Not Cinderella's Type, Page 2

  The crackers weren’t too bad. I was worried they’d be stale or something, but they were fine. So I ate and hung out in my room, deciding that if I couldn’t leave without walking right past the party, I’d better do something productive. After about ten minutes, homework was a no-go. This headache wasn’t playing around. I probably needed some Tylenol or something. But again, that was stored in the medicine cabinet, and I’d have to pass by the presentation to get it. I sighed and plopped down on my bed.

  Laughter.

  Those women could stay up there all afternoon.

  I stared at the ceiling, trying to decide if I’d rather sleep off the rest of my headache, but I wasn’t really tired anymore.

  Then the strangest thing happened. I swore I heard Clarise’s voice laughing and chattering as she headed down the stairs.

  “Indy loves company! Her room is down here. She likes the peace and quiet away from her cousins upstairs.”

  Holy cow! Was she bringing some of her friends down here to see me? I quickly grabbed a comb and began hacking at my hair and then threw a sweatshirt on over my PJ top. I flung the bedspread over the messy sheets and chucked a couple of pillows off the floor to land near the headboard. Then I stuffed some clothes back into my drawers that were hanging out.

  Clarise knocked and used her sticky-sweet voice. “Indy? Are you there? We’ve got something that’ll cheer you up.”

  This really was happening. How could this be happening? The last thing I wanted was some weird-smelling oils on me. “Yeah, I’m here. Just a second.” I scooped up a ton of trash and put it in the can near the door.

  “How are you feeling?” she called through the door.

  “Great. A lot better now that I’ve slept.” I zipped up my backpack and shoved it in the far corner, and then tossed my shoes beside the dresser. I quickly glanced around. No embarrassing underwear anywhere. Room looked pretty decent. My head was definitely pounding again.

  I pasted a smile on my face as I opened the door. “Hi.” And then that smile dropped. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER THREE:

  Bryant looked over at Clarise and then gave a nervous laugh. He opened his mouth to say something, but my aunt beat him to it.

  “Look who came by!” she gushed. “That guy who hit your cat. He wants to apologize, and has a present for you. Isn’t he so sweet?”

  “Very.” It took every bit of self-control not to glare at him as I moved back and let him in the room.

  “Well, you two have fun. I still have some guests over.” She went to turn back down the hall. “Oh, and Indy, I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  “Okay.” Nice. I shut the door and looked at him.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  All at once, I felt incredibly uncomfortable with Bryant Bailey in my bedroom. He was way too tall for this little space and made the whole place shrink. Before I died of claustrophobia, I opened the door and left it wide open. “So why are you really here?” I asked.

  He took a deep breath. “I knew you’d say no, so I came without asking.”

  “Caught that. So what do you want?”

  “I’d like us to be friends.”

  I blinked. Was this some sort of joke or something? “What?”

  “I want to get to know you. Be your friend.”

  “No.” I walked out of the room and down the hall to the cold, unused den. At least it was a bigger space than my tiny, creepy bedroom. The den had a couple of brown leather couches and a large TV. It was supposed to be used for football games and movie nights, but everyone else had a TV in their bedroom and a large one in the upstairs family room, so they really didn’t get together for much down here. Hence the reason why the den was pretty much always cold.

  Bryant followed me. “Look, do you have something against having guy friends?”

  “Of course not. Maxton Hoyster is one of my best friends.” I plopped down on the smallest couch and put my feet on the other seat so he’d have to take the larger one. “Guys are way easier to get along with than girls.”

  “So?”

  “Bryant, you’re only being my friend out of pity. No one wants a pity friend—or a pity date, for that matter. We’d all like to have stuff in our lives that’s genuine.”

  “Who said anything about a date? Besides, I’m genuinely worried about you. Is that a start?”

  I rolled my eyes and sat back. “You’re not worried about me any more than my aunt and uncle are. You don’t know me well enough to be worried about me.” I paused. “What’s in that bag? It smells good.”

  “This?” He dangled it out with a long arm. “I brought you a peace offering.”

  “Food?” I scooted forward.

  “Captain Jack’s famous burger.”

  “You’re kidding.” My mouth was already watering.

  “And fries.” He grinned. “See? I knew I could get on your good side eventually.”

  “You have no idea. I’m starving!”

  Without another word, he handed the whole bag over to me. Inside were two burgers and two packages of fries. Still warm. “You will be blessed by the gods for this.” I pulled out one of each and tossed him back the bag.

  “Are you sure you don’t want more? The way you’re digging in to that burger, I have no problem giving you mine too.”

  For the first time in a long time, I laughed. It was around a bite of food, but I laughed anyway. After I’d calmed my ravenous appetite and began to eat like a normal human being again, I asked, “So, how did you know I’d be hungry?”

  “Because I’d spent a good chunk of my morning lying in bed feeling sorry for myself and thinking about you, and when I realized I was hungry, I figured you were probably hungry too. It was a simple math equation, really.” He grinned a devastatingly handsome grin and leaned back on the couch, holding the rest of his burger. “I have three sisters, and I know that when they get upset, they live in their rooms. And then once they finally emerge the next day, they’ve turned into ornery wolves desperate to eat anything they can get their hands on.” He took a bite. “So one plus one equals two. I knew if I was hungry, chances were you’d be too.”

  I stared at him for a long time before I said anything. I honestly didn’t want to trust Bryant. I didn’t want to be his friend, either—or anything else, for that matter. Not that there’d be anything else—I just didn’t understand him, I guess. After the last of my fries were gone, I asked, “So why me? Why have you decided to stalk me?”

  His eyebrows jumped up. “You think I stalk you? Like I’m a crazy stalker-person?”

  Well, if the shoe fits … I didn’t say anything, and eventually, he nodded.

  “Okay, I guess I can see why you’d find me a little odd.”

  “Ha. I wish you were odd. Odd, I could handle.”

  He smirked. “Fine. Scary, then. From your perspective, I guess I can see why.”

  “Okay, but why are you here? You didn’t answer that.”

  He finished off his burger, tossed his empty wrapper in the brown bag, and then chucked it over to me to do the same. “I don’t know why. Beyond feeling bad about—er, hitting your cat.”

  “The word is murder. You murdered my cat.”

  He smiled ruefully. “All right. Beyond feeling bad about murdering your cat, I don’t know why I’m here.” Shrugging, he continued, “I know I need to be. Something about you . . . about this . . . I’m not done. I should be here, be next to you, so I am.”

  What in the world? “You say that like you’re part of some disturbing psychic movie or something.”

  “It’s not psychic—it’s just a feeling. You need me. Or maybe I need you—something here clicks, and it hasn’t ever clicked with other people before.”

  “Right. Now I’m just terrified. You can leave anytime.”

  He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Indy, stop. You know I’m not a psycho. I figured you’re the type of girl who wants the plain tr
uth, no sugar coating, just what it is. So I’m here. Telling you the truth. I don’t know . . . I only know I feel better talking to you.”

  “Ugh. Bryant, this has nothing to do with me. If you need to come over here to feel better about killing my cat, fine. You can placate yourself and show up, I guess. But to say this is for me too—that’s where I call you on it. If this was about me, you’d walk away and leave me alone.”

  Those dark eyes bore into mine, and for an instant, I could hardly breathe. What was it about this guy that was so fascinating, anyway? Something about him, about his stupid need to be here, was oddly intriguing.

  “Indy, you’re wrong. You think you’ve got the whole world sorted into little boxes, and when someone steps out of their box and does something you aren’t expecting, you try your hardest to push them back in. Well, I don’t fit. I’m not meant to fit. Your walls are high and thick, but I’ll get through them somehow. Wait and see.”

  A flash of irritation swept through me. “So much for thinking we were getting somewhere. When are you leaving again?” I pretended to look at a watch I most definitely didn’t have on. “Now?”

  Bryant stood up, and for a second, my heart dropped. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want him to go. I shoved the feeling down and stood too. “Well, thanks for the lunch. You rock.” My attempt at a thank you was awkwardly lame, but I said the right words, and that had to count for something. I couldn’t even look him in the eye as I started to walk out of the room.

  “Indy, what are you doing?”

  I turned back. “Showing you the door.”

  One corner of his mouth rose up in this semi-adorable grin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What? But you stood up.”

  “Yeah. I thought I’d change it up a little. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  “But . . .?” I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved.

  “So, I found something out the other day.”

  I blinked, not sure where he was headed with this. “Okay?”

  “It’s kind of important. Do you want to go somewhere else to talk? Go get ice cream? Maybe a walk in the park? A drive somewhere?”

  “I—” I think my jaw might have hit the ground. Bryant wanted to take me someplace to talk. Was that his way of asking me out on a date? My aunt would lose her mind, especially after that morning. “I really don’t think I can.”

  He sighed. “Look, Indy. I’m not trying to make things weird here. But I’m serious. My dad told me something, and I’d like to talk to you about it.”

  “Okay. Aside from the fact that you’re totally weird and I don’t trust you and all that, I really mean I don’t think I can. As in, I’m not sure I’m allowed to leave this house with you. My aunt is . . . uh . . . things are . . . well, anyway. I don’t think I could leave. But I’m curious. What did your dad have to say?” I walked back over and sat down on the couch. This time, he came and sat right next to me. I should’ve kicked him out when I had the chance. Dang it.

  Bryant leaned back, probably because I was acting like a dork, but I didn’t care. I preferred to have my own personal space.

  “So, you were saying?” I folded my arms.

  “This is going to be unusual, so give me a second to explain.”

  I laughed again. I couldn’t help it. “Bryant, nothing about you is usual.”

  “Yeah, well, okay. I’m just going to jump in there and say it.” His dark eyes looked right into mine. “So, about five years ago, my dad came home from work really late. There was a car accident. He’d been the car behind her when she was hit by a truck and then swerved into oncoming traffic and was hit again by a semi.”

  Oh, my gosh. I put my hands to my mouth. “Stop.”

  “No. Let me finish. Please.”

  I closed my eyes and promised myself I wouldn’t cry. “Okay.” My voice barely came out as a whisper.

  “He was the one to call 911. Then he stopped traffic and rushed to her. My dad never said how bad it was, only that she was dying, and he knew she would never make it to the hospital. So while the ambulance came and the firefighters and the cops and everything, he held her hand. And she said something.”

  “Mom.” I began to cry. I couldn’t help it. I was grateful someone was there for her, but so mad it wasn’t me.

  “She said, ‘Please tell Cindy I love her. Tell my Indy that she is and will always be a princess. Tell her that no matter what I’ll be with her—I wouldn’t leave her. She’ll be scared that I’ve left her like her dad. Tell her I’m there.’

  “She held on to my dad’s hands and asked him to give you the message. When I finally confessed to my dad the other day that I’d hit a girl’s cat and she went to school with me and her name was Indy, he told me the rest and asked me to come see you.”

  I wiped at my face. “So that’s how you knew my name was Cindy?”

  Bryant nodded, his own eyes wet. “My dad told me, because your mom told him. You’re Cinderella.”

  CHAPTER FOUR:

  If I’d have been standing, I would’ve fallen down. “How long did your dad talk to my mom before she died?” What else had she told him?

  “I asked him the same question.” Bryant shook his head. “Like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.” He plucked at the leather on the couch. “They talked a lot. My dad was trying everything to keep her awake and focused on him instead of the pain. He said he could tell what a good woman she was—and more importantly, how much she loved her daughter. She didn’t dwell on anything negative, but just focused on how grateful she was to have you. And how you gave her the will and strength and drive to go on.”

  I wiped at more tears. My headache was never going to go away. I was sure of it. Not after today.

  Bryant still didn’t look up at me. “My dad kind of rambled. It was like these memories of your mom’s death came back to him. He said she was beautiful. Even with the mess of the car wreck, he could still tell she was beautiful.”

  “She was,” I whispered.

  “She loved you.”

  “She did. If I knew anything in my life, I knew I was loved. Cherished.”

  He nodded, and then wiped his eyes some more. “I’m sorry, Indy.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, junk happens to everyone, right? It’s what life is all about. Bad things happening to people.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess. That’s part of it, but you didn’t mention the other part.”

  This time, our gazes locked. “And what’s that?”

  “Life isn’t only about the trials. It’s about how you overcome them.”

  I flinched slightly and tried to look away, but couldn’t. Something about his words ripped through me in a way I hadn’t been pierced before. “What do you mean?”

  Bryant tilted his head as he looked at me. He was seriously good at long, soul-searching stares. It was like being hypnotized.

  “What?” I asked as I attempted to break the spell he had over me.

  “Trials don’t stop—they never will. It’s how you learn from them, grow from them, and help others learn and grow too that defines you as a person.”

  I still had no idea what he meant.

  “You could choose to stay here hidden away and hate life, or you can choose to move forward and help others heal. To reach out in the community and become something to someone else. You’re not alone. People die every day. It’s kind of inevitable. However, you could help and grow from what happened to promising others can move on too.”

  I was feeling a little out of my element and kind of annoyed. “So, are you saying I’m lost here?”

  “I’d say you’re pretty angry at life right now. I don’t know who that girl is that my dad learned about five years ago—that one your mom told him about. I don’t see her.”

  “It’s because she’s dead! She died when my mom died.” Suddenly, I’d had enough of Bryant Bailey. “You can go now, all right? Just leave.” I stood up. I’d heard all I was willi
ng to. I was sick of his prying and meddling and making all the pain come back. What was he, anyway? “You’re a kid like me, Bryant. I’m sixteen—you’re probably seventeen. You’re not some therapist—you’re just a guy who’s decided all this stuff and thinks you can help me. Well, you can’t. So just go.”

  “Indy, wait.” He stood up. “I know this is hard to take in all at once, with my dad’s story and all that. I know. I’m sorry. I can slow down. I only wanted to help. That’s all.”

  “I don’t need it. Can’t you see that? I’m perfectly fine on my own. In fact, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be a crying mess anyway. Just go away and leave me alone.”

  “All my instincts say stay right here.”

  “Your instincts need to get a reality check. This isn’t about you—it’s about me. I’ve been saying the same thing, and you’re not listening.”

  “If I leave now, I may never get this close again.”

  What in the—“Oh, yes, you’re right. We’re done. This closeness thing you’re trying to create is so over. That was ruined about three minutes ago when you were trying to evaluate my life. My life. Okay? It’s mine. Get that through your head.” I picked up an accent pillow and debated throwing it at his stubborn skull. “You know what I need? I need to breathe and walk and get through high school and qualify for some college somewhere so I can get a real job and get myself out of this house and on my own where I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, without anyone else telling me things I don’t want to hear.”

  “It sounds like an awesome plan. I’d do that.”

  Urgh! I wanted to shove him across the room. No one had ever irritated me as much as this guy. “Just what are you trying to save me from, Bryant? What makes you so certain I need saving?”