Book of Love Page 2

  “I love you, Jane.”

  That was ten years ago, but it still felt like yesterday. I was so young, but in that instant, all the youth was stolen from me and our lives changed forever. In that instant, I’d become the mother, and Mother had become lost. I was too young to grow up, too young to worry, and now, it was all I knew—seventeen going on thirty-four; my mother thirty-four going on dead.

  That’s how I saw it.

  My mother was an empty shell, left broken on the beach.

  Wes:

  I waved as the car passed, rolling my eyes. Emily was a mess. Too young to realize exactly what she was doing. Jane, though, she was something else. When she waved, it was as though the whole world stopped. I sighed. To her, though, I was just a friend.

  I got in my car, rubbing my hand that had begun to hurt. I looked down, my gaze tracing the bones and knuckles. They ached as though I’d been up all night playing video games. I flipped it over and looked at my palm, and then put it on the shifter of my 86 Camaro. I watched as my fingers shook. Shutting my eyes, I tried to stifle the pain.

  For the last week, the pain had been acting up. I didn’t know what it was from, but I had a hunch. I needed to lay off the hobbies. I suppose painting model cars had its dangers. I sighed. It wasn’t just that, though. I hadn’t felt at all spectacular, and the changes in my height and weight… that alone put me on edge. I no longer wanted to go outside. I was afraid someone would notice. I thought I was done growing two years ago, but this spurt had been the biggest yet. My stomach grumbled with nerves and a strawberry Pop Tart.

  My parents gave me up for adoption when I was just a baby. Life in the orphanage had forced me to grow up fast, and when I was finally taken in, it still left me with a gaping hole in my heart. It was times like now that I wish I knew my parents. The pain inside me was something I hoped they could explain, but I’d never found them—no matter how hard I tried.

  I started the car with shaking hands. I usually took Jane to school, but this year with her sister being there, I figured her mother wanted make sure Emily at least made it to the front door. From there, it was out of her hands.

  I would try one more time to get Jane’s attention this year—try at last to be the guy of her dreams. She was my only hope for happiness here.

  I loved her.

  With one last deep breath, I looked over my shoulder and backed out of the driveway. This was it: senior year. Things were bound to get better.

  Jane:

  We pulled up to the school in silence as Emily gave me one last glare. She snatched her black backpack off the seat beside me, rolling her eyes. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye to Mother as she slammed the car door behind her, storming down the walkway and into school.

  I sighed.

  “Mother, I’m sorry. I’ll try to watch her.” I felt as though it were my fault she had misbehaved. I saw Wes walk by the car, glancing toward it but continuing on, understanding that my mother and I were talking about serious matters. My eyes followed him, inspecting his ever changing physique and spiked golden hair. I shuddered with guilt, training my eyes straight ahead.

  My mother looked at me through the rearview with a gaunt expression. “Jane, it’s not your fault. I just don’t know what to do with her. I wish I knew what she was up to.” She shifted the car into park. “She’s not doing anything… illegal, right?”

  “I…” I wanted to tell her, but the dark circles under her eyes reminded me that she had enough to deal with already.

  She gave me a pained smile. “Just keep your eyes open, Jane. That’s all I ask.”

  Her words wracked me with guilt. I knew I needed to tell her what was really going on, but what could she do? She didn’t need to know, and that was my decision. Someone needed to protect my mother.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt, grabbing my bag and sliding from the car.

  “I’ll watch out for her, Mom. I promise.” I smiled and shut the door, lowering my head as I walked around the car and toward the steps.

  I heard her drive off behind me, quickening my pace as I saw that all the students were already inside. When I reached the doors, the bell rang. I exhaled sharply—already late and it was only the first day.

  I grabbed the handles of the doors and swung them open, walking briskly inside. My feet clapped against the linoleum floor, echoing off the lockers on either side. There was another echo in the hall as well, and with my head still down, I peeked up. I allowed my hair to shield me in case it was a rule-hungry teacher, bent on disciplining stray students on their first day.

  My eyes landed on the back of a boy that was up ahead, walking with leisurely poise. I quickly looked back down at my feet, turning as I reached my homeroom and grabbed the handle of the door. The echoes in the hall ceased at the same time my own footsteps did. Startled, I looked up, my eyes finding the boy as he stood by a locker at the end of the hall. He didn’t seem to notice me as he worked at the lock. He was new; that wasn’t hard to tell. We didn’t get many new kids in Glenwood Springs, Colorado; at least none that looked like him.

  He had on a dark grey T-shirt, despite the fact that it was an unseasonably cool day. His jeans were a faded navy and unmarked, a far cry from the designer jeans I was used to seeing here. I looked at his feet, noticing he wore a pair of brown leather shoes—a fashion faux pas considering the grey T-shirt.

  I examined his profile, noting the strong jaw line, a small freckle positioned near his ear. His lashes were long and thick, a dark brown that could almost be considered black; his hair matched. It was medium length and tossed expertly away from his face. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, revealing a dimple on his cheek.

  He lifted his arms, exhibiting a string of muscles linking from his shoulders to his wrists. He placed a stack of books inside his locker and shifted his stance to position them, allowing me a glimpse at the inside of his forearms. I squinted and saw he had tattoos inked from his elbow to his wrist, also something you didn’t see much in Glenwood Springs—especially when most of us weren’t even eighteen yet.

  There was something aside from his looks that had attracted me, though. It wasn’t as if he were dreamy as in Zac Efron dreamy, but actually typical despite the array of attractive features. My brows were drawn together as I stood frozen for a moment, my hand on the handle of the door. He was too far away from me to see his future death, but there was something. A familiar image flashed across my thoughts, like a bit of déjà vu. I tried to hold onto the image as my breath caught in my throat. The image slowly washed away before I could see what it was, and I was left struggling to make sense of it. The boy slammed the locker door and I snapped back to reality. He turned away from me and walked down the hall, unaware of my gawking existence.

  I shook my head and opened the door to homeroom, walking in as everyone stared. Their eyes reflected the judgment I was sure was in their heads. My breathing stopped.

  “You’re late, Ms. Taylor.” Mrs. West glared at me over her bifocals. She motioned me to sit. I scanned the room, finding Wes as I exhaled with relief. I quickly made my way toward him, sitting down at the desk he had saved for me.

  “You made it,” he whispered. “And just in time for the prom committee to preach.” He rolled his eyes. “Why do they insist on making us get involved? Besides, it’s like, months away.”

  I nodded, taking out a piece of paper and eyeing the list of less-than-essential prom notes on the board. I blew at a strand of hair that had obstructed my vision. I was already anxious for lunch.

  Wes:

  I threw my lunch down on the table, startling Jane out of a trance.

  “Hey, Jane. I’ve been meaning to apologize about the other night.”

  I sat down, rummaging through the lunch my foster mother had packed. I’d fallen asleep on the couch while we were watching the movie Constantine. I felt like an idiot for sleeping on Jane’s shoulder, but she didn’t seem to care, which was a good sign. My bouts of exhaustion were part of this illness I
seemed to have. Perhaps it was cancer, here to put me out of my misery.

  Jane set a carton of milk on the table.

  “I can’t believe they’re making us eat outside. It’s raining.” She glanced at me and then looked to the sky.

  Jane had changed the subject as she always did. I felt my heart sink.

  “Seems strange for this time of year,” I added, forgetting what I’d said before, knowing it was a failed attempt to find some significance in what we had done.

  Jane refused to talk about us. After what had happened this summer, I figured I’d finally had her. The next day, though, Jane acted like it never happened. Even now, nothing was said.

  “Yeah.” Jane’s voice was sad, like it always was. “It’s been raining more and more every year, and earlier too.”

  I swallowed a bite of sandwich, staring at her long lashes as I chewed. Jane’s eyes were locked on the table, her finger scratching at the wood.

  “Are you still… you know… having nightmares?” I asked, afraid to bring up the subject.

  Jane’s gaze rose from the table and met mine. Her voice was low as she responded.

  “Yeah. Everyday for the past ten years. Why stop now, right?” Her voice had an annoyed edge.

  I took another bite of burger.

  “Have you told your mother?” It was a dumb question. I knew Jane didn’t tell her mother anything—she only told me.

  Jane snorted. “No. She’ll probably just blow me off like she always does.”

  I dropped the subject.

  A loud giggle erupted from across the courtyard and we both looked in the direction of the sound, recognizing the tone. Jane shook her head as we watched Emily flirt with a senior by the basketball courts.

  She snorted. “Great.”

  I pressed my lips together, feeling sorry for Jane. “I can’t believe Emily’s talking to him. He’s probably the biggest druggy in school. What is she thinking?” I looked at Jane for affirmation.

  Jane glared at me, probably disliking that I’d emphasized the druggy part. I’d said the wrong thing.

  She picked up her milk, taking a sip through the straw. “Well, looks like I have my work cut out for me. So much for senior year.” Jane dropped her milk to the table as the carton slapped against the wood. “Hey, I have an idea.” Her eyes were suddenly wide, a smirk lighting across her rosy cheeks.

  I groaned, knowing it involved me somehow.

  “You should date her, Wes.” She began to nod. “Yeah. If you could get her to fall in love, I bet you could get her to snap out of this phase she’s in.” Her long brown hair got caught in the wind, exposing her face. Her skin was soft, her doe eyes filled with so much life. She was beautiful when she was happy.

  I laughed. “Stop teasing, Jane.”

  Jane wasn’t laughing.

  “You were serious?” I felt my heart continue to crumble. That was a brush off I couldn’t deny, and for a moment, I stopped breathing.

  “Yeah, Wes. Come on, you’re handsome. You could get any girl you wanted.”

  “Yeah…” my voice trailed off but she didn’t notice.

  Jane sensed my lack of enthusiasm. “Or maybe we could find someone else to do it.”

  She began to scan the crowd for eligible boys with a desire to save a troubled mind—Emily’s mind—if there even was such a guy. Then again, I guess I was that sort of guy, but only when the troubled teen was Jane.

  I watched her like a pathetic loser. There were a million cute girls at this school, but everyone paled in comparison to Jane. My hand began to hurt again, starting as a tingle and slowly growing into a deep burn. I rubbed it with an obvious grimace on my face.

  It was then that Jane took my hand and began to massage it. I instantly forgot about the pain, now focusing on the way it felt to have her hand touching mine.

  “Acting up again?” She had a concerned look on her face, and I allowed myself to pretend that it was linked to love.

  I nodded, my heart beating so fast that words became hard to form.

  She let go. “Do you think you’ll be okay for wrestling this year?”

  I loved to wrestle, just about as much as I loved Jane. I liked that it kept me in shape. I always thought that if I looked hot enough, she would like me more, but it didn’t seem to work that way.

  “Yeah,” I tried to act tough. “It’s nothing.” In truth, it began to hurt so bad that my hand finally went numb. I quickly tried to think of an excuse to leave, now feeling the burn creep up my arm. “I’m going to go get another carton of milk. Need anything?”

  Jane shook her head, looking down at the table once more. “No, I may just go to the library. I don’t think I can handle watching my sister doing her deeds first hand.”

  I glanced back to where Jane’s sister was still standing with the senior by the courts, just in time to see him hand Emily something in an orange bottle and grab her ass. “I see what you mean.” I winced as I said it, the pain now causing my head to spin.

  We both stood, parting ways as she headed to the library and I headed to my car.

  I needed to get out of here.

  Max:

  There she was.

  If I had a heart beat, I’m pretty sure it would have stopped. I leaned against the wall, watching her as she sat at the table in the courtyard. I really didn’t know why I felt so drawn to her, but I knew it was something I couldn’t ignore. They had warned me of the danger in the connection between what I was and what she was, but I ignored them. With each passing year, my link to her only grew more apparent. I understand now why they say it’s bad to indulge in the feeling. It consumes you, becomes the only thing you can think of—love.

  I knew I’d broken the rules with Jane, but something about her had been different. When I’d touched her soul, something happened inside my own. I had to spare her despite the shadows with which it left her.

  She laughed, wind blowing through her brown hair as it did when she was in her dreams. There, she was confident, but here, I saw she was dwarfed and sad—a small spark of the person I knew. I could show her how to live again—she could show me.

  My gaze skimmed across her form. She was tall, her brown eyes just as wide and curious as they were when she was a child, when they stared into mine. She had a constellation of freckles on either cheek, mixing with the natural rose of her glow. She always saw herself as a black swan, but to me, she was anything but.

  I licked my lips and ran a hand through my hair. I knew it was dangerous to let her see me, but something told me it was the right thing to do—it was finally the right time to do it. She needed someone to comfort her. She needed to know that I was here to comfort her. Someday, she would come to remember me and what I’d done.

  I focused on her chest, hearing her heart beat—her breathing like a gentle wind in my ear. I was attuned to her every movement, her every lungful of air, as though they were my own to protect. We were bound by the sacrifice I’d made to save her life. I relished the feeling of her existence inside me—a feeling I’d long forgotten.

  Jane stood then, and left the table. Her friend left as well. He walked in my direction, his steps heavy and his face creased with pain. I looked from him and back to her.

  I clenched my fists and took a step forward, wanting to follow her. I took one step before I froze. The sound of her heart was suddenly silenced by a deep ringing in my ears. I winced, hiding the pain as it made my head pound. The familiar metallic smell of blood wafted into my nostrils, making me want to cough.

  I turned my attention back to her friend as he drew close. I hid the pain from him, watching him as our eyes locked. Both our paces slowed as we passed shoulder to shoulder, staring each other down, knowing what each other had felt. My arm began to ache as his soreness pulsed through me. I felt shame then, and suffering.

  He finally passed, and as he got further away, the metallic smell faded along with the pain. I leaned against a wall to regroup. I hadn’t expected that. It had been years since I’d
come across it. I’d thought that they were gone from the area. It was then that I remembered what they had left behind. I should have known better than to forget them—forget him.

  I turned and looked back as I rounded the corner, our eyes meeting one last time before he slid away. I took a deep breath, the bones in my back crackling as I stood straight. He was young, I could tell from the pain, possibly still unaware of the power inside him. I blinked a few times, already concerned.

  I walked on, following Jane instead. As I drew closer, her heart began to beat in my chest once more. I kept my distance, though. Not yet.

  Another friend was waiting for her.

  Jane:

  I walked across the lawn with the milk carton in hand when someone grabbed me from around the corner, yanking me into the hall. I knew who it was as soon as their hand touched my skin, their foreseen death flashing across my mind. I yelped, trying to hold my balance as the milk fell from my hand. It hit the ground, splashing what was left onto the soles of my Converse.

  I looked up, a sour expression on my face.

  “Hey, Jane!” Liz was staring at me, her perfectly coiffed blond hair cascading down her back. “Did you get that reading done?” She blinked. I watched her long dark lashes flutter. They were so long I feared she’d blow me away.

  I tried to press the images of her laying dead at the bottom of a lake out of my head. The story changed every day, depending on what was happening in her life at the time. The lake was a new one. I took note of it.

  I swallowed hard, regrouping and rolling my eyes. Liz was another friend I couldn’t seem to brush off. “Yeah. I got it done.” I pulled my backpack from my back, rummaging through its contents.

  Liz was quite literally the only other person I conversed with. A long time ago, we had been best friends. We grew up having the same teachers through elementary school, but come junior high, we had grown apart. She was a cheerleader, and dubbed to be one of the best looking girls in school. She wore Dior makeup, and tanned regularly, leaving me looking like a pale speck of dust in comparison.