The Girl of Sand & Fog Page 23

  He brushes the hair back from my face. “We’ll figure something out. Another week without seeing you. Nope, not doing it.”

  My eyes widen. “Ask Grandpa Jack if you can stay. He’d probably love it. You can surf with him.”

  He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I already did. About an hour into the reception. The answer was hell no.”

  * * *

  An hour later, we slip quietly back into the tent. My face falls. Mom and Alan are gone. I missed it.

  For some reason my glowing mood deserts me.

  “Do you want to stay at the party?” Bobby asks. “It doesn’t look like it’s winding down anytime soon.”

  I shake my head. “No, can we go walk on the beach for a while before you have to leave?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.” He smiles. “And I’m not leaving until Jack throws me out.”

  I make a small laugh and he drapes his arm around my shoulders. We turn and head for the steps built into the cliffs.

  Bobby pauses at the top, staring down at the beach. “I think this is a bust, Kaley. I’m pretty sure that’s security at the bottom blocking access to shoreline.”

  “Yep, put them there myself, just to keep you two out of trouble,” teases a voice from behind me.

  I whirl to see Grandpa Jack sitting on a chaise.

  I roll my eyes. “Very funny, Poppy.”

  He grins. “I’m getting old. I need help. Something tells me I’m definitely going to have to be on my game this week.”

  I flush, but Bobby laughs.

  Jack’s magnificent eyes gleam. He points at the lounger next to him. “Come sit with your grandfather and talk for a while. I didn’t get two moments alone with you in there, Kaley.”

  I stop Bobby with a hand on his arm. “Whatever you do, don’t go for a walk alone with him,” I whisper fiercely into his ear.

  Bobby frowns, amused. “Why? I like Jack.”

  “Don’t do it.” I give him a wide-eyed, intense stare before we step back from the cliffs.

  We settle on the vacant chair beside Jack, me in the V of Bobby’s legs, leaning back into his chest with his arms around me.

  “It was pretty cool that you were able to become a licensed justice of the peace so you could marry them,” Bobby says.

  Jack smiles. “You kids aren’t the only ones who know how to make the most of the Internet.” And then his gaze shifts to me. “You can find just about anything online these days.”

  My body covers in prickles.

  Oh crap, why does it feels like Jack knows about my blog, my websites and my Kaley’s World videos? Even Bobby doesn’t know about Kaley’s World and I fully intend to keep it that way.

  “You doing OK, baby girl?”

  “Sure, Poppy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Jack shakes his head in that I’m not buying it way he has.

  “Your mom marrying again. Not exactly a small life change for you. It would be understandable if you weren’t doing completely well with this.”

  He says it so quietly that I almost miss it and then it shoots through my body at once, what he’s saying beyond the words, and how he’s trying to be there for me without betraying my mother.

  “You forget, I’ve lived with Alan before. This change is a repeat.”

  Jack’s blue eyes meet mine directly. “Nothing in life is a repeat. Not this moment. Not the next. You don’t have to pretend it’s nothing to you if it is.”

  “I’m not pretending anything,” I exclaim, irritation slipping into my voice.

  Jack nods, his lips scrunched up together, his chin moving out just a touch in that way he sometimes has with me that I know means he wants to say more and won’t.

  Jack stares at the ocean. “Even with the best map, Kaley, you’ll still find unexpected roads. I have. Your mom has. Alan has, and you and Bobby won’t be any different. The trick is to travel the ones you should and avoid the ones that will hurt you. But sometimes you can’t tell the difference, you go too far down a road, and end up lost and not knowing how to turn around. No matter how hard we all try to pick the right road, we all at times go the wrong way.”

  I study him trying to figure out where he’s going with this and why now.

  “Are you saying that’s what my mother did?” I ask. “Picked a wrong road and doesn’t know how to turn around? It looks to me like she just did a giant U-turn today.”

  Jack lapses into silence. My body grows tauter and tauter as I wait to see if he’ll stop with the euphemisms, acknowledge outright what I just asked, and talk to me straight.

  His blue eyes meet mine directly. “I’m saying that for the most part your life has been a pretty nice road. A few bumps here and there, but always surrounded by people who love you. Neil loved you and was a good father. Jesse loved you and was a fantastic stepfather. And Alan has loved you every minute of your life. Isn’t that the most important thing? Looks to me like you’ve been a pretty lucky girl.”

  “Have I?”

  Jack smiles. “Without a doubt. It doesn’t matter if your life isn’t exactly how you think it should be or even hoped it would be. If it’s good, it’s good. And I’ll take that over everything else, baby girl, any day of the week.”

  I stare down at my clasped hands, frantically sorting through everything he’s trying to tell me without saying it, and trying to escape the unwanted pricks of hurt.

  Bobby’s hands move soothingly up and down my arms. “I think we’ll go back to the party, Jack.”

  Jack’s eyes shift to Bobby. “I’ve always liked you. You’re a nice, kid. Respectful. But the pool house is closed until further notice. Remember, son, you can either be a man or a fuck-up, and no one can make you a fuck-up unless you’re willing.”

  A tense quiet surrounds us.

  I stare, stunned.

  Oh God, did Grandpa Jack really just slip in the don’t be a fuck-up speech on top of everything else that went down out here?

  “I’ll remember that, sir,” Bobby says as he stands.

  Jack nods. “Good. And maybe you can come back during the week and we can do some surfing. Pool house is closed, but you are welcome here always, Bobby, so long as we understand each other.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Two months later

  The audio-visual lab door opens and Bobby crosses the room and settles on the edge of the desk beside me.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asks.

  I continue to edit my video and don’t look up. “I can’t. I’ve got to finish cutting this short and get it turned in today or I get a zero on my midterm grade and then I have to be at OCD in half an hour.”

  He fixes me in a disbelieving stare. “OCD? You got dentation the last day of school before spring break?”

  “Uh-huh. And my free bonus gift is I think Mr. Jamison e-mailed Chrissie because she texted me like right after and I have to go straight home after detention so we’re not going to have any time together before you take off to Palm Springs with the guys this weekend. Groovy, huh?”

  He lets out a slow breath. “What’d you do this time?”

  For some reason I’m a little irritated with that. I make a face at him. “I didn’t do anything. Natasha and her posse strike again. Filled my locker with a wonderful collection of scintillating tabloid tidbits about my family and when I opened the door they all fell to the floor. And of course they were all watching and whooped it up over the whole thing. And I’m the one who got written up for bullying for giving them the finger while I was on the floor cleaning up their mess.”

  He gives me a sympathetic grimace, his head tilting to one side just enough to making him look really adorable and totally forgiven for the earlier flash of criticism. “You’ve got to be kidding. They wrote you up for bullying for giving Natasha Blackburn the finger?”

  “Yep. Mr. Jamison was in the hallway, saw the entire thing, but the second I gave those girls the finger it was ‘Miss Stanton, principal’s office.’”

  He shakes his head. �
��Unbelievable. It’s just not right. Did you try to explain that you weren’t the instigator?”

  I click save on the edited film and slouch back in my chair. “Nope. It wouldn’t have mattered and it doesn’t matter how many freaking pink slips I get. I got my acceptance e-mail to USC today during fifth period, we’re out of here next month, and I’m never looking back, Bobby.”

  “You got into film school? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  He takes my hands, guides me onto my feet, and eases me between the V of his legs. “That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you, Kaley.”

  “So you see I don’t really give a fuck what any of them do to me anymore. I’ve got my guy. I’ve got my film program and I’m out of here next month forever.”

  He doesn’t laugh. He frowns instead. “If that’s how you feel, how come you’re in OCD again? Why not just let Natasha’s bullshit roll off your back? I know all the ink about your family sucks for you but it’s all bullshit so why can’t you ignore it?”

  “I know that the shit in the tabloids about Mom and Alan is just that. Shit. Nothing new, Bobby. I’ve been reading crud about Alan, crud about Mom, crud about my family in print as long as I can remember. I’m surprised there isn’t an article in the rag sheets claiming Chrissie had sex with a Martian and all five of us kids are green aliens. So stupid, I’ve lived this movie before and it’s no big deal. That part of it I do ignore.”

  He studies my face. “OK, then how come you keep ending up in OCD? This is your ninth time in April alone.”

  “If I had known Natasha could be such a malicious bitch I would have never called her a ‘twat’ the first month of school. She’s positively relentless like those monsters that die in horror films but keep on coming back. I don’t care what she does to me, she knows it, so now she’s bullying Zoe and no way am I backing down with that crap going on.”

  His jaw drops. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

  I stare up at him. “Nope. And don’t tell Jake. Zoe doesn’t want anyone to know. She’s so embarrassed. They stuff Zoe’s locker with little notes about Jake and photoshopped pictures of her that are just awful. I know it was them. They’ve been posting some really cruel things on their pages. Harassing her in group texts. They are all-out cyberbullying her just because she’s my friend. Zoe pretends it doesn’t bother her, but she’s a mess over this. They’re hideous girls. Somehow they never get into trouble for any of it. How do you ignore girls like that? I can’t. Zoe’s my best friend.”

  “Do you want me to stay at OCD with you?”

  I brighten. “You’d really do that?”

  “Yep. I’d do anything for you.” He brushes aside my hair and starts kissing me on the neck. “It’s going to be awful not seeing you until Tuesday. Why don’t you come to Palm Springs with everyone, Kaley?”

  I groan as his kisses move to my ear. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be right, Bobby, because everyone isn’t going. Zoe can’t and she’s really down, really depressed that Jake is going without her. I don’t want to ditch her. It wouldn’t be a nice thing to do.”

  His mouth moves to my lips, teasing me slowly, and then eases back. “Fine. But I’m not going to have fun without you.”

  I make a pout. “Yes, you are. Just don’t have too much fun. Instead, think of how much fun you’re going to have when you get back Tuesday.”

  He grins. “Oh yeah. Definitely want to think about that.”

  Laughing, I go back to the desk and quickly attach the video project to an e-mail and send it off to my visual arts teacher. “There. Done. If I can I’ll stop by your house before you leave.”

  He loops his arm around my shoulders and walks me down to the detention room. He reaches for the knob and pulls me in for a fast, heated kiss before he opens the door.

  “Try not to get into any more trouble for one hour,” he teases. “If you rack up a pink slip while serving time for a pink slip I’m pretty sure that’s not going to go well for you and I don’t want you grounded so we can’t take off for Santa Cruz next week.”

  I make a silly face. “I’ll be a perfect angel.” I can feel my eyes grow sparkly. “I’d hate to ruin Santa Cruz for us.”

  Bobby breathes out in a slow, luscious way. “I’ve been looking forward to a repeat of Thanksgiving for weeks.”

  I flush. “Me, too.”

  He pulls back the door wide. “In, Miss Stanton. The sooner you get in there, the sooner you get home.”

  I enter the room. Empty—no surprise, since I’m pretty sure I’m the only one with a lame enough life to get detention the last day before a two-week break—and then I turn back to Bobby. “I’ll text you when I get home and let you know if I can go to your house before you leave.”

  When the door closes behind me, I reach into my pocket for the pink slip and stop in front of the desk where my advocacy teacher is sitting.

  I hold out the paper to her. “Sorry, Mrs. Trent.”

  She looks up from her laptop and points at the chair. “Sit, Miss Stanton.” She leans back, staring at me above the rims of her half-glasses. She frowns. “Are you doing OK, dear?”

  I tense.

  That question I wasn’t expected.

  I nod. “I’m great.”

  Her crinkled brows lower. “I know you kids don’t think so, but you can talk to me about anything. Not just about your future academic plans. Talking to someone might work better than how you are dealing with your circumstance at present.”

  Hmm—well, this is random. Where is she going with this?

  She slaps shut the laptop, grabs a pen, and signs my pink slip. “Get out of here, Kaley. You don’t need detention for giving Natasha the bird. We’re done for today.”

  I stare at her, stunned.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Trent. You can be really cool sometimes.”

  Her brows shoot up. “No, I’m not being cool. I want you to remember what I said. Talk to me. There are other ways to deal with your issues than how you are managing them.”

  A burn crowds my cheeks, but I nod and hurry out of the room before she can say anything else or change her mind.

  When I get to the parking lot, Bobby has already cut out. I debate whether I should go to his house and pretend I was at OCD or go home like Chrissie ordered me to.

  I climb into my car and pull from my spot. At the exit, I look left toward Bobby’s and right toward my house. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel and I slowly exhale.

  Go home, Kaley. Home. You just caught a break. Don’t fuck it up now.

  Groaning, I turn right and head for home. When I enter the house it’s quiet—a good sign that I did the right thing not going to Bobby’s first—and I cross to the kitchen and dump my stuff on the center island.

  Jeez, it doesn’t even sound like anyone is home.

  I quickly start checking rooms.

  Family room empty.

  I open the French doors, step out onto the patio, and hear a raspy, accented voice. Oh crud. Alan is sitting at a table looking hyperindustrious—weird, totally weird—laptop open, definitely not happy, and his expression stiff like he’s in some sort of intense phone conversation.

  Slowly, I step back and turn, trying to get into the house before he sees me.

  “Kaley, please sit. I’ll be done with this in a second. I’d like to talk to you,” Alan announces, abrupt, and I turn to find him staring at me, cellphone away from his ear.

  Fuck, are the planets out of whack or something?

  Why does everyone want to talk to me today?

  I close the sliding door and drop down onto a chair across the table from Alan. My leg starts to jiggle as I listen to him continue to jabber into the phone.

  Waiting, Alan, waiting. So rude. Fuck. I’m going to miss Bobby if this keeps up.

  “I’m sorry that took so long,” Alan says and I look up to see the cell sitting on the table. “I’m leaving for New York later tonight and there’s a lot going on right now.” />
  OK, status report done—as if I give a shit.

  I smile. “It’s OK.”

  His eyes lock on the computer and he starts clicking. “Come sit over here, Kaley. I want to show you something.”

  I move to his side of the table and sit in the chair beside him. He moves the laptop in front of me.

  “Your photographs are lovely. Your mom thinks so and so do I, but we would prefer if you stopped posting them online.”

  For a second my heart stills until the screen comes into focus for my eyes. Then I frown. This is what all the fuss is about? It’s a picture of Mom and Alan with the boys. It’s a sweet picture. Our weird family normal.

  I study it, feeling my emotion kick up. It’s undeniable. Definitely unexpected. Alan is a surprisingly good parental figure, and as involved a stepfather for my brothers and sisters as Jesse was for me. Nope, I didn’t expect that. It hasn’t been totally awful this repeat of living with Alan. Krystal and the twins seem happier.

  So what’s wrong with this picture?

  Maybe he thinks it ruins his image.

  Stupid, Alan.

  It makes you likeable.

  Maybe that’s what’s bugging him.

  I look at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’ve done to piss you guys off, but it’s really none of your business what I post on my social media pages. I can’t believe you spied on me.”

  Alan’s black eyes sharpen. “It’s our business because what you post affects all of us. You’ve got the house in that photograph, sweetheart. The street number. I would prefer you didn’t do that until I can convince your mother to live somewhere less accessible. My security sent it to me when it popped online.”

  My face colors.

  His security spies on me?

  Un-fucking-believable.

  “It doesn’t matter what I post,” I counter hotly. “Anyone who wants to can already find out where we live and that’s Mom’s fault and not mine or didn’t your nifty security team discover that one yet? She filled out my school packet at the beginning of the year and checked the box to make it public on our loop. It’s been up since August.”

  “Oh fu—” He stops himself quickly, then rakes a hand through his hair. He makes a charming, slightly inane, apologetic expression. “Sorry, I shouldn’t swear around you kids.”