Chapter Six. Clara
CHAPTER SIX
CLARA
THEN
“THIS IS THE FIRST night I’ve been out in, like, months,” Delaney said. It was a warm evening in early October, but she was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and only her manicured fingertips poked out of the sleeves as she drove to Kenji’s house.
“I seriously need to unleash tonight. This Legacy shit is kicking my ass,” Amaya said, checking her lip gloss and smoothing her already immaculately straight black hair in the visor mirror.
I nodded along with everyone else.
Between school, homework, cross-country, filming, and work, I was always busy.
And it wasn’t just me. Nicole had tacked on extra runs to her training schedule, Amaya had been cast as the lead in the fall play, and it seemed like no matter when I texted Delaney, she was at the dance studio.
Though Legacies wouldn’t be chosen for months once we submitted our official applications, they made it very clear all our behavior and extracurriculars mattered. No rule breaking, no missteps.
How were we supposed to sustain this?
My phone buzzed with a text from my dad—his response to my question from last week asking if he was going to come back for Legacy Weekend.
Dad: Not going to make it. Briana doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Tell your mom for me?
I read it three times looking for the apology or acknowledgment that he hadn’t reached out once since he left that summer.
Of course, there was none. Because the opinion of the woman who he broke Mom’s heart for was apparently more important than his relationship with his daughter. I was no better than Mom in hoping that the lure of his former glory days might be reason enough to bring him home even if I wasn’t.
“Awwww,” Amaya sighed. “Josh just texted telling me to hurry up and get to the party. He was so distant when I was in New York this summer, but ever since I’ve been home he’s been, like, so in love with me.”
Guilt and shame roiled through me all over again about what happened with Josh. I guess I was no better than Dad, either.
As we made our way up the side of the mountain where Kenji lived, Amaya went on and on about what an amazing boyfriend Josh was.
Nicole rolled her eyes and finally cut her off by saying, “I hope Reid’s coming tonight.” Her voice was almost pained as she said it.
Amaya’s laugh carried from the front seat. “You’re so obsessed.”
Delaney shot me a look in the rearview that I pretended not to see since I was obviously busy studying the fascinating buttons on my camera.
“Have you and Reid been talking?” Delaney asked Nicole.
I suppressed a smile at her protective tone.
Nicole bit her lip and nodded. “Well, sort of. We’ve been running together. He pushed me at practice yesterday, but in a way that made me want to go as hard as possible. He’s intense, but”—she paused, searching for the right word—“sweet,” she concluded.
Exactly, I thought. But I wasn’t about to say that out loud. Though Delaney had squashed the rumor about the party in its tracks, and Josh and Amaya were back together again, stories about the “mystery girl” had spread through the school like an oil spill.
Ridiculous lies that he and the mystery girl had sex, that there was more than one mystery girl in the room, that there was more than one guy in the room. I sometimes wondered if Josh was the person behind it, spreading rumors about himself for some sort of locker room clout.
Delaney and Kenji told me they’d heard my name come up once or twice after that practice, but Amaya didn’t believe any of it. It seemed I was in the clear. But my brush with calamity was enough to keep my mouth shut and my mind focused the rest of Legacy year.
We arrived at Kenji’s and piled into his house, where music boomed and people were already yelling and laughing. The three of them beelined for the kitchen to get drinks, but after that summer party, I’d steered clear of alcohol. No more messy mistakes. I hid behind my camera as I wandered around.
The scene was familiar; people playing a drinking game around a table, a few girls having a teary conversation, the guys ribbing one another as they tested who could lift the heaviest stuff around Kenji’s house. I captured it all, as unobtrusively as possible.
But not everyone liked the spotlight.
Nicole put her hand up to cover my lens when I got close. “Please don’t,” she said, annoyed.
I nodded and backed away. It didn’t always work when I tried to catch people off guard. And sometimes they surprised me, too.
Like when Logan Harper, a lacrosse player with sandy hair and light freckles across his nose, reached for Mitchell’s hand under the table across the room.
Above the table, they pretended like nothing was happening. Like they weren’t even paying attention to each other. They played the part well, their eyes only snagging on the other for a brief moment.
But when Logan’s thumb brushed across the back of his hand, Mitchell beamed in response.
I whipped the camera away. As far as I knew, neither of them were out. Sometimes it was unclear what was okay to document versus what was straight-up intrusive. But I definitely drew the line at outing anyone.
I quickly darted into the adjoining room, and my footsteps faltered because tucked into a chair in the back corner sat the very person I didn’t know I was looking for.
Reid.
A few people milled around talking. I ducked behind a towering bookshelf and watched him for a second.
I’d rarely seen him outside of practice and never in anything but athletic clothes.
That night he was wearing a toffee-colored T-shirt and jeans.
It was simple, but the color was so flattering he managed to make it look stylish.
His head was bent over a notebook, pen flying across the pages.
It was the same notebook I’d noticed he pulled out on bus rides to races or after practice sometimes.
He tugged on an earring absentmindedly while he wrote.
It was practically offensive how good he looked in the soft light.
“It’s rude to stare.” He hadn’t even looked up.
I startled and turned off the camera, quickly grabbing a book from the bookshelf to pretend to read.
My heart hammered against my rib cage as his footsteps approached on the honey-colored hardwood.
I realized too late I could’ve just greeted him like a normal person, but I was nervous.
It confused me that seeing him made me nervous.
I refused to look up when his feet stopped close to me, pretending to be completely absorbed in—
“How Not to Get Caught Spying,” he joked, making up a title. He grimaced. “Don’t think that one’s helping you out much.”
I looked up slowly—with dignity—and met Reid’s eyes. They were cackling. It was actually book one from my favorite fantasy series that I loaned Kenji months ago that he clearly hadn’t even opened.
“Hilarious.” I slammed the book against Reid’s chest, and he grabbed it before it fell.
He grinned. “Thanks, but I’m actually on book three.”
I glared at him, thrown by the way his deep voice thrummed through my body. “You read Glass Swords?”
“You read Glass Swords?” Reid asked, the teasing tone replaced by surprise.
“Most people have never even heard of it,” I said, suspicious that he was still messing with me.
He gave me a leveling look and walked over to his backpack, which was tucked beside the chair. He pulled out the green hardcover I knew well and offered it to me as proof.
Instead of lingering on the adorable fact that he brought a book to a party, I opened to where he was in the story. Oh. He didn’t know yet that Yesenia didn’t survive. I’d cried so hard while reading it that tear tracks stained my copy. He was only a few chapters away.
“Whoa, spoiler alert,” he said.
My eyes went wide as they met his. “I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to. Yesenia dies, doesn’t she?”
Shit, did he really get that from my face?
He pushed a hand through his hair. “I knew it. She sacrifices herself in an epic battle, forcing her brother to take the throne so Una can live a simple life with Felix. Right?”
My mouth fell open. “Wha— How did— I didn’t say—”
He let out a massive laugh then. Shoulders shaking, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He was very pleased with himself. “Your face. Priceless. I’m rereading it.”
I should have been more annoyed, but I had never heard him laugh before. It was loud and throaty and … addictive.
Still, I scowled. “I thought I ruined it for you!”
“With a look?” he said, his laughter slowing. “You’re not that easy to read. Trust me.”
The mirth shifted to something new that flipped my stomach. I turned my attention back to the book, running my fingers down the spine. “I can’t believe we have to wait another year for the next one. I wish I could just read this all night tonight.”
“Not in the partying mood?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Then why’d you come?”
For some reason, I felt the impulse to be honest. To tell him that I did whatever I could to stay out of the house when Mom was in a dark place, which had been happening more and more. Dread encroached knowing it would get worse once I told her about Dad’s text.
But I swallowed the urge to air my sad little story and held up my camera. “Yearbook duty. Team events always give good content. I want to be a documentary filmmaker, and I need all the practice I can get.”
I don’t know why I told him. Guys I was used to, guys like Josh, usually made fun of my love for documentaries. You’re too hot to be so boring, Clara.
I rushed to say, “I know it’s nerdy, but—”
Reid’s warm smile cut me off. “That’s really cool.”
The thud made us both jump when the book hit the floor. We each scrambled for it. Crouched down low, our eyes caught.
“Besides,” he continued, “Glass Swords is way nerdier.”
A surprised laugh escaped me. “True.”
His gaze moved all around my face. Delaney had done my eye makeup a little darker than usual, and I wondered if he noticed. What he thought.
“Your sweater matches your eyes,” he said.