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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781509223527 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Wild Rose Press |
| Publication date: | 02/06/2019 |
| Pages: | 262 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.55(d) |
About the Author
Julia spends most of her free time reading, writing, and chauffeuring her kids between activities. She lives happily with her husband and two children wherever the Army happens to station them.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
"Give me back my tray and get the hell out of my life!" The roar of voices and clanging kitchen utensils clattered into a voyeuristic silence.
My voice had carried a little farther — screeched a little louder — than I'd intended it to. Even Coach Scott cocked his head out from behind the lunch lady at the cash register across the room. One of his eyebrows flew up his face, almost landing in his receding hairline.
I swallowed hard and ran my eyes over the crowd staring at me. No one bothered to look at Cal. Icicles tunneled their way through my chest and into my gut. I'd sworn never to let him goad me into making a spectacle of myself again. But I'd failed. As usual. Still, I couldn't let any of them see me so much as blink in further agitation. Especially Cal. It was him I had to keep from seeing me waver.
Holding out my hand and lowering my voice, I repeated, "Give me my food and leave me alone."
He smirked. "Or what?"
"Or — or I'll tell someone what you did to me." My hand shook, but I kept it extended. The skin over my bicep tingled. I didn't rub it. I would not show him the slightest sign of weakness.
"Really?" He traced a fingertip down a wisp of hair that had escaped my ponytail. "I don't believe you. You haven't told anyone, not even when my mom asked you straight out last summer."
"I'll tell her now. You know how terrified she is you'll turn out like —"
"No. You won't." Not even a hint of worry flickered across his face. "And you couldn't if you wanted to. She's out of town on another one of her tours. Besides, she wouldn't believe you now." He shifted toward me the tiniest bit, mouth quirking to one side. "Come back to me, Lexie. I love you more than anyone else ever could. I'll try to be better for you. And you have nowhere else to go."
He was right.
The icicles in my gut dissolved into molten lead. I was alone. I had no friends. And I'd spent almost two years making everyone believe he was perfect. Not that anyone would have listened to a negative word about Cal. He charmed every adult he spoke to with his pretty use of ma'ams and sirs and his undeniable talent on a football field. All the girls in school thought he was their sexy, blue-eyed dream. I had thought he was a dream.
Until he became my living nightmare.
I shook my head. Maybe I should just go back to him. Acid burned in my throat. My hands trembled.
One. Two. Three, four, five. You've gotta fight to stay alive.
I sucked in a deep breath and let my mom's words echo in my head again, thinking they'd help. Of course, they hadn't for my mom. And they certainly hadn't for — no. I couldn't think of my mom right now. And I certainly couldn't think about her. Nope. I had to face the beast in front of me at the moment and, with him, the one thing I knew to be absolutely true — I could never go back to Cal.
I wouldn't survive it.
Needles of anxiety shot down my arms, but I squared my shoulders. I leaned toward Cal with as much bravado as I could muster. There was still one person in my life that might care what happened to me, even if he was the last person I'd ever ask for help. "But I can tell my dad, and he'll probably kill you."
Color leached from Cal's skin. "You wouldn't dare."
"Try me." I pried my lunch out of his hands.
My grin held as I wound my way through the maze of tables. Hopefully, no one heard the clatter of silverware against the plastic of my tray over the din that resumed around me. Kids whispered behind their hands as I stumbled past them. It took forever to make it out the doors and into the courtyard. I blew out another series of deep breaths. I'd managed to rupture his ego — if only for the moment — but it wouldn't be long before Cal remembered how unwilling I was to tell my dad anything. That was a fact he'd relied on for the entirety of our relationship.
Tossing my tray onto the rubber-coated metal of the nearest empty picnic table, I sank down on a bench in a heap of shivers. After another moment or two of panic, the sensation of being watched pricked at my neck. I straightened, fighting back a wave of nausea intensified by the smell of government cheese wafting from my lunch.
I tried to look normal, but my already disgusting cafeteria food had been tainted beyond consumption by Cal's touch. I pushed it away and wished a millionth time for an open campus lunch hour. So what if there was only one fast food restaurant within ten miles of my dusty cattle town? At the very least, I could have snuck home for a minute of peace.
But he'd have followed you.
The unbidden thought slithered through me with a shudder. Maybe it was safer to be trapped at school with him after all.
"You all right?" The close sound of a gravelly voice almost sent me clawing for the tree branches above my head.
"Yeah. I am. Thank you for asking." It seemed my entire lunch hour was to be haunted by males from my past. "You ... I ... you're talking to me again?"
The picnic table wobbled under the weight of his six-foot, four-inch frame as Chuy sat beside me. "You looked like you needed a friend."
"I do. I ... uh. Hi. How have you been?" The sobs clawing at my insides clamored for release, but I rammed them back down. Now wasn't the time. I had a burnt bridge to mend with Chuy, and I was making a wreck of it with my ridiculous mouth. "I — I didn't think you'd ever forgive me."
He sighed. "I forgave you about five minutes after you dumped our friendship to date him."
"You did?"
"Yeah."
"Why?" It didn't make sense. I didn't deserve his forgiveness. Even after two years, I hadn't forgiven myself, but I'd missed him almost every day.
"Ah, come on. It's not like any guy wants his girlfriend having another guy as her best friend. As much as I hated him for it, even I get why Cal kept you away from me." Chuy nudged my shoulder.
The light touch provoked a wince I couldn't suppress.
My most recent bruise — and hopefully my last for a long time — was still far from healed.
Chuy's face puckered with shock. "Did I hurt you?"
"Uh ... not really. I — I'm just sore from volleyball practice." Rubbing a gentle hand across the huge lump on my upper arm, I caught him eyeing the long sleeves of my shirt. While they kept any marks on my body safely out of sight, they also felt suddenly conspicuous in the late summer heat of the Texas desert. Chuy couldn't learn the truth. I couldn't afford for anyone else to be dragged into the crap bag that was my life. I slapped a smile on my face and flexed a disguised muscle. "Lots of push-ups yesterday, you know?"
"Right." His brow furrowed a bit before he stood. "Are you sure you're okay? I saw what happened in the cafeteria just now, and I know how Cal can be."
The sunlight dappled through the leaves above. "Thanks, but I'm okay. Or I will be, anyway."
"Well, let me know if you need anything."
"I will." Grabbing my untouched tray, I got up too. It was almost time for the bell to ring. "Wait. What do you mean you know how he can be?"
Chuy shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "I've played football with Cal most of my life, and I only put up with him on the field because I have to. I've never been one to talk smack behind people's backs, but that guy is a complete culero."
A crack in the pavement jumped up and tripped me, and I splattered enchiladas onto the sidewalk in retaliation. "He's — you mean — you know? How did I never know how you felt about him?"
"Lex, I've been up close and personal with Cal since the fourth grade. He uses everyone he can and crushes those he can't." He bent down to pick up the metal fork stabbing into spilled food and handed it to me. "I guess I should've warned you about him freshman year, but you'd just moved here. We'd only known each other a few months. And I might have been a little bitter when you ghosted our friendship."
Guilt walloped me like a chunk of flying cinderblock. "I'm so sorry, Chuy. I really am. I missed you so much, but I couldn't ..." A suddenly parched mouth wouldn't let me get the rest of my words out without a fight. "He — well, let's just say I'd go back and change it all if I could."
"I know." He flashed me a little smile and turned, but he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Lex ... I just, well, I've been worried since you broke up with him last week. You need to be careful. Okay?"
I wanted to scream, Why are you being so nice to me? at his back, but he strode off and joined the rest of the jocks exiting the cafeteria. Instead, I worked my way through the crowd to place my now empty tray at the wash window inside. I told the lady behind the counter about my spill and offered to clean it up. She waved me away and, as I turned toward the main hall and my locker, I stepped lighter than I had a few minutes before. The pain in my arm faded a tiny bit. A warmth flickered to life in my belly.
Maybe — just maybe — I wasn't so alone after all.
CHAPTER 2My chest heaved. The fifteen-minute run at the beginning of practice was too much. I'd never had trouble before, but my body seemed to be in sudden revolt. When Coach Scott finally blew the whistle, I stumbled to the center of the gym and collapsed onto the wooden floor. The other girls followed too soon, forming a circle around me. I groaned and sat up to count off the stretches.
I took a deep breath and allowed the sound of squeaking shoes, the rattle of the ancient air conditioner, and my teammates' voices echoing in the gym to work together to settle my roiling stomach. After all the stretching was done, I leaned over to inhale the scent of the floor and let loose a little moan.
The volleyball court was home.
"All right, ladies, take the balls and line up for wall drills." Scottie sent the ball basket wheeling toward the net before beckoning for me to follow him to the other side of the gym. "Brewer, you meet me over there."
I trotted over to where he stood by the bleachers. "What's up, Coach?"
"What happened at lunch today?"
My guts went back to gurgling. "Nothing."
"Don't tell me it was nothing." He hovered his hand over my shoulder then patted me. I managed not to flinch. "I know better. You don't cause scenes. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah." I showed my teeth in what I hoped looked like a real smile. "Everything's fine."
"No. It isn't. Tell me what's going on, Lex."
My eyes flicked to the dust collecting in hairy gray puffs where the court met the stands. "It's nothing, Coach. I just broke up with Cal, and he's not so happy about it. That's all."
"Is that really all?" He ducked his head, forcing me to meet his dark eyes. "There's nothing more you need to tell me?"
"That's it." The man was out of it if he thought I'd tell him any more than I already had. What had happened between Cal and me belonged buried in the grave next to my mother's. "Can I get to the drills now?"
His extensive forehead wrinkled. "Fine."
I turned for the ball basket.
"But ... Lex?"
I skidded to a stop. "Yes, sir?"
"You better tell me if there's something more going on. That scene in the cafeteria today got me worried about that boy not taking your break up well, and I need to make sure your head stays in the game tomorrow. We — you — can't afford any distractions."
"Sure thing, Scottie."
"By the way, you were pretty awesome today, telling Cal to get out of your life." He shifted his whistle to fit more comfortably under his collar. "If I were so inclined, I might even call you badass. But that wouldn't be an appropriate thing for a teacher to say, would it?" Scottie tossed me a rare grin before stomping off to yell at one of the girls half-heartedly setting against the wall.
His focus finally pointed elsewhere, I made a break for the volleyballs and picked out one of my favorites. Dribbling the length of the court, I went to work between our libero, a new girl who also happened to be named Alexis, and the corner of the gym.
"Did you get in trouble or something?" She glanced at me, the hint of a dimple in her dark cheek.
"No."
She had to jump to catch the ball she'd just nearly sent flying across the gym. "You mean he didn't yell at you for going full drama queen in the cafeteria at lunch today?"
"No." What was this girl's deal? I took a step toward the wall on my right. "We're not supposed to talk during drills."
She resumed setting against the wall. "So ... what happened between you and that Cal guy? Everyone says you were together forever and the perfect couple."
"Nothing." My sets grew more forceful. I'd be chasing the ball all the way back to the net if I wasn't careful. "We broke up. And we weren't the perfect couple."
"All the girls are fighting over who they think he's gonna date next." She switched from sets to passes without pausing. "It's a swoonfest in the locker room whenever you're not in there."
"Great." I couldn't seem to control the ball. My sets had me lunging from side to side like a seventh grader. Scottie would be seriously unhappy if I didn't get it together soon. Varsity starting setters should be able to set to an unmoving object — at the very least. "Tell those girls good luck. They can have him."
"Really?" Finished with her repetitions, she caught her ball. "He's freaking hot. And the quarterback of the football team."
Couldn't she just leave me be to finish out my drills? "So?"
"So?" Her dimple deepened into a grin. "So, I wanna know what's wrong with him. Must be something pretty juicy if you're tossing him and he's running after you like a whiny baby."
I surprised myself by laughing. This new girl was smart. And too observant. It was going to be hard to keep from liking her.
The novelty of that thought threw me off, and the ball slipped through my hands to bounce off my forehead. "Ow!"
"Sorry." Stifling a giggle, she stepped closer. "Then something really is wrong with him?"
"Very." I snorted.
"Good to know." Alexis Rios — I couldn't help wanting to call her Alexis The Other — turned and dribbled her ball a few steps toward the net before turning back to grin at me again. "Not that I thought he was all that, anyway."
CHAPTER 3The scent of stale coffee burnt my nostrils as I pushed open the door to my house. My father had probably left the little cup thingy in the coffee machine again. Gone before sunrise, he wouldn't be back until after I'd gone to bed. The Army had always gotten all his love — at least since we'd lost my mother.
I sighed. Dinner for one — again. I headed for the fridge and grabbed three tortillas and the shredded cheese. I flicked on one of the stove's gas burners and tossed a tortilla directly on the fire while I bypassed all our frying pans to dig my mom's old comal out of a cabinet. Zipping back to the oven, I flipped the first tortilla over, careful not to burn my fingers with the open flame. When that was done toasting, I popped the comal onto the same burner and slapped another tortilla onto it. I dumped some cheese on that, tipped a few spices into the cheese, and plopped the final tortilla on top. I grabbed some butter and slathered it on the already hot tortilla I'd put to the side and stuffed that in my face.
Heaven.
Nothing was better than a homemade tortilla — or one from the local tortillería — fresh from the fire and full of butter.
I flipped my quesadilla over and waited for the cheese to fully melt. Maybe I needed a vegetable or two to balance out all that fat. I sighed and grabbed a banana and a glass of water, all while fighting off a surge of self-pity. So what if my sad little dinner was lonely? It was still pretty delicious.
I placed my dishes in the sink, wiped off the table, and pulled my books and homework out of my book bag.
It was midnight before I got up again. I glanced at my phone. My father hadn't even texted to say when he was coming home. I flicked my message app open and typed,
Going to bed. When will you be home?
I didn't wait for his answer and tried to ignore the bitterness that always accompanied thoughts of my dad and his workaholic ways. It wasn't fair of me to hate him for his job. The guy was a patriot, and his life's work was protecting the free world. I was supposed to be proud, and I was — mostly. But his unit had been plagued with serious issues since they'd come home from Afghanistan the year before, so he was most likely handling whatever idiotic trouble some irresponsible soldier had landed himself in rather than doing anything actually noble. Still, it was expected that I be a resilient and supportive daughter, and I needed to remember to act like one.
The chime of a text sounded while I brushed my teeth. My heart beat a little quicker when I saw it was from my dad.
At least another hour. Sorry. Everything okay?
I fought the urge to type back, Like you care. At least he'd taken the time to acknowledge me. For once.
Yeah. Fine. Maybe see you tomorrow. Good night.
I slipped on my pajamas and climbed into bed without waiting for him to text back. It was amazing that he'd texted at all.
Not for the first time, I fell asleep wishing my mother was still alive.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Thriver"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Julia Joseph.
Excerpted by permission of The Wild Rose Press, Inc..
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