Fun and Games Act 4, Scene 2

Here we are, friends.  My next installment of FUN AND GAMES WITH K & K. 

Enjoy!!

Harper sucked in a sharp breath, forced a bright smile to her lips, and shrugged. “With a name like that, you kinda have to be. Right?” She reached into her purse and tossed a wad of bills out onto the tabletop. “I’m going to run to the music store while you’re finishing up. I need some strings and more rosin.” Before Grace could argue or at least ask her friend to wait while she waved to the waitress for the check, Harper launched to her feet and hurried away.


Recognizing that maybe it was better to get a little space between them, Grace heaved out a sigh and watched her friend march determinedly toward the music store. She really needed to get to the bottom of things, but how? She cast a quick glance over to where Mr. Haas was laughing merrily with Bambi, but right then, nerves outweighed anger. Until she knew exactly what happened with Harper, she really couldn’t go spouting off on the teacher…at least not without help.

Thinking of Owen, she started to slip her phone out of her purse but stopped herself. What would she say to him? In all honestly, she’d barreled right over him last night, announcing that she was going to get to the bottom of things, that if there was anything worth finding out, she would be the one to do so. She gave herself a mental shake. This was not the time to be thinking of herself. Harper was the important one right now. She’d do well to remember that. Now, if only her friend would cooperate.

Grace poked at her food, the chicken no longer so appetizing. Harper wanted space; she’d give it to her. For now. But, in the next moment, she spied Owen strolling into the music store, and her mind was made up. Flagging down the waitress, she asked for the check, now in a rush to get to the store, and iron this out once and for all.

Inside the small shop, surrounded by all things musical, Harper was in her element. Lost in the only world that made sense to her anymore, she didn’t hear the footsteps shuffling up behind her until hot breath sailed across her skin. Panic spearing through her, she whirled around, the beginnings of a shrill scream bounding up to the tip of her tongue.

“Whoa,” he chuckled softly, hands in the air in an I-come-in-peace gesture as he took a step back. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She shook her head, scooting a little further away from him, putting another reassuring foot between them. “No problem,” she replied, carefully, eyes wide and frightened even though she kept repeating to herself that everything was alright. Not every guy was the bogey man. “It was my fault, really. I was daydreaming.”

Something about him kept her from being completely rude and running from him. It’s his eyes, she thought. They’re the exact same shade and shape as Owen’s. She shook herself. How she could even think about a boy now was beyond her. Men were the enemy…right? But, Owen’s my friend, the little voice at the back of her head argued. He’d never hurt me. And, really, seeing Owen everywhere she went was far better than running into Him. Right?

He grinned, reaching beyond her for the instrument she’d been ogling. If he caught her cringe as his arm brushed hers, he didn’t mention it. “You don’t look like a bass kind of girl,” he said conversationally, shaking his shaggy chestnut hair off his brow. “Electric…amplified…yeah, maybe, but bass? No.”

A reluctant smile popped up to her lips, the first genuine one she’d displayed all day. “Oh? And what makes you say that? I could be a badass rocker chick. You don’t know that.” Did she actually just flirt with this guy? Even as she admitted to herself that yes, she had, she took another small step away from him.

“Hmm,” he pondered her for all of a moment, rubbing his baby smooth chin thoughtfully. Slowly, he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so, but—“ He lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “—I’m not the musical genius in the family. Hey, O! I need you.”

In the next instant, Owen strolled around the corner, his lip curled into a frown as he groaned, “What is it now, Lucky? For the last damned time, we are not going to sneak into the strip—“ He stopped abruptly as his eyes met Harper’s, color washing over his face, splashing dark scarlet across his cheeks. “Uh…hey, Harper.”

“Hey,” she mumbled. Another step. Soon, she’d be able to turn tail and run.

“Wait.” Lucky eyed them both wearily, waving his hand back and forth between them. “You two know each other?” He inhaled a sharp breath, his ice blue eyes twinkling with knowledge. “You’re the Harper Simonson I’ve heard so much about? My brother can’t seem to shut up about you—“

“Dude,” Owen growled, his fist shooting out, fast as a striking snake to catch Lucky in the shoulder.

“Hey, ow,” Lucky yelped, rubbing at his arm. “That hurt, bro.”

“There you are, Harper,” Grace said, rounding the corner behind her. “This place is like a maze. I’ve been looking—“ she ground to halt upon seeing Harper’s company. “Hey, Owen and uh…Owen’s little brother—“

“Lucky,” he supplied with a snort. “But, I’m not little,” he smirked at his brother. “In fact, he’s the younger one.” He took advantage of Owen’s preoccupation with the girls to get in a jab of his own, right to the kidney. “As you can see, I got all the looks in the family…and the brains.”

“By four lousy minutes,” Owen grunted, glowering at his brother.

“Twins?” Grace asked. “That must suck.”

“You have no idea,” Lucky grinned. “I’m always having to deal with him tagging along, bounding after my every step like a little lost puppy. Really cramps my style.”

“You poor thing,” Grace giggled and stepped toward him.

Harper would’ve had to have been deaf, dumb, and blind to miss the signals her friend was throwing off. Truman was definitely going to have some competition. Good, she thought. Not that she didn’t love her brother. She did, but Tru was a man-whore if she ever saw one. Grace deserved better than that, even if she has been in love with him since they were kids, and even though she knew nothing about this Lucky besides the fact that he was Owen’s brother, she still found herself rooting for him to sweep Grace off her feet. Maybe, just maybe, he was just what her friend needed.

“So, Lucky, huh?” Grace said, snapping Harper back to the present.

“Yeah, he’s lucky I haven’t auctioned him off on eBay yet,” Owen muttered under his breath.

“Don’t mind him,” Lucky said. “He’s just jealous. Maybe we should leave him behind, go find something better to browse?” He held out his arm.

Grace shot a quick questioning look in Harper’s direction, but her friend was too busy pretending to look at the instruments. “Uh…I think Harper’s about ready to leave,” she began uncertainly, frantically searching out some sign of what the other girl was thinking.

“Nah, she’s too busy drooling over that bass, there.” He grabbed her arm and started dragging her away. “Anyway, I’m sure she and my brother want some alone time, if you know what I mean.” And, before she could form any kind of argument, she was already two aisles over, following Mr. Hottie himself as he chattered about all things math and science, Grace’s favorite subjects.

“Bass, huh?” Owen asked, sliding a little closer to her. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, you’re like a savant when it comes to anything that makes music.”

“Uh, thanks,” she mumbled, instantly self-conscious. “But, I’m not a genius or anything. I just like music.”

“Hmm, I think you sell yourself short, Harp,” he murmured, closing the gap between them a little more. He wanted more than anything to slide right up next to her, hook his arms around her, and pull her close, chase all her demons away, but he had to tread carefully. Even now, she looked about ready to bolt. “We should jam together sometime…you know, not at school. I’ve got an old bass you could borrow. I’m sure you’d pick it up in a snap.”

She started to shake her head no, but something stopped her. No, she had to get back to normal. She couldn’t just push everyone away, because that really wasn’t like the Harper she was supposed to be. So, she dragged in a deep breath and pasted the most brilliant smile in her arsenal across her face.

“Sure, Owen. I’d like that,” she said sweetly, syrupy sugar dripping off her lips.

Relief plastered across his face, he grinned broadly. “How about tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven?”

She nodded, her body now functioning on autopilot. You can do this, she told herself. Just be normal. Too bad for her, she’d already forgotten how to do that.

 
What do we think of the story so far?  I don't know about you, but I can't wait to see what Kelly has in store for us next :)

These Fun & Games Are Just So Much FUN!

This writing experiment has turned into so much fun.  For those of you who haven't been following along, you can see Kelly's first snip here, mine here, and Kelly's second snip here.  Mine is below.

Enjoy!  (oh, and it's a little longer than the 1K word limit.  I just got so excited about this scene that well...you know how long winded I can be)  :)

A quiet Friday night. Harper’s parents had gone out, dropping Chase off at a friend’s house for the night, and who knew where Truman was? Even though he’d been home from college on winter break for the last two weeks, it was like he was still gone for as much as anyone ever saw him.


Taking advantage of the unusual peace that blanketed her normally chaotic home, Harper removed a bag of popcorn from the microwave and wandered into the living room to pop in a movie. On the coffee table, her phone lit up and buzzed loudly. She ignored it, feeling only a smidgen of guilt at brushing Grace off for like the fiftieth time today.

She’d have to get out of her funk soon, or else Grace would find some way to pry everything out of her. Sometimes, Harper swore that her friend was destined to work for the CIA or FBI or some covert black ops division of Homeland security as the resident torturer. Grace knew all sorts of creative ways to get information if she wanted it. And, once she caught the scent of some juicy tidbit, there was no losing her. She sunk in with the tenacity of a pit bull and didn’t let go until she’d gotten what she was after.

And, she always got her prize.

Harper shivered, despite the warmth of the room, and glared at her phone as it buzzed again. Still, she did not answer. Tomorrow. She’d get up early and show up on Grace’s doorstep, bagels and coffee in hand. They’d make a mall run and spend all sorts of money, racking up the credit card Grace’s dad had given her for emergencies only. Like he even checked the bill. And, everything would be back to normal.

It had to be because Harper just couldn’t take this wretched feeling anymore, like her skin was coated in the thickest, grimiest dirt imaginable. The kind of stain that ran deep inside, that even the hardest scrubbing couldn’t come close to scraping off.

She just needed to forget it all…like none of it had ever happened in the first place.

“Harper? I know you’re in here.”

Speak of the devil. Harper closed her eyes for all of a second, mustering up the necessary courage to face her friend much sooner than she was ready. Like pulling off a band-aid, Harper, she told herself. Quick and painless. Smile and pretend like everything is perfect. She never has to know.

“Back here,” she called out. Was that broken voice really hers? Shattered glass and cracked pavement coated her every word, gravel sliding along the back of her throat leaving behind welted pockets of pain. She swallowed against it all, forcing a brilliant smile up to her lips, one that did not quite reach her eyes. “I was just about to call you back,” she told Grace when her friend appeared in the doorway.

“No, you weren’t.”

Nervous laughter fell from Harper’s lips. “I was—“ The words died a quick violent death as Grace moved into the room and Owen materialized behind her. Eyes rounded, Harper’s mouth fell open. She darted a disbelieving look at Grace before turning back to him. “What are you doing here?” It was said—more like snapped out—in much harsher, icier tones than what was called for, but Harper didn’t care right then.

“Look, Harper, I—“ he began, desperately pleading apology stamped across his face. Torn between wanting to be here to console the girl he liked—hell, more than liked—and seeking solace in pretending he hadn’t witnessed what he had at the party, he stood there, hands jammed in his pockets, head hung, unsure as how to continue.

“We know all about what happened with Mr. Haas,” Grace jumped in. “Harper, why didn’t you say something? We need to go to the police…file a report. That asshole needs to be arrested!”

“What?” Swiveling her attention back and forth between the two of them, Harper rounded her eyes, hoping to convey just the right amount of confusion while inside, she was screaming, No! This just wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. She wouldn’t let it. “I don’t…” she shook her head. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Grace.” She turned to Owen. “What does she mean? And, why are we calling the police?”

She waited for one breathless moment while Owen and Grace shared a significant look. Swallowing, visibly, Owen pinned her with a probing stare that had Harper wanting to throw her arms up and shield herself against the assault, afraid that yes, he could see straight through her and wasn’t quite sure if he liked what he saw.

That particular thought sent an arrow of pain straight through her chest.

“I saw you at the party, Harper,” he admitted quietly.

“I saw you, too,” she volleyed back, pushing out a light—she hoped—flirty giggle. “It wasn’t like it was a huge gathering…just a bunch of band geeks drinking pop and watching movies at Mr. H’s house. Same as all the other years.”

“No, I saw you,” he said, putting a wealth of meaning into the word saw. He pursed his lips, swallowed again, as if this whole conversation was physically painful for him. “And, Mr. Haas…coming out of his bedroom.”

“Oh, well, that was nothing.” She waved a dismissive hand through the air. “I had to use the bathroom, and there was such a line at the main one that he let me use the one in his bedroom.” She turned to Grace with a smirk. “Is that what has you two all fired up? You think I’d do something with a teacher?”

“No,” Grace said, soberly. “I don’t.”

“Well, there you go,” Harper jumped to her feet and gestured toward the door. “I’m sorry Grace dragged you over here on a Friday night, Owen. I’m sure you have other, more interesting things to do than have some kind of weird intervention thing—“

“He didn’t need to take his clothes off to show you where the bathroom was, Harper,” he cut in quietly. At her shocked look, he barreled forward. No going back now. In for a penny…well, whatever. He was determined to help her through this, even if that meant losing her forever. It was a risk he was willing to take if it meant keeping her safe. “I saw you two leaving his bedroom. He was still in the process of putting his shirt back on.”

“I see,” she said stiffly. Her mind raced ahead, grasping for something, anything, to say that sounded even remotely plausible.

“Harper, honey,” Grace murmured, reaching out for her. “Whatever happened…it’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it was,” she muttered, bitterness dripping off her every word.

“No, really, it—“

Harper pushed her away, stumbling a couple of feet toward Owen who automatically stepped forward. His face was molted with rage, like he was two inches away from running out the door and hunting Mr. Haas down, and not with the intention of getting his version of the story. She shook those thoughts away and straightened her spine.

For most of her life, Grace had protected her, basically shoved Harper aside to fix anything and everything that went wrong in Harper’s life. Danny Jacobson was a prime example. And, Harper was sick of it. Just once…just one measly time, she wanted to be her own hero. She wanted to heal her own aches, right her own wrongs.

This was her time.

“Grace, listen to yourself,” Harper snapped, all patience at an end. “Do you really think I’d let some guy, especially a teacher, rape me and not scream bloody murder? Do you really think so little of me?”

“Harper—“

“Nothing. Happened,” she spit out.

“But—“

“Mr. Haas showed me to the bathroom,” she gritted out each word slowly, carefully. “But, it was dark in the bedroom and when I walked past him, I stumbled. I spilled my pop on him. So, while I was in the bathroom, he had to change his shirt. End of story.”

The room dropped into complete and utter silence. Grace and Owen just stared at her, looking like they wanted to believe her but unsure as to whether they should. Harper just wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

“Nothing happened?” Grace asked, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. “Truly?”

Harper jerked out a sharp nod and gestured toward the door again. “Is that all you came here for?” She slid a sideways glance at Owen. “I’m sorry Grace dragged you over here,” she muttered.

He shrugged, a seemingly careless gesture that was anything but. “’S’Okay,” he murmured. “I’ll just…uh…be going, then.”

After he’d disappeared through the door, Harper whirled on her friend. “How could you…?” she sputtered, face flushing deep scarlet. “And, in front of Owen, too!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Grace mumbled, dejectedly. “I just thought—“

“Well, next time you decide to think, come to me first. Don’t drag him into it. Jeesh, Grace! He must think…I don’t even want to know what he thinks right now.”

Grace grabbed hold of Harper, hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry, Harp. Really, I am,” she sobbed into her friend’s ear. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

Before Harper could stop her, Grace bounded out of the room. She collapsed on the sofa, tears welling up and spilling over. Great. Just great. What was she going to do now?

Outside, Grace shivered against the cold night air, her breath pluming out in front of her. She slid in behind the wheel and promptly shrieked when she realized there was someone sitting in the seat next to her. Hand to her chest to slow her galloping heart, she jammed the key in the ignition and fired Frenchy up. As warm air swirled about her, she leaned back in her seat.

“Do you believe her?” He asked quietly.

Slowly, sadly, she shook her head. “No. No, I don’t.”

 
So....what do you guys think so far?  I don't know about you, but I'm super excited to see where Kelly takes it from here :)

Round Robin: Part Deux

It's Thursday, folks, and we all know what that means.  Yes, you guessed it!  The second installment of the FUN AND GAMES WITH K & K writing experiment that Kelly Breakey instigated is now available for your perusal.  Whoa.  Big words for a Thursday morning :)  Now, if you missed the first snip, in which Kelly threw down the challenge that scared the freaking daylights out of me I accepted with gusto, go here and get caught up.

Now, it's my turn to step up to the plate.  Have fun with it guys!

Harper was halfway across the lot when she heard her name being called out, by two distinctly different voices. Behind her, Grace fairly flew at her, footsteps skipping along the cracked asphalt with little more sound than a quiet murmur. Ahead of her and to the right, Owen barreled forth, his mission clearly etched in the lines of his angular face.


“Harper, wait up! You forgot your—“

“Harper, we need—“

A groan and a growl both fought their way up the back of her throat, each vying for the coveted position of first in line to jump out of her mouth. Not here. Not now. She just couldn’t deal with either of them right then. Why couldn’t they see that she just need a minute to herself, and some space would be good, too.

Too late now. They’d already closed ranks.

“I swear, you’d forget your name if it wasn’t sewed onto your jacket,” Grace huffed. She shoved the flute case into Harper’s arms, eyeing the boy now hovering over her friend. “You must really have a lot on your mind if you’re forgetting an instrument. They’re, you know, like your children.” The last was said with a snicker, although not in a mean way but in a I’ve known you so long I’m allowed to tease you without fear of retribution way.

“Yeah well, it’s small, and you have Frenchy so over-loaded, it’s a wonder I even made my way out alive. Besides, I thought I had it,” she countered, nervously.

“We so have to come up with a better name for my car. Volkswagen’s are German, you know,” Grace pointed out.

“No, it fits perfectly.” When Grace had first gotten the little piece of pink scrap metal, she’d careened down the street, nearly taking out three different mailboxes and a wayward poodle, the windows all rolled down—even though it was the dead of winter—and the Grease! sound track blaring. A pink car for one of the pink ladies, Grace had said, to which Harper had replied that if Grace was Sandy and Harper was Rizzo then that left Frenchy for the car.

He didn’t say anything, just watched Harper verbally sparring with her friend, all the while warring with herself as to whether she could get away with simply ignoring him or if she should just bite the bullet and introduce him to Grace.

Grace. Perfect Grace. The girl who everyone wanted to be friends with…who everyone wanted to be like. Tall, blonde, utterly gorgeous…both inside and out—Harper’s complete and total opposite. Grace was the type of person to blow off any insult, laugh through even the worst pain, but she was also fiercely loyal to those she cared for. In a word, she was…well, her name said it all. She was grace personified.

And, right then, the curious—and very determined—look on her face told Harper that there was no dodging this.

“Grace Monroe,” she sighed in resignation, waving her hands back and forth between them. “Owen Lancaster. Owen’s in seventh hour with me,” she added by way of explanation.

Seventh hour. The “extra” class that only the most die-hard of the band geeks took. The additional hours involved—after school when most kids just wanted to get the hell out or at least take part in normal extra-curricular activities…like sports or student government—not to mention the label of dorkiest of the geek squad kept attendance in this class at a mere handful of students. In fact, besides Harper and Owen, Grace was fairly certain there were only four or five other kids taking it.

“Oh, yeah?” She looked him over, scrutinizing him in such a way that would have had most people cringing and fighting the urge to cover themselves. “What do you play?”

It was a test, they both knew. Grace had long ago named herself Harper’s champion, and she wasn’t about to have the title taken from her without a helluva fight.

Owen shot a quick, questioning glance at Harper, one that told her they needed to talk, privately, and he wouldn’t be so easily deterred. Then, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing soft, springy curls the color of strong coffee out of his eyes. “Percussion, mostly.”

“A little drummer boy, huh?” On anyone else, a big, toothy grin would’ve looked beyond ridiculous, but on Grace, it was the most beautiful thing imaginable, cheery, awe-inspiring, and brighter than the sun. “Well, you know—“

Saved by the bell. Harper sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods watched over class schedules and grabbed Grace’s arm. “We’ve got to go, Owen. Grace hates to be late, and I already made her so once this morning.”

Grace threw back her head and laughed, wind chimes tinkling in the cool morning air. “So you admit it?”

“Yeah, sure…whatever,” she mumbled, dragging her friend toward the entrance, and not once looking back at Owen. Harper knew what he wanted to talk about…what he saw at the party. Well, at least what he thought he saw, but he was wrong. She’d find some way to deal with him later…when she had a chance to figure out how to explain things to him, how to make him understand that no one could ever, ever know the truth.

 
And, this is where I leave you hanging, hopefully on pins and needles to see what Kelly does with this.  Look for her snip on Tuesday.  I will, as always, be here, polishing my nails, eating bon-bons, and generally being a lazy good for nothing writer...or maybe I'll whip out a tease from my current WiP.  Only time will tell.  Until then peeps, don't forget about my FRIDAY FIVE CONTEST.  Today is the last day for entries.  :)