Dead Radiance

by Ayer, T. G.

  I stared from the darkness, half a smile on my lips, one foot on the wooden deck so the swing didn't give me away with a random creak, holding my breath. He thumbed the doorbell and peeled off his helmet. Long black hair dripped over his forehead and caressed his nape. He fluffed the dark mop, not in the vain I-look-so-hot way, but in an unconscious get-out-of-my-face way.

  For the first time in my sad and predictably unlucky life, my heart lurched in my chest. All the soppy, mushy stuff was present: lightheartedness, breathless expectation, deep rosy blushes. Exactly the way girls fell for the male lead in chick flicks or the way the simpering heroines swooned in great romance novels.

  I barely heard the porch door squeak open. I even missed Ms. Custer saying, "Oh, it's you. Come in, come in!" He followed her inside and I waited while they talked. Crickets chirped, reminding me to get my head out of the clouds. A steady breeze tugged at the branches of our red oak and cooled my heated cheeks. I didn't dare enter the house. Or leave the veranda.

  I peered through the drapes as they talked in the living room. Though I strained to make sense of their conversation I got nothing but muffled sounds. When they shook hands and walked back toward the door, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heaven. He was leaving.

  Ms. Custer let him out and shut the door behind him. I waited. He took the two porch stairs in a single stride and slung his leg over the bike. Right before he put his helmet on he turned and looked straight at me, through the darkened branches of the climbing rose, which should have hidden me from view.

  "It's rude to spy on people, you know?" He softened his words with a smile, teeth glittering even in the fading evening light. The darkness hid the hot red of my cheeks. His deep laughter echoed as he shoved the helmet onto his head. He shut the face-piece of his helmet, cutting off the stomach-tingling sound of his voice, and revving the engine. Silver gleamed at his neck and then he disappeared into the gathering shadows.

  I shoved off the swing, sending it into a creaking frenzy. Caught, embarrassed and fuming I'd even done such a thing. I pushed the front door open and barreled into the living room.

  Ms. Custer's knitting occupied her generous lap; needles flashed this way and that, keen on creating her next rainbow-colored scarf. On the TV Hannibal smiled and chewed on his cigar.

  "Who was that guy?" I asked, keeping my expression as neutral as possible, hoping the color in my cheeks had faded away.

  "Oh, that nice young man is our latest foster." Ms. Custer had fallen for his smile, too. "He'll be moving in tomorrow bright and early."

  Fabulous.

  Mr. Hot Wheels, who'd made my pathetic heart race, was moving in. Just great. I harnessed my embarrassed rage, ignored the temptation to run upstairs, slam my door shut, throw myself onto my bed and scream into my pillow. Instead, I gazed through the window at the shadows that had swallowed Biker-dude. I still couldn't wipe the stupid half-smile off my face. Guess it would do no harm to have some eye candy around. And though Joshua had qualified as eye candy, he'd been my friend.

  Biker-dude didn't look much like just-friend material.

  Sleep eluded me, and when at last I succumbed, my dreams were hazy, filled with the bright golden gleam of Joshua and Aimee, screeching tires and crunching metal.

  And the faint echo of the rev of a motorcycle engine.

  Chapter 6

  Morning rushed in on quicksilver feet, clear and bright and at odds with my musty sentiments. Another school day. Running the gauntlet with Cherise and her friends at North Wood High. Just great.

  Before Joshua, I'd never cared much what other people thought of me. But then Joshua died and I'd survived. And now Craven deepened its hatred for the interloper, the new girl who'd come into their lovely town bringing darkness, death and destruction.

  If I hadn't figured out the true meaning of the glow, I'd have done the same: blame Bryn.

  I pushed scrambled eggs and pieces of hash brown around on my plate under Ms. Custer's disapproving gaze. The little yellow globs stuck to the roof of my mouth, while oily bits of fried potato tickled my throat. I had to choke down the urge to hurl.

  Poor Ms. Custer was certain I was eating elsewhere and though I wished I could express my fear that my metabolism was shot to hell, I knew she'd never believe me. People believed what they wanted. Foster parents had to believe the child coming to them would be a problem. The preferred stereotype because they didn't dare to wish for a good kid and end up with a rotten one.

  Ms. Custer wasn't the standard out-of-the-box foster parent, but how could anyone believe a person could survive a whole month without food? Me and my big mouth. I was simply unable to lie to her. I sighed. She thought I'd lied anyway.

  I scraped off my plate when she turned away, then dragged the strap of my bag over my shoulder. Outside, I tucked my chin in against the cool wind and walked fast. The brisk trip to school cleared my head, refreshing me until I reached the sidewalk in front of the old redbrick structure of the main building. Huge windowpanes stared out, glassy eyes reflecting the clear blue sky above. The pretty picture did nothing to ease the dread in my gut.

  ***

  I stepped into the grey gloom of the school halls, dull and drab compared to the rich red of the building's facade. Stares tickled the hair at the back of my neck; whispers raised the goose bumps on my skin.

  Same old same old, until I received a summons to the vice principal's office during first period English. My feet got me to his office. Reluctantly.

  Vice Principal Warren examined me from behind glasses with rims so thick it looked like he had frightful cataracts. Nevertheless he managed to imbue within them sufficient venom to pique my curiosity and awareness.

  My heart thumped.

  This didn't bode well for my day.

  "Miss Halbrook, I want to get a few things straight." His grotesquely misshapen eyes stared.

  I waited. Was I supposed to ask him to clarify? Unsure, I decided to go with silence.

  Finally, he snorted and said, "It's enough you've managed to influence our young Joshua . . . and now the poor boy is dead. Such a future he had before him. Such a waste." Warren shook his head, the fluorescent light above him throwing his well-oiled hair into starker light, casting strange shadows on the sagging lines in his face. His fingers traced the slippery strands at his neck, fingers coming away slick with the oily residue.

  He spent too long scanning my face, a self-satisfied, sinister twist to his lips. I squandered precious seconds wondering if Craven had any links to Salem. I waited, vulnerable prey in the face of Warren's vitriol.

  "I hope you will concern yourself with your schoolwork and nothing else, Miss Halbrook." He leaned forward. I ached to back away, but the steel backrest of the chair wouldn't allow it. "I will have none of what you got up to at the funeral with Miss Barnes. The poor girl was upset enough without your insinuating comments."

  "Huh? We barely spoke." But I could tell he wouldn't believe me. I gritted my teeth.

  My ears rang, great clanging sounds so deafening it was a wonder I registered a word he said, but I did. Damn well heard Cherise's pathetic, successful lies. I wasn't the most popular kid in the school, but I swallowed a bitter pill sitting in the principal's office, unable to defend myself. It must have been against my constitutional rights in some way, but in Craven things didn't work well for Bryn Halbrook.

  "Oh, that reminds me. We have a new student starting today. And since he is from Ms. Custer's care, it seems appropriate for you to shepherd him around instead of any of my other students. It's really, really sad to see there isn't enough being done with kids like you." He sneered, the corner of his lip rising to reveal nicotine-yellowed teeth.

  He picked up a sheet of school-issue yellow paper, the ones Craven kept for detention and permission slips. The oil from his fingers seeped into the paper, spreading, bleeding the ink of the printed words.

  "Kids like me?" I tried to keep the bite out of my voice but it didn't matter. Warren listened only to the sound of
his own voice.

  "Yes, Miss Halbrook. Troubled kids like you fall through the cracks all the time. The system is not perfect, that's quite clear. But I will not, and shall not, allow you to run riot in my school. My school, my rules, Miss Halbrook. One wrong move and you are out."

  He slapped the yellow paper on the desk in front of me and motioned for me to leave. I picked the sheet up, careful to avoid the greasy blobs and the smudged ink.

  A name ran across the page in bright red ink beside the words Student Name.

  Aidan Lee.

  I read the paper as I walked out of Warren's office, my initial desire to slam the door behind me well and truly forgotten. Now I knew the name of the mysterious biker boy.

  ***

  "Hi, I'm Aidan."

  The subject of my recent conversation and my stupid thoughts now stood up in front of me. He'd been seated at the bank of orange plastic chairs outside Warren's office. I cringed. How long he'd been there and how much he'd heard?

  His smile wavered when I looked at him, my face blank with shock. I stared straight ahead, eyes fastened on the bit of silver at his throat. Three triangles merged in an unusual pattern, gleaming as it hung from a simple black cord.

  He cleared his throat, interrupting my scrutiny of his jewelry. I recovered, remembered my manners.

  "I'm Bryn Halbrook." I shook his hand. Polite society dictated it. My eyes remained on the worn leather cuff of his jacket. Anywhere but his adorably tousled locks. The warmth of his palm sent traitorous sparks of electricity firing all the way up my spine.

  "Ah yes, my voyeur." His low voice purred against me, then brought me straight out of my electric trance.

  "Look, I was out on the porch when you arrived so don't get big-headed," I snapped, tugging my bag tighter on my shoulder, crumpling the disgusting yellow page.

  "So why didn't you say something?"

  "I wanted to be alone. The last thing I needed was some loud-mouthed jerk disturbing my peace."

  "Mmhh. Sorry if I offended you." He raised both hands in defense, a slight scowl wrinkling his forehead. "But I do need you to show me to my first class. I'm pretty sure I can find someone to point me to the next one."

  My face bloomed red and this time no darkness or shadows veiled my stupid emotions. "Look, I'm sorry. You are my responsibility for now. And the last thing I need is more flak from Vice Principal Warren. I'll show you around but don't get any ideas. We aren't friends or anything. From tomorrow you are on your own."

  I stalked off, and his footsteps thunked on the linoleum behind me. I sighed. He didn't put up a fight, throw a tantrum or sulk. Goody for him.

  We went straight to English where we spent all of two minutes before the bell rang. Mr. Levy handed us our homework and shook his head.

  Okay, so the principal called me to his office. I wasn't cutting school here. Not doing anything wrong! I bristled in silence, my anger like a little gargoyle, dark and forbidding and so very unpredictable. The reasons for my summons to Vice Principal Warren's office didn't matter. I was guilty as charged, straight to jail, no bail.

  The day passed in a gritty blur and the final bell brought an unspeakable relief. Dragging Aidan around all day hadn't been as bad as I'd expected. Most of the time all I did was get him to the class. He was ogled and drooled over plenty by the day's end. Lots of short skirts and close-fitting tees to keep him company.

  I gritted my teeth for the umpteenth time. Busy stuffing books into my locker, I jumped when someone appeared right next to me. Cherise almost managed to creep up beside me unnoticed. Only her cloying lavender perfume gave her away, seconds before I would have elbowed her in the face as I turned.

  "Seems you have only one thing going for you at the moment, freak." She spoke softly but I caught the sneer right before it turned into a brilliant smile as Aidan closed in.

  "Ooh, look who it is," she said as Aidan joined us. "Aidan."

  Wow. It is really possible to breathe a name.

  "I'll see you on Saturday night then. It's a date." She snuggled closer, running her hand over the dark leather covering his arm.

  As those tiny red-tipped fingers ran along Aidan's arm, I clenched my fists. The need to act on those vicious thoughts burned like hot lava. I imagined grabbing her fingers and breaking them off his arm, one at a time.

  I blinked away those awful images, horrified. Through the blur of anger, one unfamiliar emotion raised its head, daring me to deny it. One emotion that fairly knocked me on my butt. I had absolutely no claim to Aidan Lee whatsoever.

  And yet I was rip-roaringly, green-eyed-glaringly jealous.

  ***

  We walked home in silence. Me, deep within the maelstrom of my pathetic emotions. Aidan with his nose in his iPad. Some foster kid he was. An iPad for Pete's sake? Okay, so maybe I was somewhat jealous. But who wouldn't be when you spent years with almost nothing? Not even a mom or dad.

  Two weeks after my thirteenth birthday, my father had died in a car crash, killed when a drunk driver and an icy winter's night met head on. My father had prepared for the unlikely event of his death, but I would have preferred to have him alive and with me again.

  I'd have a bit of my inheritance soon. At the end of the school year, I would receive a small lump sum to allow me to prepare for college. Fees and expenses to be paid directly by the lawyers who executed the estate. Daddy happened to be a bit of a rich dude. Guess genetic scientists made a packet. Still, I'd have to wait until the end of the school year before I could indulge in the luxury of an iPad.

  I spent a few seconds wondering about my mother. The mother who'd abandoned me when I was five. Not a birthday card or telephone call since. Where was she right now? Did she ever spend precious moments thinking of me? I doubted it. I may see her as my mother. But she thought I wasn't good enough to stick around for. She'd even refused to take me in after my father's death. All those psychiatrist visits and my childhood tales of people who glowed had probably freaked her out.

  I glanced at Aidan again, who managed to keep up the pace without running head first into the black gums dotting the sidewalk.

  "What's so interesting?" I tried to break the silence, still thick with the memory and odor of Miss Barnes. The rich lavender scent of her perfume would give even a non-sufferer hay fever. I twitched my nose against a sneeze and waited.

  "Nothing much. Just checking the news." Aidan smiled and shut the cover, shoving the tablet into his backpack. Faced with the full impact of his arresting smile I stared, unable to string any words together.

  What an idiot.

  I was drooling too. It took one sultry stare from Aidan to reduce me to a simpering love-struck mess to rival Cherise and all her handmaidens.

  When I didn't respond he asked, "You don't like me much, do you?"

  Funny you should say that right when I am busy drooling over you. "You are an anathema." I answered out loud, shaking free of those weak female thoughts.

  "Huh?" He grinned, despite his confusion at my words.

  "You go against the grain." I bit the words out, hoping to end the conversation.

  "Sorry, you're going to have to expand on your train of thought there. I'm completely lost." He shook his head and I wondered if he'd already dismissed me as the fruit-loop of Ms. Custer's little foster house.

  "You're not the typical foster kid," I said. "Foster kids don't fit in. Not with the jocks or the science nerds or the popular kids. Nobody likes temporary inmates. But Aidan Lee is unlike any foster kid ever known. He has the popular girls already panting at his heels." A nasty, cold bite laced my words, as if a viper now controlled my voice and swayed in silence, ready to pounce.

  Aidan frowned, glancing at my face as we paused to cross a street. "I didn't ask Cherise out, if that's what you mean."

  It was exactly what I meant but hell if I was going to admit it. And what did he mean he didn't ask her? I didn't dare to request further clarification. He'd get an even more inflated ego if he knew his new foster sister was vib
rating with pure jealousy a foot away from him.

  "That's none of my business. And it's not what I meant." I should have bitten my tongue. Maybe then my mouth would've stopped running loose, but things like this usually happened to me. Intention and action didn't always work hand in hand with me. Some sort of rebel I was!

  "Well then, please feel free to explain any time this millennium." Aidan grinned but it did nothing to ease the sliver of annoyance and more than slight curiosity lurking in his dark eyes.

  "You're here for one day and you're already amassing an entourage. Forgive me for not bowing and scraping along with the rest." What I'd failed to ask was why it was never that easy for me. He'd managed to insinuate himself into the student body with disgusting ease. Within a week, nobody would ever mention he was a foster kid. He'd just be one of the popular kids.

  Somewhere within the functioning part of my brain, I knew it was unfair to blame him for my failings at this popularity contest or for his sudden rise to stardom within North Wood High, and I clamped my mouth shut before another snarky comment could emerge.

  None of what I said rattled Aidan's serene composure until now. We passed under the cold shade of a huge black gum, whose wide, low branches hid what little sunshine had been warming my head and shoulders. He grabbed my arm, fingers brushing soft skin beneath my woolen jumper. I shivered. The cool shade or the heat where his fingers held on to my arm?

  "What is your problem?" The question whispered on my cheek as he pushed me against the trunk. The branches hung low, providing a brief curtain of privacy.

  "I don't like you," I stuttered. "That's my problem. So maybe . . . stay away from me."

  "Fine." He growled the word.

  We were close enough that a breath would bring our lips together. My heart thudded and tumbled within my chest so violently, I was terrified he could hear it. What were we arguing about again? I couldn't recall. I just savored the drug-like heat.

  His own heart thudded where his chest lay against my arm. Our breath mingled.