6 Chapter 6 等候接听

Simon crossed the parking lot with a spring in his step. He told himself to knock it off, that one batting lesson didn't mean anything.

Especially not with Rose Caulders.

But he kept thinking of the feel of her hands under his, of the way her shoulders fit perfectly within the circle of his arms, of the smell of her skin. He found himself wondering what other things would feel like. Holding her hand. Touching her hair.

Kissing her?

Stop it. You're an idiot.

But the curve of her neck had been right there. She hadn't flinched from his touch. Really, if you took away the baseball bat, the way he'd been holding her had been pretty damn intimate. When he inhaled, he could almost still smell her.

Stop it!

He'd already told her too much. How baseball let him clear his mind and focus on something not related to his element. How he worried every day would end with a loss of control—like Friday. How badly he wanted to leave town. He could have kicked himself for revealing that one.

But then she'd talked about her parents' fighting. How sometimes she didn't care about making it in New York; it was just a new place, a new beginning. She told him how she was sick of every day being focused on hate. And for the first time, he let himself start to wonder if this deal could work out.

She'd left ten minutes ago, after he'd told her to go so they wouldn't be seen walking out together. He'd killed ten minutes burning through his last token, remembering the feel of her body with every swing he took. Dad's truck sat alone at the back of the parking lot, dark in the shade of an old elm tree. Simon had the keys in his hand and a bemused smile he couldn't get off his face. He didn't even hear the attackers until his head was slamming into the concrete.

They were all on him at once. He couldn't even get a handle on how many guys had tackled him. One had come from the bed of the truck. They had the chain Dad kept back there to tie down loose loads, and they had it against his throat, pinning him to the parking lot. Someone else trapped an arm, kneeling on his wrist, grinding his skin into the pavement.

And then, just as he registered the blond hair, someone punched him in the face. A good, solid punch, with power behind it. He saw stars for a second, long enough for them to pin his other arm. He struggled, but he had no leverage.

"Hey, asshole."

Tyler. He'd swung the first punch—and he did it again.

Simon coughed against the chain on his throat. He gritted his teeth. He could pull power from the earth and throw them off, but he doubted they'd give him a free pass like Rose had.

Keep it together.

God, he'd been stupid. Every time he came here, he checked the store, and every time he left, he checked the truck. Every time, ready for an ambush. Until today.

Tyler hit him again. Simon tasted blood.

Keep. It. Together.

"Do it," said Tyler. "You know you want to."

Someone kicked him in the side, and Simon redoubled his struggles. They were too heavy. He couldn't get loose.

They kicked him again.

Power rushed through the ground, coming to his aid without his asking. He forced it back. He could take a few punches.

Tyler laughed and spit in his face. "Good thing Rose told us where to find you. I didn't think we'd have this much fun all summer."

Simon froze. Tonight at the batting cages—had she been stalling him? You going to show me again or what?

He coughed. "Go to hell, Tyler."

"Funny you should mention hell." Tyler held up a butane lighter. "Since I brought the fire."

Then he clicked the trigger. Flame burst from the end.

Simon tried to recoil. He only succeeded in slamming his head against the concrete again. He was straining against the chain so hard that he almost couldn't breathe.

Flame lit Tyler's features. He brought the lighter close to Simon's face, until the heat was painful.

Simon strained away. He had no idea if Tyler would really burn him, but flame against his skin would definitely push his control past the brink.

"Do it," said Tyler. He leaned closer, until Simon wanted to clench his eyes shut. "Do it."

Simon prayed for another customer to arrive. But he knew how dead this place was.

Tyler put the flame against the chain. It seared right through the metal. "First we're going to burn you, and then we're going to burn your little brothers."

The pavement cracked and split. Simon surged against their hands. He slammed someone into the concrete before he could stop himself. The chain went flying. But then he heard someone yelling. The guys. They were scattering, stumbling away from him, tripping on the loose pavement.

No, not stumbling away from him. Away from the girl with the steel bar in her hands.

Rose, with a putter.

"Dad is going to kill you," said Tyler. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Simon," she called. "Can you drive?"

It took Simon a second to get it together, but then he realized his keys were on the pavement, where he'd dropped them by the door. His joints didn't want to work, but he was able to get the keys into his palm. "Yeah." Stars still danced in his vision. "I think."

And then he must have been losing time, because he was starting the ignition of the truck, and Rose was in the passenger seat beside him. He took a deep breath, and it seemed they were pulling onto Mountain Road, leaving the sports center behind. He rubbed at his eye, surprised when his hand came away with blood. "I should have said no," he said.

She gave him a concerned glance. "What?"

He winced, and suddenly there were two roads in front of him. "I shouldn't be driving."

She unclicked her seat belt and knelt up on the passenger seat, leaning across to brace a hand on his shoulder. It was almost enough to make him hit the guardrail. "What are you doing?"

"Keep your eyes on the road."

"Did you set me up?"

"Shhh. Drive." She leaned in close and blew on his neck.

No, that was almost enough to make him hit the guardrail. He pushed her away. "Stop. Tell me the truth. Did you—"

"No. I didn't. Let me help you." She shoved his hand out of the way and knelt up again.

Her breath on his skin felt awful and amazing at the same time. He fought not to make a sound.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wish I had more power."

"No," he ground out. "You don't."

"I saw their car," she said. "Around the corner. Tyler and my dad have been talking about staking out the sports center all week—"

"Thanks for the heads-up."

"I never thought they'd really do it."

He gave a humorless laugh. "Of course not."

She fell silent for a while, and all he heard was her breath whispering along his skin. Too much had happened in a short span of time. Part of him wanted to push her away again, but a bigger part wanted to pull her closer and beg her to say she was on his side, that she'd had no part in this.

Finally, he couldn't take the silence anymore, and he needed a destination. He couldn't go home, not with her in the truck, and he sure as hell wasn't driving to her house. "Where am I driving?"

"Go to the quarry."

His head had cleared enough for him to look away from the road. "The quarry?"

"There's lots of exposed rock. That'll help you, right?"

"Yeah, but there will be other people there." Given this heat, probably half the senior class would have snuck in to go swimming.

"Don't worry. I know a hidden path down to the water. We can stay out of sight."

"Why are you helping me?"

She didn't say anything for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "For years, I've been hearing how dangerous you are. How we shouldn't have made this deal, because you're out of control, that you're mean, that you'll hurt us if we get close to you."

Simon snorted. "I've been hearing the same thing."

"But you're not! All week, you've been nothing but nice—"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"—when I keep hearing my father talk about how they should just take care of the problem themselves. And then Tyler does this ... this horrible thing, when you didn't even provoke it. I don't think you're dangerous at all."

Simon didn't say anything. They came to the turnoff for the one-lane road that ran behind the quarry, and he hit the turn signal.

"Even tonight," she said. "You didn't kill them, and I know you could have. On Friday, you could have hurt me, and you didn't. I've heard the way you talk about your brothers. I know you care about your family. I told you already—I'm sick of living with all this hate. But I've been blaming you, when I should have been blaming them."

He pulled the truck onto the gravel shoulder when there was space and killed the engine. Suddenly, the car was only full of the sound of their breathing.

"Please," she said. "Say something."

He looked over at her. "I wanted to kill them."

Her breath hitched, but he wasn't done.

"All of them," he said. "Including your brother."

"But you didn't."

He held her eyes. "If he'd kept up with that lighter, I might have."

She swallowed, but nodded.

She looked so tiny in the front seat of his father's work truck. Simon couldn't believe she'd faced down her brother and his friends with a putter. "Are you still afraid of me?"

She shook her head.

"Good." And he leaned over and kissed her.

等候接听

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