by Amy Miles
I spun around, headed to my car and shoved my backpack through the window. I didn’t know where Daniel was or how long he’d be, but if I didn’t text my mom soon, she’d probably show up. I hated it when she did that. I hit the buttons of my cell saying I was hanging out with Daniel for a few minutes, but would be on my way soon.
Leaning against the door, I waved at John and Maya as they cruised by.
Daniel’s dirty-blond head and beefy body suddenly blocked my view. “Hey, babe.”
“Hi.” I gave him a weak smile, not looking forward to a confrontation. After what he’d said earlier about no one ever touching me again, he probably wouldn’t let me go easily. I could totally pass on the inevitable drama.
“I’m grounded,” I blurted out. “I can’t go to your party.”
His face fell. “Oh. I had plans for us.”
I didn’t even want to know what those plans were. “Yeah, about that. Uh, we need to talk.”
“Daniel!” a guy shouted from across the lot.
“Gotta go.” He gave me a quick kiss without giving me a chance to evade it, then took off.
Damn. I was still officially stuck to him. Resigned, I nudged my backpack over and settled in the driver’s seat of my ancient sedan. I turned the key in the ignition, then cursed under my breath. Today had sucked so much, I’d forgotten all about my car needing resuscitation.
John and Maya had already left. I could call one of them back to get me, but John depended on rides from someone else and Maya wouldn’t have time to come back, drop me off and still make it home in time to babysit her little brother.
Unless I could get my car to start, my only choice would be to call my mom or dad for a ride. Taking a deep breath and crossing my fingers, I waited a moment, then turned the key again.
Silence.
A head appeared in my window and I jumped. Realizing it was Zack and not a serial killer, my muscles relaxed a little. I gazed at him, mesmerized by his deep, green eyes.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Car trouble?”
CHAPTER THREE
Apparently, Zack shared his smiles with everyone except me.
“Yeah.” I teeter-tottered between being embarrassed for being seen by him in my dilapidated car, and fear that he couldn’t or wouldn’t save me. “Car won’t start.”
Zack blew out a breath, then motioned to the hood of the car. When I didn’t move, he stared at the sky for a moment before saying, “Release the hood, so I can check it out.”
He’d spoken slowly, like I had a learning disability. Heat rushed into my cheeks. I reached around my knees where the lever should’ve been, but my hand came up empty. Where was it? I’d found it before. If I just had another minute…
“Move and I’ll do it.”
I scrambled out, bumping shoulders with him as I squeezed past. Wow, the guy was all muscle. I cursed the butterflies fluttering like crazy in my stomach, vowing not to get a crush on a guy who had such a low opinion of me.
Zack immediately found the release, then propped up the hood. I darted around to the front to see what he’d do. The engine looked like grease-covered metal. It could’ve been a time machine and I wouldn’t have known the difference.
“So what do you think?” I asked.
“If I knew…” he paused to eye me from under his brows, “I’d already be fixing it and one step closer to being gone.”
I gritted my teeth. “If you’re going to be a jerk about it, why bother helping me at all?”
“Because my mom raised me right.” His gaze fell on my mouth and, for an instant, his eyes darkened. Just when I thought we were having a moment, his lips thinned as he met my eyes. “If you prefer, I could leave.”
“That would make you even more of a douche,” I said, sticking a hand on my hip and praying he’d stay.
The corner of his mouth quirked and he resumed scrutinizing the engine.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but I didn’t want to press my luck. To keep myself occupied, I counted the flattened gum spots in the asphalt while listening to his occasional mutters. What I really wanted to do was get a closer look at the seat of his pants, but I didn’t want to get caught ogling him. Again.
“Rear passenger side tire is a little low,” he said, almost like he was talking to my car. “You should stop and get some air soon.”
“Okay, thanks.” Sure, he’d been rude before, but he didn’t have to stop to help me and he could’ve let my tire go completely flat. Maybe he was finally warming up to me. My insides turned to jelly at the thought. I sidled up next to him and leaned over to peer at the engine. “So… you know a lot about cars?”
Except for his eyes that studied the engine as if mentally taking it apart, Zack didn’t move a muscle or even glance my way. “I know enough.”
That didn’t curb my curiosity. “Where’d you learn? Your dad teach you?”
“No.”
Several seconds passed and he didn’t say anything more. So much for making conversation. Considering how little he apparently thought of me, what had I expected? Maybe he’d lighten up if I apologized for bumping into him and told him I was dumping Daniel. I opened my mouth to speak, but Zack beat me to it.
“See the way the clamp isn’t connecting to the battery?” He pointed at a big, rectangular thing.
Grateful for the break in his silence, I studied the box. “The vibrations wiggled it free?”
“That would be my guess.” He flashed me a grin and nudged me with his elbow. My insides warmed. “Maybe under all that hair and spiffy clothes is a car geek just itching to bust free,” he said.
That was probably as close to a compliment as I was going to get from Zack. I returned his smile.
His grin disappeared in a flash and his eyes grew cold as he jiggled the cables. “Okay, try it again,” he ordered, averting his gaze.
Climbing back into the car, I turned the key and it sparked to life. Oh, thank God! I got out again to thank him, but left the motor running, just in case. “So it was just the connection?”
He mumbled, then let the hood drop shut and strode off without saying another word.
Just because he had atrocious manners — when he wasn’t saving my ass — didn’t mean I had to stoop to his level. Besides, people were always nicer when you were friendly. “Thank you!”
He didn’t even turn around. Sometimes, taking the high road sucked.
Oh, what the hell. “Maybe you should fix that personality next!” I shouted, but he was already driving away in an old, faded red Jeep. As Zack cleared the gate, a yellow Corvette eased away from the curb and into the lane behind him.
† † †
I whooshed through the front door of my house, dropping my backpack in the entryway. This house was newer than the others we’d lived in, with high ceilings and plenty of wide-open spaces. Mom managed to make it homey despite the lack of furniture and knick-knacks, always keeping fresh flowers on the fireplace mantle, a soft rug over the hardwood floors and warm hues covering the walls.
“Mom? Dad?” I called out.
Faint voices from their bedroom wafted down to the ground floor, reminding me how much I’d be working over the weekend in my dad’s office upstairs.
But I’d have to embrace slavedom in order to win back my freedom. Maybe if I started working tonight and only stopped to eat and sleep… A thrill rippled through me at the thought of salvaging my Sunday. One thing at a time though. Right now, the only thing on my mind was talking my parents out of uprooting me again.
Bolting to the bottom of the stairs, I sprang, intending to take them two at a time. Instead, I soared over four steps, my feet landing with a thud on the fifth.
Sure, five-feet-eight was tall for a girl, but even my dad couldn’t hop that many steps as effortlessly as I just had. Unless, I’d already taken one step before doing the three. Had I?
My heart pounded, not with exertion, but sudden fear. Was my body freaking out or was I going crazy?
Eyeing the
first landing, I braced myself, then leapt again. My foot slipped on the third step and my knee smacked into the hard corner. I teetered backward and caught the railing before tumbling to level ground. Pain sliced through my leg.
My knee throbbed as I hobbled the rest of the stairs one step at a time, then limped down the hallway toward my parents’ bedroom. Testing myself for suddenly developed superpowers had been a lame idea.
By the time I stood over the threshold to their room, any discomfort had completely vanished. Like I hadn’t already had enough weirdness for one day with my freaky sense of smell and heightened hearing.
Speaking of smell, the nicotine stench in the house was particularly pungent today. Before I could give it more thought, I noticed my mom smiling up at me from her cross-legged position on the floor. A thin mist of smoke from the lit cigarette between her fingers swirled up toward the ceiling. I glanced at the window that was cracked open only a smidgen and wondered why my parents hadn’t already flung themselves through the window to get some oxygen.
“Autumn.” Dad’s blond head popped up from behind his laptop. He grinned at me as he set the computer aside to reveal all six feet two inches of him. “How was your day?”
“Hi, sweetheart.” My mom’s nearly black hair swished over her arm as she reached over to cram a T-shirt into one of several very full plastic bags. Donations to the thrift store, no doubt. Mom liked to travel light, so she always purged just before we moved.
My stomach twisted at the thought of starting all over somewhere else. Worse, with school almost over, why bother enrolling me wherever we ended up? I’d be back to home schooling.
“Something wrong?” Mom asked, exhaling as she flicked ashes into the ashtray.
Yes, something was definitely wrong, but my urge to rehash it with them died as soon as I’d seen the loaded bags. What was the point when they already knew how I felt? “I’m fine,” I lied, giving them a tight smile. “I have a lot of homework though. See you for dinner.”
I slogged down the hall to my room. After kicking off my shoes, I wiggled my toes in the silky fuzz of the white faux fur rug at the foot of my bed and drew in a lungful of air. Mom or Dad must have been smoking in my room recently. Gross. I glanced at my dresser to see a stack of folded clothes that had been dropped off. With another breath came the scent of laundry detergent. From across the room.
I didn’t know how I was able to smell it from that far away, but at that moment, I didn’t care. Fatigue nagged me. Maybe after a nap, I could forget my rotten day.
Sprawling over my purple comforter, I closed my eyes. Noises surrounded me — the patter of my mom’s feet as she went downstairs, a dish clattering against the counter, the refrigerator door opening and closing, water rushing through the pipes. How could I possibly hear all that?
From my prone position, I brought my knee to my chest and rolled up my jeans. My knee appeared perfectly normal. No swelling, no scratch. But as much as it had hurt bashing into the step, there should’ve been something to show for the pain.
My new super-hearing, crazy sense of smell and fast healing couldn’t be my imagination.
But it had to be.
I was just a normal girl who’d been reading too many vampire romances and werewolf tales.
† † †
Wolves howled in the distance.
I crouched perfectly still, huddled against a moss-covered tree trunk, surrounded by the scent of damp earth and pine.
The snarls grew louder and leaves rustled. The wolves were getting closer. Sweat trickled down my temple and my breath froze in my lungs as I braced myself for the inevitable.
I sucked in air and bolted upright, my heart thudding against my ribcage. I rubbed my eyes, then scanned the walls around me. My room. No wolves. I released my breath and flopped back onto my pillow.
It had been years since I’d dreamed of them. Why now?
The sun had lowered, casting shadows on the walls. It had to be almost dinner time. My stomach growled in confirmation. Shrugging off my nightmare, I headed downstairs.
When I settled at the table to eat with my parents, I was too disturbed over the day’s events to concentrate on food. Wayward boyfriends, bitchy friends, my inevitable return to home schooling… And then there were my heightened senses and accelerated healing — which were my imagination, of course.
“How are your classes going?” My mom eyed me over her plate of rice, sautéed vegetables and stuffed tomatoes.
She didn’t fool me. Their love for me was the one constant in my life, but they took it to extremes. One more thing to add to the list of oddities about my parents: they asked a lot of questions about my teachers, my friends and anyone else I mentioned. But if someone else asked questions about us, they got twitchy.
Like in Reno, Nevada, when I was fourteen-years-old, the waiter at a restaurant was curious why we were vegetarians and asked what school I went to. We’d moved a week later. Or a couple years ago when our neighbors in St. George, Utah had asked, in what seemed like polite conversation, where we were from — I’d told them. That time, I’d only had a few days before being whisked away.
Way to make me earn my adulthood by loving me to death. I adored them, but their backseat-driving and paranoia drove me crazy. And drove me away.
They weren’t exactly over-sharers either, so my info deprivation only fueled my imagination. I used to wonder if I’d been kidnapped, but blew it off since I looked too much like my mom. Had something bad happened to make them so overcautious? I’d asked, but never got any straight answers. Ironically, I’d hated their aversion to sharing information, yet I’d developed the same affliction with them.
Until I knew the reason for their paranoia, omitting details and giving my parents a more pleasant version of reality would keep them from worrying as much — and from ruining my life.
“Aced my history test.” Which was odd since I hadn’t studied at all. Like I’d suddenly gotten way smarter. “But I’m not sure why any of that matters since I won’t be graduating with everyone else.” I set my glass on the table with a bang.
Dad cleared his throat. “We’re doing what’s best for this family.”
“Whatever,” I mumbled.
Mom took a sip from her glass of juice, her gaze still steady on mine. “You should know, your father accepted that job today.”
So it was official. My eyes stung. “When does it start?”
Dad reached over to squeeze my hand. “We’re still working that out.”
My parents shelled out money for my private school, so we couldn’t be poor. But if we stayed here and they turned down work, could they still afford the tuition? Whether we stayed or left, I was screwed.
I blinked away the burn in my eyes as I withdrew my hand from his and got up. “Thanks for dinner.” After loading my plate into the dishwasher, I headed to my room to mope in private.
Just as I settled on the bed and turned on the TV, a rap sounded on my door. Apparently, going five minutes without laying eyes on me was too long. “Come in.”
Mom and Dad appeared in the doorway, each holding a glowing cigarette between their fingers. I wondered if it was a conspiracy to stink up my room.
With only the dim light from my TV barely reaching their faces, they could almost pass for teenagers. They insisted that their vegetarian diet and jogging every night kept them young. Except they smoked. Go figure.
“Did you want to talk about it?” Dad asked.
I muted the TV. “Is it going to change anything?” I fired back.
He shook his head. “We’ve made our decision.”
Exactly. They’d still haul me from city to city and they weren’t going to give me a pardon on the debt or unground me.
“Then I have nothing to say.” I switched the sound back on and turned to the TV.
Mom peeked past Dad’s shoulder, her amber eyes narrowing just before closing the door.
Damn them.
Restless, I jumped off the bed and opened the
window for some fresh air. I looked past the neighbor’s parted curtains to their ghastly, paisley-patterned paper, which I hadn’t been able to see yesterday.
Yep, even my vision was better.
Maybe my improved senses were stress-related. Like the way moms were capable of great strength to save their child. If I did away with the stress, maybe my body would start metabolizing normally again. Maybe that’s all there was to it.
After my shower, I threw on some pajamas, then went in search of dessert. Maybe after getting some chocolate in my system, I’d feel normal.
A lot of chocolate.
“We’re leaving for our run, sweetheart,” my dad said as I descended the stairs. “We’ll be gone an hour or so. You’ll be okay while we’re out?”
I blew out a breath, slipping in a groan for their benefit. “I think I can handle being home alone for an hour. Maybe one day, when I’m thirty or forty, you can leave me alone all day.”
Dad laughed, my irritation soaring over his head. Mom gave me a scolding look before following him out the front door.
On the way to the fridge, I shook out my arms to relax. An unfamiliar energy, like a power surge, centered in my chest and spread out. My pulse hammered. What the hell was that? Panic crept up on me. Maybe I had a brain aneurysm or something.
As my breathing calmed and the tingles faded, I could almost believe I was okay and that most likely it was just my crappy day that had taken its toll. Yeah, that’s all there was to it.
Grabbing a juice bottle from the fridge, I held it in one hand and twisted off the cap with the other. The bottle burst and liquid sprayed. I winced as shards of glass sliced through my palm and blood flowed down to my fingertips, blending with the spilled juice.
My heart pounded. I sucked in a few long breaths which seemed to dull the pain. With trembling hands, I threw the glass shards in the garbage, then ran water over my palm to survey the damage. The cool stream soothed my frayed nerves and washed the blood down the drain.
