Sins & Needles(14)

“Have fun,” he said without turning his head.

I missed the days when I could kiss my uncle on his cheek and make him smile. But it seemed like the days of smiling had long since passed.

I snatched up my purse and shrugged a worn leather jacket over my shoulders as I made my way out the door and down the driveway. Camden was waiting in a dark, doorless Jeep, its exhaust rising high in the rapidly cooling air. Crickets chirped and I smiled into the headlights as I made my way around the front of the vehicle.

“Nice ride,” I told him and eased myself up onto the passenger seat.

“Nice date,” he answered back smoothly, looking me up and down with a broad grin. I was glad it was dark outside and he couldn’t see the flush on my cheeks. Not only at the word “date” which I had been so certain it wasn’t, but the petty fact that he liked how I looked. I was pretty much wearing the same thing as earlier, the same thing I always wore—boots and jeans—but had a flirty white top that showed off a small slice of cleavage. Okay so maybe I dolled myself up more than I should have for a so-called friend. Damn my uncle for being right.

Naturally, Camden didn’t look too shabby himself. He was wearing black pants that were flatteringly tight in the crotch area, bad-ass boots, and a Battlestar Gallactica tee that would have looked geeky on anyone else but only made his wide chest and thick biceps more noticeable. Most surprising of all were the glasses he was wearing. It was the only thing that reminded me of the Camden I used to know, even though the glasses now were black rimmed in that hipsterish way.

“Glasses?” I asked. “Looks good.”

He grinned and gunned the jeep in the dark. We roared out of the cul-de-sac, the smell of fresh night air and sagebrush filling my nose.

“I only wear these for shows,” he admitted in a conspiratorial voice that made me lean in close to him. “A little thing I discovered as I got older, turns out women love men in glasses. Sure would have come in handy in high school.”

I smiled as diplomatically as possible. “Well, girls are pretty stupid when you’re in high school. They wouldn’t know a good man if they saw one.”

If I hadn’t been staring at him so intently as we drove under the garish streetlights, I wouldn’t have caught the rather malevolent look that clouded his brow like a heavy storm cloud. And like so many of his moods, it passed in an instant, leaving only a pained tightening of the lips behind.

He reached forward and flipped on the radio, blasting us both into silence.





CHAPTER FOUR





Then





The girl and the boy lay beside each other on his trampoline, staring up at the night sky that looked like a sheet of ink with tiny jewels affixed to it. The trampoline wasn’t good for jumping anymore thanks to the hole in the corner that had gone unpatched since Camden broke it years ago, but it was the perfect spot for them to spend the warm summer evenings.

There was one thing that happened that night that made it different from all the other nights they spent on it. That night, Camden had reached for the girl’s hand and the girl had let him hold it. That night, in the sweet June air, the girl fell victim to her hormones. She fell to the hopes that maybe she could love this strange beast, even though she was more of a monster than he was. She believed that maybe the affection of the weirdest boy in school—her friend—was better than no affection at all.

But nothing more than hand-holding had happened yet between them. They just lay side by side, staring up at the stars and listening to Soundgarden’s “The Day I Tried to Live” on his portable speakers, watching for satellites and enjoying that feeling that they, in their fourteen-year-old tragedies, were the center of the universe. His hand gripped hers and despite how sweaty her palms felt, she didn’t take it away.

She was about to remark, perhaps because it was true or perhaps because his hand was making her nervous, that Chris Cornell sang an awful lot about the sun when they heard the sound of the backdoor being flung open. They both tensed up, their hands jerking back to themselves on some untested reflex.

“Camden!” his father bellowed from the door. They sat up, ramrod straight, and twisted around to face the house. His large, formidable silhouette was in the doorway. In that blackness, the girl couldn’t see eyes to judge her, or features to fear. But she knew that Camden feared him and that was enough for her.

“What are you doing out there?” he continued to yell.

“We’re just laying here,” Camden answered anxiously.

“Are you with that Watt kid again? The girl?”

The girl and Camden exchanged a quick look. She’d been over to Camden’s house a few times but they usually hid in his room where they could talk, listen to music, and be themselves. His younger half-sisters loved annoying him and his step-mother was so drugged up on medications that she couldn’t control them.