Forks

It was already ten o’clock by the time I got dressed and combed the tangles out of my hair. Pushing my feet into my Eskimo slippers, I headed downstairs. My Mom picked the slippers up for one of her yearly trips on her bucket list. She started going on them after she watched the movie Bucket List—go figure. She went to see the aurora borealis and whale watch with one of her “friends.” He was the latest dumper or dumpee…I was never sure. Either way, he was the one that finally pushed my Mom right on over into batshit Crazyville. What a wad.

  The house was eerily silent as I made my way down to the kitchen with the exception of the creaking… everything. What was it about old houses—they all made god-awful noises. The realtor said the house was settling. The thing was a hundred years old; you would think it would be settled by now.

  A little light was on over the stove. My Mom must have gone to bed to “catch up on more of her reading” as she put it. I didn’t get it. She was always reading so I wasn’t sure what there was to catch up to.

  Most of the liquid had boiled out of my soup, so now it was mostly chunks. Too lazy to grab a bowl, I pulled out a tablespoon from the drawer and took a few bites, chasing it with a glass of milk my Mom had set out on the counter for me. I hated cold milk.

  Afterward, I put the pan in the sink to soak, rinsed out my glass, and refilled it with water before I headed up to bed. Luckily, I didn’t have any homework.

  Flicking off the light, I made my way back up the gloomy stairwell to the second floor. Over to my left I could see the light from my Mom’s room coming from under her door, so apparently she was still awake. I debated going over to say goodnight to her but decided against it since she would probably keep me up all night with a blow by blow of her evening with Deputy Dawg.

  Yawning, I climbed the stairs to my room and shut myself inside. It was too weird, keeping the door open—too many strange noises.

  Making my way to the bed, I grabbed the remote and cranked the volume on the television—to block out said weird noises. Pulling back the covers, I launched my slippers across the floor and climbed in bed. An old episode of I love Lucy was playing and I fell asleep to Ricky yelling, “Lucy you got some splaining to do.”

  I was pretty sure I was dreaming. Jake Langford, my biggest crush ever, was holding my hand, his thumb rubbing the inside of my left palm. Tingling sensations spread up my arm. It felt so real. His blue eyes stared down at me and he was smiling. I could smell the Abercrombie and Fitch “Fierce” cologne he always wore. His brown hair fell forward over his brow as he leaned his beautiful face toward mine. I knew he was going to kiss me. His lips touched mine gently; they were soft and hard at the same time. I caught a whiff of cinnamon and my dream veered off course. Gently, a hand brushed my hair away from my face. His deep blue eyes turned green with flecks of gold.

  “And so the lion fell in …” The words vibrated in my ear.

  My eyes snapped open. I pushed up, breathing heavily. It was still dark outside. Twilight was playing on the television…again. I groaned. “Shut up Edward.” Hitting the off button, I threw the remote across the room and fell back on the bed.

  This time when I shut my eyes, I didn’t dream at all.

  The sound of the shower splattering in the tub woke me. Disoriented, I looked around my room.

  I jumped from bed and ran over to my window. It was wide open and rain was pouring all over my desk and lamp. Freezing rain pelted me in the face as I struggled to get the heavy window shut. With one final tug, it finally closed.

  “I could have sworn I shut this.” Leaning down, I grabbed up the towel from last night. Something stuck to my foot. I lifted it up. Red covered the bottom.

  “Dangit!” Hopping over to my bed, I sat down. Gray morning light spilled through the large circular window. Settling back on the bed, I lifted my foot. My foot wasn’t bleeding; instead a Red Hot was oozing all over it. Picking off the sticky candy, I used the edge of the towel and wiped off as much of the red as I could.

  It was weird. I didn’t remember bringing candy up to my room. Closing my eyes, I fell back against my bed, dragging my covers over my face.

  Not two minutes had passed before my alarm buzzed. I jerked up, heart thumping wildly.

  “Shut up.” I beat the clock’s off button until it finally cut off. It never worked right—probably because I had a tendency to beat it daily. Sitting up, I looked around my room. I had the oddest feeling something was off—like something had changed since I went to sleep last night. Whatever it was, I couldn’t figure it out. Water pooled on my floor and desk, so I cleaned it up. Once finished, I grabbed my bag of toiletries and headed downstairs to get ready for school. Surprisingly, I wasn’t dreading it as much as I did the day before.

  After my shower, I dried my hair and I pulled on a pair of tan jeans and tossed on a black V-neck sweater over a plain white t-shirt. Opting not to wear my ridiculous boots, I shoved my feet into a pair of black converse. I didn’t care if my feet got wet. For some reason, one I didn’t want to ponder too much, I actually cared what I looked like for school today.

  Clomping down the stairs with my messenger bag and slicker in tow, I walked into the kitchen. The light was still off. I hit the switch and warm light spilled into the kitchen over the ugly linoleum floor. Grabbing a breakfast bar, I ripped open the wrapper and took a bite, while filling the coffee pot with water.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.” My Mom yawned, shuffling into the kitchen.

  “Hey Mom,” I mumbled past my bite of breakfast bar, glancing over my shoulder. Her hair was mussed and she was wearing her bright pink fuzzy robe with her own pair of Eskimo slippers. She looked younger than I did.

  “Are you using the car again?”

  “Yeah, if that’s all right,” I managed, swallowing my too large bite.

  “I suppose.” She sighed like she was mortally wounded.

  “I don’t want to ride the bus,” I pressed. We had this same conversation a million times. “I’ll look like a loser.”

  “Yes, yes, Amber. I hear you loud and clear.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She lifted her brow. “You want a car of your own but I told you about that already.”

  “We need another car.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “We don’t.”

  “That’s because you’re not the one who will look like a dork riding the bus.”

  “You’re always so melodramatic, Amber.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I said you could take the car, didn’t I?”

  “Well, yeah, but what about tomorrow and the next day and the …”

  She held up her hand. “We will have that conversation when we need to have it. Now I want some coffee. Did you make enough for me or did you only make enough for yourself.”

  I tensed. I swear my mom could be such a pain in the rear. “Yes, as always,” I sighed, “I made enough for you, too.”

  Grinning widely, she shuffled over and pulled me into a hug. Her hand slid down the length of my hair. “You have such pretty hair, it’s a shame you don’t do more with it.”

  And there it was, “KAPOW”, another backhanded compliment. My mom was great at giving those.

  “You could braid it, you know.”

  “Eww, Mom, I’m not ten.”

  Inhaling deeply, she pressed my face against her fuzzy robe. “Mom, I can’t breathe.”

  She let go. “I miss when you were little.”

  “Yes, I know.” This wasn’t the first time my mom said that. It happened all the time. Not that I minded… really… but it would be nice if she said she liked me the way I was now and not the way I had been years ago.

  “What are you going to do today?” I took another bite of my breakfast bar.

  “Well,” she exhaled and pushed her hands into her pockets. “I guess I could paint one of the rooms upstairs or maybe I will work on my book some.”

  “
Definitely work on your book,” I said. The last thing I wanted was my mom painting. She had a habit of starting a project and quitting in the middle and then I would have to finish it for her. I didn’t want to paint.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I have some ideas for one of my characters.

  “Great.” My mom was writing a novel. She’d been at it for as long as I could remember. It kept her occupied though, so I was glad for it. That way she wasn’t off doing…well, who knew.

  “Don’t forget what Ken said about going off by yourself.”

  “Huh?”

  “Ken…” She widened her eyes. “The Deputy…”

  “Oh right,” I said, remembering. He was the Wad with molded hair. “Why’s that again?” I had blocked out most of the conversation.

  “Amber,” she exhaled and shook her head. “There was another incident nearby.”

  “What kind of incident?”

  She let out an exasperated sigh, poured two cups of coffee, and handed one out to me. “It’s the third one this month.” She crossed her arms, sipping her coffee. It was one thing we had in common, we both drank our coffee black.

  “Oh—kay,” I said slowly and took a sip of coffee. “What happened to them?” I asked, not thinking too much about it. We used to live near D.C. and people were always dropping like flies around that place.

  “I’m not sure, what happened… exactly. You can ask him tonight.” She took another sip.

  “What?” I spluttered out coffee. “He’s going to be here again.” I set my cup down with a thud.

  “Amber!”

  “What?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t …what?” I crossed my arms.

  “You know exactly what I am talking about.” She set her cup down.

  “Fine.”

  “I need you to go to the store too.”

  “I was just there yesterday.” My voice came out a screechy whine.

  She lifted her brow in warning, which meant she was at the end of her patience.

  I exhaled. “What do you need?”

  “Some steaks, potatoes…here I made a list.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me.

  Scanning the list, I noticed she had a lot more good stuff on it for Ken’s dinner than she did for ours. Typical.

  five

  The bell rang just as I pulled into the parking lot.

  Great.

  I lifted my messenger bag and fiddled with the strap. I was hoping Vincent would pop into my car again but as the warning bell rang, I realized this probably wasn’t going to happen. Sighing, I lifted the handle and climbed out into another bank of fog. I shut my door and locked it. Stepping up on the sidewalk, I yanked my hood up, making my way to class.

  Footsteps sounded behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder but it was too foggy to see anything. A shiver of dread raced up my spine. Picking up my pace, I walked faster toward class. The sound of footsteps approaching sped up too. By the time I made it to the corner of the building, I was running. Breathless, I ran into the side door.

  The halls were deserted. I didn’t think I was that late. I could have sworn I heard the warning bell when I was in my car.

  I made it halfway down the hall when I heard the door open from behind. I turned, some small part of me hoping it was Vincent. It wasn’t. Instead, it was the guy who accosted me in the hall yesterday. He was standing just inside the door. His lip curled into a smile.

  Ducking my head back around, I hurried toward my first class. I could hear him laughing the whole way.

  The door to my English class groaned in protest as I pushed it open. The lights were out and it was weirdly silent. I was about to have a full-on- crap attack.

  “Take a seat, Ms. Davis, we don’t have all day,” Ms. Campbell said. A consensus of snickering followed. Now I had two reasons not to like her.

  “Turtle,” I mumbled, making my way across the room and slid into my desk.

  “Care to share your thoughts, Ms. Davis?”

  “Ah…not particularly,” I muttered, grabbing out my notebook. My bag fell open and my books thudded loudly on the floor.

  “Dangit.”

  “Ms. Davis,” Ms. Campbell screeched.

  Another round of snickering erupted.

  “Sorry.” Right then I decided turtle was too nice a name for her.

  A hand held out my book to me.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed my book and looked up into the smiling gray eyes of the guy that was in the hall behind me only moments before.

  “Not a problem,” he said.

  “How…”

  “Ms. Davis,” Ms. Campbell, screeched yet again. “Are you ready to begin class?”

  “Yep, I’m good.” I slid to the very edge of my chair, trying to put as much space between me and “the flash” as possible.

  The projector made a ticking noise as images of Romeo and Juliet flickered on the white screen on the wall. I glanced to my side, trying to be inconspicuous. Slumped down in his seat he doodled on a piece of paper, his long legs kicked out in front. My stomach clenched.

  “A picture would last longer.” He lifted his brow as if daring me to say something.

  I cringed and moved my hair over my face.

  He snickered.

  For the rest of the class I made a point not to look at him. It was hard though. I had a feeling he was watching me.

  The movie droned on, and combined with the warmth from all the bodies piled into one room, my eyes drifted shut.

  I could hear the movie playing. Claire Danes was crying. I knew this movie by heart so I didn’t need to look at the screen to know what part they were at. Something cold slid over my neck. My eyes snapped open. Turning around, I looked into the gray eyes of one of the Sparklers. The one named Viola. She gave me an evil glare and my heart thumped erratically.

  “Leave off, Viola,” “The flash” warned.

  She made a face and settled back in her chair.

  I turned back around and leaned forward, glancing under my makeshift hand shield. He was glaring at Viola, like he wouldn’t mind killing her.

  At least he didn’t look like he wanted to kill me…now.

  The lights snapped back on.

  “Now class,” Ms. Campbell said. “I want you to write a paper on the similarities and differences between this film and original and pose arguments for both.” She shuffled over to the white board and wrote two columns down. “I want your papers at the beginning of class Monday,” she said, as a reminder.

  A loud groan resounded in the room.

  “We will draw names to choose partners, like the last time.” She lifted a bowl off her desk. “I took the liberty of filling out the names of each student on this side of the room. The opposite side will choose.” She shuffled forward. The bottoms of her orthopedic shoes made a sharp squeaking noise against the tiles, like the players on the court at a basketball game.

  “Good luck, Ms. Davis.” She gave me a cold smile and held out the bowl.

  Reaching out, I picked a piece of paper.

  “Do not look.” Her eyes flashed. “Yet,” she finished.

  I felt sick. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. It seemed to take forever for everyone to grab a piece of paper. Finally, Ms. Campbell waddled back to the front of the room. “Now open your papers,” she instructed.

  Opening up my piece of paper, I stared down at the name.

  “Who is your partner, Ms. Davis?” Ms. Campbell asked.

  “I’m not sure who this is.” I waved the paper.

  “Just read the name.” She sounded irritated.

  I tensed. “Ah…it say’s…” The name blurred before my eyes.

  “Let me see that.” She ripped the paper from my hand, her old snaggled nail scratching me in the process.

  “Wonderful,” she tittered. “Viktor will be your partner.”

  I didn’t know if it was wonderful or not. I had no idea
who she was talking about. “Who’s that?”

  Exhaling loudly, she stepped back and pointed.

  I turned and my worst nightmare came true.

  He smirked. “Hey partner.”

  “Ah…” I looked around the room hoping this was some kind of mix up. “Ms. Campbell,” I said, standing. “Can’t I be paired with someone else?”

  She glared at me. “No, Ms. Davis, you may not.”

  And that was the end of that. She turned. The hem of her swirly print skirt was jacked higher in the back and swayed with each step she took as she waddled slowly up to the front of the room. I turned to sit back down. My chair skidded across the floor. I stumbled. “What the…”

  Viola, the she dog sparkler snickered. “What’s wrong newbie?” She pursed her glossed lips. “Can’t find your seat?”

  “I told you…” Viktor stood and with lightning speed he was across the aisle, his hands pressed to her desk. “Leave off,” he growled, hovering above.

  The bell rang.

  Quickly, I grabbed my messenger bag off the floor and shoved my books inside. A few of the other kids in class were laughing and talking with each other about where to meet or exchanging phone numbers. I pulled my strap on my shoulder and stepped into the cluster, trying to get out of class. Someone grabbed my arm. I looked down and Glinda was standing next to me, her cherubic face alight with laughter. “You are sooo lucky,” she gushed.

  “Why’s that?” I asked, and since when was she in this class, too?

  “He is really smart and cute.” She let out a breathy sigh. “I am teamed up with Tucker, he smells.” She wrinkled her pert nose.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “You want to switch?”

  Her face brightened and then she looked over my shoulder. “No.” She frowned and shook her head, making her curls bounce around her face.

  Letting out a pent up breath, I pulled my hair out of my jacket.

  “You smell better today.” Her eyes glittered strangely.

  “Thanks…I guess.” I frowned.

  “Hey you…”

  I turned and there he was, towering over me.

  “I have a name,” I snapped.

  “And that would be?” His brow lifted.

  “Amber.”

  “So Amber, you want to give me your number?”

  “Not really.”

  “Fine by me,” he said, and without a backward glance, he walked past me, right out of the room.

  Glinda gaped at me. “Why’d you do that?

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged, not wanting to tell her the real reason—he freaked me out.

  She giggled. “You’re funny.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She shook her head and her china blue eyes widened. “No one talks to him like that.”

  “Well, there is a first time for everything.” I took a step forward.

  “Stop!” She hit my arm.

  I looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “We should go out sometime.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “Great!” She bounced in place. “What are you doing this weekend?” She grinned.

  “Um, I guess working on this paper.”

  “Give me your number.” She pulled out a marker and pushed up her sleeve.

  Again, I noticed the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist, except now it reminded me more of a bat, with jagged teeth and red glowing eyes. I blinked and looked again. It was back to being a little black bird. Weird.

  “Ah, how bout giving me your number.”

  She jutted out her lip, making a pouty face. “Okay,” she breathed and grabbed my arm. Before I could say anything, she jerked up my sleeve and scribbled her number on my arm. “Call me anytime.”

  “Oh—kay,” I said slowly and pulled my sleeve back down.

  “Oh and make sure you wear something nice for your date.”

  “I’m not…”

  She nodded her head up and down. “Yes you are…you just don’t know it yet.” She winked and stepped into the hall.

  Following her out, I stepped into the hall. “I’m not going anywhere…” I said, but she was already gone.

  The rest of school passed in a blur and was pretty uneventful, which I was glad for.

  After the last bell rang, I gathered my books from my locker and headed out the large glass doors. There was another downpour. The rain hit the ground so hard it bounced back up off the sidewalk. Fog hung low to the ground, creeping across the lawn. A group of “sparklers” pushed through the doors past me while I waited under the eaves. Unlike me, seeking cover from the rain, they pulled off their jackets and danced into it, laughing with their arms up above their heads. Like I said before…there were some strange folk around these parts. Pulling my hood up, I waited for them to dance away.

  Finally, the last of them disappeared around the side of the building. I took a step forward but then stopped. I had a feeling someone was watching me. Slowly, I turned around. Leaning against the column behind me was Viktor. A gust of wind blew his long coat outward. Again, it reminded me of a large wing.

  Taking a breath, I stepped forward. “Um…so ah…”

  “See something you want?” He pushed off the column and took a step toward me.

  “What? No!” I shook my head.

  He laughed and brushed past me.

  “Wait!”

  He stopped and turned. The rain beat against him, wetting his hair, reminding me of the color of black ink. “Yes?” His brow hitched up a notch.

  I walked out into the rain. It was deafening. “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” I shouted.

  “What foot might that be?” He pushed his hair away from his face. There was a small scar near his left eye.

  “The wrong one, obviously,” I snapped sarcastically, tugging my hood up further.

  “I don’t have time for this.” He started walking.

  I raced to catch up. It was hard though. He had long legs, and mine weren’t short exactly, but a lot shorter than his. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be…” I sidestepped a huge puddle.

  He stopped. “You didn’t mean to be what? A bi—h?”

  “Hey,” I cut him off, wiping water from my face. “You’re the one that said I had a death wish.”

  Stopping abruptly, he turned. Water ran down his face but it didn’t seem to bother him. “Where are you from?”

  “The east coast…why?”

  “Well that answers that.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t have a sense of humor… obviously.”

  I gaped at him.

  “See.” He lifted his brows.

  “I’ll have you know,” I flustered. “I have a perfectly good sense of humor but you …”

  He leaned forward.

  “What?” he breathed in my ear.

  Warmth spread over my face.

  I couldn’t think. My thoughts jumbled. Not able to say anything coherent, I merely shook my head.

  He pulled back and sighed deeply. “I’ll call you.” And then he took off, leaving me staring stupidly after him in a downpour.

  “But you don’t have my number.”