I stood silently in front of her, waiting for her to speak as she stuffed papers into a drawer. She finally closed it and glanced up at me. “Are you feeling all right, Sarah? You look a little pale.”
“I’m tired, that’s all. I’ll do better tomorrow,” I said apologetically.
She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I know you can do it; I’m just concerned for you. Why don’t you go home if you’re not feeling well?”
I panicked. “I’m fine, the day’s already half over, I’ll be okay. Is that all?” I was hoping to leave before she insisted I go home. For some reason, the thought of leaving filled me with dread.
“Well, if you change your mind, don’t worry about your school work, just go. You can catch up later.”
“Thanks, Miss Fitzgerald. See you tomorrow.” I rushed out of the classroom before she could change her mind. It wasn’t my schoolwork keeping me here; it was something else. I just didn’t know what that was.
At lunch, my friends kept telling me how bad I looked and that I should go home. I was getting tried of hearing it.
In history class, I looked over to where Lucas sat, but his chair was empty. Alarm bells went off inside my head. Where was he? Mr. Henderson came in and started his lesson. I glanced at Emma and whispered, “Where’s Lucas?”
“I heard he was sick, why do you want to know?” she smirked. I wasn’t in the mood for teasing.
“Just curious,” I said, looking straight ahead at the chalkboard.
At home after school, I felt restless. And nothing seemed to soothe me. Doing homework or reading didn’t interest me. I thought music would help, but when I put my new CD on, it just made me feel jumpy. There was only one thing that usually helped soothe my nerves when I felt this way. So I headed to the basement rec room. If it didn’t work, nothing could.
I sat down on the stool and placed my hands on the piano keys, They were cold and bumpy against my palm when I swept my hand over them. A loud tinkle of notes erupted in the small room, echoing like an explosion of bells in an empty church. I closed my eyes to listen. There was nothing I enjoyed more than the sound of a piano in perfect tune.
I played my favorite song, trying to lose myself in the music. Next I played the new piece for music class. Screwing up on the ending, I decided today wasn’t the day to practice. I was too preoccupied with playing the dream over and over in my head, and since the song was new to me, playing it on instinct proved difficult. I couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling, so I gave up trying.
Back in my room, I lay on my bed, staring up at the dirt splotch looking for answers. I wished I had Lucas’ phone number. I needed to know that he was all right. That was my problem all day; after my dream last night I had to see him. That’s why I needed to go to school, and why I was anxious all morning, waiting to see him at lunch. When he wasn’t there, I thought for sure he would be in history class. After he didn’t show up, I panicked, feeling like a scared cat with its claws out clinging to a screen door for dear life. Only for me when I couldn’t find him, I had nothing to cling to.
Should I call him? Yeah, right, what was I supposed to say? I only had a couple of conversations with the guy, and I didn’t think we were at the calling stage. What would I even say? “Oh Lucas, I’m just calling to make sure you’re not dead. See you at school.” Yeah, right, I’m not crazy. Or I could go with, “I’ve been dreaming of you and in the last one I had, you died in my arms. It freaked me out, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Yeah, sign me up for a straightjacket. I just needed sleep, I thought, then I’d calm down. I closed my eyes and waited to fall under. It didn’t work. Instead, Lucas’ vacant eyes looked back at me.
I lay there until my mom called me for supper.
Sitting in my chair at the table, I picked at my food. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I ate the macaroni casserole my mom made, not really tasting it, while the conversation went on around me.
“You’re quiet, Sarah. Is there something wrong?” my dad asked between bites.
“Yeah, I’m tired, and I don’t really feel like talking.” I gulped the last bite and shoved away from the table. “I’m finished eating. I’m going to go back to my room if that’s all right?”
My mom and dad exchanged questioning glances, and then my mom answered, “Sure, honey.”
I was putting my dishes in the dishwasher when the phone rang.
“Sarah, could you get that?” my mom shouted from the dining room.
“Sure,” I said, grabbing the phone off of the end table. “Hello.”
“Is Sarah home?” a deep voice asked.
“This is Sarah.”
“Oh hi, it’s Lucas. Is it okay that I’m calling?”
Relief washed over me like a tidal wave. “Yeah, sure.” I headed upstairs to my room, taking the phone with me. In the kitchen, I could hear my mom and dad arguing with Alex about something. I really didn’t care. I had my own problems.
I fell onto my bed, my weight making the pillows bounce. “What’s up?”
“I was sick today, and I don’t want to get behind in class, so I was wondering if I could borrow your notes. You’re the only one I’ve spoken to in history. If you don’t want to lend them to me, I could ask Mr. Henderson.”
I smiled to myself. That’s what happens when you only talk to a few people in school. You might feel a little weird asking someone you don’t know for a favor. “Sure, no problem, there wasn’t much today anyway. If you want, I could give them to you at lunch, it shouldn’t take you long to copy them.”
“Sounds good. If you could bring them to the cafeteria, I’ll pick them up and copy them while I eat.”
“All right. So you’re feeling better then?” I asked, playing with the zipper from the hoodie I was wearing.
“Yeah, I think it was a twenty-four-hour thing. It started yesterday at work, and I had to go home. I guess my manager didn’t like the idea of my throwing up on the customers.”
“Well, it’s not very good customer service.”
He laughed. “When do you work next?”
It sounded like he was trying to make conversation. “I work Wednesday and Saturday, same shift as last week, you?”
“I have to work Thursday night and Saturday until five. I hate working Saturday nights, so I always work the day shift. I’m in good with the owners, so it works out.”
“Who owns it?”
“My parents.”
“Oh, I feel stupid. You know, I didn’t even notice the name when my mom took me there last week.”
“Sabour. It’s my mom’s maiden name.”
“That’s a cool name. I should probably get off the phone though. I still have to do my homework, unlike some people.”
“Yeah, I’ll just have to do double tomorrow. I’ll see you at school. Have a good night, Sarah.”
“You too, Lucas.” I hung up in a much better mood.
It took me the rest of the night to finish my homework and afterward I went to bed early. Because of my restless night I could barely keep my eyes open.
As I shut the door to my car the next morning in the school parking lot, Emma came up beside me. “You look much better today.”
I smiled. “I feel much better too. I was just tired and cranky; I didn’t sleep well the night before.” We came up to the front doors and walked right through; Jeff Lewis held it open, winking at Emma.
We were almost to my locker when I noticed Derrick wasn’t tagging along behind us. “Where’s Derrick?” I asked, surprised he wasn’t with Emma. They’d been joined at the hip since their first date.
“He’s sick, some kind of flu, he was throwing up all last night. It was so gross.” She scrunched up her face and made a gagging sound. Apparently it was contagious, first Lucas and now Derrick.
“Eww. I hope he’s okay.”
“He’ll be fine; I heard it was a bug going around.” She didn’t seem too concerned.
“I’ll see you at lunch, Emma,” I said, heading to my fi
rst class. It was very quiet without Derrick there, but since we had a movie, he didn’t miss much.
At lunch, I sat at our usual table in the cafeteria, reading and waiting for Emma. She was late, which was weird since she was always the first one here. “Are you hiding from someone?” asked a deep voice. I could smell some kind of sweet, spicy scent.
I was hunched in my chair with my book leaning up on the table, my head leaning over it. “I’m reading, ever heard of it?” I smiled, looking up into the deep hazel eyes of one of the two best-looking guys in school.
“Nope, never.” Lucas sat down beside me and placed his lunch and history book on the table in front of him. We smiled at each other, remembering one of our first conversations. Why did I feel so comfortable with him?
“Where’s Emma?”
I was about to answer him when Andy sat on the chair across from mine. “Hey, are we eating here today?” he asked, looking at Lucas.
“Are we?” Lucas glanced at me.
“You might as well; you won’t have to bring me my book back when you’re finished with it.” I bent down to pull my notebook out of my bag and handed it to him.
Andy grinned at us, his green eyes lit up with humor. “Cool.” He took his lunch out of his backpack and placed it on the table.
My cell phone rang. I reached in my bag to answer it. “Hello?”
“Sarah, I’m so sorry I left without telling you. But I almost heaved on my desk in math class,” Emma said roughly.
“You left?”
“Yes, I just got home. Are you going to be okay by yourself? Who’s that?” She must have heard Lucas and Andy yelling to Kyle. He was standing in front of their usual table, holding a tray of food, looking a bit lost.
“Um…Lucas and Andy.” I heard a squeal.
“Oh, I shouldn’t have done that, I gotta go. Bye.” She hung up. I didn’t want to know what she was doing.
“Hey, why are we sitting here?” Kyle asked when he sat down beside Andy, who was grinning wickedly, looking back and forth between Lucas and me.
“Lucas is borrowing Sarah’s history notes, right, Luke?” Andy answered, wiggling his eyebrows, pale blond hair falling into his eyes.
“Yes, and I want to copy them before class starts so shut up.” Lucas leaned over his book, scribbling quickly.
Kyle started talking to Andy about a project they had together in geography, so I took a bite of my sandwich.
“Where are Emma and Derrick?” Andy asked.
I swallowed and then replied, “Derrick has the flu so he’s sick today and Emma just went home with the same thing.”
“If it’s what I had, they should be fine by tomorrow,” Lucas said, in between bites of his sandwich.
Andy was grinning at us again. “So Sarah, you should come out with us Saturday night, we’re going to a party my cousin’s having. Shouldn’t she, Luke?” He finished off his sandwich by stuffing the rest of it in his mouth.
Lucas stared at Andy coldly. “I don’t think Sarah would be into it. Your cousin's parties can get kind of wild.”
Lucas’ reaction surprised me. He hardly knew me, and yet he seemed to be watching out for me. “I have to work Saturday night anyway.” They didn’t need to know that I was off at seven.
“Maybe next time,” Andy mumbled with his mouth still full of food. He swallowed and turned to Kyle again, while Lucas copied my notes.
I picked up my book and began to read.
“Well, you two are boring. Lunch is almost over. Andy, do you want to go see what Laurie and Amanda are up to?” Kyle asked Andy, running his hand through his thick brown hair.
“Sure, see you later, guys.” Andy stood up and started walking toward Laurie and Amanda’s table, over by the window.
A few minutes later, Lucas lifted his head. “Done.” He shoved his book and lunch into his bag then turned to me. His intense gaze held mine for several seconds. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. “I’m glad you bumped into me, Sarah,” he said softly, leaning in closer. He lifted his hand as if to touch my face, then hesitated and instead placed it on mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. I felt an electric pulse at his touch. “See you in class,” he whispered, his face so close to mine, I could feel his breath. He stood up and walked out of the cafeteria.
I was frozen in my seat. Because of his soft touch and the look in his eyes, I thought for a moment I’d lost the ability to move or speak. No other guy had ever had the same effect on me. Sure I’d had others flirt with me. I’d even been kissed by a few on dates. But after that one touch and soft words from Lucas, I was gone. There was no turning back.
Chapter Seven
Distractions
At home, hours later, I decided to make dinner to take my mind off a certain twin. Since my mom had left out chicken, I thought I’d make her favorite, fettuccine Alfredo. She liked to add chicken to it, and it was the only way I knew how to make it.
When I placed the chicken in the hot pan, it sizzled and popped. While it cooked, I gathered the rest of the ingredients and busied myself making the best meal I could.
I was almost finished when I heard a voice. “You're making dinner?” I turned to see my mom standing in the kitchen doorway, face flushed, hair messy, as she stared at me in disbelief.
“Is it still windy?” I asked, lifting the cooked chicken pieces out of the pan with a fork.
She brushed her long bangs out of her face with a smile. “Yes, it’s like a tornado out there. Why are you cooking?” She stripped off her black suede coat and set it and her briefcase on a chair.
I smiled at her reaction. It hadn’t been that long since I cooked, had it? “I felt like it. I needed to take my mind off some things.”
I moved over to the pot of Alfredo sauce, gave it a quick stir, and then checked on the pasta that was boiling on the back burner. Steam curled up into the air; I stirred it to avoid the noodles sticking together. The last time I attempted to make pasta, I forgot to stir the noodles, and when I finally remembered, they were all in a big clump. We ordered pizza that night. Maybe that was the reason my mother was so surprised.
“Thank you; I’ve had a long day, so you picked the perfect time to help out. If you don’t mind, I have a few papers to see to. I’ll come back and help you when I’m done.”
“Mom, I can handle it by myself.” I started cutting the chicken into chunks.
She grinned, kissed me on the forehead, and rushed upstairs. “Don’t forget to stir the noodles.” I heard her yell. Funny, very funny.
The smell of garlic floated out of the oven, reminding me that the garlic bread I had put in earlier was almost finished. I opened the door and peered inside. The bread was golden brown. Perfect. I took the pan out before it burned, and placed the bread on a plate.
I had just finished the rest of the dinner and was setting the table when I heard the front door open and close.
“Mmm, dinner smells great. Did you make it yourself?” my dad asked from the doorway, looking as surprised as my mom had been. Maybe I should start to help out more often, if I shocked them this much.
He walked over and dipped his finger in the sauce that was simmering on top of the stove. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Dad, that’s gross, there’s a spoon right there.” I pointed to the counter beside the stove. “Will you call Alex and Mom, they're both upstairs.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back. I can’t wait to eat, that sauce tasted delicious.” He hurried up the stairs.
I had to admit it did smell good. While I mixed the sauce, chicken, and noodles into one large bowl, I heard my family settling down at the table.
“That looks good, honey,” my mother said when I placed the bowl in the center of the table. I watched them scoop out their dinner before I took my turn.
We were quiet while we ate; the only sounds were the scrapes of silverware and my dad’s yummy noises. “Wow, Sarah, this is really good,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Thank you. Mom, if you want,
I can cook once a week to help you out.”
She glanced up from her plate, surprised. “Are you sure? You already have work, school, and piano, I don’t want to interfere with your homework.”
“I always do it when I get home anyway. I have time after that, and once a week isn’t a big deal.”
She beamed at me. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”
“So what’s with you and Lucas Tate? I saw you eating with him at lunch today,” Alex mumbled with his mouth full. My mom grinned; my dad looked worried.
“Nothing, he called last night and asked if he could use my history notes, so I lent them to him at lunch.” I looked down at my food, hoping that if I didn’t make eye contact, they would forget about it.
“So why were you sitting so close and staring into each other’s eyes?” What the hell was wrong with Alex? Why wouldn’t he let it go? The kid always ignored me, and now he had a sudden interest in my love life. I narrowed my eyes at him, staring daggers in his direction, hoping he’d take my hint and shut up.
He only leaned back in his chair and gave me a lazy smile.
“What’s going on, Sarah? If things are getting serious with this boy, I want to meet him.” My father had gone white as he dropped his fork down on his plate with a clang.
“Oh stop it, there is nothing going on. If there were, I wouldn’t be discussing it with all of you.” I spun on my brother. “And Alex, what are you doing watching me at lunch? Mind your own business.” I was yelling, I didn’t know why, but any time Alex looked at me that way, it made me feel like we were kids again and the urge for an argument was too strong to fight.
“You seem a little defensive, honey,” my mom pointed out, absently running her finger along her water glass.
“Well, I feel like everyone is ganging up on me. What’s with all the questions?” I admit I was whining and overreacting, but I didn’t care. “I’m finished eating, I’m going to do my homework.” I shoved back in my chair—the wooden legs rubbed against the hardwood floor, making my mom cringe—and stomped into the kitchen. After I put my dishes in the dishwasher, I went upstairs.
Fated Dreams (Book One In The Affinity series) Page 6
