"Well, that's it for me guys. I can't keep my eyes open." Chrissy says mid yawn, drawing my attention away from the newspaper article I was reading on a rise in juvenile drug addiction in Purgatory.
"Go and get some rest, Chris. There is always tomorrow. Thanks for all the help today." The warm timbre of Nicole's voice momentarily distracts me from realizing that I was about to be left alone with the girl who scares me more than anything else ever has.
Chrissy greets us, reminding me not to stay up too late, it being a school night an all. I promise her I won't with a smile and then she is out the barn. Leaving me without a safety blanket between myself and the fiery girl who continues scanning the photograph in her hands thoughtfully.
The curiosity and the subdued attraction in me stop my eyes from returning to the article left abandoned on the floor in front of me. Instead, they start roaming over every part of poetry etched in skin that rival's marble.
I see the adorable little wrinkle she gets when deeply thoughtful present on her smooth forehead; my eyes trace the path down her perfectly shaped nose and fall softly on lips which I had to physically restrain myself from kissing a week ago in this very barn. I hurriedly avert my gaze before the urge to do so again overcomes my will to protect my heart.
I watch entranced as her throat bobs subtly as she swallows. Her hand goes to tuck a scarlet strand behind her ear before she places it back onto the floor next to her. I shamelessly stare at her beautiful hand, remembering the feeling of those dexterous fingers gripping mine warmly as our bodies swayed to the music in close proximity. The way I had felt in that moment, how my heart had so very nearly betrayed me from breaking the promise I made to protect it.
I really love you. I wanna be with you, but I'm so scared.
The soft lyrics coming from Nicole's Bluetooth speaker register in my mind and I shoot an annoyed glare at it for calling me out.
"Waves, you okay? Do you not like Tristen? You can put on something else; I don't mind." Nicole says, drawing my gaze to my favourite part of her. Her eyes. Orbs of liquid gold look at me like I was the precious piece of metal. Unable to look into her eyes any longer for fear that I would lose myself in them unable to escape the feelings they made me feel, I will myself to focus back on the article.
"Uh, no its okay. I love your music." I say, briefly meeting her eyes again. It was the truth. Nicole Haught had an exquisite taste in music. It was like she had purposefully selected every song on her playlist, like they were as much a part of her as the DNA in her cells. I could see the effect every note had on her, the subtle way she would tap her foot to the tune or how she would bob her head every now and then, her mouth moving silently to the lyrics.
The way she reacted to each song told a story of her life, and you would only be able to recognize it if you were fortunate enough to have been given a copy of that story for free by the author herself. I only realized the privilege I had of really knowing Nicole Haught when I noticed how her demeanor would shift from joy filled air guitar solos when Sugar We're Going Down played, to somber close-eyed remembrance when the song switched to Capital Shame.
I feel the burn of liquid gold on my skin as I try to focus on the research. In my attempt to escape the other girl's gaze, my eyes catch the headline on one of the yet to be touched articles peaking from a box.
Svane family buys out another set of properties in Purgatory. Among them, beloved bar Shorty's.
I move over and grab the paper from the box. Below the headline is a picture of a family looking toward the camera proudly. They are standing in front of a building I recognize as the Glory Hole. The family consists of a man with a thick beard in a fitted suit standing next to a woman wearing a summer dress. They each have a hand on the shoulder of their son. The boy of around 10 or eleven years old is standing in front of his parents, looking at the camera with a scowl. The caption reads Robert Svane Snr, Amelia Svane and their son Robert Jnr.
"Did you find something?" The unexpected feeling of Nicole's warm breath against my ear almost has me dropping the paper in my hand. I quickly recover my composure.
"I don't know. I just find this interesting. Isn't that the Glory Hole?"
Nicole's body shifts closer to mine as she reaches over to take the article from my hands. My senses are overwhelmed by vanilla mixed with earth and hints of tractor engine grease.
She pulls back, her absence leaving a cold void that chills my skin. "Yeah, that's the Glory Hole all right. It used to be Shorty's when I was a kid. Nedley's friend Shorty, who gave us Skip and Dexter, used to own it. But a drought hit the GRT during that time, lasting two whole years. The drought made it extremely difficult for anyone in the farming business to get by, especially Shorty. He could no longer afford the bar. So when the Svane family made him a generous offer, he sold it to them and used the money to buy feed to keep his animals alive and get them though the famine."
I nod my head, impressed yet unsurprised by Nicole's deep knowledge of the town. "I take it the Svane family changed the name then?"
"No, the name remained Shorty's for years after the Svane family bought it. They knew how much it meant to the town's people, so they kept it." Nicole explains.
"How did it become the Glory Hole then?" I ask, my eyes tracing over the picture again before going back to Nicole's.
She grimaces. "It was changed by Bobo del Rey when he bought the bar. I still remember when we found out it would be changed to the Glory Hole. I was in 9th grade at the time and my dad had read the article to us the morning before school. I remember the palpable sadness that fell over everyone in town when they put up that horrible pink neon sign. It was like Bobo del Rey took the town's heart and replaced it with the Death Star. The bar used to be a place for families, a place where everyone felt welcome and could enjoy a drink with their neighbour. Bobo turned it into a pit for snakes and spineless criminals like himself."
I watch as the redhead's jaw clenches in subdued anger, the attractiveness of it sends waves of heat through my belly. I hurriedly look away for fear of combusting and focus my eyes back on the picture.
"Why would the Svanes have sold the Glory Hole to Bobo?" I wonder out loud.
"Well actually it is quite the tragic tale. Right before Bobo became the owner of the Glory Hole, there was a fire at the Svane family home. It took both Mr. and Mrs. Svane's lives. Leaving the bar available for the highest bidder."
"Woah, that's so very tragic." I say, unable to stop the gasp leaving my mouth at the terrible turn of events. Nicole nods sadly at me. "Yeah, it shocked the whole town. The Svanes were actually pretty decent folk."
My eyes fall on the scowling boy in the picture. "What happened to Robert? Did he escape the fire?"
Nicole frowns. "Actually, I don't know much about Robert. I knew that he was a difficult kid, always causing trouble. He had a very short fuse and was known for his destructive bouts of anger. His parents had to constantly put out fires left in his wake. Figuratively speaking, of course. When he was 16, Robert got into a fight with another kid at school. He beat the kid near an inch of his life and was about to kill him when my dad tackled him and restrained him."
"Your dad?" I ask, surprised.
Nicole nods with a proud smile, despite the sadness creeping into her eyes. She moves over to the mess of articles strewn over on her side and picks one up. She hands it for me to inspect. "Local cop saves youngster from being pummeled to death by Robert Svane Junior." I read the headline out loud.
Below it there is picture of a handsome ginger cop handcuffing a teenage boy. The scowl the boy wears as he stares at the camera unsettles me, sending a shiver up my spine. A warm hand on my thigh sends a different kind of shiver up my spine, my eyes meeting worried brown ones.
"Are you okay, Waves? I didn't mean to scare you with all this detail on the town's dark history." Nicole tells me softly as she stares at me with concern. I shake my head, smiling at her despite myself.
"No, the way Robert looks at the camera here is just a bit unsettling is all. I actually love learning about the history of the town. History has always been a subject close to my heart, there are so many lessens we can learn from studying it." Realizing that I might have revealed a bit too much about my passion and that people usually found it stupid, I look down in embarrassment.
"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived; but if faced with courage, need not be lived again." Hearing the familiar quote fall from Nicole's lips catapults my eyes back towards hers.
"Maya Angelou." I breathe in astonishment, reminded of the moment on MatchMe I had discovered that Haughtshot was different and that I really liked her.
Nicole nods and smiles at me bashfully. The dimples etched into her cheeks causes my traitorous heart to jump weightlessly like Neil Armstrong amongst the craters of the moon. I swallow and look into orbs of captured sun. "People usually think my love for history is stupid." I confess silently.
The dimples disappear, replaced by a frown on her flawless face. "What? That's the dumbest thing I have ever heard. Waves, your passion for learning and the past is amazing. I mean, history is the very thing that drives the world to improvement. And it is people like you, who questions the past, that has brought forth that kind of progress. So don't you dare let anyone tell you it's lame. I… I think it is a really wonderful part of who you are." Her words and the honesty in her vulnerable gaze are too much, overwhelming me once again with the very feelings that I am trying my utmost to escape from.
"I… thanks Nicole. That means a lot." I tell her honestly and watch her smile at me again. I hurriedly avert my gaze and return my attention to the article on Robert Junior's arrest in hopes of finding a diversion from the dangerous territory Nicole has my heart once again treading in.
Deputy Nick Haught arrested young Robert Svane after the youth nearly ended the life of another boy during a fight at Purgatory High School. Svane will be taken to the local Police Station until he can appear in court. This is not young Svane's first dance with the law, the boy already has two other crimes on his criminal record after having been caught in the act of stealing cigarettes and headache tablets from the local Drug Store. Gloria Valdez had been the one to report his previous crime. The Svane family refused to comment on the events.
It seems Nicole's analysis of young Robert Svane being troublesome was quite the euphemism. I wonder what had driven the boy to these criminal acts. And where was he now? The article does not provide these answers so I direct the question to the person who seems to know a lot about the Svane family.
"After Robert was arrested, what happened to him?" I ask Nicole.
"He was sentenced to juvenile prison for two years. Got out when he was 18. His parents were so ashamed of him that they sent him to a boarding school for troubled boys somewhere in Montana. No one heard or saw him ever since."
As I go to ask another question, about Bobo del Rey this time, a yawn escapes my lips. Nicole smiles at me sheepishly. "Well, I think you speak for the both of us. We should probably go to bed, it's almost 10 pm and we have another early morning tomorrow."
Unable to deny her sound reasoning I help her pack up the mess of articles and bid her good night, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face as her dimples appear again. How am I going to survive Nicole Haught? I think, desperately attempting to shake off the feelings and desires she ignites in my heart. I know it is a futile exercise and brace myself for another night dreaming of marble skin, soft lips and hair the colour of the fire glowing in my belly.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
As the teacher's voice drones on about mathematical probability into my headphones, I take out my phone. Now that my history class was done for the day, my interest in school dulled.
I glance over at Jeremy who is listening and taking notes intently next to me. He was really smart, especially at mathematics and science. He looks away from the laptop and smiles at me. I return it warmly.
Jeremy and I have become good friends since I came to Joy farm. He had told me his story freely one night, that his parents kicked him out on the street when he came out to them as gay. Nicole had found him begging for food when she was running an errand in town. She immediately called Nedley, who told her to bring him over to Joy farm.
I felt an immediate bond to him after he told me his story and we spend many nights talking to each other after that. He was also the only one at Joy Farm who knew my whole story.
It happened during a night where I had screamed myself awake after having yet another nightmare of the events that led to me ending up at Joy farm. The sound of the shotgun going off, Wynonna screaming my name and the blood… so much blood…. I shake off the horrific images from my mind, willing my heart to slow down and the tears to stay put.
Jeremy had heard me shout out in my sleep when he walked past my room to get water. Fearing I was in danger, he entered my room and found me drenched in sweat and tears. He hugged me tight and once finally I calmed down, he gently asked about the things I had screamed about. Unable to deny the truth in the words that I had shouted in my state of sleep, I had told Jeremy everything.
To my surprise he did not retaliate or think I was a monster, he simply assured me that I was acting in self-defense and that he thought I was very brave. I found comfort in that, but made him promise never to tell anyone else. I feared that not everyone would hear my story and find me innocent like he did. And some people's opinions of me admittedly mattered a whole lot.
I catch Jeremy giving me a concerned look. I shake my head to indicate nothing was wrong and smile at him with a thumbs up. He relaxes and nods at me before returning his attention to the lesson on the laptop screen.
I hear the distinct sounds of Candy Crush above the din of the mathematical equations, causing me to turn my head to look at Rachel. The teen has her feet lifted onto the table next to the laptop, looking very much disinterested in her own current class. She notices me looking and raises her eyebrows. My phone buzzes, causing me to turn away from the teen.
Rachel: Shouldn't you be in class rn?
I look back and shoot her an annoyed look.
Waverly: Shouldn't YOU be in class right now?
Rachel: Gee, relax MOM. I got all this stuff down already. How's the research going?
I remember last night's interactions with a certain redhead, how she would make me feel when she looked at me and touched me with gentleness that had me once again at war with myself. How I longed to just… I stop myself, realizing that Rachel was probably not interest in THAT kind of research.
Waverly: We actually found some interesting stuff about the Svane family who owned a lot of properties in Purgatory, including the Glory Hole before it was bought by Bobo del Rey.
I hear Rachel snicker.
Rachel: Who the hell names their kid Bobo? He sounds like a Care Bear.
I can't help but smile at the accuracy of that. But it does have me curious, so I type the Bobo into the search engine on my phone. The first thing that pops up has my mind spinning a mile a minute.
Bobo — derived from the name Bob, a common nickname for Robert.
My phone buzzing breaks my revelation momentarily.
Rachel: Back to class that fast again huh? You guys are such nerds.
Waverly: No, I think I actually might have found something. Do you want to help with the research?
Rachel: Sure, why not.
Waverly: Alright, meet us at the barn after class.
After Rachel confirms she will be there I search my contacts for Nicole Haught. Realizing I don't have her number, I open the MatchMe app for the first time in a week.
Angelgirl08: Hey. I think I might have found something. Can you meet me at the barn this afternoon when school is done?
Haught(givemea)shot: Sure thing, Waves xxx
I feel unguarded excitement thrumming through me for the first time in years. Perhaps if I can help figure out who took Rachel's mom, then maybe I can find atonement for what I did. These hopeful thoughts run through my mind as I return my attention to the remainder of the lesson on my laptop.
