She giggled at his attempt to sound miserly. “It’s only free to kids under age ten. Big people have to pay.”

“Maybe I can get back into the swing of things at school if I volunteer to do something,” Vince said thoughtfully. “You say there’ll be a haunted house?”

“That’s right. I volunteered to work on the planning committee, and I could get you into it. What would you like to do?”

“I could come as Count Dracula, since I look sort of ghoulish.”

“You look fine, but if you want to be the count, I’ll do your makeup,” she offered.

“A deal I can’t refuse. Of course, I couldn’t refuse anything you offered me.”

She smiled. “You’re a good friend, Vince. I’m glad we have each other.”

He looked at her across the table, and his expression grew serious. “Me, too. I’ve felt that way for years, you know—glad that you were in my life.”

She was at a momentary loss for words. She liked Vince. He was a part of her life. But even now, looking straight at him, she felt the image of Eric nudge into her brain. “All right then. Let me set you up with the kids doing the haunted house,” Kara said quickly, returning to their
former topic of conversation. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you on their team.”

He rose from the stool, gave an elaborate bow, and kissed the back of her hand. “The count must leave you now, my dear.” He mimicked the accent of Hollywood’s best vampires.

She walked him to the door and watched him drive off into the night. Life was full of tricks. Vince was the original Mr. Nice Guy, and she really valued their relationship. But Eric—Eric was tall, muscled, witty, handsome. He was the one she longed to be with. He was the one she wanted, but he didn’t seem to want her.

    Eric was lying on his bed, skimming the text of a Shakespearean play, his headphones clamped to his head, the sound of music blaring against his eardrums. He was startled to glance up and see his sister standing at the foot of his bed. He tugged off the headset and poked the switch on his cassette player. “Hey, sis. What’s up? I didn’t hear you knock.”

“We need to talk.”

Christy wasn’t smiling, and Eric knew immediately that she was about to launch into a lecture. He sighed, sat upright. “So, talk.”

“Did you skip school last week?” He avoided her direct gaze. “Don’t lie to me, Eric.”

“Is that what you think I’m going to do? Lie about it?” Anger edged his voice.

“I know you cut your afternoon classes,” she
said without answering his question. “I want to know why.”

He pressed his lips together tightly. “No reason. Sorry.”

“Eric, you promised that if I let you come live with me, you’d abide by my terms—which weren’t unreasonable. And the terms were
no
cutting classes. School’s important. I only wish I were still in school. Anyway, skipping out during classes isn’t acceptable.”

“No wild partying. No breaking curfew. No running with the wrong crowd,” he added in a singsong as he stood up. “I remember all the rules. There’re too many rules.”

Christy snapped, “You agreed to them.”

“I know.” Silence fell between them, and Eric rocked back on his heels.

“Why do you do it?” Christy asked. “Why do you purposely go out of your way to get in trouble?”

“You sound like our parents.” His tone was sarcastic.

“Mom and Dad are good parents. They help us as best they can. I know they want a good life for you.”

At that, Eric shoved clenched hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I know what they want. Why doesn’t anybody bother with what I want?”

“Maybe you could be more specific. What do you want?”

“I guess I want to be my own person.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me. What do
you want to do with your life? Life’s not just fun and games, you know.”

He threw up his hands in frustration. “I don’t know what I want to
be
. I only know I don’t want what Dad wants for me. I don’t want to take over his stupid hardware store. I don’t want to be the dutiful son, smiling at all his customers, making small talk with ‘good old boys’ and sorting through bins of bolts for just the right one to fix some guy’s dumb lawn mower.”

“Do you want to go to college?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re smart enough.”

“I’m not nuts about hitting the books, and I wouldn’t know what to study if I went.”

“You like your car. If you study hard, maybe you can be an engineer or even a car designer.”

“Yes, I like my car. I like tinkering under the hood and making the engine purr. I like to take cars apart and put them back together again.”

“You
feel
things deeply,” Christy insisted. “You need to deal with your feelings and set some goals.”

He averted his eyes. He didn’t like people knowing that much about him, even his sister. Eric hated feeling vulnerable. It seemed to be a sign of weakness. It was easy for him to deal with machines. Machines had no feelings and no expectations. “I’m sorry I skipped school,” he said dully. “I won’t do it again.”

Christy came a few steps closer. “Eric, I remember what it was like to be sixteen. The ups and
downs of it. All I can tell you is that you’ll live through it.” He hated her sermon, but kept his thoughts to himself. “Life isn’t perfect, and we all have disappointments. You’re my brother, and I understand that you might not be able to fit into Dad’s mold. We all want what’s best for you. We may not know what that is, but then, neither do you.”

“I get your point,” he replied.

Christy looked him in the eye. “Eric, we’re all trying to help you. My job is demanding and full of stress. My responsibilities to my patients are a priority. I can’t be worried about them and you, too. They can’t help their condition. You can. Something must remain constant in my life if I’m going to help all the people who count on me.”

Like Kara Fischer
, he thought, shocked by the instant, vivid picture of her that rose in his mind. “I said I get the point.”

“Eric, I love you, but I can’t have a wild hare on my hands. Please keep your promises to me about house and school rules. Don’t blow it again, or I’ll send you straight back to Houston. And until you’re eighteen, that’s where you’ll have to stay.”

He met the challenge in her eyes. He knew she wasn’t bluffing. He didn’t want to go back, but at that moment he didn’t want to stay, either. He felt as if he had no choices. Go back and face conforming to his father’s image. Stay and drown in Christy’s rules. Eric nodded slowly. “I won’t let you down again. I’ll be on my best behavior for the rest of the school year.”

“I’ll take you at your word,” she said, then left the room.

He stared at the doorway for a long time, his insides a jumble. He would make it through the school year. But come summer, he would pack up and leave. And not for Houston, either. Come summer, he would hit the road, and none of his family would have to see his face, or hassle him, ever again.

E
RIC NOTICED A
tall, extremely thin guy with dark hair weave his way between the rows of desks of the English class. The boy greeted kids who seemed to know him.

“Hey, Vince,” Eric heard Sheila say as he passed by her desk.

“Hey, yourself,” Vince answered, and when he smiled, Eric saw white, straight teeth, and decided that some girls might think the guy good-looking.

“Who’s he?” Eric whispered to Sheila after Vince had taken a seat in the back of the room.

She wrote “Vince Chapman” on a piece of notebook paper and shoved it toward Eric. The name meant nothing to Eric. Still, he wondered why Vince was starting classes so late in the term. Before he could find out more from Sheila, the
teacher broke the class into groups to work on performing a scene from a Shakespearean play. Eric found himself in a group of six with Vince.

Howie was talking to Vince, and Eric pretended he wasn’t listening in on them. “I thought you were a senior, Vince. How’d you’d get stuck back here with us junior lowlifes?”

“I had to take double English credits,” Vince explained, “since I missed too many classes last year.”