Hanson surprised her by not making fun of her.“Cool,” he said.“People are idiots.”
Landon and Celia glanced at one another.
“It’s almost five,” Celia said.“We’re going home.”She didn’t want to give Hanson space to make fun of them, ridicule them, or find reasons to make their lives worse at school.
“Yeah,” Hanson said.“My dad will kill me if he catches me out this late.”
Landon tugged at his ear.“I don’t need sleep.I mean, not as much as other people.”
It felt like a strange brag.Celia swallowed and turned toward Bluebell Cove, watching in amazement as Landon and Hanson fell into step beside her.Celia had the strangest sense that the boys wanted to make sure she got home safely, as though they were competing with each other to be beside her.But after years of being ignored at school by everyone save for Landon and sometimes Bethany, Celia squashed the idea.
Birds began to twitter in the trees lining the sidewalk, calling out to the gorgeous September morning.Celia shivered, wishing she had a thicker coat.Pretty soon, she’d need to wake her sisters.She’d need to check on Wren’s and Juliet’s homework assignments and deal with Ivy’s sour mood.
But when they rounded the corner to find the Bluebell Cove Inn and the house beside it in which she lived with her father and sisters, they saw a dark shadow on the front porch.Celia’s stomach tightened into knots.It was her father, cross-armed and domineering, glaring down at her.Celia had half a mind to turn on her heel and run back to the beach or to the highway, where she could stick out her thumb and hitchhike to her future.
“Shoot,” Landon breathed, stalling.Celia knew that Landon was just as frightened of her father as she was, if not more.Her father was half convinced they were dating, which made things worse for Landon.James was possessive.He always had been, even back when Celia’s mother was alive.
James Harper stormed down the steps and bolted across the lawn.Celia had never seen him move so swiftly, not even the time last summer when Wren had tumbled from the swing set and broken her arm.Rage beamed from his eyes.But he didn’t dare speak loud enough to wake the neighbors.His reputation was important to him, above all else.“Celia Harper,” he rasped, reaching for her wrist.It was clear he was going to yank her back to the house and throw her inside.It was clear he didn’t care if he hurt her a little.
He was an approaching storm.Celia winced and prepared herself.
But that was when Hanson Smith stepped between Celia and her father, glaring.At nearly six foot one with more inches on the way, Hanson was every bit as tall as James, and a shadow was cast across his face.James churned his molars but made no move to duck around Hanson and grab Celia.
“I imagine you’ll want to get off my property before I call your parents,” James said icily to Hanson.
“And I imagine you’ll want to let Celia into the house so she can get ready for school,” Hanson shot back darkly, his voice deep and sinister and much older than his seventeen or eighteen years.“I imagine you won’t want to cause problems for yourself.My father always said that only cowards lose control of their emotions.”
Celia wondered how Hanson had learned to speak to adults like that.She guessed it was because of his parents, the wealthiest in Bluebell Cove, who looked down upon everyone else in town.But why, then, was Hanson standing up for Celia?Why was he saving her if he didn’t care about anyone but himself?Was it an exercise for him?No better than a spring across the football field?
To Celia’s surprise, her father hung back, put his hands on his hips, and nudged his head back toward the house.“Go on, Celia.Your sisters are waiting for you.”
Celia didn’t dare look at Landon or Hanson before whipping up the lawn and into the house.Inside, the air was warm and still, and she felt a sob crawl up her throat and escape.When she entered the room she shared with Ivy, her knees knocked together with fear, and she took off her clothes, hurried to the bathroom, and showered.Although she hadn’t slept a wink, she wasn’t tired in the least.She scrubbed her hair of the smell of bonfire, made a list in her mind of things she needed to do today, and hurried to get her sisters out of bed.
Downstairs, her father left a note on the kitchen table.You’re grounded for a week, it said.She crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, then turned to make eggs and toast for her sisters.Juliet flicked the radio on, and Celia, Juliet, and Wren danced around to Britney Spears, Celia swinging her spatula through the air as the eggs sizzled.Only Ivy kept to herself, writing in her journal, her hair hiding her face.When Wren and Juliet were busy scream-crying the lyrics to the next song, Ivy set her eyes on Celia’s and asked, “Where were you last night?”
Celia gave Ivy a look meant to convey how adult she was and how childish Ivy was acting.“It’s a senior thing,” she said.“For the newspaper.”
“Uh-huh,” Ivy said, sarcasm laced through her tone.She got up, reached for her bag, and left for school without the rest of them, leaving Celia to scramble through cleanup and get Wren and Juliet out the door.
When Celia got to school, fatigue had caught up with her, as had a sense of joie de vivre and excitement.What had happened that morning with Hanson and Landon now seemed like a strange dream.For the first time, she felt as though she was living, as though the story of her life was opening up.Landon caught up with her in the hallway, smiled his goofy smile, and asked, “You good?”He searched her face.
“James was cool about it.”Celia tossed her hair.
“A miracle,” Landon said.
“Totally.”Celia opened her locker and watched as a folded-up piece of paper fell to the floor.Someone had slotted a note through the grates, a secret note meant for her.Landon was usually the only person who left her notes (or Bethany, if they happened to be friends that week).Just then, Landon was talking about their upcoming newspaper meeting and didn’t notice.She slipped the note in her pocket, her heart banging.She had a hunch about who it was from.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted her hunch to be right.
It wasn’t until fourth period, after lunch, that she dared to open it.In a bathroom stall, listening as a group of juniors gossiped and cackled by the sinks, she unfolded the notebook paper and read the most masculine scrawl she’d ever seen:I’ve never heard someone sing Bohemian Rhapsody as well as you.Sorry about this morning.My anger sometimes gets the best of me.I hope you didn’t have too many problems.We should talk more.
It wasn’t signed, obviously.But Celia’s heart pounded in her ears, and she sat on the toilet seat and shook with a mix of fear and pleasure.For once, her entire focus wasn’t on next year, on Washington, DC, and everything awaiting her outside Bluebell Cove.For once, she was curious about what was going to happen to her right here, in the small town where her parents had met and fallen in love and had four Harper daughters.
What had gotten into her?
ChapterEight
Present Day
