I unlocked the front door of my large house eagerly, feeling glad Ellen wasn’t home yet. I needed the time to compose myself, to get my thoughts in order before anyone else’s intruded. Unlike the apartments I was used to, the house provided me with enough room to do just that. It was another thing I was starting to like about it.
Figuring that having something to do would be better than dwelling on my strange day, I spent a good forty minutes on the homework I’d been given. It was insanely easy, but it kept me occupied. When I finished my last algebra problem, I left the sanctity of my bedroom and went to cook dinner. As I put the lasagna in the oven to bake, I heard the door open and Ellen called my name.
“In here!” I called back.
She looked tired, but happy, as she walked into the bright kitchen. “Hey! How was your first day?”
“Typical-ish.”
She laughed at me. “Lots of questions, right? I told you there would be lots of questions.”
I made a face at her and went to the refrigerator to get out the salad. “How was your day?” I asked focused on washing the lettuce.
“It was good, busy, but good.”
“I met Alex Lawson today,” I said.
And a stupid boy I beat at tennis. And a bunch of kids that apparently decided to make me popular. And teachers that not only knew you when you were young but were jealous of you.
Her face brightened noticeably. “Sam’s daughter?”
“Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”
“Cool,” she replied.
I frowned, trying to remember the receptionist’s name. It came to me. “Oh, and Heather Smith or Thomas said to tell you ‘hi.’ I think she wanted you to know that she is married…to an old boyfriend of yours.”
Ellen raised a trembling hand to her mouth. I thought she was going to start crying again, her eyes filling with water. Instead, she started laughing hysterically. “Oh….that hypocrite! She hated me when we were in school together! She didn’t like the fact that I was dating James King. She had a major crush on him.” She snorted with laughter. “Figures, she would marry James’s best friend. He must have been sorry that day.” Trailing laughter down the hall, she went to go change out of her work clothes.
I shrugged to the empty kitchen, thinking that people really were strange, and that despite being able to hear their thoughts, they didn’t make any sense.
When the food was ready, we ate companionably, as was our custom. She told me all about her day, no detail being too small, while I tried to figure out the right way to bring up something that had been bothering me since gym.
My face must have alerted her to my preoccupation, because as we washed the dishes she asked, “Are you sure everything was okay today? You seem a bit…distracted.”
“Well, no, not really.”
Her drying hand slowed and she gave me a penetrating look. “What?”
Her voice was serious and I knew where her thoughts had gone. I was in the same place. It was a place I was not happy about. It was our default mode: running. Despite not wanting to live in such a tiny town, I hated moving and hated the thought of facing another first day so soon after this one.
“You know about my…”
“Gift? Of course I do,” she said quickly.
She was uncomfortable, and I knew why. She felt guilty about everything that was happening to me; guilty for the curse I faced. But I didn’t blame her, especially since she’d been honest with me about everything. “Well, this morning in gym class I heard a girl say in her thoughts, ‘I guess it is true that the child pays for the sins of the parent,’ and I was wondering if she somehow knew?”
Ellen put down the plate and braced herself against the countertop. Her face was sad. “I don’t think she knows what you are. I think she’s just been talking to her parents.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I told you how conservative people are here?”
“Yes.”
“Some people here feel that a mother who has a child outside of marriage is a sinful creature, and that the child will be punished because of the mother’s lack of morals.”
“Those people are backwards,” I said, my temper flaring.
“It’s what they believe.”
“Well, they should believe in something different!”
“Saying that doesn’t change anything, Clare…You of all people shouldn’t judge them.”
I scrubbed hard at the plate in my hands, focusing my anger there. “I shouldn’t judge people even though their opinions suck?!”
“No, that’s not what I meant. You simply know how hurtful judgmental thoughts can be,” she replied. “You hear them all the time.”
“I just don’t like people thinking bad thoughts about you.” I avoided her eyes as I asked the next question. “You think we should leave?”
“No,” she said firmly, putting an end to the discussion. Her face transformed into a penetrating look I recognized all too well. “Are you sure that’s the only reason for your preoccupation? It feels like there’s more.” Did you meet a cute boy?
I fought my blush, hating that my pale skin flushed with color so easily. How could she possibly know that I kept thinking about stupid Mr. Popularity and everything he had said to me? Our moments together kept replaying in my head like a broken record as I tried to understand if he was something else I should be worried about, or if it was okay to feel attracted to him. Not that I was attracted. Not at all.
“There were a couple of cute boys, but don’t worry, they’re part of the Elite. They won’t be interested in me beyond the fact that I’m new and different. Once my shininess wears off, they’ll go back to ignoring me.”
“Well, you do look a bit dark, sweetie, not that you are dark. Judgmental thoughts remember?”
I laughed once without humor. “Yeah.”
Irritated, I dumped the water from the tub I had been washing in. There was no way he would be interested. Ellen was right. I was too dark. “I’m going to go on a walk,” I said.
“All right.”
I started to leave the kitchen, but she stopped me with a hand on the shoulder. Her thoughts circled around the idea that people thought I was a degenerate because of her youthful actions. “Clare…I wanted to tell you…”
“Yeah?”
“If I wasn’t so against clichés, I’d say you were my sunshine.”
“It’s a good thing you hate clichés, then.”
“Yeah…but you are, you know…my sunshine, not a cliché.”
“I love you, too,” I said.
She dropped her arm and leaned against the counter, deep in thought. Her thoughts were focused on the idea that I would pay for her sin. I walked down the hall and out the front door, trying to block her sadness.
Hurrying to get away from her guilt, I barreled through the door and walked up the street, finally not feeling the bitter wind on me. My thoughts moved back to my father and the reasons why we moved so much; a place I often went when I saw Ellen in such a mood.
Ellen had never been one to keep secrets from me; she was as honest as she was a free and loving spirit. Too, the secret of what I was, of what I would become, was too dangerous to keep from me. I had to understand. I had to know why secrecy was so important, and why our lives depended on me keeping that secret.
When I was twelve, we had rushed home to pack after running into a strange man on the street. He had followed us for two blocks, his strange red eyes obtrusive as he stalked us. We had finally lost him in a crowd of people, but Ellen hadn’t taken the encounter lightly.
As we packed, she had told me in her wonderfully direct way that angels existed and some of them, the ones that were set to watch over humans in the beginning, had fallen from grace by taking humans for mates. She told me how the fallen angels wandered the earth still, occasionally falling in love with humans and making little mistakes like me. That was also the day I learned about the others like me, who were the sons and daughters of angels. They were at war. S
he didn’t know over what.
She did know that the ones like me – the sons and daughters of angels – were divided into two sides, and that each side searched endlessly for recruits. It was the reason we had to keep a low profile and run as often as we did. If a person wasn’t willing, they killed them so that the other side couldn’t have that person as an asset. That’s what people like me were to them – an asset. There was no good side; there was just pain and death if they found you.
I wondered for the millionth time how my father could leave us to that fear and constant paranoia. He had abandoned us to a war we didn’t know how to fight. He could have protected us, he could have made sure we were safe, but he had walked away without even a letter to say where he had gone. Had Ellen and I been mistakes to him? Had he really loved her, or was she just a blink of an eye in his long life? Was I paying for his sin now?
I turned on Main Street and the thoughts, which had been fuzzy and distant, reached the point that I couldn’t ignore them anymore. They surged up like a tornado, circling in my head:
That must be Ellen’s kid. Look at her walking in this cold, what’s she doing?
17, 18, 19 No. Huh. I was sure I laid out twenty.
No! No! You put the starch in first!
I wonder if Billy would be willing to take me to Fiji for our honeymoon.
Billy is going to tell her tonight that we’ve been seeing each other. I’m glad. I’m tired of hiding it.
Of course I love you, baby. Visions of a young couple kissing in the dark flew up, their passion filling my brain.
I put my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the noise, but it was useless. I gasped as more chattering voices flooded over me, visions circling, and I started walking faster. I needed a place that was silent, a place I could be truly alone with my anger.
As I walked past a small store, my head lowered against the wind and the thoughts, I felt an unexpected presence. I turned instinctively and saw Daniel outlined by the door, holding a plastic bag in his hands. I stumbled away from him and kept walking up the sidewalk, not really wanting to hear any more thoughts. Despite his eerie silence, I knew I would hear him eventually.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” He jogged to catch up with me, his long legs closing the distance easily.
“I just set one, that’s why I’m walking so fast. I don’t want them to catch me,” I said.
“I wouldn’t have figured you for being a fire starter.”
“There are probably a lot of things you wouldn’t figure me for,” I retorted.
I walked even faster, feeling self-conscious despite myself. I didn’t know where to put my hands suddenly. They searched for a home, nothing feeling comfortable. I settled for shoving them into my coat pockets.
Daniel chuckled at my words. I looked over at him and saw he was looking at me strangely. “Seriously, where are you going? Can I give you a ride?”
“What is this, some kind of outreach program or something?”
“What do you mean?”
I stopped walking and faced him, my hands finding a familiar home on my hips. My sour mood and the circling voices in my head had me speaking my mind without thought. “It’s been my experience that guys like you don’t pay attention to people like me unless you A. want something, B. want to pull a prank or do something mean, or three feel sorry for me.”
“You said three instead of C.”
“I know…”
“If you’re going to list something, you should do a proper job of it,” he said.
“You’re very odd.”
I started walking again, realizing he wasn’t going to answer my accusation. Was it, ‘D.’ none of the above? As I started walking, the voices in my head lowered perceptibly then cut off completely as if my talent had suddenly found its kryptonite. All I heard was his voice and the occasional, normal, sound of the residents of King’s Cross going about their lives.
“You just met me,” Daniel said.
“Doesn’t mean you’re not strange.”
“True.”
After a moment of that strange, blissful, silence, he said, “So, really, where are we going?”
Now it was “we.”
“I don’t know…I’m just walking.”
“I like to just walk sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Well, who likes to walk all the time?”
“Marathon walkers?”
“There’s no such thing.”
“According to you.”
“According to everyone, Clare.”
I peeked over at him again, a little startled by his familiarity, and the way he said my name. “Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t really seem…”
“Generic, mindless, and full of my own self-importance?” he asked.
“Like a football player.”
He laughed and rolled his eyes.
“How’d that happen?” I asked archly.
While he was certainly athletic, his vibe was very different from that of the average football player. It just didn’t seem to fit him.
“Sometimes, the best defense is a good offense, Clare.” His smooth voice was light, but I sensed he was serious. “In my case, a good offense means playing on the football team.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Not everything is as it appears.”
I snorted. “You can say that again.”
“Not everything is as it appears,” he repeated.
It was my turn to laugh.
“Don’t you have a car or something to get back to?” I asked.
We had made another turn onto a side street going away from the downtown. I was certain he hadn’t parked this far away. It was rude, but I couldn’t help the feeling he was acting interested because, like Mark, he thought I was loose. I wished I was better at really reading people, without the thoughts, like Alex seemed to be.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Yes.” I shook my head knowing that wasn’t true. “No. Look, I’m not really very good with people being this…”
“Attentive?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’ve perfected the art of blending into the background. Your looks have always insured people never really see you. People see the illusion you’ve created, instead of the reality. You don’t know how to handle people being interested in you because of the novelty of your perceived oddness.”
I hugged my arms against my chest not liking how accurate that sounded. Had he somehow crawled into my head while I wasn’t looking? “Sounds to me like you’ve taken Psych 101.”
“I’ll take that to mean I’m right.”
“I like my privacy. Is that wrong?”
“Nope.”
He looked up at the cloudless sky, his eyes reflecting the dusk. I looked up, too, noticing for the first time that a person could see more of the sky here without the buildings getting in the way. It was nice in a ‘secluded, nothing is around, beware of banjos’ way. It was funny it took his glance heavenwards for me to notice.
“Can I walk you home?” he asked suddenly.
I looked back down. My feet slowed, then stopped. “I don’t sleep around,” I blurted out.
His dark eyebrows went into his hairline. I started playing with the necklace Ellen had given me a long time ago, feeling agitated and nervous. I really didn’t want him to be interested in me for the same reasons Mark was. Well, maybe not entirely.
“I mean, I know that Mark just wants to know me because he thinks I’m easy, but I’m not. I’m not like that at all. I want something more lasting…something permanent. My mom got pregnant at seventeen, and I know how hard that was on her…I don’t want that either…” I trailed off realizing I was rambling, and giving more of my personality away than I’d intended to give to a stranger.
His eyes had melted from astonishment, to understanding, to something else I
couldn’t place. “I don’t sleep around either,” he said seriously.
We started walking again, his words releasing me from my agitated state.
There was a moment of silence, in which I felt like an idiot, before he added, “I’d be careful of Mark, by the way. He likes to think of women as a conquest waiting to happen rather than a person waiting to be understood.”
I gave him a penetrating look. He didn’t feel the same way? “Then why are you talking to me? Really?”
“I’m talking to you because you’re the first person to beat me at any sport, ever.” I made a face, wondering if he was still upset about that. “And because you’re different,” he added.
“I am that,” I agreed.
We walked in thoughtful silence then, our feet headed in a wonderfully purposeless direction.
“Does this mean you’re letting me walk you home?” he asked playfully as we roamed the streets, the night starting to quietly whisper to us.
“We’ll see,” I said preparing to step off the curb.
“Wait,” he commanded.
The bag in his hand flashed out and caught me in the gut. I stumbled away from the curb as a sports car blew past us and squealed around the corner of the next block without heed to the stop sign it had just run. I held on to my stomach, where the bag had hit it, and watched the car pass out of sight.
“How’d you do that?” I asked.
“Do what?”
“Know that car was coming!”
“I heard him, didn’t you?”
“No,” I said, checking the street in triplicate before I stepped down again.
“It’s not my fault you’ve got stone ears.”
“What’s in the bag?” I asked not looking at him, afraid my eyes would give away how much his hit had hurt. I was certain he hadn’t meant to hit me that hard.
“Stuff for my parents, for an experiment they’re doing.”
“They’re scientists right?”
He smirked, like I had confirmed something. “You’ve been checking up on me.”
“Small school,” I shrugged, feeling the heat in my face. I’d heard that factoid in Mrs. Heart’s thoughts.
“Yeah, it is. But what do Jennifer’s parents do for a living?”
I thought over all the thoughts that had assaulted my brain today, glad for my “gift” for once. “Her mom is a professor at the college. Her dad is a doctor…internal medicine.” I looked at him innocently. “Did I pass?”
He grinned playfully and didn’t answer. I took that as a ‘yes.’
My teeth started chattering as we stepped back on to the sidewalk, and I realized that, with the setting sun, the already chilly wind was growing colder. The first chance I got I would have to buy another jacket, maybe a fleece one. He looked over at the sound of my teeth knocking together.
“You’re cold. Do you want my jacket?” He was already taking it off.
I laughed sarcastically. “And, somehow, if I’m less cold that will make up for the fact that I took your jacket and you are now freezing? Isn’t that a bit archaic?”
He ignored me and laid the jacket on my shoulders in bossy confidence. I settled it around my shoulders, resigned that I would have to accept it. I could tell he would get his way…eventually. Plus, I liked the gesture.
“You’re pushy, do you know that?” I said.
“Of course. It comes with being an all-star quarterback and having people kiss my ass all the time.” His eyes caught mine. “Are you warmer?”
“Yes,” I huffed grumpily. He looked at me expectantly. I couldn’t help it, I laughed again. “Fine. Thank you for the jacket.”
He smiled happily. “You’re welcome.”
I looked at him in his blue t-shirt and jeans, admittedly admiring what I saw. “But aren’t you cold?”
“I’m tough, I can handle it.”
“Ugh!” I said. “Talk about typical male pride.”
“I just like to think that chivalry isn’t dead.”
“Of course it’s dead,” I retorted. “Technology killed it…Murdered it dead.”
He made a funny grunting noise of agreement, but didn’t say anything else in response. As we circled another street, I could see him deep in thought, as if he was considering something especially important. I left him to those thoughts, content to be left alone with mine.
“Clare, can I ask a weird question?”
“Uh…beyond the one you just asked?”
“Yes. Is it all right if we just walk for a while…in silence?”
“Silence?”
“Yes, that thing that happens when two people don’t talk.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing?”
“I need an official agreement.”
“Silence sounds wonderful,” I answered, ignoring his sarcasm.
It also sounded too much like a request I would make. He nodded and went back to watching the heavens. I listened, and realized we were really walking in silence. There were no thoughts, just the sound of an occasional car and a stiff wind, which rustled the tree branches. How was that possible? I never had a moment free of other people’s thoughts; I even saw their dreams in mine sometimes. I shook my head – the question of ‘how’ didn’t matter as much as the silence.
The silence slipped around my mind like a warm blanket, and I felt myself relax in response to the quiet. It was the most relaxed I’d felt in days, months even.
The darkness got thicker as we walked together in that relaxed silence, our arms almost touching. Clouds rolled in around the mountains and obscured the sky, making it feel darker and like there was less space separating us. The streetlights kicked on in response, casting everything into weird shades of pink and orange. The shadows started to stretch across the road, sheathing the houses in obscurity, blocking out everything more than ten feet in front of us.
In this encapsulated oblivion, we walked in circles, finding peace, talking only when we felt moved to do so, his request freeing something between us. When we eventually reached my street, having circled the downtown several times, I slowed my pace slightly, surprised that I was actually enjoying our time together. There was no pressure, no expectation. We simply were.
I stopped when we reached my driveway and took the jacket off, offering it to him. “Thanks for the walk.”
He ignored me. I shook the jacket at him to get his attention, but his eyes were on the thick woods behind my house.
“Daniel?”
“I want you to promise me something,” he said.
I was taken aback by his tone. It was familiar, yet intense. He had thrown aside all the awkwardness between strangers with that one phrase, making us friends.
“What?”
“Stay out of the woods.”
“Why?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. He simply waited, looking at me seriously, until I agreed. I did so knowing I wouldn’t go wandering around anyway, not knowing the terrain. I wasn’t stupid.
“I promise.”
He nodded once then turned with a stiff back and walked away without another word.
“Hey! You forgot your jacket!” I called after him.
He didn’t turn back or answer; he just kept walking, his head bowed against the wind, and the bag in his hand created a creaking accompaniment to his hasty retreat. I looked at the woods, then to his retreating form, trying to understand. The jacket felt heavy in my hands, as if he had left some of his gravity with me. The dark trees swayed with the cold wind, adding emphasis to that gravity. Chills that had nothing to do with the wind went down my spine. A prickle on the back of my neck told me I was being watched. Was it the neighbors? Slightly creeped out, I hurried across the lawn and into the house. I bolted the door behind me, checking the lock twice.
Ellen was watching television in the living room, but I ran up the stairs before she could speak to me. She would notice the state I was in; she always did. I locked my door to make sure I had privacy and headed straight for my window
seat, in order to think. I kicked off my shoes and sat down, curling my knees to my chest against the dark night. As an afterthought, I threw Daniel’s warm jacket across my knees.
The house groaned and popped again, but it didn’t bring to mind ghosts of the past. Instead, my thoughts were on our strange walk together – the way Daniel had brushed aside all the anger I had been feeling, and the worry in his voice when he had warned me to stay out of the woods. Even his warning was secondary to the warm emotions I was feeling.
I slowly drifted to sleep on my window seat, not bothering with my nightly routine, too mentally exhausted after such a long day to care or to move.
Chapter 5
The Watchers (Book 1: The Watchers Series) Page 4
