Manipulation (Shadows) (5 page)

SEVEN

Addison

I’m in my last class of the day. Finally. Does high school always move this slow? The conversation with Ellie about Chase and Caitlyn is running around in my head. It shouldn’t be. She’s eleven and knows nothing. Right? The problem is kids her age are much more likely to tell the truth than people my age, so I wonder who her source was. I feel that horrid, afraid feeling that crawls through me when I think too hard about Chase. That little warning from somewhere deep that I try not to listen to.

I love Chase. When I’m eighteen, and he finally talks to his parents, we’ll be able to be together. Together in our own fabulous downtown apartment, and then all this worrying will seem stupid.

I check my phone, even though I know he hasn’t called. I’ve called him twice. Once today. Once yesterday. It wouldn’t be too weird to call him again today, would it? Would I seem needy? I really don’t want to seem needy.

Mr. Clancy glances briefly out from his computer. I drop the phone in my lap and turn a page in the book I’m not reading.

The bell rings. I grab my phone, book, and start toward my locker.

Maybe Chase will be able to come here. I know he’s planning on being in town for a few days. That’s enough to do it. To make me dial the phone. There’s a few other students with their phones out already. No big deal.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my Princess?”

“Hey. Just calling to say, hi.” Now I realize I probably should have waited until the noise of
high school
calmed down before calling. If Caitlyn is prowling, this is definitely not going to help my cause.

“No. You’re calling to see when I’ll be in town.”

“Maybe.” I bite my lower lip.

“I’m not sure, Addison. Things are really stacking up.” His voice has that tired quality that Dad’s always has.

“Right. Because you do what? Oh, right. Nothing.” I tease him about it, but sometimes it really pisses him off.

“Don’t be like this. You and I are fun, Addison. Don’t make it different.”

Why do I feel like he’s dismissing me?

“I’m almost eighteen.” He knows
this, right? This is the moment
I’ve been waiting for. I stop at my locker, tuck my book under my arm, and scroll through the combination.

“Oh.” His voice makes me feel like he doesn’t remember.

“You know, what we’ve talked about?” I open the locker, no longer able to think or concentrate on what needs to go in my pack
because Chase is obviously thinking way too hard to remember an event I’ve been looking forward to for two years
.

“Ohh…” He knows now, but there’s no excitement in his voice, just hesitation.

I’m silent. Barely breathing. Waiting. Hoping.

“I’ll make it to town next week.” His voice is flat.

“Okay.” I’m doing best to keep my voice neutral, but his attitude is ripping at my chest.

“So… We’ll get together.” His voice only has a small shadow of the enthusiasm I want from him.

“If you can find me.” I try to tease but maybe it came out all wrong.

“There’s my girl.” He chuckles sounding like the relaxed and easy guy I know. “See you soon.” His end clicks before I can answer.

The feeling is horrible. Like Chase is starting to pull away from me. I have no idea how to get him to pull
toward
me without coming off completely needy. I haven’t seen him in two months. Maybe longer. He doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. This sucks. It’s time for the shopping trip to replace my jeans and Gucci tee, and maybe a few other things—like Chanel boots.

“Addison.” Trent kisses my cheek from behind.

“Eww!” I push him away.

“That’s not what you said on Prom night.” He wags his eyebrows, smiling.

“Oh, get over yourself. We kissed one time. Don’t get all touchy-feely just because you happened to be the one there.” I stare at the inside of my locker. What the hell do I need?

“You know you miss me, Addison.” Trent runs his hand through my hair. And stupid Chase probably doesn’t care anyway, right?

I turn toward him. His eyes are all wrong, his face is all wrong. Crap. I’m thinking about
Dean
. The one I can’t hook up with, not even for fun. Because, it’s all just too weird.

“Trent. Are you or are you not going to spend the next few years in London?”

“Um. Probably.” He shakes his blond hair out of his face.

“See you.” I shut my locker and start toward the front door. I don’t know what prompted me to go with him to prom in the first place. It just makes things hard. Complicated. Definitely need a shopping trip. I know what happens when I start thinking too deeply. It brings worrying and awkward feelings in my chest. I want none of it.

* * *

I rummage through my closet for a good shopping outfit. If I’m not dressed good enough, I might not get the help I need, and that’s really irritating.

Something dark flashes on the edge of my vision and I spin around, but I’m still alone in my closet. Was it nothing? But if it was nothing, why is my heartbeat taking over my body?

My heart hammers harder as I push open my closet door. I clutch the handle and look around my room, almost afraid to step into it. What’s going on?

I’m sure I saw something. Had to be. Right? I slide my phone from my pocket, and then realize how stupid I’ll sound if I told anyone. What on earth would I say—I think I maybe saw a moving shadow in my room?

Right.

“Were you serious about shopping or were you teasing me?” Deborah’s voice carries down the hall.

“Serious!” I call back as I take another deep breath and try to convince myself I’m crazy.

“Does that mean serious shopping?”

“I’m still saving, a bit,” I say as my heart continues to slow down.

Deborah’s face appears in my doorway. “What for?”

“I…” But there’s really no logical explanation. It’s just something I’ve been doing. Like a compulsion. Mostly, I have a limit on my credit card, but I also get cash once in a while. I stash almost all of it. Deb knows this because she’s always trying to get me to dig into my stash.

“Whatever. How much do you have to spend?” She pulls her phone out to check it. Deborah’s always fidgeting. It makes me crazy. Just stand, or sit. Hold still.

“Well, I’m already in trouble so I figure it doesn’t much matter.” That and after Chase and getting in trouble and thinking about Dean. I’m feeling reckless.

“Perfect. Ready?”

I glance down. “Do I look ready?”

“You look like you spend money. Is that what you were after?” Her mouth pulls into a half-smile.

“Exactly.”

*
*
*

Unfortunately, shopping is passing in a blur. It seems silly to get the same Gucci top, but I’m having a hard time deciding. Deb’s bored and can’t believe I haven’t gotten more than a pair of jeans. I point out that the
y did cost me close to five
hundred dollars. I probably should have put my old pair in the wash. I think about Chanel boots, but Dad would have an aneurism.

“I need Adidas.” Okay, I know I shouldn’t be thinking about Dean
, but I obviously am. One sixty
dollar pair of shoes isn’t going to hurt anything.

“What?” Deb’s mouth opens and she gives me this half-chuckle of disbelief.

“I just need something comfy.” That should be a good enough indication, right?

“Your flats are comfy. And not
Adidas
.” Her whole body suddenly looks weighed down with invisible weights. She’s so dramatic.
“Gucci makes this adorable—”

“Come on. It won’t kill you to come to Macy’s with me.”

“It might.” She folds her arms.

“Not everyone shops at nothing but designer stores, Deb.” Even me.
Even most of the people I know aside from you.

“I guess.”

Has she always been this spoiled?

Once we get to Macy’s shoe department, it only takes five minutes to spot them. Old school black Adidas with white stripes. Just like Dean’s. The guy I met once, sort of twice. What am I doing? But they end up under my arm, right next to my five hundred dollar jeans.

“Where on earth are you ever going to wear those?” Deb’s head flops to the side and her perfectly manicured brows go up.

“To class.” The one for delinquents, like me.

* * *

I have on my new shoes, jeans and a hoodie. But my shoes look new. Too clean. Then I realize Dean may think I’m crazy or stalking him or something. Whatever, I don’t care what Dean thinks about me. Finally, annoyed with myself, I slide off the tennis shoes and put on a pair of flats. Then I trade out my sweatshirt hoodie for a cashmere version of the same thing. I’m sure I’m being ridiculous. Why am I over thinking this? Why am I thinking about this at all?

My head is all over the place on my way to class. I stop trying to think about any one thing and stare out the window when my phone rings.

Ellie.

“Hey, I only have a few minutes.” I climb out of the car and up the steps to class.

She sounds like she’s choking on the other end.

My chest seizes up, waiting. “Ellie?”

“They’re sending me…” More stifled sobs.

“Are you okay?” I step into my classroom and stand next to my chair. She is most definitely not okay, and I’m going to be stuck in this stupid class. Ellie’s such a level-headed kid. I can’t imagine what happened.

“Dad’s sending me to Paris…”

I drop into my chair as my stomach rolls over.

Dean sits next to me.

Dread seeps in. It’s like the punishment that won’t seem like a punishment to anyone else we know. Boarding school in Paris.

“Come on, Ellie! Paris!” I try to keep my voice excited but my lower lip is trembling.

“Don’t try that. I don’t understand what I did wrong. Why don’t they want me here anymore?” I can hear her eleven-year-old heart breaking and it about kills me because I know why they’re sending her away. They’re sending her away because of me.

“You’ll love it once you get there!” But I don’t believe it. Not for a minute. She’s the reason I need to stay in New York. Ellie needs family, and I’m the one she’s got.

My heart is shattering into pieces. I wonder if they’ll send her for the summer term or if she’ll get to be home until fall. My hands are shaking, and my stomach has a sickening fluttery feeling that I’m not sure how to get rid of.

“Addison, I need you to turn off your phone please.” Our teacher is here. When did she get here?

“Uh… Okay.” I don’t want to hang up on Ellie. “I’m so sorry, Ellie. Have a hot cocoa. I’ll call you when I’m done or see you as soon as I get home, okay?”

“See you.” Her line clicks.

I hang up my phone and wipe tears from the corners of my eyes. It’s so completely unfair.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice is soft next to me.

“No.” What other explanation could I give him right now?

Our teacher stands up to start class.

I’m miserable. They’re punishing Ellie for what I’ve done. It’s way worse punishment than anything they could dream up for me. I try to take deep breaths to keep from crying. The next hour and a half will be torture.

Dean sets a small note on my desk.

What happened?

I glance over at him quickly. Does he actually care? He’s watching the teacher, but our eyes meet briefly, and he pulls up a corner of his mouth before I look away. How can one brief look send waves of something so powerful through me? I shake my head before answering.

Parents punishing sister because of me.

It hits my gut again as I read the words. He sighs as soon as he slides the note open in his lap.

Just that small amount of thoughtfulness from him makes me feel a little better. I remember that he’s missing a brother. He’ll probably understand more than anyone.

I’m sorry. Can I do anything?

Our eyes connect for another brief moment. These little tingles start to float around and disperse, breaking up the tension inside me.

Thanks, and no.

Through the whole class, his eyes shift to mine. He’s concerned. My eyes catch his a few times, but his gaze is so intense and his deep brown eyes sort of take my breath away. It’s too much. Too deep. I have zero idea what was discussed, and forgot to wash my hands.

I jump up as soon as class is over and call Ellie. She doesn’t answer, but I get a text in return.

I’M IN ORCHESTRA. FEELING OK. WILL BE HOME LATE AND WILL COME C U.

The relief fills me up. I step outside and am instantly wet. Bad day to wear cashmere.

EIGHT

Dean

I don’t remember the last time it rained so hard. The drops
hurt. I’m suddenly wishing I were
still in class.

“Hey, Jim. Where’s my dad?” Addison has the back door of the car open and her head inside. Which begs the question, why am I listening?

“He asked me to pick you up, Ms. Prince. He’s in a meeting.”

“Please just call me Addison.” I’m guessing by her voice this is an interchange they have often.

I’m getting soaked. This isn’t a bus stop with a cover. Of course not. It’s in front of the school for delinquents like me, and drug addicts, and people with anger management issues, and the list goes on. I pull my jacket more tightly around me.

“Hey, you need a ride?” Addison’s standing tall and looking straight at me.

I look back, and I’m so stunned, I’m not sure what to say.

“Aren’t you getting wet?”

Obvious observation
. Fortunately, I keep that comment to myself.

“Your dad didn’t say anything about anyone else.” Jim leans back from the driver’s seat.

Addison pokes her head back inside. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

The driver shrugs and looks forward.

“Did you hear me?” Her eyes widen. “I’m getting drenched waiting for your answer.”

Why am I torn? My choices are to wait in the rain for a smelly bus or to get in the back of a Rolls with a hot girl. This should be easy. But it’s not. Why isn’t it easy? I’m usually good at following hot girls. I end up in messes like with Sam, but it’s still worth it.

“Sorry I asked.” She climbs in.

I leap out of my stupor and jog the few steps to the car. “Thanks.”

She scoots over as I slide in.

“Can you turn up the heat, Jimmy?” She has her head tilted to the side and is blotting her hair with a towel. Where on earth did the towel come from?

“Oh. Here.” She reaches into a compartment between our two seats and grabs me a small towel as well. “Jimmy always brings towels when it’s raining like this.”

“Thanks.” I have no idea what to do with a white towel in the backseat of a nice car. I wipe my face and run it once over my hair. Part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of this small luxury. The damn towel is warm.

“Where are you headed?” she asks.

I really don’t want her to know where I live. “Grand Central or somewhere close would be great, if it’s on the way.” From there, the ride home isn’t too bad, and after watching Addison, my guess is she doesn’t live too far from there. I slide my foot to touch hers.
Why did you offer me a ride?

“You were nice about my sister. I’m pissed at Chase. I have nowhere to be, nothing waiting for me when I get home, and I was bored.” She looks quickly away.

I’m bummed. It usually works longer than that. I start to reach my toe over again to see if she likes me, what she thinks of me but she’s leaning the other way, and it would be too obvious.

“You’re a bundle of conversation.” This is why I almost didn’t get in the car.

“Oh.” Her face turns toward mine again. “Sorry. This just isn’t how I planned my day.”

The makeup is washed off her face, and I like it. A lot. Her creamy skin and dark hair is a startling contrast. Her bangs are soaked and she’s wiped them off her forehead. Her blue eyes are even brighter with her exposed skin.

“Should I get out?”

“No.” She laughs. A tinkling, chuckling laugh. “Not in this.”

Water’s washing down the windows as if someone’s pouring buckets over the top of the car.

“Are you okay? Or your sister?” Another pang hits my chest. It sucks to feel like you’re not helping your sibling, especially when you’re close. I’m only guessing they’re close because Addison doesn’t strike me as a girl who would cry in public unless there was no other option.

“My parents have always threatened me with boarding school, but they’re doing it to my sister instead. Probably as more of a punishment to me than anything else.” Her mouth pulls into a frown.

Jimmy glances briefly toward the back seat. “Addison, I just got a message from your mom. We’re picking her up on our way.”

“What, now?” Addison leans forward, her whole body tense. “Not now.”

“I can get out, if that’s the problem,” I offer. I’d imagine that picking her mom up with me in the car wouldn’t help matters any.

“No, you’re fine.” She touches my leg and I hear it clear as day.
Stay
.

I force myself rigid so I don’t jump across the car to get away from her. Two things run through my mind. Addison wants me in her car with her. This hits me first, because in its own way, it’s the more unbelievable of the two. And the second, is that she really can do what I do. Or something like it. What are the odds?

I put my hand on hers.
Love to.

Her face snaps toward mine and just like we shocked each other, both of us pull our hands back, and she scoots until her back hits the car door. I can’t look away. And I swear I can hear her heart going as crazy as mine.

“So,” Jim starts again. “What were you saying?”

“I, uh…” Her eyes are deadlocked on me.

I can’t move. Can’t breathe. This is crazy-insane.

“Just let us out before you pick up Mom, okay?” she asks, her eyes still wide on me.

“No can do. Specific instructions.”

We’re still staring. My heart’s flying, hitting my chest harder with each beat.
She does what I do
, or something very, very, similar.

“You can’t keep me in the car.” A corner of her mouth pulls up as her eyes continue to penetrate mine. Almost daring me to make the first move.

We reach for Jimmy’s shoulder at the same time.

And we know. Right in that moment. I know and she knows, but neither of us does it. “Just think it,” I whisper. I now have a theory about class ending early our first day.

Pull over. Let us out.

“Is this okay, Addison?” He pulls off to the side of the road.

“Perfect.” She jumps out right behind me.

We walk away quickly, no point in risking screwing it up. The noise of the cars and the water make it hard to talk, and my breathing echoes in my head just adding to the noise.

“What now?” The hood of her thin sweater is pulled as far over her face as it can be.

I look around. Wait. We’re only two blocks from my house, the one I really don’t want her to see. “There’s a Starbucks on the corner over here.”

“How do you know that?”

“Come on.” I start to walk away.

“Wait up, Dean!” She jogs to catch up.

I’m too freaked out to realize I’m probably being rude. Like she should have my jacket, or I should at least be walking next to her instead of half running away.

“Did you see what we just did?” Her voice is filled with excitement.

“Yeah.” And I thought I couldn’t trust her before.

We duck into Starbucks. “Wow, it’s really coming down.” She pulls her hood off. Her hair’s wet, her face is wet and she looks more stunning than I’ve ever seen her. Well, the two other times I’ve seen her.

I must be staring.

“What?”
She’s
staring.

“Aren’t you a little freaked out about all of this?” I ask.

“I guess I figured I’d find someone else sooner or later.” She shrugs. “Ellie keeps telling me I’m not alone. She loves to research.”

I don’t buy it. My guess is she’s just as freaked as I am, she just doesn’t want to admit it. Maybe she’s just better at stuffing things away than I am. And I wonder if Jeremy would be the same way if we were still around each other.

“What do you want?” She stands at the cash register and orders something with too many names for me to follow.

“You’re not buying me anything.” I shake my head.

“How much money do you have in your pockets right now?” Her face is nothing but challenge.

Three bucks, but I don’t say anything. I want none of her attitude. My guess is a lot of her attitude is for show, but I could be wrong. Sam’s ran a lot deeper than I guessed.

How much?
She touches my shoulder, but I’m prepared for her now. It’s almost like I can feel her thought creeping in. Maybe if I can stop her, it won’ t be so bad. Right. As if Addison and I are suddenly going to be pals.

“Nice try, Addie.” I don’t mean to shorten her name, but I do. At least I didn’t let
Bunny
slip out.

“Addie?” She pulls back.

“Sorry.” Only I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for because it seems like an obvious thing to do with a name that’s sort of a mouthful.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Her face looks stiff for a moment before breaking into a smile. Weird. “How did you stop my thought from sinking in and answering when I told you to?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I just felt it, and made it stop.”

Her brows pull together. “Wonder if I can.”

I reach out to touch her, but she backs away, shaking her head with a smile. “Not now.”

“Fine.” I smirk as I turn back to the cash register. I don’t want to blow all my three bucks on one stupid drink, but I hate their coffee out of the pot. “A twelve ounce hot chocolate.” It’s the cheapest thing on the menu.

“Wow.” She smiles. “That’s so cute.”

“Thanks.” I ignore her mocking tone.

I follow Addie to a table, and we sit in silence for a moment as she pulls out sanitizer and slathers it on her hands. I’m wondering how many germs she could have possibly found between here and the car, but there’s another conversation I want to have more—I just don’t know how to start it.

“So you can…”

“Get people to do things for me. With a touch, yes.” She nods. “But I think—”

“We can do it without touching.”

“When we’re together?”

“It’s never really freaked me out before, you know?” I lean across the table and keep my voice quiet. “Because it’s been so limited.”

Her brow wrinkles in part confusion. “Yeah, I guess I know what you mean.”

Now I’m staring at her again. Her petite nose, thin, straight body and deep eyes. She’s gorgeous. Like flawless, looks like she stepped out of a magazine gorgeous. Why am I here?

Better question.

Why is she here?

“Have you always been able to do this?” she asks.

“Since I can remember.” If Jeremy had it too, we might be able to see each other once in a while, but I questioned him a lot before we were separated and he definitely can’t manipulate people. Obviously my random talent wasn’t enough to keep us both safe from Mom.

“Me, too.”

“What do you use it for?”

She laughs. “Mostly inconsequential stuff, really.”

“Ever stolen anything?”

“When they give it to you, it’s not really stealing.” She chuckles.

I raise my eyebrows, actually surprised. But I pegged her for spoiled, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Okay, fine.” She sighs. “I had a saleslady give me a pair of Manolo Blahniks, but I felt bad so I returned them.”

“Very good of you.” I take a long drink of chocolate, a bit amazed I’m having this conversation.

“What about you?”

“Only the kind of stuff that puts me in front of a judge.” I wag my brows—let her think what she wants to with that.

“Guess that’s me, too.”

But I don’t think either of us wants to talk about that now. The table is silent for a moment.

“Do you ever feel weird, like some kind of a… I don’t know. Weirdo or something. For being able to do this? I think it sometimes bothers my sister.” The edges of concern or worry wrinkle at her eyes and forehead.

“As soon as I have that thought, I feel lucky for what I can do. I mean, I have control over it, you know?” That thought of me being an anomaly has creeped in, but I have control over when I do and don’t do things. That makes it feel okay.

“Yeah.” She smiles, looking more relaxed. “Thanks.” She pulls out her phone. “Give me your number.”

“I’m not home much.” Did I just sound like a jerk?

“Not your home number. Your cell.” She rolls her eyes.

“I don’t have one.”

Her mouth drops open. “How do you not have a cell phone?”

“Because most everyone I know lives in the same neighborhood, and…” Why does this suddenly seem like such a crazy thing? It’s just a damn phone. I’ve managed just fine, but now I feel stupid for not spending the money.

“And you don’t get out much?” She smirks and sits back.

“I didn’t say that.” Why does she have to look like she knows everything?

“I would die without my phone.”

“Really?” Why do all girls need to be so dramatic to get their point across?

“Well.” She lets out a breath. “I guess… Actually sometimes I wish I didn’t have one.” Her tone has
completely changed. She sounds…
small.