Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) - By Dan Rix Page 0,48
rested in the morning.”
“Get sleep while you can,” said his dad, winking. “You’ll be up all night tomorrow.”
They both smiled at him, doing their best to act like he was normal, exactly like any other seventeen-year-old on the eve of his birthday—about to experience the best day of his life. It wasn’t that easy, though.
Other parents spent months and thousands of dollars on their kids’ eighteenth birthdays. But with all the MRIs and visits to the doctor, no one had time to prepare for Aaron’s birthday. Here he was twelve hours from his appointment without a suit to his name, and all they could do was smile at him.
Though his intestines felt like they were being threaded through a needle, he managed to focus on Amber, on a final glimmer of hope. And as soon as his parents went to bed, he hurried out to his car.
***
The muddy sky had begun drizzling, and warm, oily droplets sprayed his cheeks.
His Mazda sputtered, caught, then lugged him up the street. Houses slunk by, dark as specters, and the liquid on his windshield glowed neon from their porch lights. The hulk of Mission Ridge loomed ahead of him, crowned with a strip of golden lights—Loma Sierra drive.
Amber’s house.
She was Clive’s half. Aaron counted raindrops, straining to numb the sting in his heart, but it was hopeless. He clutched the steering wheel and squeezed the color from his knuckles. At the game, Amber said they had known since childhood.
Pain exploded in his right arm, making him wince, and he watched as fresh blood soaked the gauze. The salty stench of an open wound coiled up his nostrils. But the pain was nothing compared to the rage and envy gnawing in his gut.
But Amber had lied before. In fact, she always lied. Aaron downshifted and sank his foot to the floor. No one knew their half before their birthday.
The sleek blue body of Mr. Lilian’s corvette glistened in the rain. Aaron braked too late and plowed into its bumper. He cringed, jumped out of his car, and assessed the damage. Flakes of paint floated in the puddle between their cars. He leaned closer. Blue paint—thank God.
Amber didn’t pick up her phone, so Aaron scooped up a handful of gravel, snuck around back, and trudged up a muddy hill until he was directly under her balcony—he hoped. Then he chucked pebbles against the sliding glass doors. It was absurd.
He heard a gasp, followed by a splash. But not from the balcony. The noise came from the hillside, from close by, from within arm’s reach—
“Aaron?” It was Amber’s voice. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness under the balcony, they focused on the wall right in front of him, where she stood inexplicably in polka dot pajama bottoms, rain boots, and an open hunting jacket. She was also holding a rake, sort of how you’d hold a baseball bat—
“Were you about to hit me?” he said.
“I should have,” she muttered, reluctantly lowering the rake.
He looked her up and down. “And this is how you dress when I’m not around.”
“You sound excited.”
Then he noticed the plastic bin in a puddle at her feet, spilling cans and cardboard boxes into the mud.
“Taking out the trash?” he said, unable to prevent himself from smirking.
“Recycling,” she said.
“No servants?”
Amber stepped in close, and he could see her eyelashes fluttering in the rain. “You just think I’m too pretty to be doing this kind of stuff.”
“Makes no difference,” he said.
“So you’re admitting it?” she said.
“It didn’t get you out of chores, did it?”
“Aaron, why are you here?” she said with a hint of impatience. Droplets sparkled in her hair, dripped off, and ran down her nose. The humidity brought out her smell, intensified it.
“Because you’re lying about Clive,” he said finally.
“And you’re sneaking around in the middle of the night outside my bedroom,” she said. “Want me to tell my dad?”
“Go. I’ll wait right here,” said Aaron. “It’s about time he and I had a word.”
“Fine. Don’t move.” She turned to leave, but Aaron grabbed her arm and tugged her to face him.
“Tell me you’re not his half,” he said.
Amber’s eyes were luminous as they scanned his face. “Why do you care, Aaron? It’s not like you wanted to be my half.”
“So this is about last night then?” he said.
“When you broke my heart? Maybe,” she said.
“I liked you better when you didn’t listen to me.”
“And I liked you better before you started trying to protect me,” she said. “Because you can’t.”