All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) (9 page)

“I like to be smart with my money … but, I guess it wasn’t
that expensive.” At the car, I locked the guitar in the trunk and started off
in the other direction, following my nose. Mixed with the normal large town
smell was something like grilled steak. The first place we came to was small
and rustic. I grabbed a small table by the window, away from two men in
business clothes at another table and a group of women eating lunch together.
After glancing through the menu, I caught up on texts.

So …  
Nash
really wants to get together tonight.

You could tell him you have to catch up on homework. Which you
do. You’ve been slacking a lot lately.

Whatever, Mr. Let’s-take-off-for-the-day.

I ordered fish and chips and a Shirley Temple. Marcus was
jonsing for a beer. I was still twenty so legally I couldn’t order him one,
even if I wanted to.

Did you like that song, the one without words yet? I’ve been
working on it a long time. It’s called “Sweet Night.”

Yeah, I did. It was … it had a longing to it.

I opened the novel and tried to read a few lines, but my
mind was buzzing. He remembered something!

“So, Marcus, we know you like snowboarding, running and
playing guitar. Oh, and drawing. You can remember a song you’ve been writing...
Can’t you remember what inspired it? If it’s about someone?”

I noticed a woman across the restaurant watching me. Oops.
I’d said that out loud, but I didn’t think she could hear me …

Marcus was quiet, thinking. I didn’t want to interrupt in
case something was forming. I read a couple pages; I was dying to get lost in a
book again. I hadn’t gotten back to
Goldfinch
since this whole thing
started. Sighing, I opened Google on my phone and searched, “Marcus, guitar
player.” I followed several links: a guy’s Facebook page but he was sixteen and
didn’t look right at all.

Uh … how’s that?

The guy in the picture was too skinny for one thing, and his
face looked mean to me for some reason.
What do you think?

Okay, sorry. No.

He laughed and I checked out several other results. It
didn’t look like there was some famous Marcus in a band.

You know … there’s a few things that have popped up, like a
memory, but I don’t know what they mean.

Okay, share.

So different words and phrases have come to me in a foreign
language. It’s clear in my mind for a second and then gone again before I can
really pick it apart. I think some are French and German, maybe even Russian.

Russian? Whoa. Well … interesting. What could that mean?
That you traveled a lot, maybe for work?

Could be. I have seen a lot of airport scenes. And then snow,
but that’s a part of snowboarding. Then I’ve been dying for some good micro
brew and a Swiss mushroom steak, which doesn’t tell me anything because that’s
so typically male.

My food arrived. While eating, I got another text from Nash …
and I went ahead and said he could come over that evening to hang out. It was
just my luck that he was finally interested when things were so messed up for
me. That might be partly why I decided to see him, to feel normal again.

Oh, Avery. Normal is boring.

Halfway home, something in the engine went thump. I
listened, wondering if I’d hit something, then black smoked puffed out of the
edges of the hood and flew back and over the windshield.

I pushed the brake and put on my hazards—but now what?
Marcus?

A car honked because it had to swerve around me. Jerk! I pulled
off onto the shoulder, making the car jostle over the edge and wind down to a
stop. I turned the key off even though it sounded like the engine had died
already. Traffic zoomed by while I stared, open-mouthed, at the smoke.

I asked Marcus, “Do you know anything about cars?”

I know to put gas in the gas tank and get the oil changed.

Terrific. The smoke caught up into the air and whiffed
around, swirling one way and then the other. A semi-truck blared by, making
wind push against the car, and more cars zoomed behind that. The clouds from
earlier had cleared out, leaving a pristine blue sky that contrasted against
the vibrant green hills. Out in the distance, it looked like a perfect, sunny
day, until the black engine smoke got in the way.

“What am I going to do?” I picked up my phone, wondering who
to call, and scrolled through my contacts.

No, not that doosh.

“Screw you.” I touched Nash’s name to call him.

Avery, dang it. Why him?

“Hey, there,” Nash greeted, his voice sounding happier than
usual. I hadn’t realized until that second just how very serious he was all the
time.

“Hi … are you doing anything right now?” I asked. “I’m
sitting beside I-5 with smoke coming out of my engine. I broke down on the way
back from Medford.”

“Are you past the first Ashland exit?”

“Yeah.”

 “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes, okay? I just have
to drive up to the next exit and come down. Just hang tight.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

We hung up, and I ignored the mean thoughts running through
Marcus’s head. (My head, actually.) Before, this would have been great. It was
an excuse to call Nash and do something outside of class. We’d gotten such a
slow start … I wasn’t sure what it was. In high school, you start going out and
that’s that. In college, you do about the same thing, but you don’t have to
sneak around behind any adults’ backs. I thought dating would be easier.

Should be.

“Do you have to ruin everything for me?”

I just don’t see why you had to call him. We could have called
a tow truck and taken the car into a mechanic in Medford.

“Oh. Nice that you tell me that now. I didn’t know what to
do. You said you didn’t either. So I’m sitting here kinda scared about being broken
down on the freeway, and you didn’t have any ideas—”

So call him back and say you don’t need him.

“I do need him!” I hit the steering wheel. “You’re a flipping
voice. That’s it! You can’t help me do anything. You can’t touch me. You can’t
be
here.
”

Relative silence. Just the traffic whipping by with a zoom,
zoom, zoom and burst of wind. Another vehicle honked. What the hell? The car
was all the way onto the shoulder. What did they expect me to do? You’d think
someone would stop to help.

The smoke was clearing. Maybe that was why no one stopped.
But that didn’t matter. Nash was coming. I leaned my head back and closed my
eyes.

I’m real enough to draw pictures and play the guitar with your
hands.

I shook my head and looked out the side window. My hand
lifted to my face and rested against my cheek, the way someone would hold your
face while looking into your eyes.

Feel that?

“Yeesss.”

Does it feel real?

My hand moved against my face and I closed my eyes. It was
my hand but I felt tenderness from Marcus, something I wouldn’t think he could
feel for me in the midst of all his frustrating limitations. I saw him in front
of me, except that I couldn’t picture him clearly. Just features coming through
a dream fog. Warm eyes: light brown, like crystal amber. Wavy blond hair in startling
contrast to his light brown eyes.

“I see you!” My eyes flew open. It was just the freeway lying
out before me and that damn blank sky. The image was gone.

“Marcus?”

I felt him around but he didn’t say anything. My hand was
still touching my face. Feeling like an idiot, I jerked it away.

Bam.

I jumped so hard I was surprised I didn’t hit the ceiling.
Nash was leaned over outside the passenger door, his knuckles against the window,
ready to tap again. I hit the unlock button. At least that worked. He wore a
black jacket, dark gray shirt, and black pants, like he should be walking
around in rainy Seattle or New York. Not Hippie-and-Beatnik-ville here in
Oregon. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, sitting down but not closing the door.
Had he seen? My face flooded with heat. I could clearly picture my freckles
standing out in contrast.

“Yes, I’m good … it’s the car.”

“If you pop the hood, I’ll take a look.”

I nodded and pulled the little lever. Nash stepped back out
and walked to the front, where I couldn’t see him once he put the hood up.

I felt let down, but couldn’t figure out what I’d been
expecting. For him to touch my face like Marcus just did? It was so ridiculous.
I felt like crying.

“How did you do that?” I whispered to Marcus.

Which part?

“Why are you playing games? How did you touch me like that?”

Dunno.

“Did you see yourself?”

While I waited on Marcus, Nash dropped the hood and got into
the passenger seat. He closed the door this time, damping the traffic noise.

“It looks like a spark plug broke loose. Does your insurance
cover towing?”

I wasn’t sure and motioned to the glove compartment. “My
card’s in there. I can check.”

Nash looked the card over before handing it to me. “Doesn’t
look like it.”

I called and confirmed that I didn’t have any kind of towing
coverage, then Nash googled a nearby towing service and called.

 “Thanks for coming out here,” I told him. “I guess I didn’t
need you to.”

That’s what I said!

Nash turned in his seat, pinning me with those dark eyes.
“I’m glad you called.” He surprised me then by reaching over and covering my
hand with his. I moved my hand and his fingers slipped between mine.

Can someone get me out of here?

It was all I could do to look back into Nash’s eyes like I
wasn’t hearing Marcus throw a hissy fit.

Hissy my ass. How would you like to be stuck in my head while I
got all hot and heavy with some chick? Huh? Or maybe we should try that. You
like girls?

This isn’t Fifty Shades of Pink.

“You must have caught up on class work,” Nash said. I think
he was fishing for something to say in the silence. It was on the verge of
getting awkward but I couldn’t get Marcus to shut up.

“Just about,” I lied, because I hadn’t done much of
anything.

Why lie about it?

I thought we were going to fall back into silence when Nash
cleared his throat and said, “I’m a bit confused about if you like me or not.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been sending mixed signals.” Actually, I
was sorry that Marcus was complicating this. I hadn’t been mixed up at all, but
how could I explain this to Nash?

“If you don’t like me, just tell me, okay? If that’s the
case, I’d rather know than worry that you’re leading me on.”

“I’m not leading you on.”

She’s just out of her mind, is all.

“So there’s not anything else going on?” Nash asked with a
slight shake of his head, fishing like he didn’t believe me. I wasn’t sure what
he meant. Maybe he had a hunch about
something,
although he didn’t look
suspicious or hurt. I wanted to get lost in his dark eyes and forget about
Marcus for a minute. Just a minute. Was that asking too much?

Tell him you’re working through some stuff.

What? Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. So I tried it. “I
just have a few things to work through.”

Nash laughed, surprising me. I pulled my hand back.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just, that
sounds like something a guy would say.”

Nice. Thanks a lot, Marcus.

Hey, just trying to help.

Really?

I glanced behind us, looking for the tow truck. Suddenly Nash
raked a hand through his hair, exhaling, then glanced in the little mirror on
his sun visor to fix it. “I didn’t mean for that to sound mean. I keep saying
the wrong thing. And I’ve been feeling like I read you wrong. You know? We
haven’t talked much at all this week, and  …”

“You didn’t,” I said, trying to think fast. He must have
taken it wrong when I didn’t kiss him the other night. “I’m just dealing with
some emotional stuff …” Too bad Marcus hadn’t elaborated on that story.

“Like a broken heart?”

Those words sounded foreign coming from Nash’s mouth. Maybe
that would work, except there hadn’t been anyone since Kyle. Nash glanced out
the back window and said, “There’s the tow truck.”

He got out. I waited for traffic to pass so I wouldn’t feel
too close to the moving cars, so by the time I walked back to the tow truck
driver, Nash was explaining what happened with the engine. It sounded like
French to me.

French?
Peut-être que tu voudrais cinquante nuances de rose en français.

I stopped a few steps back from Nash. What was
that?

I said, maybe you’d like Fifty Shades of Pink in French.

“You speak French?”

Si je parle français? Mais oui, un peu.

Of course I didn’t understand his answer, but it answered my
question. Another clue, and a good one! That, and seeing some of what he looked
like, but I wasn’t sure how I could search for a person based on their eye
color and hair. Wait. Yes I did.

Nash turned toward me. “So he’ll take it from here, and I
can take you back to your house.”

I was reeling from my discovery but managed a smile. “Sounds
great.”

Not going to get a quote or anything?

Oh. I introduced myself to the driver—Tony—and asked about
his fees. It was less than I thought because we were so close to his shop.

Don’t leave the guitar.

Seriously?

GET IT!

Nash was walking back to his car—a practical gray Subaru
station wagon that looked like a hand-me-down from his parents. He’d parked far
enough back that the tow truck had parked between our cars.

“Wait, Nash, I want to grab my things from the trunk.” I
grabbed my bag and the guitar and hurried back to join him. I saw his gaze hit
on the instrument.

“You play?” he asked when I set it in the backseat.

I shut the back door without answering, even though it felt
rude. What was I going to say? I got in the front seat and buckled up. “I
started learning as a kid, but I haven’t touched a guitar in years. I bought it
on a whim, I guess. I might give it a try again.”

“I’ve always admired people who can play music. Singing is a
natural talent, but I’m not sure it comes naturally to be able to play a
guitar. There’s a lot of learning.”

Well, not in this case.

We pulled out into traffic, and while I didn’t feel good
about thinking it, I was glad it was a short drive back to my house. I needed
to sort this out.

“So, tonight …” Nash glanced over.

Tonight. Yes, tonight. We’d made tentative plans through
texting. “Do you want to come over about six?”

“Sure.” He flashed a quick smile—his quick and small smile
that didn’t show any teeth, the one I’d taken for flirty all this time. Maybe
that was as big as he ever went with it.

I wanted to explain that I needed to finish up a few things,
but apparently he did too. Neither of us explained why we didn’t just spend the
rest of the day together.  I got so busy analyzing that—while Marcus mumbled
about it—that I was surprised when we pulled up to my house.

“Thanks again, Nash.” I turned to him to say sincerely, “I
really appreciate your help.”

“Anytime. I mean it.” He started to lean closer to me. As I
leaned to meet him, I felt my hand reach back and grab the door handle. The
door popped open and Nash froze. I all but felt Marcus dragging me out of the
car.

“I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Sure.” His voice sounded deflated, but he held my gaze for
a second and then I climbed out, grabbed the guitar, and walked to the door.
After I let myself in, he drove off. I paused by the living room window to
watch his car leaving, touching my lips. I’d completely blown it.
Marcus
had
ruined it for me.

I couldn’t do it, Ave.

“You’re not! I am. And I want to kiss him. I’ve been
dreaming about kissing him the entire school year and you just blew it for me.”

“Hey, Ave,” Dawn said from down the hallway.  

I turned slowly, trying to act natural. Her face didn’t give
anything away if she’d heard me. She went into the kitchen.

“Hey … homework to do,” I said as I rushed to my room and
locked the door behind me. I couldn’t kiss Nash—I couldn’t even act normal
around my friends anymore. We had to do something to change this.

After setting the guitar down on the bed, I opened my laptop
and googled, “Missing man with blue eyes and blond hair.”

Babe, you think it’ll be that easy?

“Don’t know,” I told him quietly, just happy he didn’t say
anything more about Nash. There were a few news stories but the top link was a
Pinterest Board of missing people. We have a winner! 

More like thousands of pictures. What the heck is this site?

“You haven’t heard of Pinterest? It’s where you pin all your
favorite things from online. You know, recipes, flower pics, favorite books—”

Girly stuff. Okay, got it. But what’s this?

I scrolled down the page and still wasn’t anywhere close to
the end of it. There were literally thousands of photographs of missing people.