Idle Page 6

  He stared at me, his eyes searching my face. He was wondering if he’d rambled too far, I could tell. You could also tell he was a little embarrassed, but I liked what he’d said. His words broke open a tiny piece of a cold, hard sky for me.

  “And are you a good one?” I prodded.

  “I am,” he declared, his cheeks tinged pink. He unfolded his arms and leaned over the board, searching the pieces there.

  “You seem confident in that.”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “How do you know?” I asked him. “How do you know this isn’t just a romantic ideology you adhere to by mouth but the minute something distracts you, you’ll run to that instead?”

  His stare met mine, serious and cutting. “I know, Lily Hahn, because I have gosh damn integrity.”

  Adrenaline shot through my body at his candor. “I think I believe you,” I told him.

  “You don’t have to choose to believe it. You’re going to see it for yourself.”

  My stomach dropped to my feet. Without another word on it, he bent back to the game and my stomach settled down.

  I wanted to know him, wanted to know if he was going to be good on his word. I’d never really seen integrity before, and I wanted to know what it looked like.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE NEXT DAY, the Friday before the tournament, Salinger had to work a double because they were behind or something at the store. We’d planned on meeting to practice but that wasn’t possible, so he texted me throughout the entire day instead.

  I’d refused to go home with him. I needed to time to think. He respected that but begged me to lock myself in my bedroom and text my address if it looked like Sterling was going to snap. I promised, but it wasn’t necessary. Sterling never came home that night. I’d blissfully lived without him anywhere near me. It was heaven.

  I spent most of the day practicing chess at the library on the computers there.

  The director’s name is Ron, fyi, Salinger texted.

  I took a deep breath, growing more and more nervous as the hours passed.

  He’s cool? I texted back.

  Yeah, cool A few seconds passed. Cool but kind of a ball buster too

  Great, I thought, before starting my hundredth game that afternoon. I need to stop. I’m making this harder than it has to be.

  I’m done practicing. Feel like if I keep going, I’ll just psych myself out, I texted back.

  I totally get that lol Plus, this is just a fun tournament anyway. No pressure, Lily, seriously.

  That helped me.

  I stood up, stretching my body out, and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

  “Hey, beautiful, what are you doing here?” someone asked beside me.

  I turned to find Trace.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I asked, trying my hardest to smile. “I’m just playing a little chess online.”

  Trace snorted and I rolled my eyes.

  “You still mad about the other night?” I asked him.

  “Nah, you know me,” he said.

  I did know him. He probably didn’t even know what I was talking about.

  “Better question. What are you doing here?”

  He laughed. “Freaking probation officer says I have to fax in some paperwork from my last court appearance. This is the only place I know that still has a fax machine.”

  Classy. “Ah, yeah, I get it.”

  “Yeah, it’s dumb. Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

  Freaking out and hoping I don’t let down Salinger. “Nothing much.”

  “Really? If you’re up to it, you should head over to my house. I got a couple people coming over. It’s gonna be a good time.”

  Yeah, right. “Sounds good. Since it’s close, I might stop by.”

  “Good,” he said, walking backward toward the door. “Hope to see you there.” He winked.

  I went home around four that afternoon and Sterling still wasn’t home. I almost shouted I was so happy. If I’m lucky, he’ll be gone the whole night long and I’ll get to go to this tournament thing with a clear mind.

  I trudged up the run-down steps to find the house still empty. I went to my room and cranked up the small hand radio I’d had since I was little, dancing around my house a little, feeling better about myself than I had in a really long time. It’d been over twenty-four hours since I’d smoked weed, and I didn’t even miss it. I just felt good, lighter somehow.

  I stared at the hand radio. It was my dad’s. He left when I was a baby. I didn’t remember him at all, and Mom could barely speak of him. Only the occasional “your dad was into Aerosmith” if one of their songs came on the car stereo or “your dad was allergic to kiwi” or something equally innocuous. The only other thing I knew about him was he was not from Bottle County, so no one in town knew much about him. I would beg Mom, especially when I was really little, for something, any kind of information about him, but every time I did, I could tell her heart would shatter in a million pieces and she didn’t know how to hide the expression of pain on her face. I learned to keep my mouth shut.

  It was obvious she’d loved him, and I wanted so badly to know what had happened, why we were alone.

  We’d had a small, comfortable life, albeit short lived, before Sterling came barreling through.

  I heard keys jingle in the lock of the front door and stopped short. They were heavier than my mom’s keys. I’d learned to differentiate. I yanked my window up and slid through, closing it, then sank into the side of the house. I heard heavy boots land in my room. I laid flat against the rotted siding.

  “I know you’re here! Your car’s still out front!” Sterling yelled. I tried to sink as deep into the siding as possible and held my breath. The music from my radio went silent. “Wasting batteries, that little bitch,” I heard him grumble under his breath.

  He stomped near the window and I nearly ran but stayed where I was. I didn’t want to run unless I knew for sure he had seen me. I knew it would mean a worse beating if I did, so it was a last resort. “One day,” I heard him promise himself under his breath. “One day I’m going to get her. Tempting little bitch drives me crazy.”

  I heard him stomp out of my room and slam my door. I started breathing normally again and fell to the ground. I waited for the adrenalin to taper off, rounded the side of the house, and inspected the back door and deck. When I felt it was clear, I hauled ass to the fence that separated our yard from Trace’s and hopped over.

  I held against the wood there, checking for Sterling once more before running through Trace’s yard, through his gate, and to the front of his house. For a split second I thought about calling Salinger but thought better of it. Tomorrow was the tournament and he was already working a double. The last thing I wanted to do was give him more anxiety than he probably already had.

  Instead, I climbed Trace’s front porch steps and landed on his doormat, knocking on his door. The door blew wide. Trace looked pissed until he saw my face and his expression softened to something I didn’t want to interpret.

  “Well, well, well, looky what we have here,” he said out loud like a dork.

  A bunch of boys I went to high school with came into view. “Well, if it isn’t little miss Lily,” Kevin King sang.

  “Lily’s here!” someone yelled out, though I couldn’t see them.

  Trace kicked open his totally pointless screen door with the torn screen and I walked inside.

  “I knew you’d come,” Trace remarked. “Me and the boys were just playing a few games. Want to join us?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said, following him into his living room. It had a window that faced my house. I walked over to it and tried to see if I could get a glimpse of Sterling. I didn’t see anything and my heart began to settle.

  Seven boys sat strewn about on sofas and chairs and the floor, so I chose a corner on the floor facing the television.

  “Why’d you come over so early?” Trace asked as everyone watched him and Kevin play some war game.

&
nbsp; “Just trying to get away from Sterling,” I told him.

  Everyone nodded. They nodded. Like they knew. Like they understood. It put a sour flavor in my mouth. Is this really my reality? I asked myself.

  Something happened on the screen and all the boys yelled then laughed, startling me. I stared down at my phone.

  “Fuck you, Kevin!” Trace yelled loudly then laughed.

  I looked at them. All of them. Two of them had bottles of liquor in their hands already. Most of them were high. Cigarette smoke filled the room. I couldn’t breathe. Not from the smoke, no. I was choking on our situations. I was suffocating on our status. We were none of us going to do anything. We were none of us going to be anything.

  I started laughing to myself. The boys looked confused, but I didn’t care. I was wasting my time on the chess thing. Life was one big colossal joke.

  “Want a hit?” Trace asked, passing a blunt my way.

  He watched me in a strange way. I could only interpret it as excitement?

  “Sure,” I said, taking it.

  He leaned closer, watching me intently. “Careful, mama, it’s strong as hell,” he said, his eyes narrowed at me.

  “Beautiful,” I whispered, taking it down to almost nothing. Trace smiled at me the way I’d imagined a snake would.

  “Oh shit,” I heard deep and muffled before passing out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Salinger

  I WAS WIPED. Sixteen hours straight at the market and I couldn’t wait to get some sleep. I hopped in my Jeep but before I started her up, I checked my phone to see if Lily had written. She hadn’t. I ignored how empty that made my stomach feel.

  You all right? I texted her.

  When I got back home, I threw my keys on my table and fell on my sofa, waiting on a response, but my body betrayed me and I fell asleep watching some rerun on television.

  I woke up around three in the morning, a little dazed, but remembered I hadn’t heard from Lily yet so I checked my phone. No response.

  I wished I knew Ansen’s or even Katie’s number so I could have found out if she was with one of them. I fell back to sleep looking forward to seeing her at the tournament later.

  My alarm went off around eight a.m. so I hopped in the shower and got ready. My nerves were a little on edge, but I didn’t care. I was more excited about seeing Lily than competing. I’d texted her the address to the tournament the afternoon before and didn’t really have any reason to contact her yet, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Can’t wait to see you there. You’re going to kill it, I wrote her.

  I got in my car and started making my way. Pure adrenaline coursed through my veins.

  Lily was amazing. She had her issues, for sure, but she was freaking talented and so freaking pretty. The boys in her town were dumb as hell. They literally couldn’t see what was right in front of them.

  The tournament was held at the recreation center next to the park we had practiced in and the parking lot was full. I searched the rows of cars, though, and couldn’t find her. Must be running behind, I thought. I got out and practically sprinted for the front doors. Inside there were people milling about, so I pushed through and found the registration table.

  “Hey, Mickey,” I greeted. “Working the table today?”

  “Yeah, you in?”

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  He rummaged through a binder, found my name, highlighted it, then handed over a lanyard with my name on it. He also gave me a piece of paper with my first tournament time.

  He was ready to turn to the next person when I caught his attention.

  “Think you could look up another player for me? Tell me if they’re here yet?”

  I wanted to ask just in case I missed her car.

  “Sure, what’s the name?”

  “Lily Hahn.”

  He searched the binder then looked up. “Not yet,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Thanks,” I said, waving at him as I turned toward a trophy case on the opposite wall.

  I leaned against it and scrolled through my phone, landing on Lily’s name, and pressed her number. It rang at least ten times before going to voicemail, so I tried again but got the same result. My stomach flipped. I scrolled through again and rang Noah this time.

  “Hello,” he answered, his voice rough from sleep.

  “Noah, it’s Salinger. Do you know where Lily is?”

  “Lily?” he asked. I could hear him sitting up. “Uh, yeah, someone told me they saw her last night at Trace’s.”

  “Trace?” I asked. “Is she okay?”

  “Think so.”

  “Okay,” I answered. My heart plummeted to my feet. “Thanks.”

  “No prob. Hey, don’t you have that tournament today?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I told him as they opened the doors to one of the rooms and called for my rating level. “Listen, I’ve gotta jet. They just called me.”

  “Oh, okay, good luck.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I hung up, put my phone on vibrate, and entered the room.

  “Hey, Salinger!” Ron called out to me. “You ready?” he asked, offering his hand.

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking it.

  “Looking to see this girl you wouldn’t shut up about. See if she’s as good as you claim,” he teased.

  I felt my face flame. “Yeah, about that,” I began, placing a hand on the back of my neck, the other in my front pocket. “It doesn’t look like she’s coming.”

  Ron laughed then realized I was serious. “Wait, what? What the hell, Salinger? I pulled some freaking strings for you. Seriously. You vouched for her.”

  I shook my head and could only shrug my shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” was all I could offer in explanation. “I made a mistake.”

  “Damn,” he said, starting to walk away, “I’ve got to do some rearranging now.”

  “So sorry, Ron!” I called out.

  “It’s okay!” he lied. “Good luck in there!” he said, pointing behind me.

  I nodded and turned.

  I won the whole damn tournament, pocketing $2,500.

  But what the hell. The tournament wasn’t about me. It wasn’t official, and I didn’t even care to compete. It was about Lily, and she kind of screwed me over.

  Whatever.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lily

  I WAS AWAKE but my stomach roiled. I kept my eyes shut and breathed deeply. The sun poured through the window and bathed my skin, making me feel hot. I wish we had an air conditioner, I thought. I cracked one eye open and stared at the ceiling, not recognizing it. What in the world?

  “Oh shit!” I yelled, shooting up.

  “Shut up!” someone complained.

  Vomit threatened to make an appearance, but I took a deep breath through my nose. I reached for my phone in my back pocket and brought it toward my face. It was three o’clock in the afternoon.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered. “Oh my God. Salinger.”

  I climbed over random people and made my way toward Trace’s front door, practically falling outside, and landed on the front porch. I blinked to clear my vision and rang him up.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” I whispered.

  His voicemail picked up. “Salinger here. Leave a message.”

  “Salinger,” I begged, “I am so sorry. Oh my God, I am so sorry. I—” I began but felt overwhelming shame since I had no good excuse. “I am so sorry. I know you, uh,” I took a deep breath, “really put yourself out there for me. I’m so sorry. I’m just,” I exhaled, “so sorry.”

  I hung up the phone and toppled onto the top step of the porch. “I can’t believe this,” I complained to no one.

  Ansen drove up at that moment with Katie in the passenger’s seat.

  “Idiot!” Ansen called out.

  “Noah called us,” Katie explained. “Salinger was looking for you. You missed the tournament.”

  Tears came flowing down my face. “I know,” I quieted.

&
nbsp; I stood up and met them at their car. When I got in the backseat, I handed my phone to Katie. “It’s on its last leg,” I explained.

  She plugged it in and turned toward me. “Call him,” she encouraged softly.

  “I did,” I told her and shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve screwed this up before it even started, Katie.”

  “You don’t know that,” she tried to appease.

  I leaned back into my seat. “I like him so much. Why did I do this?”

  Ansen looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Why did you do this?” he asked.

  “I sabotaged myself? I don’t know.” I shook my aching head. “I’ve never handled a simple joint this badly before. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

  Katie took a deep breath. “Okay, well, now we do damage control. You’ll come to my house, shower, borrow some of my clothes or whatever. We’ll go to the market tonight and see if he’s working.”

  “I don’t know if I can face him,” I admitted.

  “Grow some balls, Hahn,” Ansen encouraged. “Swallow your pride.”

  I took a deep, shaky breath and nodded.

  I showered at Katie’s and she washed some of my things while I was in there. I had a splitting headache and my stomach was so unsettled. I think he laced that blunt, I thought.

  “We have to quit smoking,” I told her.

  She nodded. “I know, babe.”

  “Do you mean that?” I asked her, my hand resting on her forearm.

  “Yes,” she told me. “I just don’t know how.”

  “Neither do I,” I told her.

  “We’ll figure it out,” she said, setting me down in a chair while my underwear and bra and clothes were in the dryer.

  She dried my hair and curled it for me, which relaxed me.

  “Thank you,” I told her. “You’re a good friend.”