by K. A. Poe
“Where did you learn to play so well?” he asked, and I noticed how silky his voice was.
“My mom put me through lessons when I was a kid. The rest I learned here.” I answered confidently.
“I am impressed.”
“I’ve never seen you here before,” I spat out, without meaning to. I looked away suddenly.
“That is because I have never been here until today,” he replied and unexpectedly put his hand to my chin and turned my face back toward him. “I find you very intriguing.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I will see you later.”
“No, wait!” But it was too late; he was already exiting the room as the words escaped my mouth.
As I pondered this unfamiliar new student, I continued playing on the piano – this time choosing something less conspicuous and before I knew it, the bell was ringing. Stopping playing, I couldn't help but notice some students were staring in my direction still and talking in hushed voices. Clearly it hadn't solely been my music that had caught their attention, but the out-of-place new kid as well. I sat there a few moments longer, still somewhat in shock from the encounter with this new boy, as I watched the rest of the students flood through the classroom door. After I gathered my thoughts, I exited the room and raced toward gym.
3. SALEM
I met Jason and Karen on the bleachers, where I tied my shoelaces that had somewhere along the way come undone. Karen stared at me inquisitively.
“What's up, Alex?” she asked as I hopped off of the bleachers.
“Not much,” I answered. “Just wondering who this new kid is that I met in music class.”
“Some music nerd, huh?” Jason snickered.
My eyes lowered to the ground when he said that, but I tried to ignore the comment. “No. He was...different,” I said difficultly.
“Different how?” Karen inquired as she passed me a ball that I recognized immediately as a volleyball. I sighed, hating sports with a passion.
I hit the ball over the net absentmindedly as I talked to my friends. “There was just something strange about him...I don't know.”
“I haven't noticed any new kids in any of my classes,” Jason said as he deflected the incoming ball, sending it back over the net.
“Me either,” Karen agreed.
“Maybe he isn't in any of your classes,” I said, but I knew that was near impossible. The school wasn't that big. Willowshire High School held a student body count of maybe a hundred kids.
As the volleyball game was coming to an end, Jason and Karen pulled me along to the bleachers again. We each sat there, catching our breath when the inevitable happened – Jason brought up the subject I knew was coming.
“So, when's the party?” he grinned.
“There isn't going to be a party, Jace.”
“It won't be a problem at all, I swear!” he practically begged.
“Fine. Sunday night,” I gave in with a worried frown. “That gives you two days to plan, so you better hurry. And no alcohol!”
“Yes, ma'am!” he said triumphantly, “I'll catch up with you two later. I have to head home, lots of planning to do!”
“See you later,” Karen and I said in unison.
“Do you want me to ride home with you?” she asked as we watched Jason exit the gymnasium.
“Why would I want that?”
“I just thought,” she paused momentarily, and then continued, “that since your mom is gone...you might get lonely,” she said sorrowfully.
I smiled up at her, but shook my head. “It's all right. A night alone might do me some good. Maybe I will call her and straighten things out...”
“All right. I'll see you next week, then,” she gave me a quick worried glance, then turned and left.
And there I was, alone on the bleachers. I reluctantly got up and walked off to my locker to collect my book bag. As I slowly walked through the gym I considered the possibility of calling my mother when I returned home. What would I even say to her? I was certain I wouldn't be able to control my fury and hurt, that it would begin with an outburst of accusations on how she decided her plans were more important, how Mark was more important than me...and then it dawned on me how similar this felt to when dad abandoned us eleven years ago. Had she realized this? I could feel the warmth of tears welling up behind my eyes and it was hard to hold it back as the pain and knowing seeped in. Was I doing something wrong to cause my parents to leave me? My pace quickened as I felt the tears trickling down my cheeks. I had to get out of here, before someone noticed...
The sun had decided to peek out through the clouds a little and I was pleased to see the puddles were starting to evaporate. The water on the asphalt was deeper than this morning, however, and I could feel the moisture seeping into my shoes. I was about four feet from my car before my feet were completely soaked. The tears were drying against my skin, and I hoped no one would notice as I passed through the parking lot. I stopped abruptly when I saw the boy from music class leaning up against the Alero. I gulped and cautiously walked up to him.
“What are you doing?” I asked suspiciously.
“I was waiting for you,” he said simply. As I looked him over, I noticed his clothing wasn't damp and his feet were not soaked, unlike mine. How had he managed to get through the parking lot unscathed?
My brows furrowed. “How did you know this was my car?”
“One of your friends told me.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, “Which one?”
He paused to think, as if he couldn't quite place the name. “A tall, blonde haired girl.”
“Karen...” I whispered.
“That was it!” he beamed, “she also mentioned that tomorrow is a special day for you.”
“I told her not to tell anyone...”
“Why would you do that?” he seemed genuinely confused.
“Birthdays have never been something I was very fond of,” I muttered, eying him curiously. “And, why in the world would she tell you of all people?”
“But you are blessed with another year of life,” he smiled brilliantly at me and ignored my question, then unexpectedly said, “I want to take you somewhere, if you are willing.”
“I don't even know you, and you want to take me somewhere?” I was bewildered and yet enthralled that this boy was even talking to me.
“We can introduce each other on the way,” he offered.
I shook my head, uncertain. “Maybe some other time.”
“It has to be now,” he insisted.
“Give me one good reason why it has to be now.”
“There's no time like the present?” he suggested with a grin. “Tomorrow you could get hit by a truck and never have this opportunity again.”
“Fine,” I said as I took in his words, feeling depressed at the idea of going to an empty house, anyway – if not a little reckless, “But, I'm driving.”
The boy eyed the car and nodded. “It is probably best that way.”
“You don't know how to drive?” I inquired as I unlocked the passenger side door for him.
“That's one way to put it,” he smiled lightly as he sat down.
I walked over to the driver side and climbed in, started the ignition and glanced over at him. There was something comforting about his presence, but I couldn't quite place what it was. He directed me toward wherever our destination was, which eventually led us down a winding road that made me very nervous to drive on. We passed a field of feasting bovine near a small, broken down house, and then everything grew into dense forest and rock.
“Where are we going?”
“You will see. It is just a little further,” he said, gazing out the window at the scenery, although he must have seen it hundreds of times before.
I thought for a moment about just turning around. Had I been tricked by some serial killer or rapist in my moment of vulnerability from this morning's events? I glanced over at the stranger in my car for a brief moment; he seemed harmless enough. I shook th
e thoughts from my mind for now and focused back onto the road and listened to the directions I was being given.
I became increasingly anxious as we rode down the twisting, thin road. The asphalt suddenly evolved into a dirt road that felt like it went on for miles and miles ahead of us. I hadn't noticed the turn to our left until he pointed it out. I slowly jerked the car down the new path and we were soon approaching a tall, beautiful Victorian house planted in the middle of the blossoming foliage.
“Where are we?” I asked in an awed voice.
“My home,” he said pleasantly. “But, before we enter, I made you a promise. My name is Salem Young,” he explained bitterly, which by the look on his face I assumed he hoped I hadn't noticed.
“You don't like your name?” I inquired.
“I suppose that is what you would say,” he answered, “it is somewhat contradictory.”
“Contradictory to what?” I asked, confused.
“You will find out soon enough,” he said. “Your name is Alexis Hobbs.”
“I take it Karen told you that, too, did she?” I asked with a grimace.
He ignored my question, climbed out of the car and quickly walked to my side, opened the door and offered me his hand.
I thought for a moment before I reluctantly took his hand, barely noticing the difference in his skin's temperature. He smiled as he gracefully led me to the alabaster stairs. We climbed up the stairway and I stared, mystified, at the tall white doors. The windows were stained glass images of what I recognized to be Celtic knots in beautiful shades of blues and greens. Salem grasped the brass door handle and swiftly opened the large doors, revealing an immaculate living area. The walls were painted a dull gray that perfectly contrasted the white sectional sofa pushed up against the furthest wall. Behind the couch was a wide window overlooking a lake. In front of the couch lay a large black rug that covered the otherwise white tiled floor, and atop the rug was a rectangular glass coffee table. I was somewhat surprised not to see a TV anywhere.
On the other side of the room was a vast bookshelf, every inch of which was full. An armchair identical in color to the sectional sofa sat nestled in a small nook beside the bookcase. Beside the chair was a tall, silver floor lamp. As I was admiring the room, Salem came up behind me and grasped my shoulders. I jumped, startled by his touch, but relaxed as he spun me around toward a spiral staircase that led upstairs. It wasn't the staircase that caught my attention, but the large, white grand piano that sat to the right of it.
“It's beautiful...” I said in a mere whisper. “Is your family rich or something?
“What?” he looked shocked at my assumption, but his expression turned soft and he smiled. “I don't live with my family.”
“Then are you rich?” I laughed, staring at him in awe.
“Not at all.”
“Then how do you afford to live here?”
“You'll find out soon enough,” he repeated and turned toward the kitchen, waving me to follow.
Mahogany cabinets lined the back walls, and a black refrigerator and stove stood out amongst them. A small dining table was set against a broad window. The curtains were drawn, but the room was still bright despite there being no lights on.
After I allowed myself to admire the house, I realized how soaked my feet still were. “Would you mind if I took these off?” I asked shyly.
“Of course I wouldn’t.”
I walked to the front door, cringing with each step as the water sloshed around in my shoes. I opened the doors, untied the moist laces and tugged each shoe off and shook out as much water as I could. Next, I removed my soggy socks and laid them across the banister of the stairway, then returned back inside the house.
Salem was staring at me as I walked into the kitchen, “Tomorrow, everything will change,” he said suddenly. I gulped, not liking the serious tone in his voice.
“I'll just be turning eighteen.”
“You will be a whole different person,” his eyes were withdrawn now, “and I will be partially at fault.”
“What are you talking about Salem?” I could hear the panic in my voice.
“Don't worry, Alexis,” he smiled somberly. “Once the clock strikes midnight, I can tell you everything.”
“Midnight?!” I almost laughed. “You expect me to stay here until midnight!?”
“Only if you will.”
“What could possibly happen at midnight?”
“Don't make me say it again,” he smirked. I could distinctly hear his voice in my head repeating 'You'll find out soon enough'.
I looked at the simple black-banded watch on my right wrist. It was only now seven o'clock. It wasn't so much that I needed to get back home, but how could I possibly stay here with this stranger for the next five hours? I glanced up into his eyes and I saw something alluring and comforting...part of me truly wanted to stay. But when I let myself think it through, I knew this had to be a mistake. Had I agreed to drive a murderer home after all?
“I don't think I can stay here, Salem,” I muttered as I tore my eyes away.
“Do you have someplace to be?” he asked.
“No...” It came out in barely a whisper as it finally sunk in that I had no one to go to anymore. Mom was gone; home would be vacant and lonely. I should have agreed to have Karen ride home with me. I fought back the moisture in my eyes, biting down on my lip and forcing myself to relax.
“At least stay long enough to play that tune for me again,” he said, almost pleadingly.
4. COINCIDENCES
Hesitantly, I agreed to stay and play my song for Salem. He sat beside me on the bench as I placed my hands on the keys. I shut my eyes as I played flawlessly – even to my own amazement, considering I had only come up with it this afternoon in school. I stopped abruptly when I felt his hands reaching across and touching mine. With a sudden gasp, my eyes flew open - his fingers were freezing! He smiled warmly at me and I forgot all about the cold of his touch and returned to playing, his hands following the movement of my own. I relaxed a little as I continued to play, until at last the song was through; he didn't remove his hands.
“I still cannot get over how beautiful it is,” he said quietly as he peered into my eyes.
“Th-thank you,” I whispered, my cheeks growing warm. I glanced at my watch: 7:15. I sighed.
“What's wrong?” Salem asked, and then noticed where my eyes were looking. “Oh. Still not sure you want to wait and see?”
“See what?” I asked.
“How many times must I tell you?” he grinned. “Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I replied honestly, before I had the chance to think better of it. What if he intended to poison me?
“If you could have anything right now, what would it be?”
I laughed as I thought about it. “Umm…chocolate cheesecake drizzled with caramel.”
Salem shrugged. “Very well.” Before he turned toward the kitchen, I could have sworn I saw a glint of violet in his eyes, but I ignored it – it was probably my imagination playing tricks on me. He walked into the kitchen, tugging me gently behind him. As he opened the black door of the fridge, my hand dropped from his grasp and I stood frozen in shock. Sitting on a glass plate on the top shelf of the fridge was a slice of delectable cheesecake, just as I had imagined it. I shook my head in disbelief. I barely noticed that the rest of the fridge was empty.
“How?” My voice barely came out.
“Coincident?” he smiled. “Go ahead, eat it.”
“How do I know you didn't poison it?” I gasped. “Are you some sort of sick serial killer or something!?”
The look of hurt in his eyes made me regret it instantly. “You think I would poison you?” he frowned. “Would you like me to eat some of it to prove it is harmless?”
I nodded my head slowly, still unconvinced this boy had good intentions in mind.
Salem shook his head in disappointment, but I watched him pull open a drawer. Wielding a silver fork, he gathered some of the cake a
nd put it to his lips. I watched, my heart pounding, as he chewed the luscious chocolate and he smiled up at me. “See? It is perfectly safe.”
“Okay,” I gave in and took a bite. It was even better than I had imagined. I tried to fight the urge to eat the entire slice, but it was impossible. It was quite possibly the greatest food I had ever tasted. “Are you a chef?”
He laughed; the sound was musical, beautiful...I wanted to hear it again. “No, but I will have to let the baker at Budwell's Bakery know you appreciate his work.”
“I still don't understand how you had a piece of cake identical to the one I wanted just lying around,” I said, wiping my mouth of chocolaty residue.
He shrugged. “I told you...purely coincidental.”
“Right...” I said as we walked into the wide, open living room. He lay out on the end of the sectional, and I sat on the opposite side. Part of me wouldn't have minded being closer to him, but I felt distance was safest at this point. I contemplated what could possibly happen at midnight, how it would change anything, and how this boy could be involved in anyway.
“How long have you lived here, Salem?” I asked out of the blue.
“A few years,” he replied, putting his hands behind his head. He looked comfortable, serene. Strands of black hair fell across his eyes, shrouding them from my view.
“Did you just enroll in school recently?”
He didn't respond right away. “No,” he answered simply.
“Were you going to a different one before?”
“Yes,” Just as simply.
I glanced at my watch again: 8:13.
“Tell me about yourself,” I said as I watched the second hand on my watch tick slowly by.
