We Might Be Able to Help Each Other
1467 Words
My next few days at Pewter aren’t any less weird than my first.
The volume of stares and whispers in my direction seem to have increased exponentially since the news spread about my chemistry incident with Dean. Dean himself stares at me just as much as he did the day before, with one, small difference: it’s less of a glare and more of a… well… stare.
Don’t ask me what that means; I don’t know. He just doesn’t look quite as pissed as he did the first day.
As Aidan predicted, Dean was switched out of my chemistry class. As the icing on the cake, Cooper replaced him.
“Hope you don’t mind,” Cooper said cheerfully when he took his seat next to me, much to the apparent dismay of the pretty girl who was his previous lab partner. “I promise not to spill toxic sludge onto your arms, if it helps.”
True to his word, he hasn’t spilled toxic sludge on my arms. In fact, it’s been a total pleasure being Cooper’s chemistry partner, carpooling with him to school, eating with him and his friends at lunch… the whole nine yards.
There’s only one thing bothering me at this point: Finn.
I haven’t talked to him since the morning of my first day of school.
It’s Friday—the day before the ridiculous party that the whole school is now talking about. I stare down at my phone, scrolling through the seventeen texts Finn has sent me since Monday. Already too cool to talk to your best friend? That was Tuesday—he was still joking at that point. Then, Wednesday: Just checking in. Everything okay out there? And then, yesterday: Come on, Quinn. At least tell me you’re alive.
“Earth to Quinn. You planning on getting your butt to chemistry anytime soon?”
I blink, looking up from my locker to realize the hallway has emptied out. I must have missed the bell for seventh period.
“Sorry,” I mutter to Julia, who’s looking at me like I’m the world’s biggest moron. “I just… need to make a quick phone call. Can you tell Mr. Dawson I’m having a feminine emergency?”
She laughs, nods easily, and continues on to class.
I heave a sigh, pulling out my phone and clicking on Finn’s contact. I slip into the nearest stairwell and lean against the wall.
He answers on the first ring. “Thank God. I was close to calling the cops.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. I know—I’m an asshole.”
“You’re okay, then?”
“I’m fine. It’s just… been a weird week.”
“A weird week?” I knew he’d be pissed, but he sounds furious. “Weird enough to excuse you not letting your best friend know you were alive?”
I want to yell at him—to tell him to go easy on me—to remind him that I’ve been going through a lot. But I can’t. His hostility is clearly coming from a place of love and concern; I should have responded to him sooner. “I’m sorry, Finn. Some of the stuff that’s been going on here… I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“What does that mean? What’s going on?”
“I…” I bite my lip. Even if I wanted to tell him the truth, where would I start? “I don’t know. Aidan’s… a little scary.”
“Scary?” he demands. Instantly, I know I chose the wrong word. “What the hell does that mean? Has he hurt you?”
“Of course not. Look—it’s impossible to explain at this point. It’s really just a feeling. Forget I said anything.”
Another pause. Then, “I’m coming up there.”
I snort. Pewter City, Florida is at least an eight hour drive from Blue Ridge, Georgia; Aidan put me on a plane to get me here. “No, you’re not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I am. I’ll leave as soon as school’s out. Tell your new dad to expect a guest this weekend.”
I groan. “Finn, you can’t just do that. I’d have to ask him, get permission—”
“If he says no, I’ll sleep in my car. I don’t want to hear another word, Quinn. I’m coming.”
And with that, he hangs up on me.
And you wonder why I didn’t tell you sooner, I think grumpily as I stare down at my phone, wondering what I’ve just done.
I heave another sigh, straightening and starting to head back toward the door I came through. But when I turn, I freeze.
There’s someone in the stairwell with me.
“Who’s there?” I shout, sprinting over to the railing and peering down over it.
“s**t,” mutters the figure below me. “Sorry.”
It’s him. It’s Dean f*****g Morgan.
I stare at him in disbelief. “You were… just… have you been there the whole time?”
He doesn’t look all that embarrassed. He doesn’t seem to have a particularly wide range of emotions—at least, not ones that he allows others much access to. He ascends the steps towards me and crosses his arms. “I think we should talk.”
My mind flashes to Aidan, who forbade me to talk to Dean, then instantly lets go of that concern. Aidan doesn’t own me. He can’t control who I happen to pass on the stairwell.
“Okay,” I tell Dean. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”
“Yes.”
Points for honesty, I have to grant him. But… “Why?”
“I didn’t realize,” he says slowly. “I assumed you wanted to come here—chose to come here. The last thing I expected you to say was that you’re… scared of him.”
I really wish he hadn’t heard that part. The rest might not have been so bad, but the part where I’m a weak, timid little girl?
“It’s none of your business,” I tell him shortly. “I don’t even know you.”
He holds my gaze. The deep, darkness of his eyes seems to go on forever—filled with secrets and mysteries I don’t understand. It’s… mesmerizing. “Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Push yourself in front of me like that. Try to save me from the… chemicals.” He glances down at my arm and cringes. “Hurt yourself, for me.”
I move my scarred arm behind my back, blushing. “I don’t know. It was just… instinct.”
He looks oddly fascinated by this—the same way he did when he left the lab. As if someone instinctively helping someone else is baffling to him. “How did you even know? That it would happen?”
I like this question even less than the first; I still have no idea how I knew. “Enough about that. What do you want? Why were you eavesdropping?”
He hesitates for a moment, then admits, “I… think we might be able to help each other.”
I find that very hard to believe. “Why should I want help from the unfriendliest guy in the school?”
“I’m sorry about that—how rude I’ve been. Like I said—I made some assumptions about you that were, apparently, incorrect.”
You know what they say about assuming things, I consider japing. But I’m in no mood for jokes. “Even if we could help each other, it’s not a good idea. If Aidan finds out we’re talking—”
His dark eyes flash with some mixture of fury and satisfaction. “I figured as much. He’s forbidden you to talk to me.”
“Yeah. So, if you don’t mind—”
“I know things about him. More than you could ever find online, or from any of the people you think are your new friends. Do you want to know them, or not?”
I hesitate. I don’t much like the thought of being played by Dean, but I certainly do want to know what the hell is up with Aidan, and I don’t think Cooper is the person to ask. He’s been somewhat open with me so far, but the guy is his father. “Yeah,” I finally admit. “But, again—”
“The stables at your estate,” he interrupts. “The stable hand is one of ours.”
“One of ours?” I repeat.
“I’ll explain tonight. Meet me there at midnight.”
- Writer
