Heart's Reflection (14 page)

Tendrils of hair
had escaped my ponytail, and not in an attractive, casual way but in a
"I've been through a storm" way. But while I could redo the ponytail
and trap all the pesky escapee hairs again, I couldn't do much else about my
looks.

I was desperate to
splash water on my face, but had to be satisfied with just wetting a paper
towel and placing it on my neck. Anything else would wipe out what little
semblance of make-up I had left and my face was enough of a disaster without
that. Unfortunately, I hadn't thought to retrieve my purse and so had no access
to even a lipstick.

Perhaps I could
slip out of the restroom, get past Holden, pop into the gym, get my purse, evade
Holden again, and escape back here to fix my face. It must be close to my
curfew—which Dad would be furious if I missed particularly because of the
SATs tomorrow—but I wanted to look half decent to say goodnight to the
cute Viking.

Pushing the
swinging restroom door to crack it open, I peeked around the edge. No Holden in
sight. In fact, no one was in sight. The music from the dance still played,
echoing faintly in the empty hall as I slipped out and tiptoed toward it, all
the while keeping watch for my Viking. But though I'd taken a couple of turns,
I didn't see him. He must have gone back to the gym. My purse—and my
make-up—were almost within reach.

Up ahead was the
intersection with the main corridor, which would take me the final dozen feet
to my destination. At the intersection, a right turn would take me to the gym,
but to the left I heard Holden's voice, his words indistinct. Then a female
voice murmured.

Since I didn't see
them, I concluded Holden must be talking to someone just beyond the elbow of
the next corridor
. But who?
I
wondered.
Some other girl? Was he giving
her the same line about how they'd known each other before?

My curiosity got
the better of me and I turned left, sneaked my way to the next hall
intersection. Peering around the corner, I positioned myself to eavesdrop. Just
beyond, I saw Holden, his back to me, talking to Mrs. Gazardi. The way they
stood with heads together struck me as conspiratorial.

"If it's to
happen, I should take Eve with me right now."

"Not
yet," Holden said. "I haven't had a chance to convince her."

"You've had
all evening."

"It's not
easy."

"The window
of opportunity isn't that wide." Mrs. Gazardi hesitated before continuing.
"Don't let your emotions get in the way. Do what you came here to
do."

Holden examined
the tips of his tennis shoes for long seconds before nodding. "Okay. But I
just need a little more time. Just until tomorrow morning."

"9:18 a.m. at
the latest. Your three days is up then."

"Yeah. Just
stay outta the way, would you? Remember. You allowed her to see me."

"So?"
Mrs. Gazardi said with an edge of sarcasm to the word.

"So that
means she can see you too. The
real
you."

"All right,
I'll be out of sight until tomorrow. But then I'm coming for her whether or not
you accomplish your mission."

Reeling back, I
gasped. My breath was like shards of glass cutting as it passed in and out of
my lungs.

Mrs. Gazardi's
head jerked up. The internal glow stick returned with a vengeance and when she
grimaced the teeth behind her lips gleamed appearing like a sharks' in her
head.

Holden spun
around, eyes widening. He went slack-jawed for a moment before he held up a
hand as if surrendering.

For long seconds
it seemed all three of us were frozen. Recovering first, I bolted down the main
corridor, away from the gym. I ran for the front of the school.

"Eve. It's
not what you think," Holden shouted from behind me.

Slamming into the
push mechanism on the front door, I plowed through and out into the cool night
air. The grass was slippery under my feet, so I changed course to the sidewalk.
Holden caught up with me before I made it off school grounds, grabbing me
around the waist and swinging me off my feet.

"Aghhh,"
I screamed, struggling against his hold. "Put me down."

"You could
hurt yourself," he said.

My elbow made impact
on his midsection.

"You were
running blindly," he said. "You could get killed, not looking where
you're going."

I continued
wriggling and kicking, but his arms remained locked around me without sign of
faltering.

"If I let you
go will you agree not to run off into the street?"

After a few more
seconds of fruitless thrashing, I nodded. His arms unlocked.

With feet firmly
back on the sidewalk and a pout firmly set in my mouth, I proceeded at a march
in the direction of my house a few blocks away. Holden followed a couple of
paces behind.

My ballet slippers
slamming against the pavement with me stiff-legging it along was, I'm sure, a
ridiculous sight. It felt ridiculous. Besides, stomping like that hurt too, as
the edges of the shells in the tabby cement mixture pressed into the slim sole
of my shoe.

Looking over my
shoulder, I observed Holden trudging along, eyes downcast to the pavement, his
mouth in a morose frown.

We reached the end
of my block. The front door of my house loomed as an escape route a few yards
away but I couldn't help stopping. Turning to Holden, I stared at him until his
gaze rose to meet mine.

"Are you
supposed to hurt me or something?" I demanded.

He flinched.
"No, of course not."

"How am I
supposed to believe you?"

He shrugged,
shaking his head. "If I wanted to hurt you I could have easily pushed you
off the roof earlier tonight. I had at least two chances."

That was true.

"But when you
were talking to Mrs. Gazardi. What was that about?" My accusation was
sharp. I couldn't afford to weaken my guard just because I wanted to melt into
a puddle of warm chocolate every time I looked at Holden. His cuteness was
dangerous. "Are you helping her take me somewhere?"

"If Gazadriel
was determined to take you, she doesn't need my help," he muttered.

"What does
that mean!" I shouted, throwing up my hands "All you do is talk in
riddles."

"I'm doing my
best," he shouted back, his anger was the first I'd seen from Holden this
evening. Before, I could get in another word, his whole face scrunched in misery.
"I don't know how to do this," he choked out.

"Do
what?" I asked in a whisper. Taking a step closer to him, I placed a hand
on his arm. "I don't understand anything. I don't know what to believe
about you."

"If you don't
believe anything else..." Holden lifted a hand to place his palm against
my face. His thumb traced the line of my cheekbone. His sincere eyes bored into
mine—I couldn't look away. "Believe I wouldn't hurt you. I'd rather
be damned for all eternity."

The intensity of
the moment made it impossible to stay. As I backed away from his light touch,
my eyes continued locked with his for one, two, three steps, before I turned
and ran the rest of the block and up the steps to my porch.

At the front door,
I peeked over my shoulder. Holden was where I'd left him, staring at me.

Not having my
purse meant not having a key, so I knocked. Dad opened the door almost
immediately.

"Honey.
What—"

"Sorry,"
I pushed past him and into the entranceway. Pressing a kiss on his stubbly
cheek, I continued. "Forgot my key." I didn't say where I'd forgotten
it but that wasn't lying was it?

I was halfway up
the stairs before he could respond.

"Didn't Quinn
walk you home?" he asked.

"Quinn was a
jerk, so I left him at the dance." I stopped midstride and turned to Dad
with a smile.

"I knew I
shouldn't have let you go out with that kid," Dad muttered.

"I can take
care of myself," I said. Great. Now Dad wouldn't let me
 
outta the house with another boy.

"You should
have called. I don't like the idea of you walking home alone at night."
Dad had been inclined to be over protective since my mother had left us two
years ago. For the first time in a long time I really looked at Dad. Forty-six
wasn't that decrepit. He had all his hair. He could pass for that guy on Mad
Men. Dad should be dating.

"Someone else
walked me home," I said.

"Did you have
a good time?" He asked.

"Yeah,
Daddy." Good time? That hardly seemed an accurate way to characterize
events that felt life changing. I didn't know what to feel about Holden. My
instincts told me to trust him. But how could I after the things I'd heard and
seen? On the other hand, some of the things I'd seen were so crazy could I
really trust my own senses?

"G'night,
Daddy."

"Night."
He gave a little wave and began to walk toward the living room. "Sleep
well. SATs tomorrow. You have to be there by 10 a.m."

My Dad and his
never ending quest for me to be college material. He wanted me to go to his
alma mater but it wasn't gonna happen...not with my mediocre grades. But how to
break it to him?

"Ummmm,
Dad?" I said, stopping him.

"Yes,
honey?"

"Ummmm.
Nothing. See you in the morning." I would tell him then.

Dad shook his head
"I have to go into work early tomorrow." At my groan he continued.
"I know. Saturday. But I'll be home in time to catch a movie if you wanna
go."

"Okay,"
I said. "Tomorrow. After the test."

* * * * *

As I turned on the
water faucet to rinse out a glass the next morning, I glanced through the
window over the sink. Outside, Holden was sitting in a wicker chair on the back
courtyard patio. An unaccountable affection I couldn't quell even if I wanted
to filled me at the sight of him. He still wore the same navy blue shirt and
jeans he had on at the dance. Had he been there all night?

Opening the back
door, I called out to him. "Hey Holden. Why don't you come in?"

He shook his head.
"Your father—"

"He left for
work already. It's okay."

He rose with a
smile and came forward.

"I'm just
finishing breakfast."

Holden strode
inside shutting the door behind him. When he saw the kitchen table, he let out
a bark of laughter.

"What?"
I asked. "What's so funny?"

"That,"
he said, pointing to the box of cereal next to the milk carton and used bowl on
the table. "It's funny because Lucky Charms is my favorite
breakfast."

"Do you want
some?" I moved to the cupboard to get a second bowl.

"Na,
I'm...not hungry right now," he said. "But man I loved the Charms. It
used to make my mom furious when she'd come downstairs in the morning and find
me eating right out of the box."

"Didn't you
use milk?"

"Yeah. But
sometimes I was impatient and I just poured the milk into the plastic bag the
cereal comes in."

"Omigod.
You're terrible," I joked.

"Mom would be
like, 'You're ruining the whole box' but I didn't care. It only meant I got to
eat the whole thing. An entire box of Lucky Charms and a slice of cold
pizza."

"Eww, what a
combination." I crinkled my nose in distaste. "Of course, I already
threw my pizza crust in the waste basket this morning. Don't get too close or
you'll smell my guilty pizza breath."

We both laughed.

"Come here,
pizza breath." Holden reached for my shoulders and pulled me to him.
Bringing one hand to my chin, he tilted my face up while leaning down to me.
"I need to kiss you."

Okay with me. More
than okay.

His mouth covered
mine, his full lips moving to send ripples of pleasure running from my head to
my feet. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I eagerly opened them. I
was rewarded with my first French kiss.

Not wanting to
break the spell, I nevertheless couldn't help wrapping my arms around his neck
and running my fingers up his neck and into his hair. He seemed to enjoy my
caresses. Holden groaned and the kiss deepened even more.

Finally, Holden
pulled back and broke our kiss. With his arms still around me he smiled and
licked his lips. "Yum. Pepperoni."

Suppressing a
smile, I said, "But in my defense, I did use a bowl for the cereal."

This renewed his
laughter and I joined in.

"I love
that," he said when our laughter had died.

"The cereal?
I thought we just established that."

"No, the
little squeak you have at the end of your laugh. You always have that
squeak."

"What do you
mean by
always
? You said I
always
squeak."

A shadow of an
expression passed over his face but was gone before I could process exactly
what it meant. A grin replaced the shadow. His arms dropped and he walked to
the other side of the kitchen table, putting it between us.

"Every time
I've heard you laugh like you really mean it, you have a little squeak at the
end," he explained.

"I don't
know. A squeak makes me sound like a mouse," I said, forcing a chuckle.
"Real attractive."

Holden stared at
me. No laughter in his eyes. No smile on his lips. Utter sincerity. "You
think your ordinary," he said. "Average. You're not. You're
beautiful."

Suddenly, the pine
plank of our kitchen table was the most interesting thing in the world and I
traced the line of the grain with my index finger as he continued.

"You're
funny, and compassionate and you care about others," he continued.
"Sometimes I think you care too much about others. Sometimes....But
anyway. This time, I don't want anything or anyone to stop us from being
together."

"The way you
talk, it's like we've know each other—"

"All our
lives?" he inserted.