Page 7 of In Harmony

Angie shrugged, her freckle-smattered nose wrinkling. “It’s a dumb rumor, but I couldn’t blame the guy. They live all the way on the edge of town, by themselves in that shitty trailer surrounded by a car graveyard.” She shivered.

Now my eyes sought signs of Isaac’s poverty and found it at once in his scuffed boots and faded jeans. Poor but proud. Not one thing about him begged pity.

“Okay, but he didn’t kill his dad,” I said.

Angie flapped her hands. “Charles Pearce will show up in town eventually. The rumors will rest for a few weeks then start up again. It’s been this way since Isaac’s mom died about ten years ago. He used to come to school all bruised up. Not so much these days. I mean, look at his build. He’s strong enough to fight back now. Why wouldn’t he?”

I had no answer to that. I didn’t want to think about how horrible it would be, not only to be hit by your own father, but to have to fight back. To defend yourself.

“Onstage, Isaac’s a whole different animal,” Angie said. “An ungodly, sexy beast. He plays all these emotional parts—screaming and crying onstage. Couple of years ago, the community theater did Angels in America, and he and another dude kissed. You’d think that would’ve been a death sentence but it wasn’t. He’s untouchable.”

Untouchable.

The word sang to me like a lullaby. Everything safe was in those four syllables. Everything I wanted to be but wasn’t.

Neither is Isaac, I thought. He’s not untouchable to his dad.

“You should come to the latest play tonight or tomorrow,” Angie said. “Watch Isaac act.”

“He’s good?”

She snorted. “Good? It’s a transformative experience. I’m not a big fan of plays myself, but watching Isaac Pearce onstage…” She gave me a sly look. “Bring a spare pair of panties is all I’m saying.”

“Maybe I will,” I said. “Go, I mean.”

“Let’s go tonight,” she said brightly. “It’s Oedipus Rex at the community theater. I know, I know, Greek tragedy is a snooze, right? But trust me, with Isaac in the lead…” Her shoulders gave a little shiver. “I’ve already seen it twice. The show closes tomorrow but I can squeeze one more in. For you.” She nudged my arm. “Aren’t I the best welcome wagon?”

“I don’t know, you’re my first.”

Angie fished a ballpoint pen out of her backpack, grabbed my hand, and wrote down her phone number on my palm. I flinched; her pen was inches from the concealed ink of my black X’s on my wrist.

“Tonight at eight,” she said. “Text me when you get the okay from your ‘rents. I’ll be waiting for you outside the theater.”

I blinked at the sudden social engagement thrust upon me. My Friday night plans typically involved reading, drinking tea or binge-watching Black Mirror on Netflix. A quiet night in the ice palace.

I heard myself saying, “Yeah, okay. I’ll text you.”

“Brill.” Angie beamed. “And come find me and my crew at lunch. You can avoid the usual New Kid Who Eats Alone bullshit.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome wagon extraordinaire, darling.”

The bell rang. She blew me a kiss and trotted off to class. I moved more slowly, my gaze lingering on Isaac over the open door of my locker. He looked up.

For a second, through the steamed-up glass doors, his eyes met mine. I was struck all over again by the dangerous beauty of this guy. He was a sleek dagger. He’d cut you with a look if you didn’t know how to handle him.

And I’d stolen his seat in English class.

Maybe let’s not do that again…

Isaac tilted his chin at me, then ground his cigarette out and sauntered back into the building. He strode past me, smelling of smoke and the cold bite of winter, a hint of peppermint. He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him. But, like me, the students all stared. Everyone stared. Mesmerized.

I’d never learned to drive in New York City, there was simply no need. I didn’t even have a learner’s permit. So, I took the school bus home from George Mason. It lumbered and lurched toward the east side of Harmony, where the road started winding through small foothills. The houses were immense on this side of town, with wide, sprawling yards. More than one property boasted horse paddocks and barns. I’d never imagined having so much space around a house. Backyards, front yards, side yards. And trees everywhere. They were skeletal with winter, but it was easy to imagine them green and full in summer, or bursting orange and red in autumn. Easy and enjoyable. I found myself looking forward to that.

My mother wasn’t as enthusiastic.

“I hope our homeowners’ insurance covers Indian raids,” she’d said to Dad when we first arrived. “And locust swarms.”