Sempre (Forever Series #1)(12)
Vincent shot him a disapproving look. “You can’t judge, given the company you keep.”
“True, but I’m not exactly role model material, am I? Would you want me doing the shopping?”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “You’d come home with underwear no bigger than dental floss.”
“And you think Jen won’t? She doesn’t even wear underwear.”
Vincent glared at him. “Aren’t you late for school?”
“Whatever.”
He turned to walk away, but his father called after him. “If you really want to make it up to me, there’s something you can do.”
Carmine glanced back at him. “What?”
“Stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll try, but I’m pretty sure wreaking havoc is in my genes, Dad.”
* * *
An hour and a half later, Carmine waltzed into his second period classroom and disrupted the American history teacher, Mrs. Anderson, in the middle of a lecture. She smiled curtly. “Mr. DeMarco, you’re just in time to give your presentation on the Battle of Gettysburg.”
He groaned, having forgotten all about them having oral presentations today. She motioned toward the front of the room, and he begrudgingly took his place as she sat behind her desk. “You can begin any time.”
“Uh, the battle happened in Pennsylvania. It was, like, 1800s.”
Mrs. Anderson corrected him, “1863.”
“Yeah, what she said. General Lee led his army up from the South; they met the North in Gettysburg. A bunch of people died on both sides, hundreds of thousands.”
“Tens of thousands.”
“Same difference,” he said. “The South lost and the North won. Abraham Lincoln came and gave the Emancipation Proclamation.”
“The Gettysburg Address,” Mrs. Anderson said. “The Emancipation Proclamation was delivered six months before the battle.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Who’s giving the report here?”
She waved her hand. “Proceed.”
“Like I said, the North won. The slaves were all freed. Hurrah, hurrah. The end.”
He bowed jokingly, and everyone laughed as Mrs. Anderson shook her head. “Did you even read the material?”
“Of course I did.”
“Who was the leader of the North?”
“Lincoln.”
“No, he was the president.”
“Yes, which means he was the f**king leader of everyone.”
Mrs. Anderson’s face clouded with anger. Oops. “You won’t use that language in my classroom.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he said. “I thought I already did.”
A collective gasp resonated among his classmates as Mrs. Anderson stood, and Carmine started toward the door before the words could come from her mouth. “Principal’s office,” he muttered, mocking her at the same time she said it.
In no rush to see the principal again, Carmine headed out of a side exit, going for his car in the student parking lot instead.
* * *
The house was silent when Carmine made it home. He headed to the third floor and paused at the top of the stairs. In the library, in the same spot she’d been hours earlier, stood Haven. She stared out into the backyard with a vacant expression, her arms wrapped around her chest.
He cleared his throat to get her attention, and she flinched but didn’t look his way. After a moment, he strolled over and stood beside her. Her body grew rigid as she held her breath, tension rolling off of her when their arms brushed together. The simple contact wouldn’t have registered with him if not for her reaction. “Have you even moved today?”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but no more words came. It wasn’t until then that he realized she had on his shirt and pants, vaguely recalling his father taking them from his room. “You’re wearing my clothes.”
Carmine didn’t think it was possible, but she managed to grow tenser. “I can take them off.”
He stifled a laugh. “You’re offering to take off your clothes for me?”
“Your clothes. I have none of my own.”
And just like that, she made him feel a twinge of guilt. She’d have had clothes if he had done what his father asked. “What happened to whatever you came here in?”
“They were bloody, so Dr. DeMarco got rid of them.”
“Whose blood?”
“Mine.”
He tilted his head and stared at her. There was something strange about the way she stood motionless but still managed to seem like she was fidgeting. It made him uneasy.
“Keep the clothes,” he said, wanting away from her to clear his head. He didn’t like feeling uncomfortable in his house. “I’m gonna take a nap, Heaven.”
“Haven,” she corrected him.
“I know,” he said. “I kinda like Heaven, though.”
She turned to him, their eyes meeting for the first time since he’d walked in. “Me, too.”
* * *
Despite Carmine’s fierce protectiveness over his belongings, he wasn’t careful about what he did with things. His bedroom was cluttered, everything haphazardly strewn around the floor. Shoes were scattered among heaps of dirty clothes, his hamper sitting empty in the corner of the room. His desk was covered with papers and books, a laptop buried somewhere in the mess.