Long Black Veil (14 page)

They drove on in another round of awkward silence. Finally, Devon got up the courage to mention the reason why Brock had presumably invited her to his Halloween party and why he was being so nice to her. “Do you still need help with your college essay?”

Brock slowed the car as they begin the climb up the gravel road that led to Gammy’s. “Yes!” He ducked his head as if embarrassed at the enthusiasm in his voice. “I mean, I didn’t think you’d still do it after the whole Skylar thing.”

Devon blinked. Really? He thought that about her—that she wouldn’t help him just because his ex-girlfriend happened to be a complete bitch-waffle? She said as much to him. “Of course I’d still do it. What she did doesn’t have anything to do with you asking for help with your essay. I am a rational person!” Most of the time, she amended silently.

“Okay, okay,” he said, briefly lifting his hands from the wheel as he gestured in apology. “Can you get together after school tomorrow?”

Devon was distracted by the church as they slowly drove past it. She couldn’t help but crane her neck to see if the veiled woman was standing by the grave in this downpour. Brock slowed the car even further to allow her to look. He even peered out the window to see what was so fascinating.

“What is that?” The rain made it hard to see.

“An old church. Most of it’s gone now.” Devon subsided back in her seat, satisfied that the small graveyard was empty. “I’m just up ahead.”

Brock gave the car more gas to get them up over the last rise. Gammy’s trailer came into view. “So tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Devon answered. “Meet me at the public library and bring all of your applications.”

Brock nodded. “And I’ll try to have the answer to your question.” He pulled the car to a stop in the front yard.

“Thanks.” Devon gathered up her stuff in her lap and opened the door. “And thanks for the ride.” She sprinted off through the rain to the front door.

Chapter Fourteen

Gammy was waiting for her, and had the door open before she had even cleared the porch stairs. She pulled Devon inside and they both watched as Brock waited until she was safely indoors before turning the car around and heading back down the mountain.

“Who was that boy gave you a ride home?” Gammy asked as they closed the door against the weather.

Devon stripped off her jacket and hung up her messenger bag on the back of kitchen chair. She felt chilled to the bone, like nothing would ever warm her, and she hadn’t even gotten that wet. She knew the only cure for it was a scalding hot shower and she told Gammy as much. Then she said, “Brock Cutler gave me a ride. He works down at the Hall of Records where I was doing research.”

“The Cutlers?” Her voice was heavy with suspicion.

“Yes.” Devon’s reply was muffled as she peeled off her sweater.

Gammy’s sharp eyes didn’t miss much. She caught Devon’s wrist and pulled her into the light, examining her upper arm. “He give you this?”

“No!” Devon was shocked that Gammy could even think that. “It was just some guy at school.”

Gammy subsided, but she didn’t look happy. “Go get warmed up. I’ll fix you some stew.”

Devon did as she was bid, grabbing her bathrobe from her room before hitting the shower. She sighed as the hot water leeched the ice from her bones, making her feel liquid and light. She took a better look at the bruises on her arm. The marks of Micah’s fingers stood out against her pale skin. They weren’t bad, not as bad as some of the scrapes she’d gotten running wild in the hills when she was a kid, but it was unsettling to see the evidence of his strength imprinted on her flesh. She quickly rinsed off and bundled herself up in a towel and robe.

Gammy had a bowl of leftover venison stew set out for her. Devon sat, picking up her spoon, but didn’t dig into it right away. She looked across the table at her grandmother, who was staring at her cautiously. She’d never seen Gammy look at her that way before.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked her grandmother.

Gammy folded her hands together, clasping the fingers around each other until they made a tight ball. She didn’t answer right away. Devon waited, putting her spoon back on the table. Finally Gammy answered her.

“Is there something going on that you’d like to tell me about?”

Devon blinked. There was something in Gammy’s voice, a hardness and a warning both that baffled her. “Huh?” She couldn’t think of anything more articulate than that.

“The boy who gave you those,” Gammy gestured toward her arm, “and the Cutler boy giving you a ride home.” She narrowed her eyes. “Awful lot of attention being paid to you, and not the good kind.”

Devon was glad she hadn’t taken a bite of stew because she probably would have spit it out in shock. “I don’t understand.” Why was Gammy making her feel like she’d done something wrong? “All Brock did was give me a ride back from town so I didn’t have to walk home in the wet!”

“And the one who gave you that?” Gammy nodded her head in the direction of Devon’s arm.

“Just some jerk at school. He got mad when I wouldn’t be nice to him.” Devon tried not to shudder at the memory of Micah grabbing her. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Gammy seemed to relax a bit, subsiding back into her chair. “I know you didn’t.” Then her voice took on a tone of concern. “You need to stay away from that Cutler boy.”

“But Gammy,” Devon protested, “I told you he wasn’t the one who grabbed me. And we’re just friends.”

Were they friends? When had that happened? When did she start thinking of Brock Cutler as her friend? Would Brock say the same thing? She thought that he might. Somewhere along the way, a change had happened. Maybe it was all of the time spent in the records office or maybe it was just that being seniors meant there wasn’t as much need to care about what other people thought.

Gammy frowned. “We don’t mix with town folk, Devon. Bad things happen when we mix with them.”

Devon narrowed her eyes. “My dad was town folk.”

“And look how that turned out for your mama.”

Devon shrank back as if Gammy had lunged at her with a kitchen knife. “That’s ridiculous.”

Gammy shook her head. “Bad luck followed bad luck once your mama chose your daddy.” She raised her eyes to meet Devon’s. “I won’t have the same thing happening to you.” Gammy cut her off when she tried to speak. “Eat your stew.”

Devon set her jaw mulishly, watching in loaded silence as Gammy pushed herself away from the table. When Gammy was like this, she knew she didn’t stand a chance of changing her mind. She would just have to wait and try and talk to her when she wasn’t in one of her moods. Devon picked at her stew with her spoon.

What was that all about anyway—we don’t mix with townfolk? What was Gil then? He was a townie and Devon had been friends with him for ages and Gammy had never said a thing against it. She ladled food into her mouth, trying to figure out what this was really all about.

She dipped a leftover biscuit into the stew, using the liquid to soften the hardened bread. Gil was gay. Devon couldn’t have chosen him, nor he her, even if she’d wanted to. Is that want Gammy meant? She was afraid Devon would run off after Brock Cutler? Devon wanted to snort; the Earth suddenly orbiting the moon was more likely to happen than that, no matter how cute Brock might be.

She took another bite, watching Gammy knit another afghan for her bed. Gammy’s bed would probably collapse under the weight of yet another blanket, but that didn’t stop her from knitting. Devon felt herself smiling. It was hard to stay mad at the old woman, when she’d done her best to raise her. Gammy didn’t want her turning out like Lorelei, and Devon couldn’t exactly blame her for that. Still, it did bother her a little bit that here was someone else determined to tell her what to do or who to be friends with. She was old enough—and smart enough—to make her own decisions.

Devon finished off her dinner, listening to the wind whip around the trailer as it rattled through the trees. The gusts threw fistfuls of raindrops at the windows and the side of the trailer, sounding like machine gun pops in the movies. She washed her bowl in the sink, taking a look at the murk just beyond the light from inside. Nothing but darkness surrounded them, and for a moment, Devon felt the need to pull a blanket tightly around herself and huddle in front of the wood stove to keep whatever badness lay in the darkness outside of the firelight at bay. Instead, she placed her clean bowl on the rack to dry and went into the living room to give Gammy a peck on the cheek.

“I love you,” she said simply when Gammy looked up at her with a question written in the wrinkles across her forehead.

“I love you too, my girl.” She set down her knitting. “I just worry about you sometimes.”

Chapter Fifteen

The day hadn’t been horrible: she’d only been propositioned twice and hooted at four times. And she’d managed to avoid Micah and Skylar for the entire day. Devon felt like she could finally relax a little. All that was left was meeting Brock at the library.

She stopped at her locker to switch out books. The halls were mostly empty as students scurried to catch buses and rides home.

A loud bang next to her head made Devon flinch. She jerked away, slamming her locker closed, ready to run. But it was only Gil, grinning at her twitchiness.

“What’s got you so spooked?”

Devon tried to smile, but found it too hard. Besides, he’d see through it anyway. “Just have a lot on my mind.”

He arched a brow, but said nothing. Devon appreciated his silence. She wanted to tell him everything she’d found out so far, and everything else she suspected, but she couldn’t bring herself to start. It was too much.

Gil put his arm around her. “What is it, Dev?”

She was going to tell him everything, but Micah’s booming voice kept her silent. “You trying to get a piece of our little squaw?”

Devon jumped, a huge pit opening in her stomach. Gil tightened his arm around her. He turned and scoffed, “Do you have to work at being a Neanderthal or is it a natural gift?”

Micah stopped smirking at them. His lip lifted in disgust. “You want some lessons in how to be a real man, you fairy?”

Gil’s eyes narrowed, his lips tightening in a bloodless smile. “Are you offering to teach me?”

Micah grabbed Gil’s jacket, slamming him against the wall of lockers. “I’ll wipe that smile off your faggot face.”

“Hey!” Devon yelled, launching herself at Micah, pulling at his arms.

“And how do you propose to do that, you walking side of beef?”

“Gil, shut up!” Devon kept yanking at Micah, but it was like trying to move a refrigerator.

“Back off, slut,” Micah shouted, shoving her away.

Devon reeled back, trying to catch her footing. Someone steadied her, and she turned her head to see Brock holding her up.

“DUDE!” he yelled, letting go of Devon to go help Gil.

Micah glanced at Brock, and that was all the opportunity Gil needed. Devon watched as he grabbed Micah’s arms and twisted his body, moving away from the lockers and putting the larger boy in some kind of hold. It must have been really uncomfortable if the redness of Micah’s face was any indication.

“Now apologize.” Gil’s voice was soft, but Devon could see how serious her friend’s face was as he kept Micah in the hold.

“Fuck you!” Micah struggled, but Gil adjusted his hold and Micah turned even redder. “Brock, man, smear this queer.”

Brock stepped back, shaking his head. “Just apologize, man.”

Gil raised his eyebrows at Devon, clearly surprised at the reasonable tone in Brock’s voice as much as at the fact that Brock wasn’t going to leap to his friend’s rescue. Devon shrugged. Brock was just full of surprises.

“You know what? Forget it.” Gil flung his hands free of Micah and walked over to join Devon. Micah took a few moments to recover, then stood up straight. He made another move to start something with Gil, but Brock stepped in front of him, holding him back.

“The hell, man?” Micah’s voice sounded confused and hurt, like he couldn’t understand what his friend was doing.

Devon watched as Brock ran a hand through his hair. “Just get out of here. Before a teacher comes by and writes you up.”

Micah looked from Brock to Devon and Gil, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He struggled for words, but even those seemed to fail him. Devon tried not to take pleasure in his predicament, but she wasn’t made of such stern stuff.

“What’s gotten into you, bro?” Micah’s brow knit in puzzlement. “You used to be one of us. Now you’re hanging out with the Geek Squad?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me.” Brock’s voice was hard when he finally answered his friend. “What’s gotten into you? Or maybe it’s a who, not a what?”

Micah looked away, his face flushing, this time with embarrassment. Devon watched curiously, knowing that she and Gil should probably leave while Micah was distracted, but not really wanting to. Gil seemed just as interested as she was.

“Skylar’s no good for you, man,” Brock continued, his voice low and urgent. “Trust me on that one. She’s not one to stick around once she gets what she wants.”