Chapter 6 Orion #2
I waggled my brows. “Ah, you think I’m cute.”
She turned to go again, but I grabbed her hand, laughing.
“Wait, wait, wait. Tell me.”
For a long moment, her hand stayed in mine, then she pulled it back and crossed her arms tight.
“You almost answer questions with something honest, then back off. You screw around in every class, then you rattle off entire pages of text from memory. You play piano like a miracle and…” She shook her head. “I don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I barked a laugh. “You don’t believe me.”
“No, I don’t. I just… Never mind. Maybe it’s me.” She looked out over the water. “Maybe this fucking school is messing with my head. It’s not what I thought it would be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought I’d take the best classes and study and keep my head down, but it hasn’t been that simple.”
“How has it been?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Hard,” she said. “Really hard.”
My jaw, chest, and fists tightened all at once. Fucking senior prank.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” she said, hugging herself tighter. “I’ll be fine. It’s growing pains or whatever. This is a great opportunity, so I shouldn’t complain. I can manage.”
I can manage. How many times had I said the same thing to myself? A hundred? A thousand? The battle cry of the lone soldier.
“You’re right,” I said.
She kicked at a piece of charred wood. “About?”
“I have…something of a secret.”
“You do?”
“Yes. And it explains chemistry, history, and maybe even Wolfe’s oh-so-gentle critique of my Rachmaninoff. But before I tell it, we have to find a place to sit and warm you up.”
I found a fallen log suitable to my purposes, then took off my jacket and put it around Harper’s shoulders.
“You don’t have to—”
“Take my bloody jacket, Bennett,” I said, before she could argue.
Harper looked like she was about to argue, clearly not used to being offered help or accepting it, but finally put her arms in the sleeves.
The jacket was too big for her, which for some primal, manly, caveman reason, made me feel possessive.
As if she were somehow mine now. Protected from the elements because of me, and…
Fuck, I was going to get aroused if I continued this line of thinking.
Harper’s eyes met mine. Her usual defensive composure fractured, and through the cracks, I saw the soft girl who had a hard time letting people see her real self too.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” I smiled. “Hey, we did it.”
“Did what? Had a normal exchange of words like normal people? I noticed.”
“We’d better not make a habit of it,” I said. “Who knows where we might end up?”
Somewhere real?
The words hung in the air between us in a cartoon bubble as I guided us to the fallen log.
“So, out with my secret, yes?” I said. “I have ADHD. It’s a complicated case. At least, I think so.”
Harper’s eyes widened, and she looked pained. Distraught. “Why didn’t you tell me before? God, now I feel even worse for giving you a hard time about that stupid atomic model assignment. And recording Langford’s lectures.”
“No, no, it’s all right. I have my own way of dealing with it.”
“Your own way? You don’t have accommodations? An IEP?”
“I get test accommodations. Not much else. My parents don’t like to talk about it. In fact, my parents don’t like to talk about much of anything. It’s just not how we do it in my family.”
Now Harper looked angry on my behalf, which was sort of sweet. And new. I wasn’t used to having an ally in the trenches. My chest felt strangely heavy and light at the same time. Unburdened but self-conscious too.
She bit her lip. “Only test accommodations? But—”
I waved a hand. “It’s fine. It is what it is. But I haven’t told a soul in four years.” I smiled. “You must have a way about you.”
“Sure. A way of harassing you so my grade doesn’t suffer.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She raised her eyes to mine. “It’s not something you should be ashamed about. You know that, right?”
“I’m not ashamed, necessarily. It’s just difficult.”
“Telling others might make it less difficult.”
I smiled. “I can manage.”
“I see what you did there.” Harper looked like she was going to reach for my hand, but then she tucked hers away in the pocket of my jacket. “But if you need anything from me, I’ll help. I mean, not that you need help. But if you do, I will.”
“Thank you. My brain’s a nightmare with short stuff. Long books? Fine. A paragraph? Forget it.”
“Is that what happened in history the other day?”
“Yes. You gallantly came to my rescue, even if you didn’t know it at the time.”
Harper nodded. “That makes sense. They call it an attention deficit, but I heard that if someone is really into an activity, they can focus for a long time. I mean, not to tell you about your own condition. I’m sure you know more about it than I do. Obviously.”
She was so cute when she was flustered, which I suspected was a rare occurrence.
I hadn’t had anyone offer help or show concern in years.
I’d forgotten what it felt like. I’d gotten so used to managing alone, the exhaustion of it became almost background noise.
Right now, Harper was with me in this moment of confession, and I wasn’t so alone…
I cleared my throat.
“I should’ve mentioned it earlier, seeing as we’re going to be lab partners for the whole year. I really don’t want you scolding me the whole time.” I itched to brush a stray curl off her cheek. “You’re much prettier when you’re not scolding me.”
It was too dark out to see her blush, but I felt it anyway. The moment grew soft, as if we’d drawn closer together without moving at all.
“You said ADHD explains Wolfe’s tearing into your performance,” she said eventually. “Absolutely not. Your Rachmaninoff was truly beautiful, and I don’t care what he says. You’re not empty. I felt something listening to you play.”
A warmth spread in my chest, and it wanted to wake up something long asleep, down there in the depths.
“Thank you,” I said. “I suppose you’re right. He couldn’t know about my condition, but he is an expert about music. He can hear what most can’t, so he heard something. Or nothing. Anyway, we don’t have to talk about it anymore. I just wanted to clear the air.”
Harper was smart enough to know I was done discussing the scene in piano class. “Well, I’m glad Wolfe’s not a doctor,” she said. “His bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired.”
“I’ll bet he knows how to get a good performance out of us,” I said with a grin. “By sheer terror alone.”
“Or drive us to nervous breakdowns.” Harper looked up at me; we were so close on the log. Inches apart. “Do you want to do that for a living? Play the piano? You’re more than good enough, and do not deflect.”
“No, I’m going into the family business, remember?”
“But why not piano? If I played like you, that’s all I would do, all day long.”
“Nah,” I said. “I think you’re being overly generous.”
“I think you’re being overly modest. You could go to Juilliard or—”
I waved my hands. “I’m not going to Juilliard.”
“No?”
“No, at the end of the year, I’m going back to the UK. To Cambridge.”
“Oh. Gotcha.” Something like disappointment flickered over Harper’s face but then it was gone again. Maybe I imagined it. She cleared her throat. “It must be hard, being so far away from your family for so long.”
“It was for years one and two, but I got used to it. Or numb to it. I go back every year for Christmas.”
“That’s it? Just Christmas?”
I nodded. “My father thought it would be a good way to build our moral character. Toughen us up. It was hardest for my middle brother, Octavian. He’s a genius. He did CHA when he was two years younger than Odin or me.”
“What’s your family like?” Harper asked.
“They’re good people. A little remote. Father’s busy running his empire. Mum is busy running her galleries. They’re kind but not effusive. I guess you could say they don’t like to get their hands messy with all that lovey-dovey stuff. It’s like being raised by benevolent strangers.”
“That’s odd, because you’re so…” Harper shook her head.
“I’m so…?”
“Warm. You’re very warm.” This time there was no mistaking her blush.
“I’m warm,” I said with a chuckle. “Like a cozy mitten.”
“Come on,” she said, elbowing me in the side. “You know what I mean. You’re like Dean. Everybody loves you.”
“They don’t love me,” I said, sort of shocked at the words escaping my mouth from down below.
“How could they? They don’t know me. They know the version of me that I show the world.
I’m the guy that makes all the jokes. The guy who’s everybody’s friend.
” I gave her a rueful smile. “Well. Almost everybody.”
Harper frowned. “But that’s not the real you?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Wolfe… He’s going to try to play it out of me, I think. Because sometimes I feel like…”
“What?”
“I can draw and play, but my brain has turned my handwriting to shite, and I’m scattered and unfocused… I sometimes wonder if that’s like some weird metaphor for me. As if I can’t explain or decipher my own self.” I laughed and shook my head. “That makes no damn sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” she said. “You said your parents feel like strangers. So maybe it’s hard to know who you are without ever having had a deep bond?
Without them reflecting you back to you.
That’s a parent’s job, isn’t it? To validate their child’s feelings, help them name and understand emotions, and model emotional awareness. ”
I stared with wide eyes. “Harper Bennett, casually forgetting to mention she has a degree in child psychology.”
She laughed. “Al-Anon meetings. Some of it stuck.”
“Al-Anon?”
Her laughter died a quick death. “That’s short for Alcoholics Anonymous. I went to the family meetings. My mom’s had some issues with alcohol. To say the least.”
“I’m sorry.”