Page 14 of The Wrong Side of Kai
When I get uptown, I’m not surprised to find the streets quiet. It’s late on a November Monday – too cold and dark for casual strolls down our little main street. It’s the kind of downtown area that movie sets are based on. The kind where most of the stores and restaurants are independent, old-fashioned ones that are loved and supported by the community. I can see the ski and outdoor gear shop on the corner of the block, and I grip my steering wheel tighter.
Our library is just across the street from Rollies where I sat with Chyna this morning, shoveling chocolate chip ice cream into my mouth. I’ve never been here before, so I take a minute to scout out the building as I approach. I pull around back into a parking lot where only a handful of cars sit. Kai was right. The library isn’t going to be packed an hour before closing on a Monday night, and anyone whoisthere won’t be under the age of twenty-five, most likely. Maybe one of the cars is Kai’s? I abandon the Green McRusty across two bays because I’m too lazy to straighten up, then lock up and apprehensively head toward the building in search of the entrance. Do I need a library card to even step foot through the door?
I shove my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. Black, of course, to match my jeans. Like a gangster, lurking around town late at night. I keep my head down and shuffle past the main desk, but the intense silence in here makes me feel as though there’s a giant spotlight shining over my head. There’s no librarian at the desk, thank God. There’s a woman stacking books onto shelves over in the children’s area. A man typing ferociously on one of the computers. A girl browsing the crime section while balancing a tower of paperbacks in her arms.
“Psssst.”
I glance over, and I spot Kai peering at me through a gap in the shelves of the self-help section. He glances around as though any of the three other people here are actually paying attention, then waves me over.
Seeing Kai’s blue eyes again makes my heart pump a couple beats quicker. I walk over to meet him behind the shelves, and I bite back a smile when I discover his attire. He’s wearing a black Nike hoodie, ripped black jeans, and black sneakers. He got my memo. “Excuse me, where are your gloves?” I say, folding my arms across my chest and feigning disappointment.
Kai reaches into the front pouch of his hoodie and pulls out a pair of red football gloves. “Do these count?” When I laugh, he puts them away again and runs a hand along the spines of the books to his left. “Unfortunately, there isn’t an idiot’s guide on how to exact revenge. We’ll have to do the hard work ourselves.”
“I have ideas,” I say. “I just need your help executing them.”
“Well, damn, call me The Executor.” He clears his throat, pulls a tiny notepad out of the back pocket of his jeans, then reaches for the pen he has resting behind his ear. It’s all very serious. “Let’s get started, Nessie.”
I have yet to decide if his attitude is entertaining or annoying. It’s refreshing, for sure. The guys at Westerville North aren’t like this. Maybe it’s a Central thing. Maybe they’re more laid-back. Maybe they couldn’t care less about trying to impress. Or maybe this is just Kai.
I follow him over to some tables in the center of the library floor and he pulls out a chair, straddling it. I sit down next to him, leaving a safe gap of a single empty chair between us. At the end of the day, I don’t even know this guy. Personal space is a must.
“Can you stop calling me the name of some mythical Scottish legend?” I say before we get started. I mean, seriously?Nessie?When has thateverbeen an acceptable nickname for Vanessa?
Kai sets down the notepad and clicks his pen, arching a brow at me. “You thought of a better one?”
“No, but. . .”
“Ideas, Nessie,” he says, cutting me off. He hovers the pen patiently in mid-air and smiles at me the same way he did in the school office. A devious smirk, yet the warmth in his blue-gray eyes makes his expression seem less ruthless. “Share them.”
My shoulders sink. Nessie it is, I guess. “Well, I want to slash his truck tires,” I admit, propping an elbow up on the table as I watch him scribble down my words in the notepad. His handwriting is steady and neat, making my heart tilt as I remember how he held my hand to write on it earlier.
He looks up from the notepad. “What else?”
“Can we hack into his phone? Or at least mess with his social media accounts somehow? My best friend can help.”
“We would need to get our hands on his phone in the first place, but it’s definitely an idea.” His smile widens and he begins to write again. Without looking up, he quietly asks, “By the way. . . How’s the backlash? You know, after today?” The concern in his words surprises me.
But I also want to scream at the reminder of that stupid video. I sink further into my chair and shrug, casting a quick glance around the library to make sure no one from school has suddenly turned up. As if anyone would. “I skipped classes and I haven’t opened Twitter all day, so honestly, I’ve been running from it. But it doesn’t take a genius to know what everyone is saying about me.” As I watch Kai write down some notes, chewing on his lower lip, an awful thought creeps into my mind. A curiosity that I need to indulge. “Did you watch it? That video?”
He glances up, his expression blank. “No.”
“No?” I echo in disbelief. It feels subconscious, the way I pull my jacket shut around me, shrinking into it. I’m almost afraid to look him in the eye.
“Not everyone is a jerk, you know,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring, and it stuns me when he places a hand on my shoulder – even makes me gulp. He leans in closer and offers me a smile that eases the tightness in my chest just a little. “I promise you, hand on heart, that I haven’t watched that video and I don’t plan to. Captain Washington doesn’t judge, but Harrison is a scumbag for leaking it. That’s why we’re gonna inflict some serious damage in return.” He takes his hand from my shoulder, focuses his attention back on the notepad.
It’s oddly comforting that this stranger with zero loyalties to me chose not to watch the video and bask in my misfortune. He could have sneered just like everyone else, but he didn’t. It gives me hope that perhaps there are others at school like him, that thereisa small minority out there who are capable of taking a moral stance even when everyone else is so quick to grab a moment’s amusement at someone else’s misery. I was never one of those people – but now I wish I had been. What goes around comes around. . . Ugh.
“You haven’t told me whatyourreason for doing this is,” I say with an edge to my voice, hoping I can coerce him into telling me. “You said it wasn’t a football thing. What, then?”
Kai smirks, but doesn’t look up, only inksOperation Harr-assassinatein 3D writing so that it looks like graffiti on the page. “I also said it was apersonalthing.”
“And you don’t think my sex life is personal?” I fire back, pursing my lips at him. “C’mon, you know my motive. Now tell me yours.”
“I’ve got an idea,” he says with great enthusiasm, avoiding my question and changing the subject back to the real matter at hand. “Do you know where Harrison lives?”
“Over in Brookstone. I only ever saw his basement.”
Kai raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head. “I don’t even want to ask,” he says, then adds the name of Harrison’s neighborhood to our notes. So far, the page could do with some more details; it’s looking a little empty. “How easy do you think it’d be to get inside his house?”
