Chapter 4
Mallorie Jade
15 years old
Langston is late—again. He was supposed to pick me up from dance lessons over thirty minutes ago. Now, I’m the last one here.
I hate it when he does this because Mrs. Jefferson, the old nag who is my dance teacher, always looks like she might bite someone’s head off.
Well, me too, lady.
It’s not like I asked to be forgotten—though I should be used to it. When it comes to my family, I’m always the forgotten one—the one that can’t measure up.
Langston, however, can do no wrong. This is the fourth time he’s been late in a month, and has he gotten in trouble once?
No, sirree, he hasn’t.
He isn’t a bad brother. I kind of like him when he doesn’t forget me places, but he falls too hard into the pressures of our parents’ expectations—always taking on more.
I gave that up years ago when I realized that the bar is always being moved higher and higher. It’s impossible to satisfy my mother, so why try?
It’s who Langston is, though—ever the people pleaser. Because of it, he’s in every scholastic club imaginable, killing himself to maintain his grades and get a football scholarship. It’s stupid if you ask me. He doesn’t even like football.
Kicking at a rock on the sidewalk, I peek over my shoulder into the window of the dance studio. Mrs. Jefferson’s eyes glare back at me, sending a cold chill down my spine.
Old nag.
I turn back around when I hear a truck revving its engine as it comes down Main Street, and when I catch the square body of an old Chevy, my heart does a little pitter-patter in my chest. There’s only one person in this town who has a truck like that, and I just so happen to be tragically in love with him.
Frantically, I reach up to smooth my hair, but the locks are a frizzy mess from class. There’s no fixing it—not that it matters anyway. Hayes has never once looked at me as more than his best friend’s little sister, but a girl can dream.
Cursing my luck, I plaster a bright smile on my face as my brother’s best friend pulls up to the curb.
When he’s fully stopped in front of me, Hayes leans over inside the cab and cranks his window down as I step closer and peek in.
“Hey, Hayes, what’s up?”
He throws me a boyish grin, and butterflies dance in my stomach. The boy is handsome. With dark hair that’s shaggy enough to fall across the top of his eyes and a jaw that’s sharper than that of any boy my age—he is the epitome of a teenage girl’s dream, but it’s his eyes that draw me in and make me forget that he’s a year older than me and completely off limits.
Those eyes turn wary, and then he clears his throat. Heat flames my cheeks as I realize that he was talking to me while I stared at him like a love-struck idiot.
Looking at the sky, I say a silent prayer. Please, God, let the ground swallow me whole. I promise I’ll make it to Sunday school next week if you do.
It doesn’t work, but thankfully, Hayes doesn’t linger on the fact that he caught me ogling. Instead, he pretends it didn’t happen and says, “Langston asked me to pick you up. He is getting in an extra practice with Coach. I’m sorry I’m late. I had to grab a shower.”
When I see my brother again, he’s dead meat.
“I can call my parents. You didn’t have to come out here.”
I’d bet a million dollars that if I looked in the mirror right now, my skin would be the color of an overripe tomato.
“MJ,” he says as he reaches across the bench seat towards the passenger door handle. “Just get in the truck.”
With one jerk of his hand, the door pops open, and I step back, chewing on my lip.
On one hand, this is my chance to be alone with Hayes, but on the other—I’ll be alone with Hayes. It’s statistically guaranteed I’ll do something stupid in the ten-minute drive to my house.
Glancing at the clock on his dashboard, I realize it’s already six o’clock. It will get dark soon, and I don’t want to be here alone when it does. I’ll deny this if anyone ever asks, but at fifteen, I’m still terrified of the dark, and I would rather take my chances being alone with Hayes.
Decision made, I throw my bag into the cab of his truck and climb in, pulling the door closed behind me. His truck has a bench seat, and if I were brave, I would throw my bag on the floor and scoot next to him, but I’m not brave. Instead, I use my bag as a buffer, making sure it stays tight on the seat between us.
“What tunes are we listening to?” Hayes asks, oblivious to the fact that I’m trying not to hyperventilate from being so close to him.
Shrugging my shoulder, I say, “You pick.”
I don’t make eye contact, keeping them firmly planted on the dash in front of me. Hayes is like looking at the sun—stare too long, and it starts to hurt.
The radio flips from station to station until he finally lands on one. A country song croons through the radio, and for the rest of my life, I’ll never forget how Hayes’s smooth voice serenades me as he drives me home.
It will forever be in my top ten moments.
______________________
“Mallorie Jade, will you come down here a moment,” my mother calls from the foot of the stairs.
Dread fills my stomach, making me want to puke. When I got home earlier, she stood at the door as Hayes dropped me off. Her sharp eyes narrowed when Hayes ran around the truck and opened my door for me, but she didn’t say anything as I walked past her and into the house—something very unlike her. I should have known she wouldn’t let it go long—not that it’s my fault Langston forgot me.
Sighing, I shove my homework off my lap and crawl off my bed. It won’t do to keep the queen waiting.
My feet are like lead as I lift them, taking me to my doom. When I’m standing in front of her at the bottom of the steps, she doesn’t bother explaining what she called me here for. She flicks her cherry red fingernail, indicating for me to follow, and says, “Come along.”
I follow like a well-trained puppy—except I’m not. I push the rules just to see how far they will bend until they finally break because maybe when they break, I’ll be able to be me—the real me, not the one my mother tries to force me to be. But my journey to being myself is long, and sometimes I have to choose my battles. This is not one I want to fight, so I follow behind her, keeping quiet as we go.
Our house is big. Dr. and Mrs. Harrison wouldn’t stand for anything else, but as we pass room after unused room, I can’t help but think of the coziness of the house Hayes lives in.
Langston went over there this summer, and being the annoying little sister that I am, I insisted on coming along. It had nothing to do with hanging out with my big brother and everything to do with the fact that I wanted a chance to see Hayes in his element. When we got there, I was shocked by his family’s pure love for each other. His mom was warm and welcoming, inviting me into their house with a hug. It made me long for something our house will never be.
“I need to discuss your father’s award ceremony with you. Sit,” she says, pointing to a high-backed chair in the library. She takes the chair directly across from mine, sitting gracefully and tucking her ankles together to cross her legs.
She waits until I’m sitting to continue. “I’ve spoken with your father, and we both think it’s time that you start directing your attention to more appropriate avenues. That mind of yours likes to run amok, and you are getting too old for that. I’m in charge of planning the award ceremony at the hospital this year, and you will help me.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask. “Will we be getting quality mother-daughter time, baking, cooking, and putting together centerpieces?”
I’m afraid my eye is twitching from how hard I’m fighting back a smirk. We both know she doesn’t get involved in menial things like that.
She looks down her nose at me, her stare regal and deadly all at once.
“If you are done with your sarcasm, I will continue.”
According to her, I’m never done being sarcastic, but I sigh and nod my head anyway.
“Good. Now, here is the guest list. We will review that together, and your father and I have decided that you are old enough to bring a date along this year if you would like. Here is a list of boys whom we have pre-approved. Choose wisely from that list,” she says, slipping the list into my hands that have suddenly turned to ice.
Horror hits me in the chest at the idea that my parents think I would ever choose one of their approved boys to date. Add on the fact that they have a list, to begin with, and it’s a recipe for disaster mixed with a healthy dose of meddling.
My hands shake as I place the note on the side table next to me. From anger or horror, who can really say? They both inevitably feel the same when I’m in my mother’s presence.
“No, thank you,” I say, going for the polite socialite smile that’s been drilled into me since I was a toddler.
Surprise filters across her face for a second, but my mother seems to view emotions as a weakness, so she quickly schools her face back into her polite mask. I don’t know why she’s shocked. It’s not like I typically fall in line with her demands.
“If you are not ready to bring a date to a function, your father and I understand. However, I would like to make this perfectly clear—you are to stay away from Hayes Miller. He may be the poor boy your brother took in, but he will not become your stray as well.”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks because it’s clear that she’s caught onto my crush on Hayes, but I thought I had done a good job at hiding it. To try and save face, I say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hayes gave me a ride home from dance because Langston stayed late to practice.”
Her lips purse as she stares at me, distaste clear in the set of her mouth.
“I see how you look at the boy when he is not looking, Mallorie Jade. Do not patronize me. However, I have made my feelings clear on the matter, and you will obey them.”
She stares at me until I give her a sharp nod, then says, “One more thing. I’m positive your brother has chosen someone appropriate for the function, but I’ll need you to keep an eye on him. You know he has a bleeding heart for things. People like to take advantage of that. At least that’s one thing I can count on you for—you’re always good at watching out for your brother.”
Just not from you and Dad.
The words weigh on my tongue, waiting for me to spit them out, but I take too long.
“You’re dismissed.”
As I walk away with my back ramrod straight, my hands ball into fists.
Later that night, I’m lying on my bed working on homework when I hear Langston’s truck pull into the driveway. My eyes nearly bug out of my head when I glance at the clock and see it’s after nine.
It’s always like this—Langston runs himself ragged, to the point that he nearly collapses from exhaustion, and then gets up and does it again the next day.
It almost makes me forget I’m mad at him—almost.
Tiptoeing out of my room, I wait for him outside of my room.
His head is down as he climbs the stairs, so he doesn’t notice me. A defeated slump in his shoulders breaks my heart. He’s my big brother, the first to always jump to my defense, but I can’t save him from himself—or our parents.
“Hey, jerk,” I call quietly when he reaches the top step. Our parents’ bedroom is downstairs, but our mother hears everything. It’s like she has supersonic hearing.
His head whips up, and when he sees me, he winces, signs of guilt written on his face.
My stomach turns because he already has enough on his plate. I should let this go, but somehow I can’t because seeing the purple pigment under his eyes from lack of sleep and bruises on his body from hours of football practice causes anger to burn through my whole body.
He speaks first, and it flames my anger higher.
“I’m sorry.”
Two simple words, but it’s like a bucket of gasoline being thrown on the flames.
“Langston, enough is enough. You have to tell Mom and Dad they’re putting too much pressure on you.”
He shakes his head and straightens his shoulders, pulling himself to his full height. His 6’ 2” to my 5’ 4” makes it so he thinks he can get out of conversations just by standing taller and appearing intimidating. He should have learned by now, though, that nothing intimidates me.
“No,” I say, stomping my foot. “Don’t do that. For goodness sake, Langston, talk to me. I’m your sister. You can talk to me.”
“I’m fine, Squirt. I promise. Just tired.”
He gives me a smile that is so typical of Langston. It’s light and bright, showing off all his teeth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes—only the ones looking for it see that. He’ll make a good politician someday.
Ruffling my hair, he slips down the hallway to his bedroom door. When he’s standing in front of it, he turns back to me and says, “I really am sorry. I’ll do better next time, okay?”
And I swear my heart shatters for him. He’s just a kid. Sixteen is too young to feel all of this pressure, but he won’t listen to me.
“It’s okay, L. I know you’re trying your best. Besides, it wasn’t so bad hanging out with Hayes.”
My cheeks burn as he throws back his head and laughs. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you feel hearty and alive just from listening to it. I haven’t told anyone about my crush on Hayes, but the way Langston’s looking at me with a mixture of pity and humor makes me think he figured it out like my mom. I really must not be as subtle as I thought.
“I bet it was,” he says as he opens his door. “I bet it was.”
He steps into his room and shuts the door, and I’m left standing in the hallway, vowing never to tell Langston if I ever get up the nerve to kiss Hayes Miller like I want to.