Nowhere Girl (Foundlings Book 1) Page 16

  His smile pulled me from the shortening breaths within my lungs and I slowly followed Derek into class. Mrs. Calvin hadn’t even started. In fact, she hadn’t even arrived. It seemed everyone was tardy or absent lately. Nothing and nobody mattered to anyone except for me. My eyes wandered curiously, scanning the room to observe a few students weren’t in attendance, before my gaze turned toward Derek, who was watching me hesitantly.

  “What?”

  “You seem a little off. Are you okay?”

  Hoping it would be enough to satisfy Derek so I didn’t have to think of an excuse when all I wanted to do was scream at Jameson, I curtly nodded my reply. It was worth a shot. I at least had to pull one ounce of self-respect out of the bowels of my subconscious and let him know what an ass he was.

  Me: Haven’t heard from you. Hope you’re okay.

  Maybe he was in a ditch somewhere, maybe he was ignoring me, or maybe he was at the doctor. I wouldn’t find out because he clearly didn’t care enough to inform me. But who was I? I was just some girl he strung along, like all the rest of them.

  I was beginning to understand and appreciate Michelle’s resentment. I felt sad, betrayed, and incredibly lonely. The one person who knew me had stopped talking to me. I’m overreacting. He’s probably still sick.

  ***

  Derek picked me up on Saturday morning for our study session with Olivia. It was a change of plans. I had expected, and hoped to ride my bike or share a ride with Olivia. Jules was watering her lavender on the front porch when I stepped outside, lugging my French.

  “Him again,” she spoke with a giggle. “This one and that Burke boy. Sophia, Sophia.”

  “Would you stop that? You’re embarrassing the lavender. We’re meeting Olivia downtown so we can study for French. Be proud of that and quit being so nosy.”

  She kissed my cheeks before letting me exit the property, likely with reluctant silence.

  “Good morning.” Derek smiled as he climbed from his Jeep, leaning over the roof as I approached the passenger side. “Have what you need?”

  “I do. Let’s go. Good morning.” I buckled up, watching Jules’s curious expression as Derek pulled away from the curb.

  “I need to check my back bumper for holes.” Derek giggled. “Your aunt sure burned some when we left.”

  “I’m surprised she was even there to do so,” I muttered under my breath, pressing my head to the window as we drove.

  Our drive was silent. I didn’t know what to say to Derek. I didn’t want to make up small talk about school, Olivia, or French. I didn’t want to tell him what was really on my mind. When we pulled up to the curb outside of our favorite coffee shop, the gust of wind almost knocked me against his Jeep.

  “Whoa.” He smiled. “You all right there, Oregon?”

  “If this is what it’s like before a hurricane comes, the darn thing is surely going to take me with it.” I groaned, pathetically hoping that might happen. “Is it always like this?”

  “It might get worse. It might not. We just have to wait and see. In the meantime, French awaits, mademoiselle.”

  Derek chivalrously held the door open for me while I mounted the three steps and entered, catching Olivia sipping from an iced coffee in our window booth.

  “Hi!” She squealed as we nestled on each side of her, both pulling out our notebook and textbooks.

  “I ordered a vanilla latte for you, Sophia, and Derek, I didn’t remember what you like, so you need to order your own.” She grinned. “So, go on…go order.”

  Derek’s head shook while he laughed and stepped away from our booth, leaving his French splattered across the table.

  “Okay, Mopey.” Olivia took my wrist. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Lunch yesterday, your face today, your strangeness before Fitz interrupted us on Thursday. What’s going on? Is it your aunt? Is it Jameson?”

  All of the above? I didn’t know how to begin this girly conversation about whatever was happening with my feelings and Jameson, so…trusting Olivia, I rambled.

  “Well…I told you he came over. We talked, a lot, and he was gone before I woke up.”

  “Jesus, that’s so romantic. Owen would never do that.”

  “Well, I’m sure Owen would actually talk to you after that.” I blushed, hiding my face behind the latte she ordered for me, “So…French?”

  “He…wait…he isn’t talking to you?”

  My heart was burning, comprehending the reality of Olivia’s question. No—Jameson wasn’t talking to me. I left out the details of how I had texted him again last night, hoping to check on him and maybe bribe him to come get some ice cream. Nothing.

  Derek returned to the table, carrying a cup of plain coffee and a chocolate muffin. Olivia squeezed my hand, glancing at me with her expression of concern before the subject changed completely to French. However, my mind was far from the language of love and entirely on the emptiness and embarrassment I felt knowing Jameson was somewhere out there, pretending I didn’t exist.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  JAMESON

  I had tossed thirty shells back into the Gulf, cursing Thomas and Elizabeth with each throw, before I returned home. Home.

  I noticed Thomas’s figure standing at the edge of our sandy yard, staring out at the water. His shirt was undone at the top, his tie loosened around his neck, and his hands were pressed into the pockets of his suit pants. Normally, I might have asked if he was okay because he never appeared so disheveled, but quite frankly I couldn’t have cared less anymore.

  “The storm will be here any day,” he mumbled as I approached, avoiding my eyes entirely.

  “Then what the hell are you still doing here?”

  “Jameson,” his voice rung with exasperation. “Come have a drink with me.”

  “I’m underage. You follow the rules. Remember?”

  “I heard a case today,” he continued speaking while I sat in a patio chair several feet away from him, pretending not to listen. “The state is fighting for a little girl. Her guardians were involved in a meth lab. The whole house exploded. She was watching a Disney movie. The one with the dancing monkey.”

  “The Jungle Book. And he was an orangutan.”

  “Very well.” Thomas’s throat cleared as he continued. “She was eight or nine years old and in the living room upstairs while they cooked a batch in the basement. Anyway, the house blows up and, by the grace of God, those inbred imbeciles survived.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Thomas sighed as his hands crossed over his lap. “She’s on life support. Her own legal guardians didn’t protect her.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  My heart split, sympathizing with this little girl—the fear, confusion, and hurt. This was Thomas’s twisted way of trying to control me. He knew discussing this little girl would bait me. He was playing on my own guilt, my own conscience, and my own story.

  “Jameson.” He sat against the end of my lawn chair, placing a tanned hand on my crossed ankles. “We can protect you. We can help you protect what Samantha would have wanted protected. You.”

  “That’s low, Thomas,” I snarled at him, bolting from the chair. “You disgust me.”

  I felt the soft vibration of my cell phone in my pocket and fought the temptation to reach for it.

  “Thomas! Honey,” Elizabeth called from just inside the house, causing Thomas to slowly lift from my chair and walk toward her shrill squeal.

  “Thomas? Oh, there you are. Jameson, I didn’t know you were back already,” she stepped onto the patio, her sunglasses wiggling down her nose.

  “I can’t go,” I growled, looking away from them, hoping if I stared at the Gulf long enough it would eventually consume me.

  “Sweetheart, the men are here to shutter the windows. They won’t start without talking to you.” Her arms snaked around Thomas’s right arm, clinging to him like a leech.

&
nbsp; Wow. I was quickly becoming dark and cynical.

  “Jameson.” Thomas repeated my name as though it were a command with which I would eagerly respond.

  My head rolled to the other side, in his direction, but my expression was empty. Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squinting tightly while he spoke to me.

  “I’ve had enough of your damn pity party. Cut the crap and get in the house. I’m not losing you to a hurricane.”

  He stormed off, followed by Elizabeth, leaving me to enjoy the last of the relatively peaceful quiet before the storm. My phone vibrated once more, so I looked. Regretfully. Three missed messages from Soph.

  My grasp began hardening around my phone, almost willing the power inside to crumble the device. I was furious, entirely aware of what I was doing to her. Aware of what I was doing to her heart; her sweet, honest, open heart. I scrolled through her messages, scolding myself for my pathetic reply while she was in class yesterday. I had to hold my stomach, pushing the boiling vomit back from my chest as I thought of how cruel I was forced to be by cutting her off.

  Soph: I missed you at school again today.

  Soph: I just wanted to check if you’re feeling better.

  Soph: Do you feel like ice cream?

  I had to force myself not to throw my phone into the water. I hated this. I despised it. There were no words for the grief, the aching in my heart. I was betraying her. I had been ordered to break the trust she gave me, and all so Thomas and Elizabeth could follow the rules.

  Two days ago, I had taken Soph to my cove. I kissed her. I held her hand. I shared with her more of me than anyone beyond Thomas and Elizabeth. I forced her to include me into her bubble and now I was popping it because it was the right thing to do. Why couldn’t I just explain it to her? I could trust her—I know I could. Soph was different than anyone else. Why couldn’t I just tell her? Maybe I needed to take Thomas’s offer for a drink.

  ***

  “Tropical Storm Lucy is likely to become a hurricane as we expect a category two storm to produce winds of up to one hundred and ten miles per hour.”

  “Turn that off,” Elizabeth sighed as she walked by my room, “We know it’s coming. No need to get anxious.”

  I was packing my overnight bag, quickly trying to get out of their house and off to my doctor. I wanted to spend as little time with Thomas and Elizabeth as possible or I might lose what was left of my mind.

  “When you come back,” she continued, stepping into my doorway as I clicked off the television, “I’d love if we could spend some time together. No Thomas. Just you and I.”

  “Like a proper mother and son?” I scoffed, zipping my duffel bag before throwing it over my shoulder. I saw the hurt in her eyes. What was I doing? I am not this person.

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” I replied to the tear wiggling from her eye. “This isn’t me. It’s just…this isn’t fair. It isn’t right.”

  “If someone told me to stop my feelings for Thomas, I would kill them. Surely. But if it was the only thing I could do to protect him, to keep him safe…I’d do it before I was even asked. It’s the only way, Jameson.”

  “You’re wrong,” I argued to deaf ears.

  Elizabeth shrugged in defeat; she knew this conversation would never go her way. I hoped.

  I don’t know how I made it to Dr. Edwards. My mind was a blur, a furious flashing spasm of emotions that numbed my eyes the entire ride to his office. I sat on the sofa in his space, staring at the window behind him, while he tediously waited before breaking the silence.

  “You know, between you and I,” he cracked, “I don’t entirely agree with Thomas and Elizabeth.”

  “What?” My brain finally deceived me and I looked up at him, wondering if it was only a phantom sound. A small smile spread on his lips, probably because he was happy I could still talk.

  “I don’t entirely agree with them,” he repeated, “And their decision…Their demand of you.”

  “Oh.”

  “So tell me what you’re thinking about.”

  “You know.”

  “Ah.” A slight chuckle escaped as he opened his laptop. “Sophia.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  SOPHIA

  I had rolled myself into a cocoon deep inside the blankets on my bed, with no intention to move. My eyes barely opened in response to the light spreading its taunting fingers in through my window.

  I hadn’t slept. My eyes were obsessively glued to the screen of my phone, hopelessly waiting for a message that never came. Pathetic. While I remained buried in my covers, I kept telling myself there were only three days left. I had to get through three days, and Michelle’s stupid party, and I could pretend the last month of school never happened. I could forget Jameson. Ha. I knew that wouldn’t happen, but I could at least not get my hopes up at the expectation of seeing him every day when he, like his messages, wouldn’t show.

  I glowered at the window, cursing the sun. I really hated that thing. My bones longed for the mild, damp air of Oregon that was coated in a secure cloud of gray. The air would envelop me, spreading its comforting arms around my body. I could never go back, though. I had to get that through my system. Oregon was gone and soon Florida would be too. Thank god.

  I would miss Jules, even Simon, but I wanted to find a hole in a wall someplace where nobody knew who I was and the only secrets I kept were how much I paid for things I bought on clearance.

  Under other circumstances, Florida would be fine. I loved coming here as a kid to visit Jules and play on the beach, but the Florida I knew now was an involuntary escape and I resented it.

  “Ma chère,” Jules sung from the hall as she tapped on my door. “Darling. Sophia?”

  “Mmph,” I groaned, muffled by the suffocating covers.

  The door opened with a soft sound of Jules quietly tapping across my floor to the window. Thankfully, her narrow wrists flicked my curtains closed before she sat next to me on my bed. I hoped she couldn’t smell Jameson’s cologne from three days ago. I should wash these sheets.

  “I understand that you’re probably overwhelmed with exams next week and thinking about the change to come, and that’s why I have not tried to pry you from this bed all weekend.” She smiled at me while she gently pulled the blanket from my face.

  She had no idea. I wasn’t stressed about my exams. I was sure I would do well. After all, I had no life. I was overwhelmed about the fact I spent the last month being tossed around by Jameson, everything he did this week alone, and now I was a pathetic lovesick girl.

  “Yeah,” I lied.

  “I’d really like you to come over to Simon’s for dinner this evening. He is inviting some of the friends you met at his Memorial Day party. I think your friend Olivia will be there as well.”

  “She didn’t mention it yesterday.”

  “Well, that’s Simon. He waited until this morning to finalize his plans. Listen, darling, we’re going shopping. Just you and Auntie Julesie.”

  “No thanks."

  “Honey, ma chère, my darling…” Jules combed through my long hair, sending waves of euphoria along my scalp in her own manipulative way. “Let’s spend some time together, go to supper this evening, and then I won’t bother you for the rest of the week.”

  “You never bother me, Jules,” I sighed. “You’re never here to bother me.”

  She squeezed my knees and smiled. It was a maternal smile, one that expressed her unspoken understanding of me all the while telling me she wasn’t about to change the amount of time she spent at Simon’s instead of with her grieving niece.

  ***

  I reluctantly stepped out of Jules’s car, cringing while the sun burned my fragile skin. I hate the sun. I missed Oregon dearly. I craved the rain, finding myself dangerously hopeful for the tropical storm threatening my new home. It meant rain. I loved rain.

  “Daydreaming already?” Jules interrupted me, linking her arm with mine. “Must be those young boys always doting on yo
u.”

  I laughed. It was more of a scoff. It couldn’t be helped. I looked up at the violently swaying palm trees while we walked into the department store, headed directly for the women’s clothing section. Not juniors. Women’s.

  “Jules,” I mumbled, “Is it really going to be a hurricane?”

  “Probably.” She sorted through racks mindlessly, practically ignoring my question until she stumbled upon a short pastel blue dress and held it against my frame. “But the warning system gives us enough time to leave if it is threatening. You’re probably frightened about it, aren’t you, darling? How selfish of me not to prepare you for it.”

  “I’m used to the rain,” I reminded her.

  She sighed, pursing her lips while she returned the dress to its rack and forced me to model three more dresses while slipping my head through the hangers. I silently followed her, glancing out at the windows while the rain began to fall. It was a peaceful drizzle, reminding me of home.

  “That’ll do, won’t it, Sophia? Hello…ma chère, are you in there?”

  Jules’s fingers snapped in front of my face, startling me from the rain-induced hypnosis. I nodded at whatever she was asking of me. I would have done just about anything to leave that department store.

  ***

  Simon was mixing lime and raspberry margaritas by hand in his kitchen when I padded into the space.

  “You look beautiful, ma chère, just like your mother.” Jules spun me around, adjusting the straps and hem of the white eyelet sundress. My mom.

  “You do,” Simon replied, feverishly squeezing every last drop of juice from his pile of limes. “I’ll make one for you without the tequila.”

  I’d never had tequila, but I had sort of thought I would need some after this dinner. Simon handed me the child-friendly lime margarita and continued to press. I sipped the sour and sweet concoction, stepping toward the patio door that led out toward the beach.