CHAPTER NINE
School wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be, when she went back a week later after Zach deemed her “healed”—at least, on the outside—although teachers and students alike remarked on Lindsey’s sudden, subdued nature. She also heard them talking behind her back about the sudden appearance of jeans without holes ripped through in the seat and tops that actually covered her midriff.
They’d gone back to her house briefly to gather some of her clothes and things—she made sure both cars were gone before they chanced it-but after reviewing the wardrobe she’d chosen to throw into the big white garbage bag they carried out to the Camaro, Zach insisted on taking her to the mall to do some shopping. And when she went, out of habit, to look for a tube top to wear to school that first day, she couldn’t even find one in the drawers Zach had cleared for her to use-her new clothes were folded neatly, button-down shirts and crisp new jeans—but all of her old clothes had disappeared.
Zach, of course, feigned innocence, even when she pummeled his back with her fists and pinched his sides, insisting, “You do so know where they are!” He just laughed, shrugged, and gathered her up, still fighting, to kiss her quiet.
So she felt like a complete geek that first day, and even considered ripping out the seat of her jeans-but the guilt of knowing how much Zach had charged on his credit card for their little shopping trip kept her from actually taking scissors from the office to the bathroom with her to go through with her little plan. She even resisted the temptation to unbutton the bottom of her shirt and tie it up high under her breasts.
Instead, she sat quietly in her seat and pretended she was impervious to the stares and the whispers and the double-takes, even from the teachers. There was only another week left of school, anyway. For Zach, she could endure that long. That’s what she told herself, and when she walked home every day—his apartment was in easy walking distance from school—letting herself in with the key he’d had made at the local hardware store and even starting dinner before he got home, she knew just from the light, easy way she could breathe, the absence of dread, that it was true.
The only thing looming was Zach’s upcoming deployment, and she tried her best not to think about it. That, and the nightmares, which had started after that first night, and had continued, at least once a night, since. Sometimes she woke him with her panic and he would hold her, but mostly she trembled beside him in the dark, eyes wide, the sheets wet with her sweat, staring up at the ceiling and remembering while he slept beside her, oblivious. If Zach had known, he would have been angry, of course, and insisted she wake him. But she wouldn’t. If nothing else, she had learned to keep things to herself.
Although, with Zach, that talent was fading—keeping things from him was getting harder and harder. Her emotions seemed to spill over when he was around, no matter what she did. Like when they saw Brian in the Sav-Way while they were grocery shopping.
“So what do you want for graduation?” Zach asked, taking out the powdered donuts she’d put into the basket and replacing them with a loaf of wheat bread.
Lindsey sighed, eyeing the little chocolate ones instead. “A diploma.”
“Don’t even think about it.” He took the donut box from the hand behind her back, putting them back on the shelf. “I meant besides a diploma.” She followed him down the aisle with a shrug. “I don’t know. Got another Camaro lying around?”
He snorted, steering the cart around the corner. “Okay, something bigger than a diploma, but smaller than a Camaro.”
Lindsey didn’t really hear him. Brian was stocking laundry detergent on the end cap, his head down as he moved the inventory from box to shelf. He hadn’t seen her, but she knew he would the minute he glanced up. Zach steered the cart around him, apologizing, and she told herself to move, to follow, to pretend, but she her body was frozen in place. She didn’t know how they’d avoided each other so far-her computer lab was right next to his English class-but they had. Until now.
“Lindsey?” Zach called her name, and the sound of it brought Brian’s head up like a shot, his eyes wide. Zach’s face scrunched in concern at her expression, but she couldn’t hide it, her gaze dipping down to meet Brian’s startled one.
“Hi, Brian.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Hi.” His response came in almost a whisper, his face paling even more as Zach maneuvered the cart back toward them.
“Someone you know?” Zach inquired, his smile tight as he glanced down at the kid in the red vest stocking shelves. Lindsey didn’t have any idea what to say.
“From school.” Brian stood quickly—the top of his head didn’t even come to Zach’s shoulder—and held out a hand to Zach, who shook it. “I’m Brian. Lindsey and I had chem together last year.”
“Right,” Lindsey agreed with a nod, noting Zach’s preoccupied and calculating expression. She didn’t want to give him that much time to think about it. “See you Monday?”
“Sure.” Brian kept sneaking looks up at Zach, and he looked more than a little scared. Lindsey wondered if she had a similar look on her face-she felt like she did, and like Brian, she just couldn’t help it. “See ya Monday.” Lindsey slipped between them and tugged at the front edge of the cart, leading Zach toward the next aisle-frozen foods, including ice cream, the perfect distraction.
“Moose Tracks?” She opened one of the glass doors, the cool blast of air over her too-warm face a relief. She grabbed a quart of ice cream, holding it up for Zach to see. “Please? Pretty please?”
“That’s Neapolitan.” Zach took it from her, putting it back on the shelf and grabbing a carton with antlers on it. “What was that about?”
“Must have been having bad flashbacks to elementary school birthday parties,” she joked, tugging on the cart again.
“Not the ice cream-that kid back there.” Zach’s grip on the cart now made it impossible to move.
She sighed, giving up the tug of war, and told him part of the truth. “Just a guy I used to hang out with… before.”
“Hang out?” He raised his eyebrows, already knowing.
She rolled her eyes, taking advantage of the moment to tug the cart again. “Don’t make me say it, okay?”
He gave in, moving along with the cart. “You sure that’s all?”
“Waffles!” Lindsey pulled Eggos out of the freezer with a grin, another distraction.
Zach put them back. “If you want waffles, I’ll make you real waffles.”
“You promise?”
He nudged her with the cart. “How about waffles on graduation day?”
“I have to wait a week for waffles?” She pouted.
“Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for.”
She didn’t respond to that, but she flushed, accepting the kiss he put on the top of her head as he piled the cart with frozen vegetables and then headed toward the checkout. Lindsey snuck a pack of gum and a box of Tic-Tacs onto the conveyor belt and Zach didn’t notice until the last second, when the cashier, a blonde with a nose ring, held it up and asked, “Do you want these left out?”
“Thanks!” Lindsey snagged them, giving Zach a grin before slipping them into her jeans pocket. He shook his head, but forked over his credit card without any reprimand and signed his name in a quick scrawl.
“Quarter.” She held out her hand as they neared the machines, their fat glass jars revealing all sorts of cheap treasure, their red-painted tops screaming, “Stop here!” Zach dug into his front jeans pocket, pulling out the required coin. “Which one this time?”
“Let’s try fancy jewelry.” Lindsey slid the quarter into the slot and turned the knob, hearing the gears inside click, loving the sound of the little plastic tub hitting the metal door.