Lia
Seventh grade
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes my presentation on dinosaurs.”
I turn around, pretending to gag for the amusement of my friends, Sophie and Jane. “He’s so in love with the sound of his own voice I bet he’s gonna marry himself.”
“Uh huh. But he’s not as much in love with himself as you are,” retorts Sophie.
“Lia and Logan sitting in a tree. K.I.S.S…” sings Jane.
“Oh, shut up,” I hiss, whipping back around.
Just in time for my eyes to meet Logan’s. He’s got a tan face and brown curls, and he’s definitely, without any doubt, the cutest boy in class. Cuter than any of the boy banders my friends obsess over, though I would never admit that to any of them.
But my heartbeat picks up when he gives me a mock bow. “Did I blow your mind with my T-rex fun facts?”
“Shut up,” I say again, growing red.
I really hate the way I blush. Not a light tinge on my cheeks, but splotches of red on my nose, my neck and ears.
I also hate that I can never think of a smart thing to say. Logan has such a way with words. He’s always making everyone laugh. But I just can’t seem to relax around him. Instead, it feels like every time I speak to him, it’s to lash out, even though that’s the last thing I want to do.
Could Sophie and Jane be right? Could I really have a crush on him?
I don’t think I do. Do I? I would know, wouldn’t I?
At last class is over, and there’s a general movement to get outside. The teacher is powerless to do a thing about it. In fact, the teacher is powerless in general when it comes to dealing with us Oakley kids.
I make a beeline for the bike that I always keep tied to the tree outside of school.
Somehow, no one has stolen it yet. Not even a chain could keep the Oakley ruffians from taking it.
Only Logan and his friends could. I’m pretty sure I have him to thank for my intact bike, but thanking him is the last thing I want to do.
Unlocking the useless chain, I start to pedal home.
Dad is out of town on some Moretti family business, but he left me a key and a list of instructions about ten pages long.
I definitely have the most overprotective parent around, or at least, the most overprotective parent in Oakley.
Still, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his little princess, so I guess I can’t complain.
I leave my bike against the tree by my house, hunting for my keys. But I can’t find them. Crap.
My pockets are empty. The keys must have dropped somewhere, either at school or on the way home.
Crap, crap, crap.
I already know it’s pointless to go back. By now, the keys will have been pocketed by some idiot. Not that they have any value, but the kids at school will steal just about anything for the fun of it.
Dad won’t be home until tomorrow, and there’s no way I’m sleeping outside. My only option is to head over to Sophie’s house. Jane lives too far away. But even getting to Sophie’s means biking down some of the worst streets of Oakley, streets I would never go down alone if I had a choice.
I don’t have one, though.
Gritting my teeth, I climb back on my bike. I’m even more worried about it than I am about myself. Logan might be able to scare the kids off at school to keep them from stealing it, but I doubt that protection extends to the slums.
I force myself to push my anxiety aside. Lia Cabello is not a scaredy-cat.
Nonetheless, I’m not feeling all that brave as I pedal down one street then another, going further into the depths of Oakley.
There are no sidewalks here, only rough streets riddled with potholes, covered in broken glass and old syringes.
Groups of men hang around, eyeing me, some with curiosity, others with… I’m not sure what.
I shiver, resolutely keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead, because these guys are really starting to creep me out.
So I don’t even notice the hand before it’s clamping down around my arm, lifting me off my bike, and dragging me to the ground.
“Hey!” I cry out.
Or at least I try to, but not a sound comes out. Still, when I see the guy grab my bike, I struggle up, and latch onto his arm.
There’s just no way he’s taking my bike. No way!
I desperately hold onto him, even clawing at his skin, but he merely tosses me to the ground again as if I weigh nothing, then lifts the bike higher, turning from me and preparing to take it away.
Never!
A moment later I’m back up, climbing on his back and twisting my arms around his neck.
He tries to force me off him, but desperation has me holding on tight.
I even start squeezing my arms, and he stumbles around, swearing loudly, before his strength overtakes mine, and he’s shoving me to the ground again.
When he turns to look at me, I can tell he’s furious.
Oops.
“You little bitch,” he growls. “I’m gonna fucking teach you a lesson!”
He grabs the bike again, but this time it’s not to take it away. This time, he holds it over his head threateningly, and my eyes widen as I wonder if he really means to… throw it down on me?
The muscles in his arms and neck are bulging, and he definitely means to do something.
“Stop!” I gasp. “My dad is going to kill you if you hurt me!”
He snorts. “I’m gonna crush your fucking dad like a fucking insect. Right after I snap his baby girl in two.”
My heart thundering, I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for what feels like the inevitable impact of the bike against my body.
No one’s ever raised a hand on me before. I wonder what it feels like?
It takes a moment for me to realize that nothing is happening. If he was going to beat me… wouldn’t he have started already?
Gulping nervously, I pop open an eye tentatively. My would-be attacker has turned around, facing away from me. Now that fear isn’t making the blood pump in my ears, I can hear his voice. He’s talking to someone.
I scramble up, unwilling for anyone to see me in this state, then gasp when I realize the person he’s talking to is… Logan.
What the heck?
I just have time to see two twenty-dollar bills exchange hands, before Logan grabs the bike then stalks over to me, roughly pulling me to him with his free arm.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
I try to toss off his arm, angry that he’s holding me like this, as if he owns me. But he merely tightens his grip.
“Start walking,” he hisses.
“Don’t tell me what to—ow!”
Did he really just smack my butt? I struggle out of his hold, ready to give him a piece of my mind. Who the heck does he think he is? He can’t just spank me! No one’s ever done that, not even my dad!
But he doesn’t let me say a word, just grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs me along that way.
“Logan! Stop! Ow!”
He twists my hair around his fist. It’s like he wants to hurt me.
“Shut your mouth and start walking, Lia,” he growls in my ear.
Between the smack on my butt and the way he’s pulling my hair like I belong to him, I’m seething. But something in his voice makes me obey. Which only angers me more.
He walks hurriedly down several streets, his hand still in my hair, and I have no choice but to stumble after him, because the way he’s tugging my hair hurts.
At last, we reach a somewhat less dangerous neighborhood, though that’s not saying much for Oakley. Still, he slows down and even lets go of my hair, though it’s only to squeeze his hand around my elbow instead.
“What are you doing?” I snap, trying and failing to get out of his vise-like hold. “You can’t treat me like that! You can’t spank me!”
“You’re a real brat, do you know that, Lia?” he says, though he doesn’t sound angry anymore, only tired. And maybe a little amused. “Doesn’t your daddy ever spank you for being such a brat?”
“He does not!” I huff out. “And I’m not a brat! So you can’t—”
“Uh huh,” he cuts in. “And what are you doing, riding your bike down the most dangerous part of Oakley?”
I toss my hair back. “I’m going to my friend’s house.”
“Does your dad know?”
“It’s not your business what he knows or doesn’t know.” I try to look as condescending as possible, but his quiet smirk unsettles me. “Anyway, he’s not here.”
“Oh? Are you all alone?”
Is it my imagination or does he look… concerned?
“Just for the night. And I lost my keys. Doesn’t matter. Are you going to let me go now?”
When he makes it clear that he has no intention of doing that, I add, “Also, what are you doing in the most dangerous part of Oakley?”
“Following you.”
My eyes widen, and I stare at him, looking for a sign that he’s joking. But he doesn’t seem to be.
“Uhm… that’s a little creepy, isn’t it?”
He merely shrugs. “Someone needs to look after you, since you’re clearly incapable of doing it yourself.”
I open my mouth, wishing I could spew out a long list of curse words so that the idiot knows exactly what I think of him. But I can’t find a single thing to say, other than, “What was that you gave him? Money?”
“Yeah. I paid for the bike.”
“You… paid for it? But it’s mine! Why didn’t you just tell him to shove off?”
“Because, Lia,” says Logan, his voice hard again, “we’re in a bad neighborhood. And that guy is about twice as big as me. So I didn’t exactly have a ton of options for getting you out of there in one piece.”
I hesitate, part of me wanting to thank him. Another part wanting to… beg for a hug, because I’m secretly a little freaked out, and I know I’d feel safe in his arms. Also, I kind of want to know what his hair smells like.
Ridiculous. The third part of me, the one that makes me want to yell at him, because that’s the only way I can make sense of the other weird feelings, comes out on top. As usual.
“Pathetic.” I roll my eyes. “Bet your head is pretty inflated right now, thinking you saved me. But you’re too much of a scaredy-cat to even get into a fight over me. So pathetic. Anyway, aren’t you dirt poor? You’re an orphan. How did you get all that money?”
If Logan looked somewhat amused at the first part of my speech, his lips flatten into a line at the second part. Keeping his iron grip on my arm, he starts pulling me down the street again, seeming to know exactly which friend’s house I’m going to, and where it’s located.
So weird.
But then again, I guess he’s been following me. Does he mean just now, or… has he been making a habit of it?
I gulp nervously at the idea, even though I also feel a bit flattered. What’s wrong with me?
What’s wrong with him?
I hide all the strange emotions behind anger. He has no right to follow me. He has no right to spank me, or pull my hair, or call me a brat, or any of the other things he’s said and done in the past ten minutes!
I’ve all but forgotten the words I hurled at him to hurt him when he suddenly says, “I choose my battles, Lia. Maybe you should too.”
“Huh?”
“And you’re right, I am dirt poor. And an orphan. But I do have some savings.”
“Oh.” I swallow with difficulty, suddenly aware of what that means. “You didn’t… you didn’t use them all on me, did you?”
He gives me a half-shrug, half-nod.
“You did? But why?” I gasp.
Another half-shrug. “How else was I gonna get you out of there?”
“Why does it matter to you whether or not I was going to get out of there? Those are your savings! Why would you waste them on me?”
“I didn’t waste them,” he answers shortly, just as we arrive in front of Sophie’s house. “Can I trust you on your own, Lia? Are you going to be a good girl and behave?”
I’m back to being furious, my mouth opening and closing as I try to show him just what I think of him. The gall of treating me like a baby! He’s not my dad!
“None of your business,” I snap. “Now let me go!”
He smirks. “You really are a little brat, aren’t you? Too bad your dad doesn’t spank you. Let me know if he ever changes his mind about that. I’ll come over and watch.”
My entire body is shaking with rage. Without even thinking, I lift my hands and shove his chest. At once, he grabs my wrists and squeezes them so hard I wonder if he’ll break them.
All trace of humor is gone as he hisses, “Never. Do. That. Again.”
I huff out a sigh of relief when he at last releases me. But I’m not ready to let him have the last word.
“I hate you,” I blurt out, my voice strangled with emotion. “I hate you so much, Logan Colt! And I will hate you for the rest of my life!”
I just have time to take in the hurt look in his eyes before I whip around and stalk up to Sophie’s door.