The Rush (The Siren Series)

CHAPTER Twenty-Seven



The next morning was a blur of emotional dysfunction. I didn’t want to stay home where my mother was lurking, but school seemed like not the answer. Still, I went.

Even though I knew I could still sit with Chase and his friends, it seemed like such a heartless thing to do. I didn’t mind remaining friends with Chase, and I apparently couldn’t get rid of Ryder and Phoenix, but the day after we ended it, seemed a little sudden to flaunt that in his face.

So after a morning of mindless classes I found myself wandering around the band room. I used to come here a lot, before Sam. Well, and during Sam. There are never any classes over the lunch period in this wing of the building, so it’s nice and quiet. But there is a hallway off the tiered band room filled with practice rooms and those are occupied a lot over lunch.

I love the muffled sounds of all the different instruments colliding in the hallway. The sounds individually could be beautiful, or strained or awful, but together, in the hallway they were complete chaos. It’s how I pictured the definition of “cacophony.” Not that I said that word often, but still, this hall was what a cacophony of sound…. sounded like.

But today everything was silent and still. I was alone. Which seemed fitting, since in my head I was anything but alone.

I walked all the way to the end of the hallway where it ran into a brick wall and entered the last small practice room without a sound. There was a piano set up on the far wall, and one extra chair besides the piano bench with a metal music stand in front of it.

I contemplated calling Exie or Sloane and opening up about how unhinged my mom was, but they had their own maternal problems. Besides I wasn’t really sure what to do with it all. She had never been the most in-touch mom, especially lately. But she had never hit me before.

I shivered in the damp room and let the silence wash over me. It was so loud, so deafeningly quiet that my ears rushed with the absence of sound and my skin felt physically oppressed by it.

Suddenly I couldn’t take it anymore, the soundlessness, the thoughts in my head, none of it. I yanked the piano bench back and slammed my body down. My fingers were flying up and down the keyboard before I could catch my breath.

Loud, pounding melodies that were meant to be sweet and slow, or fast, feverish classical pieces that I butchered until they were unrecognizable even to my ears. I pushed my fingers into aching numbness. My back stiff and my neck pained. Still I ferociously attacked the piano until I was sweating and exhausted.

Finally, out of breath, I slumped back and dropped my hands to my lap.

“Frustrated?” a gravelly voice came from behind me.

I screamed in response, completely surprised. I whirled around on the bench, the smooth wood making it easy to spin around and face Ryder.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped. My heart still beat frantically in my chest and my hands flew to my hair which I knew was disheveled and frizzy.

“Looking for you,” he said simply. His eyes swept over me with something hidden in them. He made me nervous. There was something different about him today, even from last night. Something I couldn’t place. Like he was lighter today, weighed less or something. But not in pounds… like he wasn’t tied down to gravity today, like he would just float away at any given moment.

And at the same time he was more intense, more…. intent with me.

“So you had to scare the bejeezus out of me?” I demanded. I slipped my hands under my thighs and rocked forward so that my hair covered my flushed face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Ivy,” he said patiently. “Sorry. It’s not like I snuck up on you or anything, you were just making a lot of noise.”

I laughed a little hysterically. And then it turned into more laughter. Good grief, maybe I was the one that was unhinged.

Ryder walked over to me and held out his hands. I retrieved mine from under my thighs and slipped them into his and let him pull me up. We were just inches apart when I was standing, our bodies so close together I could feel the heat from his chest and then his minty breath fan over my hairline.

“Someone’s here to see you. They’re in the office,” he explained.

“Is it my mom?” I asked in a small voice. I could just imagine what she was doing here trying to pull me out of school. And then panic set in, what if she was here to take me to Nix. What if I ran out of chances and last night was the final nail in my coffin?

Oh, no.

“No, it’s not your mom,” Ryder answered.

“Is it Nix?” I whispered, full hysteria setting in.

“No, it’s not. I’m not sure who it is. Tanner just caught me in the hall and asked me to find you since you weren’t in class yet.” Ryder must have seen something in my eyes because his grip on my hands tightened. “Ivy, are you Ok? Are you expecting someone?”

“No, I’m not,” I tried to relax. If it wasn’t my mom or Nix, I had no idea who it could be, especially who would come visit me at school. But as long as it wasn’t one of them, I felt a little bit safer.

“Ready then?” He asked, although he made no effort to move away from me.

“Sure,” I nodded my head and he finally stepped back.

As we left the still empty music hall I asked, “How did you know I would be back there?”

“I didn’t. I looked everywhere else I could think of first and called your cell. I actually thought maybe you decided to ditch today. But then I remembered you took all that sheet music, so I thought maybe you went to practice, since you weren’t at lunch.”

“Oh.”

“But you weren’t… uh, practicing.” Ryder slanted his gaze at me, taking me in, all of me in, in just a quick sweeping gesture, but still my skin felt hot from his attention.

“No, I forgot about the sheet music, honestly. I was, um, it’s like therapy,” I admitted. “I was expressing some frustrations.”

“No kidding,” Ryder chuckled. “I hope they’re not all about the band. Because we’ll take this slow. I don’t expect you to play like next week. And seriously, Ivy, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” I was surprised by my own conviction. My mom would kill me if she knew I was in Ryder’s band. It was Ok to spend time with any kind of boy. And technically it was Ok to go to concerts, although my mother might have disapproved of what I wore. But it was in no way Ok to associate myself with a boy band. Or any kind of band. My talents were strictly cultivated to enhance my beauty and nothing more.

Gag.

“I want you to, too,” Ryder admitted.

“Hey are you alright?” I asked, intuition niggling in my stomach.

“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” Ryder asked softly.

“I don’t know,” I admitted with honest humor. “I just had this feeling that you needed to talk. But maybe I was wrong.”

Ryder stopped in front of the office door and turned around to look at me. He ran a hand through his hair but paused half way through with his elbow suspended straight up in the air and his head dipped as if he were deep in thought.

“Maybe I do need to talk,” he started and I could tell he was nervous.

“Ok,” I whispered, probably more nervous than him.

“Um, Ok,” Ryder took a deep breath, and then blew it out slowly. “Kenna and I, we, uh-“

“Ivy, get in here,” Mrs. Tanner’s shrill voice broke through the spell Ryder placed on me. “They are waiting for you! What on Earth are you doing out here? Ryder Sutton, get to class right now before I write you up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryder smiled dutifully, gave Mrs. Tanner a playful salute and then squeezed my bicep before leaving me alone with the wicked witch of the west.

“Principal Costas is waiting for you in his office,” Mrs. Tanner explained with as much disgust and impatience as any one human being was capable of.

“Thanks, T-dog.” Not because I thought I was clever, only because it would annoy the ever living hell out of her and that was one of my main goals in life.

“And Ivy?” Mrs. Tanner called right before I reached Principal’s Costas’s office door.

“Ryder’s a good kid, with a strong future ahead of him. He doesn’t need the likes of you poisoning his life.” When I remained calm and still, she pressed, “Do you understand?”

“More than you know,” I mumbled, feeling the poison she referred to spreading from my heart out, to every living part of me.

She made a feminine grunting sound but didn’t push the issue further. So I raised my hand and knocked on the Principal’s door. Antonio Costas was one of the youngest principals in Omaha. Early thirties with a young family and a reputation for being a hardass with heart, the parents of Central adored him.

He in turn, being male and notwithstanding Ryder’s super powers, adored me. Where other students were asked to face their consequences head on, or make mature choices, I was disciplined with swats on the hand and threats to call my mother that he never followed through with.

Not that he minded calling my mother. Please, he was male after all. And she was…. my mother. But I tried to spare him the embarrassment of groveling at her feet since he had snot nosed toddlers and a high school sweetheart waiting for him at home every night.

Not that he was an unfaithful man. It wasn’t his fault.

He was actually a really good guy and because I couldn’t blame him for his reaction to my mom or me, I respected him.

Principal Costas opened the door and greeted me with a huge smile. “Hi, Ivy, I’m glad you could finally join us.”

“Thanks,” I returned the smile. My eyes fell immediately to the guest in his office, a woman I didn’t know.

I followed Principal Costas into the office and swallowed back a lump of nerves when he closed the door behind him. He was a good looking guy for a teacher, young; in shape with tanned, golden skin by birth. But his most attractive feature was the confident happiness he evoked. He was always pleasant and kind, but there was an air about him that made you certain you never wanted to disappoint him.

Principal Costas gestured to the remaining vacant chair in his dated, but well-maintained office. I sat down next to the mystery woman and shot her an uncertain glance.

“Ivy, I’d like you to meet Mallory Hunter,” Costas explained.

I smiled at the attractive blonde in her early thirties. She was wearing a sharp, black skirt suit and screamed polished hardass. Her returning smile was tight, but there was a soft pity about her expression I didn’t entirely understand.

“Ms. Hunter is a lawyer on behalf of your father’s estate, as I understand,” Costas explained. “Smith Porter called earlier this morning to arrange this meeting. I am going to give you time to…. talk.”

Principal Costas put a reassuring hand on my shoulder and then left his office quietly. I gulped back some awkward nervousness and then shifted so I could face Mallory Hunter head on.

“Hi, Ivy,” she greeted soothingly. She held a folder in her lap, and there was an expensive brief case at her feet.

“Hi,” I said simply and then curiosity got the better of me. “Do you work for Jared?” Jared T. Artero was the lawyer in charge of my father’s estate and my trust. We talked every year around Christmas time, he because he was my father’s friend as well as legal advice and he liked to make sure I was Ok, and me because I liked to make sure my money was Ok.

“Not exactly,” she smiled brighter and I could see that it was her method of placating me. “I’m here on behalf of Smith Porter. Actually I work for the sister firm of Arnold, Terkoff and Blane. My firm is Hastle and Crimmens, but Catarina Arnold is my mentor.”

“Ok, so I’m really confused,” I grimaced. What did she just say?

“Catarina Arnold is employed by Mr. Porter, she is also my boss…. indirectly. As I understand this, your situation is very…. precarious. Smith brought me in to ensure nothing could be directly linked back to him, Catarina or Jared.”

“Ah.” Well, Ok, that made sense. And if my mom ever started asking questions I would just have Mallory recite that entire jumble of words. She would be confused immediately.

“I’ve met you here, because I understand your home life is…. intense?” Mallory had this way of punching her point. She would pause dramatically and then say her point with enthusiastic curiosity. I bet her tactic worked well with indecisive juries. “Smith has expressed concern that you might be facing abuse. As you know if you are in verifiable danger, it is possible for you to acquire the full amount of your trust early. Verifiable danger can be defined as any kind of abuse, emotional, physical or verbal with recorded evidence or life-threatening circumstances that you are capable of involving the police or FBI in. Can you claim either of these conditions?”

My mother slapping me flew to the forefront of my mind, but then again it wasn’t that awful. It was just a slap. It wasn’t like I had to be rushed to the emergency room or anything. The mark was completely gone by morning, no evidence or scars left behind. What did verbal abuse even mean? My mother was harsh at times, callous and unfeeling always, but was that actual abuse? Had I suffered anything that could be proven in the court of law other than a messed up sense of reality and unrealistic expectations?

“I don’t have anything I can prove,” I finally admitted. “I’m not even sure Smith is entirely justified in involving you. There’s no abuse happening in my life.”

Not yet anyway. And by that time I’ll be eighteen, I’ll be an adult. So it won’t matter.

“I was afraid of this,” Mallory’s face filled with more pity. “Smith and Catarina are very good friends of mine. I’ve taken this case as a favor to them. And I’m working with Jared, who seems to share some of the same concerns as Smith. Unlike Smith, Jared respects your mother, thinks the world of her actually, but he has shared some of your father’s dying words and I understand why Jared feels the way he does.”

My father’s dying words? What did that mean?

I opened my mouth to ask, but she continued. “There might not be anything to share with me now. There might never be. But I don’t think Smith would have gone to all these lengths if there wasn’t something going on.”

After several moments of charged silence I finally settled on, “You’re right. I can’t prove anything, but I need my trust early. I need it now.”

“Alright, then that’s what we will work on. I won’t call you, or contact you in any way other than here at school. And I’ll visit again in a month. If you can record anything you think is useful on your phone. Or if anything happens take a picture of it immediately. If…. conditions worsen for you, get ahold of Smith immediately. Does that work for you?” She raked her eyes over me in a way that screamed I was her client and nothing else. Pity maybe? But there was no sympathy behind Mallory Hunter’s expression.

Still it was obvious she kicked ass in court.

“Yes, that works for me,” I agreed feeling like I was signing away something very precious. Like my soul.

Which was ridiculous. If anything, staying was so much worse than leaving for that same thing.

“Alright, then. Ivy, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch,” she stood then and stretched out her hand. I echoed every movement and then bit back a smile at her firm handshake.

She was just so…. professional.

“Thank you, Mallory,” I gushed not meaning to. I actually meant to return the professional air of civility, but suddenly I found myself near tears. Partly because Smith had disregarded everything I said. But mostly because there was hope that I hadn’t felt in a really long time. Hope I hadn’t felt in maybe ever.