New Kid In Town (Bryant Rockwell Book 1) Read online

  “Right. You’d better take him along and stop distracting my class.” He blew the whistle. “Come on then, boys. Two teams. Luke, you captain one team. Neil, you get the other. Pick your teams.” He glared at Liv. “What are you waiting for? A gilt-edged invitation? Off you go.”

  For the second time that day, something snapped inside Liv’s head. Why did male sports teachers have to be such bullies? Assuming the air of a nurse with an elderly patient, she grabbed the handles of Ray’s chair. Pushing it along, she adopted a patronising cackle. “Come along, Dearie.”

  As she bumped the chair over the rough grass, he quickly saw the joke and joined in, adopting a croaky voice and whinging loudly. “Not so fast, Nursie. You’re rattling my bones.”

  She pushed him away from the pitch and, when they reached a bench by the art block, she collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath between giggles.

  “What you need, my dear, is two hours of hockey and netball; you’d soon get back into condition.” He was still using the croaky voice.

  “Rubbish, you’re simply too heavy. You need to lose a stone or two.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his eyes widened and he backpedalled like mad. “Hey, I’m sorry. Looks like it’s my turn to be insensitive.”

  When she didn’t respond, he dug himself deeper into the hole. “Look, you’re not fat, just a bit cuddly, maybe. It’s probably a gland thing, right?” His hand reached out, imploring. “Liv? Speak to me, please.”

  She finally lifted her head, staring at him through the blur of unshed tears. “So, I’m fat and you’re a cripple; at least I can lose weight. Go to hell, Ray Donelly, or wherever you came from.” She got up awkwardly, intending to flounce off and never speak to him again.

  He caught her arm. “And you called me touchy. Please, Liv. Just hear me out. Please? Then you can flounce off and never speak to me again.”

  How the hell? He’d grabbed her attention, and she stayed, arms folded, looking daggers, as he tried to worm his way out of it.

  “I think you’re pretty and witty and bright, but more than that, I want to be your friend. If you think Luke’s had a raw deal, you should hear my story, sometime.”

  “Anytime.” It was, after all, her original intention.

  He shook his head. “I’m not ready to tell it, yet. But I’d appreciate if I could hang around with you guys for a while, until I can find my feet.”

  “Pun intended?”

  “That’s exactly it. You three have a really good thing going, and you don’t take yourselves seriously – or anyone else.”

  “Except Jude’s skating, Kat’s music and my weight problem.”

  He shrugged. “Small price to pay. Can I join your gang? Please?”

  She pretended to consider while his gorgeous smile set off a Strictly Come Dancing group-dance in her stomach. “Ok, but there are rules. Number one is you’ll have to change your name to Joe or Kieran or Liam or something.” She gave him a cheeky smile as they headed toward reception.

  “Why?”

  “Because we formed the JKLM group after our initials.” Her cheeks reddened as she realised how infantile it sounded. She tried to distance herself from the blunder. “Back in year seven, when we all got together. We don’t use it now, of course.”

  He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort or, if he did, he kindly glossed over it. “Who’s the M?”

  “Melanie. She moved down near Portsmouth last August.”

  “Right; my middle name’s Martin ...”

  “Perfect, consider yourself in. Although we’ve never had a boy before.”

  “I did wonder.”

  “Cheeky brat. You have to promise not to be squeamish when we talk about women’s problems and things like that.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “Consider yourself an honorary girl, Martina.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine.”

  They encountered a problem at the admin building; the sliding door mechanism into reception had broken and the wheelchair couldn’t fit through the ordinary, narrow door. The receptionist was on her own so Liv had to sign Ray out, too.

  “See, it’s a good job you came; I couldn’t have managed it on my own.”

  “You’re welcome. Poor woman couldn’t apologise enough; she’s a friend of Jude’s mum, so she knows I can be trusted.”

  He grinned at her. “So, nurse Olivia. Are you going to push me home?”

  “Depends on where you live; don’t forget how out of condition I am.”

  He glanced up warily but she smiled. “I have to be able to get back to check in with Miss Talbot at the end of netball.”

  “The female Mr Green?”

  “Not at all; she’s young, and dead cool about things. Nah, she simply wants to make sure she shouldn’t have bussed me down to casualty.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  As they walked, she told him the full story and when she finished speaking, he shook his head. “This Diana sounds like a nasty piece of work. Was she the one who ‘couldn’t exactly dance’ with me?”

  “Oh dear. We hoped you didn’t hear her rude remarks.”

  “Her friend thinks I’m drop-dead gorgeous, though.”

  “Cecily? You obviously didn’t notice the Labrador and white stick.”

  “What?” He grinned. “You want to watch you don’t cut yourself with that sharp tongue.”

  “Come on, someone with your looks doesn’t need to go fishing for compliments, surely? I mean, you do own a mirror, don’t you?”

  “Ah, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” He winked. “Apparently.”

  They cut across a small green whose edges sported dozens of trees poised to burst into their autumn glory. Liv barely noticed as she tried to deal with this unfamiliar flirting. “Yeah, and you think I’m cuddly.”

  “Hey, I’d cuddle you any day.” Ray’s eyes twinkled.

  “And pretty and witty and bright?”

  “I said it, didn’t I?” He jumped as she burst into song as though they were in a musical, singing lines from West Side Story’s “I Feel Pretty.”

  At the “tra-la-las,” she stamped her feet on the path and clicked her fingers, waving an imaginary fan, thankful for the deserted shortcut.

  As she continued singing, he joined in with the harmonies and even acted, framing his face with his hands in a parody of a girl looking in a mirror. He knew the words as well as she did, singing the counterpoint parts in a credible duet. His wildly exaggerated arm movements were ridiculously out of place on his anything-but-feminine body, and she started to crack. When he did the falsetto “La-la-las” at the end, she proper fell apart.

  At the other side of the green, he directed her to get to his street. “So, was it your mum or dad who forced you to watch musicals?”

  “Mum. Especially Sound of Music, Seven Brides and anything Disney.”

  “But West Side Story’s the one; at least twice a year.” His eyes rolled in unison with hers. “My dad’s got a CD he sings along to in the car.”

  She grinned. “Jude and Kat never understand how I suffer; their folks listen to decent rock music or cool Celtic stuff like U2 and the Coors.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not telling me you don’t like musicals at all?” He frowned. “Even though you know all the words to ‘I Feel Pretty.’ Does not compute.”

  Liv’s eye’s narrowed. Was he teasing her? “I knew them all from about six years old. They’re ok, but I feel slightly naff admitting it.”

  “Why? Musically they’re brilliant, the singing’s great and I’d give anything to be able to dance like Riff.” He wheeled up a short path.

  “I prefer Bernardo; the scene with Anita ‘at the dance tonight at the’ – Oh.” She broke off, realising what he’d said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? I said it, not you. And it happens to be true; even when I could walk, I wanted to learn. Mum and dad are brilliant at Latin and ballroom, but they’ve been
very mean about handing over the genes.”

  “Too holey at the knees? Mine always do that.”

  “No, I mean DNA and ... you’re taking the mick, aren’t you?”

  “You did say it was what you liked most about me.”

  “I didn’t actually say most ...” As his voice took on a serious note, the front door opened and an elegant lady strove to hide her concern.

  “What are you doing back so early? Is something wrong?”

  “Chill, Mum. Sports afternoon: They sent me home with an armed escort.”

  “Hi, Mrs Donelly, only the two arms, left and right.” Liv instantly wished she had an off switch for the automatic cliché and bad dad-joke generator which served as her brain.

  The woman smiled as though nothing would faze her. “Won’t you come in?” As she stepped back, a mop of golden curls became visible. The little head slowly peeked round until a large, unblinking blue eye came into view.

  “Hello munchkin, had a good day?” Ray stretched out his arms.

  “Way, Way.” The little bundle flew into them and squealed as he subjected her to a thorough tickling.

  Liv grinned at the cute picture they made as the dance troupe in her stomach did a funky little Latin number, complete with lifts and ganchos. She finally remembered her manners; she’d been invited in. “Thank you, but I have to get back to school. See you tomorrow, Ray.”

  “Bye, Liv.”

  Desperately missing her iPod, Liv walked back to the school, reflecting on how much more she knew about the new boy in town. But he was still a big mystery. She got back to the netball court in time to see Jude score a net. A couple of minutes later, the whistle blew. She reported dutifully to Miss Talbot who asked a few questions. After inspecting Liv’s head for bumps, she announced, “I’m sure you’ll live.”

  Kat and Jude were concerned about her state of health, but Liv brushed their questions aside. “I’m fine guys, honestly. Listen, we need to get together later to sort a few things out and come up with a plan of attack.”

  “I’m meeting Luke right now to sort out this maths thing.”

  “I could have shown you that.” Liv’s pretence at hurt and rejection fooled kind-hearted Kat into a guilty protest. “I know you could, it’s merely a way of getting him to open up and talk about it.”

  “Of course it is; even I can see that. I’m simply teasing; you can let us know how you get on later. I suppose you’re skating, Jude?”

  She grinned, and sheep were definitely involved. “You know my schedule better than me, Liv.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. My place, eight o’clock, ok?”

  “Right.”

  “See you later.”

  6 Luke: The Boy Next Door

  At the end of the day, Luke was leaning against Kat’s locker; exactly as he did when they were in year nine. He looked a little wary, but she greeted him with a smile of pure pleasure.

  He gestured at the lockers. “This takes me back a while.”

  “Just like old times, huh?” She winked as she transferred books to her locker and retrieved the ones she’d need for homework.

  With a grin, he stuck a pose, and his smooth lines were straight from the bad-boy in a US teen show. “Not quite; we’ve both done a lot of growing up since then.” His eyes swept over her body. “Yours seems to be in all the right places.”

  Despite recognising the ploy, Kat couldn’t stop the blood warming her cheeks. She countered with a bog-Irish accent. “Sure, and if I’d known you were in Ireland this summer, I’d have looked you up.”

  “Do what?” The retort pierced his act and uncertainty clouded his face.

  “You must have kissed the Blarney stone to be talking like that.”

  Doubt turned to confusion before he twigged. “Oh, right. I get it. It’s supposed to give you the gift of the gab, right?”

  “Bejaysus, so it is an’ all.”

  He grinned, recovering some of his composure. “You know I know they don’t really speak like that over there.”

  “Of course I do, but I had to break the ice somehow. You’d forgotten how to talk to me.” She shut the locker door and locked it. “Are you fit? Let’s go.”

  “You ok to walk?” He shouldered his bag. “Only I’ve seen you catching the bus ...”

  “Only when Mum’s on tea-time shift.”

  “Is she still at the general?”

  “Yeah, on the children’s ward at the moment. It really messes her about; some of the cases are heart-breaking.”

  Understandably, he had no answer, and she tried to lighten the mood. “She’s not on ’til ten tonight. I don’t have to get Connor and Sinead from the childminder’s, so we can walk.”

  A grin of pure pleasure lit his face. “Bet I wouldn’t recognise them.”

  Kat smiled; he’d always loved her younger brother and sister. “Oh, you would. They’re every bit as noisy and full of mischief, merely a wee bit bigger. More noise, more cheek. According to Paddy.”

  He went quiet and she glimpsed a strange look on his face. They walked in silence for a while; then he stopped. “Do they still hate me?”

  She was confused about who he meant: Connor and Sinead? Her mother and the childminder? “Who?”

  “Your brothers. Paddy and Rory.”

  “No, they don’t hate you. Why would you think that?”

  He glanced at her as if to check she wasn’t pulling his leg. “You know what I’m on about.”

  “Because you had the misfortune to join a bunch of thieving, lying toe-rags for a while? Everyone’s entitled to one mistake.”

  “You mean if I showed up at your house, I wouldn’t get beaten up?”

  “If they wanted to do that, they wouldn’t exactly have far to go.”

  “True. No more than twenty-five metres.” Luke gave a rueful smile.

  “Anyway, they knew what was going on, why you were doing it.”

  “Did they?”

  “Sure, we all knew about your mum and Pete.”

  “Yeah, right. I forgot the whole world knows your business at Bryant Rockwell.” His twisted expression matched the bitter tone.

  “Come on, we’re not exactly the whole world.” She had an epiphany. “Is that why you stayed away for so long? Because you thought my brothers hated you?”

  “No.”

  “Why then?”

  “Just leave it.” He refused to meet her eye.

  “If there’s a reason, I want to know. We used to tell each other everything. I remember you saying one of the reasons you trusted me was because we were always straight with each other. So, come on. Spill the beans.”

  “Forget it, Kat.” His tone darkened.

  “Tell me.” She stood in front of him, blocking his path.

  He side-stepped. “I mean it. Drop it or you might regret it.”

  She folded her arms. “Are you threatening me, Luke Harper? All this time I’ve been saying you’re not the kind of bully-boy they all think you are. Am I wrong?”

  No response; he seemed busy with some kind of internal struggle.

  She huffed a sigh. “I thought you were ready to give our friendship another chance, but I can see you’re not the same person I used to know.”

  Darting past him, she picked up speed, but he caught her arm. Something in his tone made her stay. “They made me do it.”

  “Jimmy Proud’s gang? What do they call themselves, the Black Angels?”

  “The Dark Angels.” He shook his head sadly.

  Her fiery Celtic temper got the better of her. “So you’d happily give up nine years of friendship because a bunch of no-good, slimy, rotten ...” Words failed her, and she almost didn’t hear his next words, he spoke so quietly.

  “Rory and Paddy.”

  “My brothers told you to join Jimmy’s gang?” Kat rarely got mad, but when she did, her brain ceased to function properly.

  “They told me to stay away from you.”

  “What?” Kat’s expression must have shown ever
y ounce of her confusion and disbelief.

  “I think their actual words were something like ‘If you bring a whiff of trouble into Kat’s life, we’ll take you apart.’ Charming lads.”

  She snorted. “Sounds like Paddy talking.”

  “So, I figured since I was nothing but trouble ...”

  “Rubbish.” Kat bristled with indignation. “You were just ...” More failing words.

  “Just nothing. I’d gone totally off the rails. Everything bad you heard about me was true. And worse. My self-destruct button had depressed and the countdown had started.”

  She smiled – Luke was a real Star Trek fan; he’d even got her watching a couple of episodes – and he smiled back.

  “Yeah, but you were bound to react to all those bad things ...”

  “Don’t say it.” He grabbed her hands and studied her intently for a moment. “Kat. I know what you’re trying to do here, and I’m really grateful, but lots of stuff happened you wouldn’t understand.”

  His gaze slipped to the ground and he shook his head. “I’m not sure I want you to know about most of it – any of it.”

  “But ...” She started to protest.

  He held up his hands. “Please, bear with me. Can we start by picking up where we left off? I’m struggling with everything at the moment, and it would really help to know I’ve got someone in my corner.”

  “Sure. Of course. And when you feel ready to talk about it ...”

  “I’m making no promises.”

  “Ok. But you will. If you keep it bottled up inside, it won’t do any good.”

  “That’s what Mrs Timons says.”

  “She’s been good to you, hasn’t she?”

  He pushed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d have got through the police thing without her. She even stood up as a character witness for me. If she hadn’t, I’d have had to go to juvenile court for sure.”

  “What, she actually came to the station? Where was your Dad?”

  “On one of his long European runs: Spain or Italy. Anyway, I’m really glad because he would have made it worse, shouting at me and winding up the coppers. I know what he’d be like.”

  She frowned; Mr Harper had never been anything but gentle and polite.