Stolen (3 page)

His uncle was never questioned nor charged for any
involvement in the crime. He shot himself in the police station’s parking lot
before they had time to bring him in. It was obvious that was his way of
turning himself in, an attempt at redemption for being the reason behind the
crime; or maybe just a coward’s way out.

 Most people in town were furious that he had
taken the easy way out, but were happy enough that everyone involved had been
punished in one way or another. Memorials for both Luke and his mother were
erected, vigils were held, but life moved on and sad talk “over the great loss
we as a whole had suffered from”, the statement made by everyone in town,
dwindled and soon the talk of Luke and his mother was laid to rest right along
with their bodies.

Not for me, though.

I think about Luke so often that it feels like he’s
still alive. I see him waiting for Cass behind the school. I see him hanging
out with the four of us eating ice cream, and I think about him and me on his
doorstep living in oblivion from what was on the other side of his front door.
His mother was probably already dead and he was next. That’s the memory my mind
likes to put on replay.

Rogan won’t tell me what happened between him and Luke’s
uncle. I try not to dwell on that day, I really do, but when I think about
Luke, my mind always goes there. I think about what more we could have done,
then I think about what Rogan might have known and what he might have been able
to do that I couldn’t have.

There are some days that I’m so angry at the world for
what happened to Luke that I need an outlet to unleash my anger on and, more
often than not, that’s Rogan, and he lets me. He lets me yell at him. He lets
me blame him, then, when I’m crying so hard I can barely breathe, he lets me
hold onto him like the rock I so badly need, catching me before I sink
completely. He tells me over and over that he loves me and that he’s sorry, so
sorry, but he still won’t tell me what happened, what had been said.

Why won’t he just tell me what he knows? Wouldn’t that
make it easier on him to let it out? Maybe I wouldn’t be so angry with him, or
at least have a valid reason to be angry.  I think Rogan knows what I can
and can’t handle; I think that’s why he won’t tell me, and while I still find
myself angry with him sometimes, I’ve found peace with only knowing what I
know, nothing more, and maybe that’s a gift from Rogan to help me move on.
Maybe in my being angry, in my trying to uncover a truth, I’m actually trying
to betray an unspoken trust between Luke and him, and that trust consisted of
Rogan taking Luke’s secrets to the grave.

Or, I’m being dramatic, frightened, and childish in
thinking there’s some great secret I’m being left in the dark on. Either way, I
love Rogan for being so loyal to Luke and for being my best friend when I’m
such a basket case.

Present
day . . .

“So . . .” Kyle’s staring at me expectantly, rocking
on his heels. I guess I should say something, but what? What had we been
talking about? I must look crazy, but sometimes no matter how hard I try, my
memories become reality, and I find myself dazing off into the past, which I
think is exactly what just happened.  

I need to get away and try to salvage some of my
dignity. “Well, it was great running into you. I’ll see you in class.” I turn
away from him and his gaze only to hear him say,

“You actually didn’t run into me, unlike that poor old
lady, but if you ever
do
feel like running into me, just let me know and
I’ll make sure I’m standing in front of you.”

I refuse to turn around, but I can hear the smirk in
his voice. He’s such an ass—an attractive, funny, almost taken ass.

Keep walking, Jess. Just keep walking.

I have no idea if he returns to find Rachel, but when
I’m in my car and safely on my way home I breathe a sigh of relief at getting
away from him before Rachel saw us together. I’ll have to do my best to avoid
him, which isn’t going to be easy, but I can do this. I don’t have time for
these kinds of thoughts, and I’d like to keep a friend instead of alienating
myself as the girl who will stab a friend in the back by going after her love
interest.

Okay. No more thoughts of Kyle, especially about the
dimples he has when he smiles.
Especially not that.
What’s wrong with
me?

No one is home yet when I get home, so I decide to put
my angst driven energy to good use and make dinner. I could be doing what I
told everyone I was going to do and study, but I know there’s no way I could
focus right now, so dinner it is.

 I’m rummaging through the cupboards when I hear
my alert that I have a text message, and once I find the jar of spaghetti sauce
I’ve been searching for, I take my phone off the counter and see Rachel’s name
on my screen, taking a breath, I tap on the message.

Oh my God! What if she did see Kyle
talking to me?

Rachel
: What was up with
you bailing like that? You kinda looked crazy. I didn’t want Kyle to think you
were nuts so I covered and told him you were really into school and liked to
study whenever you could.

Oh great, now I look like a complete geek
with absolutely no life.  It’s irrelevant that I don’t have a life right
now.

Me
: I told you earlier that
I needed to study. I shouldn’t have taken the time I did. I didn’t mean to seem
like I was bailing. It just seemed like you two were hitting it off and
probably didn’t need the third wheel anyway.

Rachel
: Do you think we
were hitting it off? I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, then after you left
he ended up having to go, too, so I didn’t get very far. He’s cute though,
right?

Me:
Yeah, he is. Do
you know him outside of class?

Rachel:
I’ve seen him on
campus and in the cafeteria, but no, that was pretty much the first time we’ve
talked. I think I’m going to ask him to the party Friday at Mike’s house, though.
I have a little black dress I’ve been waiting to put to good use (wink, wink)

Great, he’s moved to black dress worthy.

Me:
Sounds good. But
who’s Mike?

Rachel
: He’s in our
English Lit class. Kyle kinda knows him so I don’t think it’ll be weird if I
just ask if he’s going and tell him I’ll be there. You so have to come with me
and make sure I don’t make a fool out of myself, and besides we need to find
you someone to get you out of the books and into real life!

Just what I need, help my friend get the
guy I want; and how do I not know this person, Mike? I’m in that class, too,
yet I don’t seem to know anyone from it. Maybe she’s right, I do need to get
out and notice the living.

Me:
I don’t have time for a
relationship.

Rachel:
I never said
anything about a relationship! Live a little. This is college. When else will
you be able to be this carefree?

She does have a point, but a random
hookup? Although, maybe a little flirting wouldn’t hurt, and if Kyle were to
see . . .  No! Not yours!

Me:
I’ll think about it.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, she’ll forget about
this by Friday.

Rachel
: Great! And don’t
think you’re getting off the hook. I’m going to nag you all week so that by
Friday you won’t be able to contain yourself. You’re going to be dying to go to
this party!

So much for forgetting
.
I guess I have another three days to hear about this.

Me
: I’ve g2g but I’ll think
about going with you. Ok?

Rachel
: There’s no
thinking. You’re going! Meet for coffee tomorrow? I’m done at 1:30. You?

Me
: 2

Rachel
: Cool. I’ll wait
for you. See ya

Fantastic! Now I’ll no doubt get to hear all about
Kyle and this party and who I should go for or what I should wear.

The boiling of the water in the pot on the stove
brings me back to reality and back to what I’m good at, cooking dinner, taking
care of my family, and focusing on school. Turning down the temperature on the
stove, I put in the pasta, heat the sauce, and let my mind drift to a life
different from this.

Maybe there’s more out there that I should be taking
advantage of? Oh, who am I kidding, of course there’s more. The question is, do
I take a chance and break the mold I’ve been in since I turned sixteen? I’ve
changed so much since then. I’ve become a total recluse. Maybe it’s time I step
back out into the world of the living.

The front door opens and I hear my sister call for me.
Time to see what her day was like and give my mind a rest.

After dinner, and a lengthy conversation with Cass
about a new boy in school who’s “absolutely gorgeous,” her words, not mine, I
collapse onto my bed and close my eyes. It’s so nice to hear her talk about a
boy. I’m so proud of her for trying to move on after what she went through with
Luke.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and I especially hadn’t
meant to sleep for over ten hours, waking up to my sister telling me I’m going
to be late for class, but this is how my day is starting. It’s almost eight
o’clock in the morning! My first class is in 45 minutes, which means I have
less than 25 minutes at best to get ready and get there on time.

I hate running late like this. What happened? I don’t
even feel rested from it; in fact, I feel worse than I did when I laid down. I
grab a granola bar as I’m running out the door and already feel drained without
having my morning caffeine fix.

This day is going to suck!

By the time two o’clock rolls around, I’m a total
grump. No caffeine and only a granola bar as the fuel for the first half of my
day does not a happy Jess make. I feel afraid for Rachel.

I spot her immediately at a corner table and am
relieved to see a second cup of coffee on the table; she’s a saint for already
having ordered mine. As I’m stepping closer, my relief washes away. That cup
isn’t for me.

I must look like a deer caught in headlights as I
stare at Rachel and, who else, but Kyle. There’s still time to turn around. I
can just text Rachel that I got held up in class and couldn’t make it, but I
can’t seem to get my feet to cooperate with my brain, so I watch as Kyle smiles
and Rachel laughs, touches his arm, flips her hair, and giggles. Oh, my God she
actually giggled. I may have to reconsider this friendship after all. How can I
be friends with a girl who does the whole hair flip, touchy feely, giggling
thing?

I have to turn. I have to leave. I have to get away. I
have to pull myself together; that’s what I have to do. I’m acting like a
complete fruitcake, and I must look like one, too, if the looks I’m getting
right now are any indication. I don’t know why people are looking at me like
this. Haven’t they ever seen a perfectly sane girl freak out over seeing a guy
and a girl sitting at a table talking and drinking coffee before?

Okay, I’m going to pretend I never came, pretend I
never saw the guy I like talking with the girl I’m friends with, but would
throw over a cliff if it meant a chance to be the one talking to the guy I like
that she likes and liked first, but who may like me and not her, or who thinks
I’m as crazy as everyone else right now who’s walking so far around me I feel
like I have the plague. Is there a plague that causes stupidity, or at least
one that makes the brain string a long run-on sentence together?

As soon as my feet finally decide to cooperate and
move toward the exit, wouldn’t you know that would be when Kyle would look up
from his cup and directly at me who’s staring directly at him for no apparent
reason.

So much for leaving.

I put a smile on and strut toward their table, and
yes, I did say strut. I’m walking like I’m on a runway, or like I have a stick
up my ass. It’s pathetic either way and not being pulled off very well,
considering I’m in skinny jeans, an old concert tee, and converse sneakers.

Of course Rachel would look like she actually did just
walk off a runway; she has on dark blue flare jeans, a pink, glittery,
spaghetti strapped tank top, and purple heels? Who wears stuff like that to
school? She looks like she should be going out to a club, not a college class.

The only thing I have going for me right now is that I
didn’t wear yoga pants like I was going to do. That might make up for the fact
I haven’t showered, I have no makeup on, and my hair looks like a rat may have
burrowed in and died before it could find a way out.
Great.

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” I say as nonchalantly as
I can in hope that my actions, or lack thereof, a few moments ago won’t be
discovered.

“Not much; where the hell have you been? It feels like
I’ve been waiting forever, but at least I had someone to keep me company.”

Ugh! Did she really have to go making those googly
eyes at Kyle when she said that? This is going to suck just as bad as I was
afraid it would.

“Yeah, sorry; I got caught up, then I didn’t see you
right away.” That probably would have worked better if it were busy like it
normally is in here, but right now it’s actually pretty slow; guess that’s why
people were willing to walk around me before and not use me as a punching bag
to get to the front of the line. I should have paid more attention to my
surroundings before so I could have made up a better lie. Too late now. I can
see neither one believes me, but don’t understand why I would lie about
something so stupid.

“Yeah, um, okay. I guess you get tunnel vision when
you’re in need of caffeine, huh?”

I could hug her right now for covering for my
seemingly strange behavior, but since she’s part of the reason I’m acting this
way, I think I’ll avoid that.

“I’m sorry to say this, but you look like shit, girl.”

Okay, I take back that desire to hug her.

“Seriously? I thought I was pulling this look off
pretty well.” When in doubt, make fun of yourself before anyone else gets the
chance. Hopefully this works because I can’t take being the brunt of any jokes,
especially right now in front of Kyle.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to seem mean; it’s just that you
don’t look like your normal self. Did you not sleep or something?”

“Actually, the problem is, I slept too much. I laid
down last night, just to take a breather, and ended up waking up ten hours
later to my sister telling me I had to hurry up if I wanted to make it to
class. This day hasn’t gotten any better either since I never did get to have
coffee this morning, so I’m sorry if I don’t look great right now,” I say with
an emotionless shrug.

“Did you have any good dreams? At least if you had,
that would make this day better, right?” There’s a twinkle of mischief in
Kyle’s eyes as he picks on me, and I wish I could smack him for what he’s doing
to me right now. Of course, he may not
know
what he’s doing to me and
he’s just teasing me. After all, how would he know that he affects me so much,
or that I did in fact have a mildly interesting dream last night, which may or
may not have starred him in all his glory? I hope my face isn’t giving away
that lustful memory.

“No, nothing of any interest. Too bad because I could
have used a good, heated, R-rated kind of dream last night after the day I
had.” Two can play at this game. But did I really just say an R-rated dream?
I’ll slap myself on the head later for that one. In the meantime, though, at
least I do seem to get a rise, albeit a small one, out of him as witnessed by
the subtle blush rising up his neck right now. I smile to myself.

Trying hard not to laugh, he manages to get out, “Did
you really just say that? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say anything
like that, especially in a normal conversation. Kudos. Well, Jess, who had no
R-rated dreams last night, would you like a cup of coffee, my treat?” he asks
with a smile and a wink.