Love Me, Love Me Not Page 4

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, moving forward to keep my place in the line.

  “My brother’s dating a girl from Northern Moore. Told me we could score some Molly here.”

  Drugs. Of course.

  “You a Pinecrest girl now?”

  I tug on my T-shirt, wishing I could hide the logo plastered to the front of it. “It was the only placement Sherry could find for me.”

  “We gotta change that. Come with me tonight,” he says, grabbing my hand and trying to tug me out of line. “No one will find you.”

  “Sherry knows where you live,” I reply, holding my spot.

  “We’ll stay with Axel.”

  Axel is his best friend and supplier. There’s no way I’d ever stay at his house.

  “I can’t, Chase. I’m sorry.”

  “What you mean, you can’t?”

  “I can’t. I need to go to school and graduate. I can’t hide away in Axel’s apartment.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “What kind of lies these people been feeding you?”

  I ignore him, so he continues, “You think you gonna go to college? Get some ritzy job? Ain’t never gonna happen. You’ll end up just like your momma.”

  I feel the sting of tears and have to look away from him.

  He tries to pull me out of line again, but I yank my arm away. “Please, leave me alone.”

  “Never gonna happen,” he repeats, but I don’t know if he’s talking about my future or leaving me alone.

  The person in front of me steps aside, and it’s time to place my order. When I pull out the twenty, Chase’s eyes grow wide. “Add a pretzel and a Three Musketeers to that.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “This isn’t my money, Chase.”

  “Who cares?”

  The price of a pretzel is about the same as the Coke I ordered for myself, so I ask the cashier to swap that out. When she hands me the drinks and food, I pass Chase his pretzel. The cashier tries to give me my change, but Chase grabs the money for himself.

  “Chase, I really need that.”

  “Doesn’t look like it. You’ve got nice clothes and plenty of food.”

  “Please,” I beg. Gigi and Gil are going to think I stole from them and kick me out. The tears finally begin rolling down my cheeks. “Don’t ruin this for me. I need that money back. It’s not mine. I have to return it.”

  “Is there a problem here?”

  The deep voice sounds familiar. I turn to find Brad’s friend Adam coming toward us.

  “No, no problem,” I reply, wiping away the tears.

  “Are you sure?”

  “She said there ain’t a problem,” Chase says, puffing out his chest.

  Adam nods and then licks his lips, as if he’s thinking about his next move. Without warning, he says, “Hailey, I want you to meet my sister. Come on.” He puts his hand around my back and turns me away from Chase. I start to move, but then worry about the money again. I can’t show up empty-handed.

  I stop and look into Adam’s eyes. “He took Gil and Gigi’s money,” I say. “I have to get it back.”

  “How much?”

  “Ten bucks.”

  He reaches into his pocket and then hands me a ten.

  “I can’t take your money.”

  “Think of it as a loan. Pay me back whenever you can.”

  I glance over my shoulder at Chase, whose eyes are shooting daggers at us. There’s no way I’m getting the money from him, so this is my only option. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He shrugs off my comment. “If you’re Brad’s sister, then you’re practically my sister. I’ll look out for you when he can’t.”

  That one little sentence is like a lightning bolt, striking the ground and forming a big old chasm that separates my past from my present. People I met only hours ago are looking out for me, while my boyfriend of a couple years and someone I’ve known practically my whole life is trying to get me into trouble. Again. My shoulders slump with that realization. I’m glad Adam did what he did, but it sucks that Chase was … being Chase.

  I sigh and steal one last look at him. The face I used to find welcoming is downright hostile, and I’m torn. I’d be furious if he walked away with another girl, but this is different. This is about my placement. Shouldn’t he know that? Shouldn’t he want to help me? Isn’t that what a boyfriend is supposed to do?

  Yes, yes, and yes.

  I clench my jaw as the disappointment turns to anger. I want to kick something—Chase, myself—but I know it won’t do any good.

  “My sister is over this way,” Adam says, pointing to the right.

  “Actually,” I say, shaking my head to clear thoughts of Chase, “I should probably get Gil and Gigi their snacks.”

  “Sure thing. How about we find you after the game?”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks again for helping me out.”

  “No problem.”

  I make my way back to Gil and Gigi and then hand them their snacks and Gil his money. He pockets it without even looking.

  “Didn’t you get anything for yourself?” he asks.

  “Gigi and I are sharing the popcorn,” I say.

  “Good,” he replies, and then focuses back on the game.

  I try to pay attention, but I can’t stop thinking about Chase and how angry I am with him. He almost ruined my third placement in three days. If Adam hadn’t shown up, he would’ve.

  It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose.

  Crap.

  I sigh when I realize the problem. He saved me from my mom a million times, and now he’s trying to save me from DSS and my foster homes. It’s sweet in a Chase sort of way.

  The only problem is I kind of want to see what a normal family is like. Once I explain that to Chase, he’ll back off, especially if I promise him we can meet up somewhere after I get settled.

  Feeling like I have a plan, I’m able to enjoy the rest of the game. The Patriots end up winning thirty to seven. True to his word, Adam joins us with a girl who looks a lot like him with dark skin and hair, although hers is pulled into twists with a tie low on her neck. He’s also got a pretty blond girl with him.

  “This is my sister, Abbie, and her best friend, Michelle,” Adam says.

  “Nice to meet you,” I reply. “I’m Hailey.”

  “You’re in my geometry class,” Abbie says. “God, I hate that subject.”

  “Me, too,” I agree, smiling.

  “You’re a senior?” Michelle asks.

  I nod.

  “And in geometry?”

  I nod again, but more slowly this time. I don’t like where she’s going with her comment.

  Confirming my thoughts, she says, “That class is usually for freshmen, like Abbie.”

  “That’s not true,” Adam replies. “There are plenty of upperclassmen in there.”

  “But it doesn’t look good on your college applications,” Michelle says, tipping her head as though she’s letting me in on a big secret.

  I remain silent as her words tear open the earlier wound from Chase. As much as I’d love to go to college, I’m sure Chase was right. There’s very little chance of that ever happening, so it really doesn’t matter what my nonexistent application looks like.

  “Anyway,” Abbie says, breaking the tension, “Adam mentioned you’re living with the Campbells now.”

  I nod again.

  “Looks like I’m your new next-door neighbor, then,” Michelle says with a fake smile. I’m sure the smile I give her in return looks just as fake.

  “We all live in the same neighborhood,” Abbie says, “but the Campbells’ house is the nicest, so we spend a lot of time there. It will be fun having someone new around. It’s kind of boring with just the four of us.”

  “Great,” I say to be polite. Adam and Abbie seem nice, but I’d prefer to spend as little time as possible with Michelle.

  “We’ve got to get going if you want ice cream before your curfew,” Adam says to Abbie.

  “Want
to come with us?” Abbie asks me. “My brother can drop you off afterward.”

  “Sorry, I can’t,” I reply. In addition to having no money, I don’t want to deal with Michelle’s evil glare, which has been on me nonstop since we met.

  “Okay, next time, then. Tomorrow is movie night at Brad’s house. We’ll see you then!”

  “Ready?” Gil asks after they leave.

  “What about Brad?”

  “Coach is very long-winded. By the time Brad showers and the team has their postgame review, we’ll all be home and in bed.”

  I’m glad we don’t have to wait. I’m exhausted and ready to fall into a coma so I can forget about everything for a little while.

  I follow Gigi and Gil out but stop suddenly at the gate when my eyes land on a familiar figure lurking in the shadows under the bleachers.

  Chase.

  CHAPTER 6

  I pause, thinking about what to do. I want to ask him to back off for a while, but not with Gigi and Gil here. I have no idea what he’d say to them. Can I just ignore him, though?

  I’m still undecided when Gigi and Gil go through the gate. Gigi turns around and asks, “Are you coming, Hailey?”

  “Yes,” I finally say, taking long strides toward her. I’ll just pretend I didn’t see him. I do sneak one last peek, but he hasn’t moved. It looks like he has no intention of talking to me or the Campbells, either. I let out a relieved sigh. I’ll call him tomorrow and explain everything so he won’t mess up this placement for me. There’s no way I could handle moving to another home and another school and having to go through all this again.

  We return to the house, and I fall into a deep sleep within moments of climbing into bed. I’m used to sleeping on a sofa, not a queen-size bed that makes me feel like I’m floating on clouds. It’s weird how you never know what you’re missing until you get it. I had plenty of complaints at home, but my sleeping situation never made the list. Now I realize it should have.

  I wake up feeling rested and … optimistic. It’s the first placement where I’ve made it through the night without getting kicked out. Yesterday was tough, especially seeing Chase, but I feel like I might actually be able to make this work. When I roll over and look at the clock, I have to blink my eyes a couple of times to make sure I’m reading the time correctly. How can it already be eleven? I don’t want everyone to think I’m super lazy. They’ve probably been up since the crack of dawn. I need to seem like I fit in.

  I jump up, find a Patriots sweatshirt to throw over my tank top, and step into the hallway. Glancing past the gallery, I see that Brad’s door is closed. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he’s a late sleeper, too.

  Tiptoeing downstairs, I find every room I pass empty. When I get to the kitchen, there’s a note from Gigi and Gil on the counter saying they had to run some errands and Brad is working out. So I was right about all of them waking up at the crack of dawn.

  They also tell me I should help myself to breakfast. I’m sure they weren’t expecting me to wake up closer to lunchtime.

  I open the fridge door, but it feels strange, like I’m snooping, so I close it. I try another door, which turns out to be a pantry, but it’s the same feeling. My fingers tap against the doorknob. I’m starving. I have to eat something. I open the pantry a slit and spot a box of granola bars in the front. My hand darts in, and I grab one in record time, as though my skin will go up in flames if I’m not fast enough.

  Satisfied I have enough food for a few hours, I slip back into the living room. I suppose I could watch TV. The only problem is I don’t see a television. I wander around the downstairs, trying not to feel too nosy, but don’t find one anywhere.

  I’m about to give up and go back to my bedroom when a thumping beat begins pounding through the walls and floor. I follow the sound to a mostly closed door and wonder if I should go through. I knock in case it’s Gil and Gigi’s bedroom, even though they’re not here. When no one answers, I scoot my foot so the door opens a little wider. That reveals even louder music, now with lyrics, and stairs. They must lead to a basement.

  As I go down the carpeted steps, the music grows louder. At the bottom, I find a wide room with a sofa in the shape of a horseshoe, a bunch of beanbag chairs, the most gigantic television I’ve ever seen, a pool table, and a Ping-Pong table. There’s also a small kitchen in the back of the room. To my left is a hallway with two other rooms, one of which seems to be the source of the music.

  I walk in that direction and peer in the open doorway. Standing in the middle of the room is a shirtless Brad with sweat beading up on his muscles.

  Muscles that are much more noticeable today than yesterday.

  He bobs his head in time with the music as he lifts weights, switching between his left arm and his right.

  My eyes move up his back to his dark hair, which is soaking wet and curling around his ears. Opposite him is a mirror, which gives me a nice view of his striking eyes. I’ve never known anyone to have eyes that shade of blue before.

  And they’re intense. He’s focused on what he’s doing, his eyes following each movement. Sometimes his brow furrows and then moments later, it levels out as a hint of a smile appears. It’s as if he’s critiquing every little move he makes, even though they all seem the same to me.

  Without warning, he drops the individual weights on the floor, grabs a long bar with weights attached to each end, holds it squarely on his shoulders, and then squats. Repeatedly. I feel my face redden as my eyes wander to his backside. I’m used to Chase’s nonexistent butt, not Brad’s well-defined, muscular one.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, turning around and leaning against the wall. I cover my eyes with my hand. I have to get it together. Brad is my foster brother. Brother. I cannot be thinking about his butt. Or his eyes. Or his muscular arms.

  This time, it might not be Chase getting me kicked out; I might do it all on my own.

  “Hailey?”

  No, no, no. Did he see me? I want to crawl into a hole and die. This is so embarrassing. I’m a guest in his home, and I was gawking at him during a workout.

  “Hailey?” he says again.

  I’m tempted to make a run for it, but as soon as I take a step, he appears in the doorway.

  “Hey,” he says. “You’re up.”

  I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and I can’t imagine what he’s thinking.

  “I was looking for a TV,” I reply lamely.

  “Over there,” he says, pointing to the television that’s bigger than some cars.

  “Right.”

  “Nice sweatshirt. It was mine from middle school.”

  My face gets even redder with that comment.

  “Have you had breakfast?” he asks.

  “Yes.” I hold up my half-eaten granola bar as proof.

  He frowns. “That’s not breakfast. I’ll be done in a few minutes, and then we can make lunch together. How’s that sound?”

  “Um … fine,” I reply, hoping to end this conversation. I need to go dunk my face in a bowl of ice to get it back to its normal color.

  “Want to keep me company while I finish up?”

  Oh God. Then he’d really see me gawking at his body. I definitely can’t do that. “I should probably shower. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  He strolls back to the weights, and I make a quick exit up the stairs.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m shampooed and buffed with the nicest soap and shampoo I’ve ever used, my skin no longer looks like a tomato, and I’m ready to face him again. I wander to the kitchen and find him at the counter with a variety of meats, cheeses, breads, and condiments laid out in front of him. He’s got one sandwich on his plate and is working on a second.

  He barely looks in my direction before saying, “Help yourself.”

  I take a piece of wheat bread, add a slice of American cheese and a couple pieces of turkey. He finishes making his second sandwich and then pushes the condiments my way. I shake my head as I f
lip the halves together.

  “No mayo?”

  “No.”

  “Mustard?”

  “No.”

  “What do you want? We probably have it.”

  “Nothing, thanks.”

  “You eat sandwiches plain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “It’ll taste like shit.”

  He clearly has never had to struggle to find food if he thinks a plain sandwich is so bad. There have been more times than I care to remember when my only food for the day was a handful of mustard, ketchup, or mayo packets I had managed to snag from a fast-food restaurant. I’m not about to ruin this lunch with tastes that bring back the worst of the worst memories.

  “So, what’s your deal?” Brad asks, leaning against the counter. He bites off some of one sandwich and eyes me, waiting.

  “I’ve got no deal,” I reply. There’s no way I’m getting into what landed me here. He wouldn’t understand. He’s got wonderful parents, loads of money, and great friends. A perfect life. Mine is the exact opposite.

  “Everyone has a deal.”

  “What’s your deal, then?”

  “I’m a textbook only child. I’m spoiled rotten, a classic overachiever, selfish, and have an insatiable need for instant gratification.”

  My jaw drops open. Literally drops open. Who thinks stuff like that? And who would share it with a stranger?

  “Dad’s a psychiatrist,” he says with a shrug. “And I’ll be one, too, someday.”

  He’s acting all casual, but I don’t buy it. “Your choice or his?”

  Brad points his finger at me. “Ahh … you’re pretty insightful yourself. So, are you an only child, too?”

  I notice he fails to answer my question, which probably gives me the answer. I nibble on my lunch for a moment while deciding how I want to reply. After swallowing, I say, “Kind of. I’ve got a half sister, but I never see her.”

  “Same mom or dad?”

  “Mom.”

  “Is she in foster care, too?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “How’s that work?”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  He wipes crumbs from his mouth and says, “I’m pretty smart. I bet I can keep up.”