Descendant

by LJ Amodeo

  “By the way, I’m Michael Shepard.” He said, holding out his hand. I held mine out to his, as he took it in his strong grip. His thumb stroked the top of my knuckles. His touch sent my mind reeling with images of iron clad warriors, sprinting in full battle attacks. The voices returned, whisperingAlgizin my ear, manifesting symbols of small circles, pentacles, crescents, and triangles. All good signs, I thought, shaking the vision and voices from my head. I made a mental note to write aboutAlgiz in my journal.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

  I looked up at him, hoping that Freddie didn’t tell him about my secret.

  “Yeah. I’m fine, thanks.” I answered quickly. “Hey, can I ask you something?” I said.

  “Sure.”

  “Why were you waiting for me outside?” I stuttered.

  “Just wanted to, that’s all. Is that a problem for you? Is there a jealous boyfriend I should be concerned about?” He twisted one side of his lip in a sexy upward grin.

  “No.” I replied, staring at his mouth.

  “No. . .It’s not a problem, or no, you don’t have a jealous boyfriend?” Michael teased.

  “No to both,” I answered intensely looking at him through my long lashes.

  “Does that mean you and Freddie aren’t together?” Michael inquired.

  “No. He’s my friend.” I replied watching his lip twist into that delicious grin again.

  I wanted desperately to ask if he had visited Webber Memorial when I was there, curious to know if my faulty mind played tricks on me or if Michael was actually there. But before I could ask, Michael interrupted my thoughts. “Weren’t you at the library in Angelica this summer?” he asked. My heart pounded loudly.He remembered!

  “Yes.” I smiled.

  “How did you do on the paper you were working on?” he looked down at his notes, tapping his pen as he waited for me to answer.

  “Aced it.” I replied, biting my lip. I dreaded going to the library that morning. Now I was glad I did. “I’m surprised you remembered me.” I giggled nervously twisting at the hem of my shirt.

  “Why wouldn’t I remember you? It’s hard to forget a face like yours,” he replied smiling to himself. Under the fluorescent lighting, it was easy to see his cheeks glowing with color.He’s a romantic. This made me crave him even more.

  When he turned to me, controlling the temptation to touch the outline of his jaw was not easy. The way he rested his head against his hand, watching me with his seductive eyes, made me squirm in my seat. The desire to know what was on his mind catapulted in my stomach.

  “Why are you here?” I blurted out, gasping at the irreversible question that escaped from my loose lips. I immediately cupped my mouth in total humiliation. “I mean what made you decide to come here . . . to Houghton Academy? By the sound of your accent, you’re obviously not from around here.” I corrected myself, hoping for redemption.

  “In search of my dream. Isn't that why everyone comes to the Highlanders’ stomping grounds?" He chuckled sweetly, observing me.

  “Seriously?” Again, I laughed nervously.

  “Just kidding. Tell you what. . .if you have time, maybe we can hang out someday, and I’ll tell you why I’m here.” He grinned.Time,I thought,I would give him an eternity if heaven allowed me. An eternity, I thought, turning away from him, hiding my emotions.

  “Are you okay? Look, if you don’t want to go out with me, it’s okay. I won’t be offended. You don’t have to get upset over it,” he whispered politely avoiding the eavesdroppers.

  Too ashamed to face him, I giggled uncontrollably for what I was thinking was certainly not what was in his thoughts.

  "No!” I shouted initially, grabbing the attention of some in the classroom, but lowered my voice several decibels before speaking again. “I have time. I mean . . . I’m sure I can find the time in my busy schedule,” I remarked nonchalantly, attempting to sound cool. Michael smiled. His gaze made me feel unsteady, but strangely, in a good way. I was drawn to him. And I really liked it.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he whispered leaning close to my ear. His breath was sweet and delicate against my face. I looked into his eyes, then at his lips. I no longer heard my thoughts, but only his melodic voice resonating in my head against the rhythm of my own erratic heartbeat. I finally understood what all thehype was about. It truly does exist, this thing calledlove at first sight.

  “Music,” he muttered, breaking the silence and interrupting my thoughts.

  “Music?” I asked.

  “The answer to your question. I’m here because of the music program at the academy. It’s among the best in the northeast, and since I won second place in the Tchaikovsky Music Scholarship, I decided to finish my last year of high school here to prepare for my college auditions.” He replied satisfying my earlier curiosities. A small flutter stirred in my stomach. What were the odds, that the only contest winners of the scholarships in the entire nation were the two of us.It was meant to be! This is going to be a good year.I smiled to myself, content with the idea of spending it with Michael.

  “It’s nice to finally meet theother winner.” I smiled proudly.

  “What do you mean the other winner? You know who beat me?” He smirked narrowing his eyes playfully.

  “Yours truly!” I giggled lifting my brows victoriously. His playful glower warmed my core. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How the two of us ended up at the same school? What are the chances...” I blushed.

  “So it’s you who beat me to first place?” He smiled, curling his lip in a way reminding me of some old photos my mom kept of Elvis Presley. “I’m guessing in many of the same classes, then?” His tantalizing accent stirred in my head.

  “It seems that way.” I flirted back.

  “Mr. Shepard.” A grating voice interrupted us from the front of the classroom. We looked up at Father Thomas, who apparently, by the sound of his raspy voice had been excessively puffing away on his smokes before his lecture. I bit my lip nervously.

  “Yes, Father?” he replied sitting up tall in his seat.

  “Would you or Miss Morgan care to explain to the class who the patron saint of faith in the Blessed Sacrament is?” he smirked. Father Tom rested his arms over his plump belly, struggling for air as he waited for either of us to respond. Michael looked over at me.

  "Do you want me to handle this or would you like to do the honors?" he smirked.

  I ducked into my seat, giggling and feeling a bit guilty nodding my head. “I’ll pass. You can have this one,” I whispered.

  “St. Anthony of Padua, who was born in Portugal in 1195 and settled in Italy after joining the Franciscans. His deep knowledge of the scripture earned him the title of Doctor of the Church,” he stated confidently about the saint. “Should I continue, Father Thomas?”

  “No, no! I’m impressed. Just keep your focus on the studies of the Scriptures and not elsewhere, Mr. Shepard.” Father Thomas winked at Michael.

  I prayed that the remainder of class moved slowly, but as luck would have it, class ended by the sound of one single irritating bell. I hated that bell. I immediately jotted down my reading assignment for this evening. Michael stood up with my coat already in his hands, generously holding it open, as I slipped my arms into it.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, as he tugged me back gently by my shoulders, whispering, “I’m privileged and look forward to seeing you again.” And with that said, he walked away, turning slightly toward me for one final wink before exiting the classroom. A sea of emotions flooded my already ebullient mind. I plopped back down onto my seat, exasperated with his inability to notice how much I desired him.

  Freddie waited by the doorway nodding his head slightly, as he fist bumped Michael on his way out. “Love struck?” he laughed at me. “What’s with you, Beth? I’ve never seen you like this. You’re on another planet!” Freddie said, mimicking a spaceship whizzing above my head with his hand. I shrugged my shoulders, not even I was sure how to handle this new emotion in
the pit of my stomach. It was certainly an unfamiliar feeling for me as well.

  At 2:45 the school day ended. There was a buzz of excitement in the chilly December air. A surge of energy packed the campus, as students and staff said their goodbyes before scampering off to their two-week-long holiday break. Sophie publicly announced her family’s trip to the sandy beaches of Turkey. All the while, a black raven cawed loudly in the sky over head, catching only my attention. Almost deliberately.

  Samantha leaned against her Range Rover, her mouth twisted in irritation at Freddie, who seemed to be in a deep conversation with himself about his hair and biceps.

  “Hey, guys!” I shouted across the parking lot. “Are we ready to go?” I could sense Sam’s unmasked frustration sparked, perhaps by Freddie’s self-admiration.

  “Ugh, finally! What took you so long? I can’t bear another minute of this maggot!” Sam gnashed through her teeth, rolling her eyes at Freddie as she walked to the driver’s side of her SUV. Before she reached for the handle of the car door, she stopped, arched her shoulders and strained her eyes at something that made her openly uncomfortable. I followed her glower toward an extraordinary vision across the parking area.

  Leaning against his gleaming car, Michael locked eyes with Samantha. Disappointment ripped through my chest and crushed my heart like an empty bag of chips. I couldn’t understand why I felt this way. He didn’t belong to me. I only just met him. Besides, why would I ever believe he’d be interested in me when there was a goddess parading around the school in her high black patent leather boots and Dolce & Gabbana leopard tote . Wary, I suspected that his interest in me abruptly faded once he laid eyes on this supermodel-look-a-like. I turned to Sam, whose expression was not one of flirtatious enthusiasm for the newcomer, but of abhorrence and disgust. Her lips pressed into a hard line, followed by a hiss that spewed out through her clenched teeth. I wasn’t sure what to make of her odd behavior, I didn’t know how to react, or what to do. I never made their introduction, but wondered if they perhaps met while I was out, sick. Yet, Sam never mentioned meeting him. My mind began to wonder,hadthey met before coming to Houghton?They both did come from money.Could they have traveled in the same circle, as Sam put it when she spoke about Sophie?Looking at Sam, the intensity in her eyes resembled diamonds in a kaleidoscope; turning various shades of green while a peculiar veil diluted their vivid emerald color.What in God’s name . . .

  She quickly turned away from us, her body quivering. Her fists clenched tight. Freddie, being Freddie, was already in the back seat of her truck, oblivious to the tension outside the vehicle. Michael turned his attention to me. I wanted to run to him, to ask him what was wrong. But when I looked back at Sam, she had already started up her truck.

  I hesitated before climbing into Sam’s SUV, baffled over their reaction toward one another. Looking back at Michael, I wanted to say something, but instead confused, I climbed into Sam’s car. “What happened out there?” I pointed in Michael’s direction. “You looked almost possessed, Sam. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “It’s nothing. I thought I knew him—wrong guy.” I could see her eyes peering at Michael as she started to pull out of the parking lot.

  "But it seems like you know each other," I pushed harder for an answer.

  "I told you, I thought I knew him, but I don't! Drop it!" she snapped, accelerating on the gas.

  I chose not to press the issue, although I really wanted to until Freddie tapped my shoulder from the back seat, silently advising me to drop it. So I did.

  “Where to?” she asked, composing herself behind the wheel. I looked back at Michael, who remained standing in place—watching as we drove away.

  We drove out of Caneadea’s town limits. The sky turned cloudy and the temperature dropped to a frigid seventeen degrees. We agreed to eat at JoJo's in Andover, where they served the county’s best burger topped with fried onions. We ordered burgers with steak fries and root beer to wash it down. Samantha didn’t eat much. She mostly played with her food, moving it around in her plate with her fork. Perhaps her fussy eating habits contributed to her stunning figure, I thought, as I took one final bite of my half-eaten burger.

  “You gonna eat those?” Freddie asked, as he helped himself to a fist full of Sam’s fries. “This place makes the best fries!” Freddie commented, with a mouth full of the greasy potato sticks.

  “Glad you’re enjoying them, Freddie.” I mocked his childish enthusiasm.

  “What? Can’t a guy enjoy a good meal?” he replied, through ballooned cheeks.

  I glanced at Sam, who sat pensively on the red plastic-covered bench-seat. Her intense thoughts creased her perfectly tweezed brows. Her eyes met mine, then flicked to Freddie who was absorbed in his usual one man dialogue. Her mind, I knew somehow, was conjuring up a way to get rid of something. I figured it was Freddie.

  “We’re gonna have a good time tonight, Elizabeth. We have lots to talk about later. You must fill me in on all the juicy gossip about the guys in school and the bitches that bagged them . . . you know what I mean?” She winked at me, bouncing her brows playfully.

  I never cared to know who had been with whom, and which girl had bagged what guy on campus. On a campus that hoped to educate its students with proper Christian values, there was a lot happening that didn’t necessarily follow the good Christian guidelines. It never interested me, though. I wasn’t one to gossip or start rumors, and there was never a rumor interesting enough to spread. Not in Caneadea, anyway. I admitted, however, that I never had a boyfriend, only crushes, mostly for the untouchable movie-star kind when I was in grade school. When I entered high school, from the shadows of my own lonely life, I observed freshmen hooking up with sophomores, or seniors wooing juniors. My thoughts on getting involved with a boy were far too negative anyway, and for one reason, the fear of getting hurt and being left alone, like my mom. I wondered about Michael Shepard, though, about his past girlfriends and what they were like. I pictured him with someone desirable like Sam. Not me. However, I was curious to find out the history behind the two newcomers.

  Freddie’s ears suddenly perked up at the idea of us gossiping about boys.

  “Boys, huh? Am I included in that sizzling topic?” Freddie interjected my thoughts. Still chewing a mouth full of food.

  “Dream on, dip-shit!” Sam spat out her words.

  “What is with the name calling? Besides, Beth’s not a gossiping wench, like others around here. I won’t mention any names,” he muttered under his breath, raising his hands defensively. “Tell her, Bethy! You see Sam, Beth’s what you call agood girl, but you wouldn’t know anything about that now, would you Sammie?” Freddie said, sitting back casually extending his arm over my shoulders, completely satisfied with his meal and his biting words. Humiliated, I looked away, embarrassed at what a prude I must have seemed to her. To my relief, Sam disregarded Freddie’s comments about my uneventful dating life.

  “Whatever, Freddie! Anyway, I’m thrilled you’re sleeping over, Beth” Sam turned her attention to me, while she rolled her eyes at Freddie.

  Freddie looked at me, wide eyed and choking on his food. “Wait! Did thisfemme fatale just say you’re sleeping there?” He stammered, peering at her accusingly.

  “Aren’t you a little too old to be having a pajama party? Isn’t that for twelve year olds? Hey, Beth, if it’s a ride home you need, I can pick you up later, or I can come hang out with you girls until you’re ready to go home.” Freddie said, stumbling on his words this time. His voice almost trembled.

  “Freddie, I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m a big girl now. I think I can handle a sleepover. You’re not jealous that you weren’t invited, are you?” I taunted him with pouting lips.

  “Really, I don’t mind chilling with you girls,” he repeated, almost begging.

  Sam looked over at Freddie who continued to shovel spoonful’s of ice cream in his mouth like a child rather than a college-bound, soon-to-be eighteen-year-old.

  Di
sgusted with his pathetic display of table manners, she said, “Poor boy! Did your mommy not allow you to sleep out? How about I make you a deal?” Sam said, baring her teeth between perfectly painted lips.

  “A deal! Wow, now that’s original coming from you,” Freddie sneered.

  Sam was not smiling this time. She stared at Freddie without blinking. The two of them had become like an old married couple. Bickering any chance they had. It amused me to know thatopposites really did attract. As black and white, or night and day as these two were, they were cute together, as I imagined Michael and I would be.

  “Anyway, as I was saying about our deal. Your choice, either let me give you a much-needed leech facial to get rid of some of your unsightly zits—or dye your hair green. I know how much you love your hair.” She said tossing a fry at him. “Your choice Fredster. And you damn well know I never give choices. Therefore, agree to one and I’ll invite you into my home. For that matter, I'd even let you sleep in my bed,” she jeered at him.

  Samantha’s mood swings were like riding a roller coaster. Most people in Caneadea were easygoing and relaxed, apart from Freddie who was hyperactive and irritating, most of the time. Sam was different from anyone I had known. She went from a manic high to ominously sinister, almost bipolar. She could express so many emotions at one time, exposing her to be extremely peculiar at times. And then it occurred to me. Maybe we did have more in common than I thought. Perhaps, we were both victims of some sort of psychological mess and this is why we were drawn to each other. It started to make sense.

  "I'll take you up on the offer. I’ll sleep in your bed, but be sure you give me a firm pillow because there’s something I’d like to put to rest tonight. For good! As far as green, it's not my best color. I'd prefer red. Say Sam, isn't that your favorite shade?” Freddie snapped back. Sam’s face hardened.

  “Easy guys! It’s just a sleepover. Seriously!” I interrupted, hoping to change the course of the conversation.