Iris Boys Box Set Page 3

  We both sat at the end of the table farthest from the window. I focused on him instead – and my confusion.

  "Where's Principal Buchanan?" I asked.

  Instead of answering, he simply smiled and sat back. I didn't recognize him as anyone I knew from the school – a teacher, one of the many assistant vice principals, or counselors. Even if I had, he didn't look old enough to be in any of those positions. He didn't look the type to be hired on at a high school either. His hair might have been shoulder length, but I couldn't tell because he had it all pulled back in a ponytail. It left his entire face on display, the width of his jaw line, the frame of his cheeks. I imagined that he was of Native American heritage with those high sharp cheekbones.

  "Ms. Hampton," he began, "you don't know me, but my name is Bellamy Woodstone." He paused, his eyes zeroing in on my arm. I looked down, groaning inwardly at the huge purple bruise the size of a child's hand peeking out from my t-shirt sleeve. It must have come from the ditch this morning. My eyes drooped at the reminder of my lack of sleep. I reached up, tugging my sleeve a little lower.

  "Okay?" I blinked, waiting. "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Woodstone?"

  His eyes refocused onto my face. "You can call me Bellamy," he said. "I'd like to call you Harlow, if that's alright with you?" I nodded and was rewarded with another dazzling smile. "Wonderful. Now, I'm sure you're wondering why you've been called down here – I can assure you, you're not in any trouble."

  "Then why–"

  "Because I needed to speak with you alone about the options for your future." He reached back, towards the table, picking up a manila folder I hadn't seen before.

  "According to your guidance counselor here, your GPA is almost a 4.0, correct?"

  "It's a 3.7," I said. Confusion rolled through my mind. "Is that what you called me down here to talk about? Reaching a 4.0?" I had been trying, but between the diner and my mom, studying had taken a backseat.

  He glanced up from the folder. "No, a 3.7 is actually quite high, much higher than most of your peers. You're in the top fifteen percent of your class, if not the top ten percent. No, I called you down here to discuss why you haven't applied to a college. With your grades, you are almost guaranteed at least some financial aid or academic scholarships." He flipped a page. "And I see that you actually won some school wide awards on writing – so the entrance essays shouldn't have been a problem. Your transcripts reflect nothing more than detentions every now and then. What were those detentions for?" He looked up from his folder, those severe, almond eyes watching me.

  "I, um...they were for sleeping in class," I said, staring at my lap.

  "Hmmm." He didn't sound upset as he continued to flip through my file. "Why did you stop gymnastics?" My head snapped up.

  "I haven't done gymnastics in years," I replied. "That's still in there?"

  He smiled conspiratorially. "This is my own personal file of you. Some of this came from your high school transcripts, but for the group I represent and what we would like to ask of you, we decided to go much further back."

  "Are you a college recruiter?" It was the only explanation that made sense. What could someone else want with me?

  "Well," he tilted his head to the side, "you could say that I am a recruiter of sorts, but you still didn't answer my question."

  "I lost interest," I said, a complete and utter lie. I had loved gymnastics, but it had been around the time my brother had gone away to college and I had to choose between gymnastics or a job. I had chosen the job.

  "Hmmm," he said again.

  "If you're not a college recruiter, who are you?"

  "I never said I wasn't a college recruiter," he replied easily. "Perhaps I am your ticket into college. Would you be willing to answer a few questions for me, if that were the case?"

  "Even if you are," I replied, "it's too late in the year for me to get into college. I graduate in two weeks. I'll have to wait for the Spring semester." If I could even afford it then.

  "What would it hurt to answer a few of my questions?" He closed the folder and set it aside before folding his hands over his lap.

  I fidgeted. "I guess it's fine. I mean, I don't have anything to hide."

  Did only people who actually had something to hide say that? I asked myself. It wasn't like I was hiding anything, I just wasn't too keen on telling people things, especially about my mom.

  "We'll start with the real reason that you quit gymnastics. You had quite a few awards. Only the dedicated go all the way to the state championships."

  "I didn't win."

  He waved his hand. "Whether you won or not doesn't matter. What does matter is that you were good enough. You could have tried for nationals the next year, but you didn't."

  I shrugged. I didn't know what he wanted me to say.

  “Alright, then, what about college? Do you want to go to college?"

  "I don't know." I paused, the words to explain flickering through my mind. "It might not be possible for me right now."

  "You're not sure if you want to go to college?"

  I tried to be as honest as possible. "College sounds interesting, but I don't know what I would want to study and it's kind of a moot point right now. The deadlines have passed."

  "What if it wasn't a moot point?"

  "I'm pretty sure it is."

  Bellamy closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. After a moment, he reopened his eyes and leaned forward, his torso straining under the light blue and white checkered dress shirt.

  "Do you want to know what I think?" He didn't even wait for me to respond. "I think that you have the whole world in front of you, but you aren't sure what to do with it. From what I've been told, you're a brave girl, capable of doing brave things."

  "What have you heard?" I narrowed my gaze at him.

  Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket and removed a black card. I took it from him. On the back, in silver lettering, was a phone number, and on the front was a name scribbled out in fancy cursive writing.

  “Iris?” I read aloud. Arching my brows, I carefully put the card on the conference table between us. He smiled as though he had expected my reaction.

  "It's not going to bite you," he teased.

  I pursed my lips and frowned. "You never said what you wanted to ask me or what you're here for."

  "I'm here because I'm interested in a girl that would risk her life for an animal. I'm interested in knowing why a candidate for the gymnastics state championships quit when she could have been ready for the Olympics in another ten years. I want to find out what makes her tick."

  When my mouth sagged open in shock, Bellamy grinned. He stood and straightened the lapels of his suit jacket. Though he looked perfectly at home in the suit, the length of his hair and the slight smudge under his chin – something I noticed only now that he was towering over me – told me he wasn't as business oriented as his surface appearance made him seem.

  "How did you–"

  "Ms. Hampton," he interrupted, reverting back to my last name. "I hope I've intrigued you." He braced a wide palm on the table and leaned over me. His breath ruffled my hair. "I suggest when you get tired of saving kittens, you give us a call."

  "W-what?" I trembled as my heart raced. Not for a second did I think he hadn't noticed.

  "That number will reach someone on my team at all hours." He stood straight and strode to the door. "I look forward to hearing from you."

  When the door closed behind him, I half expected someone to pop out from under the table and yell, "Surprise!" Was this a joke? I held my breath. Minutes passed and another bell rang over the school’s loudspeakers, letting me know that I'd missed a full period of class. I stood and made my way into the office hallway. Mrs. Donovan smiled at me again as I passed.

  "How'd it go, Dear?"

  I blinked at her. "Uh, fine," I said.

  "Well, then, you best be getting to your next class."

  I nodded once, before stuffing the black business
card into my back pocket. For the rest of the day, that card burned a hole through both my jeans and my mind. I contemplated calling and also just throwing the damn thing away. To be honest, it all felt like a very elaborately played prank. But how had he known about Cleo? Did he know the guys from the diner? Was I being stalked?

  That particular thought came to me as I climbed into my regular bus and found a seat to crash in on the ride home. My head turned, watching. Students filtered onto the bus en masse just before we rolled out of the school's bus lot. No one appeared to pay me much attention. Several students, that usually sat in the back with me, joked and laughed, getting quieter as more people exited at their designated stops. Erika waved from a window seat in the middle. I waved back and watched as she edged out of her seat and slunk back towards me. I raised my legs and let her scoot past to sit next to the window.

  "Ugh," she groaned. "I'm so tired." She leaned against the glass and closed her eyes. I nudged her to keep her awake and she grunted, slapping a hand out at me with her ten and counting bracelets dangling on her arm.

  "Go away," she mumbled.

  "Can't," I teased. "There's nowhere else for me to sit." Her eyes opened just a smidge.

  "I should kick you to curb, you know. Then I'd have more time to spend with my new boyfriend."

  "You got a boyfriend?"

  "Mmmhmm." Her eyes sparkled with mischief and I pursed my lips.

  "I have a favor to ask." I needed to ask now before I chickened out and decided not to go.

  "I'm not going to hide your illegitimate child. No one would believe it was mine anyway." True, we looked too different for anyone to mistake us even for sisters. While I had dozens of freckles across the bridge of my nose and across my cheeks and particularly dark eyes, her skin was smooth and unblemished and her eyes were a brilliant blue.

  "You're in luck, I'm not pregnant," I replied. "It has to do with graduation. Are you walking?"

  She groaned and sat up. "Why are we even friends?" she complained. "You never let me sleep. Yeah, I'm walking at graduation. Are you?"

  "Maybe," I hinted. "If you could give me a ride."

  Her eyes widened. "I thought you were saving up money to buy your neighbors old clunker." I winced, thinking of why that was no longer an option. I hadn’t told Erika that Mom had found my cash stash or where and how she had spent it.

  "She decided to keep it," I lied. "Can you give me a ride?"

  "I guess," she replied. "My dad and I can pick you up. Is your mom coming?"

  "I don't know yet. Probably not, though. If she did, would it be a problem?"

  "No problem," she said. "But we'd all have to squeeze into the truck. My parents sold their sedan because they figured my dad could just drop my mom off at work and they would invest the money or something like that."

  "Is she going to be at graduation?" Erika's mom was an airplane flight attendant. She spent several days – sometimes up to two weeks – flying across the country before she got downtime. According to Erika, the pay was good and she got benefits as well as free flights. It was Erika's dream job and she was going straight to the academy after high school.

  "No, she's got to work and because she took off for my eighteenth birthday, they aren't letting her get out of this one. She feels bad, but I don't mind. We'll plan better for when I get out of the travel academy or college. I’ve applied to both, but haven’t decided yet."

  "Oh?" I nodded my head as she began talking about her summer plans and all the places she would see if she got a job as a travel attendant. When we pulled up to her stop, she hugged me tight before squeezing out into the aisle.

  "I'll talk to you more tomorrow, Harlow!"

  I watched and smiled as Erika waved, bouncing off the bus with her hair swaying behind her. We had been talking about graduation for so long, I forgot to ask her about her new boyfriend. When the bus stopped at the end of my street several minutes later, I squeezed through the last of the students to get off, thanking Mr. Jon, the bus driver, and waving goodbye as I did. The walk through my neighborhood was easier during warm days.

  During the winter, when I had walked back from work and it was still dark out, my imagination had driven me to picture shadows behind every brick or yellow, panel-covered building. There were approximately thirty houses on the street, ending at a cul-de-sac with my house just before that little half circle. The neighbors were older and quiet, and they kept to themselves for the most part.

  As I approached my front door, a white paper fluttered under the welcome mat. I untucked it and read through the note with a sigh. The older neighbor who regularly took my mom to her doctor appointments had left a reminder that she would be by next Sunday to pick my mom up and that her grandchildren would need a babysitter that day since they would both be at the hospital for at least a few hours. I would have to ask if Joanna or one of the other servers could trade shifts with me since I was already scheduled to work.

  "Mom, I'm home," I called out as I shut the door behind me. Softly clicking nails warned me of Cleo's approach. A gray and black bundle of fur attacked my feet, spinning circles around each limb.

  "Where have you been?!" My mom's high-pitched screech had my shoulders slumping as I marched past Cleo towards the hallway. I arrived at the door of her bedroom and hesitated.

  "I've been at school; did you have a good day?" Looking at the disastrous room, the clothes streaming from the closet, littering the floor, I knew the answer. My mom sat like a pale, regal queen on her pillows and blankets, her eyeglasses perched on her nose as she stared over the mound of random objects pulled from throughout the house that cluttered in a circle around her. She wore a light-pink scarf tied around her brittle and quickly thinning gray hair.

  "How can anyone have a good day when I've been home all day, in this mess, while you've been out doing whatever it is you teenagers do? Now, tell me the truth, where have you been?"

  I sighed, wading my way through the overturned boxes. "Did you eat anything today?" I asked. She waved her hand at me, eyes unfocused.

  "As if you care!" I spied the half-eaten sandwich on her bed that I had left her this morning. At least she had tried it. "Where were you?"

  "At school," I repeated, bending down to help her to her feet. I guided her over to her bed and pushed her knickknacks to the floor. I would have to clean up when I got home from work later.

  "I don't know why you lie to me," she grumbled. "You're just like your brother."

  I ducked out of the room and ran for a fresh glass of water, replacing it for the empty one on her nightstand. A quick glance at the old, grandfather clock at the end of the hall told me I needed to hurry and get ready for work.

  "I'm sorry, Mom," I said. "I promise I'll clean up when I get back from work." I headed for my room in a hurry, stripping off my shirt as I went. I listened to her as she fumbled to get out of the bed.

  "Don't you turn away from me, young lady!" Her footsteps shuffled over the various shirts and pants before her feet slapped on the wooden, hallway floor.

  My room held nothing but a few mixed furniture pieces that I had owned since before I hit puberty. A double bed took up most of the room, my newest accessory, with the mattress sagging in the middle. I stepped around it, stripping out of the rest of my school clothes. A dull, pink and gray dresser was shoved up against the wall next to the doorway with books and papers strewn across the surface. I reached inside one drawer, looking for the apron I knew I had just washed the day before.

  The books were old, library-owned hardbacks that had been given away at the end of the year to make room for newer editions. I was lucky enough to have grabbed some of the better, well-kept volumes. The papers ranged from old bills to school supplies. I found a scrunchie and tugged it over my wrist before I finally managed to find my apron.

  The same uniform I had on that morning was slung across the back of a chair sitting at the corner of my bed in front of my closet. I ignored it because it was stained with dirt and mud from this morning
’s adventures. Pulling my only extra uniform from my closet, I yanked the dress over my head, doing up the buttons on the front before grabbing my purse and shoving my apron inside.

  "Did you hear me?" Mom stopped at my bedroom door, her small, feeble body blocking my exit. I looked down at her. I wanted to wait until she moved, but I just didn't have the time.

  "Yes ma'am," I said. "And I would love to stay, but I really do have to get moving or I'm going to be late." Placing my hands on her shoulders, I gently urged her to the side. She slapped my hands away.

  "Don't touch me," she snapped. "Answer my question. Where have you been?"

  "Mom," I said, crouching down to tie my non-slip sneakers. "I don't know what you want me to say. I did answer you. I've been at school all day and I can't stay. I just came home to get changed and make you something to eat." I moved towards the kitchen.

  "I haven't seen you since yesterday, Harlow Nicole Hampton. School is not an overnight event."

  She stood in the doorway as I pilfered through our nearly empty fridge and came up with a small styrofoam cup filled with soup from the diner. I stuffed it in our microwave, pressing buttons to heat it up before I sighed and steeled myself against my mom's wrath. She stood, her pale face flushed in anger, arms crossed. My limbs seemed to sink even more, their weight increasing as I stood beneath her glare. My lack of sleep built rocks on my eyelids until I leaned back and let them close with a sigh.

  "Work ran late again last night," I said slowly. "I came home this morning and set up a snack for you on your nightstand next to your meds." I opened my eyes. "Did you take them?"

  "What I do with myself is none of your business." She inhaled, her eyes going wide and wild. "I have had more than enough of you sneaking out at night to go wherever you please. No more excuses, I'm tired of your lying."

  She stepped forward as the microwave beeped, but I ignored it, remaining still as though she were a hungry animal waiting to pounce. "You will clean this house spotless and you will remain in your room until I say you are allowed to leave. Is that understood?"