Out of Tune Read online

  The rain’s gotten even heavier, and it stings my hands. I sigh with relief when I step under my porch. It leaks a little, but it’s shelter, so I’m not complaining.

  I root through the front pocket of my satchel for my house key, and frown when my fingers can’t find it. I pull the bag open, holding it up near my face, and carry on rooting around, but I don’t hear the jangle of my keychains. It’s not there. My key isn’t there.

  I hastily check my wallet and pencil case in case I put it there by accident at some point, and dig a hand under my books, groping hopelessly for my key.

  It isn’t there.

  God. Just as this couldn’t have gotten any worse.

  I lean my head against the front door. I remember now: I left it on top of my math homework, on my desk. I’d purposely put it there to remind myself about the homework – which I still forgot about. We don’t keep a spare key outside anywhere. I step backwards, out of the protection of the porch and onto the lawn, craning my neck up. My hood falls down before I’m able to catch it, and I squint through the rain, trying to pull my hood back up even though my hair is already wet and sticking to my face and neck.

  I’ve managed to sneak out of the house before, and back in: I can just about climb up the tree in the back garden and onto the strip of roof around the middle of the house, and from there I can get to my window.

  But my window is not open and so that plan will not work.

  Of course. Mom always makes sure that she closes up all the windows and locks the front and back door whenever we leave the house. So it’s no use trying to get in around the back either.

  I stand there in the rain, shivering, and wonder what the hell I’m going to do.

  ‘Ashley! Hey!’

  I turn my head so sharply that a tendril of hair whips at my cheek and sticks there. Todd waves at me from his porch. He’s barefoot, hugging his arms around him now that he’s taken off his jacket and is only in a T-shirt and jeans.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he yells over to me.

  ‘Wondering how to break in,’ I shout back. ‘I forgot my key this morning.’

  ‘Come on.’ He waves, gesturing for me to go over there.

  ‘What, do you have a crowbar I can use to jiggle open the window in the dining room?’ I ask as I jog over.

  My pumps aren’t made for running on wet surfaces though, which doesn’t occur to me until my back smacks with a disgusting wet sound onto Todd’s muddy front lawn and the air is slammed out of my lungs. I groan.

  I hear a burst of laughter. Moaning, I sit up, and shake some of the mud from my right hand. Gross. I can feel it seeping through my damn jeans and my hair feels heavy with the stuff. I pull a face in disgust.

  Then Todd’s dashing out toward me, shoes halfway on his feet, helping me up regardless of the sludge on my hands. He ushers me into the house.

  ‘You really need a welcome mat,’ I say, and take my shoes off before I step into the hallway. I leave them outside because I don’t want to ruin the carpet, and they’re soaked anyway – they can’t get much wetter out on the porch.

  Todd drags me upstairs after him and then pushes me into the bathroom. There are men’s grooming products all over the place – razors and electric shavers and a tube of Crest, which has toothpaste all around the cap. Todd rinses his hands, muddy from helping me up, under the faucet quickly and wipes them dry on his jeans.

  ‘I’ll find you a towel and something dry to wear,’ he says. He takes my satchel from me, and then closes the door behind him.

  I sneeze.

  I stare at the closed door for a moment before my brain finally begins to process what to do next. I don’t exactly feel comfortable about taking a shower at Todd’s house. It’s kind of weird. But I look in the mirror and see that my hair is dripping mud and my clothes are stuck to me. So until my parents get home, it’s not like I have anywhere else to go. And I can hardly sit around Todd’s house like this – I mean, I’d ruin the couch.

  Stripping off my clothes and stepping into a hot shower, rinsing the rain and dirt from me, feels much better than I’d expected. I don’t want to stay there too long, but I lose track of time. There’s a bottle of shampoo on the side, so I borrow a little and clean my hair out thoroughly.

  I don’t know when I started singing, but at some point, I realize that I’m singing the way I always do in the shower, and I clamp my mouth shut in case Todd overhears.

  After that, I hastily rinse my hair and pull back the shower curtain. A towel is tucked just inside the door; I didn’t even hear the door open. And I’d forgotten to lock it.

  I dry myself off, and then . . .

  I can’t put my wet, muddy clothes back on. Even my bra is soaked.

  My underwear’s a little damp, but I don’t care. I put that back on. Then I secure the towel around me and push open the door only enough to poke my head out and peek around to see if Todd’s left any clothes in the hallway for me.

  He hasn’t.

  ‘Todd?’ I call out cautiously. No answer. Where the hell is he? I raise my voice a little more. ‘Todd?’

  ‘Just a sec!’

  I retreat back into the bathroom, and decide to start scrubbing the mud off my sweatshirt in the sink. The sound of the door opening again makes me jump about a foot in the air, and I drop the sweatshirt, clutching a hand to my chest to hold the towel in place.

  ‘Jeez, Todd, want to try knocking next time? You scared the hell out of me!’

  I shift uncomfortably, feeling very exposed in just this towel – which is very small, and only just about covers my boobs and butt at the same time. I put one arm around my chest and hold the towel secure. I feel like I may as well be naked.

  I hear a quiet chuckle, and settle for glaring at him.

  ‘Are you going to make seeing me in a towel a habit? I might have to get a restraining order if that’s the case.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think . . . I mean, when you yelled for me, I . . .’

  I raise my eyebrows at him, trying to use the glare to divert any attention from glancing downward. But then I realize that his eyes are anywhere but on me – the ceiling, the floor, the dripping faucet in the sink.

  ‘Here,’ he says, offering me some clothes. ‘They’ll probably be too big, but they’re the best I could do. If you hand me your clothes, I can throw them in the dryer for you, if you want?’

  I shake my head. ‘It’s okay. I can wash them when I finally get into my house. Do you have a plastic carrier or something I can put them in, though?’

  ‘Sure.’ Still not looking at me, he puts down the pile of clothes in his hands and takes the wet ones from me. I hug the clothes to my chest and he quickly backs out of the bathroom.

  I let out a long breath of air and shake my head, turning my attention to the clothes.

  He’s given me a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of jeans and a belt. I’m glad he thought to give me the belt – which is the kind you loop through a hook so there are no holes – because the jeans sag to my knees without them. I have to roll up the legs, and also the sleeves of the shirt. But I’m not complaining. This is better than nothing.

  I walk out of the bathroom, refreshed, and shout for Todd again.

  ‘In here.’

  His voice comes from the end of the hallway, from his bedroom. When I go in, he’s sitting cross-legged on his bed reading. I linger, hesitant, in the doorway.

  He looks up.

  And laughs.

  ‘What?’ I scowl. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You look ridiculous.’

  I roll my eyes, but can’t think of any sarcastic retort to snap at him. Exasperated, I purse my lips and turn away to look at his bookshelf, only half paying attention as I glance over the book titles he owns.

  ‘Thank you, by the way.’

  ‘I could hardly leave you standing out there in the rain like that.’

  ‘Yeah, but still . . . thanks,’ I mumble. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

&
nbsp; After a few seconds, Todd says, ‘Your hair’s red.’

  ‘No it’s not,’ I snap, looking over my shoulder to scowl at him and glare. ‘It’s not red. It’s auburn. It’s closer to brown than it is to red. I should know, I see it every day.’

  He shakes his head at me, unperturbed by my snappiness. ‘No it isn’t. It’s red. I’ve been trying to decide, because some days it looks brown, but more often than not it looks red.’

  ‘It’s the lighting.’

  ‘It’s your perspective,’ he shoots back.

  I grind my teeth, not sure how to reply. It would sound childish if I repeated him. So instead, I march up to him and lean close to his face. He leans back, looking a little worried, but I lean forward with him, scrutinizing his eyes. Today they look gray. But yesterday I was so sure they were blue.

  I sigh in defeat, and throw my hands up in the air. ‘What?’ he asks.

  ‘Your eyes. I can’t decide what color they are.’

  ‘I usually say that they’re blue, it’s easier.’

  ‘And I say that my hair is auburn, it’s easier,’ I retort.

  He shrugs. ‘That’s your choice. I was simply making a statement. I didn’t know you’d get so touchy about it.’

  I just shrug, then sit at the foot of the bed. I pick up a school textbook to move it out of the way; it’s poking into my knee. From the corner of my eye I see Todd sit up straighter, leaning forward. Then I see why – his blue book is under the book I just moved, right next to me.

  The book he keeps close to him all the time and never lets people see, with its faded midnight-blue cover made of leather. I pick the book up and see Todd’s body jerk reflexively, as though his nervous system is connected to this thing. I place the book in my lap, keeping my eyes on it rather than Todd; but I can see him in my peripheral vision. He looks ready to pounce.

  I trail my fingers over the cover. It has that strange softness to it that only leather has, and it’s heavy, weighted down by all the loose papers and Post-It notes tucked inside. A ribbon attached to the spine hangs out of the bottom of the book. It’s frayed. I wrap it around the tip of my index finger, and then hold the book firmly in both hands, bringing it up to my face. It smells faintly of leather, and of old paper. It’s a scent that reminds me of some of my dad’s old books from college.

  ‘So,’ I say. And I put the book on the bed between us, but closer to Todd. ‘Are you going to Hunter’s party on Friday?’

  A cautious and curious frown tugs at Todd’s dark eyebrows, and he cocks his head to the side slightly. The light throws shadows over his face from his sharp cheekbones. ‘I pour my entire heart and soul into that book. You don’t even try and take a look.’

  ‘You’re avoiding my question,’ I state simply.

  The truth is, I do want to look. I want to see the kind of things that Todd writes in this book, read and feel his emotions and thoughts and see his deepest, darkest ideas. I want to read the book. But he is too protective of it. It’s like when I found the Post-It note he dropped in Creative Writing.

  The answer I give him when he refuses to answer my question is, ‘You don’t want me to read it.’

  It’s true, but it’s not enough for him. ‘Care to expand on that?’

  I mull the words over in my head. ‘You’re . . . not weird, that’s the wrong word. Different. You’re different and I’m curious. Of course I want to see for myself what you’re hiding so badly. The fact that you’re so damn protective of that book makes me wonder even more what you don’t want anybody to see. But I’m not mean. I don’t really know you, but I know that that book means a lot to you.’

  He looks at me like he is studying me. His eyes have a calculated look about them, like they are trying to pick me apart.

  I don’t have anything to add, so I settle for staring right back at him instead.

  Finally, he says, ‘You aren’t mean, Ashley, not at all. Sarcastic, sure, but you aren’t mean.’

  ‘I try not to be. But I could’ve been nicer to you when I met you. I could’ve tried to introduce you to people at school. I—’

  ‘Just because you aren’t the most selfless person in the world doesn’t make you a mean person,’ he tells me. He picks up the book and holds it lightly in his lap.

  I don’t have a reply for that, so I settle for looking at my hands, which are folded in my lap now.

  A while later, Todd speaks again. ‘I got expelled from my last school.’

  My head whips up. ‘What?’

  He shrugs, a twisted smirk on his face as he leans back against the pillows and props his legs up in a triangle. ‘Not exactly like the rumors are saying, don’t worry. It was a boarding school, in Idaho,’ he adds as an afterthought. ‘After my granddad died, we got some money, and I knew he’d always wanted me to go to this boarding school, where my mom had gone. But I . . . I didn’t cope well, with him dying. I skipped a lot of classes, and my grades were abysmal. And I mean, it was a pretty prestigious sort of school, and they didn’t want me ruining their reputation with my bad grades and even worse attitude. They gave me a chance to clean up my act, but when I didn’t, they said I could finish up the semester and that I wouldn’t be coming back after that. I finished the year at a local high school, and then my dad got the job offer for here, so we moved.’

  I realize I’m gnawing on my lip as he tells his story, and I stop.

  ‘After I got kicked out of boarding school, my dad was furious. Said I was risking my entire future. I want to get into a good college, really I do. And I’m willing to bust my ass to get the grades I need. Getting expelled was the reality check I needed, you know?’

  ‘Josh could do with one of those,’ I mutter. ‘The reality check, I mean. He barely gets a B average, and I keep telling him he could get better grades if he worked harder, but he doesn’t listen. He acts like he doesn’t care when he fails a test, but then he’ll sulk like a little kid outside of school.’

  Todd nods, and I notice that his left hand is balled into a fist, resting on his thigh, and his breathing is shallow, like he’s upset. I’m not even sure he just heard what I said about Josh. I start to reach out to touch his knee, but my hand hesitates midair and I let it drop back onto my lap.

  ‘Why are you telling me this, anyway?’ I ask him quietly, when he doesn’t say anything more.

  He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I . . . I don’t find it . . . easy . . . to trust people. I believed you when you said you didn’t read that Post-It note. You didn’t even try to look at my book and read it.’ He chews on his lower lip, frowning, and his eyes look up at me from under all that hair flopping over his forehead. ‘I don’t know.’

  I give a small smile. ‘I won’t tell anybody. The truth, I mean, not if you don’t want me to. They can go on believing all those wild rumors about you. Like that you blew up a science lab, or whatever it was.’

  ‘I know you won’t. That’s not the point.’ He puts his legs down and shifts his position.

  ‘Then . . . what is the point, exactly?’

  Todd opens his mouth, then closes it, and frowns again. The scrape of pages makes me look at the book in his lap. He’s flicking through it. The writing is loopy and slanted on the page.

  ‘That one, right there.’ As he hands the book to me, he taps a finger on a torn piece of green paper about the size of the palm of my hand, stapled to the top of a page. Wary, I take it.

  They say the truth will set you free

  That the lies will drive you crazy

  Well, truth be told, I don’t care for either

  I’m not looking, I’ve no desire to see

  What this crazy little world’s hiding from me

  Keep your truths and I’ll keep mine

  We’ll get along just fine

  Keep your mouth shut

  And your head down low

  In our sick little world of lies

  There are a few letters scribbled on the side. I point to them. ‘What are they?’

  ‘Chords,
’ he says, taking the book back from me and closing it. ‘I never bothered to finish it. I tend to do that a lot – write half a song and leave it at that.’

  I don’t ask him why he showed me this particular song, but I let it sink in. I swallow, and say, ‘You never answered my question about Hunter’s party.’

  ‘Well, damn, I thought I’d done a pretty good job of distracting you from that.’ He sighs exaggeratedly in defeat, which makes me laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m going. Some guys in my class were talking about it earlier and said I should go, so now I am. I’m not usually one for parties, but what the hell, right?’

  ‘He threw a couple of parties over the summer. They were pretty good.’

  ‘Cool. I’m just going to get a drink, do you want anything?’

  ‘No, I’m good. Thanks.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ He leaves the book on the bed where he was sitting, and I don’t touch it. I know I didn’t want to ‘buddy-up’ with this guy purely on principle, but I misjudged him. And, hell, I’ll admit it: I’m curious about him. And even though I know Josh is a bit wary (and I think probably a bit jealous) about me hanging out with Todd even just a little bit, I don’t care. I really don’t care.

  Chapter Six

  Josh’s hands slip around my waist from behind and he kisses the side of my neck.

  I’m surprised to see him here, but smile at him in the mirror we’re facing and say, ‘I thought I was picking you up from your house? Did you drive here?’

  ‘My parents dropped me off on their way to the grocery store. Your mom sent me up to wait while you finish getting ready.’ He kisses my neck again softly.

  ‘Careful,’ I say, moving the hair-straighteners away from my head so that I don’t burn either of us. I set them down on the heat-proof mat and turn around to slip my arms around Josh’s neck.

  ‘You look good,’ I tell him. He does, in the white shirt that sets off the tan he got in Cancun when he went at the end of summer, and the dark-wash jeans slung low on his hips, held up by the tan leather belt I bought him last Christmas.

  ‘So do you.’