Chapter 7 #2
“Braden, that’s enough!” Brock stands up as the waitress returns with his credit card. He signs the slip. “Let’s go.”
He takes off before we’re even up from the table. When we’re outside, Braden and Brock walk in front, with Trystan and me trailing behind.
“Did you know that woman?” I quietly ask Trystan.
“She’s the school secretary.”
“At Twisted Pine?” I ask, shocked that Brock slept with someone from their school.
“She’s not there anymore. She quit last year. She only worked there to get her kids’ tuition for free. But they couldn’t survive. They’re back at Legion.”
“What do you mean they couldn’t survive?” I ask, stopping next to the car.
Trystan opens my door and smiles. “You’ll see.”
I get in the car, wondering if he’s just trying to scare me or if he’s serious. What’s so horrible about this school that people can’t survive there? Is he saying Whitney’s kids got bullied? If so, I can handle bullies.
When we get home, I go to my room and close the door.
Someone knocks on it. “Rumor, can I come in?”
It’s Brock. What does he want?
“Yeah, go ahead,” I tell him.
He comes in and closes the door.
“Let’s sit down.” He goes to the couch and waits for me to join him.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m sorry about tonight. It didn’t go as I had hoped.”
“It’s fine. She didn’t know.”
“I wasn’t just talking about Whitney’s comment, although I’m sorry that happened. I was referring to the boys. I was hoping they’d behave tonight.”
“They were okay. I never expected them to accept me. We don’t need to be friends. I’m only here for a year and then they never have to see me again.”
He nods. “I should let you get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
“Are you sticking around?” I ask, walking him to the door.
“For now, yes. I’m waiting to hear back from my agent about a possible role that could start filming next month.”
“If you got it, you’d live in LA?”
“Vancouver. The show films in Canada.”
“How long would you be there?”
“Probably until the holidays. I won’t know until I get the details from my agent.”
He’d be gone for three months? Living in a different country? Why am I even here? If I’m going to be living on my own, I should’ve just stayed in New York.
“Goodnight, Rumor,” he says.
“Goodnight.” I close the door and walk over to the windows that look out at the pool.
I’m tired but not ready to sleep, especially after finding out I might be spending the next few months all alone in this giant house.
Trystan and Braden will be here, but they don’t count.
They have their own lives. I probably won’t even see them outside of school.
Going into my closet, I find the small box of photos I brought with me. I bring it to my bed, open it up, and take out a photo of my mom and me at Coney Island. We took it the week before she died. In the photo, we’re at the top of the Ferris wheel, making funny faces.
“Why did you have to go?” I say, running my hand over the photo. Feeling tears forming, I drop the photo in the box and shove it under my bed.
I go outside to the pool, breathing in the salty ocean air. I walk over to the plexiglass wall that runs along the patio and look out at the darkness, listening to the sound of the waves rolling in.
The stairs going down to the beach are just to my left. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I want to go down there. I don’t want to be in that house right now. I don’t want to be in that room. I glance back at it, then turn and go down the stairs to the beach.
It’s dark, and the beach is rocky and uneven, so I step carefully, staying close to the houses.
They’re all massive, like Brock’s house, and are lined with windows looking out at the water.
I walk past a house with lights on and see a man walking around his living room, talking to himself.
Or maybe someone’s there, although I don’t see anyone.
I quicken my steps. I’m sure these rich people call the cops if they see anyone on their property. They probably have cameras set up back here. I’m surprised I haven’t set off an alarm.
Moving farther out toward the water, I continue along the beach, slowing my pace and focusing on the sound of the waves. After a while, I turn back and realize I walked farther than I’d planned. I can’t see even Brock’s house anymore.
“Stop!” I hear a girl yell.
I look up to see where it came from. I think it came from the house just up from where I’m standing, but I’m not sure.
The house is huge, even bigger than Brock’s.
I move closer to the water and look up. From this view, I can see the main level, but blinds cover most of the windows except for part of the living room.
“Stop it!” I hear the girl yell again.
It’s definitely coming from that house. My heart races as I realize I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but it sounds like something I need to get away from.
Just as I’m about to run off, I hear laughing. Looking up at the house again, I see the outline of a guy. The lights are dim, but I can make out his form. He’s tall with broad shoulders. Holding onto the girl. Kissing her.
She laughs, then slowly lifts up her shirt.
He takes it off her, then kisses her again.
I hear something banging. It’s the blinds on the window.
They’re pulled up to the top, but the open window is making them bang against the frame.
The guy goes over to close them. I run toward the rocky wall just below his house, hoping he doesn’t see me.
After waiting a moment, I head back to Brock’s house, going faster this time.
The ocean breeze feels colder now, sending a chill through me, and the darkness is starting to freak me out.
Picking up my pace, I’m nearly at a run until I see Brock’s house just ahead.
I return to a walking pace until I finally reach the concrete steps that lead back to the patio.
When I get to the top, I’m greeted by three large men.
Two police officers. And Brock.