Hooked (Harlequin Teen) (22 page)

Chapter 41
Fred

THE NEXT DAY,
I walked into Lone Butte High School alone and with real purpose. Not
numb or embarrassed. Determined.

I scanned the faces in the courtyard and the hallways, even the
ones that stared back at me like I was some kind of freak. After dumping my golf
bag in Coach Lannon’s office, I started searching for Ryan. The library and
studying would have to wait. I needed to talk to Ryan before Homeroom and sort
out this whole tournament-disqualification mess. Surviving the weekend without
knowing the truth about the extra club would be impossible. I needed to hear it
directly from him. He owed me that much. I’d make him owe me that much.

And the one time I was brave enough to troll among all the
popular cliques in the courtyard turned out to be the one time that I couldn’t
find Ryan anywhere.

Typical.

Normally he was seated in the center of everything with Gwyneth
Riordan hanging on his shoulder like she had a balance problem.

But, of course, not today.

I passed Seth Winter, though. He and Gwyneth stood near the
courtyard fountain, whispering. I pretended to ignore their obvious glares as I
passed. Clearly word traveled fast, even at an enormous school like Lone Butte.
No matter what I’d accomplish from this day forward, I’d probably always be
known as that crazy Indian girl who cheated at golf.

On the small chance that Ryan was hiding in the stacks, I
checked the library cubicles, too.

Nothing.

I raced outside to the parking lot and hunted for Ryan’s Jeep.
It was usually parked in the first row near the middle. But a bright blue
Volkswagen Bug with a sunflower wrapped around the antenna trespassed in Ryan’s
usual spot. I cursed the happy car before walking back inside.

The first warning bell rang, and I turned, reluctantly, for
Homeroom. But then I realized that I’d see Ryan in English, and my pace
quickened.

Time had to move faster today. It just plain had to.

After an excruciatingly long Homeroom, I walked to English
behind a wall of students, mind-melding with the back of their heads to move
their feet faster.
Faster, faster, faster!
I
screamed inside my head.

I had already decided that I would ditch for the first time in
my entire life if Ryan would agree to talk with me. The seven minutes between
classes hardly seemed long enough to have one of the most important
conversations of my entire life.

I waited outside the door to Mrs. Weisz’s English class and
watched students stream inside. My chest tightened as the hallway began to drain
of students and clatter. I kept glancing from the wall clock inside the room to
the hallway. With less than one minute before the bell, I turned anxiously
toward the hallway again. Instead of Ryan, Seth Winter sauntered toward me with
his backpack dangling over his shoulder. My jaw hardened the instant my eyes
landed on his icy grin.

His nose wrinkled. “Frrr-eed,” he said, stretching out my name
into two syllables. He stood so close that our noses were near enough to touch.
I took a step back from his barrel of a pit bull chest but only backed into the
wall. “Waiting for someone?”

“I—I—” I stammered. Of course, words failed me when I needed
them most.

“If you’re waiting for Ryan, I’ll save you the trouble. He’s
not in school today.”

I blinked. “Oh, okay.” I turned for the door, desperate to be
anywhere other than standing eyeball-level with Seth Winter.

But Seth pulled back on my arm.

I turned, startled, as Seth’s icy smile faded. If ever I’d
wanted Sam Tracy beside me, now was that time.

“You’ve really messed up his head, Pocahontas,” he whispered.
“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m not doing anything. And you’re demented.
I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I turned, but Seth yanked on my
elbow. This time his fingers pinched.

“Sure you do,” Seth said with an eye roll. “Don’t play
stupid.”

My teeth clenched. “Leave me alone.” I jerked my arm out of his
hand and walked through the door.

The bell rang, and I hurried to my seat. Quickly, I sank into
the safety of my plastic chair before I noticed a folded note on my desk. I
opened it, and a tiny yellow flower dropped out—a wildflower, like the ones that
grew at the end of Pecos Road.

Mrs. Weisz started to say something about
Macbeth
and an upcoming essay, but I only half listened. I leaned
forward and carefully unfolded the note so that it lay flat on my notebook. I
sucked in a breath and read:

Fred,

I need to see you. Can you meet me tonight at
8 o’clock at the end of Pecos Road? It’s important. Please?

Ryan

P.S. You seriously need a cell
phone.

I read it again.

And again.

The words made me smile. He wanted to see me, too.

My fingertips brushed across the black letters. The letters
were angled funny, like they were written in a hurry. I brought the flower to my
nose and inhaled. The petals were fresh, recently picked.

Carefully, I folded the flower back inside the note. I turned
to Jon Romano, seated behind me. “Did you see who left this note on my desk?” I
whispered, lifting the folded note.

Jon’s pale brow furrowed.
No,
he
mouthed before taking a hit from his asthma inhaler.

“Did you have a question, Miss Oday?” Mrs. Weisz said, pausing
from her lecture. “A comment, perhaps?”

The room silenced.

I cleared my throat. “No, sorry. No question.”

Mrs. Weisz returned to the whiteboard, and I slid Ryan’s note
into the pocket of my notebook.

Sneaking off to the end of Pecos Road again wasn’t exactly how
I planned to make things right with Ryan, but it was better than not talking at
all. It was all I could do to keep from bursting before school ended.

* * *

During lunch period, I didn’t bother scanning the
cafeteria for Ryan.

All of his friends sat around his usual table by the
window—Gwyneth, Henry, Seth, Zack, Troy. Only Gwyneth looked up at me curiously
when I walked through the front entrance. For a rare moment, her mouth snapped
shut and her eyes shot arrows at me. It didn’t matter that we had never said
more than a handful of words to each other, not since gym class freshman year
when we’d been paired together for badminton. She hadn’t seemed so bad back
then. What had happened to her in the past two years to make her the nastiest
girl in school?

I pretended to ignore the weight of Gwyneth’s stare and hunted
instead for an empty table where I could eat my lunch in peace. I found one just
inside the door and slipped into a seat that faced away from the windows. Even
though I had absolutely no appetite, I reached inside my backpack for my lunch
bag and a book, mostly to keep my hands and eyes busy. Just as I took a bite of
leftover fry bread smothered in honey, someone approached me from behind.

“Fred?” said a voice that I didn’t recognize. It was too high
for Kelly and definitely too sweet for Yolanda.

I turned my chin over my right shoulder a fraction. Then my
eyes looked up.

A lanky girl with straight shoulder-length blondish-brown hair
smiled down at me.

“Hi?” I said, wondering if the girl had me confused with
someone else.

But the girl swallowed and took a step closer. Her books
pressed against her chest like a shield. “I’m Riley Berenger. Ryan’s sister?”
She said it like it was a question, almost as if I wouldn’t know anyone named
Ryan Berenger.

I sucked back a breath at the sound of Ryan’s name. “Oh,” I
said, as I began to take in the familiar shape and color of her eyes above a
ribbon of dainty freckles. They shared the same exact eye color, blue as a
morning sky. Definitely related.

“You mind if I eat with you?” Riley carried an armful of books
but no lunch.

“Sure.” I motioned to the table.

Riley smiled, relieved. She pulled back the seat right next to
mine, bumping her knee against the chair in the process. “I wasn’t sure if you’d
know me, being that I’m a sophomore and all.”

One corner of my mouth curled up. “I remember you from Ryan’s
party.” Only, this time she wasn’t hidden in the stairwell shadows.

Her eyes brightened. “Studying
Macbeth?
” Riley nodded at my unopened book.

“Trying.” My nose wrinkled. “It’s not my favorite.”

Riley’s nose wrinkled, too. “I’ll have that next year.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I said. “Would you like some bread?”

Her eyes widened. “That looks so good. Did you make it
yourself?”

“No. My mom did.”
A rare treat.
I
tore off a chunk.

“We only eat fry bread when we go to the fair.”

I nodded, then took another bite, wondering why Riley Berenger
had sought me out, of all people in the lunchroom.

“I wanted to tell you something,” she said, as if she could
read my mind. Her voice changed to a whisper. “About my brother.”

I paused from chewing.

“He’s a lot of things, but he’s not like that.”

I swallowed. “Like what?”

“He told me about the tournament. He would never have put his
club in your bag. Not on purpose. I swear it.”

I put the bread onto my napkin. Then I smiled at Riley. “I
know.”

Riley’s bony shoulders caved forward underneath her pink tank
top. “Good. I’m really glad you know that.” She paused, dragging her tongue
across her lips. They had become shiny with honey from Mom’s bread. “He’s a
pretty good brother, actually. Once you get to know him.”

“Why isn’t he in school today?”

“He told my mom he wasn’t feeling well.” Riley frowned and
rolled her eyes. “But he drove me to school and then left before Homeroom.”

“So he came into the building?”

“Yeah. Just to drop off a term paper or something. But he left
right after that.”

“Too bad. I was hoping to talk to him.”

Riley’s head tilted to one side. “Maybe I can help?”

“Thanks, but that’s okay. I already got his note.”

“What note?”

“He left me a note for me in English class.”

“Oh. So that’s what he had to drop off,” she said. “He probably
wants to tell you the news.”

“What news?”

Riley’s small mouth twisted into a ball. “Well, he’ll probably
want to tell you himself....”

My eyes widened. I wondered if this had anything to do with
golf. “Tell me, what?”

Riley sat back, clearly worried that she’d shared too much.

“Please,” I begged.

Finally, she spilled it. “He’s going to live with our uncle
Mark for a while.” Her whole expression crumpled.

“In Phoenix?” My eyes widened.

“No. In San Francisco.”

My jaw dropped. Riley might as well have said the moon. “But
why?”

Riley shrugged, but I suspected there was more she wasn’t
telling me. “Could you do me a huge favor?”

“Sure!” she gushed.

“Tell your brother I’ll meet him tonight, exactly as he asked.
Eight o’clock on Pecos Road.”

“Okay.” She seemed pleased to be the messenger. “I’ll tell him
as soon as I get home.”

“Thanks, Riley,” I said, as my appetite vanished. Now it was
official. I would see Ryan tonight. “Want some more fry bread? I can’t finish
it.”

Riley nodded at the bread hungrily.

“I’ll bring you some next week, if my mom makes more.” I pushed
the last slice toward her.

Her face brightened all over again. “I’d like that.
Thanks.”

Riley stared at me, her gaze sweeping across my face but not in
the usual way that I had grown accustomed to. If I didn’t know any better, I’d
say it was in admiration. “Now I know why Ryan has been acting so weird lately,”
she said suddenly.

I felt my cheeks tingle. “Why? What has he told you?”

“My brother?” Her lips sputtered. “Not a word.”

“Nothing?” I replied, disappointed.

“He didn’t need to. I may be a sophomore, but I’m not
stupid.”

* * *

I stared at my reflection in the small round mirror
nailed to the back of my bedroom door.

I dragged my hands through my hair and then frowned in the dim
light, wondering why I was getting all paranoid about my appearance. The sky
would be marble-black when I met Ryan at the end of Pecos Road. It would be just
as easy to show up covered in a hoodie.

My eyes darted again to the alarm clock. I’d already carved out
a mile between the edge of my bed and my closet, trying to coax time to move
faster. I hadn’t stopped pacing since I got home from school. I’d practiced all
the things I wanted to say to Ryan but then had berated myself when they sounded
silly and childish. Just let Ryan talk, let him explain, I’d decided. That would
be best.

I frowned at the clock again. Then I decided to start
walking.

The trailer was mostly empty. Mom had left for work, and Trevor
hadn’t been home since Wednesday. I tiptoed past Dad. He was sleeping in the
living room on his favorite chair, his legs propped up, snoring the night
away.

I smiled at him. Sunday’s newspaper lay in his lap, the same
one with the tiny story about me in the sports section, the one where the
reporter gushed about my winning streak. Dad had bought five copies and said
that he was going to put one copy in a glass frame and hang it in the hallway
with the rest of the family pictures. He hadn’t been able to stop gloating about
it. Because of the story in the
Arizona Republic,
I
even had brief mentions in
Indian Country Today
and
the
Navajo Times,
to which Dad proudly proclaimed,
“Even the Navajo are impressed, Fred!”

Holding back a breath, I walked the perimeter of the living
room floor on the spots that groaned the least till I finally reached the front
door. The screen door made the faintest pop when it opened but not enough to
excite the dogs.