Ink and Bone(69)

Her hair was longer then, an impossibly thick jet-black mop around her shoulders. She didn’t have any ink, just a row of piercings in her right ear. It wasn’t anything physical: not her snowy skin, or the perfect curve of her ass, or the beautiful swell of her breasts. Something about her called away a piece of him, and it floated through the air and she breathed it in, and it was forever lost to her. Loving her was like trying to get that piece of himself back, a deliciously pleasant, totally lost cause.

“Miss Montgomery,” said Mrs. Patchett that day. The gym teacher was affectionately known among the badly behaved of Roosevelt High School as Miz Hatchet. “What are we in for today?”

“Tardiness,” said Finley quietly. A couple of the girls in the front row laughed. Even among the misfits, she was a misfit.

“Take a seat,” said Miz Hatchet. “No phones, music, video or e-books. Homework only. Or quiet reflection on what brought you here in the first place. In your case, tardiness. You might do some thinking about what your being late means to others.”

Rainer watched Finley walk up the aisle, a big pack over her shoulder, a notebook clutched to her chest, willing her to sit where he could watch her. She picked the seat over by the window, took out her notebook and textbook and proceeded to do what looked like algebra homework. The rest of the losers just sat, staring outside or discreetly texting each other. Miz Hatchet pretended not to notice, staring at her own phone.

School motto: What I am to be, I am now becoming. Rainer wasn’t sure what that meant. It sounded more like a threat than a promise. He was in detention for smoking out behind the gym when he should have been in class—but every week it was something else. Last week it was for arguing with a teacher. The week before he’d smashed a locker, pissed about something. A typical (for him) bad temper moment, where everything just crowded in on him and he needed to bust out of it all. What had he been mad about? A test he’d failed even though he’d studied hard? A comment that annoyed him? Someone knocking into him in the hallway? He honestly didn’t even remember.

He was failing or barely passing every class, except for art. The only thing he cared about was ink, helping his dad with his gigs at night (unloading and setting up equipment, then taking it down again and partying in the meantime), getting laid by the band groupies (who would have thought a middle-aged Aerosmith cover band would have young, hot groupies?), scoring the occasional joint. He wasn’t sure whether a high school diploma was going to be of much use to someone like him. He already made more with his dad than most people made working some shit nine-to-five job, and his apprenticeship at the tattoo shop was nearly done. And then he could make some real money, once he had his own clients. Would it matter that he was getting a D in algebra?

He’d thought about just getting his GED. But his dad wanted him to stay in school, said dropping out was the biggest mistake he ever made. So Rainer agreed to try to graduate. Don’t just graduate, son. Learn something.

Rainer couldn’t keep his eyes off of her that first day. He wondered how it was that he’d never seen her before—but of course they were in different classes, and he cut as much as he came to school. He had his sketchbook out and abandoned his drawing to try to get her profile—fine, high cheekbones, a cute little upturn to her nose. Big doe eyes, moppy black hair. She was like an anime princess. He found himself thinking impure thoughts. Then she turned and looked at him, right through him, as though she knew everything in his head. She smiled, a very bad girl, but still kind of a sweet little smile.

He looked away, but her spell was cast. That was four years ago. She was in him, under his skin—even when she tried to leave him, he couldn’t let her go. Even though he figured that she was probably better off without him, he still followed her.

That’s not love, she told him. That’s control. Different things, Rain. Really different.

Now, she was moving toward the door, taking her jacket off the hook. Where was she going tonight? He’d followed her all sorts of places when she was like this.

“I’ll drive,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said.

Outside, a light snow had started to fall. It was too early for that, wasn’t it? He’d seen the news, a big storm coming. But he thought it was the usual hype. And truly it didn’t look like much.

“Where are we going?” he asked. The engine rumbled to life. He was always a little amazed when it did.

“To the lake house,” she said. Her voice was dreamy, her eyes blank. She wasn’t sleepwalking, not quite.

“Where’s that?” he asked gently.

“Drive out of town,” she said. “North toward the mountains.”

He did what she said, turned when she told him to turn, and finally they came upon a sign that said CLARABEL’S LAKE HOUSE.

“Turn here,” she said.

He took the long drive and wound up before a dark house. No lights on inside or out. She climbed out of the car and moved purposefully around back. He followed, shivering in his tee-shirt and light jacket. She moved past the dock and up a small path until they were at a trailhead.

“He took her up this way.”

Rainer knew that this had something to do with the case she was working on with Jones Cooper, the maps she’d shown him that night, the mines he hadn’t wanted her to visit. Eloise and Cooper might have talked sense into Finley’s brain. But whoever was she when she was like this? That chick didn’t listen to anyone.