Burning Hearts Page 8

Malcolm turned around with his fiery blue eyes, smiling. He took her quiz. “I’m going to do the work for you,” he whispered.

  If there was such a word as “super-shocked,” and if it had an illustration in the dictionary, it’d be her face, mouth hanging.

  “But-but if Mr. Worth notices me silent, he’ll know that’s what you’re doing,” she whispered back.

  He smiled. “But you won’t be silent. While I work, I want you to tell me about yourself.”

  “You wanna know about me?”

  He nodded. “Everything.”

  “But there’s only twenty minutes left until class ends.”

  “Well, you can begin now and finish at the game.”

  She furrowed her brow. “You’re gonna go to the game?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, why?”

  She shrugged. “I dunno. You don’t seem like you’d be interested in that stuff.”

  He lifted his lips in a half smile. “And what sort of stuff do you think I’m interested in?”

  She was speechless. Then she found her voice, making clipped responses. “Dunno. Sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be. You tell me about you. And I’ll tell you about me.” He pointed the pencil’s eraser at her. “You first.”

  He started working on her quiz, answering each problem with what Jenna assumed to be absolute accuracy.

  He paused and looked up at her, smiling. “I’m waiting, Jenna.”

  “Oh, um, well…”

  He looked back down, continuing his work.

  “…I was born in Oasis. My parents run a funeral home and crematorium. I’m an only child.”

  He paused again, looked up, and shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Jenna. I could’ve found out that from the internet. Tell me something no one knows. A secret, even.”

  Who does this guy think he is?

  “If I had a secret, why would I tell you?” she asked rather crossly.

  He focused his fiery blue eyes at her as if he had X-ray vision; she hoped that he didn’t.

  “You don’t feel the sudden urge to divulge?”

  She fought to suppress a gasp of indignation. “Is this about my quiz?” She raised her voice, but not enough to attract attention. “Are you gonna stop ’cause I’m not cooperating?”

  He looked wounded. “No, Jenna. That’s not my agenda. I just want to get to know you better.”

  “Why?” She’d lowered her voice, feeling bad about her earlier mistaken accusation, but still confused by his deep interest in her.

  “You’re different than the other students. Unique.”

  She swallowed, nervous. “I’m just like everyone else,” she countered in a meek voice.

  “In a way, yes, you are.” He smiled. “But mostly, you’re not.”

  The conversation had gone from interesting to dangerous in a nanosecond. She decided to joke. “Is it the red hair? I’m totally special in that case. There’s like two other students in the whole school with red hair.”

  He smiled again. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant. It’s your beautiful hair.” He extended his hand and with his fingertips, lightly brushed where her hair met her shoulder. She fought to contain a shudder of libidinous excitement. “There aren’t many in the world like you, Jenna Love.”

  The bell rang and it was like a gong had been smashed next to her ear. She jumped in her seat.

  “Time’s up,” said Malcolm, ignoring her nerves.

  The class turned in their quizzes to an uncharacteristically tranquil Mr. Worth, sitting at his desk, staring at his daily planner. She watched as Malcolm turned in their work.

  “See you Monday, Mr. Worth.”

  The teacher looked up at his persuasive student. “Yes, yes, Monday. New week. New lessons.”

  “I can’t wait.” Malcolm’s tone was bordering on sarcastic as he bent down to retrieve his backpack, and then adjusted the strap over his shoulder.

  She expected him to walk back to her, but he turned, and went out of the room.

  She grabbed her own backpack and adjusted both straps over her shoulders.

  “Hey, Malcolm, wait up!”

  He stopped outside the door. “Yes?”

  “Why’d you help me? And how’d you get Mr. Worth to agree to that?”

  Instead of immediately answering, he smiled and leaned his shoulder casual-sexy-like against the wall that was painted with a big red scorpion. “You asked two questions, but I’ll only answer one.”

  She waited, stifling an eye roll.

  Finally, he said, “I helped you because you needed it.”

  She wasn’t satisfied. “What’re you? Some kinda Good Samaritan?” she asked sarcastically.

  He raised his eyebrow. “Good?” He shook his head. “No, I’m not good.” He seemed deadly serious until he smiled. “Samaritan? No, I’m half-Egyptian, half-American.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Dead,” he said with a pained expression.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She felt bad for being so rude to him earlier.

  He gave her a half smile. “It’s okay.”

  “Can you tell me about them?”

  “Yes, but not now.”

  “Why not?”

  She cringed inwardly at her whiny tone as if she were a petulant child, who deserved to know everything, feeling like everyone was keeping secrets from her.

  “It’s a long story,” he bounced back, sounding like an exasperated, but loving parent, showing her a smile. “I need to go home, change.” He winked. “I’m filling in for the quarterback.”

  There it was again: super-shocked.

  “You play football?”

  He gave a simple nod. “We didn’t play in Egypt, but it’s not hard to learn the rules,” he said in a somewhat arrogant tone.

  She didn’t comment on him acting like…well, a Stuck-Up. “But-but what about Val? Did the principal suspend him from playing?”

  “Oh, no, she didn’t, but Coach Hardy was so impressed with my skills, he decided to bench Val.”

  She gasped. “For the rest of the season?” She made a mental note to call Guinness, claiming to be the world record holder for receiving the most shocks in one day.

  “I don’t anticipate playing any more games,” he clarified.

  Cancel Guinness.

  She furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.”

  He smiled. “I know you don’t.”

  Malcolm King was infuriating.

  “Are you making fun of me?” she asked crossly.

  His smile faded as he separated himself from the wall. “I’d never do that.” He tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “Are you mad at me?”

  She could still feel the heat of his touch after he’d removed his fingers. “No. I’m not mad at you,” she said in a forgiving tone.

  He gave her a smile of relief. “Good. After the game that the Scorpions are sure to win, reversing their losing streak,”—he winked conspiratorially—“we can talk.”

  “You won’t be tired?”

  She remembered when she’d dated Val. He didn’t even want to see her, crashing in the backseat of Aidan’s Bronco as the wide receiver drove Emma and Jenna home.

  Malcolm shook his head. “No. I’ll be wide awake, for you.”

  She tried to will her blush away, but it flushed her cheeks, betraying her. “Well, I’ll be with my friends.” Then she bit her lip, realizing his plan might not work.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I won’t be able to see you. Caleb’s mom is driving us all home. I won’t have a ride if I stay.”

  He gave a proud smile. “I have a car. I can take you home—with your parents’ permission, of course.”

  “Oh, yeah, uh, they’ll be fine with it…probably. I just have to tell them.”

  “Great.” His blue eyes twinkled as he grinned. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  She smiled, feeling excited and nervous at the same time. Was this a date?

  “Grea
t. See you too.” She had fiery butterflies in her stomach. “And good luck at the game.”

  “Cheer for me.”

  “I will.”

  He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against her cheek in a chaste kiss before walking away. It felt like her whole face was on fire. She closed her eyes, holding her bandaged hand to her cheek, keeping the memory of his lips against her skin for as long as she could. She didn’t expect his kiss. Malcolm King was full of surprises.

  And it left her feeling, yes, super-shocked.

  REUNION

  When Jenna boarded the bus to go home, she found Pru and Riddick sitting on opposite seats.

  Riddick smiled and patted the unoccupied space next to him. “Sit with me?”

  Unsure, Jenna looked at Pru, who encouraged her with a smile and a nod. She sat next to Riddick, nervous, but glad they were on speaking terms again.

  “So…what’ve you been up to?” she asked, maintaining a tone of casual inquiry.

  “I’m sorry, Jen.” He acted like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders by apologizing. “I shouldn’t have fought with you like that. We’re still friends, right?”

  She relaxed, smiling. “Of course. I felt awful the rest of the day, thinking everything had gone to hell.”

  She didn’t mention the possible date with Malcolm. That would set Riddick off again. Of course, he was going to find out eventually. She decided to cross that rickety bridge later.

  “I was upset too,” he confided. “I just got mad when you started talking about Val. I hate him. I hated him before he treated you like crap. And…and I love you.” He gave a slight smile. “I’d get jealous of any guy you talked about.”

  She couldn’t date Malcolm. It would tear Riddick apart. And right now his friendship meant more to her than having a boyfriend. But she needed to clarify what they were and what they weren’t.

  She gently clasped his hand. “I like you Riddick, but…not in that way. I mean as a friend, I—”

  “No, no, it’s okay.” He continued to hold onto her hand. “I know you’ve never thought about me that way, but…” He let go of her hand, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a small black book. He hesitated before handing it to her.

  She held it warily. “What’s this?”

  “Don’t read it now but they’re some of my poems. The ones in that book are all about you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, even before we were friends.” He shook his head. “I know it’s stupid. How can you love someone you don’t really know? But I did. I still do. You’re different than the other girls. Unique.”

  Unique. Malcolm had said the same thing.

  She willed him away from her mind, along with his fiery kiss. “I’m just like everyone else,” she told Riddick. “But thanks.” She decided to lessen the drama; it was already hot enough on the bus. She waved the small black book in the air. “Should I read this in secret? Any profanity? Naughty words? Explicit content?”

  He chuckled. “It’s perfectly PG.” He wobbled his hand. “Maybe PG-Thirteen.” Then he held up his hand in a halt gesture. “No R. You’re safe from prying eyes.”

  She pouted. “Ah, I was hoping for some raunchy material.”

  He blushed. “All that’s up here,” he said, tapping at his temple.

  She chuckled, not disturbed at his thoughts of her naked. It was only normal. She wondered if Malcolm had thought about her that way too…

  She turned to a grinning Pru, who was drawing a heart shape with her forefingers.

  Jenna just rolled her eyes.

  ~~~

  They were dropped off at Caleb’s and soon, Kylie joined them.

  “I’m so excited! And can you believe it?! Val’s been benched! Malcolm’s gonna be quarterbacking tonight!”

  Riddick punched his fist in the air. “Yeah! We might actually have a chance at winning!” He shrugged and dropped his hand. “Not that I care.”

  Kylie pinched his cheek. “Oh, Riddick! Always pretending to be a sourpuss.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Pretending.” He held up both hands, snapped his fingers, and pointed two guns at her, smiling. “You got me!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just get in the damn van.”

  Everyone crowded inside. Jenna sat in the rear with her backpack on her lap, devoid of all school material. Pru sat with Kylie in the middle while Caleb sat up front. Mrs. Dasher turned the radio up loud to country music. Riddick plugged in his ear buds and turned up his heavy metal mix. “Death is My Friend” by The Bloody Knuckles blasted out.

  While he gazed out the window, Jenna took the opportunity to read his poems. It would take a car accident or a kiss from Jenna to get him to stop listening to his eardrum-rupturing music.

  She noticed pages had been torn out, especially at the beginning, where the oldest poems would be. The later poems, the last one dated yesterday, dealt with his love for her.

  Riddick wasn’t a bad poet, but he was repetitive.

  One poem was particularly sad:

  DREAMS OF JENNA

  During the darkest nights

  My mind takes flight

  Rising into that lit place

  Where I can behold her face

  Laughing in glee

  As she flees from me

  I chase her, call out her name

  But to her it’s just a game

  My hopes, her playthings

  My cries, her gains

  She stops, giving me hope

  But I’m just a dope

  Letting her cut my wings

  Watching me fall and break as she sings

  A song of joy for my death

  Yet I love her still as I take my final breath

  She nudged him. He turned to her and pulled out his ear buds. “Yeah?”

  She held up the book. “Why are so many pages torn out?”

  He turned off his iPod. “I don’t want you to read those.”

  “Why not?”

  “That was from before we were friends.”

  “I don’t understand. You said you loved me then.”

  “I did. But I also hated you. The poems I tore out reflected that. My words about you were cruel, but I always ended with tortured affection.”

  “Tortured?”

  “It’s torture when you love someone, and you know they’ll never love you back.”

  She held his hand, gentle in care. “Oh, Riddick.” She sighed. “I dunno what to say.”

  He squeezed her hand, and then interlaced his fingers with hers. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to say nothing.” He smiled. “Of course, if you suddenly declared your love for me, I wouldn’t question it, but I’m not gonna hate you ’cause you don’t feel the same way. I’ll always be your friend, and I’ll always love you.”

  She fought back tears—tears of joy at being loved—and tears of sadness at not being able to return his sentiment.

  “If…if we were to start dating and things didn’t work out, you know what that would mean, right?”

  He nodded and gestured with his free hand to the passengers up front, seemingly oblivious to their conversation. “The band would break up. The Misfits would be no more.” He leaned in, close to her ear. “But after graduation, do you really think we’ll stay in contact?”

  She whispered back. “Pru said you were gonna go to Texas, to be with your mom.”

  “That’s a plan, but nothing’s definite. If…if I knew we had a chance—”

  “Riddick, don’t change your life for me. Don’t wait around for me.” She freed her hand from his hold, went into her backpack, and pulled out the journal, unopened. “I’m not the Jenna you befriended three months ago. I go into trances, imagining myself killing people.” She held up her bandaged hand briefly. “I miraculously heal.” She gave a slight smile. “Not to mention, I could crush every bone in your body if I got mad or lost control.” She sighed. “I dunno what my future is gonna be, but whatever it is and wherever I’m at,”—she held up the journal—“it
’ll be because of the contents of this book. Remember, I have a knife in my room. My grandpa didn’t leave it for me because I was destined to be a chef.”

  “If you don’t wanna do this, you don’t have to. You don’t have to accept this pre-planned life. There’s something called Free Will, Jen.”

  “But I can’t ignore it, Riddick. How am I supposed to live my life when I go into trances, or when I’ve gotta be careful shaking someone’s hand? I’ve changed. Yes, I am unique. I am…different.” She nodded toward Caleb, who along with Pru and Kylie, still seemed oblivious to Jenna and Riddick’s tête-à-tête; thank goodness for Mrs. Dasher’s love of loud, boot-stomping bluegrass. “In art, Caleb painted a picture of himself as a silhouette with legs, standing among a group of people in color.”

  Riddick furrowed his brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “That’s me too,” she clarified. “I’m among everyone else, alike in some ways, but very different in one big way. I’m with the crowd, but not one of them. You know what I mean?”

  “You’re an outsider,” he concluded.

  “Yep.”

  “So am I.” He waved his hand at their friends. “So are all of us.”

  “You’re an outsider because you choose to be,” she distinguished. “I didn’t have a choice to be or not to be a Mage…whatever that is.”

  “You see? You don’t even know what this destiny is.”

  She looked down at her grandpa’s journal and pressed her palm against the black worn leather. “I’m about to.”

  SHAKY GROUND

  There are certainly more appropriate and quieter venues to read about your destiny: a library, the bathroom, a glade in the forest. Yes, these would be better places for Jenna to learn the truth about her life, but no, she opted to find all this out at a high school football game.

  “It’s louder than I expected,” Pru commented.

  “What?!” Caleb yelled, and then smiled, exposing his dimples. “Yeah, it’s loud.” He turned to Jenna. “Are you sure you wanna read the journal here?”

  They were safe from eavesdroppers, sitting in the reserved section for the handicapped. The majority of the fans were several feet away, where the action would be displayed. It wasn’t even close to the beginning of the game and it was already rowdy.