Hero Reborn (Keepers of Justice, Book 3) (28 page)

“I went out with Rey. Look what he got me for our anniversary.” I hold up the heart pendant hanging off my necklace.

Mom shuffles through the shelves. “Hmm?”

I let go of the pendant. This isn’t the first time my words get lost in the air. “Never mind. I already ate.”

“Oh, that’s right. How was your dinner?”

I don’t know. Lately things have been off with us, and I hoped tonight would fix that. But it didn’t. We don’t seem to click anymore.

I remember how we wouldn’t shut up when we first started going out. Rey would tell me about an article he read in the
Wall Street Journal
, or about a documentary he watched the night before. I’d tell him some juicy gossip going around at school, or about a new TV series or movie I was obsessed with that he
had
to watch. One time he and I had a heated discussion on the research paper he was working on for his political science class. As each date progressed, my heart started opening up to him until it leaped into the palm of his hand.

I don’t understand what’s wrong.

“It was fine,” I tell Mom, who’s munching on a celery stalk. Dark circles hug the bottom of her eyelids, almost identical to my sister’s.

“Put Rosie to bed, Mom. She’s falling asleep on the couch.”

I say goodnight to my little sister and lock myself in my room. Plugging in my earbuds, I crank up my iPod and start the reading assignment for my science homework. Three long chapters.

My phone rings. I scan the screen and grab it. “Happy Anniversary again!” I say.

Rey chuckles. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just reading some bio.”

“Yeah, did that already.”

“Of course you did,” I tease.

Silence.

More silence.

“Uh, Lex?”

“Yeah?”

The silence continues.

He clears his throat. “Nothing. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t
have
anything to say. “Yeah…good night,” I mumble and hang up.

What’s
wrong
with us?

***

The kitchen’s quiet the next morning. Dad eats toast while reading the morning paper, Mom leafs through the pamphlets Dr. Griffin gave her, and Rosie twirls her spoon around the alphabet bits floating in her bowl. Her hair is swept into pigtails.

It’s always like this at breakfast.

“I’ll see you guys later.” I pat Rosie on the head and walk next door to the Daltons. The twins have lived here all their lives, just as I have. I was too shy to befriend them when I was a kid, but once I did, the three of us became inseparable.

If only things were that simple again.

The garage door opens and Cruiser, dressed in jeans and an opened leather jacket, guides his motorcycle out.

I turn away from him. I can’t believe he’s back from New York. He dropped in with no warning a week ago.

He wheels the bike over. “Sup?”

I don’t look at him, just so I won’t stare at the way his brown hair curls over his eyes or how his abs strain against his tight T-shirt. He looks so different from the last time I saw him, a year ago. He’s been working out and grew his hair long.

Heat pulses through my body. I fist my hands to rid the feeling.

“Want a lift?” Cruiser asks, holding out his black helmet. I shut my eyes for a second. He sounds just like Rey. Though the twins aren’t identical, their voices are pretty similar. It was easy to differentiate them growing up, but now that I’m so distanced from him, I can’t tell anymore.

I swallow so my voice won’t shake. “No, thanks.”

“C’mon, you know you wanna.” He jabs the helmet into my arm, lifting his eyebrows.

I press my toes onto the sidewalk to hold back from hopping on behind him and wrapping my arms around his strong body.

I purse my lips. “Will Rey be out soon?”

“Yeah.” He climbs onto the bike, slides on his helmet, and raises the visor. “You sure about the ride?”

No
, my mind yells. “Yes.”

He keeps his eyes on me for a few seconds before kicking into gear and zooming off. I pat my hair in place and fold my arms over my chest.

The front door opens and Rey hurries down the steps, pulling a vest over his white button-down shirt. Although the average temperature doesn’t fall below seventy during early December in Miami Beach, Rey wears a vest almost every day. One of those dorky things I love about him.

He smiles when he sees me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Hey.” I kiss his lips.

“Hey,” he says, leading me to his car. Once we’re pulling out of the driveway, he asks, “What are your plans after school?”

“I’m meeting Dani. I haven’t been spending much time with her because of you.” I punch his shoulder playfully. “I want to hang out with Rosie after that. It’s always hard for her to adjust to a new program and I just want to spend some time with her. Want to come over?”

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Not sure. I should probably practice the violin. Only a few days ‘til my recital.”

“Oh. Yeah, good idea.” I rest my head against the window. “I’m worried about Rosie. Her therapist says she’s doing great, but she’s so…different, you know? Quiet. She doesn’t even want friends over.” Once when I asked her why she refuses to leave the house, she said, “Why? So everyone can stare at the Wheelchair Girl?”

I glance at Rey and find him concentrating on the road. “Rey?”

“Mm?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

I watch him for a few seconds. “Why are you so quiet? I mean, last night—”

“Just got a lot on my mind.” He turns into the school lot and parks, then slips his keys into his pocket and grabs his schoolbag. “See you later.” He gives me a quick peck before rushing inside.

I know he feels uncomfortable when I bring up Rosie and the accident because he doesn’t want to choose sides, but I can’t help it. I want to be open with him, tell him everything in my heart, even though the topic makes him cringe.

As soon as I enter the building, my gaze jumps to Cruiser who’s standing at his locker. He’s surrounded by two giggling girls.

I don’t know why I thought things would be different—that he would be different. He left home a man-whore. He returned a man-whore. He slept with Christie Jennings the day before he left. He slept with her the night he came back.

I stop at the bulletin board a few feet away from him and his posse. I can
feel
him. Goose bumps crawl over my skin and my stomach does jumping jacks.

“Hey.” Dani comes up to me and looks at the flyers on the board. The pom squad tryouts poster that was put up the first week of school glares at me in neon colors.

She taps my shoulder. “You okay? Still got doubts about the squad?”

My fingers reach up to the sign and trace the lettering. I was so excited when I tried out for the team my freshman year. It was all I talked about. My parents threatened to call the coach and convince her to
not
take me because they were scared I’d never shut up. In my sophomore year, the drive and passion were still there, but started to dwindle. And this year? I feel like a robot, doing a routine.

“Yeah,” I tell Dani, fingering the big letters in the center of the flyer:
We placed third in Nationals last year!

“What are you going to do? You—”

“Oh my
God
, Cruiser, that’s
so
funny.”

My head snaps to the lockers. Cruiser’s eyes catch mine. I whirl away from him.

Dani eyes me. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” I shrug. “I’m being stupid, right?”

“About…?” She raises an eyebrow, and peeks at Cruiser.

“About quitting the squad,” I quickly say before she gets the wrong idea.

“Yeah, you’re being stupid. On
both
accounts.”

I don’t want to deal with that right now, so I focus on the poster and think back to yesterday’s practice. I was never that annoyed with my poms before. I touch the letters one last time, hoping they’d ignite a spark in me. They don’t.

“I’ll see you,” I say.

I have no choice but to pass Cruiser on my way to history. The girls’ giggles have magnified, like they’re holding mics to their mouths. The only thought running through my head as I walk by is
don’t look at him, don’t look at him
. But my eyes refuse to obey. His arms cross over his chest lazily and a lock of hair kisses his eyelashes. In the split second that our eyes meet, he flashes me a cocky grin.

I jerk my gaze away and enter my classroom.

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Chapter One

Dad is so lame. Actually, his ideas are. Here I am supposed to be enjoying my fifteenth birthday and he’s walking in
every
second with some new way to “spice up the party” when really all I want is for this to be over.

It’s charades now. Dad’s on the floor, pretending to be a dead fish or something. I don’t know. I’m distracted by all the balloons and streamers.

My gaze drifts to my ten guests. I invited the entire freshmen class, but hardly anyone showed up. Two girls I barely know from Spanish are here. They’ve been whispering and giggling the whole time. Guess they had nothing better to do on a Sunday night other than to ridicule me and my party. Then there are twins who I’m sort of friends with, and a guy whose mother forced him to come because she and my dad work together at the public library. My eleven and thirteen year old neighbors somehow got an invitation. My older sister, Meg, escaped half an hour ago to hang out with her boyfriend. Can’t say I really blame her. And of course my best friend Toby is here, guessing my dad is a sea lion. I’m not sure I could survive this thing without him by my side.

I know, Dad’s trying. Single father with no clue how to raise two teenage daughters. And I love him for that. But I would have been fine with dinner at some fancy restaurant. Just me, Dad, Meg, and Toby.

Dad flops on the floor for five more minutes before I finally convince him that it’s late and my guests should head home. He heaves himself up and pats his butt to clean the dirt, prompting new giggles out of Giggly One and Giggly Two.

One by one, they file out. The only one left is Toby.

“Present time,” I announce.

Dad chuckles. “Now I understand why you were so eager to kick everyone out, Emily.”

I leap to the small table and start opening the packages. DVDs, pretty dangling earrings, a free pass to Six Flags. Money from Dad, which is awesome. The only thing that remains is the present from Toby (Meg claims hers is still in the mail. Sure.)

It’s a small-ish package, wrapped in off-white paper. Giving Toby a look that says, “This better be good,” I tear it off to reveal a video game. “No way.
Triumph
? This doesn’t come out for another two months. How did you get it?”

Toby grins. “I have my sources.”

“Thanks.” I hug him tight. “You got one for yourself, too?”

He scoffs. “As if I’d get you one without getting my own.”

I roll my eyes.

“So,” he says with a crooked smile. “You going to sneak out with your boyfriend to the woods?”

I punch his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Toby likes to tease me about my single status, but I don’t really care that I don’t have a guy. I mean, of course I fantasize what it would be like to have a real boyfriend—and I’m not talking about Danny Lewis, who in fifth grade insisted that kissing on the lips will yield babies—but I’m really relieved I don’t have to go all psycho like some girls at school. Worrying whether they look hot enough, if they’re fun enough, if they’re interesting enough. There’s time to worry about boys later. All I care about is playing video games with Toby. We’re the most badass nightelf couple in
World of Warcraft
.