Between These Lines (A Young Adult Novel) (7 page)

“I’ll
take you.” There was no question about it.

Her
soft eyes stared at me from across the table. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.
Besides, I really don’t mind. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“No
way, I insist. Besides, it’ll be late by the time we get out of here.”

A
smile tugged at her lips, and before long, she nodded in agreement and we got
down to business, paging through the chapbooks and taking turns on the Internet
to get our timeline underway. By eight-thirty I lugged my backpack, twelve
pages of completed and printed material for our project, and three novels Evie
convinced me to check out, across the parking lot. I pressed the unlock button
on my keypad and managed to open the door for her, my eyes still wide at the
fact that Evie Cunningham had not only met me at the library, but was also
about to let me drive her home.

We
had been driving for all of five minutes. “You’re probably wondering why I
don’t have a car, huh?”

“Well
. . . not really. But now that you brought it up.”

We
passed the Wawa and Wegman’s food store on Route 5. I looked over at her
delicate face illuminated by the glow of the streetlights. Evie was the most
beautiful girl I’d ever known.

“I
figured you might wonder—since we can afford to go to a pretty expensive
school and all.”

“There
are a lot of kids who go to Whitley who don’t have their own cars,” I smiled
through the windshield. “I only have one because my Aunt Claudie hates to drive
at night. Scratch that.

She
hates driving during the day too, but only if it’s raining or snowing. But
normally, I walk to school.”

Evie
looked at me a bit confused.

“Things
like cars don’t matter. They don’t
make
who you are.”

She
was so different tonight compared to the chattier version of herself in the
dining hall at school, when she had been driven to pull me out of my quiet
shell. Now she was the quiet one, apologizing for things that didn’t
matter—apologizing for not having an abundance of Sylvia Plath books, for
the phone call from her dad. Now she was apologizing for not having her own
car. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her chew her lower lip. Her hands
fidgeted, worrying away at the lining of her jacket. “No, I didn’t mean to make
you feel . . .”

She
turned her head to me, her eyes shone in the dim light as we drove down the
street. “It’s fine,” she reassured. “That’s really nice that you help out with
your aunt.”

I
swallowed hard. She didn’t know.

“It’s
kind of more than that. I live with her.”

I
never expected Evie’s silence to evoke such feeling inside me. It was as if
there was a bubble, swelling to burst, and I could no longer contain it.

“My
parents had an accident a few years back. My Aunt Claudie’s taken care of me
ever since.”

I
didn’t need to spell it out for her, to tell her they were dead. Her hand
reached out and pressed its warm weight over mine.

“Chase.
I’m so sorry.” And the catch in her voice nearly did me in.

I
bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, as if inflicting a new pain would stop
the old one from coming back. I wasn’t prepared for her reaction. I never saw
it coming, and sure enough, I wasn’t prepared for what her reaction would do to
me.

“I
never knew the whole story,” she whispered.

“Yeah.
Well, most people at school don’t.” It was one thing to know others thought I
was strange, or a freak, but I needed Evie to know they only felt that way
because I let them. I had no desire to fit in, and somehow, to everyone else,
that was wrong.

“How
old were you?”

“Eleven,”
I whispered, astonished at the hoarseness of my own voice. The truth, the
reality, had been buried so far inside me that over time it had become harder
to bring it forth on my own. But telling Evie the slightest bit of my past was
like opening a floodgate. It all rushed back.

The
car loped down the street, bringing us closer to her house. It was a typical
rich neighborhood with typical rich homes; big lawns and big mailboxes, and an
air of money surrounding them. Her house was shrouded in darkness as we pulled
up along the curb in front. It was obvious her parents weren’t home yet.

Swiveling
in her seat, Evie faced me in the dark. My heart thumped loudly in my chest. I
could see her wanting to give the obvious
thanks for the ride,
but I
could detect a little more, as if the two hours we’d spent in the library
comparing poems and books, collaborating on the paper, happened days ago
instead of an hour. Now, a conversation neither of us expected tonight had
surfaced, bringing with it a veil of awkwardness and closeness.

“Thanks
for driving me home.”

 
The word
anytime
was on the tip of
my tongue, but I felt too anxious to speak. The urge to kiss her goodnight was
overwhelming. I peered over her shoulder as she fumbled for her keys. Black
windows stared back at me and in an instant I was out of the car and opening
the door for her.

“No
one’s home yet?” I asked, eyeing the dark driveway that curved its way behind
the house.

“They
both work late.”

Evie’s
shoulders shrugged with the excuse, but her voice implied something else. Resentment?
Indifference?
 
I was beginning to
hone in on the tiny fact that Evie spent a lot of time fending for herself. I
followed her past the inviting front walk to the side of the house that met the
driveway – the side that was blacker than the windows. I was seconds from
giving in to the urge in the pit of my stomach, the one that begged me to take
her hand in mine as we continued down the drive to the back of the house. My
fingers itched to creep around hers, but I ignored the feeling, and shoved my
hands firmly inside the pockets of my jacket. Instead, I was inched closer to
the arm she swung by her side when suddenly, our elongated shadows flashed
across the blacktop in front of us. Evie swirled around and the hand I had
wanted to grasp fluttered up to her chest as if containing the stunned
heartbeat behind it.

“Who
is that?” I asked stepping forward, closer to her, and I raised my hand to my
eyes, shielding them from the bright light in front of us. A car door opened
and the sound of footsteps on the driveway followed, revealing nothing more
than a tall figure with dark, outstretched arms and a featureless face.

“What
do we have here?” A familiar voiced broke the stillness.

That
anxious feeling I had felt moments ago became leaden and sank straight down to
my feet. I knew who it was before she had a chance to let the whisper escape
her lips. I knew without a doubt, but she whispered it anyway.

“Shane.”

Chapter Ten

Evie

“Well,
well, well,” Shane’s voice bounded as the searing light from the car’s
headlamps created an eerie silhouette of his form. I hadn’t heard his car pull
up behind us and nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of him showing up in
my driveway.

“What
are you doing here?” The second the words blurted from my mouth, I realized how
paranoid I sounded. My hands trembled at my sides and I quickly crossed my arms
over my chest. Shane’s unexpected appearance in my driveway did more than startle
me, it honest to goodness freaked me out. My head was so full of what Chase had
just told me in the car—his parents, the accident—it left little
room for anything else. It was all so horrible. All of a sudden the pieces of a
strange puzzle slid together—why he was so introverted, why he never
sought the company of friends or groups at school, and hid from all the
unexplainable atrocities the world brought when one least expected it.

And
right now I wanted nothing more than to be back inside his car, learning more
about what made his life such a secret—and to help him work it through.

Shane
knew Chase and I were working on a project together. I hadn’t lied about that.
But I shivered when I thought about what Tara could have told him—that
was the only reason he showed up here tonight. I knew how his mind worked. He
wanted to see if I would only give

Chase
the time of day during school. He was testing me.

Fine. Test me then,
and I lifted
my
chin a little higher.

“Your
dad called my cell phone, worried you might need a ride home from the library,
but I see you’ve found one.” His eyes veered toward Chase, and sized him up. I
wasn’t sure what he could make out in the dark, but it was an effort to make
Chase feel inferior to him, that was certain.

“I
didn’t even know my dad had your number.”

“No,
you didn’t. I made sure he had it. You know, just in case.”

My
skin prickled. It was typical Shane Whitley, to hold something over someone,
even if that someone was supposed to be his girlfriend. I felt the pangs of
betrayal and confusion, that my dad would be connected to Shane without my
knowledge. My parents weren’t around much, but if I had to choose which one I
felt closer to, it would definitely be my dad. He worked hard for us. He loved
us, even when my mom didn’t return it, or seem to deserve it.

“I
was just seeing her home,” Chase stepped forward.

My
eyes slowly adjusted to the night around us, making it easier to see the rigid
stance each boy held.

Shane
came closer, “I can take it from here.” Was he challenging Chase? Vying for
what he believed to be his?

Was
I his?

I
took a second to take a good look at Shane. Even in the dark he appeared
strong, authoritative. It was attractive to me once. Was it still? I let the
question stew inside me as I looked back at Chase, who remained firm by my side.
I knew if I addressed this question right now, so much could be at
stake—so much had the potential to change.

Chase
glanced over. I could almost see the question in his eyes. Would I be alright?
I gave the slightest of nods. Though practically imperceptible, it seemed to
satisfy him.

“I’ll
finish the timeline,” I offered, feeling the weight of the borrowed books in
the bag hanging from my shoulder. “Thanks for the ride home.”

I
watched as he stepped hesitantly past the glow of the Aston’s headlights, to where
his own car was parked at the curb, and then, he was gone. His car door closed.
The engine started.

And
the sound of him driving away shattered me.

There
was a tug on the strap of my bag as Shane pulled me toward the house. It
snapped me back into reality. My keys jingled in my hand as I felt for the
right one that would unlock the back door to the kitchen and, suddenly, I felt
uneasy to be alone with him.

“My
parents will be home any minute, so . . . thanks for making sure I got in.” I
hinted heavily that he could leave, but it was more like mentally dismissing
him.
Job’s done Shane. Go. Shoo.
But instead of leaving me at the
doorstep, he followed closely, slipped the bag from my arm and placed it inside
the doorjamb before flipping the light switch on for me.

“Your
dad said he would be late.”

“Yeah
well,” I bit my lip. “My mom promised to be home by nine.” From this angle,
half in and half out of the kitchen, I couldn’t quite see the clock hanging on
the wall near the refrigerator.

Shane
tilted his wrist for a better view of his watch. The slim slice of light that
stretched onto the porch floor gave him just the right amount, but in that
light he looked different. Not quite himself. I dismissed it. He was upset at
my night out with Chase. He was mad, and I was paranoid. “It’s nine-ten and
your dad said she texted him saying she’d be late too.”

I
was angry that Shane had more information of my parents’ whereabouts than I
did, and I turned and stomped inside, throwing my bag of books onto the
counter, paying no mind that they weren’t mine and could seriously be bent now.
Another tiny, disturbing fact seeped into my head, and it was something I
couldn’t ignore. There was no way two people could discuss wallpaper samples
for seven hours straight.

Shane
leaned against the open door, letting the night air flood the house, but I
didn’t care. I could still hear my mom’s laughter from the living room when I
came home this afternoon, and felt my insides tighten.

He
came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled his face into
the back of my neck.

“Shane,
come on.” But he must have mistaken my sighs for needing him and I pushed him
off gently, careful not to let him think too hard about my reluctance, and get
mad. That would be a huge mistake. I’ve seen Shane’s fits and they weren’t
pretty.

I
wasn’t in the mood for Shane’s company tonight and was walking on eggshells
with all my thoughts at this point. I felt bitter that he scared Chase away
when Chase was only being sweet and chivalrous and honest with me. I was mad at
my parents for leaving me for hours on end and for always assuming I was in
safe hands with Shane whenever they weren’t around for me to count on them. And
why? Because he went to a fancy school and had money? I was mad at Shane for assuming
he was welcome in my house any time, that he could put his hands all over me
whenever he wanted. It was a huge list that suddenly took me by surprise, but
also put everything important into perspective. Something I hadn’t stopped to
take a good, hard look at before.