Harder To Love Than Blood

Some schools are torturous; cliques ruling the social scenes, jocks and cheerleader Barbie dolls ruling the halls, every move you made pre-calculated to appease any possible transgression against the vindictive popular types who don’t even acknowledge your existence much less care about anything you do for them.

Then there are schools that are so beneath school board radar that they’re more like meeting points between friends than actual schools, where the teachers don’t care if you do your work or not, and the students run the tagged-up halls whenever they feel like it, and if someone does crack a book, it’s usually to draw in it with a giant permanent marker.
Aurora Central was somewhere in between. The only real “cliques” were the athletes and the scholars. The teachers were nice enough but Clive had been right, they seemed to pay particular attention to the athletes unless the scholars were in their class element or they were a particular student that headed a particular group. Clarence Mosley was heading an upcoming academic triathlon and received not just a mass amount of attention from Mrs. Carson, the history teacher, but abundance more homework.

If more praise from faculty meant more papers to take home for study, I’d gladly be a wallflower. Good luck, Clarence.

“My finger doesn’t reach that far.”

“Just try it. Move your hand a little more. Yeah, that’s it. Just like that.”

“This feels a little awkward.”

“It sounds a little awkward.”

I glanced around Mrs. Sonnet who had been trying to teach me a basic scale on the piano and made a face at Clive as he stood off stage. “At least it’s better than a bunch of guys chasing after balls.”

Clive grinned. “You’re only saying that because you get to sit down and stay there.”

Not really. My butt was starting to hurt.

“What are you doing here anyway, Clive?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

He laughed. “Told you to meet me out front after school. You’re the one who didn’t show.” He shook his finger at me, like he was chastising a little girl for getting into the cookies before dinner.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Very mature, Mands.”

“Thank you.” I did my best to curtsey while sitting. Wasn’t graceful, then again, nothing I do ever is. “And when did the bell ring?”

Clive checked the chunky black watch on his wrist. “Just over twenty minutes ago.”

Which meant I’d been sitting here for just over an hour and twenty minutes. After Peter helped me with my schedule, it turned out that I had enough credits in math from my previous school that I didn’t need to take pre-calculus here. Which left one class free, and I was able to fill that class with orchestra, which, as it turned out, could be taken as a class and not just an after school activity. Two birds, one stone. So hopefully I could get more learning time this way that I don’t have to work too much after hours for any recitals or whatnot. Easy as pie.

Very chunky, achy, butt-numbing pie. I don’t like pie anymore.

I laced my fingers together and stretched my arms over my head, arching my back enough that my spine cracked and popped with the shift. It was such a relief of tension that it drew out a hard exhale and almost had me falling over the piano’s keys. I groaned.

Mrs. Sonnet—a sweet, petite Asian lady with straight black hair, an American husband, and a love for floral print blouses—patted my shoulder. “Sorry I kept you so long, Amanda. But you’re doing well for a first try. We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow. Okay?”

I nodded tiredly at her. I really didn’t want to come back. Ever.

Outside, Clive and I headed out toward the same place the bus would have picked us up—if I hadn’t stayed so long I made us miss it.

“Crap,” I said, when I realized we were stuck here.

Clive bumped me with his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I already called DJ and he’s on his way to get us.”

Just as he finished saying that, a car horn drew our attention to a gold Ranger 4x4. Clive got into the passenger side and I took a seat behind DJ.

Our oldest brother smiled at me through the review mirror. “Have a good first day, Mands?”
Clive made a noise, but if it was a snort of laughter or a gag of disgust, I couldn’t tell. I glared at him either way. “It was fine. But my butt hurts.”

Clive rolled his eyes in amusement. “Thanks for sharing.”

I patted his shoulder. “Always good to be of service.”

DJ tapped the wheel of the Ranger and pasted on a cheerful smile. “Well, make sure you get any work you have done as soon as we get home. Can’t leave things like that waiting.”

I raised by brow at him. “Nice try. Drop me off at the bookstore.”

He groaned in defeat. Yeah, like I would really forget about that. Nice try. I even remembered to pack the application in my bag before school.

As we started down the main street, I could have sworn there was a familiar little clunker holding out around the corner of the school. I scratched the back of my neck, then realized that there were a lot of well-used cars around town. One’s dinky Corolla could look like another’s battered Crown Vic, could look like another’s worn-out Buick.

I continued to rub my neck on the way to Ink Leaf.

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“Remember, call when you’re ready. And don’t leave the store until I’m out front.”

I was standing out front of the Ink Leaf, my arms folded along the window frame of the Ranger’s driver-side door, my forehead resting on my arms as I struggled to remember that I shouldn’t reach through and strangle my brother—he was my ride home.

“And if you have to—”

“I get it! Use protection and don’t take candy from strangers. Can I please go now, Mom?” I gave him pleading eyes, but DJ just pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at me. I rubbed my forehead and felt my eyes cross. “Look, I’m a big girl, DJ. Just because you weren’t there to see it doesn’t mean I didn’t grow up. I know all the hazards of being a poor little girl in the big, bad city. I’ll stay in the store after dark. Can I go in now?”

DJ took in a deep breath. He was like a mother trying to convince herself that her child’s first day of school was meant to be, whether she was ready or not. Finally, he gave a single hard nod. “Okay. Have fun. Earn your keep. And try not to kick anyone in the nuts unless they deserve it.”

I gave him an unimpressed look as Clive, who had been sitting quietly in the passenger side during the whole exchange, snorted in morbid laughter at the jibe toward Jonathan. I was thinking of telling both of them to step out of the car so it’ll give me a clearer shot, but I waved goodbye and let them go. Wasn’t I a nice sister?

Turning into the bookstore, the bell clang once again to announce my presence. Gladys looked up from the counter, the expectant look of a possible sale shifting into a welcoming smile of recognition.

“So good you could come. Did you bring back your application with guardian compliance?”

“Sure did. And it really is my brother’s signature.” I grinned when she gave me narrowed eyes, but the tip of her lips said she was amused.

I handed the paper to her and she gave it a quick once over just to make sure everything was filled out correctly as she motioned me around the counter. It only took five minutes for me to have the register known and the motions of a sale down. When a couple came in to buy a James Patterson and a few V. C. Andrewses, I watched over her shoulder as she scanned and rang everything up. It was also a learning point when they paid by credit card and I got to see Gladys’s fingers fly over the number key pad without looking away from the numbers on the card.

I probably would have managed to enter a self-destruct code for the poor machine if I had tried that.

Something to file away and apply later when I get a little personal time with DJ’s computer at home.

“G’bye! Thank you and have a great evening,” Gladys called out as the pair exited the front, smiling and waving as they left. Gladys sighed contentedly with a happy sale as I watched the two men walked towards their car, hand in hand.

As they got in and drove away, I was turning back to the counter when a battered Corolla chugged its way away from the curb across the street. And as paranoid as I had fought away from being earlier, there was no denying that that had been Malone in the car. No other person made that big of a figure in a car’s front seat.

Either Jonathan wasn’t letting up on his little gag, or Carter Malone really was a reporter doing a piece on wild animals in suburban neighborhoods. No other reason for him to be hanging around this area, I was sure.

What I wasn’t sure on, was if he was canvassing the neighborhoods and his presence was coincidental, or he, for some extremely odd reason, was following me.

I’ll have to have a talk with Jonathan about this when I get home.

“You did well your first day,” Gladys said nearly an hour later as she fixed a couple of fallen books on display. “I’m lucky you came when you did. It might have been slow today but I’m hoping it’ll pick up soon.”

Ugh! I couldn’t even imagine it. I’d been on my feet for five hours after being on my butt for an hour and a half, and all I wanted right now was to curl up on the carpeted floor and pass out.

I let out a tired groan in response and she laughed heartedly. Then I went over to the shop’s landline and dialed the number DJ forced me to memorize before he allowed me to leave the truck.

The line connected and DJ was talking before I could even say hi.

“I’ll be right there. What took you so long? You won’t be staying this late tomorrow, will you? Remember, don’t leave the store until I get there. I’m on my way.”

The line disconnected and I was left standing there with my mouth slightly open and the dial tone buzzing in my ear. “Hunh. Wonder what would have happened if I had been a telemarketer.” Gladys laughed—no doubt having heard DJ’s booming voice through the earpiece—as I set the phone back down on the cradle and set to work with the broom and dustpan.

Less than two minutes later, DJ was pulling his big Ranger truck up in front of the store, hugging the curb so tight that he might as well have parked against the front door. Then he got out and jogged up to the door, rapping on it whit his knuckles.

“Sorry, we’re closed!” I smiled at him politely as he narrowed his eyes at me, totally not amused. I totally was. “Guess it’s my time to get gone,” I told Gladys. I grabbed my bag from behind the counter and flipped it over my shoulder. As I came back around, Gladys was looking toward DJ, a look of watchfulness in her eyes.

Probably cursing the fates that he was twenty years younger, I thought. DJ was cute, in a young executive in casual Friday clothes kind of way.

“See you tomorrow, Gladys,” I said, grinning at her.

Her shoulders gave a slight jerk as she got caught staring. “Oh, uh, yeah. See you tomorrow, Amanda.” She smiled, a very slight flush to her cheeks. “And thanks again. I mean it.”

We parted ways and DJ made sure I was in the truck before he went around and climbed in the driver’s side. He was being an overbearing, protective twit. I was going to have to break him of that as soon as possible.