The homesteaders, p.2
Forever Perfect (Perfect series Book 4), page 2
He tapped the bill of my baseball cap. “Love you.”
“Love you, too. Thanks for the ride,” I said getting out of the car.
As Ryan and I walked toward the field, I stopped dead in my tracks, causing him to do the same. I needed to set him straight on something.
“Stop messing with Halle.”
“What?’
I took a step closer, not getting in his face, but close enough to make my point. “You heard me. Quit teasing her.”
“What’s it to you?” He turned and stepped away.
Grabbing his arm, I spun him in my direction. “I mean it, Ryan. If I catch you doing it again, I’ll…”
His shoulders stiffened as he stared at me. “You’ll what?”
Heat crawled up my neck. I couldn’t figure out if it was from anger, fear, or embarrassment. I really hadn’t thought this through. I didn’t think he’d question me.
“I’ll beat the shit out of you,” I said in a firm voice, making sure my words didn’t shake.
I’d never beaten the shit out of anyone. I hadn’t even been in a real fight. Sure, Paige and I had gotten into a few wrestling matches over the years. One time she kicked me in the nuts, causing me to double over and almost black out from the pain. But she was a girl. A hit from another dude would more than likely hurt twice as bad.
“She’s just a stupid girl, Brando.”
“She’s not stupid. And stop calling me Brando.”
Ryan nodded as a slimy smirk crawled across his face. “Ah, I get it. You lo-o-ove her.”
“I mean it, Ryan, knock it off.”
My muscles tensed, the heat from my neck growing and spreading all over. This time there was no doubt it was anger.
“I’m right! You’ve got a thing for big-eyed Hootie Halle. She’s probably got cooties. Hootie Cootie Halle!” Holding his stomach, Ryan laughed uncontrollably.
My hands made contact with his shoulders, shoving him slightly, a warning. He stumbled back but kept on laughing at me.
“You better shut up!” The words pushed through my gritted teeth.
“Look how red your face is.” Ryan laughed and pointed. “Red is the color of love, you know. I hope Hootie doesn’t give you cooties, Brando.”
Before my brain registered what was happening, I grabbed the front of Ryan’s T-shirt, pulled him forward, then pushed as hard as I could, causing him to trip backward over his own feet. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, I jumped on top of him. Straddling Ryan, my adrenalin pumped with each punch to his ribs. I felt crazy, like I didn’t have any control over what my body was doing. A thick cloud of dirt and gravel kicked up around us, blocking everything out except that douchebag.
Ryan fought back as best he could, arms flailing, trying to hit any part of my body. But with each strike of his ribs, he went from fighting mode to pussy mode. We were about the same height, but I easily had ten pounds on him, making it hard for his skinny body to fight me off. He rolled from side to side, his arms striking out between blocks to his face and ribs. At first, the only sounds I heard were our own grunts and groans, but suddenly I heard what sounded like cheering.
“Atta boy, Brandon!”
“Fight back, Ryan!”
“Yeah!”
“Oh, shit! Here comes Coach Taylor!”
I was getting tired, but I kept pummeling Ryan until someone grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me off him. My arms were still swinging as Coach Taylor lifted me up and onto my feet. I looked down at Ryan with his arms wrapped around his stomach and his face coated in dirt.
“Johnson! What the fu—uh…what’s going on here?” Coach Taylor yelled.
Shrugging out of his grasp, I stayed silent and glanced at Ryan, who was being helped off the ground by the assistant coach. Coach Taylor looked between me and Ryan, waiting for one of us to confess.
“McNamara, explain what just happened here?”
Ryan continued looking down as he said, “Nothing, Coach. Brandon and I were just goofing around.”
I could feel Coach Taylor’s gaze on me, waiting for me to confirm Ryan’s story. I liked Coach a lot and didn’t want to lie to him. But I didn’t want to get into trouble either. I figured the best course of action was to keep my mouth shut. I looked over at Ryan, letting him know I’d keep this between the two of us. Since he seemed shook up and a little afraid of me, I figured I’d made my point. He knew I was a man of my word and if he bothered Halle again, I’d be after him. Ryan had learned his lesson, and I learned I could beat the shit out of someone if I needed to.
4
LET’S MAKE A DEAL
HALLE
Looking in the full-length mirror in the corner of my bedroom, I swished from side to side, admiring my new periwinkle dress for the upcoming school dance. The color made my eyes pop even brighter, especially since they were no longer hidden behind a thick pair of glasses. I decided to get contacts the summer before my sophomore year in high school. When they were first mentioned to me as an option, I cringed. The thought of sticking something on my eyeball was terrifying. But once I got the hang of it, putting them in and taking them out became a breeze. No more Hootie Halle.
It was hard to believe it had been five years since Ryan McNamara tormented me with the stupid nickname. I wasn’t sure what made him stop calling me Hootie, but ever since that day in front of my house, the only thing he ever called me was Halle. In fact, over the years Ryan had changed from a jerk to a nice guy and a hot one at that.
Playing baseball for several years had turned his body into a tall lean machine. He traded in bangs for a buzz cut, and his dark beady eyes morphed into ones that conveyed a warm kindness. Ryan was a good athlete as well as a brain, always landing at the top of his class.
Since I was a sophomore and Ryan a senior, we didn’t hang out a lot, but when we were around each other he made it a point to talk to me. He’d ask me about classes and general stuff like if I’d seen any good movies lately. When we were changing classes, he always stopped at my locker or waved at me in the hallway.
I got at least ten questions a day at school about him. What’s Ryan like? Does he have a girlfriend? Are you two a thing? My answers were always the same. He’s nice. I have no clue. And not in a million years, followed by laughter. There were rumors linking us together, for some reason, no matter how hard I tried to set things straight. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Ryan. But I never got that tickle deep in my stomach when I was around him. There was only one boy who tickled me.
“Is Brandon taking anyone to the dance?” I said over my shoulder to Paige.
“Dickwad? Who knows? Who cares?”
Paige was currently sprawled across my bed on her stomach, focused on her phone, her pair of Vans twisting in the air.
“Calling him dickwad isn’t very nice.” I disappeared into the closet to hang up my dress.
“Would you prefer I call him cock-chunk?”
My face screwed into a grimace. “Ew, no. Dickwad is fine. I don’t know why you talk about him that way. He’s not that bad.”
“You don’t have to live with him or smell him on a consistent basis.”
To be close enough to smell Brandon on a consistent basis would be awesome. Unfortunately, he didn’t give me a second look. We were friends up until four years ago, the summer, when I turned twelve he started acting weird. Since then, he rarely looked at me or spoke to me, and he never tried to make me laugh. When I was around him, he just looked annoyed and acted mad. For the life of me, I could not figure out what I did to ruin our friendship.
Over the years, I tried talking to him about it but all he did was make snarky remarks and walk away. Because of his lousy attitude, I wanted to hate him, but whenever he came anywhere near me, my body betrayed me and the butterflies took flight in my stomach.
I plopped down in my desk chair across from Paige. “So?”
“So what?”
“Who’s he taking to the dance?”
“I don’t even know if he’s going to the stupid dance.”
“He has to go, it’s his senior year.” I twisted in my chair and fidgeted with a pen.
Paige got up on all fours, then sat back on the bed. “You know I try not to get involved in my brother’s life.”
I sucked my lower lip into my mouth, hesitating for a moment. “I was just thinking we could ride with him if he doesn’t have a date.”
Paige and I were only a month away from getting our driver’s licenses. We just had our beginner’s permits, which meant we could drive at night, but there had to be a licensed driver over the age of twenty-one in the car, according to the powers that be in the state of South Carolina.
She looked at me like I’d just revealed I was a Martian. “I spend most of my life trying to avoid this human. Why would I want to be hermetically sealed in a car with him?”
“It’d only be for fifteen minutes. This way our parents wouldn’t have to take us. It’d be like we were grownups.” I smiled.
With pursed lips, Paige studied me for several minutes. I tried hard to keep my expression bland. It was Brandon’s senior year. He’d be graduating in a month and a half, then leaving for college at the end of the summer. Officially, I was no longer a fan of his since he’d started acting like a jerk. But deep down, I still loved the way I felt around him as long as he kept his mouth shut. My viewing opportunities were coming to an end and I needed to squeeze as many in as possible.
Clearing her throat, Paige said, “Okay…” Grinning from ear to ear, I clapped with excitement. Holding up her hand, she stopped me, dousing a bucket of ice water on my enthusiasm. “I will ask him if you promise me one thing.”
“Sounds reasonable. Shoot.”
“Stop crushing on him.”
A nervous chuckle floated from my lips. “Where are you getting that from? I don’t have a crush on Brandon.”
Paige’s hazel green eyes rolled all the way back in her head. “Who do you think you’re foolin’? I’ve seen the way you look at him. You get all nervous and fidgety. Your face turns every shade of red.”
“Maybe it’s a hot flash.”
“You’re too young for that.”
“I could be a…” Think. Think. Think. “A medical mir-acle,” I stammered, tapping the pen I was holding faster on the top of the desk. “Some women go through menopause at an early age.”
“My dad’s mom, you know, my grandbitch, calls it the Brazilian sandblaster.”
“Why?”
“How should I know? I barely and rarely talk to her. Maybe because Brazil is hot and dry. During menopause you dry up down there, and I guess it warms up.” We both glanced down at our individual crotches. “My point is, having menopause at our age would make you a medical oddity. A freak.”
“Alright, maybe I have a tiny crush on him, but it doesn’t matter. He hates me. It’s not like we’ll ever get together.”
Paige’s upper body lurched forward. “The bile is traveling up my esophagus. Please, spare me your teenage dreams.”
“So, you’ll ask him?”
“So, you’ll stop asking me about him?”
I contemplated exactly what I was agreeing to. It meant I couldn’t ask Paige anything about Brandon while he was off at college. I knew we’d never be a couple. He didn’t like me that way or any way. Besides, my dad would be livid. He’d come to accept my friendship with Paige. Deep down he liked her and even her mom, Mabry. But he was not a fan of Mr. Johnson and Brandon, for some reason. Neither Dad nor Mom would tell me the real story. Whenever I asked, Dad would grimace and Mom would smile, saying it was in the past.
The following year I’d be a junior, which meant focusing more on getting accepted into a good college. Add to that working on the school paper and yearbook committee and I’d be crazy busy. I probably wouldn’t have brain space for Brandon to occupy. By my senior year, he’d definitely be out of my system completely.
I extended my arm and Paige took my hand in hers so we could shake on it. “Deal.”
“Okay.” Her thumbs flew across the screen of her cell phone. Before sending, she looked at me. “You’re sure? Because once it’s sent, the deal is binding.”
I inhaled a deep breath and nodded. Paige clicked send. Then we waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.
Glancing at her phone lying on my bed, I finally said, “Is he even responding?”
Paige huffed. “It’s been less than five minutes since you agreed not to ask me about him and here you are asking about him!”
My hands and my pitch shot up. “I’m not asking about him. I’m asking about the text.”
“Oh my God! You’re impossible. I’m outta here.” Paige slid off the bed, heading for the door. Stopping, she turned back to face me, holding her phone up so that I could see the screen. “By the way, no three dots, no response.”
I hated to admit that my heart sank at the information. I mean, Brandon hated me and he wasn’t all that fond of his sister. Why would he give us a ride? I should never have made such a stupid deal.
Paige must have sensed my obvious regret. “Listen, once I know, you’ll know. Peace out, chick,” she said, giving me the peace sign.
Twisting the doorknob, she opened my bedroom door, catching Dad in mid-knock.
“Whassup, Doc?” Paige gave a cheesy grin.
A slight smirk appeared on Dad’s face. “Hello, Paige. How are you?”
Her head teetered back and forth. “Shakin’ it and bakin’ it.”
Dad’s dark brows furrowed. “I have no idea what that means.” He looked at me. “Halle, supper is ready.”
I stood and said, “Cool. I’m starving.”
Paige scooted out the door around my dad. “Hals, I’ll check you later and keep you updated.” She waved her phone and galloped down the stairs.
Turning to face me, Dad’s body filled the doorframe. For an old dude in his forties, he was in pretty good shape. He had muscles, a toned chest, and could be intimidating when he wanted to be.
“Keep you updated on what?”
Squeezing by him, I said, “It’s nothing. We were just figuring out our ride to the dance Friday.”
“Little Bird, I’m sorry I’ll be on call at the hospital that night. Y’all need to take a lot of pictures.”
“No worries. I know you’d be there if you could.”
“I thought your mom was taking you and Paige.”
I realized that technically, Paige and I hadn’t secured transportation yet. Anticipating my dad’s reaction, I felt it best to tell him about going with Brandon. Rip off the Band-Aid quickly.
“Brandon’s giving us a ride,” I mumbled, pushing past him.
“What did you say?”
I swallowed hard and blurted out, “Brandon is giving us a ride.”
Little by little, I saw his anger building. His jaw twitched as his back teeth seemed to grind together. His muscles tensed. His back stiffened. His hands flexed. His eyes narrowed. It was kind of like watching David Banner transform into the Hulk, except instead of turning lime green, Dad was turning a deep shade of red.
“Dad, calm down. I know what you’re thinking.”
“I am calm. In fact, I’m the epitome of calm. That’s why I’m able to tell you in a calm manner that having Brandon Johnson take you anywhere is not going to happen.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because it’s a horrible idea.”
“Says who?” I snapped.
“Says me, your father, standing right in front of you.”
“Give me one good reason why Brandon can’t take me to the dance!”
“One, he’s a troublemaker. Two, he’s older. Three, I don’t trust him. Four, I don’t like him.”
With each item he listed, the temperature of my blood rose. “I asked for just one.”
“Now you have an overabundance. No need to ask me again.”
“You don’t even really know him!”
“I know his father,” he said harshly.
“So?”
“So, that’s all I need to know, young lady.”
“You’re being unfair,” I whined.
“I’m your father, it’s my job to be unfair.”
Realizing I wouldn’t be able to change his mind, I let out a loud “harrumph,” spun on my heels, and stomped down to supper.
5
YOU’VE LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND
BRANDON
“It’s a fucking horrible idea. The answer is no.”
My sister had completely lost her mind. The last thing I wanted to do was play chauffeur to a couple of teeny boppers, especially when one of them was Halle Stewart. I came downstairs to the kitchen for a bottle of water, and she’d been chattering in my ear ever since.
Mom walked through the door, Paige wailed, “Mo-o-o-m, tell Brandon to do it!”
“Can I set my things down first before I delve into what it is?” Mom placed her briefcase and purse on the kitchen table.
“Yeah, Paige, have some respect. Our beloved mother has worked hard all day. The last thing she needs is to deal with your whiny ass and teenage dramatics.”
“Kiss my ass, Brandon!” Paige shouted across the island.
“Move your nose, Paige!”
Mom’s hand went into the air, demanding silence. She grabbed a bottle of her favorite red wine and a glass from the cabinet. Filling the glass, she said, “Okay, Paige, explain to me what it is.”
“Thank you, Mother dear.” Paige sneered in my direction. “Halle and I need a ride to the dance. All I’m asking of my douche of a brother is to be that ride.”
After a couple of sips, Mom advised, “Not sure calling him a douche is a step in the right direction in convincing him to do you a favor.”
Paige’s lips formed a straight line. “I meant douche in the best possible sense of the word.”
