Spark by Brigid Kemmerer
“Damn it.” Gabriel scowled. “I can’t believe Nick told you.”
“He didn’t. I’ve been waiting to see if you’d tell me yourself.”
Like that would ever happen. “Chris, then?”
Michael shook his head. “Your teacher called.”
“She what?”
“I don’t know why you guys are so surprised when the school calls me.”
Gabriel couldn’t believe this. “God, I hate her.”
Michael fell silent again, but this time it was weighted, like he wanted to say something. Gabriel wasn’t about to give him an excuse to lecture, so he kept his mouth shut and stared out the window.
“I used to hate it,” Michael finally said. “Your teachers would call me all the time. Especially in middle school. I mean, these were people who’d taught me, and four years later, they’re calling to ask me to control my little brothers. Every frigging day, another hassle. A fight. A missed assignment. Come in and sign this form, come down and fill out this paperwork. It used to make me nuts.”
Boo-hoo. Gabriel didn’t look away from the window.
He wondered if Michael was looking for an apology. He wasn’t getting one.
“By the time you and Nick hit freshman year, I thought it would settle down. But then I had middle school teachers and high school teachers calling me. I remember that October, I was trying to figure out how the hell to file a tax return for the business, and Vickers called me up to tell me Nick had gotten in a fight in the locker room.”
Vickers was the guidance counselor. Gabriel remembered that day, one of the few days Nick had actually been involved in a fight, when he wasn’t just taking the fall for Gabriel.
It wasn’t really a fight at all. Seth and Tyler had cornered Nick after gym class. They’d beaten the crap out of him.
Gabriel had switched places with Nick the next day. Seth and Tyler backed off after that.
He’d had no idea Vickers ever called the house.
“I hated that stupid cow when I went to school there,” Michael said. “I used to think she was useless. So when she called up to whine about Nick, I went off on her. Told her I was sick of her and every other teacher always getting on my case, setting me up to fail. I completely lost it. I’m surprised she didn’t hang up on me.”
Michael hit the turn signal for Compass Pointe. “When I finally shut up, she said something I’ll never forget. She said, ‘We’re not setting you up to fail. We’re calling because we want to help you succeed.’”
Gabriel stared at him for a long moment, waiting, hoping there was more. But his brother didn’t say anything else.
Gabriel rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. “That is the dumbest story I’ve ever heard.”
“All I’m saying is, I don’t think your teacher is trying to hassle you.”
“Yes. She is.” But Gabriel kept thinking of Nick’s comments about graduation.
He kept thinking about Layne’s expression when she’d figured out he was cheating.
It made him want to shrink down in the seat.
Michael glanced over. “At least you’re doing something about it.”
“Whatever.”
Michael sighed. “Which house?”
Gabriel pointed. Layne’s house was immaculate in the sunshine, all white pillars and stone facing that reminded Gabriel of her comment about a serial killer living there. Perfect landscaping, too, though he’d bet Michael had already spotted twenty areas where the workers had cut corners and used crap plants.
Gabriel was unbuckling his seat belt and trying to figure how to spin the transportation issue, when Layne came flying out the front door.
Jeans. Forest-green turtleneck. Braid. Glasses. After the getup she’d been wearing last night, it reminded him of those superhero cartoons he’d watched when he was a little kid. The ones where only a few select people got to know what hid behind the meek-mannered exterior.
How had he never realized how hot she was?
She hesitated halfway to the truck, noticing that he wasn’t alone. Gabriel slid out of the cab.
“Sorry,” he called. “I don’t have the car, so my brother had to drive.” He came around the front of the truck to meet her.
She cast a glance at Michael, looking flighty. “There’s a problem.”
“Is your dad still home?” Gabriel glanced at the front door, ready for her father to burst out with a shotgun.
“No . . . but Simon is.” She hesitated. “Our mom never showed up.”
The more he heard about her mother, the more Gabriel wanted to find the woman and shake some sense into her.
“He can’t stay home alone,” Layne rushed on. “I’d say you could come in, but if my dad came home early—”
“Statutory rape. I remember.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Yeah.”
God, this figured. Nick taking the car was probably an omen.
Unless . . . could this be an elaborate way for her to back out? Maybe she’d had second thoughts when he’d pulled up the driveway. Maybe she didn’t want anything to do with him after all.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I get it.”
“No! I’m not . . .” Layne licked her lips. “I’m not backing out. I’m wondering . . .”
Some hair was coming loose from her braid, and if Michael wasn’t sitting right there, Gabriel would have tucked it back into place.
No, he’d be pulling the elastic free, unwinding the plaits . . .
Focus. “Wondering what?”
She took a deep breath. “Would it be okay if Simon came with us?”
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 sudd
“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?
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.