Soul Fire (20 page)

I nodded, catching sight of Anika flying into the room. “Ashla, Ashla!” She came at me, arms wide open, her brown eyes bright with glee. She struck hard and fast, her short arms encircling my legs with a hug that threatened to cut off the circulation. I bent over and picked her up, holding her tight. No issues with her energy level. “Hey, Little Lady. Wazup?”

She giggled. “Me!” Her joy and happiness revived my soul. What would we do in this family without our sweet Anika to remind us that life is truly good, even when things weren’t the greatest? I took a deep breath. We would all get through this. Somehow.

I gave Mom a hug, and picking up the backpack I’d left in the hallway, I stuffed my feet into my shoes, and went out the front door. Nothing prepared me for what I saw. Celeste had backed her car up in front of my house. The engine was idling, windows were down, and Adele’s latest hit drifted up the walk. Brenna and Tara were singing along and smiling at me from the back seat.

“Are we all going to Huntley?” I asked sliding into the passenger seat, my worries about being a new girl, vanishing.

Brenna answered, clipping a fresh rose in her hair. “Of course. What do you think? Our parents did the transfers last week right after you made it official.” She reached across and grabbed my shoulder. “United we stand.”

I was so choked up I couldn’t respond, but I knew I was lucky to have friends like Celeste, Tara, and Brenna. Celeste turned the car northward and we hummed along to the radio until we slid into the student parking lot fifteen minutes later. The four of us went directly to the office and waited nervously for our class schedules. The principal reassured us, saying, “You won’t have any issues here at Huntley. Our school is an anomaly, as you’ll soon learn. So, welcome!”

Brenna hooked her arm in mine. “Here goes nothing,” she said as we ventured down the locker-lined corridor. John Huntley was a scholastically elite high school that consistently outscored all others in the state. Students were fiercely competitive and focused. There were no gangs and no wannabes. Suddenly, I had high hopes for us. We had good grades. Maybe this would work out after all.

Justin was late. That had never happened before. Celeste was already in the pool working with her patient. I waited impatiently, my fingers tapping nervously on the stainless towel stand, my fears threatening to disable me.

A stressful fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the change room ready for the water. His crutches hesitated on the deck. His eyes caught mine and he stopped and appeared to assess me.

He had never done that before either. Had he figured it out? Had he guessed who I was? My stomach tipped and my insides twisted into painful knots. What would I tell him? How would I explain it? I had made no plan for this eventuality, as I simply didn’t want to deal with it. I had desperately hoped it would never happen.

By the time Justin reached me, I was shaking. To cover that up, I made a fast move toward the pool. He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me back to him.

Hooking his crutches under his arms, he said, “Look at me.” His deep voice echoed across the vast domed room, his words clipped and foreboding. I wanted to run—to prevent what was coming. When I failed to look up at him, he hooked his forefinger under my chin, lifting my face. I kept my eyes down.

“Look at me.” Softer this time.

I summoned my courage, inhaled deeply, and tried to prepare for what was coming. I felt ill and swallowed back down the orange I had eaten earlier. When my eyes met his tranquillizing blue ones, I saw in them questions and mistrust. I tried not to cringe as those eyes traveled slowly down my nose to my mouth, back up to my eyes, and finally over my hair, or rather, my wig. He ran a forefinger across my cheek and I stopped breathing. Then, his hand went to my hair and his fingertips tugged my short black locks. Instinctively, I tried to free myself, but he held me firmly with his other hand.

Then he pulled at my wig. “Take it off.”

I looked back up to find him staring down at me intently. I couldn’t do what he asked. It would be like bearing my soul. Again, I tried to peel away from him, but his grip was powerful. Desperate to flee the situation, I struggled to free myself, but it was pointless.

“Stop,” he said and putting both hands on my shoulders, he positioned me directly in front of him. We were chest to chest.

“Take it off.”

The fight was gone from me now. He had figured it out. Despondently, I unpinned the wig and let it fall into my hand. My own hair was pulled up into a fat knot. Gently, he pulled out the elastic, and I felt my curls explode around my face and down my back. He ran his hand over my natural hair, and then grasped it between his fingers, feeling the texture. “Take out the contacts.”

I swallowed and bent my head to remove them, knowing I would never wear them again. I stayed half bent like that, my eyes squeezed shut until he pulled me upright. Then he tilted my head up and I straightened reluctantly.

Again our eyes met, my green ones, unprotected now, looking into his clear blue ones for a hint of what was to come. I searched for a sign of anger and saw instead a mix of emotions.

His voice was barely audible, “Why the disguise?”

I shook my head, unable to find my voice.

He was waiting for an answer.

“Ashla,” his voice hushed. “Please answer me.”

I cleared my throat. “I wanted to help you.”

He waited for me to say more, but when that didn’t happen, he said, “I don’t understand. Why pretend you're someone else?”

“Because,” I began shakily, “I didn’t think you’d let
Ashla Cameron
near you.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because,” I blurted out, “I was the one who hurt you!”

He shook his head. “I still don’t get it.”

I sniffed miserably. “I screwed up so badly that day on Blackcomb. This was the only way I could think of to make it up to you. I wanted to help you walk again.”

He seemed troubled by that and released me. “So okay, maybe you felt you needed the disguise at first, but how could you keep coming here like that, time after time. I mean, we became friends. In fact, I thought we had become more than friends.” He turned away, obviously distressed. “So, what was that? Was that a fraud too?”

I stepped back in shock. “A fraud?” I choked. “You see me as a fraud?”

“What do you call it?”

A fraud!
My entire body recoiled involuntarily. I staggered backward, then turned and walked quickly away, not stopping until I was inside the change room. I came to a stop in front of the sink, panting as if I’d run a mile. I stared at my image in the mirror, berating myself.
The whole idea had been ridiculous. Of course he would figure out who I was, and now he thinks I'm a fraud!

My world was cracking. Helping Justin had been a way to make up for what I’d done to him and that made it possible for me to continue to live my life and be who I was. Now what?

The terrible ache in my chest wasn't simply a result of being found out. It was something more. It was the one very thing I had hidden from myself these past months. I really
like
d
Justin. He was on my mind constantly . . . and not because I worked with him in the pool. It was more than that.

How stupid! Why had I let that happen? I had no chance with a guy like Justin . . . no chance whatever. What was I thinking!

Angrily, I tossed the wig and contacts into the trash, threw my clothes on over my dry bathing suit, grabbed my backpack, and raced from the building, blocking out all thoughts. I swept past the front of Celeste’s Cavalier and turned down the city sidewalk, heading to nowhere.

The faint scent of lavender drifted by my nose. I pushed deeper beneath my comforter and yanked it over my head. I was supposed to get up, shower, dress, have breakfast, and face the world like nothing had happened. But I just couldn’t. Not today. Not tomorrow either. Maybe not ever.

Minutes ticked by, but Mom didn’t say a word. We waited each other out until finally I groaned, “Go away.” No response. I began to worry that maybe something had happened to Dad and that was why she had not answered me. I flipped the comforter back and sat up to find Mom perched on the chair over by my small desk. Her eyes settled on me and I could tell from the clarity in them that this was not about Dad. Not at this moment anyway. I fell back, dropping the comforter back over my face. “Go away,” I repeated. “I’m not going to school. Tell Celeste to go on without me.”

“Tell me yourself.” It was Celeste.

I pushed the comforter off my face and sat up on one elbow. Celeste was leaning against my bedroom doorjamb, running the knuckle of her forefinger across her bottom lip as she considered me. “I told your mom that you probably wouldn’t feel like going to school today and that I was worried about you. Now she’s worried too.”

I let my legs slide off the mattress. My bare feet hit the hardwood floor, and I sat up groggily, looking from one to the other. I had slept very little as recurring dreams of Justin kept waking me. “Can’t you both just leave me in my misery?”

“Never,” Celeste said emphatically. She gave my mom a pointed look. Always sensitive to Celeste, Mom absorbed it, glanced back at me, and slipped from the room. Celeste closed the door and pulled the chair in front of me, then sat down. Her expression was harsh. “We need Plan B,” she said curtly.

“Ha, forget it. No more insane plans.”

“Exactly. It has to be really good this time. I’ve already got it worked out.”

I studied her to see if she was joking. “I’m not in the mood. Please. Go on to class. Leave me to sort out my pathetic life.” I was going to say more, but was interrupted by a faint knock. The bedroom door opened and Brenna slid through the crack, closing the door quietly behind her. She looked from Celeste to me. “I shut off the engine. Tara will be up in a minute. Figured we’re hanging out here today.”

The door re-opened a couple of minutes later. It was Tara. “Hey, I’ve got donuts.”

I shook my head. “You guys are all nuts. How’s a person supposed to wallow in self-pity with all this ruckus going on? Ever hear of giving a person a little
space?”

“
Space.”
Tara repeated. “Hmmn. You mean the astral kind or the leave me alone kind? What would you do with it anyway? Wallow? Grow more depressed? Start thinking
unthinkables
? Hmmn? We’re not going to stand by and let any of that happen. After all, as they say, what are friends for?” She opened the box of donuts, reached in, and pulled out an oblong, freshly iced chocolate covered treat. She held it under my nose. “Here.”

I took the sticky indulgence and wondered what to do with it. I wasn’t hungry and it was too icky to put down anywhere. I held it gingerly between my thumb and forefinger.

Tara passed the box around and then sat down beside me on the bed. Brenna plunked down on my other side. I was boxed in. “I give up,” I said taking a bite. “What’s Plan B?”

Celeste licked her fingers. “I go to Justin’s house and finish what I started with him when we went for coffee the other day. Remember, I told you that he offered to help with the stuff that’s been going on at our old school? Well, he’s not the kind of guy to go back on his offer, so I figured I’d drop by and talk to him. See what he’s come up with.”

Brenna added, “and maybe while you are there, you can explain what Ashla was trying to do for him. I mean, she was only trying to help him. She dedicated herself to his pool therapy for months. Pretty good of her, if you ask me.”

Tara nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’d think he’d been blown away by it—"

I interrupted. “Oh, he was. Totally.”

Tara wiped chocolate from her fingers. “How many chicks would do something like that? You’d think he could forget the getup and see your efforts for what they were.”

I gave Celeste a long look. Obviously, she had brought them up to speed on my last day with Justin. She caught my look and shrugged. “We’re best friends, remember? We do what we have to do. You’d do the same.”

I made a face. True. But still. I rubbed the lack of sleep from my eyes. “Is that it then? That’s our Plan B?”

Celeste swallowed her last bite. “You come up with something better.”

I had zero ideas. “When will you do this?”

“Justin really likes you, Ashla. I mean it may even go deeper. I’ll let him stew over the whole thing for a day or so. Then, when he’s in full regret mode, I’ll drop by. If I get lucky, I might even come up with some good ideas by then. I’m a little dry right now.” She looked from Tara to Brenna to me. Seemed like we were all a bit dry.

Brenna licked her fingers. “Mmnn. That was good. So, what’s the plan for today? Are we up for class?”

We showed up for second period after making our excuses at the office. For me, it was English and it had started ten minutes earlier. I had gotten to know absolutely no one and felt extremely timid walking into the class. All eyes turned to me. I knew it in a heartbeat. They weren’t looking at me because I was late. Their eyes held accusations, distain, and anger. A rod of fear ripped through me.
No! Not again. Please!

I sat down at an empty desk at the back of the room and their eyes followed. How had they found out?
Google? The web? Hate pages? Gossip?
Did it matter? I knew one thing. I had to leave before this class ended. I couldn’t go through this again. What had happened over the past months at Mount Olympic would last me a lifetime. I’d never forget it. And I’d be lucky if I ever got completely over it. Being singled out, called unspeakable names, physically hurt, attacked, and the target of horrible webpages was leaving scars so severe, I thought they’d show forever.

I waited until the class was busy working on assignments and then backed silently out of the room. Halfway down the corridor I thought I heard footsteps behind me, but didn’t stop to look. One person or two? I half ran to the exit door and had almost made it through when a male voice called out behind me, “Hey. You’re the chick who did in Justin Ledger. What are you doing at Huntley? You got the right idea. Get out. Go back to your own school. We don’t need scum like you at our school.”