Rock and a Hard Place (5 page)

“
Yeah, it is. I’m glad you
like it.” She leaned back on her hands and inhaled a deep breath of
nature’s gift. “So, when are you done? When do you go home?” She
ran her hands over the cool, gritty rock, afraid to hear the
truth.

He flipped his mop of hair out of his face.
“We get a couple days to go home here and there, but we’re booked
solid for the next ten weeks. Then if everything falls into place,
we might be going to Europe for a couple months.”

This amazing guy lived his life bigger than
her wildest dreams. Maybe she could have thought about travel and
making huge plans, but life had delivered a left hook and knocked
her off her feet. Each time she tried to get up, another blow
knocked her back down. So now she stopped trying to get back up.
She was nothing, a nobody, a shell of her former self. She wrapped
her arms around her knees and held tight.

“
Now what’s that look for?”
Confusion lit his eyes.

“
Nothing. I just didn’t
know you were such a big deal.” Her lips tightened into a thin
line. “I must look awfully boring to you.” She wouldn’t meet his
eye. Why was he wasting his time with her?

“
I didn’t tell you all that
to brag, but I figure you should know we’re not just another folk
group singing on Sundays. Not that there’s anything wrong with
that. It’s just not what we do.”

He leaned forward, caught her eye and
refused to look away. “And you’re not boring; totally the opposite.
It’s just that we’re always on the go, one rehearsal, taping or
interview after another all day every day. We never stop. My dad
and Garrett are always plotting and planning the next step of our
career.” Peter rolled a small pebble between his thumb and
forefinger mindlessly.

“
Don’t you like it?” She
searched his eyes.

“
Yes, I love it! Are you
kidding?” He tossed the pebble to the water below. “I’m living my
greatest fantasy. Everyday I wake up amazed all this is happening.
But it gets exhausting, and I crave time to be alone and have
privacy.”

He gazed into her eyes. “But times like
this, where I’m doing what I want, like sitting with you.” He
bumped shoulders with her again. “They’re the best.”

Libby bumped him back. “See not every minute
of your day is planned.” He took her hand and gave it a warm
squeeze. She rewarded him with a shy smile. “So what’s your
favorite part of the band?” She loved to hear him talk, and wanted
to know more about his life before he disappeared again.

“
The best part is
performing. I could sing on stage all night. There’s such a
connection to the music and the audience. It’s total
euphoria.”

They sat atop the giant rock engulfed in the
misty cool beauty of the glen. Peter reached over and held her
hand. They relaxed, content in each other’s company. Peter ran his
thumb over her fingers. Suddenly he paused and turned her hand
over.

“
What’s this?” He asked,
innocently enough.

“
Nothing.” She snatched her
hand away, embarrassed.

“
No, give it back.” He
reached out and pulled her hand back into his two and examined the
violent bumps. “What are all these marks?”

Her face heated at his question. “It’s
nothing.” She tried to brush it off, but dread crept in.

“
It’s not nothing, it looks
like cuts.” He held tight to her hand as he examined it. “You’re
not a cutter are you?” He looked her straight in the
eye.

“
No! Now let go.” She tried
to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t release her. Libby’s
happiness spiraled down, the joy of the day gone. Too often the
kids at school snickered ‘cutter’ to her back, just loud enough
that she’d hear.

“
Well, what
happened?”

She understood why he asked. She might ask
the same thing. Peter’s expression was honest concern, nothing
more.

“
They’re scars. From a car
accident.” She bit her lip, not wanting to reveal another
word.

“
Oh God, that’s terrible.”
He continued to study her permanently marred fingers and palm. “It
must have been a really bad accident.”

“
Yeah, it was,” she
whispered as the image of the crumpled car and glow of ambulance
lights flashed in her mind.

He peeked up at her past the heavy chunk of
hair that covered his eyes. “You know, they look like little
starbursts.”

“
Whatever you say,” she
replied, not seeing it.

“
Give me the other one,” he
commanded, as if her feelings weren’t involved. For some reason she
obeyed and extended her other hand. He examined both palms, lightly
trailing his thumb and fingers over the surface of her skin.
Shivers ran up her arms.

“
No, they’re not
starbursts.” He continued to touch each mark. “They’re angel
kisses. It’s like angels kissed your hands all over.” His eyes rose
to meet hers. They were filled with kindness and compassion.
Something she had felt little of the past year.

Only Peter could turn the violent scars from
a devastating accident into something beautiful. He was the
sweetest person she’d ever met. Without another word, he lifted
first one hand and then the other and kissed each little mark on
her tender, scarred hands.

Libby’s mouth opened in wonder. Peter bent
over her damaged hands. His soft lips pressed to them. His warm
breath tickled her skin as his lips gently moved. Goosebumps danced
up her arms and her stomach flipped. Never in her life had she felt
this way. His tender kisses were heaven. She never wanted this
moment to end. For once she thanked God for the ugly scars.

Peter looked up, her hands cradled in his,
as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. His eyes, a deep pool
of liquid brown, melted into hers. Libby’s breath slowed. Today her
world was perfect. This beautiful boy held her captive. His
expression confirmed he felt the same. They leaned their heads
closer, just inches apart.

Something moved out of the corner of her
eye.

“
Ouch! Crap.”

They looked up just in time to see Peter’s
brother Adam slip down the side of the boulder, and drop his fancy
camera in the process.

“
What the?” Peter
exclaimed. They jumped away from each other as if guilty of some
terrible act. Adam, crouched at the bottom of the large boulder
checking his camera for damage.

“
Adam, what the hell are
you doing?” Peter yelled, their moment shattered.

“
Looking for you, nimrod.
Dad’s really pissed. You were supposed to be back an hour
ago.”

“
Shit,” Peter said under
his breath.

Adam resumed his picture taking, focusing on
Libby and Peter.

“
Stop it.” Peter reached
for the camera. “Don’t make me break that thing.”

“
Hey, I’ve got some great
stuff here, this new lens is amazing. I’ve heard the paparazzi use
this type too. I got it all, Peter, including your nose hairs. You
should really trim them.” Adam ducked out of Peter’s reach before
he could get smacked.

“
Libby, please excuse my
“little” brother. As you can see he is mentally
challenged.”

“
Hi.” Libby said, mortified
to be discovered at such a vulnerable time.

Adam flashed her a huge grin.

“
Adam here is going to
hightail it back to the bus and tell them I’m on my way. That way I
won’t have to break his fingers. Right?” Peter stood and glared at
his brother.

“
Dad would be pretty ticked
if you did that. Plus, who’d play lead for you, so you don’t go off
key all the time.”

“
Libby, can you find me a
rock? I need to throw it at Adam?”

“
Geez, you really know how
to spoil a party,” Adam complained.

Peter faked a throw.

“
I’m going, I’m going.”
Adam turned and hurried down the trail, occasionally jumping from
one large rock to another, his camera held tightly.

Peter turned to her.

“
I’m so sorry. My family is
the worst. They drive me nuts.”

“
It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
Libby smiled. She would give anything to have a family again.
Especially one like his.

“
We better get going. My
dad hates to be kept waiting.”

They rushed back, covering the ground in a
fraction of the time it took to get there. Peter took her hand
often to help her over large boulders that blocked the path.

When they arrived at the break in the woods,
the engine of the grand tour bus rumbled impatiently. Adam leaned
against a tree, futzing with buttons on his camera.

“
This was great,” Libby
said. She hated to see it end. The day was glorious.

“
Hey, we head back down to
Chicago on Saturday. I can’t promise anything, but I bet I can talk
my mom into a stop here. Any chance you could meet me? Can I call
you?”

First excitement, then panic, hit. Visions
of Aunt Marge answering the phone filled her mind. “No, you can’t
call. I’m sorry.” She softened. “But I can be here. I’ll wait for
you.”

“
No phone either, huh?” He
winked. “It’ll probably be around lunchtime, I’m sorry I can’t give
you an exact time.” He spoke fast, looking to the bus every few
seconds. “I’ll meet you at that flat rock outcropping where I found
you today.”

“
I’ll be there.” She would
wait all day if need be. Anything for another chance to see Peter.
His gaze gave her such hope.

“
I’ve gotta run.
Bye.”

“
Bye.”

Peter jogged easily across the field toward
the bus, Adam at his side.

“
Sorry to interrupt back
there. Looks like you were about to get some.”

Peter shoved him away. “Shut it.”

Chapter 4

The next day Mr. Hursley gave final
instructions to the class.

“
Be sure to save your work
often, the network has been acting up again, and it would be a
shame to have the best Homecoming flyer Rockville High ever fall
victim to a cyber death.”

He took a cursory lap around the room to
make sure everyone was on task. The tap of keyboards in action
filled the room. Satisfied, Mr. Hursley eased into his desk chair,
adjusted his outdated bifocals and settled into the sports
section.

Libby eyed the people around her. To her
right sat two stuck-up girls who believed the world revolved around
them. The drama queens scooted their chairs tight together and
whispered under the hum of two dozen computers. On her left lounged
basketball star, aka chick magnet, Tom West, his incredibly long
legs stretched far beneath the table. He peered toward the
teacher’s desk, where Mr. Hursley buried himself behind the
newspaper. Tom slid on tiny earphones and began nodding to the beat
of unheard music. How Tom manipulated the tiny ipod with his giant
hands, Libby couldn’t fathom.

With everyone’s attention elsewhere, she
hunched closer to the keyboard, clicked on the internet icon and
typed in “Google”. Instantly the screen popped up, startling her.
Most kids spent hours surfing the web. The only time Libby touched
a computer was to work on school assignments during class. Aunt
Marge would never own something as progressive as a computer; she
lived in the Dark Ages. For the first time in many months, Libby
was motivated to break the rules a little and play on the web.

Her nerves betrayed her as her hands began
to shake. She pulled away from the keyboard as if burned. This was
silly. She never broke the rules and this was so simple. She wasn’t
defacing school property. She wanted to know more about Peter and
the information was just a few keystrokes away.

She took a deep breath and rested her arms
on the desk. With nervous concentration she clicked on the search
box and typed.

“
Peter
Jamieson.”

Seeing his name on the screen, even though
she put it there, brought him to life as if he sat right before
her. She drew her hands away. Why was she nervous? She’d worked
hard not to care about anything anymore, but now she wanted this so
badly, her stomach hurt.

She bit her lower lip, reached out with her
right index finger and pressed enter.

4,710,084 items in 0.23 seconds.

Libby’s jaw dropped. A list displayed item
after item and most included a photo of Peter or Peter with his
brothers.

She leaned back in the chair, her hand
covering her mouth. Over four million hits! This couldn’t possibly
be right, but there it was, his familiar smile over and over.

Disbelief didn’t begin to express her
emotions. It made no sense. Why would the boy on the screen want to
be her friend? What would a guy like Peter see in her? Was she
going nuts? No, she still remembered the touch of his lips on her
hands. It was insane

She leaned forward, oblivious to the world
around her and began to read the headings.

Peter Jamieson, official fan site.

Peter Jamieson, Song Writing Genius, Strikes
Gold with New Album.

Peter Jamieson Along with Brothers Garrett
and Adam, Kick Off Sold-Out Triple Threat Tour.

Peter Jamieson Visits Kids at Tulsa
Children’s Hospital.

Peter Jamieson, Lead Singer of the Band
Jamieson, Rocks Denver.

Libby reached for the mouse to advance the
page.

“
Miss Sawyer, that doesn’t
look anything like a homecoming flyer.”

She jumped in her seat, knocking her knee
against the table leg, then whipped around. Mr. Hursley stood
planted behind her, arms crossed. Libby swallowed.