Crash (Crash 1)

She set her tea down, reaching for her temples. This was the first time mom had lowered her walls in ages; I didn’t know how to handle it.

“Have you heard back from Juilliard yet?” she asked, sounding weary.

I sighed, wishing I’d never applied in the first place. My self-confidence really didn’t need any more rejection. “Nope,” I said, trying to make it sound like I didn’t care, but darn it, I did.

I’d wanted to attend Juilliard before I could spell it. I was a dancer, it had defined my life since I could slip into my own tutu. I couldn’t imagine a better life than dancing across a stage in front of an audience until old age or weary legs stopped me, and Juilliard would give me that opportunity.

“It’s still early, Lucy,” she reassured, seeing right through my blasé act.

I lifted a shoulder. “We’ll see.” I’d applied to a few other state schools as a safety net, but they were just that. Only set to catch me if I failed at my goal.

Having had enough heart to heart for one day, I turned towards the stairs.

“Lucy?” I paused on the first stair, looking back. Mom was gazing at where my chopped hair curled over my shoulders. “How are you?”

After five years, she had to work harder than a cup of over-brewed tea and a few marginally concerned questions to earn the honest answer to that one. “Good,” I said, meeting her eyes.

“Really?”

Of course not really. I’d lost my entire family in the span of a day and had never gotten them back. And that was just the first link in the chain. “Really.” I moved up the stairs faster, but not quite fast enough.

“You know, Lucy, if you ever needed someone to talk to,” Mom’s voice trailed up the stairs, “I know I’d likely be dead last on that list, but I am here if you need me.”

I couldn’t have been more shocked if I’d looked down to find my legs had transformed into a mermaid tail.

“Uh,” I sputtered, searching for the right words. “Thanks, mom.” There, that worked.

Before any other transaction of the otherworldly could take place, I sprinted up the rest of the stairs and slid under my covers until I was dreaming about a boy with beautiful eyes and an ugly past.

Walking through the metal detectors on the second day seemed less outlandish, and the student’s stares that fell on me turned to smiles; a few even waved. By the end of first period, I was wondering if this was the same student body. Everyone greeted me in the halls, five people offered to let me borrow a pen in Trig when I asked, and one of Taylor’s apostles complimented me on my outfit choice. It was such a one-eighty from yesterday that either the entire student body had been lobotomized or Jude was a powerful player at Southpointe. A very powerful player.

I had my answer at the end of third period when I caught a glimpse of Jude walking down the hall a ways in front of me. The hall was packed, shoulder to shoulder, but wherever he walked, the crowd parted, like water breaking against an island.

I was so hypnotized watching him part the seas, I didn’t notice when a certain someone I’d been trying to avoid all morning nudged up against me.

“Hey, beautiful,” Sawyer said, tossing me a wink.

Oh, man. Did guys still get laid with this tired old line? If so, I’d bitch slap every last girl that fell for this one until I knocked some sense into them.

“Sawyer?” I said, glancing over. His high beam smile peaked higher. “Retire that line, will ya? It sucks.”

His face fell for the shortest window before it was back in all its Sawyer glory. “That was some assembly yesterday. Bound to go down in Southpointe history for sure,” he said, keeping pace with me as I sped up. I knew guys like Sawyer—they’d been a dime a dozen at my old school—and what didn’t work for me was that they were more boys than men, more talk than action. I was a man of action kind of girl.

“Yep, the trombone solo really kicked ass,” I said, playing dumb because I didn’t care and it was more fun.

Sawyer paused. I could see him scratching his internal head. “So you and Ryder, huh?”

Sawyer had bigger balls than I’d given him credit for. He was the first one to suggest Jude and I were an item in my presence. Gutsy given yesterday’s death threats. “We’re friends,” I said, trying to put some air between us so his shoulder wasn’t stroking mine every step.

“Friends?” he said. “Looked like more than that. It looked like something.”

I bit my lip before saying the first thing that came to mind. Just because I had a tendency towards anger didn’t mean I had to let my temper rule my life, although now was one of those moments I wished I’d let it off its leash.

“It’s nothing,” I said, ducking between a few students to get to my locker.

Sawyer glided up beside me. “Good,” he said, leaning into the next locker over. “That will make things easier when I take you to Homecoming.”

I don’t know how many revolutions I spun the combo on my locker, but it was more than ten and less than a hundred. The only thing worse than not having a date for homecoming would be having Sawyer as a date. He was the kind of guy that rented a hotel room before picking out a corsage and equated a lobster dinner with an all night sexathon.

“Let’s say I pick you up at eight?”

I didn’t know what day homecoming was, but I did know I didn’t want to go with him. I knew what I wanted to say to him in not so lady like language, but I didn’t know how to put my denial nicely. Couth had never been a strong suit of mine.

et her tea down, reaching for her temples. This was the first time mom had lowered her walls in ages; I didn’t know how to handle it.

“Have you heard back from Juilliard yet?” she asked, sounding weary.

I sighed, wishing I’d never applied in the first place. My self-confidence really didn’t need any more rejection. “Nope,” I said, trying to make it sound like I didn’t care, but darn it, I did.

I’d wanted to attend Juilliard before I could spell it. I was a dancer, it had defined my life since I could slip into my own tutu. I couldn’t imagine a better life than dancing across a stage in front of an audience until old age or weary legs stopped me, and Juilliard would give me that opportunity.

“It’s still early, Lucy,” she reassured, seeing right through my blasé act.

I lifted a shoulder. “We’ll see.” I’d applied to a few other state schools as a safety net, but they were just that. Only set to catch me if I failed at my goal.

Having had enough heart to heart for one day, I turned towards the stairs.

“Lucy?” I paused on the first stair, looking back. Mom was gazing at where my chopped hair curled over my shoulders. “How are you?”

After five years, she had to work harder than a cup of over-brewed tea and a few marginally concerned questions to earn the honest answer to that one. “Good,” I said, meeting her eyes.

“Really?”

Of course not really. I’d lost my entire family in the span of a day and had never gotten them back. And that was just the first link in the chain. “Really.” I moved up the stairs faster, but not quite fast enough.

“You know, Lucy, if you ever needed someone to talk to,” Mom’s voice trailed up the stairs, “I know I’d likely be dead last on that list, but I am here if you need me.”

I couldn’t have been more shocked if I’d looked down to find my legs had transformed into a mermaid tail.

“Uh,” I sputtered, searching for the right words. “Thanks, mom.” There, that worked.

Before any other transaction of the otherworldly could take place, I sprinted up the rest of the stairs and slid under my covers until I was dreaming about a boy with beautiful eyes and an ugly past.

Walking through the metal detectors on the second day seemed less outlandish, and the student’s stares that fell on me turned to smiles; a few even waved. By the end of first period, I was wondering if this was the same student body. Everyone greeted me in the halls, five people offered to let me borrow a pen in Trig when I asked, and one of Taylor’s apostles complimented me on my outfit choice. It was such a one-eighty from yesterday that either the entire student body had been lobotomized or Jude was a powerful player at Southpointe. A very powerful player.

I had my answer at the end of third period when I caught a glimpse of Jude walking down the hall a ways in front of me. The hall was packed, shoulder to shoulder, but wherever he walked, the crowd parted, like water breaking against an island.

I was so hypnotized watching him part the seas, I didn’t notice when a certain someone I’d been trying to avoid all morning nudged up against me.

“Hey, beautiful,” Sawyer said, tossing me a wink.

Oh, man. Did guys still get laid with this tired old line? If so, I’d bitch slap every last girl that fell for this one until I knocked some sense into them.

“Sawyer?” I said, glancing over. His high beam smile peaked higher. “Retire that line, will ya? It sucks.”

His face fell for the shortest window before it was back in all its Sawyer glory. “That was some assembly yesterday. Bound to go down in Southpointe history for sure,” he said, keeping pace with me as I sped up. I knew guys like Sawyer—they’d been a dime a dozen at my old school—and what didn’t work for me was that they were more boys than men, more talk than action. I was a man of action kind of girl.

“Yep, the trombone solo really kicked ass,” I said, playing dumb because I didn’t care and it was more fun.

Sawyer paused. I could see him scratching his internal head. “So you and Ryder, huh?”

Sawyer had bigger balls than I’d given him credit for. He was the first one to suggest Jude and I were an item in my presence. Gutsy given yesterday’s death threats. “We’re friends,” I said, trying to put some air between us so his shoulder wasn’t stroking mine every step.

“Friends?” he said. “Looked like more than that. It looked like something.”

I bit my lip before saying the first thing that came to mind. Just because I had a tendency towards anger didn’t mean I had to let my temper rule my life, although now was one of those moments I wished I’d let it off its leash.

“It’s nothing,” I said, ducking between a few students to get to my locker.

Sawyer glided up beside me. “Good,” he said, leaning into the next locker over. “That will make things easier when I take you to Homecoming.”

I don’t know how many revolutions I spun the combo on my locker, but it was more than ten and less than a hundred. The only thing worse than not having a date for homecoming would be having Sawyer as a date. He was the kind of guy that rented a hotel room before picking out a corsage and equated a lobster dinner with an all night sexathon.

“Let’s say I pick you up at eight?”

I didn’t know what day homecoming was, but I did know I didn’t want to go with him. I knew what I wanted to say to him in not so lady like language, but I didn’t know how to put my denial nicely. Couth had never been a strong suit of mine.