January Dreams

by Carrigan Richards

  January

  Dreams

  Carrigan Richards

  COPYRIGHT

  Text copyright © 2020 Carrigan Richards

  ASIN #B018W2DX7E

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook from one of its many distributors.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover design by Nick Taylor. Edited by Lindsey Alexander.

  To learn more about author Carrigan Richards, please visit her website at www.carriganrichards.com.

  DEDICATION

  To my dad, for believing in me every step of the way.

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PLAYLIST

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO BY CARRIGAN RICHARDS

  All that we see or seem

  Is but a dream within a dream.

  —Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream Within a Dream

  Chapter One

  Through the thick fog, I see a silhouette of a man, sauntering toward me. He is tall, lanky. I can’t see his face. I’m on my knees, in the middle of a forest, breathing hard as if I ran for miles. The leafless trees sway from the building wind. The cold is almost paralytic over my body and I do my best to stay alert of the mysterious man’s approach. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush as he keeps walking a steady pace.

  “Well, hello traitor,” he speaks in a deep voice.

  He found us and he’s going to kill me. “Please, don’t,” I beg.

  “You knew this would happen when you ran away with him.”

  “I never meant to hurt you. Please!”

  Clouds drift across the moon as rain starts pouring heavily, pounding into the ground. Stumbling to my feet, I start running.

  Faster.

  Fear grips me.

  “You can’t run from me,” the man screams.

  I pick up my speed, letting branches and wet leaves slap my face.

  He found us. It was stupid to run away. I know Casper is my enemy, but I love him.

  “Megan!” I hear Casper’s voice.

  With a sharp intake of breath, I come to a halt looking for him. My heart knocks against my ribs and an unusual excitement rushes through me.

  “Casper.” I whisper once I see him running toward me.

  “You won’t take her away.” He runs past me, and clashes with the dangerous man. The two wrestle until a gunshot echoes in the night. I jump, losing my breath.

  Neither of them move.

  No.

  “Casper?” I warily move toward them.

  “Megan, are you okay?” I relax when I hear his voice.

  Pushing the man off him, he gets to his feet and rushes up to me.

  His beautiful, brown eyes are intense as he checks me for injuries. Rain drips from his bleach blonde hair that stops just above his eyes.

  Placing my hands on either side of his angular face, I rub the slight stubble of his cheeks. “Casper,” I say. I’m shaking, not only from the cold. “He was going to kill us.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want? Being with me is dangerous.”

  “I’m not leaving you. I love you. I don’t care that we’re enemies.”

  His soft hand touches my face, and I close my eyes, loving his warmth. “I will protect you with my life.”

  What a foolish mess I’ve gotten us both into.

  “We’ll go back for the Nuummite Jewel when it’s safer. It’s too dangerous right now. We have to find another way.”

  “But without it, you’re not immortal.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  How can he say this? The Jewel is the only thing protecting him and we don’t have it. I can’t bear the thought of Casper dying.

  “Everything will be okay, Megan.”

  I wake with a start, sitting upright with my hand to my chest, trying to calm my pounding heart. What was that?

  It was just a dream. That’s all.

  Savannah, my mini-Jack Russell, burrows out from under the covers and sneezes. She yawns and stretches while looking at me sleepily.

  I settle back against my pillow, calmer now. But the fear of someone trying to kill me still grips my insides. And the intense feeling I got when Casper looked at me. Why on earth did I dream about Casper? Ugh. It’s not like I’ve been thinking about him or anything.

  I hate Casper Truitt. Actually, hate is such a nice word for the way I feel about him. He has no regard for anyone but himself and isn’t afraid to let anyone know. He hails from a stupid rich family and probably bathes in hundred dollar bills every night, at least, that’s what Cherry and I joke about.

  My room is dark, and I relax a little thinking I have a couple more hours before I have to get up, but when I check my clock, I curse, knowing I forgot to set the antiquated alarm. One hour late. I’m used to my phone where I program it and not have to worry about it, but Mom took it away.

  I kick off the covers and rush through my morning routine. Great way to start the week.

  Grabbing my backpack, keys, purse, coat, I breeze by my goodbyes to my dogs, all five of them, and run out the door. Luckily, my old as dirt car starts without too much issue and I carefully speed through the neighborhood to get to school, hoping I can get there before the bottom falls out. A storm is coming, and it doesn’t look like it’ll be brief.

  I scramble out of my car and rush to the front office. When I open the door, I see Mrs. McCarthy dressed in a pumpkin outfit. Crap. It’s Halloween and Cherry is going to kill me. I completely forgot.

  Mrs. McCarthy looks up, removes her glasses, revealing her brown eyes, and smiles. Her short brown hair makes her look like most of the female teachers around here, something I have always wondered about. Is it a requirement to have such short hair
when you become a school administrator? Her makeup always looks like it’s permanently stained on her face.

  “Can I help you?” she asks in her Southern drawl.

  “I need to sign in for a late pass,” I say, panting.

  A tall boy with cropped dark, brown hair fumbles through the door, almost tripping. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans on his lean, muscular body. He is hot. Is he new? This school is huge, but how could I have missed him? He’s not part of the popular crowd.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” he tells Mrs. McCarthy as he makes his way behind the counter.

  “It’s okay, Vincent.” She smiles as she stands. “I’ve got some errands to run so you’ll be at the front desk for the remainder of the block. Oh, and this young lady needs to sign in.” She winks.

  Vincent turns around and seems to do a double take. His face turns pale as if he’s seen a ghost. Mrs. McCarthy grabs her purse and is out the door. He drops his backpack on the floor and when he looks up, our eyes lock. His eyes are beautiful. They are the color of the deepest part of the ocean. So blue they almost look black. He looks at me like he’s enamored or something and it makes my heart pound. My stomach starts fluttering like there are butterflies or freaking penguins flapping their wings in there.

  He breaks our gaze and his eyes dart from mine to the sign-out sheet to the door and so on.

  I smile. “Hi, Vincent.”

  He blushes and mumbles a hello. I bite my lip and notice his hands are gripping the desk like it’s the only thing holding him up.

  “I’m Megan. Can I sign in?”

  “S-sure.” He clears his throat.

  I hope he isn’t going to choke on his own saliva since it’s obvious how uncomfortable I make him. I don’t ever get this reaction from anyone, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

  “Just fill this out.” He points to a sheet of paper on a clipboard.

  My hands are frozen so I try to fill out the form as best I can.

  He urgently scribbles on a pink pad of paper and rips it from its base, handing it to me. “They don’t ever read these things.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him.

  Blood flushes his cheek and he looks away. “You’re welcome.”

  I give a small smile. “You’re a junior, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have we ever had a class together?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Well, I really have to get to class. Um. It was cool meeting you.”

  As his seductive lips stretch into a warm, sexy smile, he meets my eyes and my body warms. “You too.”

  I walk to class, smiling to myself, and thinking about what it would be like to kiss Vincent. His lips looked soft and I bet he’s a gentle kisser. Not that anything will come of Vincent and me, because nothing ever does, but it’s still nice to fantasize.

  Chapter Two

  Once the adrenaline wears off, grogginess sets in. I am not a morning person by any means, so I constantly yawn and grumble until about lunch.

  I can’t believe I forgot my costume. I love Halloween. I’m probably one of the five people not dressed up and it bums me out. Cherry and I got costumes. A bee for her and a ladybug for me. The bell rings and I make my way to my locker.

  “Where is your costume?” Cherry demands as she props her hands on her hips. She’s adorable in her bee costume.

  I give her an innocent smile. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  Cherry Stimm is my best friend since the fourth grade. And yes, she catches all kinds of grief over her name. We are by no means popular, but we’re not at the bottom of the pole either. So, I guess we’re doing pretty well in high school, even though we both hate it. We are not what they call ‘emo’ kids and dress in black and talk about how life sucks all the time. We’re pretty happy kids, or average I guess, even though our parents cause enough stress to last a lifetime. Both of us come from divorced families, both sets of parents have remarried, we each have a sibling who used to taunt us constantly, we work at the grocery store together, we don’t have time for extracurricular activities at school, and we both love the arts. She’s the artist. I’m the writer, obviously, since I’m writing this.

  “Where were you this morning? I thought you were going to start coming to school earlier so we could chat before class.”

  “I overslept.”

  Her soft brown hair falls in loose curls past her small shoulders. A soft yellow ring circles the iris of her blue eyes—very rare but I think it’s cool. It makes her unique. I am not so unique with long jet-black hair and Caribbean blue almond-shaped eyes. I have an oval face and when I smile dimples appear, but Cherry always tells me it’s cute. We are both average height, about 5’6” which we both prefer, and slender. Well, I’m not slender like the cheerleaders or dance team and I don’t have a ridiculously flat stomach. I could probably lose a few pounds.

  As we make our way to junior history, I tell Cherry about my dream. The damn thing is still haunting me.

  “Casper? Gross.” She scrunches her face in disgust and takes her seat next to me in class.

  “I know.” Sure, he’s gorgeous. Every girl wants to be with him, but he’s only after one thing. I’ll never forget Trinity Taylor crying because as soon as he got what he wanted, he dumped her. And he wooed her for a good month. That still doesn’t stop ninety percent of the girls to swoon over him. I guess swooning is healthy.

  “Well, at least it was a dream,” Cherry says. “Could make for good story material. You haven’t written anything in a while.”

  I nod. Nothing’s come to me in a long time, but this could be something. “By the way, I had to get a late pass and I met someone.”

  She lifts her eyebrows and grips my arm. “Vincent Young?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “He’s the hot office assistant. He’s got blue eyes that you could seriously get lost in. Everyone knows who he is.”

  Except me, apparently. The school is fairly large. I don’t know everyone in my class, but somehow Cherry keeps tabs on who’s who. I’m not sure how she finds the time.

  “Did he ask for your number? Did he ask you out?”

  “Whoa, slow your roll. I just met the guy. Besides, I’m still grounded. Not like I can go anywhere. Or talk to anyone.”

  Cherry lets out an annoyed groan. “When does this current grounding session end?”

  “I think Mom said the eighth.”

  “Of what year?” she jokes.

  “November. One more week.”

  “Yeah, until you sneeze the wrong way and then it’ll be another stupid month.”

  “Probably.”

  Something I forgot to mention. My parents love to ground me. At least, that’s how I see it. I really am grounded for the dumbest things. Like one time my mom thought I was being a bitch, which I was stressed out, and so she grounded me for two weeks.

  My jerk of a stepdad thinks I’m a crazy teenager. But how crazy can I be when I get good grades in school, I work, I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, I’m still a virgin, I don’t sneak out—I could be the poster child of the century. None of these things ever interest me. I haven’t been curious to try any of it probably because I don’t like losing control of myself. I don’t want to end up with consequences or things like that. However, my mother is adamant that I will have the same life as her because it happened to her. She doesn’t believe me when I say I will not lose my virginity at sixteen. Or get married at eighteen. Or have a baby at nineteen. I know that’s why they keep me under lock and key.

  “Ugh, I wish you could go trick or treating,” Cherry says. She has no idea how much I wish I could go. Halloween is my favorite holiday.

  “Even if I wasn’t grounded, you know my mom wouldn’t allow it. You know she thinks it’s rude for people to go around to houses asking for candy.”

  She lets out a frustrated groan. “Your mom seriously deflates any kind of fun.”

  “You’re telling me?”

&
nbsp; “Why don’t we go to Sloss for the haunted house?”

  “You know I want to.”

  “Then do it. Come on. You’re always grounded. Your parents will never find out. Just tell them you’re working.”

  I mull it over. I’m tired of being stuck at home all the time and never having any sort of fun. I deserve it. I’ve been too stressed out from school, parents. Mom and Ron will never know.

  Screw it. “Okay.”

  She squeals.

  After class, I make my way to precal. When I look up, my heart skips a beat as I see Casper by his locker. The dream comes back to me. Usually, when I dream, they are very vivid, but they tend to go away, and I forget about them. But this one with Casper is still there, which bugs me. It was so dramatic, like something straight out of a Cure song.

  He normally pays no attention to me but today his beautiful brown eyes are fixed on me for some reason. Heat pricks the back of my neck and fills my cheeks. His ragged bleach blonde hair sweeps across his eyebrows. Okay, yes, he’s good-looking. He has abs like Jason Mamoa for crying out loud beneath that simple white T-shirt. I only know this because I caught him one day after school without his shirt. His tanned skin would probably make me look even pastier if we stood next to each other. Not that I ever want to stand next to him.

  But I can’t tear my eyes away from him, almost as if they’re magnets to his. Why is he looking at me? I can’t explain it, but I feel something inside me as we gaze at each other, like I did in my dream.

  Chapter Three

  I’ve always wanted to go to the haunted house at Sloss Furnace. As one of the famous landmarks in downtown Birmingham, it’s now used for concerts, haunted houses, and any kind of social gathering now. But it’s haunted. I’ve lived in Birmingham my whole life and haven’t experienced much of the city. My parents love doing things, without Jonathan and me. But I want to go places. See the history. See the landmarks. Live life. But I guess I’m too young.

  After rushing home to change into my ladybug costume, I meet up with Cherry in the parking lot. Cherry squeals when she sees me, her bee headband flapping back and forth.