The Hemlock Girl Read online

  Immense jealousy overtakes me as I stare at the strands, blowing in the breeze of the slightly open window. “You have like super nice hair,” I admit. “I mean,” I mumble, trying to retract my statement.

  Jasper turns to me and smiles. “Thanks, I’ve been growing it out for a while now. My dad has long hair, so I thought maybe I should try it. A lot of the surfers back in Cali have long hair, too. My house is right over there,” he directs.

  A large green and white sign reading Hemlock Lake greets us as we turn into a quaint development. Speed bumps hit my tires often, threatening to do damage if I dare travel faster than a turtle. A man with white hair sits in the grass on a golf cart to my right. With a beer in his hand, he studies my car, knowing it doesn’t belong here.

  Jasper rolls down his window. “Hey, Frank. Your ol’ lady got ya on neighborhood watch again?” he asks.

  “I’m always watchin’ you kids,” Frank explains pointing at us with his bent finger. “Now, more importantly, who is your lady friend?” Frank leans forward looking around Jasper and setting his sights on me. I sink down in my seat, hoping to become invisible.

  Jasper shifts his body between us to block Frank’s view. “My friend, Karissa,” he cautions. “Stop being a dirty old man. Go home!”

  Frank drives away and Jasper shifts back in his seat, and his hand accidentally touches mine. I pull it away quickly and place it on the steering wheel. Biting my lip, I remain silent, wondering if Jasper felt the same jolt of electricity between us as I did.

  After running his fingers through his hair, he shakes his wrist and two woven bracelets fall. I try to read the inscriptions on them. “Take this left. My house is right here. You can just park out front by that fence.”

  I shift my glance from his bracelets to the street, following his directions. With my foot on the brake, I leave the engine running. Jasper turns to grab his bag from the back seat and I have to force myself to lean away. The metal on his hoodie’s zipper runs across the tops of my knuckles and his scent flows by my nostril. Without a thought, I lean in discreetly and take a deep breath of his hair.

  He pulls his bag to the front and sets it on his lap. “You wanna come in?” he asks.

  “Yes!” I respond before giving it a second thought.

  Jasper laughs at my enthusiasm. “Sweet.”

  Scrunching my face with embarrassment, I pull the keys and follow Jasper through the metal gate. After locking it, I continue down the ivy-lined path to a small ranch home with green siding. The screen door swings open and an overweight yellow lab dashes out.

  “That’s just Roxy. She’s a doofus,” Jasper says, patting her on the butt. “Come on in.”

  Roxy’s wet nose tickles my bare calf as she sniffs my shoes. Her butt wags so hard that she breaks off sticks and leaves from the bush behind her.

  “That thing is a lethal weapon,” I mumble to her as she stares at me with deep brown eyes. “Yes, you’re a good girl,” I insist with a pat on her forehead. Growing bored with me, she wanders into the woods with her nose to the ground. I follow Jasper inside and slam the door into a farmhouse table. “I’m sorry!”

  “No worries, Riss,” Jasper laughs as he tosses his bag on a bench to my left. “Happens daily.”

  I close the door gingerly, struggling to keep from damaging anything in its path. Turning back to the room, I finally get a chance to examine my surroundings. A navy blue tablecloth and a bowl of oranges sit atop the table. Windows travel from the floor to the ceiling allowing all of the afternoon sun to bask upon a large variety of plants that hang from the exposed beams. Classical music plays softly from a stereo in the corner.

  A woman with long black hair braided halfway down her back, stands in the kitchen waiting for me to notice her. “I apologize, I didn’t see you there,” I state, embarrassed.

  “Mom, this is Karissa. She gave me a ride home from practice. She does the lights for the play. Karissa, this is my mom, Jeanette.”

  I walk toward her with an outstretched hand. It’s obvious that she has noticed the age difference between her son and I, and is hesitant on offering her hand in return. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say, hoping to win her over.

  Reluctantly, she offers a quick shake before turning her back to me and fixing a cup of tea. “So, have you ever been to Hemlock before, Karissa?” she asks.

  I shake my head, while gazing around the room. A painting hangs above the breakfast bar of a surfer catching a wave. I wonder what brought them here from California, but save that question for another day. Jasper disappears further into the house, leaving me alone in the kitchen with his mom.

  The silence is deafening as Jeanette turns around and leans against the counter, studying me. I begin to back away toward the front door, as her eyes stalk my movement.

  “Karissa!” Jasper yells from deeper in the house. “Come check this out.”

  Jeanette stands between us with a steaming cup of tea in her hand and a raised eyebrow. I remain motionless, unsure of whether to stay or go.

  “Well, are you just gonna stand there?” Jasper’s voice slides from the corner of the kitchen as he peeks around the trim. “I want to show you the rest of the house.”

  A slight smile encompasses my lips, but I scare it away before Jeanette notices. “Maybe some other time,” I insist.

  His face turns from joy to sorrow immediately. “Really?”

  I twist the knob on the door, preparing to exit.

  “Don’t be silly, Karissa,” Jeanette states. “Why don’t you stay for a bit?” With a small nod, she takes a sip of her tea and walks past me claiming a seat at the kitchen table. With her approval, I follow Jasper deeper into the house. In the living room, family photos line the mantle and end tables. A vase full of daisies rests in the center of a dark wooden coffee table, next to a pile of plastic coasters with Santa Cruz painted on the tops. To my left, a huge mirror hangs on a pale-yellow wall.

  “This is my room,” Jasper explains, taking a seat on the bed.

  I stand in the doorway. Navy blue paint leads to white shelves along the far wall. Wrestling trophies, shell necklaces, and surfing knick-knacks are stacked upon them, threatening to fall with one tiny nudge. His bed sheets are tousled around as he slides forward on them, resting his elbows on his knees. Roxy runs outside of his window, chasing a squirrel up the hemlock tree in the neighbor’s yard.

  Jasper pulls a cd from the rack next to him. “What kinda music do you like?”

  “Eh, a little bit of everything,” I respond as I continue looking around.

  He points to a bean-bag chair in the corner. “You can sit down, ya know. You seem super uncomfortable.”

  I’m slightly offended and unaware of my transparency. Looking for an escape, I turn back to the living room and glance out of the bay window. “I was thinking you could show me the rest of the place? Maybe even the lake?”

  “Sure.” He leads me through the living room and out onto the back deck. Wrought iron railings line the porch and Jasper takes a seat on a wicker bench, staring down toward the lake through the breaks in the trees. “We just moved here a few months back,” he explains. “My mom and dad split up. He stayed back in Cali, and we moved out here ‘cause Mom wanted a fresh start. It’s a whole lot different here, but I’m trying to embrace it. I miss the beach and the sound of the waves. It’s just something that’s in my blood, ya know? I’ll go back though after I graduate, for sure.”

  Jasper has a beautiful soul. The way he speaks about life and nature shows his innate beauty both inside and out. He encompasses things that most people dream about having. He is mature beyond his years, and yet holds the innocence of a young child. These things make Jasper so easy to be around and a personality that you could absolutely fall in love with. I listen to him talk about his old home in California and his similarities to his dad, before following him out of the house into the forest.

  His sky blue eyes glance back at me, burning through any wall that I struggled to build, hopin
g to protect myself from falling victim to his charm. “Careful on the steps, they can be a little rough.”

  I push the ivy out of my path as I follow him down the makeshift stone stairway. In front of us, I catch a glimpse of the water’s edge. In the distance, two kids splash in the lake while their parents sit on the sand of the beach. Jasper coaxes me to a nearby dock, and takes a seat on the worn wood, leaning against the post. A small row boat sways in the water below his feet.

  “It’s not the same as the Pacific, but there’s something comforting about the water,” he explains as he snaps a twig in between his fingers, tossing tiny pieces into the lake. “It calms my soul.”

  “It’s pretty, for sure,” I respond, taking a seat next to him.

  He glances over at me and smiles. Handing me a piece of his stick, he continues sharing his life story. “I have a brother, Josh. Don’t like, decide you think he’s cooler than me or anything, ok?”

  It was the first time Jasper has shown vulnerability or insecurity. I have zero interest in his brother -- I can’t imagine that Josh would even be able to compete with Jasper, on any level. “That’s impossible,” I respond with a flirtatious wink.

  Jasper laughs. “Good.”

  ***

  An hour passes, and my phone vibrates in my pocket. “I have to head home soon for supper,” I explain, annoyed.

  “That sucks,” Jasper sulks.

  “So, I guess I’ll see you at dress rehearsal tomorrow night?”

  “You can’t leave yet,” he responds, jumping to his feet and taking off up the road. “You gotta meet the boys, first.”

  Chapter 3

  Jasper grabs my hand and drags me behind him. “C’mon, Riss, if you want to hang with me, you gotta get along with the whole crew.”

  My feet hurry behind him, but my mind is stuck focusing on our hands. His fingers are so incredibly soft and welcoming. My hand, a separate entity from my mind, grips his palm tighter. He squeezes back in return and a warm-tingle courses through my body. Finally, an inner voice of reason chimes in. No, Karissa, he’s a freshman. You’re two years older than him. Don’t even think about it. Succumbing to reality, I pull my hand away and jog to catch up.

  “So, where are we going?” I ask.

  “To see what Keith is doing,” he responds.

  “Um, ok. He’s cool with us just dropping in?” I wonder. Jasper’s hand brushes against mine as we walk and I lose my train of thought.

  “There is an open door policy at Hemlock. We are all family here,” Jasper explains as he jumps over a stick in the road. “That’s Keith’s house,” he explains, pointing to a small white ranch house in front of us.

  “Who is Keith?” I ask.

  “Keith is our neighbor. His family moved here a few years back. His mom is probably the only parent that doesn’t particularly like me, but luckily she stays inside most of the time. His parents own the two small houses you see. They live in one, and Keith lives in the other since he turned 18.” Jasper grabs my hand as we cross the street. I can’t seem to force myself to pull away. “We go in around back,” he explains.

  My fingers entwine with his as we make our way around the house. A garbage can is spilled over to our left, its contents obviously rummaged through by some sort of woodland creature. Two bikes and several baseball bats line the wall. Jasper leads me up three steps to a small porch. Still holding my hand in his, he knocks on the door, sharing a cocky smile with me. My cheeks blush, and I look away before he notices, pulling my hand away simultaneously. With his now free hand, he knocks again, this time louder than the first.

  “Who the hell is it?” a voice yells from inside.

  “Who the hell do you think it is!” Jasper yells back. “Are you decent? I brought a friend.”

  “No,” the voice yells.

  Jasper laughs – the most contagious, heartfelt, belly laugh I’ve ever heard. He pushes the door open and walks inside.

  I refuse to move. “He said, ‘no’, Jasper. I’ll wait here until he’s ready.”

  “He’s just being stupid,” Jasper encourages. “Dumb guy stuff. If we are going to be friends, Riss, you have to learn to trust me.”

  Part of me already did. Trusting his judgement over my own, I slide into the house while he holds the door, unsure of what to expect.

  “Honey, I’m home,” Jasper declares.

  The door leads into a tiny kitchen. On my left is a refrigerator, covered in bottle openers and magnets. To my right is a sink full of dirty dishes, some of which have developed a strange film on the top of whatever liquid was left within them. I follow Jasper into the living room. In the far corner, a guy with strawberry blonde hair sits on the loveseat, sketching a picture.

  “This is Keith,” Jasper explains.

  Keith sets down his paper and pushes himself off the couch. “You didn’t tell me it was a girl,” he says, embarrassed. “I would’ve cleaned up the place. Damnit, Jasper!”

  “Sorry, man,” Jasper apologizes. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

  Keith grabs a baseball cap off the back of the couch and tries to cover his unkempt hair. As he inches closer, I can get a better look at his features. Towering over me, he is all of six foot. Tiny red hairs are camouflaged within his sandy colored goatee. His eyes are grey and soft as they squint with embarrassment. “I’d like to formerly apologize for my messy home, and my messy self. Please, I hope you don’t judge me too much.”

  I shake my head, “Of course not!” Even though his house is messy, I’m impressed that Keith has a place of his own. I study the room, noticing the torn wallpaper and broken fan that hangs from the water stained ceiling.

  Keith puts Jasper in a headlock, and I realize the obvious size difference between them. Jasper flails around, and eventually connects his foot with Keith’s shin. “Ok, ok!” he says. “No need for the violence, Jas.”

  Keith releases his grip, and Jasper adjusts his shirt. “Don’t take me for granted, just ‘cause I’m small.” Walking out of the living room, Jasper leans in and whispers into my ear. “Right, Karissa?” he winks.

  Keith guides us back out of the house onto the porch. A single diamond stud earring shimmers in the evening sun. Basketball shorts, and high socks lead to pure-white sneakers. A golden watch adorns his wrist that he flicks before pulling off his hat and running his fingers though his strawberry-blonde hair.

  “So, is this your first time at Hemlock?” he asks.

  I nod my head. “Yeah, I’ve lived here my whole life and never even knew this place existed.”

  “You’ve been here your whole life?” he repeats.

  I nod my head, feeling judged.

  “Most of the people in this development are transplants. As I’m sure you know, Jasper moved here from California. My family is from about 2 hours west of here, and Paul and Dakota are from New York. Well, not technically New York, but you’ll figure all that out, I suppose.”

  I listen intently as I gaze into the woods. A chipmunk stands on a rock wall behind Keith’s house. It leaps onto a dead tree that had fallen and not been cleaned up for years, breaking away its rotted wood looking for insects.

  From his pocket, Keith pulls a cigar and strikes a match. With a few puffs, a billow of smoke exits his lips and coasts through the air. It offers a sweet scent, and I lean into the smoke to inhale a deep breath. “You like cigars, Riss?” he asks.

  I nod my head and lean away, heading toward the far end of the porch. From here, I can see the corner of the lake. An empty dock is attached to the edge of the gravel road, floating quietly in the calm water.

  To my left, Jasper pulls a cigarette from his back pocket and lights it up. The way he twists it in his fingers before placing it in his mouth is mesmerizing. A breeze of smoke flows between his lips and I’m suddenly jealous of the way it gets to lightly brush against them. His fierce blue eyes catch me staring and he offers a tiny smirk. “Want a puff?” he asks.

  “No, I’m ok,” I respond with immediate
regret.

  “Oh, are you straight edge?” he asks.

  “Not exactly,” I reply.

  “Well, ok then,” he winks.

  Proving my rebellion, I grab the cigarette from his hand and inhale a puff of the menthol flavored smoke. Looking up at him, I exhale tiny circles into the air.

  Jasper’s mouth drops open slightly. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  The banging of a screen door causes the guys to jump. Jasper grabs the cigarette from my hand and flicks it into the woods. Keith quickly extinguishes his cigar and hides it in under his shirt.

  “Keith!” a woman yells. “I better not smell smoke out here, young man!”

  “Who is that?” I whisper.

  “It’s my mom, unfortunately,” Keith responds. “She’s such a killjoy.”

  A short, heavy-set woman rounds the corner. “How many times do I need to tell you to stop smoking those cigars, Keith?” she asks. “How disgusting is it inside that house, by the way? You do realize that I own this house, too. Unless you want to be out on the street, you better start taking better care of things around here!”

  She glances at me and offers no greeting. Instead, she breezes through the door into Keith’s kitchen. Several loud bangs of pots and pans being thrown about convinces me to back away. “Keith Andrew Willman, get your ass in this house now!”

  “And, that’s our cue to go. Sorry, man. I’ll check in with you later,” Jasper says as he offers Keith a handshake. “C’mon Karissa, we better head out.”

  Jasper trots down the steps and waits for me at the bottom, offering his hand for support.

  I shrug him away, “I’m ok, thanks.”

  “So independent,” he smirks. “Can I walk you to your car?” he asks. “Or, is that against the rules, too?”

  “Hmm,” I pretend to ponder his remark. “I guess that would be ok.” I really want him to walk to me to my car. I want to hold his hand. I crave his attention, but there isn’t one ounce of me that is going to allow him to see that.

  “See that brick house,” he says as he lights up another cigarette.