09/18/2015

chapter nine ;

♡

final day of my suspension. On the next Monday, I would finally return to school – which, quite frankly, did not boost my spirits. Not that I was not happy . . . The death threats had ceased, and Benny spent every day with me.

After school ended, Benny arrived at my house. Leaping onto the bed beside me, he asked, "What do you want to do?"

I shrugged, leaning over to lay my head onto his shoulder. "I don't know. I have a headache, so I'm not really feeling the sandlot right now, but that doesn't mean you don't have to go."

"Staying with you," Benny sighed, resting his head atop my own, closing his eyes. He lazily closed his arm around my waist. "We don't have to do anything."

"You mean, we could just lay here?" I asked. "You seem pretty tired."

"I am," Benny confirmed. "I didn't sleep very well last night. Today's been . . . stressful."

"Stressful?" I pushed myself backward a bit to get a look at Benny's face, his eyes still closed. "How do you mean? Like, actual school stressful, or did something happen?"

Benny's eyes remained closed, although now it seemed a bit forced, as if he did not want to open them. "Well . . . A mix."

"So what happened? . . . . Benny, look at me." And when Benny's dark lashes fluttered open, unveiling his hazel eyes – more green today than brown – I cast a stern look, staring into his eyes, as if to confirm his truthfulness. "What happened?"

The boy moistened his lips by running his tongue between them. "I don't really think you wanna know."

"And by that, you mean I do want to know," I translated. "Just tell me, Benny, it's okay."

"It's just going to start problems, Kayla, and your suspension is finally over," Benny burst, "and I don't want you to get in trouble again."

Now the concern overwhelmed me, and I raised myself upward, propping myself onto my right arm. "Benny," I emphasized, "what happened?"

Benny nibbled at his lower lip, avoiding my gaze. "All right. Look, you deserve to know and everything, it's just that I know how you are, and I don't want you to get into trouble again. But it didn't get far, okay?"

"What didn't get far?" I demanded. "What the hell happened?"

With a sigh, Benny explained. "I was at lunch, and . . . Hannah sat beside me. And I didn't want to be mean, you know, so I didn't say anything. But when she talked to me, I just ignored her, like she wasn't even there – until she started asking about you, and whether you were okay. So I thought she was just trying to be nice and change her ways, and I told her you were fine, that you weren't the one she needed to worry about – 'cause Skylar's sister got the worst injuries. And then she was like, 'Well, that's a good thing, because I've always wanted you,' and all that stupid shit. I guess she took it the wrong way. So I just went back to ignoring her."

By then, my heart already pounded violently against my chest – I could feel the quick thrum in my temple, my wrists, even my forearms. My fists were clenched, as were my jaws, to prevent the trembles of rage. Everything that Benny described flashed like a video in my mind – I could see everything clearly, yet my eyes remained wide and locked on Benny.

"And then," Benny sighed, "she started trying to touch me – like, hug on me and shit. I told her to get off of me, but she wouldn't. And then . . . Remember that girl we met the other day? The one with the super curly hair? She gave you her number – "

"Yeah," I managed to spit, my voice angrier than I had hoped. Of course, my anger was not directed at Benny in any way, but the way his eyes widened, innocent and surprised, caused me to believe that he thought otherwise. In my continuation, I attempted to speak in a softer tone. "Yeah, her name was Ivy. What about her?"

"Well, she showed up," Benny continued, his tone reluctant. "Never really saw her before this, but she came and jerked Hannah away. She literally pulled her out of the chair – Hannah would have fell if Ivy wasn't still holding onto her. She said to leave me alone, that I was taken, and if she saw her try anything like that again, she'd make sure you handled her."

"Why didn't she tell me in the first place?" I inquired, slightly distrusting Ivy, although I did respect her actions.

"She gave you her number," Benny said. "You didn't give her yours."

"Oh," I mumbled, "yeah. . . . Well, what happened after that?"

"Hannah just walked away – she was mad, of course, but I don't think she wanted to mess with you or Ivy, not really. Ivy just nodded at me and walked away after that. She seems cool. Like she's watching out for you or something."

"Why would she be watching out for me when she doesn't even know me?" I frowned. "She literally saw the video of my fight, and now we're best friends? I appreciate what she did, but . . . it's kind of weird."

"I don't know," Benny shrugged. "There's no way to really tell what she's all about, I guess, other than being her friend. Speaking of friend – have you talked to Leah lately?"

"A little bit. We texted a couple times. Anyway, did Hannah try anything else?"

"No," Benny assured, his eyes soft. "And if she did, I would have acted differently . . . So, are you going to try to fight her now?"

"Not in school. If I get suspended again, then I won't be there to stop that shit from happening again."

Benny looped an arm around my waist and let his head drop onto my lap. "At least it won't be in school," he finally mumbled, voice muffled on account of the fact that his lips were pressed against my leg – clothed, of course. "I didn't realize school would be so boring without you."

My fingers threaded through the boy's black hair, and the other trailed across the loose fabric on his back. Although my anger had not subsided, I could not help but to feel a bit satisfied. Whether Ivy seemed sketchy or not, she helped me out – and I appreciated that. In the short time that I met her, her eyes never really found Benny. And by the way Benny described her actions, I was led to believe that, unlike so many other girls, she was not in awe with Benny – which came as quite the surprise.

"We could just . . . rest," I suggested. "It's the weekend. We could do something later."

Benny transferred his head from my lap to a pillow, and with his arms, he pulled me beside him. We lay facing each other, Benny's arms wrapped around me. Our legs curled together, and I pulled a blanket over the both of us. And Benny pressed his warm, soft, plump lips against mine, where they lingered.

"I love you," I mumbled after breaking our lips apart, separating them by half an inch, my eyes shut.

A slight smile curved Benny's lips. "I love you more."

♡

Two hours passed before I escaped a sweet dream about Benny. When I awoke, I was pleased to find that he remained at my side. In sleep, all of the worry left his face – he looked utterly peaceful, innocent. His lips were parted, allowing an exit for his slow, steady breathing.

The house was eerily silent. Upon peering into my brother's bedroom, Luke's absence was recognized. A few stairs creaked as I made my descent into the living room. Sunlight shone through the sealed windows, its brilliance stifled only slightly through the thin, white curtains. Under any other circumstances, the house may have held a peaceful air – but an odd sensation prickled the back of my neck.

Any time I had ever heard of people sensing the presence of someone in their house, I had failed to realize how that was possible. I had never felt it before. Now, something felt off – and the feeling was not quite like someone was with me, but as if something had been touched, moved out of place.

For a while, I stood in the center of the living room, searching from afar for some sign of any strange activity. Even in my subconscious, I knew that I looked ridiculous. Eventually, I sighed, brushed away the odd feeling, and made my way to the kitchen.

With a glass of water, I returned to my bedroom, to Benny's still form. A smile grew on my lips at the sight of him – the way his hair was swept to the side and left out of his clear, shining face. Warmth burst inside of me, spreading throughout my veins, tingling at my fingertips. Even in my young age, I knew that I wanted to wake to see that face every day.

And then I saw it – the thing that did not belong. Tucked below the pillow in which mine and Benny's head had rested was a piece of paper, a ripped edge peeking from the fabric. I was certain that I had never left a paper there.

Hands shaking, I leaned over, tugged the paper free, and studied the surface. Drawn in thick, black marker was the image of an eye – in colored pencils, the iris was a swirl of blue and green, and thick, long eyelashes in black. Under the eye, in red marker, were two words, all in capital letters:

The message did not speak to me; I had no idea what it meant. But I did know that the person who had left it had been in house while I had been asleep. The cup slipped from my fingertips, but I did not notice – not until the glass shattered against the hardwood floor, spraying my feet with shards of glass and icy water.

Benny jolted awake – either the sound of the shattering glass or my own gasp awoke him. He wrenched himself upright at the sight of me, his eyes now wide with surprise.

"Kayla, what happened?" Benny demanded, his voice slightly husky with sleep.

My trembling fingers gripped the paper tightly, but upon Benny's question, I let myself drop it. The paper fluttered to the bed, as if it were a feather, drifting along in the breeze. In my subconscious, I imagined the silhouette of a person lying in a hammock, not a care in the world, even in their facelessness.

"What the hell – " Benny broke off, staring at the paper more intently. A deep frown formed on his face, his lips pulled back in a confused sort of smile. "Is this another one? A threat?"

"It wasn't there when we went to sleep, Benny." The words formed with an effort, laced with worry and terror. The shards of glass that prickled at my wet feet hardly mattered. "I know it wasn't. I think someone came into the house while . . ."

Benny whipped out his phone. "We have to call the police."

"Okay, but what can they do? We have no idea who it could be – " Suddenly, my mouth tightened. "Put the phone down."

"What? Why?"

"I think I might know who it is," I mumbled. "It's just a guess, but I can't think of anyone else who's out to get me. No one who would have been out to get me by the time I started getting the letters, I mean."

"You think it's Hannah." It was not a question, but rather a realization statement.

"I mean, how well do you really know her? It never went anywhere between you two. So how could you know if she wasn't a fucking psycho? What if she wanted you so bad, she was willing to start a fire – "

"Kayla," Benny cut in, still gripping his phone, "think. You threatened her, but it never went further than that. Even if she was psychotic like that, I don't think she'd try to kill you for embarrassing her."

I shrugged. "I don't know. There are some screwed up people in this world. I don't know her enough to put it beneath her. She's probably obsessed with Pretty Little Liars."

"I . . . Fine. Talk to her about it. Beat her ass, even, if she started the fire. But talk to her about it first – and hope that the letters really are from her and not some crazy murderer."

"She could be that crazy murderer," I stated, raising a finger.

point of view.

Her blonde locks fell loosely, brushing the bare skin of her pale back. Hands pressed between my head and the pillow, I watched her – as she slipped on a large, white T-shirt and a pair of underwear.

Skylar turned to face me. Her lips were lightly parted, allowing the escape of her heavier-than-usual exhales; the usual light blue shade of her eyes had darkened. No longer did she look like the innocent girl I had once met – at least, whom I had believed she was.

"Want anything to eat?" Skylar asked.

A slight smile formed on my lips; I could not tear my eyes away from the girl's beauty. "No, thanks. I have to get back home."

"Oh," Skylar stood to her feet, "right." She smirked. "Is there anything you want before you leave?"

Suddenly, the blonde slid onto the bed, her knees and hands sliding across the silky sheets. Eyes locked on mine, a smirk lingering on her lips, Skylar crawled toward me. "Anything?" she repeated, running her tongue between her lips.

Before I had the chance to reply, Skylar ducked and pressed her wet lips to my bare stomach. My muscles tensed on instinct, and she giggled against me before moving her lips downward. A blanket obscured my lower half, and if she moved it . . .

"I hate to tell you no, but I don't have much time," I forced myself to say. My eyes fluttered shut. "Actually, I was supposed to be home, like, two minutes ago."

"Your sister's home alone all the time," Skylar said, lifting her head to face me. "Come on, she'll be fine."

"She asked me to come home, and I told her I would. Benny's leaving to some last minute trip," I pressed, sitting up. Skylar pouted, pushing herself upward until she sat cross-legged. "I've been with you all day. I'll be back." I curved my fingers around the back of her head and pulled her lips onto mine.

Skylar pulled away. "Fine," she sighed. "I just feel really good right now. I didn't want the moment to end just yet."

As I reached over and snatched my clothes from the ground, I said, "I could come back tonight."

"Please do," Skylar beamed, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "I'll be counting on it, mister."

Once dressed, Skylar sent me away with one more deep kiss. Even on the speedy journey to my house, my heart still beat at a pace quicker than normal. The tingling feel of Skylar's lips lingered on my skin . . . How did she manage to have me so wrapped around her finger?

Before entering my home, I made sure to run my fingers through my messy hair. Finally, I parked my car in the driveway, locked the doors, and made my way inside. Makayla sat on the couch, staring at the screen of the television – The Walking Dead, needless to say.

"Mom's going to be home in half an hour," Makayla informed me. "She's ordering pizza."

"Did you tell her to get the pineapple pizza?"

"We can't all keep up with your obsessions," my sister rolled her eyes. "How was I supposed to know? Tell her yourself."

"I was just asking you," I frowned. "Don't gotta be a bitch about it."

Makayla slowly averted her gaze to me, a glare now replacing her concentrated expression. "And I was just telling you, dumbass. I'm gonna tell Mom you don't want anything."

Just then, before I could shoot an insult, a knock sounded at the door. For a moment, I debated whether to leave and force Makayla to answer the door, but then I decided against it. And when I did, the breath hitched in the back of my throat.

There Elizabeth stood, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail, with her glowing olive skin and her full, glossy lips, her dark, beautiful eyes rising to meet mine. Beauty radiated from her, although it was clear that not an ounce of effort was put forth. She had not worn any makeup at all, and yet she managed to look like the most stunning model –

I shoved the thoughts aside as quickly as they had come. Liz is my best friend, nothing more, I told myself fiercely. I'm not allowed to think about her this way.

"Hey," Liz greeted, her eyes flitting to find Makayla. "Is Benny here? Mom and I are ready to – "

"Right here," Benny's voice rang. Moments later, he emerged from the small hallway between the staircase and the living room couch – directly ahead of the front door. He had been using the bathroom. "We're ready?"

Liz nodded, avoiding my gaze completely. I stepped out of the way, sensing the awkward air. The last time Elizabeth and I had spent real time together was when I took her out. After that, we only spoke to each other briefly during our classes or in the hallways. Something had clearly changed, and I failed to recognize what it was.

"So, where you guys going?" I inquired – the question was directed mostly at Elizabeth, but she was not the one to reply.

"A private place," Benny answered. "We used to go there a lot, but we haven't been in years."

I nodded. "Well . . . I hope you all have a good time. Be safe."

The Rodriguez siblings spoke their goodbyes, although Makayla earned a bit more than words. Soon, the two exited the house, making their way across the street. I watched as she walked . . .

"Where were you?" Makayla inquired, her eyes still locked on the screen of the television.

"Keep your nose on your face," I grumbled, rolling my eyes and stepping away from the door. "Don't worry about what I'm doing."

"I was just asking! My God," she huffed. "What's your problem?"

"You're being annoying."

Makayla rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Go back to wherever you came from. If someone breaks in and tries to kill me, I'll fend for myself – It's okay, Glenn, Carol's about to blow shit up, you'll be okay."

point of view.

After eating pizza with my mother and brother, a knock sounded at the door. Luke answered as I continued watching the The Walking Dead marathon. When he pulled the door open, my eyes flickered to the opening on instinct – and my heart dropped.

Luke glanced back at me, eyebrows furrowed. "Someone wants to see you."

A snide remark nearly escaped my lips, but I decided against it at the last minute. With a deep sigh, I stood to my feet and made my way to the door. There he stood, with his light hair and dark eyes.

"Phillips."

Jordan offered a hopeful smile. "I've been doing everything the guys asked me. And I think they're growing on me . . ."

"Okay . . . So why are you here?"

"Well, I haven't seen you in over a week, and I wanted to see how you were doing," Jordan explained. "Nothing else – I just wanted to check on you, maybe talk a little bit."

Crossing my arms, I said, "I'm all right. You?"

A smile grew on Jordan's lips, revealing his straight, white teeth. "I'm good."

"Why are you smiling like that?" I frowned.

The smile on his lips only grew. Although he shrugged, he gave an explanation. "You didn't blow me off. I think I might be growing on you too."

I shrugged, avoiding the boy's gaze. "You're not the worst person to be around anymore."

"I was a dumbass before," Jordan admitted. "I don't know what I thought I was going to accomplish by being an asshole. You didn't deserve that. Um . . . could I come in?"

My heartbeat sped. The Sandlot Boys were, quite frankly, mostly using Jordan to their advantage while he allowed them to. For the most part, they probably did not favor the boy they still called Phillips. But he was working to earn their respect, and some admitted that he was becoming more likable. Even still, I felt as though by simply speaking to Jordan, I was doing something wrong.