Chapter 8: The Race is On
She crossed the large stone patio and walked down a short flight of stairs, onto a beautifully manicured lawn. The backyard gently sloped down to the James River, so Isabelle took off her sandals and padded barefoot to the water's edge. She spied a shot pier with a bass boat tethered to the side posts about thirty feet away. Having never seen such a boat up close, she curiously approached the pier and ran a cautious hand over the sleek watercraft.
Making a mental note to ask Jake to take her for a ride before the weather turned cold, she sat at the end of the pier and drew her legs to her chest. Isabelle truly loved the water; it always calmed her. She idly watched the wind whip through the trees. A storm was brewing, and by the rumbling in the background, it would be a big one.
Sirius loves storms, she recalled with a wry grin. He used to sit at the edge of the cliffs and watch the waves crash in. And, damn, he looked so good all soaking wet that it should be illegal. No man, especially one I can't have, should be that sexy.
"And Sirius?"
"The Ministry of Magic took him into custody about an hour ago. They're questioning him now."
Isabelle's head whipped around. "Questioning him? For what?"
"For betraying the Potters to Lord Voldemort," Professor Dumbledore said quietly.
"Betraying?" she repeated. "He wasn't the Secret-Keeper, I swear. It was Peter Pettigrew. I was there when they performed the charm."
"Unfortunately, Peter won't be able to confirm or deny your story." He told her about how Sirius attacked and murdered Peter in broad daylight, killing several Muggles in the process.
"Professor Dumbledore, Sirius may be a bit of a loose cannon, but he would never hurt innocent people. He's being set up by Peter to take the fall for my family's deaths," she said emphatically.
"Hmm," he mused. "Your story is identical to Sirius'. Very interesting."
"It's not interesting. It's the truth!" she said loudly.
"It is the truth," Isabelle repeated, laying her head on her knees.
A solitary tear dropped on her knee, as she thought about how Sirius was faring in prison. Fat raindrops began to fall from the stormy sky, which matched her dark, turbulent mood. She didn't lift her head, instead allowing the rain to drench her hair and run down her back. Within five minutes, she was completely soaked and no longer felt the chill of the rain.
"Isabelle?" a male voice called over the raging storm. She turned her head, stared at the dark-haired man in front of her, completely confused.
"A Sirius?" she whispered in awe, standing up.
A bolt of lightning struck the river, illuminating her sodden frame. The bright halo made Isabelle appear ethereal, otherworldly, at least to a dumbstruck Jake Parker. He'd never seen anything so exotically beautiful in his life. Clumps of soaking wet hair clung to her face, neck, and upper body. And her dripping, thin robes left little, if anything, to the imagination.
"Are you all right?" he asked, wondering what sort of crazy woman stood on a pier set on the river's edge during a thunderstorm. Isabelle smiled seductively, walked up to him, and wrapped her cool, wet arms around his neck.
"You came for me," she said, switching from Gaelic to English. She tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.
"Uh, yeah. I was a little worried about you, alone here in--"
Isabelle silenced him with a soft, lingering kiss, and lightly ran her fingertips across the back of his neck. She smiled against his lips as he pulled her to him so tightly that a lock of her hair whipped around her shoulders and stuck to his cheek.
"Isn't this a little sudden?" he stuttered as she kissed his neck and collarbone. She laughed – a short, dry laugh.
"Oh, no," she whispered into his ear. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."
Jake raised an eyebrow. At most, she'd known of him since early September, only two short months. Not that he was complaining, but something seemed a little off. "Isa--"
"Shhh," she insisted. "No one needs to know about this."
Isabelle boldly grasped him by his robes collar and pulled him down on the pier. Neither of them noticed the whipping wind, or the nearly deafening thunder. In the semi-darkness, she could clearly make out the look of desire on her companion's face.
"Is this all right?" he hesitated.
"Why do you worry so much about being good? What's wrong with being bad every now and again?" she questioned.
That is a good point, Jake admitted. What would be the benefit of being good right now? Since when do I have a conscience? Since she's my sister's friend, idiot. I've spent my whole damn life trying to get to know my sister, and I'm about to risk losing it all by hooking up with Isabelle? What kind of moron am I? The kind who's being seduced, that's who. Forget being good.
"Absolutely nothing," he replied, kissing her hard and fast, leaving her breathless.
A horrid realization washed over her as she snapped out of her delusional dream world. This man was not Sirius Black. She wanted to cry, scream and crawl into a corner to die all at once. Sirius was still in prison. She, Isabelle, was still in exile, and betraying Sarah Lindsay by using her new best friend's older brother as a Sirius substitute. Jake didn't deserve to be treated this way. But, how could she possibly explain this to him or Sarah Lindsay?
Especially since she knows that I've been with Phillip, Isabelle panicked. She'll never forgive me for this. I don't deserve to be forgiven.
Acting on her flight reflex, she stood up and ran down the pier. However, her bare feet slipped on the wet planks, losing her balance. Her head struck the edge of a side post before she had time to extend an arm to break her fall. Right as everything went black, she vaguely heard and felt her body fall into the river.
-----
Isabelle hesitantly cracked open one eye, and was instantly assaulted by the sterile white brightness of a hospital room. She wrinkled her nose, groaned, and closed her eye again. A blinding headache made her want to go back to sleep again, although she did wonder where she was, and exactly what happened to her.
"H-hello?" she rasped, hoping that she wasn't alone in the room.
"Isabelle?"
She smiled, and briefly opened both eyes to let Severus know she was all right. "Hey."
"Hey, yourself. You gave us quite a scare you know," he said sternly, masking his relief.
"I'm sorry. What happened?" She reached up and touched the back of her head, which was wrapped in a thick bandage.
"You took a nasty fall and fell into the river. It's a good thing Jake Parker was there, or you would've drowned." Severus scowled at her recklessness. "He saved your life by jumping into the river after you and dragging you careless arse to the shore. Better be glad that he spent years as a lifeguard. Why were you on a pier during a thunderstorm, anyway?"
"I like storms," she huffed.
"Apparently you're on a death wish, young lady. And what were you doing alone with Jake Parker?"
"Do we really have to talk about this? I just woke up, and my head aches awfully badly, and besides--"
"Isabelle Rose," he said warningly. "I've spent the last two days worrying about you, and I think I'm entitled to some answers. Did Jake, I mean, was he, um, trying to hurt you?"
"No!" The force of her answer made her ears start ringing. "It's my fault that I fell, I promise. He came out there because I was taking a walk around the grounds. They sort of reminded me of home, and it was a bad day, so I wanted some alone time. I sat on the pier to think, and then the storm came. End of story. I swear. Have I really been out for two days?"
"Yes. You've had a lot of company. The young Mr. Parker and his father have made several stops by, as has Sarah Lindsay, Brittany, and the entire cheerleading squad. Stacey's lurking around here somewhere getting drinks for she and I. Just don't do this again," Severus commanded.
"Do what?" she croaked.
"This. Hurting yourself. I hate hospitals." He said the last part quietly, almost in a whisper. Isabelle extended her arm, placed her hand on top of Severus', and squeezed his fingers. "I know. I really am sorry."
-----
"Ergh. My head's swimming," Isabelle complained to an unsympathetic Severus, who rolled his eyes and placed several steaming mugs on her bedside table. "What are those?"
"Poisons," he replied sardonically.
"Why are you so mean to me?" she asked in a childish, whiny voice, batting her eyelashes dramatically.
"I'm not even going to humor that with a response. Drink up."
Severus crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. The doctors allowed her to come home two days after waking up, but she wasn't regaining her strength like she should be. Which both worried and puzzled him. Isabelle was young and otherwise healthy, so she should be completely healed by now, especially with the large doses of healing medicines he kept pumping into her system. He heard a knock at the door.
"Sounds like you have another visitor." He smiled in spite of himself. The room full of flowers, cards and various get-well presents were quite a testament to how well Isabelle was adjusting to life in America.
"Maybe it's your girlfriend," she teased, knowing how calling Stacey that plucked his everlasting nerve. Sure enough, his smile instantly vanished and he stormed out of the room in a huff.
Isabelle lost herself in a magazine, and didn't see an uncharacteristically timid Jake hovering in her bedroom doorway. His eyes swept the small, but tidy room. The walls were painted a cheerful colonial blue, which made him smile because painting the rooms any color but white was against the complex's rules. But, he had to admit that the room was much nicer looking her way.
The dark, oak furniture looked well worn, but not shabby. A massive desk took up an entire corner of the room, buried by various textbooks, notebooks, pens, quills and parchment. The double bed was nestled beside the desk, covered with a duvet of small, multicolored wildflowers on an ivory background. On the other side of the bed was a knee-high nightstand. Across from the bed, against the wall, was a dresser with a cork message board nailed above it.
He briefly studied the eclectic mix of items tacked to the message board – to-do lists, a school events calendar, a six-inch button reading "Kiss Me, I'm Irish", and various pictures. What immediately struck Jake about the pictures is that none of them appeared more than a couple of years old. His eyes traveled back to the dresser top, cluttered by a vast assortment of health and beauty products.
Posters of various locations hung on the walls. A massive portrait of the New York City skyline at night loomed over the desk. On the other side of the room was a framed picture of the white cliffs of Dover. The two pictures contrasted so strongly that they almost seemed at war with each other. Underneath the portrait of Dover was a smaller picture of a large villa in Barcelona, Spain. At least, that's what the caption read.
All in all, it was the most unusual bedroom that Jake had ever seen. But, he thought that it suited its owner well. He gazed at a peacefully reading Isabelle, and briefly entertained the idea of leaving her in peace. However, before he could retreat back to his own apartment, she looked up, and paralyzed him with her eerie, piercing stare.
Isabelle tried to speak, but her voice failed her. All week, she had dreaded this moment, facing Jake after what happened Sunday night. Her cheeks flushed, turning a deep rose, and her eyes darted back to her magazine for a brief second before facing him again.
Better to get this over with, she told herself sternly.
"Hi, Jake," she said, impressed by how calm she sounded. "How are you?"
"I'm fine. How are you feeling?" he asked anxiously, genuinely concerned.
"I've been better. But all in all, not so bad. Why don't you come in?"
Isabelle nodded towards a corner of the bed. Hesitantly, Jake crossed the room and sat stiffly. Before continuing the conversation, she reached underneath her pillow, pulled out her wand, and closed the door firmly.
"Jake," she began, taking a deep breath, "about last Sunday--"
"I am so sorry," he interrupted in a rush.
"No, I'm the one who's sorry," she said in anguish, turning away from him and curling into a little ball. "I've ruined everything, especially any chance of friendship I had with you and everyone else."
Jake stood up, and walked around the bed. He sat on the desk chair so that he could look at her face. "Isabelle, you didn't ruin anything."
"You don't understand," she protested, pulling the duvet to her chin.
"Please help me to understand, then. I know I've given you no reason to trust me, but if you go out on a limb, I swear that I won't let you down. At least, I'll try my best not to."
She sighed heavily and sat up. "Whenever I get upset about something, I have a nasty habit of drowning my sorrows with any random, good-looking guy I can find for a good snog. Or worse. I'm sorry, but I used you terribly."
"I see." That wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but at least she didn't seem angry with him. Which was something, at least.
"No, you don't." Isabelle began fidgeting with the edge of the duvet cover. "I don't know how to say this, but maybe it's best if we don't speak to each other anymore."
His face whitened. "Wh-what? If I did anything to hurt you in any way, I'm incredibly sorry."
"Jake," she sighed, turning her head briefly to the poster of the white cliffs, "you need to build a relationship with your sister. Family's more important than everything, especially some girl you barely know. I'll only get in the way, trust me. When Sarah Lindsay finds out about last Sunday, she'll never look at you the same. And it'll be my fault, pure and simple. I can't live with that."
"But we just made out a little. Come on, we're young. Aren't we supposed to do crazy stuff?" He grinned crookedly, which made Isabelle's heart literally ache because his smile looked so much like Sirius'.
Why does everything begin and end with Sirius? she wondered. Jake is so much like Sirius that there's no way I can ever have a healthy relationship with him. I'll always be tempted to use him as a substitute. But, how can I explain that, especially when a huge part of my mind is screaming, "Snog the boy! He's hot, and obviously willing."
"It's complicated," Isabelle said slowly, gathering her thoughts together. "Jake, who's your best mate?"
He looked puzzled at the seemingly unrelated question. "Thomas Spence. I've known him since before I can remember. I'm good buddies with his older brother, too. Come to think of it, they're both probably my best friends. You've only met Brittany, right? The whole family's great. I can't introduce you if you like. We only live three apartments down."
"I know." She hung her head in shame.
"Oh. Did Sarah Lindsay tell you that?" he asked, unconcerned.
"No. I, uh, was at your apartment's party before the school year started," she admitted in a tiny voice. "And I met Phillip there."
"So?" Jake shrugged, still missing the point.
"He and I had a one night stand," she whispered, hiding her eyes with her hands. "I was really scared about starting a new school, and had a little too much to drink. The next thing I knew…"
"You and Phillip…" Jake's voice trailed off in disbelief. His mind couldn't process the information, so he stared blankly off into space with a dumbfounded expression.
"And I haven't been able to face him since then. I didn't know that Brittany was his sister when we met at school until we were already friends. She's such a sweet girl, and I didn't want her to think any less of me. So, she doesn't know. But Sarah Lindsay does."
"Phillip seduced you," he said flatly, still trying to make his brain compute what his ears heard. Isabelle shook her head as fervently as she could without becoming dizzy.
"No. At first I thought that's what happened. But I took this potion a couple of weeks ago to help me remember, for closure, you know. And I was definitely insistent on having my way with him. He was very respectful, and considerate. That is, until his horrid girlfriend showed up the next morning. What kind of man cheats on his girlfriend with a stranger?"
"Girlfriend? Phillip doesn't have a girlfriend." Ok, Parker, that was about the dumbest thing you've ever said. Isabelle looked at him curiously.
"But Nikki said--"
"That girl doesn't know the definition of 'over'. In my opinion, he should've never messed with her. Nikki's a monster in high heels with fabulous legs. But not too much between the ears, which is why when my man went to college, she got the boot. Thank God." Jake rolled his eyes and gestured heavenward.
"Oh." Isabelle didn't know what else to say. And from the way he looked downward and fidgeted slightly, neither did Jake.
"Well, um, this explains a lot," he said after a few minutes.
"Oh?" she said again, wanting to crawl into a corner and die of embarrassment.
"Yeah. Like why you never want to come over our place with Sarah Lindsay. Or why you won't go to Brit's place. I don't blame you, but still. Explains a lot."
"I can't face him after what happened," Isabelle whispered. "I wouldn't know what to say. Especially when he and everyone else finds out that I snogged you. I'm not ashamed of you, Jake. But I don't know what to do except not talk to any of you anymore. I don't want any trouble."
"You can't do that," he exclaimed. She sighed heavily and flung herself back on her pillows.
"I don't have a choice, now do I?"
Jake closed his eyes briefly, not believing what he was about to say. "Yeah, you do. Isabelle, I haven't known you for very long, but I do know that you're a great person. I've been trying to get to know my sister since I was a little kid and my mom split. But she wouldn't give me the time of day until you came around. I'll always be indebted to you for that. So, what do you say that we just keep our little er, interlude between the two of us?"
"What do you mean?" She narrowed her eyes.
"I mean, so we made out once. Big deal, right?" It was a big deal to me, he answered internally. "Does that mean we can't be friends?"
Isabelle laughed at his goofy expression, already feeling much better. "You'd want to be mates with a silly high school cheerleader?"
"Well, you're not so bad. For a foreigner and all," he joked back. "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing." She rolled her eyes.
"All right, then. Why don't you come drag racing with me and Sarah Lindsay?" he asked. Isabelle's brow furrowed curiously.
"Drag racing?"
Jake laughed, and shook his head in mock sympathy. "You poor uneducated thing. Most every Saturday night, all the wizarding folk in town with halfway decent vehicles race. We block off this part of Route 5; it's a two-mile straightaway. Anyway, I wanted to introduce my sister to all my old school buddies. It'd be fun if you could join us. Hell, you could even bring that nice, shiny Corvette of yours and see how it stacks up against a real car."
"My 'Vette is a real car," she huffed. "And, that sounds like fun. I don't think Sev would let me race, being an invalid and all. But, I'll cheer you on. Just give me a few minutes to get ready?"
"Can do. I'll meet you in the parking in ten?" he grinned.
"It's a date."
I wish, Jake thought.
-----
Completely exasperated, Brittany beat on Phillip's door impatiently. "Open the door! I know you're in here. You can't hide in your room forever."
"Go away," came the reply.
"I'm coming in," she warned, busting down the door. "Good Lord, Phillip. You look awful. And still attached to your blanket, I see."
"Leave me and my blanket alone, Brit. I'm not in a mood."
She cheerfully flopped down on the bed. "And I'm sick of your two month long pity party. All you do is go to school, soccer practice, games and back here again. You have no life."
"So what?" He buried his head underneath the blanket.
"So, I miss my brother," Brittany said earnestly. "I miss spending time with you. You used to be really fun, and I know you're upset. The whole one-year anniversary of the Potter murders and all. But, it's time to move on. Please? I need my biggest brother."
Phillip knew that she had a point – a very good point. "Sorry I haven't been there for you, switching schools and all."
"Just be there for me now. Starting tonight. The drag race's on, and everyone knows your car's the fastest in this part of Virginia. Come on, it'll be fun," she pleaded, knowing he couldn't resist a good race.
"All right, little sister."
"Fabulous," Brittany pronounced, pulling him to his feet and dragging him to the bathroom. She rummaged around underneath the sink for a minute. "First off, you need to start looking human again. Phillip Spence, meet razor."
"What's wrong with facial hair?" he frowned, examining his inch-long beard. His sister wrinkled her nose.
"You're blonde. Blonde and beard just doesn't go. Not on you, anyway. You're too pretty to muck up your face with peach fuzz." Brittany snickered at his instant look of righteous indignation.
"Pretty? Peach fuzz? Get out of here while I still have some self-esteem," he said, pretending to be hurt.
Brittany laughed all the way down the hall and into the living room, where she placed a quick telephone call to their mom to let her know that her little plan to force Phillip to be social worked. Then, she kicked back and waited for him to become presentable.
When he remerged, his baby sister nearly beamed. Of her two brothers, Thomas was the one she always fought with and pulled pranks on. She hero-worshipped Phillip, and was so proud of everything he did, whether it was soccer, or school, or anything else for that matter. Phillip looked fantastic for a change, if she said so herself. Gone was his uniform of soccer shorts and a ratty, grass-stained t-shirt.
And good riddance, Brittany thought as they hurried to the parking lot and removed the T-tops from the Trans Am to take advantage of the late fall warmth. By the time they drove through town and reached the blocked off straightaway, Phillip actually looked like he was in a good mood. He loved to race, mostly because he always won.
The wizarding teenagers who had graduated were busy casting charms on either side of Route 5 so that anyone approaching the road would think that the county police had blocked off the road. A tall redhead waved them through the fake roadblocks, and they quickly parked to see who was there and what cars were racing.
Across the road, Isabelle closely followed Jake, completely awed. She'd never seen anything like this in her entire life. There must've been a hundred people or more milling around, chatting, dancing, revving their cars up, and generally throwing a huge party. He stopped every few feet to introduce her and Sarah Lindsay to various people. Her head swam with all the names, but she did her best to be social.
"What's that?" she asked Jake in a quiet voice, pointing to the strangest vehicle that she'd ever laid her eyes on. He laughed at her puzzled frown.
"It's an El Camino, better known as a cruck," he explained. "It's exactly like a car, but has a truck bed. Want a closer look? I know the guy who owns it."
"Sure," Isabelle said, studying the cruck amusedly as they drew closer to the hybrid vehicle.
The owner, who went by Bootie, was more than happy to explain the particulars of the El Camino – how fast it went, why a cruck's useful, and how he beats Jake's Shelby half of the time. Isabelle wondered why any self-respecting man would answer to the name Bootie, but then again, most of the people around here had bizarre nicknames.
Jake hopped in the back of the cruck to get a better view of the scene, partially to see if Phillip was around. After talking to Isabelle, he really wasn't in a mood to see his best friend. He extended a hand to her, and she scrambled up to survey everything. One of the first things she saw was Sarah Lindsay deep in conversation with Thomas Spence. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, knowing how much her friend was smitten with the boy. Bootie turned on the radio, and Isabelle couldn't help it. She had to dance to the music. So, she began dancing with a more than willing Jake.
A loud catcall caused both Phillip and Brittany to look in the El Camino's direction. Their faces blanched and the siblings adopted identical heartbroken expressions. Phillip couldn't believe it. There was Isabelle, dancing with Jake? He turned to his sister, who hadn't taken her eyes off the couple for a second.
"Brit, who's with Jake?" he asked in a tight voice.
"My new best friend, Isabelle," she answered in an equally forced tone. "Phillip, is, uh, is she the girl that you--"
"Yeah. I'm getting out of here," he fumed, kicking the ground furiously.
"I'm with you," Brittany added quickly. Seeing Jake so happy hurt her deeply. Why can't he look at me the way he looks at Isabelle? she wondered hopelessly, following Phillip back to the car. The night hadn't exactly turned out as planned, she thought despondently.
Phillip didn't say a word on the walk to the car. He didn't know who he was angrier at – Isabelle for running out on him without an explanation, Brittany for failing to mention the fact that she had a new best friend who perfectly fit the profile of Isabelle Evans, or Jake for hooking up with "his" girl. All in all, he was beyond livid.
"Brit, I love you, but you're not my favorite person right now. So maybe you'd better stay quiet on the drive home," he warned. The fifteen-year-old paled and looked so miserable that Phillip instantly felt awful. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You didn't know."
"Know what?" she squeaked. He clutched the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"That the girl with Jake is the one who I've been trying to find for months. Brit, I thought that I'd never see her again, and to see her like that – it hurt. Has she ever said anything about me?" he asked, trying not to look hopeful. Brittany shook her head no.
"But, it would explain why Isabelle doesn't want to come to the house. She acts like she's never met you," she puzzled, masking her own wounded pride. Phillip's face fell into the sweetest, saddest expression that Brittany had ever seen.
"Well, I probably haven't, other than, you know. Do you mind telling me about her, seeing as she's your best friend and all?" He hated lying to his sister, but everyone thought he was practically insane as it was. Better to gather some more information before speaking up about what he knew.
"She's a transfer student, like me," Brittany began, biting her lip. "We're both juniors, but she's seventeen because she dropped out of school last year and decided to go back. And, she's really, really smart, too. She goes to Jamestown all day, then cheerleading practice after school, and after that, she studies magic stuff all night. Oh, and she goes to dance class three times a week and on Saturdays."
Ok, Phillip thought, mentally summarizing. Seventeen, witch, dancer? So far, so good.
"If I remember right, Isabelle has a funny accent. Not quite Yankee – sounded kind of foreign," he said conversationally, cleverly hiding his agenda. "It is foreign. She and her brother are from England."
Brother? What brother? Phillip wondered. "Where in England?"
"I've never asked," Brittany admitted. "But, she has a poster of the white cliffs of Dover on her wall."
A smile slowly spread across his face. "So, where to? Want to go home, or back to the apartment with me?"
"Home, I reckon. I have such an exciting social life, let me tell you." She rolled her eyes.