by A. M. Hudson
My phone lit the roof green fo r a second; I flipped over and reached across the gap between
my bed and the side table, cautiously, in case the Bogey man reached up to gr ab my hand, then
tucked my arms back in quickly wi th my phone in hand. The message on the screen read: call me if
you need me.
I smiled and texted back: Thanks, David.
But, it wasn’t him I wanted to call.
The green glow remained on my face and hands, and Emily stirred as the keypad bleeped
when I pinned in the digits of a familiar number. I know I should call my boyfriend, but right now, in
the darkness, surrounded by the fear of the storm ou tside, all I want is to hear the homelines s of
Mike’s familiar voice.
The eerie feeling of isolation slipped away while the ringer buzzed down the line. Pi ck up.
Come on, Mike. Please, pick up.
“Hey, beautiful? What’s up?” he asked in a chirpy voice. I forgot how great his voice was.
“Hey, Mike,” I whispered.
“What happened?” he asked quickly. “Are you okay, Ara?”
“Sleep over,” I said. “Watched a horror movie.”
“Oh, baby girl. Why do you do it? You know you can’t handle that kind of thing. What movie
was it?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m never sleeping again.”
“You will—you always do eventually.”
“Not for a few weeks, though.”
Mike laughed. “It’ll be all right. I’ll be there in a few days, then I’ll sleep by your closet door
and keep the monsters from coming out to get you.”
I chuckled a little. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Ha, yeah, I remember that night. How old were you then?”
“Um, fourteen, I think.”
“Well, I’m sending a hug through the phone for ya, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered, actually feeling a little better with that thought.
“Hey, I was thinkin’ ‘bout ya before you called. Musta read my mind.”
I wish. “What were you thinking about this time—me in a blender or something?”
“Ara, I don’t only reflect on memories of you in pain.”
“Hm. It seems like you do.” Like you want to.
“It was one memory. Once. What is wrong with you tonight, girl?”
“What do you mean what’s wrong with me?”
“You’re doing your thing.”
“My thing?”
“Yeah, when you twist my words ar ound until we get in a fight. Don’t do that. I’m not trying
to fight with you, baby. I was just …I wanted to cal l you…I was thinki ng about you—then you
called. It surprised me, that’s all.”
“You should be used to it.”
He paused. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been that in tune with each other, Ar.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He paused again.
“Mike?”
Emily rolled over and stirred with the disrupt ion of my voice through the perfect silence.
Perhaps I should take this conversation to another room.
“I’m still here, Ara. I just…I need a few seconds, okay.”
“Okay. I’m just moving into the spare room.” I walked into the hall, my toes balancing over
the quiet spots in the floorboards that I’d memorised.
“Is that the room I’ll be staying in?”
“Yep.” I grinned and l eaped through the dark, landing on his bed. “It’s cold in here ri ght
now—but I’m sure it won’t be when someone’s living in here.”
“Maybe you can keep the bed warm ‘til I get there.”
“Yeah, sure, I’m gonna stay in bed for the next few days,” I said sarcastically.
He paused again, then, after a long br eath through what sounded l ike his nose, asked, “So,
how are things with the boyfriend?”
“Not so good.” I winced. “We’ve kind of decided to break up after the autumn ball.”
“What? Oh, baby gir l. I’m sorry. Why? I mean, why would you do that? I thought you guys
were a sure thing?” Mike’s sympathetic tone brought my tears out from hiding.
“He. He has a. kind. Of. Problem.” I sniffled before the sobs came breaking through.
“What is it, baby? You can tell me.”
I could feel Mike in the room with me, the way he’d normally hang up the phone, right about
now, and no more than two minutes later be knocking on my window. But that isn’t possible now,
and after he leaves here and heads back home in two weeks, it’ll never be possible again.
“I can’t tell you. I—he has a secret, and I have t o keep it,” I bl ubbered, “I want to tell you. I
wish I could tell you. But I can’t.” I took a moment to compose myself. “Anyway, none of it matters,
he has to leave, and after the last leaf of autumn turns red and falls from the last tree—he’ll be gone.”
“What?” Mike scoffed. “What the hell is t hat? Some fairy-tale time-line, bull crap? Leaves
turning red? Ara! Did he hurt you?”
Of course Mike woul d ask that. It’s always his first question. Always his biggest fear. “No,
Mike. He didn’t hurt me. I mean, not physically. I’m hur ting inside, like I always do, but it isn’t his
fault. It’s my decision that caused it.”
“Wait. What? Your decision? Ara. If he hurt you, I swear to God, I’ll—”
“No, Mike, he never hurt me, okay? He asked me to come with him. To go away with him.”
A moment of silence passed. “Where?”
“Far away. I’d never be able to come back. I told him no,” I added quickly bef ore he could
freak out.
A loud whoosh of air came through the phone—Mike breathing out, I assume.
“I told him I couldn’t give up my life—my future.”
“Not that I approve of you running off with some guy, but, how would it be giving up your
life, exactly?”
“It doesn’t matter. Look. The point is, by winter, he’ll be gone, and I’ll never see him again.”
The sadness of the idea felt so final, so eternal now that I’d said it aloud.
“Well, you still have me.”
I laughed out in one short burst of air. “I know. I’ve always had you.” It’s just not really a
consolation.
After another long pause, Mike asked, “So, I’ve been thinki ng, Ara. Are we—we’re still
good, right? I mean. You don’t hate me after what happened?”
For the first time since that night, when we saw each other for the last time, alone, I allowed
myself to think about it all—to re ally think about it. It’s so like Mike and I to have been t hinking
about the same thing on the same night.
Do I hate him? He turned me down—rejected me, and I ran away like a spoilt child.
He can’t be to blame for not loving me.
Hate him?
No, I don’t hate him—hate what happened, know I’ll regret it every day f or the rest of my
natural life, but hate him? No. “It would be easier—if I hated you.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Mike said softly.
“Why?”
“It hurts me to think of you wanting to hate me.”
“Why?”
“You know how I feel about you, Ar.”
“Yeah. I know you love me.” As a fr iend. Nothing more. Never have—never will. I f I’d
listened that night, not ran away when he tried to tell me, my mum would still be here.
“No matter what happens, Ara, you’ll always be my bestie. You know that, right?”
“I know, Mike. I’m just sorry about everything t
hat’s happened.”
“I’m sorry, too. I wish things had been different.”
“Well, you can’t change the past.” I sig hed and stood up off Mike’s s oon-to-be bed, then
looked out at the twinkli ng stars in the sky to the west; they reminded me of David—after our
blissful night on the rooftop—and for the rest of my life, they always would.
It’s funny really, how the night sky holds my thoughts of David, the way the blue, sunny sky
always held my thoughts of Mike.
“What you thinking ‘bout?” Mike interrupted.
“Just thinking how much I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll be there soon,” he said.
“I know, but you’ll be gone soon, too.”
Mike sighed.
The sound strengthened my memory of his face; his prominent jaw, with a kind of ar rogant
set to it that’s completely softened by his charming smile—the kind of smile that makes you a part of
his world when he offers it to you.
I could see his shaggy, s andy-coloured hair, how it becomes lighter in the summer, and his
autumn-brown eyes, the way they flood with thought when he presses his lips tight under them while
he’s playing chess—trying to figure out the next move.
“Where are you, Ara? What worl d of thought have you slipped away to thi s time?” he asked
in a soft, almost whisper.
“A world I don’t want to be in—a world where I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” he said.
“I miss you more.”
Chapter Three
Chapter Three
“I’ll be back before dark,” I called to Dad, closing the lid on Vicki’s sewing box as I stuffed a
pin into my pocket.
“It’s going to rain—take a coat.” Dad’s voice carried down the stairs.
Taking a quick glance at my bare arms, I shrugged and left the laundry-room, then tiptoed out
the front door, pulling it quietly closed behind me.
“Take a jacket,” David said sternly, standing right in front of me.
“God! Don’t do that.” I rested my hand over the thumping pulse between my ribs. “You keep
scaring me.”
“Jacket.”
“Oh, fine.” I went to walk away, then stopped and folded my arms. “Actually, no. If you want
me to bring one— you can go get it.”
He shook his head, his round eyes filling with agitation before a brush of wind swept my hair
back, then he grabbed my hand and led me to the car—with my jacket over his forearm.
“I love how you do that.”
“Hm” is all he said.
We sat quietly on the first half of the drive out to the lake, not a peaceful silence either—a
deliberate one. Even if I had anything good to say to him today, he doesn’t deserve to hear it after he
forced me to accept that dress last night.
“Well, Vicki seems happy about your dress,” David chimed, and a flash of pure white teeth
gleamed out through his dark-pink lips.
“I’m sure.” I folded my arms.
“Oh, come on, Ara? You’re not really mad, are you? It’s a dress, let it go.”
“It’s not the dress I have a pr oblem with—” And all of a sudd en, we’re arguing, again. “I t’s
that fact that you went behind my back, you picked through mine or Vick i’s brain until you found
what you wanted, then you took it upon yourself to force me in a direction I didn’t want to go.”
David smiled. “But you love the dress.”
Even though I refused to look at his charming smile, I could still feel its warmth. It’s just so
hard to stay mad at him. My arms dropped to my sides. “I do love the dre ss—but I’m just afraid it
will always be like this, David. That you won’t respect my decisions.” Like the one to stay human.
“I never thought of it that way.” David looked down at the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Ara. I
must have misinterpreted your thoughts yesterday when we talked. I’ll…I’ll take the dress back.”
“No. Don’t do that.” I choked on my own words . “Just...in future, even if my t houghts
indicate the opposite, listen to me when I say no.”
David nodded. “So, you’ll wear the dress?”
“David, of course I’ll wear the dress. I love the dress.”
“I know you do.”
“I know you know I do.” The sun co uld not warm the cold in my heart if it sat at high noon
for three days, as much as David did when he smile d at me l ike that. All of the i rritation over the
dress evaporated in one flash of his turned lip and irresistibly cute dimples. “Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?”
“The other night, when you closed my window—it rained and I would’ve been very cold if
you—” My words dissipated with a gasp of air; I pr ojected forward, nearly striking the dash as the
car screeched to a halt in the middle of the desola te road. “David! What the hell!” I pried my fingers
from their grip of fear on the seat, then slapped David hard—not hard enough, though. He didn’t
even flinch.
“When was this, Ara? Which night are you talking about?”
“Friday. Why?” I rubbed at my now throbbing hand.
“Tell me exactly what you think I di d.” He grabbed my face and turned my head from one
side to the other, then let out a breath.
“David, tell me what the hell is going on! Now!”
After a moment of stillness, David looked over his shoulder, then back at me. “It ’s nothing.
Just…don’t worry about it.” He studied the steering wheel, his eyes narrowing.
“Are you saying it wasn’t you up in my room?”
“Ara, I never close your window.”
My blood ran cold.
“I’m pretty sure it was my brother.”
“What?”
David reluctantly turned his head to look at me. “I’m sorry, Ara, I should have known—from
the scent.”
“The scent?”
“Yes. It’s nearly exactly the same as mine, only, I should’ve followed my gut when I realised
it was on things I never touch—things I’ve never been near.”
“Are you saying there was some strange vampire in my room? While I was sleeping? Oh, my
God.” Oh, my God! Okay, calm yourself, Ara. Calm down. “I think I’m hyperventilating.”
“It’s okay, Ara. Really. He would never hurt you—you have nothing to worry about.” He
placed a hand on my shoulder.
I don’t feel convinced.
“He’s like me, my love—in so many ways. He’s a good guy.” David rubbed the back of his
neck. “He’s just curious about you.”
“Then why did he sneak into my room? What is it with you Knight boys?”
“It’s my fault—I wouldn’t let him meet you.”
“Why? Why wouldn’t you want me to meet him if he’s no threat?”
“Well, let’s just say he has no trouble being himself around humans. He doesn’t fit into your
world as well as I do—anymor e.” David looked do wn at his hands for a second. “He can come
across as a little...malevolent.”
“Malevolent? And you tell me not to worry that he was in my room? With me? Alone?”
“Yes.”
“David!”
“Perhaps I was wrong to keep you from him.” He rubbed his chin. “As brothers—as twins—
we were always taught to share everything—with the exclusion of girlfriends, of course, but I can
understand his curiosity.” David nodded, his gaze drifting into the world of nothing. �
�I have never,
after all, been this…enthralled by anything.” He br ushed my hair fr om my face and stared at me
intently—the hint of a smile returning to one corner of his mouth.
“Really? Never?”
“Nope. Since I met you, Ara, my life has purpose. I feel like I’m alive again, like there is a
point to life.”
“Even without me, David, there’s always a point to life.” I flicked my hair from my face.
“But, if he’s glad you’re happy, why would he risk scaring you by sneaking into my room—wouldn’t
he figure you’d find out?”
“Probably not—he’s more powerful than I.”
“What do you mean?”
“He can read vampire minds—among other things. I can only read human minds. Without
you mentioning it, I’d never’ve known.”
My body stiffened a little and my toes curled over. That’s not very reassuring.
“He just wanted to meet you,” David added with a smile. “I should have let him. I know he
won’t hurt you; he’s jus t curious about the girl w ho has so completely captured me after a hundred
years of—” he paused, like his words escaped him.
“Of what?”
“Well. I guess. Death. I’ve been dead. And now—” he shrugged, “—everyone’s noticing
changes.”
He looked so human when he shrugged like that. “So, can I meet him?”
“No,” David answered swiftly.
“Why?”
“There’s no need—he was obviously satisfied.”
Satisfied? Ew! It felt li ke a long-legged spid er just danced down my spine. What did his
brother do in there? Watch me, touch me, breathe on me? Ew! Ew! Ew!
“Ara. You’re okay. He obviously didn’t touch you.”
“I know. But, David?”
“Mm?”
“If he won’t hurt me, why the whole screeching to a stop thing?”
David swallowed, l ooking out the window. “Tra nsforming humans against their will is
forbidden, but Jason disagrees—”
“Are you saying you were afrai d he’d bitten me?” My thumbnail dug into the t ip of my
pointer finger as I rep layed David’s reaction; his bone-white grip, f ixed stare and colour-drained
face.
“It was silly of me. If he had, you would already be a—”
“Er! That’s so creepy.” I dusted myself off as if I’d walked through an empty web.
