Between These Lines (A Young Adult Novel) Page 5

  Shane paid well. And it wasn’t with anything green. If I was correct to guess, it would be white, powdery and extremely illegal. It also meant I just discovered Ty’s source. Shane.

  I looked up to see Evie give a little wave. She mouthed out “sorry” and pointed to her phone. How much did she know about Shane and his world of lies? I felt the need to protect her, and edged my way around the kid at the table, eager to get away from his bloodshot eyes.

  “Everything alright?” I asked Evie moments later.

  Evie sat down across from me and picked up the book of poems she had been reading before her phone went off.

  “Yeah, fine,” but the book soon found its way onto the table again. “No, not really, it was my dad. He’s working late and my mom isn’t home yet to pick me up. Looks like I’m stuck taking the bus.”

  “I’ll take you.” There was no question about it.

  Her soft eyes stared at me from across the table. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. Besides, I really don’t mind. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

  “No way, I insist. Besides, it’ll be late by the time we get out of here.”

  A smile tugged at her lips, and before long, she nodded in agreement and we got down to business, paging through the chapbooks and taking turns on the Internet to get our timeline underway. By eight-thirty I lugged my backpack, twelve pages of completed and printed material for our project, and three novels Evie convinced me to check out, across the parking lot. I pressed the unlock button on my keypad and managed to open the door for her, my eyes still wide at the fact that Evie Cunningham had not only met me at the library, but was also about to let me drive her home.

  We had been driving for all of five minutes. “You’re probably wondering why I don’t have a car, huh?”

  “Well . . . not really. But now that you brought it up.”

  We passed the Wawa and Wegman’s food store on Route 5. I looked over at her delicate face illuminated by the glow of the streetlights. Evie was the most beautiful girl I’d ever known.

  “I figured you might wonder—since we can afford to go to a pretty expensive school and all.”

  “There are a lot of kids who go to Whitley who don’t have their own cars,” I smiled through the windshield. “I only have one because my Aunt Claudie hates to drive at night. Scratch that.

  She hates driving during the day too, but only if it’s raining or snowing. But normally, I walk to school.”

  Evie looked at me a bit confused.

  “Things like cars don’t matter. They don’t make who you are.”

  She was so different tonight compared to the chattier version of herself in the dining hall at school, when she had been driven to pull me out of my quiet shell. Now she was the quiet one, apologizing for things that didn’t matter—apologizing for not having an abundance of Sylvia Plath books, for the phone call from her dad. Now she was apologizing for not having her own car. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her chew her lower lip. Her hands fidgeted, worrying away at the lining of her jacket. “No, I didn’t mean to make you feel . . .”

  She turned her head to me, her eyes shone in the dim light as we drove down the street. “It’s fine,” she reassured. “That’s really nice that you help out with your aunt.”

  I swallowed hard. She didn’t know.

  “It’s kind of more than that. I live with her.”

  I never expected Evie’s silence to evoke such feeling inside me. It was as if there was a bubble, swelling to burst, and I could no longer contain it.

  “My parents had an accident a few years back. My Aunt Claudie’s taken care of me ever since.”

  I didn’t need to spell it out for her, to tell her they were dead. Her hand reached out and pressed its warm weight over mine.

  “Chase. I’m so sorry.” And the catch in her voice nearly did me in.

  I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, as if inflicting a new pain would stop the old one from coming back. I wasn’t prepared for her reaction. I never saw it coming, and sure enough, I wasn’t prepared for what her reaction would do to me.

  “I never knew the whole story,” she whispered.

  “Yeah. Well, most people at school don’t.” It was one thing to know others thought I was strange, or a freak, but I needed Evie to know they only felt that way because I let them. I had no desire to fit in, and somehow, to everyone else, that was wrong.

  “How old were you?”

  “Eleven,” I whispered, astonished at the hoarseness of my own voice. The truth, the reality, had been buried so far inside me that over time it had become harder to bring it forth on my own. But telling Evie the slightest bit of my past was like opening a floodgate. It all rushed back.

  The car loped down the street, bringing us closer to her house. It was a typical rich neighborhood with typical rich homes; big lawns and big mailboxes, and an air of money surrounding them. Her house was shrouded in darkness as we pulled up along the curb in front. It was obvious her parents weren’t home yet.

  Swiveling in her seat, Evie faced me in the dark. My heart thumped loudly in my chest. I could see her wanting to give the obvious thanks for the ride, but I could detect a little more, as if the two hours we’d spent in the library comparing poems and books, collaborating on the paper, happened days ago instead of an hour. Now, a conversation neither of us expected tonight had surfaced, bringing with it a veil of awkwardness and closeness.

  “Thanks for driving me home.”

  The word anytime was on the tip of my tongue, but I felt too anxious to speak. The urge to kiss her goodnight was overwhelming. I peered over her shoulder as she fumbled for her keys. Black windows stared back at me and in an instant I was out of the car and opening the door for her.

  “No one’s home yet?” I asked, eyeing the dark driveway that curved its way behind the house.

  “They both work late.”

  Evie’s shoulders shrugged with the excuse, but her voice implied something else. Resentment? Indifference? I was beginning to hone in on the tiny fact that Evie spent a lot of time fending for herself. I followed her past the inviting front walk to the side of the house that met the driveway – the side that was blacker than the windows. I was seconds from giving in to the urge in the pit of my stomach, the one that begged me to take her hand in mine as we continued down the drive to the back of the house. My fingers itched to creep around hers, but I ignored the feeling, and shoved my hands firmly inside the pockets of my jacket. Instead, I was inched closer to the arm she swung by her side when suddenly, our elongated shadows flashed across the blacktop in front of us. Evie swirled around and the hand I had wanted to grasp fluttered up to her chest as if containing the stunned heartbeat behind it.

  “Who is that?” I asked stepping forward, closer to her, and I raised my hand to my eyes, shielding them from the bright light in front of us. A car door opened and the sound of footsteps on the driveway followed, revealing nothing more than a tall figure with dark, outstretched arms and a featureless face.

  “What do we have here?” A familiar voiced broke the stillness.

  That anxious feeling I had felt moments ago became leaden and sank straight down to my feet. I knew who it was before she had a chance to let the whisper escape her lips. I knew without a doubt, but she whispered it anyway.

  “Shane.”

  Chapter Ten

  Evie

  “Well, well, well,” Shane’s voice bounded as the searing light from the car’s headlamps created an eerie silhouette of his form. I hadn’t heard his car pull up behind us and nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of him showing up in my driveway.

  “What are you doing here?” The second the words blurted from my mouth, I realized how paranoid I sounded. My hands trembled at my sides and I quickly crossed my arms over my chest. Shane’s unexpected appearance in my driveway did more than startle me, it honest to goodness freaked me out. My head was so full of what Chase had just told me in the car—his parents, the accident
—it left little room for anything else. It was all so horrible. All of a sudden the pieces of a strange puzzle slid together—why he was so introverted, why he never sought the company of friends or groups at school, and hid from all the unexplainable atrocities the world brought when one least expected it.

  And right now I wanted nothing more than to be back inside his car, learning more about what made his life such a secret—and to help him work it through.

  Shane knew Chase and I were working on a project together. I hadn’t lied about that. But I shivered when I thought about what Tara could have told him—that was the only reason he showed up here tonight. I knew how his mind worked. He wanted to see if I would only give

  Chase the time of day during school. He was testing me.

  Fine. Test me then, and I lifted my chin a little higher.

  “Your dad called my cell phone, worried you might need a ride home from the library, but I see you’ve found one.” His eyes veered toward Chase, and sized him up. I wasn’t sure what he could make out in the dark, but it was an effort to make Chase feel inferior to him, that was certain.

  “I didn’t even know my dad had your number.”

  “No, you didn’t. I made sure he had it. You know, just in case.”

  My skin prickled. It was typical Shane Whitley, to hold something over someone, even if that someone was supposed to be his girlfriend. I felt the pangs of betrayal and confusion, that my dad would be connected to Shane without my knowledge. My parents weren’t around much, but if I had to choose which one I felt closer to, it would definitely be my dad. He worked hard for us. He loved us, even when my mom didn’t return it, or seem to deserve it.

  “I was just seeing her home,” Chase stepped forward.

  My eyes slowly adjusted to the night around us, making it easier to see the rigid stance each boy held.

  Shane came closer, “I can take it from here.” Was he challenging Chase? Vying for what he believed to be his?

  Was I his?

  I took a second to take a good look at Shane. Even in the dark he appeared strong, authoritative. It was attractive to me once. Was it still? I let the question stew inside me as I looked back at Chase, who remained firm by my side. I knew if I addressed this question right now, so much could be at stake—so much had the potential to change.

  Chase glanced over. I could almost see the question in his eyes. Would I be alright? I gave the slightest of nods. Though practically imperceptible, it seemed to satisfy him.

  “I’ll finish the timeline,” I offered, feeling the weight of the borrowed books in the bag hanging from my shoulder. “Thanks for the ride home.”

  I watched as he stepped hesitantly past the glow of the Aston’s headlights, to where his own car was parked at the curb, and then, he was gone. His car door closed. The engine started.

  And the sound of him driving away shattered me.

  There was a tug on the strap of my bag as Shane pulled me toward the house. It snapped me back into reality. My keys jingled in my hand as I felt for the right one that would unlock the back door to the kitchen and, suddenly, I felt uneasy to be alone with him.

  “My parents will be home any minute, so . . . thanks for making sure I got in.” I hinted heavily that he could leave, but it was more like mentally dismissing him. Job’s done Shane. Go. Shoo. But instead of leaving me at the doorstep, he followed closely, slipped the bag from my arm and placed it inside the doorjamb before flipping the light switch on for me.

  “Your dad said he would be late.”

  “Yeah well,” I bit my lip. “My mom promised to be home by nine.” From this angle, half in and half out of the kitchen, I couldn’t quite see the clock hanging on the wall near the refrigerator.

  Shane tilted his wrist for a better view of his watch. The slim slice of light that stretched onto the porch floor gave him just the right amount, but in that light he looked different. Not quite himself. I dismissed it. He was upset at my night out with Chase. He was mad, and I was paranoid. “It’s nine-ten and your dad said she texted him saying she’d be late too.”

  I was angry that Shane had more information of my parents’ whereabouts than I did, and I turned and stomped inside, throwing my bag of books onto the counter, paying no mind that they weren’t mine and could seriously be bent now. Another tiny, disturbing fact seeped into my head, and it was something I couldn’t ignore. There was no way two people could discuss wallpaper samples for seven hours straight.

  Shane leaned against the open door, letting the night air flood the house, but I didn’t care. I could still hear my mom’s laughter from the living room when I came home this afternoon, and felt my insides tighten.

  He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled his face into the back of my neck.

  “Shane, come on.” But he must have mistaken my sighs for needing him and I pushed him off gently, careful not to let him think too hard about my reluctance, and get mad. That would be a huge mistake. I’ve seen Shane’s fits and they weren’t pretty.

  I wasn’t in the mood for Shane’s company tonight and was walking on eggshells with all my thoughts at this point. I felt bitter that he scared Chase away when Chase was only being sweet and chivalrous and honest with me. I was mad at my parents for leaving me for hours on end and for always assuming I was in safe hands with Shane whenever they weren’t around for me to count on them. And why? Because he went to a fancy school and had money? I was mad at Shane for assuming he was welcome in my house any time, that he could put his hands all over me whenever he wanted. It was a huge list that suddenly took me by surprise, but also put everything important into perspective. Something I hadn’t stopped to take a good, hard look at before.

  “You left your car lights on.” I craned my head away from his touch, forcing myself to peer out the sheer curtains at the kitchen window that overlooked the driveway.

  Shane’s hand left my side and reached into his pocket, pulling out the Aston’s keyless remote. With the press of a tiny button, the driveway promptly went dark and the low hum of the car’s engine settled to a peaceful rest.

  “Shane, I’m tired. I still have homework to do.”

  He slowly but firmly pushed his way into the kitchen, leaving me no choice but to make room for him to clear the door, and watch as he closed it behind him.

  “You mean you didn’t do your homework at the library? Whatever were you doing there, Evie?” His lips found my jaw, and in moments, his fingers were at the buttons of my shirt.

  “Shane stop,” but my plea only egged him on.

  “I told you I could tutor you. Come on Eves . . .”

  His warm breath in my hair sickened me. There was a time, just months ago, when I would have eagerly looked for an excuse to have Shane Whitley alone in my house, but now . . .

  With a final shove, I pushed myself away from him. He looked at me with the smirk I had seen all too often on his face, and noticed how red his eyes were—as if he was extremely tired, or catching something.

  “I went to the library,” he murmured.

  My heart skipped. You have nothing to hide. You were researching for the paper.

  “I didn’t see you there,” I admitted, trying to hide the way my voice quivered, but images of

  Chase and I deep in conversation ran through my mind. There were several moments when our heads were bent close to one another as we scanned the same paragraph, searched the same website, admired the same poem. Could Shane have seen that? Did it matter if he did? Anyone working on a project with a partner would have appeared just the same, only . . . I felt like I was beginning to hyperventilate. Working on a paper with Chase was different. It was amazing. He was brilliant, his ideas so insightful and his train of thought dove-tailed mine so perfectly.

  Shane wouldn’t have been able to hear my heart race while we were bent over a book together. He wouldn’t. It was impossible—unless he witnessed how close I lingered to the boy who was supposed to be nothing more than my study partner. To
o close. Unless he noticed how my eyes watched Chase, and how long it took for me to look away.

  In the pit of my stomach I knew that Shane was onto me. He had a gift for finding out the truth about people and making them pay.

  I walked across the kitchen, took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the dispenser on the fridge. Then I rummaged through a small catch-all drawer for the bottle of aspirin my dad kept there, and handed them both to Shane. His eyes were bloodshot.

  “I had to go there anyway,” he said, taking the glass and letting me drop the aspirin into his open hand. “I had to pick something up.”

  This didn’t sound like him at all, but I played along. “What did you pick up?”

  I watched as Shane tossed the two pills back as if they were invisible and swallowed them without the water I had just handed to him. He made it look so easy.

  “Ty was finishing something up for me.”

  I stared at him in disbelief.

  “You paid Ty to write a paper for you?”

  “Yeah, it’s no big deal. Sometimes when the guys and I get bogged down, Ty comes through for us.”

  “And how much does he charge?”

  “I made it worth his while,” he replied, avoiding my eyes.

  “Did you pay him enough to clog his nose?”

  Shane shot me a look. I wasn’t going to play dumb and act like I didn’t know Ty was a druggie, or that he supplied a number of kids who went to go to our school. After all, weren’t prep schools notorious for dealing and getting away with it? There had to be other ways to play with daddy’s money, and this seemed to be the good old standby.

  “You know you just supported his habit even more.” I knew full well I was digging a very deep hole for myself. “So I guess the whole role model approach you were going for wore off for the night?”