Spark

CHAPTER 27

Layne sat at the kitchen table and watched Gabriel glare at his trig textbook. He had a fresh piece of notebook paper in front of him, a sharpened pencil clenched between his fingers.

A murderous expression on his face.

“Come on,” she said. “You can’t hate math that much.”

“Trust me. I can.” He glanced up. “You hungry? Want something to drink?”

“I want you to quit stalling.”

“I am not—”

“Oh.” She raised an eyebrow. “Does it usually take twenty minutes to hook up your PlayStation, or was that just for Simon’s benefit?”

His voice dropped. “I was hoping Michael would leave.”

His brother? Layne remembered Gabriel mentioning that they fought, but Michael had been perfectly nice to her. He’d barely said a word during the drive over here, and then left them in the kitchen with the excuse that he had work to catch up on.

“He said he had to run to Home Depot,” said Gabriel. “But he’s probably sticking around to make sure I don’t con you into going upstairs.”

The words almost made her breath catch. Thank god he couldn’t feel her heart rate stutter. “No chance.” She tapped the book with her pencil. “I’m here to help you work.”

“Hmm.” He leaned in and pushed a strand of hair off her face. “Is that a challenge?”

Now she couldn’t breathe at all.

She hadn’t bothered to look at the Internet last night. This morning, either. Kara hadn’t called, and she couldn’t bear to check her e-mail. She had no idea whether Taylor had ever followed through on her threat to put everything online, but if she had, what could Layne do about it?

Nothing.

And it was so much nicer to think about the moments with Gabriel, after the party. She’d turned his words over in her head all night. Not just the kind ones, when they’d been sitting by the water. The harsh ones, the really honest ones, when they’d sat on the tailgate of his car.

What do you think, that I’m some kind of thug player who’ll screw anything in a skirt?

“You’re blushing.” His breath was against her neck, his lips whispering into her skin.

“You’re still stalling. We need to—”

She gasped. His teeth grazed her jaw, the sensitive area below her ear. His hands found her waist, shifting her toward him. Everything suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.

“See?” he murmured. “Who needs math?”

That woke her up. She used her pencil to rap him on the forehead. “You do.”

He sighed disgustedly and drew back.

Then he went right back to glaring at his blank paper.

“It’s only ten questions,” she said, still feeling a bit breathless. “We’ll just work through these, and then . . .” She let the words trail off, but that open ending was just way too . . . open. “Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded. But he didn’t write anything down.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t help you if you won’t even—”

“Jesus.” His eyes flared with anger. “I know.”

Layne almost flinched—then reminded herself that his anger had nothing to do with her. “Truth,” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”

His expression was locked down, and she had a strong feeling he wasn’t going to answer. Every time he did this, it made her feel vulnerable. More so now that her secrets were all out on the table—and his weren’t.

“I need to pass.” His voice was low, rough.

“You will,” she said. “You’ll pass the test, get back on the team—”

“I don’t give a crap about the team.” He hesitated. “I mean, I do, but . . .”

She waited.

He kept his eyes on the book. “Nick told me last night that he wants to go to college. If I can’t pass math, I can’t even graduate from high school.”

She studied him. “Do you want to go to college with your brother?”

“No—yes—I don’t—” His pencil snapped. “Goddamn it.” He dropped the pieces in the spine of the book.

Again, Layne waited.

Gabriel looked up, meeting her eyes. “I never even thought about college. The only reason I bother getting halfway decent grades is so I can play sports. I mean, I just figured we’d keep helping Mike with the business.”

“What do you want to do?”

He snorted. “I doubt there’s money for Nick to go to college, so for me to go with him . . . I mean, he’ll probably get scholarships, but—”

“No. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” He was looking back at the math book again. “I never really thought I had a choice.”

Layne bit at her lip. She didn’t know the twins’ relationship well enough to judge them, and talking to Gabriel always felt like walking a tightrope. “Obviously Nick thinks he has one.”

That brought his eyes back up to hers. “He deserves a choice.”

“Why, because he’s a good student?”

Gabriel scowled. “He’s good, period.”

It made her think of her mother, volunteering for every charity under the sun—as long as she got to plan a party for it. Most people probably thought she was good, too, despite the fact that Layne’s father had worked himself to the bone to afford the lifestyle her mother demanded.

And then she’d left, like it wasn’t good enough.

No, because Layne and Simon weren’t good enough.

There were different levels of good, Layne thought. Had to be.

She tapped the math book with her pencil. “You deserve a choice, too.”

Gabriel took a deep breath and blew it out. He picked up the broken half of his pencil, the one with a writing end. “Can I choose to not do this?”

She wanted to hit him on the forehead again. “Don’t be such a baby. I can’t believe you’ll kick the crap out of Ryan Stacey but you’re afraid of a few equations.”

His eyes flicked up at her. “That’s because I don’t care what Ryan Stacey thinks of me.”

Oh. Her breath caught again. She tried to stop her heart from thundering in her chest and shoved the book toward him. “Maybe your brother should help you. You can’t sweet-talk him.”

Layne helped Gabriel struggle through the second problem of the assignment.

And he was definitely struggling.

The first question had taken thirty minutes to work through. He was missing fundamentals they’d covered in Algebra I. It was like trying to teach abstract equations to someone who’d never learned basic multiplication. And as he got more frustrated, he started transposing numbers. It reminded her of that day she’d fixed his test, when half the solutions were written backward. Or that day at the blackboard, when he’d copied someone’s equation—but he’d copied it incorrectly. She had to keep reminding him to slow down.

That night she’d driven him home, she’d made a comment about special classes, and he’d brushed her off. But now she was starting to wonder if he genuinely had a learning disability.

Not like she’d say that out loud. Yet.

The second problem took only twenty-five minutes. Progress.

By the end of two hours, he’d worked through eight problems. He wrote the number 9 on his paper just as a peal of thunder rolled overhead. Layne reached out and closed the textbook.

He looked up. “We’re not done.”

“I should check on Simon.” She stretched her shoulders. “And you should quit while you’re ahead. Do the other two tomorrow.” They hadn’t heard a sound from the living room the entire time they’d been in here. Not like Simon was a noisy kid, but she was surprised he hadn’t come looking for a soda. A snack. A bathroom, for goodness’ sake.

But when they looked in the living room, the PlayStation was turned off, the television silent and dark. She turned around, but the powder room door was wide open, the lights off.

No one was in the front yard, either, when they leaned out the front door. Overcast sky, prestorm humidity thick in the air. But no Simon.

Then a repetitive smacking echoed from the driveway. Followed by a long pause.

Gabriel smiled. “Come on.”

Simon was tossing a basketball at the hoop over the garage. To her utter surprise, Gabriel’s older brother was playing with him.

Michael caught the ball Simon passed to him, then pointed at her and Gabriel. “Math done?” he asked.

“Mostly,” said Gabriel. He gave Simon a grin. “You’ve been practicing.”

Simon’s hair was a little damp, but he grinned in return—the first smile Layne had seen on his face all day. He nodded.

“Coach still won’t let you play?” said Gabriel.

The grin vanished. Simon shook his head.

Gabriel nodded at the basket. “Keep playing like that, and he’ll be an idiot not to.”

The smile was back. Simon held out a fist. Gabriel hit it.

“Thanks for playing with Simon,” she said to Michael, signing as she spoke, out of habit. “I’m sorry if you were trying to get work done.”

“Nah.” He didn’t quite smile, but his expression was easy. Amiable. Again, it made her wonder about Gabriel’s fights with him. He’d been nice enough to drive her over. And then play basketball with her deaf brother. Kara had an older sister in college who’d barely give Kara the time of day, much less Layne.

Honestly, after the way her mother practically ignored them, it was nice to see a family member act like family.

It was funny—all along she’d thought Gabriel was the jock thug, when all he’d ever done was protect her and Simon. And then a charmer like Ryan Stacey turned out to be as bad as Taylor and Heather.

It made her wonder what else she was missing about the people around her. Whether their motives were truly hidden, or whether she just chose not to see.

“What time did you say you needed to be home?” Michael asked her.

She shrugged and glanced away. “I told my dad we’d be back by six.”

A complete lie, of course. She hadn’t mentioned a word of this to her father. But Michael had caught her off guard when she’d first climbed into his truck, asking if it was okay with her parents. She hadn’t expected him to do more than give her a passing glance and roll his eyes about playing chauffer.

Really, considering the guys Kara’s older sister hung out with, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find Michael passing her a joint and asking if she felt like making brownies.

Thunder rolled through the sky again, sounding like a warning. Layne tapped Simon’s arm and signed as she spoke. “We should probably go.”

No, he signed back, scowling. I never get to play.

She sighed and looked meaningfully at the sky before signing and saying, “It’s going to storm.”

“Nah,” said Gabriel. He looked up at the sky as well. “The lightning is a ways off.”

Simon smacked her in the arm, harder than was necessary. See?

Layne wanted to snap at him, to make him fall in line—like that ever worked. But she kept remembering the way he’d slammed the door to his room after their mother hadn’t shown up.

And the smile on his face when she’d found him playing basketball.

She sighed and sat on the concrete against the garage. “Fifteen minutes.”

But Gabriel held out a hand. “No way. We play, you play.”

She blushed. “I’m not really athletic—”

He snorted. “Come on.”

Then he had her hand, and then she was playing basketball.

Playing might have been a little strong. The boys were patient, letting her take time to make a basket. When they had the ball, it was a free-for-all of shoving and good-natured ribbing. But the best part was when she had to shoot, and Gabriel’s arms came around her, his voice gentle in her ear. “Like this . . .”

She was having so much fun that she didn’t realize their fifteen minutes had passed, didn’t even register the crunch of tires on pavement until Michael said to Gabriel, “Expecting more company?”

Layne glanced at the driveway. A black BMW was rolling up the hill.

She actually felt the blood drain from her face.

For a split second, she hoped Gabriel was expecting more company. Even a girl. Even Taylor Morrissey herself. Because right this instant, Layne would rather face anyone than the one person she knew drove a black BMW.

Her father.

Her palms went slick on the basketball. She didn’t even remember catching it.

Simon was there beside her, his breathing as shallow as hers.

“What am I missing?” said Michael.

Layne had to clear her throat to find her voice. “It’s my dad.” God, how had he known where they were? She shook herself and looked at her watch.

Still early! How . . . what . . .

“Layne!” Her father was already out of the vehicle, standing there in the driveway, the door standing open. His tone could slice through steel. “Both of you. Get in the car. Right now.”

Her backpack was still in the kitchen, but she didn’t dare say she had to go inside to get it. “Dad.” Her voice broke, and she tried again. “Dad, we were just playing—”

“Trust me. I know exactly what’s getting played here.” Layne had never seen him look so livid.

Yes she had—the night her mom left.

It hurt to breathe. Her voice wouldn’t rise above a whisper. “Dad—”

“Leave her alone,” said Gabriel, right at her shoulder. His voice was even. Steady. “We were just playing ball.”

Simon signed the same thing, his gestures full of fury. We were just playing ball. You were working.

Her father looked like he was forcing himself to stay behind the car door. He gestured, his words punctuated by fury. “Get. In. The. Car.”

Layne swallowed. “Okay.”

“Hey.” Gabriel caught her wrist, his eyes still fixed on her father, his voice still unrelenting. “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Gabriel,” said Michael.

“Nothing wrong?” Her father did close the door now, stepping across the pavement. Layne had to fight to keep from backing up. “I believe we might have a different perspective of right and wrong. For instance, driving a fifteen-year-old girl across town without her parents’ permission. To say nothing of her fourteen-year-old brother.”

“Yeah?” said Gabriel, stepping forward, almost putting her behind him. Thunder cracked in the sky again, closer. “What’s so right about being—”

“Gabriel.” Michael had his brother’s arm now, and it must have been a death grip. White showed across his knuckles.

But Michael’s eyes were on her father, his tone composed. “I drove. They were just getting together for schoolwork.” He paused, and Layne thought for a moment that he was going to sell her out, to say that he’d specifically asked whether she had permission and she’d lied. “Gabriel and Layne studied in the kitchen; we played ball. I’ve been here the whole time.”

If anything, her father’s eyes turned darker. “Forgive me if I don’t find that too reassuring.”

Lightning streaked through the sky behind the houses across the street. Thunder cracked. A drop of water struck her cheek.

She could hear Gabriel’s breathing beside her, tight and furious.

Please, she prayed, remembering their exchange in her foyer. Don’t make this worse.

“Dad,” she choked. “It was fine.”

“Layne, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not going to worry about you and Simon running around with some worthless teenager who’s a phone call away from juvenile detention—”

“Hey.” Michael took a step forward, almost toe-to-toe with her father. “He’s not worthless, and you’re out of line.”

“I’m out of line? Maybe you should think about your position before you get in my face, kid.”

“I’m not a kid. And you don’t know anything about my position. ”

“Please,” said Layne. “Just . . . it’s my fault. We’ll get in the car.”

But her father would never back down from anyone, and he was barely paying attention to her anymore. “Oh, you don’t think I had time to look you up? All I needed was a neighbor to tell me about the strange vehicle in the driveway. She wondered why my kids were getting in a landscaping truck.”

Layne flinched. Her father said landscaping truck as if she and Simon had been found scrounging in Dumpsters. Another drop of rain hit her cheek. Her forearm. “Dad—stop it.”

“Clearly they survived the experience,” said Michael. “Funny how you were so concerned, but you had time to look me up.”

“You know,” said her father, his tone softening, gaining the weight of threat, “everything about you is a matter of public record. I saw the court records, the way you run the risk of being denied custody every spring. I saw the financial condition of your little company.” He paused, the way he did before delivering a final blow to a jury. She’d seen him rehearse one too many times—and the pause was effective because he meant every word that came after it. “You don’t want to mess with me, kid. I can mess with you much more effectively.”

Thunder cracked, just overhead. Lightning struck a tree beside the driveway with a sound like a gunshot. Layne gave a little shriek. Branches and sparks rained down, just behind her father’s car. Some landed on the trunk.

Then real rain took over, stopping any fire before it could start. Layne shivered.

Michael shoved Gabriel back against the garage. “Are you crazy? Go in the house.”

Gabriel surged forward, but his brother pushed him back, holding him there with one hand as he turned to face her father. Layne could see the muscle twitch in Michael’s jaw, the hard set of his shoulders. Now she saw it, the way he probably got into it with Gabriel. She held her breath, wondering if he’d throw a punch at her father. And how her father would react.

Considering how her dad was acting, she almost wished Michael would.

But Michael took a ragged breath and seemed to shore up all that anger. “I’m sorry for any misunderstanding. Maybe you should leave before the storm gets too bad.”

Gabriel jerked himself out of his brother’s grip, shoving damp hair out of his eyes. He looked like he might go after her father, but Michael gave him another shove toward the front door. “Go inside. Go.”

Gabriel took a few steps down the walkway, but stopped there, his hands in fists.

Layne was ready to get dragged to the car, but her father was still staring down Michael, ignoring the rain. She grabbed his arm. “Dad, come on.” Her voice was breaking, and she didn’t care. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t move. “Get in the car, Layne.”

She didn’t think that was a very good idea.

Thunder cracked again, and she flinched. But lightning flashed harmlessly behind the trees.

Simon stepped forward and shoved her father with his shoulder, stomping to the BMW. At the door, he turned and gave her father a gesture that didn’t need any translation. Then he slid into the backseat and slammed the door.

Layne swallowed. But at least her father’s focus was thrown. Michael was already herding Gabriel toward the front door, and she turned on her heel and headed for the car herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting next to her father for the drive home, so she slid in beside Simon.

She didn’t have the courage to slam the door herself.

A lecture had to be forthcoming, but when her father got in the car, he didn’t say anything. Just switched on XM Radio, the classical station.

He only listened to classical when he was furious.

“Dad,” she whispered, “I’m really—”

“Not now, Layne.”

His voice was a smack across the face, disappointment and disgust and fury all contained in three words. She fell back against the seat.

But Simon tapped her leg. His eyes were red, some combination of fear and anger. With rain on his cheeks, he looked like he was simultaneously ready to cry and put his fist through the car window.

It’s okay, she signed. I’ll tell him it was my fault.

Simon brushed her hands aside, his way of telling her to shut up.

Then he glanced at the front seat of the car, the way her father’s hands were practically molding the steering wheel into a new shape.

Simon looked back at her. I hate him.

Layne remembered her thoughts from the kitchen, when she’d wondered about what she always saw and what was really there.

After hearing her father denigrate Gabriel and his brother, it made her want to realign everything she knew about her father.

And about herself, too.