Traveler (Traveler #1)(8)
He seems annoyed, too. “Don’t act like you don’t know me, Jessa.”
“I don’t know you. I just met you!”
“I’m not trying to make you uneasy,” he says calmly. “I’m here for a very good reason, and if you’ll just hear me out—”
“I can’t talk right now,” I say, gesturing back at Danny. “I’m playing soccer with my brother.”
“Hi!” Finn says, raising his hand to wave at Danny.
“Hi!” Danny waves back.
“Stay away from him,” I warn.
“I’m only saying hello. I thought he might be worried, since you seem like you’re arguing with me.”
“I am arguing with you. I want you to leave, and you won’t go.”
“Jessa…” He lowers his voice, and there’s a sense of urgency in it. “I was sent here to warn you.”
I look at him like he’s nuts. Because he is. “Warn me?”
“You’re in danger,” he says. “And I want you to—”
I’m shaking my head as he’s talking because I don’t want to hear this. And I definitely don’t want Danny to hear this.
“You need to leave.” My voice is firm, but he keeps going.
“Please—Jessa. I’m not joking. You have to believe me.”
“The only one who’s causing me any problems here is you,” I say. “Now leave.”
“Jessa?”
Danny is walking over now. Great.
“Leave,” I repeat.
Finn shakes his head. “You have to listen to me.”
“Just go!” I’ve had it. I hit him with the soccer ball right in the chest, and hard. It ricochets off and rolls behind me.
“Bad manners, Jessa,” Danny says, scooping up the ball. He tosses it to me, and I’m so flustered, it drops. Finn and I go for it at the same time, and we straighten up together. He’s looking down at me and both our hands are on the ball, and for a moment, I feel such déjà vu my head swims with it.
“How do I know you, Finn? Really?”
“I can explain everything,” he says softly. “Just give me a chance.”
Danny trots up next to me. “You need to say sorry,” he chides.
I roll my eyes, mostly because Finn is looking at me in a very smug way that makes me itch to hit him with the soccer ball again.
“Yes, Danny. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You hit him with the ball,” Danny reminds me.
“Yes, I did.”
“Yes, you did,” says Finn, clearly enjoying my brother pointing out my transgressions.
“You’re in trouble, Jessa,” Danny adds. “You’re in trouble, Jessa Emeline St. Clair.”
I groan audibly.
“Emeline?” Finn is smirking now.
“That’s her trouble name,” Danny supplies. “Jessa Emeline St. Clair.”
Finn raises his eyebrows, so I explain. “Whenever my mom used to get really mad at us when we were kids, she’d use all three of our names. The dreaded ‘triple name.’ You had to really be in trouble if she used it.”
“Emeline.” He’s nodding to himself, as if he thinks it suits me somehow, which irks me to no end.
“So what’s your middle name?” I ask him. “Irving? Hubert? Darth?”
He shakes his head. “I’m just Finn. Nothing else.”
“No middle name?”
“No middle name.”
“Finn is his trouble name?” Danny asks.
I clutch the soccer ball, scowling in a threatening manner at Finn’s smug face.
“Yes, Danny. Finn means trouble.”
I grab Danny’s arm and promise him popcorn to get him into the house. I don’t look back at Finn. I spend the next hour trying to forget his words and the way he looked down at me, and how incredibly long his lashes were.
Danny is right. Finn means trouble.
5
Autumn Memory
“You sleeping over, St. Clair?”
“What?” I look up from my journal to see Ben standing over me.
“Are you staying here all night? Class is over.”
We’d been doing project presentations about colonial living in AP US History class, and once mine was done, I’d pulled out my journal and tried to muddle through the mess in my brain that belonged to Finn. It isn’t working. I slam the journal shut.
“So what did you think?” I ask Ben as we walk to the door.
“What—your presentation?”
I make a face. “Was it boring?”
“Better than NyQuil,” he teases. “I could barely keep my eyes open.”
“Why did I pick agriculture?” I gripe. “What an absolute turd of an idea.”
I’m almost through the door when Mr. Draper stops me.
“Don’t forget your project, Jessa,” he reminds me.
“Can I leave it here till the end of the day? My locker is pretty full.”
Mr. Draper shakes his head apologetically. “I need the room on the table for the next class. Sorry.”
I give him a tight smile. “It’s fine. I’ll take it.”