Anywhere But Here (7 page)

“Can’t,” I said as a stab of guilt pierced my heart.  I knew I needed to try a little harder at the friend thing.  “I start my new job tonight.  But maybe we could hang out this weekend.”

He grinned.  “I’m booked solid this weekend.  My girlfriend will be here.”

“Girlfriend?” I asked with a crunched brow.

“Yeah, Sabrina.  She lives near
Chicago but her family owns a second home here.  They usually use it all summer but only every other weekend in the off-season.  She’ll be here this weekend.”

“Oh, cool,” I said.  I picked up my tray as an awkward pause lingered between us.  “Maybe I’ll go home and see the family this weekend.  My mom will probably expect it,” I lied.

“Oh?” he asked as he followed me toward the trash cans.  “Did you get kicked out of school there or something?”

After
I emptied my tray in the trash, I placed it on a rack.  “Something like that,” I said with a faint smile.  “I need to get to class.  I’ll talk to you later.”

As I took my seat in Creative Writing, I wondered what sort of mood Fin would be in when he got there.  Had I embarrassed him?  I hadn’t honestly wanted to do that but then he did push me a little too far.  And I wasn’t going to take that – not at all.

He didn’t show until seconds before the bell rang and he merely dropped into his seat without a word.  Mr. Ellis started class by collecting our papers, all the while talking about what we would work on that week.

“I don’t see enough feeling in your work,” he explained as he piled our papers on his desk.  “Too many times I see sentences such as ‘She felt bad’ or ‘He was mad’.  I’d like to see a little more expressiveness from you all.  This isn’t a basic English class, you know.  I expect better from you.”

Several eyes rolled as mouths groaned.  I remained neutral – frozen in my seat.  I agreed with the man, actually, but I didn’t convey my feelings.  I definitely didn’t want to be singled out.

After a long lecture on expres
sing one’s self while writing, Mr. Ellis gave us a short exercise to work on at our desks.  I thankfully started scribbling in my notebook, eager to have an excuse to not look at Fin.  I’d caught a glance or two during the lecture and it had ticked me off.  Why couldn’t he leave me alone?  Why did I have to look at him back?

And why did
this stupid nonsense bother me so much?

When the bell rang, I stood and turned my back to him, hoping he’d get the hint that I didn’t want to talk.  I gathered my things and bolted out of the class, hurrying so fast that I was the first one to Study Hall.

Gina and her friends entered a full two minutes before the bell – surprisingly.  Not so surprisingly, she sauntered to my desk and planted her palms on the flat surface.

“Fin doesn’t like you, you know,” she said. 

“Good,” I said. “Maybe he’ll leave me alone and quit talking to me.”

Her eyes grew as she straightened.  “He only talks to you because he feels sorry for you.”

“Well, I don’t need his sympathy or his conversation.”

“You should tell
him,” she said, her tone suddenly sugar-sweet.  “Then he’ll leave you alone.”

“I have,” I said as I withdrew my Spanish notebook from my bag.  “It’s like talking to the stupid ice he adores so much.”  I had to grin at my own joke.

Gina didn’t find it amusing, though.  “Try harder.”

“Look,” I said, standing to face her.  I was not about to be bullied.  “If you like the guy so much, then just tell him.  Ask him out.  This isn’t the Dark Ages.”

“I don’t ask boys out,” she announced, haughtily tossing her hair over her shoulders.  “They ask me out.”

“Not all of them, obviously,” I said.  “Fin doesn’t.”

Her pretty eyes narrowed as her face cooled.  “But he will.”

Spinning on her heel, she
headed to her desk as the bell rang.  I shook my head as I slipped into my seat.  I worked on my Spanish homework the entire hour as Gina and her friends gasped, sighed, and giggled a few feet away from me.  It wasn’t quite so easy to ignore them but I managed.

When the school day ended, I headed straight for Merl’s Gas Station and Convenience Store located on the corner of the main street.  Merl was in his late seventies but still fairly active.  The teenager he’d hired before me up and quit when a position opened up at the Community Center.  At least, that’s what Merl said.

“We’re open ‘till nine during the week and eleven on the weekends. You’ll work Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights, 3:30 ‘till 9:30.  I got regular employees to take the other shifts,” he explained. 

He
gave me a tour of the little store, explained how to turn the pumps off and on, and how to work the register. Then, two hours later, he left me alone.  Completely.  Panicking only slightly, I didn’t think there was much I could screw up.  Well, except possibly blowing up the gas pumps.  But I wasn’t a complete moron.

A steady stream of customers kept me pretty busy until the clock reached seven, then things slowed down considerably.  I’d only had a couple of minor mishaps in which I’d had to void entire orders and re-ring them.  I scribbled hasty notes to Merl, explaining what happened, and hoped he could straighten it out in the morning.  I wasn’t supposed to count out my own till after my shift but lock it in the smaller safe in the back office.  Merl would take care of the ‘countin’ of the money’ in the morning.  I just had to make sure everything was straightened up, all the lights were out
, and the doors were locked.

Around 8:30, as I was eyeing the clock, the
little bell above the door tinkled.  I turned from the shelves I’d been straightening to greet the customer when I recognized the mop of curly dark hair.  I stifled a groan and shuffled behind the counter.

“I thought Coach was going to kill us tonight,” I heard him complain as he and his companion considered their choices in sports drinks.

“I don’t know what his problem was,” Fin’s companion replied.  “We played well Saturday and we won.”

I heard the cooler doors shut and braced myself for a confrontation.  “He’s just obsessed,” Fin answered.  He dropped his drink on the counter and gaped at me.  “Well, well, well, look who it is.”

“Who is it?” Fin’s companion asked.

Fin grinned at me and my stomach fluttered.  “This is Rena Hamilton.  She lives with her aunt in Mathilda Mathias’s old place.”

“Oh, hey,” the other guy said with a smile.  He was quite good looking with sandy brown hair and warm brown eyes.  His teeth seemed brighter than Fin’s and his features sharper, more defined.  I wondered why Gina didn’t run after him.  “I’m Isaiah Carter.” 

He extended his hand and I shook it, straining my memory until I recalled where I’d heard the name.  From the hockey game –
he was the one Damon had said graduated last year but hadn’t received a hockey scholarship.  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

Fin glared at me as he dug a five dollar bill out of his pocket.  “How come he gets the nice, polite Rena and I get the angry rude one?”

“Just lucky I guess,” I snapped as I rang up their drinks.  I snatched the five from his hand before slamming his change on the counter.  “Have a wonderful evening.”

“Damn, Fin,” Isaiah said as he picked up their drinks and headed for the door.  “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Fin said in a low voice, his shoulders hunched.  “Absolutely nothing.”

I deflated, guilt eating the air around me.  He was right and I was horrid.  I’d apologize to him the next day and try to be a little friendlier – without encouraging him.

I chatted briefly with Aunt Franki when I got home, describing my dull job to her in enough detail to make Mr. Ellis cry with joy.  I didn’t mention Fin, though, but I didn’t know why.

When I escaped to my bedroom, I
turned on the laptop.  I browsed the Internet lackadaisically, looking for nothing in particular, but not tired enough for bed.  Out of sheer boredom, I typed ‘hockey rules’ into the search engine and started reading once I found a link.  But as the rules became a bit too technical, I looked up Dunewood’s hockey team instead.

Hm, the Dunewood Coyotes
, I thought as the page loaded.  “That’s what that dog thing was,” I mused.

Clicking around, I explored the page, until I found the recent roster.  All the names were listed and, not able to help myself, I clicked on Fin’s.  A picture of him popped up on my screen.  He was dressed in his jersey, a casual smile on his face.  He was cute with his dark curls and green eyes, but not the hottest guy I’d ever seen.

I hit the ‘back’ button,
found Isaiah’s name, and clicked that link.  His handsome face filled my screen and I couldn’t help but admire his sharp, chiseled face and thick bangs falling carelessly on his forehead.  Now he was probably one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen – no argument there.

But as I stared in his warm, inviting eyes, I thought of Fin.  I groaned as my insolent finger clicked and clicked until Fin’s face was once again covering my monitor.  I lied to myself, saying I had to keep looking at him so I could steel my heart against him and not cave to his
charm.  I didn’t dare get involved in any sort of romance.  It always started out so innocently – you date the handsome, popular guy and then he introduces you to his friends.  Pretty soon, his crowd accepts you and calls you and asks you to hang out.  Before you know it, you’re meeting up with them at the mall or the movies and you forget that you do have a family.

No, I couldn’t get wrapped up in that kind of life again.  I quickly closed out the hockey page and shut down the laptop. 
Closing it, I placed it carefully on the desk and finished the math problems I hadn’t had time to complete during class. 

When I finally crawled into bed an hour later, Fin’s smiling face filled my mind.  All I could see was him racing after the puck, his skates slicing through the ice, in his quest to score.  The dark curls peeking under his helmet were damp with sweat but he showed no signs of tiring.

Then he caught up to the puck and slapped it hard, sending it sailing past other players until it bounced off the back of the net and landed with a spin on the ice.

I drifted deeper and deeper into slumber a
s Fin’s teammates congratulated him.  He clapped the others on the back but his eyes – bright and shining – landed on mine.  And my lonely, aching heart filled with something that kept me warm for the rest of the night.

Swallowing
my pride the next day, I found Fin before I entered the cafeteria.  He was loitering around Grant’s locker, talking about some hockey game, and didn’t notice as I approached.  I nearly lost my nerve but managed to hang on to it as I shifted from foot to foot, clearing my throat.

Both guys turned, eyes wide and mouths open.
Grant was the first to recover, offering me a smile while Fin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  A shiver shimmied up my spine as I stiffened and drew a breath of courage.

“Um, Fin, do you think I could talk to you for a second?”

Grant slammed his locker, smacked Fin on the back, and shot me a wink.  “I’ll save you a seat, man.”

Fin nodded though his eyes never left my face.  Once Grant was out of earshot, I leaned against his locker for support.

“What do you want?” he asked.  “Here to rip into me again?”

My
rising ire woke the snoozing anger-demon but I held it back, determined to make amends.  “No.  Actually, I came to say that you were right.”

His face changed as a
twinge of amusement colored his eyes.  “I usually am but about what this time?”

I ignored his arrogance and gulped some oxygen.  “About what you said last night – you know, when you said you never did anything to me.  To deserve my rudeness.”

His features softened as he rested against a locker looking more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him.  “Oh?”

“Yes,” I said, anxious to say what was on my mind and get on with
my life.  “And I owe you an apology.  I’m sorry for being rude.  You didn’t deserve it.”

A slow smile seeped across his face as he actually reached out and chucked me under the chin like an old uncle would do to a child.  “I accept.  Now, can I buy you lunch?”

Flabbergasted, I gaped at him, shuffling my thoughts into a neat pile.  “Um, actually, I’m supposed to meet Damon.”

“Hm,” he said with a thoughtful frown.  “I thought Damon was seeing some girl from
Chicago?”

Heat flooded my cheeks as I pushed away from the locker and backed up a step.  “No, not like that.  Damon is just my friend.”

“I thought you said you didn’t need any friends?”

Groaning, I
pinched the bridge of my nose.  “Why do you have to be this way, huh?” I whined.  “I’m trying to apologize and you’re throwing my words back into my face.”

He held up his hands as he, too, moved away from the lockers, stepping toward me instead of moving backwards.  “Okay, you’re right.  My apologies.  Shall we start over?”

My anger-demon was reaching the end of its rope and I inhaled deeply in an effort to calm it.  “Okay, I apologize for being rude and you just accepted.  The end.”