Stolen (6 page)

Which is totally ridiculous, since Gabe is exactly the kind of guy you’d want your daughter to be dating – straight A student, athletic, super polite, etc.

But it’s not about Gabe. My mom doesn’t think I should be serious with any guy right now. She thinks when you’re sixteen you should be out partying and having fun.

She’s constantly telling me to “be young while I can” and “explore my options.” It’s pretty ironic, actually. Most girls would kill for a mom who wants them to go out and party all the time. But all I want is for her to accept that I’m not into all that typical high school stuff.

“So, Luke,” my mom says, sidling closer to him. I wonder what he thinks about her calling him Luke, when he said his name was Lucas. It’s like when people call me

‘Em’ without asking. I hate that. People shouldn’t shorten your name unless they ask you first. Or unless they know you really well.

I sneak a glance at my phone to see if Gabe texted me again. I wonder if it would be rude to just walk into the house.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” my mom asks.

I look at her, not even trying to disguise the look of horror on my face. Would he like to stay for dinner? Is she crazy? You don’t just go around asking hot guys to stay for dinner.

“Oh, I can’t,” Lucas says. He’s still kneeling down by the pool, testing the chlorine levels. “I have plans. In fact, I’m already late.”

“Plans?” My mom looks interested. “What kind of plans?”

“One of my friends is having a party,” Lucas says. He packs up the chlorine testing kit and stands up. “Pool’s all set.”

“A party sounds wonderful!” My mom turns to me and claps her hands. “Emily, wouldn’t you love to go to a party tonight?”

I feel my face turn hot. One of the curses of being a redhead is that I blush super easy. And everyone around me can usually tell. “No, Mom,” I say, “I wouldn’t.”

“I’m sure Emily wants to stay here and get settled in with her family,” Lucas says, sounding like he’s trying to be diplomatic.

My blush gets even deeper. Great. Now not only is my mom trying to dump me off on some guy I just met, but he doesn’t even want to take me to wherever he’s going.

Not that I blame him. I wouldn’t want to take some stranger to hang out with me and my friends, either. But still. Hasn’t he heard of inviting someone just to be polite?

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “I have to stay here and get settled in. Plus I have to call my boyfriend.”

“Oh, nonsense,” my mom says, waving her hand in the air like what I’ve just said is completely ridiculous. “You should go to the party. Shouldn’t she, Lucas?”

“Um, sure,” Lucas says, giving me a polite smile. “You should come.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” my mom asks.

“Yeah, why not?” Lucas asks. Now all of a sudden he wants me to go? Probably he’s not used to girls turning him down.

“I’d need time to get ready,” I say, trying once again to extricate myself from this situation. “And I’m not even unpacked.”

“All you’d have to do is change your clothes,” my mom says. “You look beautiful already. Doesn’t she, Luke?”

“Sure,” he says, his smile a little strained.

I can tell my mom isn’t going to let this go – she’ll keep pushing and pushing until I give in. I know exactly how she gets when she wants something. I think about it, trying to decide if it’s worth getting into a big fight with her. Maybe the party won’t be that bad. And if I go, maybe I’ll be able to meet some friends here, instead of just having to sit inside all summer, hanging out with my parents and missing Gabe.

“Fine,” I say, sighing. “Just give me a sec to get ready.”

***

I lug my suitcase upstairs, and then pick a bedroom at random. I drop my bag onto the big, comfy looking queen-size bed that’s sitting in the middle of the room. It’s covered with an aqua blue comforter, but I brought my own bedding from home, a pink and chocolate polka-dot spread. I thought it would be good to have at least some of my own stuff here.

I wonder which one of these rooms is Lucas’s. Probably not this one, since I’m sure he doesn’t sleep with an aqua blue comforter. Of course, it’s possible that they changed all the bedding and put all their stuff away before we got here. The thought of sleeping in Lucas’s bed starts to make me feel a little hot, so I push it out of my mind and quickly unzip my suitcase.

I rummage through the tangle of shorts, tank tops, and dresses, wondering what I should wear. What kind of party is this, anyway? Is it the kind you dress up for? Lucas didn’t say anything about dressing up. But this is the Cape. People here are hoity-toity.

Or at least some of them are. Doesn’t that one lady on the Food Network, Barefoot Contessa, live on the Cape? Or is that the Hamptons?

Either way, if Lucas lives in this house, his family must have money. Which probably means that his friends have money. Which probably means that it’s at least a little bit of a high-class party. The only problem is, I don’t really have anything high-class.

Finally, I take a navy blue strapless summer dress out of my suitcase and pull it over my head. I step into a pair of gold wedge sandals, run a brush through my hair, and then get to work fixing the disaster that’s my makeup. I reapply my foundation, line my lips with a pink gloss, and slap a couple of coats of mascara onto my eyelashes.

I’m just about to head downstairs, when I hear it.

Voices coming from downstairs. My parents. They’re talking in these slow, measured tones. The kind of tones they use when they’re fighting. My parents don’t fight like normal people. They don’t yell and scream and throw vases. They talk in tight, quiet voices, so that I won’t hear.

“….have to be careful,” my dad’s saying. “…can’t just let her…”

“…if they own the house…”

“….everyone….suspicious…”

I’m debating whether or not to creep down the stairs so I can hear them a little better and figure out exactly what it is they’re arguing about, when my mom starts to come upstairs.

I step back into my room, and quickly pull my compact out of my purse, pretending to study my makeup.

“Hey!” she says when she appears at the door, trying to infuse brightness into her voice.

“Hey,” I say, doing the same so that she doesn’t know I was eavesdropping.

“So, listen,” she says, sitting down on the bed. “Your father’s worried about you going out tonight.”

“Oh, God,” I say, rolling my eyes. I reach into my suitcase and pull out a small plastic jewelry case. Gabe gave it to me before I left. I open the box and pull out a thin gold chain, then fasten it around my neck. “What’s he so worried about?”

“He just wants you to be careful.” She looks at me, her eyes serious. “He’s not used to you… um, you know, being like this.” She gestures at my body.

And even though she doesn’t say it, I know what she means. My dad’s not used to be me being skinny. Because up until about a year ago, I was fat. Not overweight.

Not chubby. Fat. Very fat. And now I’m not.

“Mom,” I say, rolling my eyes and hoping we don’t have to get into a whole big conversation about this. I always get a little uncomfortable talking about my weight.

Even though I’m not fat anymore, I don’t like talking about body size, or dress size, or the number on the scale. I think it’s a holdover from when I was fat – I always went out of my way to avoid talking about that stuff, and now it’s ingrained into me.

“I lost weight. That doesn’t mean I became stupid. I’m not suddenly going to start drinking or doing drugs or anything crazy like that.”

“No, that’s not….” she trails off, moving her gaze until she’s staring out the window. Her eyes, which were just happy and vibrant while we were outside by the pool, now seem tired and a little vacant. “I’m not talking about drugs.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about….being careful. About who you trust.”

“Mom! I’m not going to just go home with some random person or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I want to ask her why she basically threw me at that Lucas kid, if she’s so nervous about me trusting strangers. But I don’t want to get into it, and besides, I already know the answer. She wants me to be able to have fun and go out.

My dad doesn’t. He still sees me as his little girl.

She gets up and stands next to me, pushes my hair back from my face. “I know you won’t.” She kisses me on my forehead. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I say. I thread a pair of chunky gold hoops through my ears. “So I’ll text you when I get there?”

“Call me when you get there.”

“Okay.”

“Let me give you some money,” she says, “Just in case.”

“It’s okay,” I say, sliding my purse over my shoulder. “I have my debit card.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t use the debit card.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” I see that weird look flash through her eyes, the same look she got when she first saw Lucas in the backyard. “In fact,” she says, “Why don’t you give the debit card to me?”

“What’s going on?” I ask, rummaging through my bag for my wallet. “Are we having money problems?”

I knew we couldn’t afford this house.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. She gives me a smile. “It’s just that we’re getting new cards, and I don’t want you using the old one by mistake.”

She’s obviously lying. She doesn’t want me using the old one by mistake? I mean, that’s not even a good excuse. Does she think I’m some kind of idiot? “Mom,” I say, holding the card out of her reach. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Mom, I’m not stupid.”

“There’s nothing going on!” she says. She’s trying to sound like she can’t believe I’m getting all worked up, but it’s a little too forced, a sure sign that she’s not telling the truth.

“Mom, you can tell me whatever – ”

“Emily,” she says warningly, and holds her hand out.

I sigh. I don’t have time to think about why she’s acting so crazy. And so I hand her the card, deciding I’ll have to worry about it later. I smooth my dress down one more time. And then I head down the stairs to go meet Lucas for my first party on the Cape.

Chapter Two

Lucas

I told my dad I didn’t want to do the stupid pool today, but he gave me attitude and said he wanted the place to look good for the summer tenants.

And now look what’s happened. I’m stuck babysitting this chick because I opened my big mouth about Davis’s party. And I have to follow through on it now because my dad would be upset if I didn’t. He’s always talking about how the best way to get repeat summer rentals is by showing the “tourists” a good time.

While I wait for Emily, I decide to do some extra cleaning of the patio furniture, making sure everything is tidy for our new guests. But even after I’ve put the cushions on the deck chairs and arranged everything, she’s still not outside. Which isn’t that surprising. Whenever chicks say they’re “just going to change” it takes them about three hours.

I wonder if I can think up an excuse to bail without seeming like too much of an asshole. I scan through my mental rolodex . Suddenly came down with the flu? Too unbelievable. Injured my hand? No visual evidence and I’m not quite ready to break my own finger just to get out of this.

I check my phone and there’s a new text from Davis asking where I am. I text him back that I’ll be there soon. And that I’m bringing a girl.

He’ll love that. Davis is all about the ladies.

Me, on the other hand—well, I’m still trying to forget about Julia. Even the mention of her name is enough to send me into a little bit of a depression. It’s been three weeks since we broke up, but I still keep thinking about her. I’m torn between hoping she’s at the party tonight so I can see her, and hoping she’s not so that I don’t have to deal with it.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Emily says from behind me.

I turn around, startled. “No worries. Ready to go?” I twirl my keys around my finger.

“Sure.” She tries to smile.

This is awkward. I mean, she’s a really cute girl. Redheads aren’t usually my thing, but this girl’s got that Lindsay Lohan vibe going on. She’s hot, no doubt about it.

But ever since Julia I can’t really look at another girl. It’s kind of like she’s ruined me.

We walk out to my truck and I open the passenger door for her, all gentlemanly.

“Thanks.” She gets in the cab and if I check out her ass, it’s just instinct, not because I’m interested.

I get in the driver’s side and start the car. The engine rumbling to life and the cab vibrates as we idle for a moment.

Emily glances at me. “I’m really sorry about this.” She smoothes her dress down over her legs and gives me a nervous smile. “My mom is absolutely mortifying sometimes.”

“Parents,” I say, rolling my eyes.

She sighs. “Parents.” But her tone sounds more worried than exasperated.

“Well, it’s really not a problem,” I say, as I start backing the car out of the driveway. “I mean, I’ve never had a little sister. I’ll show you the ropes around Hyannis.

Could be fun.”

“Little sister?” Her eyes narrow. “How old are you?”

“I’m seventeen.”

“So you’re my age.”

“Right. I just meant— ” I shrug. I was trying to put her at ease, let her know that I have no interest in her romantically, so that she doesn’t have to worry. But obviously she didn’t appreciate the comment. Whatever. If she’s going to be all bratty, hopefully I can ditch her when we get to Davis’s house.

We pull onto the main road. I’ve got the windows down and the warm Cape breeze is blowing through the car. I never get tired of that saltwater sea smell that rolls off the ocean. There’s nothing else quite like it. That and a little music would make the drive almost perfect. Well, except for the fact that there’s a scowling chick in my truck.

Two out of three ain’t bad, anyway. I turn up the volume on my new Kanye West CD and tap my fingers on the steering wheel to the heavy beat.

It’s only a minute or two later that Emily’s yelling at me. “Excuse me!”

I look over at her as we speed along route 6.

“What’s up?” I shout back.

That red hair is blowing all in her face. “Could you roll the windows up?”