My Clueless Broken Heart (School Dayz #3) Page 9

  “I’ll get it.”

  “The boyfriend has arrived,” she announces.

  “Friend. Just a friend.” I race through the kitchen and throw open the back door. Travis pounces in a very un-Travis like way, lifting me off my feet as he kisses me with an unusual lack of restraint. He must have missed my parents’ rental car sitting in the driveway.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks when, for perhaps the first time ever, my level of enthusiasm fails to meet his.

  I take a deep breath, hoping to ease into the big reveal. “We have company. My parents are here.”

  His eyebrows inch higher. “Like in this house? Not in Africa?”

  I nod. “Like on the other side of that wall. I think we need to be—more discrete—around them.”

  “Discrete. Understood.” He backs away, like I’ve contracted a fatal disease.

  “Not that discrete.” I reach for him, sliding my arms around his waist. “Thanks, Travis. It’s just until they leave, which I’m sure will be soon.”

  He rubs my back in a soothing motion. “No problem. Do you need to cancel our plans tonight?”

  “No. Avery told them about us being—friends. We’re having pizza for dinner. Want some?”

  All conversation grinds to a halt when Travis follows me into the dining room. Avery smiles widely at him. He takes a seat next to me, but we might as well be allergic to each other, because he proceeds to act as if I’m invisible.

  “How’s school, Travis?” Gran asks, like she’s already forgotten the first semester update he gave her the first night he was home.

  “Over,” he says. “For a few weeks, anyway.”

  “You don’t like school?” Mom asks.

  Travis finishes chewing his bite of pizza before answering. “I like school a lot. But I had a heavy schedule last semester.”

  “So … you’re in college?” Dad raises his glass of wine.

  “Yes, a freshman.” Travis hides his clenched fist under the table.

  “Do you know how old Becca is?” Mom asks.

  Heat shoots up the back of my neck.

  “Becca and I have known each other a long time,” Travis answers in a flat voice. “To answer your question, yes. I know exactly how old she is.”

  A deafening silence sweeps through the room. I hear Gran’s dentures clicking as she chews.

  “Exactly how do you two know each other?” Mom finally asks.

  Avery huffs. “Duh, Mom. Travis is Mr. Brennen’s son. He’s been around here longer than we have.” When my sister fills in the missing link, Mom spits her sip of wine back into her glass, and Dad’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. They both turn to Gran, who seems remarkably unconcerned by the way my life is being flushed down the toilet.

  “Avery, sweetheart, go get me another glass of water,” she says. Avery scoots away from the table and disappears into the kitchen.

  Under the table, I reach for Travis’s hand, latching on to him hard enough to turn my knuckles white.

  Mom sets down her wineglass. “Travis, it’s wonderful to see you again. You’re so … grown up. Mr. Thornton and I hardly recognized you.”

  Dad clears his throat. “I’m sure you’ll understand that tonight we’d like to spend time together as a family.”

  Travis squeezes my hand before pushing back from the table. “No problem. It’s nice to see you again.”

  Without asking to be excused, I follow Travis out of the room. “You’re still coming with me to the Nutcracker tomorrow, right?”

  He nods. “I wouldn’t miss it. Are you practicing your karate moves?” He motions a fast arm-chop.

  I force a smile, despite the pain that lodged in my chest when my parents appeared out of nowhere. “I thought you were working on our escape plan.”

  “Get ready to run. I’ll follow you.”

  For some reason, his silly jokes make me want to cry. “Maybe we can ride to the show together.”

  “And get lost on the way home,” he says in a low voice.

  I sigh. “Not believable enough.”

  “Then I’ll drive over a nail and pop a hole in my tire.”

  “Better,” I say, rising on my toes to kiss him goodnight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After Travis leaves, my entertainment options include primatology lessons or sleep. I choose an early bedtime.

  The warbling of our winter cardinals wakes me. Ken and Barbie, as named by Avery, poke their beaks into our backyard feeder before flying into the woods, their red feathers shooting between tall pines. For a few minutes, my parents’ return is forgotten. I roll out of bed, only to be reminded of my holiday nightmare when my mother’s film-star voice drifts up the stairs.

  “We’re thinking about taking Becca and Avery on location They’re old enough to travel now.”

  “You’d take them out of school?” Gran asks.

  “Why not? The experience will be educational.”

  “What’s the point of uprooting the girls if you and Richard are too busy to spend time with them? Becca won’t be happy about leaving school and her friends. She and Travis—”

  “Really, mother,” Mom cuts in. I can practically hear her eyes rolling. “How could you let Becca run around with him? The boy who rakes your leaves and cleans out the woodshed?”

  “Also the boy with a college scholarship who wants to be a doctor,” Gran says, drily. The coffee pot clicks and hisses as it percolates, filling the air with the warm scent of espresso.

  “Does Becca really like him?” Mom asks.

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “She’s matured, but still, we need to limit these types of distractions.”

  Gran barks out a laugh. “Sixteen-year-old girls can’t be distracted away from boys.”

  I scoot down the first three steps and flatten my back against the wall, listening for Mom’s reaction.

  “I’d prefer Becca to meet someone in a controlled, chaperoned environment.”

  “Do you think she’ll let you pre-select her boyfriends? Your daughter isn’t another one of your science experiments, Marlowe.”

  Silverware clinks and the faucet gurgles to life. Gran tends to wash dishes when she gets worked up about a particular topic.

  “She needs to learn restraint,” my mom insists, to the tune of smashing china. “Look, we all know that nothing good will come from this situation.”

  “I disagree. I think Travis is good for her.” Gran’s determined to go down on my sinking ship. “He’s always taken care of her in his own way. Watched over her, before she was even aware of his interest.”

  Mom’s cell phone rings and she takes an early call from one of her production managers left behind in some far-off time zone. But I’ve heard enough. I’m not leaving Gran and I’m sure Avery feels the same. And, Gran is absolutely right about Travis. He and I may not have talked much or spent a lot of time together, but Travis was always here. He knows me. He looks out for me. And he deserves my loyalty more than a mother who comes and goes in and out of my life to suit her own needs.

  ***

  Avery and I spend a dreary winter afternoon suffering through my parents’ raw footage, listening to Mom’s perfectly pitched voice describing the top species of endangered primates. The camera pans over acres of tropical green rainforests in Madagascar, the home to troops of freakish-looking aye-ayes and ring-tailed lemurs.

  When the film runs out, my mother switches on her laptop and scrolls through pictures of the five-star resort where she and my father stayed during filming. I peek at Avery and note her skeptical expression. Is she catching on to my parents’ hidden agenda?

  To avoid further monkey-related discussions, I devote an extra-long time to dressing for Avery’s show. Long for me, but not out of the realm of normalcy for a teenage girl, so no one questions my need to lock myself in the bathroom for two hours. After much outfit angst, I dress monochromatically in a black sweater dress with black leggings and high boots.

  When Travis arrives, I r
ush down the steps. Knowing he’s here loosens the knot of anxiety in my chest. Before stepping into the kitchen, I linger in the stairwell, covertly checking him out. He’s wearing dark gray pants and a white button-down dress shirt. With a black sports jacket hooked over his shoulder he looks like he popped out of a photo-shoot, although he would hate me for describing him that way. I float across the room, pushing up on my toes to kiss his cheek, feeling my heart skipping along in a faster rhythm.

  “Ooooh, let’s take the picture, Becca. You two look scrumptious.” Avery also appreciates the dressed-up Travis.

  “Oh, right, the picture.” Before I can elaborate for Travis’s benefit, my dad joins us.

  Pressing into the kitchen, he jerks open the door to Gran’s wine refrigerator and scans her collection. “Ah, a nice shiraz.” As Dad pours a glass, his eyes sweep over to me.

  Travis shoots me a questioning look.

  “I asked Avery to take a picture of us, if that’s okay,” I tell him, suddenly shy.

  Dad drains his wineglass in one huge gulp and whips out his phone. “Here, let me take it. Avery’s too short to hit the right angle.”

  I dart my pleading eyes to Avery, but she’s already backed away.

  I lean into Travis. “Okay, sure. Whenever you’re ready, Dad.”

  Travis slides his arm around my back, resting a hand on my hip. Dad whips his phone out of his pocket snaps away. “Looks great. Terrific.”

  I turn to Avery. “Do you want a ride? I can help with your costume.”

  Her brow creases. “Are you sure? The show doesn’t start until seven.”

  “I like to watch you warm-up.”

  She lights up, unveiling both of her dimples. “Okay. Sorry, Travis but you’re stuck with an extra hour of ballet.”

  “Anything for you, Avery,” Travis drawls, smiling at her. Anything to get away from my parents, he means.

  “Look for me on stage, Dad. In the first act, I’m on the far right.” Avery removes her plastic-wrapped costume from the coat closet.

  My father fires off a mock salute, trying to be funny.

  Avery laughs hysterically.

  I fight the urge to puke.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Oh no, I see someone, Becca.” Avery throws out her arm, blocking the entrance to the dressing room. We left Travis in the auditorium to hunt down seats. “Don’t look to the left.”

  “Is it the ex?” I whisper.

  “Yeah. Do you think she knows Travis is here?”

  “I hope not. After dealing with Mom and Dad all day, the last thing I need is more drama.” I kiss the top of Avery’s head and taste hair spray. “Break a leg.”

  Avery rolls her heavily made-up eyes. “How cliché.”

  Before the ex-spies my date, I scurry through a sea of ballerinas and down a short staircase, into the auditorium. The lemony scent of floor wax rises from the stage and follows me up the aisle. In the orchestra pit, woodwinds honk and violins tune. A crash of cymbals briefly overpowers the hum of voices. I maneuver around helicopter parents jostling for front row seats, thinking how Avery will be thrilled if our parents simply show up, even if they spend most of the night in the lobby, squawking into their cell phones.

  “Guess who I saw backstage?” My creaky seat whines when I plop next to Travis, sitting in the middle of a row in the back. The Harmony Center for Performing Arts is in dire need of an update.

  “Uh, I give up,” he says, not bothering to look up from his phone.

  I jab him in the shoulder. “Your ex is in the house.”

  “Did I miss a backstage brawl? Any injuries?” His eyes remain glued to the screen.

  “No, but thanks for your fake concern. I snuck out of the dressing room before she caught me.”

  “Good idea. You don’t want a black eye for the holidays.”

  I cover his phone with my hand. “You may think you’re downright hilarious, but if Chelsea sucker punches me, it’s totally your fault.” I look past him and guess who’s coming up the aisle. “Crap, here she comes.” Ducking my head, I crouch behind the seat in front of me.

  “Hey, Travis,” honks a nasally voice. Whoa. Chelsea must have really clogged sinuses. Future doctor Travis should recommend something.

  “Uh, hey, Chelsea.” Keeping his eyes fixed on my would-be attacker, Travis reaches over, grabs hold of my arm and yanks me up, back into my seat. My shoulder blade slams into the wooden frame, forcing the breath out of my lungs.

  “How’s college?” asks the ex, while I gasp for air.

  “It’s, you know, twenty-four hours a day of studying,” Travis says, downplaying, as usual. “How’d you do?”

  “Okay, I guess. I joined an integrated martial arts club and met some new friends.”

  A high-pitched whine escapes my lips. Travis squeezes my hand and I clamp my mouth shut.

  Chelsea sniffs. “So, I guess it’s true.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for her to claw me to pieces.

  “Uh, you lost me, there, Chels,” Travis says, after an awkward pause devoid of clawing.

  Her eyes flick to me. “About you and—”

  “Becca? Yeah. We’re together.”

  Chelsea’s hands move to her hips. Fearing she may high kick me with one of her pointy dress shoes, I shrink into Travis.

  “Have a nice holiday,” she finally says. “Maybe I’ll see you around town.” She pivots on her stiletto heels and clicks away, disappearing into a pack of girls huddled in the middle section of the auditorium. I press my forehead into Travis’s shoulder and exhale a giant puff of air.

  He shakes me off. “Relax. She isn’t going to attack you.”

  “Because she’s smart enough not to hurt me in front of you.” I shield my face with my arms. “I can feel the bad karma between us. And bad karma freaks me out.”

  Travis jostles me with his elbow. “I think you’re inventing your own bad karma. Chelsea and I are over. She’s just being friendly. If your ex was here, you’d go say hi to him.”

  “No, Travis. I wouldn’t.” Which is true. What’s the point, especially when you’re with someone new?

  “Whatever. It’s over now.” His knee begins to bounce. “I can’t believe you talked me into watching ballet. I must really like you.”

  I venture a glance around the auditorium, checking that the coast is clear. “I don’t think of this as real ballet. There’s always at least one girl tripping over her feet and taking a line of dancers down with her. Sometimes Avery blanks out on her steps and spins left instead of right. It’s highly entertaining, but you can spend the time messaging your friends. I promise not to tell.”

  Shaking his head, he pockets his phone. “I’m not wasting my night texting. In about three minutes, we’re hooking up.”

  “No, we’re definitely not doing that,” I inform him. “My parents have this knack for appearing out of thin air at the worst possible time. If I get caught, they’ll lock me in my room and feed the key to one of their chimp friends. And look, a photographer.” I point to a tall woman standing two rows in front of us, screwing a long lens onto her camera. “Do you want to be caught kissing me in the newspaper?”

  His eyes meet mine just as the overhead lights dial down a few thousand watts. In the semi-darkness, I glimpse the determined set of his jaw. He’s completely serious.

  I grip the armrest between us. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Travis arches an evil eyebrow. My heart stampedes in my chest. I cross and uncross my legs, unable to sit still as Tchaikovsky’s overture swells from the orchestra pit. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice my parents arriving with Gran and sliding into the last empty seats in the front half of the auditorium.

  The red curtains crank open and a single spotlight illuminates center stage. I lean forward to search for Avery, dressed as a young child in the opening scene. One drumroll later, Travis’s hand slides up my leg, over my knee.

  “Don’t,” I beg, biting my lip and swatting his hand away. He touches his
lips to my ear, and whispers something about how good I look tonight. Damn. When Travis decides to get chatty, he comes up with some terrific adjectives. I turn my face to his, ready to tell him to quit talking, but before the words make it out of my mouth, his lips capture mine. The music seems to speed up as the air between us turns downright steamy.

  “Inappropriate,” I hiss, but when he kisses me again I lean in. My seat creaks and I jump, breaking our connection. Travis smirks and I recognize the dare in his eyes. Now I’m curious to see how far he’ll take this. I’m relatively sure my sister isn’t looking for me. She’ll never know if I miss her first scene.

  We kiss again and this time I push my tongue in his mouth. Travis refuses to back down. I’ve never participated in a kissing battle before, but that’s how I would describe my current situation. Someone coughs behind us and Travis disengages, leaving my lips hovering in mid-air. He catches my look of astonishment before directing his attention to the stage.

  He throws his arm around my shoulders. “Which one is Avery?”

  Thanks to Travis, my brain is incapable of making a positive identification.

  I sink back in my creaky seat, refusing to talk until the lights snap on for intermission. Ten rows in front of me, my mother jumps to her feet and scans the auditorium.

  “There you are, Becca! Come sit with us!” She waves me over and smiles at Travis as we join them.

  With that, all the fun has been sucked out of my evening.

  Squeezed between Gran and Travis, I spend the second act inhaling whiffs of my grandmother’s rosy perfume, hoping it will dull my other, hormonally driven senses. My parents rubberneck around the theater, searching for long-lost hometown friends, checking their phones for messages, and conducting a whispered conversation about weather conditions in Costa Rica.

  At least they act the part of devoted parents when the curtain falls. Dad leads the audience in a standing ovation when the cast appears for bows. Avery smiles and waves from center stage, delighted.