When I reached the house, swollen clouds were just beginning to darken the sky, and a chill clung to the air. Eager to burrow into my cozy bed, I tugged on the gate before I realized that it was locked. I cursed under my breath. I had forgotten to ask Matt for a copy of the key before I left for school. Plan B was calling Matt and asking him to open the gate for me. Which wouldn't have been a problem had Matt made a habit of charging his phone. Plan C would have been using my necklace to open the gate just as I had unlocked the door, but I hadn’t worn it to school (I learned at my old school that jewelry had a bad habit of suspiciously “disappearing” in the locker rooms). The universe must have been working against me.
With my sister still in school, all that was left for me to do was climb over. I sighed and braced myself for the inevitable Plan D. I threw my backpack over the gate, which landed on the other side with a satisfying crunch – probably the sound of my massive U.S. history textbook splitting in half. I then proceeded to fit my hands and feet into the decorative iron bars and climb toward the top.
But before I got three feet off the ground, I had already lost my balance. All it took was thirty seconds of physical activity for me to gracelessly fall on my butt with an unattractive grunt.
I had all the physical strength of a potato chip. I stayed on the ground for a few seconds to catch my breath and wallow in self-defeat, until I heard the muffled laughter. Damn, someone must have seen me. I abruptly pulled myself off the cement in a rush to recollect my senses...
And I found a boy staring at me.
"You don't seem to be very good at that," the boy laughed as he approached me from the tree he had been leaning against. I gasped lightly in surprise. He seemed fairly tall for his age, but, instead of being awkward, he walked fluidly and soundlessly. I knew it was shallow, but it was impossible not to notice that he was shockingly good-looking. Maybe he was a model. Although he probably wouldn’t have needed to be so muscular to be a model. His pale skin contrasted sharply with his ebony hair, which danced along his brow as he made his way toward me.
"Not good at what?" I said without thinking.
"Climbing." He gestured to the gate. Obviously.
"And you think you could do better?" I replied defensively. I didn't even know this kid. Why did he get to judge my physical abilities?
"I'm sure I could..." he murmured under his breath, smiling to himself at some sort of private joke. Ugh. Who was I kidding? He looked like the kind of guy who jogged religiously every morning while I helped myself to extra syrup and pancakes.
"Are you hurt?" he inquired, probably just to be polite.
"A few scrapes won't kill me, so no.”
"Let me see." He held out his hand in an offer to inspect mine, the suddenness of the action making my pulse quicken.
"Absolutely not," I blurted with the air of a third grader who staunchly believed in cooties. I kept my hands firmly balled at my sides. "No offense, but my parents told me never to talk to strangers, much less hold hands with them."
The boy scowled, frustration marring his lovely face. "What do you think I'm going to do?" He smirked and added in a low, smoky voice, "I can assure you my intentions are strictly honorable."
"Said every boy to every girl in the history of forever." I rolled my eyes. "And that line is especially odd coming from a stranger," I pointed out.
"Well, my name is Adrian. And yours?"
"Amber."
"Amber…” he said, as if tasting the name. “And now we are no longer strangers." In a quick flash of movement, Adrian grabbed one of my arms and began to look it over for damage. The fact that I didn't feel awkward letting a stranger examine my appendages for injuries just made me feel uncomfortable with myself.
"Interesting," he remarked with furrowed brows as he scrutinized my completely uninteresting hand. "You're completely fine." Then what was so interesting?
I yanked my hand back with a snap. It had begun to grow grossly clammy, and if anyone were tallying attractiveness points, I would already be losing by a dozen.
"I told you. Now please, I don't mean to be blunt, but you can go back to doing whatever it was you came out here to do. I need to get over this godforsaken gate, and I'd prefer to do so without an audience."
"What if I told you I came out here to meet you?" Adrian looked at me seriously. Dazed by the sudden intensity of his piercing blue eyes, I stumbled for words.
Luckily, I was able to mentally slap my brain back into function in time to respond, "Well, then that would just be… bizarre.”
"How is wanting to finally meet my new neighbor bizarre?" Oh. If he just wanted to meet me because I was his neighbor... I had to admit I was slightly disappointed.
"Shouldn't we go to the same school?" I realized, conveniently squirming out of answering his question. He couldn't have been that much older than me.
"Haven't enrolled yet. Maybe I'll do it later," he shrugged. "Maybe not."
"Isn't that, like, illegal?”
"Well, who's going to tell?" he smirked devilishly.
I guess he had a point, because I certainly wasn't.
“Are you a model?” I blurted. Why had I said that? It was as if the filter between my brain and my mouth had completely disappeared. I felt myself blushing profusely and began damage control. “I mean, I just figured since that would make sense, what with you not in school, since I’ve known kids who were models who basically just stopped attending class.” I wanted to disappear in the ground.
Adrian just seemed nonplussed. “A model? How so?”
“What do you mean? By advertising products, you know, on TV or on the Internet or in a magazine…?” My voice trailed off at the end. He sounded as if he didn’t even know what modeling was.
“No…?” Adrian replied uncertainly. “I don’t think I’m a model.”
"Oh.” Why would he have to think about that? “Wait, then if you don’t go to school, wouldn't your paren-"
"We’ve been out here for a while. You should get home," he announced abruptly, looking up toward the sky. "Let me help."
He walked up to the lock, and I heard something fall into place then click. The gate was unlocked. What the hell...
"How did you just do that?"
He shrugged. "These gates are fairly easy to open, if you know what you're doing."
That hadn’t been the case for our professional locksmith!
"Should I be concerned that you can break and enter into our property?" I asked, gaping at him.
"You could be, but if I were going to rob your house, I probably wouldn't have just shown you that I could open this lock, would I?"
"I... guess... not?" I shook my head. Whatever, the gate was open. If I were going to flee his disconcerting presence, now would be the most ideal time. "Well, I've, uh, got to go. Thanks for opening the gate." I spun around and fled into the property, leaving him behind. He wished me a good evening to my back.
God, I had terrible people skills.
Chapter Seven
That night I discovered that I was deathly afraid of thunderstorms, thanks to the wrath-of-God, blow-your-house-to-pieces monsoon that rolled in. Or, at least that's what it seemed like compared to the quiet, nonthreatening showers I had been used to. And as if that weren't bad enough, the house produced eerie, creaking noises under the strain of the wind.
I drew my sheets up to my chin and watched the lightning illuminate my ceiling. I couldn't sleep at all.
The storm was getting worse. When I deemed myself sweaty enough to have to evacuate the security of my blankets, I walked to my window to see what trouble Mother Nature was brewing. Debris had been strewn all over the yard and pool, as the rain pelted a slick layer of water that had formed over the concrete. The muddy sidewalks would no doubt make going to school all the more fun tomorrow.
My gaze wandered to the neighbors' house - Adrian's house. I realized that if it had been taken care of, Adrian's house actually would have looked a lot like ours. Which of the rooms was his, I
wondered. I mused over the idea as I perused the windows.
There was a flash of lightning, and almost instantaneously a deafening boom. But in that blinding burst of light, I could have sworn I saw a tall, slender feminine figure angled toward me in one of the windows. I shut the curtain with shaky hands and slipped under my covers.
Who in the world was that?
I tried to calm myself down. It had to have been Adrian's mother, just looking out the window to see the storm, like me. But I was too wound up to sleep, and desperate for someone to talk to, so out of habit I used my phone to Skype Dylan.
"Mh-Amberr, wha-aht?" Dylan mumbled sleepily as he clicked on his lamp and struggled into the sitting position on his bed. Sleep lines crisscrossed his face, and his hair had been flattened on one side. He must have fallen asleep watching a sports game, because he was wearing his favorite San Francisco Giants jersey.
"Oh geez, sorry for waking you up." But standard calling hours had never really existed for Dylan and me. We had disturbed each other in the dead of the night before with whimsical phone calls and no regard for acceptable calling times.
"No, 's fine...Wait, why is it all dark over there? I can hardly see anything." Dylan squinted at me through the screen.
"Well, it's nighttime. And I don't feel like turning on the light." Yeah, because I didn't want my glowing window to attract the attention of whoever... or whatever... was in the opposite house.
"Ohkay then." Dylan yawned. "What's cracking?"
"Thunder, specifically." A loud boom sounded off behind me, enhancing the effect. I couldn't keep myself from shuddering.
"Huh, that storm sounds pretty bad." Dylan looked at me with concern. Like me, he had never had to deal with severe weather before. "And you look really, really pale."
"Probably just the poor lighting. Which is pretty much nonexistent, by the way." But the next bright flash that illuminated my room undoubtedly provided him with enough light to see the color drain from my face.
"You don't look very good. Should I call your brother to check on you?"
"No! He might still be asleep." I frowned at him. Why did he have Matt's number? "Anyway, the reason I called – and I know I'm going to sound crazy -- is that I’ve still been seeing weird stuff in the house next door," I blurted in a quick flurry of words. "—even though I met the kid who lives there, and he seems okay, although slightly off in a way I can't just put my finger on."
Dylan ran his hand through his hair and sighed. His expression turned pensive. "You should just move back here with me -- with us."
"Be serious Dylan."
"I am being serious. That house seems really weird, and I don't know how you expect to live for another two years in constant fear of your neighbors." Dylan sat up straighter. "Anyway, we all miss you. Nathan isn’t the same without Heather, and my parents would love to have you again. We miss you. I miss you."
I felt a guilty little lump rising in my throat. Whenever my parents had gone on business trips, which were often, Heather, Matt, and I would always stay with Dylan’s family, whose house had become like our second home. Our parents had been best friends, and until a few months ago, Nathan (Dylan’s little brother) and Heather had become almost as inseparable as Dylan and I. While Dylan and I would spend our afternoons playing videogames or reading, Nathan and Heather would harass frogs and birds at the lake. We were odd little pairs, but we were close.
But, of course, after our parents died, nothing was the same. Nothing is ever the same after a loved one dies. Dylan's parents were fraught with the task of delivering the awful news. Heather and I slipped into secluded mourning, and Dylan's family found themselves in the difficult position of reviving us from our corpse-like despondency. Despite how hard they tried, Heather and I only showed any signs of improvement after Matt’s arrival. But even then, we couldn't bear to carry on our lives in our childhood house, or even the city that constantly haunted us with memories of our parents. So we left. And, as much as I wanted to, I was by no means ready to go back.
"You know we can't do that," I said softly. "You don’t understand how much it hurts – never being able to forget them; remembering something about them, something you did with them everywhere you look."
"Well, I have an idea!" Frustration crept into Dylan’s voice. "I was there when you were crying on the ground that night, and listened to you scream in your sleep every night after that, so don't pretend I don't understand anything." Dylan's gaze softened. "I'm sorry."
My eyes stung. He was right. He had been there.
"Just, please... think about it."
"Sure, sure..." I replied noncommittally without looking him in his eyes. "I guess I should try to go to sleep. Big day tomorrow. What with my second day of school and all."
"Make sure to watch out for puddles on your way to school. I wouldn’t want you falling into the mud again,” Dylan cautioned playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"For the last time, Dylan, that only happened once, and I was six."
"Never hurts to be too careful.” Dylan leaned back against his pillow. His eyelids alternated between drooping shut and flickering open. He must have been fighting to stay awake. “Well… are we good?"
I rolled my eyes. "Of course we're good." We could never hate each other even when we wanted to. And then we hung up.
After that I was up for another two exasperating hours, during which I jumped at every creak, and I squeaked at every shadow. Eventually I managed to conk out after the storm passed, leaving me with a hearty four hours of sleep in total. Nothing was more fashionable in high school than dark eye rings that screamed either drug addiction or sleep deprivation. I secretly hoped that everyone (mainly Cecelia) would be too preoccupied, or at least self-absorbed, to say anything.
Chapter Eight
The next morning as I was leaving the house, I saw Adrian again. I had just finished locking my gate and mentally prepping myself for a muddy walk to school, when I turned around and discovered that Adrian had materialized behind me.
"Crap!" I blurted in surprise, almost dropping my bag on the sidewalk. “Do you enjoy showing up at inconvenient times?" I grumbled, in a bad mood thanks to lack of sleep.
"Good morning to you too, Amber," Adrian responded, ignoring everything I had just said.
"Look, I've got to get to school. Which you should also be doing."
"Ah, too bad the rules don't apply to me now, do they?" Adrian smirked. Yeah, too bad...
"Why are you even out here, then?"
"Garbage needed taking out." He pointed to a trash can on the sidewalk. "I guess I just have impeccable timing. But you look tired. Storm kept you up?"
"Is it that obvious?" I touched my eyes with my hands as if I could pinch the exhaustion away. "I think someone in your house was also up too, so it's not like I was the only one."
Adrian looked at me confusedly.
I sighed. "I can see your house through my bedroom window." I said it slowly like it was super obvious. Hopefully that would emphasize that I wasn't a stalker.
"Huh, must have just been me then," Adrian said without blinking.
"But whoever I saw looked a lot like a woman.” I checked my watch impatiently.
“Definitely not me. Probably my sister. She could pass for a female creature of sorts.” Adrian shrugged. Ah, sibling love.
"Probably,” I affirmed. I was relieved that he hadn’t said, “No women live at my house,” which would have meant that I was crazy or he was lying. “How old is your sister?”
“Sixteen, I think. Yeah, she’s a year younger than me, and seventeen minus one equals sixteen. See? No school, yet I still have impeccable mathematical ability.”
He flashed a heart-stopping, crooked smile that caught me by surprise.
No, now was not the time to be distracted.
“Truly remarkable.” I forced myself to roll my eyes at his sarcasm. Better to look unimpressed than disconcerted by his mere presence. “I would stay, but if I don’t get
to class, I’m afraid my mathematical skill will never match yours.”
“Well, by all means, go.” Adrian ushered me ahead with mock urgency.
“Thank you, I’ve been trying to do that.” I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation before briskly taking off. Even though I didn’t look back, I could feel him watching me as I walked away.
***
I listlessly tapped my red pen against my desk to the beat of “Howl” by Florence + The Machine as I listened to the dull scratches of Alexis’ pencil against paper. She had forgotten to do her homework last night, and she was scrambling to complete it before Ms. Garner noticed. She was a brave soul.
“Amber!” Ms. Garner growled from her desk. A music-like murmur arose from the back of the class. I strongly suspected it had originated from Cecelia.
“Yes?” I responded with as much civility as possible.
“Are you too lazy to correct your homework, or do you simply believe yourself to be above the menial task of recognizing your mistakes?” Ms. Garner articulated coldly, her eyes focused on my idle red pen.
“I’ve already corrected my paper, Ms. Garner,” I said, waving it in the air like a flag as proof.
“Then why do I see no red on it? Don’t you dare try to lie to me, Miss Tesse,” Ms. Garner accused. She was making quite a spectacle, and seemed to be thriving on my embarrassment. She looked determined to make up for the lack of red on my paper by creating blush in my cheeks.
I balled my hands at my sides. “You would see red had I actually gotten anything wrong, Ms. Garner.”
“Mind if I verify that?” Ms. Garner smiled, clearly confident that I was utterly incapable of doing my homework properly. As much as I wanted to ensure her that she would only be embarrassing herself, I kept my mouth closed.
She checked my homework once, twice, then three times against her copy, her face growing darker each time. I couldn’t help smirking.
“Must you really feel the need to flaunt your luck so indecently with that incessant tapping?” she snapped.
Feral (The Irisbourn Chronicles Book 1) Page 4
