Bending forward, Tori Christensen clutched the end of her shoe and clenched her muscles tighter, pressing her forehead to her knee. Her body felt light and coordinated, no longer sore after the hell that was last weekend. Standing up, she inhaled the crisp morning air and blew it out. There was nothing better than a morning run. It shook off the cobwebs and got her focused. Not that one needed a whole lot of mental prowess to hang out at the beach, she noted.
"Where are you going?"
Tori pivoted, shielding her eyes against the sun. "Out for a run. And I won't be back until late."
"Please remember to check in with Erica, okay? You don't want to be late like last week."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Tori responded, already jogging down the driveway.
Turning left down the street, Tori started off slowly, humming along to the song blasting in her ears. The sun was warm against her skin and she almost laughed at the thought that it was that warmth that made her feel unusually limber today. Picking up the pace, she decided to venture into a new section, eager to see what was going on outside her own neighbourhood.
As her feet struck the road in long, smooth strides, she wiped away the perspiration on her forehead with the back of her hand. The simple motion was jarred by the inch-long scar above her right eyebrow. She ran a fingertip over it, lips curling in distaste as she recalled the shard of glass dead-ending a mere two centimetres away from her eye. It hadn't even been her fault. But that was the problem with parties. Too many people, too much anonymity, too many chances to screw with someone else and escape right back into the anonymous folds of the crowd.
Deep in her reverie, Tori was bemused when she looked up and saw some guy waving at her with a huge grin on his face. Stopping, she pulled her earphones out and waited as he jogged up to her.
"Hey, I know you," he said. "You're from Carver, right?"
"Yeah, and you're …"
"Glen Carlin, from the now infamous King."
"Let me guess. Basketball team?"
"That was some time ago," he replied, making a face.
"Couldn't handle us kicking your butts three tournaments in a row, huh?"
"The only reason you guys won was because—"
"What? You guys were hungover? Sick? Depressed? Not getting enough cheer from your cheerleaders?"
"One of those," Glen conceded, his voice low.
Tori grinned. "Don't worry, pretty boy, I'm not into anything that involves balls."
Smirking, Glen shifted his eyes toward the ground. Without following his moving gaze, Tori could practically feel his eyes roving up her body, no doubt picturing what lay behind her beat-up shorts and tank top.
"You know you're not exactly subtle, right?" she pointed out, returning his smirk.
"How 'bout you let me prove you wrong?" he shot back, barely shaken. "Up for a five-mile?"
Cocking an eyebrow, Tori locked on to his gaze, challenge glinting in her eyes. "Let's make it six."
For the first time in a long while, Spencer laughed. She was sitting at the island in the kitchen, doodling on a piece of paper, when Glen stumbled in with his arm around a girl who also couldn't hold back her laughter. His face was pinched and flushed as the girl helped him over to one of the chairs and deposited him into it, her shoulders still shaking with mirth.
"This isn't funny," Glen protested, grasping his knee.
"What happened?" Spencer asked, looking back and forth between him and the girl.
"Glen here decided to challenge me to a five-mile run, but he keeled over on the second mile," the girl answered, her eyes lighting up with amusement.
"Hey, I have an injury here!"
"Yeah, and it serves you right for putting so much strain on it so soon," Spencer said.
"Sister?" the girl asked, lifting her chin at Spencer.
Scrunching up her face in mock disgust, Spencer turned toward the girl. "Unfortunately."
"You have my sympathies. I'm Tori, by the way."
"Spencer. Do you go to King? I haven't seen you around before."
"I go to Carver. In case you can't remember which one that is, it's the one with the ram mascot and the one that pretty much killed your basketball team three times in a row." Tori shot a glance at Glen, who grunted and continued inspecting his knee.
Spencer laughed. "Would you like some water or something? We've also got brownies. I think you deserve some for carrying his sorry butt all the way home."
"Water would be nice, thank you."
As Spencer dropped ice cubes into a glass of water, Paula entered the kitchen with an armload of groceries.
"Mum, this is Tori. She goes to Carver. Tori, Mum," Glen said through clenched teeth.
"Hi. I've heard a lot of good things about Carver," Paula said, pulling boxes of mac-and-cheese and junk food out of the paper bags. Catching Glen's and Spencer's curious looks, she stated, "Your dad's not going to be home to cook today—and I know you guys run and hide every time I pick up a frying pan, so here's your fill of processed food."
"Sweet." Hobbling, Glen made his way to the island and snapped up a bag of Doritos.
Pushing the glass of water toward Tori, Spencer sat next to Glen and watched as Paula too settled down at the island.
"So, Tori, how do you like Carver?"
"It's okay. The teachers are nice, I guess," Tori said, shrugging.
"Is it a safe environment?" Paula continued, levelling Tori with a look that would've made most people squirm.
"Sure. Nothing major ever happens," Tori replied, unperturbed.
Sighing, Spencer tuned out of their conversation, unwilling to put any more thought into a possible transfer. Following the pattern on the countertop, she found herself staring at Tori's arm. It took a good two minutes for her to realise that she was admiring the lean, taut muscles and sun-kissed skin. As Tori shifted in her seat to face Paula, Spencer hazarded a glimpse at her face, catching a flash of green beneath long lashes. Above her right eye was a scar—a recent one from the looks of it.
Tori was a pretty girl, Spencer decided, but pretty was just that—pretty. Picking up her cell phone, Spencer stared miserably at the screen. Still no new messages. How dense did Ashley have to be to not understand that "go away" meant "try harder, stupid"?
"Of course you're good at a lot of things," Ashley said, throwing her hands up.
"Oh yeah? Name some," Aiden grumbled, glaring into the distance.
"You're … you're good at video games, like that one where—"
"Forget it," he bit out through gritted teeth.
"Hey, Ash, did you see—Oh, hi." Stepping outside, Kyla halted in her tracks when she saw them. Wringing her hands, she turned to Aiden, her expression inscrutable. "How are you?"
"Fine," he responded hesitantly, peering at her out of the corner of his eye as if she might blow up at any second.
"Hey, just because you didn't bother telling me that you're in love with my sister doesn't mean that I can't ask how you're feeling," Kyla said, plastering a huge, fake smile on her face.
Aiden opened his mouth, but just as he formed the beginnings of a word, he snapped it shut and stared down at his hands.
"Okay, speaking of the whole sister thing, I need to talk to you," Ashley cut in, gesturing for Kyla to enter the house and getting up to follow her.
"What?"
"Did you hear the news report about us—about you?"
"You mean the one about me not being Dad's daughter?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, I did. Looks like we're worthy of gossip columns now. I wonder when we'll get to Page Six."
Crossing her arms, Ashley glared pointedly at Kyla. "I checked out the website. They actually did find some pretty interesting stuff."
"So? Don't tell me you believe them." Kyla laughed shortly, matching Ashley's glare with incredulity.
"Why don't you take a look at what they found out?" Ashley pointed at her laptop. "Then tell me you don't feel just a tiny bit convinced."
Rolling her eyes, Kyla pulled the laptop toward her. She narrowed her eyes at the screen. "This is an e-mail to Spencer."
"Give me that," Ashley snapped, shoving Kyla with her shoulder and closing the window. Entering in the website's address, she handed over the laptop to Kyla once more and waited as Kyla read the article, watching her eyes widen and her cheeks blanch.
When Glen left to take a shower, Tori let out a short laugh. "Your brother's cute."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, he's cute—in a pervy, will-do-anything-that-moves kind of way."
"That's more like it," Spencer responded, laughing.
"What about you? Got a boyfriend?" Tori asked, pulling the rubberband out of her hair and letting the loose, dark golden waves tumble down to her shoulders.
Spencer hesitated. "Um, no. Not right now."
"So King's not a breeding ground for boyfriend material?"
"I guess you could say that," Spencer replied, desperately racking her brain for safer topics. "Uh, do you play a lot of sports?"
"Nah. I can't do the whole contact sports, team player thing. I prefer roller-blading and surfing. I practically live at the beach."
"That must be nice."
"Don't get me wrong; I do care about school. I just hate how … routine the whole thing is. You show up at the same time every day and see the same people and do the same things. At least when I'm out surfing, the waves are never the same. You never know what to expect." Smiling, Tori rested her elbows on the countertop and leaned forward.
Now that she was staring at Tori full in the face, Spencer felt her stomach flip-flop. With the sun filtering in through the windows, Tori's green eyes were incandescent, a swirl of mesmerising patterns doing nothing to help keep Spencer's mind on the topic at hand. Clearing her throat, she brushed imaginary crumbs off the island.
Tori's lips quirked as if she was repressing a grin, but much to Spencer's relief, she either decided to ignore Spencer's discomfort or simply hadn't noticed it at all.
"Well, the brownies were great," Tori said, glancing at the clock on the wall. Her eyebrows jumped when she saw the time. "Hey, is that clock correct?"
"Yeah. Is something wrong?"
"Um, I have to go. I've got a … something important to do and I'm already late," Tori said, the words coming out in a rush. She leapt off her stool and began backpedalling toward the front door. "It was great meeting you. Can you give that paper with my number on it to Glen?"
"Um, sure," Spencer responded, confused at the fluster registering on Tori's features.
"Bye!" With that, Tori was out of the house, long legs pumping furiously the moment the door slammed shut.
Shaking her head, Spencer picked up the piece of paper and headed upstairs, willing the unexpected whirl of butterflies in her stomach to disappear. The moment she reached the top of the stairs, Glen burst out from his room, his hair still wet from the shower.
"Hey, is Tori still downstairs?"
"Nope. She just left, said she had something important to do. But she asked me to give you her number," Spencer said, holding out the paper.
"Sweet! I didn't think she'd want to ask me out so soon."
"What makes you think she wants to ask you out?"
"Why else would she give me her number?" Plucking the piece of paper from Spencer's fingers, Glen held it up in triumph, grinning inanely. "And Glen Carlin is back in the game!"