The Watchers (Book 1: The Watchers Series)

My neck was cramped and my body sore from sleeping on the window seat all night, but when I awoke the next morning I felt good. Daniel’s jacket was still wrapped around me in a soft blanket. Unable to stop the first impulse, I lifted it to my face and smelled it. It smelled good, like cologne and flowers after a summer storm. I pushed the jacket away and shook my head in irritation when I realized what I was doing.

  I was being stupid.

  I knew from long experience that I had to be careful with my emotions. I couldn’t expect too much from his actions, because he would somehow end up disappointing me. Men couldn’t be trusted. What my father had done to my mother was proof of that.

  I got ready for school in a haze of fevered activity, excited, despite my rational thoughts about not getting involved. I knew I would end up at school early again.

  When classes started, my hopes of seeing Daniel, and my curiosity to know if he would be as kind around the others as when we were alone, were dashed. The crowd in the gym was focused around three figures, not four.

  “Clare!” Jennifer waved as soon as she saw me.

  “Hey,” I said, talking over the hum of thoughts.

  Mark gave me a huge grin as I sat, and Jennifer scowled. Does he like her? How could he find her attractive? I’m, like, ten times prettier!

  I kept my eyes on the boy’s locker room as the others talked, but Daniel didn’t materialize as he had the night before. I felt depression creep up, the voices and thoughts of the others swirling steady around my emotions. It was just because I wanted to give him his jacket back, I told myself stubbornly. I didn’t want to have to lug it around in my bag all day and have someone see it. Plus, it was taking up book room.

  A thought interrupted my excuses: It’s unbelievable. They’ve known me since we were in diapers, yet they fawn over the new girl and ignore me. Why can’t they at least act like I exist? Was it so long ago we were friends? Images of Jennifer and Michelle when they were younger materialized in my mind.

  I looked down and saw the girl from yesterday, the one on the fringes of the group, her mousy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her back was to me, but I knew it had been her thoughts; the tenor was identical to what I had heard yesterday. Only her body language, out of all the kids around me, matched the depressed thoughts. I stared at her in compassionate empathy. I wondered if Ellen was right and the girl was using my parentage as an excuse to hate me. Another excuse to hate me, I should say. She obviously didn’t like how easily I was fitting in. The fact Ellen had me at seventeen was an easy out for that hatred – if the girl was a staunch religious nut.

  Coach ambled out of his office, trying to pull down his too small shirt as he walked. With a sharp blast of his whistle, he called the class to order and told us to find a partner for tennis again. One of the girls sitting close to me offered to be my partner, thinking our match would make for a good story. I agreed, and let her score a couple of shots, so her story could be more entertaining. With each awkward serve she sent my way, I found myself longing for my previous partner. He would make this class into a challenge. He would make the time fly, instead of me noticing every stupid second.

  “I heard you and Daniel went on a walk last night,” Alex said, surprising me. I hadn’t heard her thinking about it. We were at the same bench at lunch, hiding in our little nook as we ate our salads.

  “Where’d you hear that?” I asked carefully.

  “A boy in my math class was driving his dad’s car last night…he was telling the whole class about it. He said he saw you two on Reed Street.”

  “Does this boy’s dad have a sports car?” I asked belligerently.

  “Yeah, he bought it from Mark’s dad last fall.”

  “I oughta kill him! That ass almost hit me! What’s his name? Do you have his address?”

  “You were out with Daniel, then?”

  “I wasn’t out, out, with him,” I explained, “I just ran into him at the pharmacy. He insisted on walking with me.” For over an hour. In circles. Which was ridiculously fun.

  I looked at Alex thoughtfully. She seemed to know about people; she could figure them out better than I could. Maybe she understood some of Daniel’s mystery. I couldn’t see the harm in asking the question burning on my tongue.

  “What’s his deal?”

  “His deal?”

  “Well, he was being nice.”

  She started laughing, the force of it rattling the bench. “Oh, God! Not…not…NICE!”

  I made a face at her. “I know you’re nice, but I’m not used to people being so…you know?”

  “I know…but King’s Cross isn’t like other towns. Everyone has their idiosyncrasies and their petty concerns, but people care about one another here. We’re all ‘nice.’ You’ll see eventually.”

  “That was an evasion,” I said.

  Would she believe me if I told her that he was just a good guy? “He doesn’t have a deal. He’s just Daniel.”

  I accepted her words as truth. “You see a lot about people, don’t you?” I asked.

  She shifted uncomfortably. “I just pay attention.”

  “I don’t lie, you pay attention. We could fight crime if we wanted to.”

  She giggled.

  Fight crime! Bah! She’s the evil that walks the earth. She’s a plague on mortals. She shouldn’t live, she doesn’t deserve to live. If only I could kill her now!

  I jumped, spilling my tray of food.

  “What?!” I yelled at Alex.

  She looked at me, her laughter fading. “What?”

  “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything!”

  She was right. The voice I’d heard had been in my mind. I bent down and started picking up the food I had spilled, feeling like an idiot for reacting so forcefully.

  “I could have sworn I just heard someone call me fat,” I said in a poor attempt at covering my reaction.

  I struggled to keep my eyes on the floor and not search the hallway. I realized this person, whoever they were, could still hear me, even though the trail of thought had died away. I could feel them watching me.

  Alex started giggling again. “Who would call you fat? You’re a bean!”

  “Thanks?” I replied dryly.

  “Sure.”

  My throat felt dry. My body coursed with adrenaline I was finding hard to control. As calmly as I could manage, I started toward the lunchroom on the pretense of dumping my food. But the whole way back to the cafeteria I felt that strange sense of being watched. It was a pervasive feeling not easily ignored. I scoured the corridor nervously, but it was absolutely and oddly deserted. Perhaps, hearing people’s thoughts all the time was making me hear voices when there weren’t any. Going crazy would fit in nicely with my expectations for my life.

  I thought about it, silence creeping between Alex and me. No, the malice I’d felt was way too real. I couldn’t make that up. And that voice! I felt as if I was hearing it everywhere. I shivered and followed Alex into the lunchroom, the thoughts being thrown at me as I entered a distraction from the fear and hatred I had heard. Not a welcome distraction, but a distraction all the same.

  The rest of the week passed faster than I thought a week could. I didn’t hear the nasty thoughts again, even though I started searching for the owner in earnest. I wanted to understand what they meant, or why whoever it was would hate me so vehemently. Was I found? Should I run? Twice I lingered in the hall during lunch with the sole purpose of trying to hear the mystery voice. The corridor remained empty, my search fruitless. How could I find what wasn’t there?

  Going against our normal policy of absolute truthfulness, I didn’t tell Ellen about the voice. I tried a couple of times, but couldn’t bring myself to bring it up. She was hoping, beyond hope, that this place would work out and we could stay. She was searching for closure to her past. It was a search I didn’t want to interrupt.

  I was curious, though, to the point of obsession. Whoever was having these thoughts knew things about me;
I just wanted to even the playing field. Was it a kid at school? If not, who was it, and why were they hanging around? Why had they been at my house? Why were they so serious about killing me?

  It didn’t help that Daniel didn’t show up for the rest of the week. It just increased my worry. I was worried he had gotten the flu or was otherwise sick because I had taken his jacket. The added worry just made me irritable. Would calling him be too weird? Even to check up on him? How would I get his phone number? Why was I so worried about a stranger?

  On Friday, after a week of trying to downplay the desire to see him again, even if it was just to argue with him, I asked Alex if she had heard anything, needing an answer to one of my questions. No one had given his disappearance a thought, something I found peculiar and frustrating. Surely, people didn’t just stop coming to school and no one cared? I had fought against the impulse to ask her all day, but finally caved in on our way to chorus.

  “He goes on trips with his parents for their work. He has permission to go whenever he needs to as long as he keeps up with his homework, which, of course, he does, being the brilliant child of scientists and all,” Alex explained.

  “He’s brilliant?” I asked dryly, skeptically.

  “Yep. Apparently, intelligence is genetic,” she said with a laugh. “Ask Mrs. Heart. She had Daniel take an IQ test. It was off the charts. I heard her talking to another teacher about it.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said curiously.

  “Why do you ask?” she asked curiously.

  We walked into the chorus room, and the teacher chided us for being late, cutting our discussion short. I was grateful. I wasn’t sure if I could honestly answer Alex’s question. Not in a way that would prevent lots of blushing and internal scolding.

  When the final bell rang, I was the first one out of the door. I kept my head down and hurried out the front to avoid the kids hanging out by their cars in back, knowing they would stand there and talk for an hour, maybe longer. I knew, too, if I didn’t flee, Alex would badger me until she got a reply that satisfied her. I wasn’t eager for that either.

  As the sunlight hit me, I decided to walk around despite the chilly air. I hadn’t explored the town any since my walk with Daniel, centering my time between school and home. It was a tactic that kept the thoughts out, but it was depressing. I was getting cabin fever. I could do with some exploration. Maybe, like last time, this exploration would come with a distraction.

  I started up the street, giving most of the brick shops cursory glances as I passed, not interested in knick-knacks for tourists to prove they’d visited the awesomeness of King’s Cross. Wanting to get off the main road, I turned and walked onto a back street in search of the beautiful houses that were everywhere, remembering the road from my last walk. As I walked, the depression from earlier in the week crept back into my brain.

  Fitting in was nice, despite the fact that most people were still carrying around horrible stereotypes about me, but I missed Savannah. I missed the city and the shops. I missed the music stores and reading in the afternoons in one of the numerous parks downtown while musicians played nearby. I even missed the bums and the panhandlers. I missed…I stopped walking in stunned disbelief. Speaking of music stores!

  I read the sign to my right, which claimed the yellow house behind it was my typical place of worship. The small house looked more like a grandmother’s house, rather than an honest, wholesome, music store. Could it really be? It was irresistible…I had to check it out.

  I walked up the stone path and crossed the porch to the front door, thinking I should knock on the pretty door. Instead, feeling awkward, like I was being bad, I pushed it open slightly and checked to see if anyone was around. A tall, skinny woman, with short silver hair, smiled at me from behind a tiny counter that was squished between sheet music and musical instruments. Her eyes were curious but kind.

  “Hello, dear. Can I help you find something?”

  Her thoughts were soft, but I could hear them as she played the guessing game she played with all strangers: I bet she listens to jazz and blues with a splash of rock thrown in. Those dark clothes don’t fool me. I know a jazz lover when I see one.

  I stepped further into the shop, encouraged by her voice and her thoughts. “No, thank you. I’m just looking.”

  She smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  I nodded, and she went back to reading her book. My eyes strayed around hungrily as I walked past her into the shop proper. The shop was perfect, the way a music store should look: messy, overflowing, and full of curiosities. I spied several expensive guitars hanging on the wall and I went over to survey them. One, a beautiful acoustic, stained a rich mahogany color, stood out from the others. I walked around the center aisle, so I could be closer to it, and touched it wistfully. I dared not play it. The price tag told me I could never afford it. I was saving my money for a car, and this guitar was the price of a used car. Despite my practical thoughts, I stood poised next to it for a long moment, fighting against the urge to play it.

  A bell chimed I hadn’t heard when I first entered the tiny shop, breaking the hypnosis the guitar had put me in. I took away the hand I had placed there, not wanting to get caught looking so helplessly in love with a guitar. Turning towards the row of CDs that made up the middle of the small shop, I purposefully didn’t look to see who had come in. I didn’t want the attention, or the thoughts, though I knew the thoughts were inevitable. The woman asked the person same thing she had asked me.

  “I know what I’m looking for, thank you,” a ridiculously melodic voice answered.

  Doubting myself, I looked up to be sure. Daniel stood on the other side of the CD aisle as if he had never walked off, leaving me with his coat and a crap load of questions. He had a boyish smile plastered on his face, and his hands were jammed in his pockets in cool confidence. We looked at each other for a moment, and I noticed he seemed different. His face was more open and free, as if he’d found the key to a prison he had been walking around in.

  “I think you’re stalking me,” I told him, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.

  He’s a stranger, Clare, I reminded myself firmly. A stranger whose thoughts you can’t read…don’t act so natural around him.

  His grin spread further. “What if I am?”

  “I’d have to wonder at your tastes. Surely, there are people more fun to stalk? People who go to more places than just home and school?”

  “And to music stores apparently.”

  “I couldn’t resist.”

  “You’re a fan of music?” he asked.

  “You like breathing?”

  “I suppose…”

  Daniel started down the opposite side of the CD aisle, running his fingers lightly across the titles as he went. He was wearing blue jeans and a red t-shirt with a strange logo in the center. His hair was a different array of messiness, but still dashing. His face maintained an expression of happy confidence. What was he thinking? My eyes narrowed in aggravation at his impossible silence. I wanted to know where he had gone this past week, what his warning had meant – I’d take anything, even a malicious thought.

  “How’s your week been?” he asked playfully. His eyes sparkled with the light pouring in through the narrow windows. Dust swirled in the light making everything hazy and dream-like.

  Besides hunting down someone who wants me dead? Wondering where you were? And being frustrated at your cryptic warnings and mysterious ways? “Fine.” I bit my lip and looked at him. “Why’d you tell me not to go in the woods?”

  “Did I?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to go there?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  I looked over his shoulder and saw the woman watching us. “Okay.”

  He rounded the aisle, his fingers still brushing the CDs, and joined me on my side, shortening the space between us. I turned away and ogled the guitar, figuring it was the safer of the two to ogle. Not fighting the impulse, too distrac
ted by him being so near, I reached out and strummed the strings. My heart lifted up a couple of inches at the sound it made. It was beautiful and pure, everything I had thought it would be. As the note faded, sadness replaced the warmth I felt. Something this beautiful and amazing could never be mine. It was too beautiful.

  “Do you play?” he asked.

  He moved even closer. He was so close our arms were almost touching.

  “I used to.”

  “But you don’t anymore?”

  “I haven’t played in a while, no.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s always why with you.” This reply wasn’t good enough for him. He waited for me to answer, his face patient. “Fine. I just kind of lost interest. I figured, ‘what’s the point?’ you know?”

  “Does there have to be a point?” he asked.

  I shrugged and strummed the guitar again. “Purpose is good to have.”

  I turned and started to walk to the front of the store, uncomfortable with the way his body was talking to mine. We were too close. His body was too familiar. The woman at the counter had disappeared into the back, giving us space. It was just us. That only increased the feelings coursing between us.

  He followed me to the door and reached across to open it before I could. I wanted to take a step back from his overwhelming presence, but there was no room. He hesitated as he opened the door, his body trapping me. I had nowhere to go.

  “But sometimes too much purpose blinds you to what’s really important,” he said seriously. “It makes you see the end result, instead of the journey to get there.”

  “I can agree with that,” I said awkwardly.

  His face shocked, he took a step back and held the door open for me to walk through.

  “What? I can’t agree with you?” I demanded, glad for the cold air and the space.

  “Of course, you can. It’s just strange for you to. From what I’ve gathered, you like to be contrary.”

  “No, I don’t…”

  “Right…Can I ask you a question?” he asked as we walked down the broad stairs.

  “Only if you answer mine.”

  “Deal. Why did you and your mom move here?”

  I laughed. Was he serious? He was looking at me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans again as he walked. He genuinely wanted to know. His eyes told me so.

  I told him, hoping, trusting, he would keep the story to himself. “My mom is from here. This is where she grew up. She ran away when she was very young. She didn’t get along with her parents very well…her mom wanted a life for Ellen that Ellen just didn’t want. Beauty pageants and conforming…it just wasn’t Ellen…Her mom wouldn’t listen, so Ellen ran away. We’ve been all over the United States for…various reasons, and she hoped that coming back here would end our, uh, moving.” I had almost said running. “Her dad died about four months ago, and he left her the house in his will. It was sort of a major shock for us, because he hadn’t talked to her since she ran away…”

  I trailed off thinking about the memories that were haunting her. I had found her last night crying over a picture of her parents. I had comforted her, and we had talked until late, but talking had only done so much. There were demons here she was facing every day. Demons I couldn’t face for her.

  “But it’s hard for her to be here?” Daniel asked.

  I nodded. “There are a lot of bad memories for her here, and more than her share of regrets.” I creased my forehead in thought, watching my feet as we walked. “But she needed to come back. It’s important to her. And if it means her dealing with things that have haunted her since she was young, then I can deal with being here. I owe her that much.”

  “Why?”

  “Ellen and I are worlds apart, but she tries to understand me. She lets me be me, even if she doesn’t always get it. And,” I sighed, playing with my necklace, “she’s always there for me. She would never abandon me, like my dad did.”

  My eyes widened as the last words escaped. It was too easy to talk to him. It shouldn’t be that easy. I looked at him, worried and afraid. What would Mr. All-star quarterback think of that? Was I right to think he would keep our conversation to himself?

  His answer quieted my fear. “I can understand that feeling,” he said quietly. “I feel pretty thankful my parents didn’t abandon me like my birth parents did.”

  I stopped walking. “You’re adopted?”

  “I don’t think of it like that,” he said. “They’re my parents. They’re just not biologically mine.” He kicked at the ground then looked at me. “I would appreciate you not telling anyone at school about that. I haven’t told anyone.”

  “I won’t say anything,” I said.

  “I believe you.”

  “Did you ever meet your birth parents?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied. “Never.”

  “Sorry…”

  “Your dad walked out?” he asked back.

  “I thought everyone here would know about that,” I said with a reluctant grin. How could he not know?

  “I know what everyone else has said, but I don’t actually know the truth.”

  He had turned to face me, his arms crossed. I was pleased I could quite literally stand up to him. He was taller than me, but only by a little bit.

  “How people interpret the truth and the actual truth are two different things,” I agreed. I drew in a heavy breath then told him. “My dad left before I was born. Ellen was eight months pregnant.”

  “Has he ever contacted you?”

  “No. And I don’t want him to.”

  “You don’t mean that.” He sounded sure.

  “Yes, I do. Ellen is all the family I’ve ever needed. She’s there for me in all the ways that matter, you know?”

  He gave me another funny smile. “Yes, I do know.”

  We started walking again. But the feeling between us had changed. We were confidants, sharers of each other’s secrets. We were bound together by what we had divulged. I had learned something I hadn’t expected about him, but my curiosity still wasn’t sated. There was so much more I wanted to know.

  “What are you really doing here if you aren’t stalking me?” A thought occurred. “Wait…I thought you were out of town?”

  “Now I know you’ve been checking up on me.”

  I made a face and he laughed, filling the deserted back streets with sound. “Which question would you prefer me to answer? The woods one, the stalking one, or the out of town one?” he asked.

  “Can’t you answer all of them?”

  “Nope.”

  I contemplated my question of choice. “The woods one.”

  He stopped walking and crossed his arms again. His foot made a staccato beat on the concrete. “There’s been an animal out in the woods recently. It killed a couple of bears. A Forest Ranger friend told me.”

  “There’s something out there capable of killing bears?”

  “Yes. So, imagine how you would fare if you went wandering around.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Where are we going, by the way?” he asked. He started to walk again, very obviously changing the subject.

  “I need to give your jacket back to you. I had it at school on Tuesday, but you didn’t show up.” I waited expectantly.

  He laughed. “Nope. Sorry. You’re not getting anything else.”

  “That’s not very fair.”

  “Life’s not fair.”

  I agreed with him, but didn’t let it show. “Fine. Then you’re not getting anything else from me either.”

  “Fine.”

  I clamped my lips together resolutely at his words. There was no way I would speak first. I would win this little contest of wills. Just like our tennis game, I was determined to show him I could do it better. It was silly but irrevocably my personality.

  In absolute silence, we crossed over to Main Street, avoiding the Friday traffic, and the kids cruising around in their cars. The thoughts I should have been hearing were quie
t as we walked, mimicking our last walk together. There was just a warm wall of dark of silence. I had missed that silence.

  When we got to the first small road leading towards my house Daniel caved in. I saw him glance at me, his amused smile transforming into a question. “Clare, remember when I said that you’re not getting anything else from me?” he asked seriously.

  “Of course, I remember. That was like two seconds ago.”

  “Well, I take it back.”

  “You just figured out I could be silent longer than you,” I said.

  “Maybe. Or, maybe I figure the only way I can ask you questions is if I let you ask me some in return.”

  “Well, I do have a question,” I said.

  “Just one?”

  “No... Are you lonely?” I asked before I thought about it.

  He stopped midstride, as abruptly as a person walking into a wall. From the expression on his face, I knew I had said something wrong. He didn’t give me the chance to speak. “You’re wondering why I want to be around you when I have a bunch of people at school I can hang out with. You think I have to be lonely to want to talk to you outside of school. You don’t have enough confidence in yourself to see that maybe you would be an interesting friend to have, and that, maybe, I’m not interested in hanging out with people so generic they make me ill.”

  I crossed my arms defensively. I hadn’t asked for the reasons he had given, but now that he had brought it up…

  “I have plenty of confidence in myself. I just don’t feel that same level of confidence in others. I’ve seen how judgmental people can be, I’ve seen how they view me, I’ve seen the kind of hidden agendas they carry around with them, and that makes it hard for me to think that, after meeting me twice, you would want to be my friend without wanting something from me.”

  “What about Alex?” he demanded, taking a step closer to me.

  “What about her?”

  “You’ve obviously taken to her as a friend, why should I be any different?”

  I thrust my jaw out pugnaciously, knowing the answer to that, but not able to admit it to him. It was because I could read her thoughts. I didn’t have that same advantage with him. It made me uneasy…for several reasons.

  “It’s just different!”

  “Because I’m a man?”

  “Because you’re as uniform as the rest!” I said hatefully. He had cornered me and I resented him for it.

  He looked up at me through his eyelashes, his irises turning completely black again. I swallowed hard, but kept my ground. His scary looks wouldn’t intimidate me.

  “You should try getting to know me before you make those kinds of decisions,” he warned coldly. “And you shouldn’t judge people. It’s a sign of sloppy thinking.”

  “I don’t judge people!” I exclaimed, my indignation overriding my fear and the oddness of the moment.

  “You’re doing a mighty fine impression of it!”

  We stared at each other in mutual anger, both of us unrelenting. My stubbornness didn’t last long. I thought about everything he had just said, trying to work past the burning emotion. Guilt started to rise to the surface. Deep down, I knew I was scared to trust him; scared because I was attracted to him in ways I’d never really been attracted to someone before. I could only see that leading me to pain and regret. I was scared because I was used to erecting barriers, not tearing them down. And, I was upset at how easily I saw him tearing those barriers down. My anger, a defensive reflex, had me putting blame on him. But I knew better. Surely, I wasn’t that infantile.

  “I’m sorry,” I said finally.

  He snorted in disbelief, though his eyes returned to green. I decided to be honest with him, knowing it would expose more of my soul to him. I wanted him to understand, though. It felt important.

  “I am! I didn’t mean to judge you, it’s just, well, you’re right. I’m not used to people being this interested in my friendship. I’ve always been the island and the rock. I’m not used to letting other people be a rock as well. Letting them be the water that flows around me is more my thing.”

  “That was sort of poetic in a, ‘you need some help,’ way,” he said, his angry face melting into a boyish grin. He turned away and started walking, forgiving me easily. I hurried to catch up, feeling glad he wasn’t holding a grudge. “And to answer your question, I feel totally and completely alone. Every single day is a fight against that loneliness. Even around my family…it’s there.”

  There was something familiar about his words, familiar because I felt the same way. I felt my opinion of him shift.

  “Well then, I think we should be friends,” I said.

  He started laughing. “I thought it first, remember that.”

  “Yes, but I said it first.”

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  I hadn’t realized we had made it to the front door. I blinked and looked back at my porch I didn’t remember crossing. “What are you, a vampire?” I asked dryly.

  The memory of his black eyes flashed in front of my eyes.

  “Come again?” he asked.

  “Vampires have to be invited in to your…. never mind,” I trailed off not wanting to give away mine and Ellen’s horror novel addiction.

  “I won’t come inside unless you’d like me to. A gentleman waits for an invitation.”

  I dug the key out from under the mat and opened the door, gesturing grandly for him to enter. “After you, sir.”

  “Thanks.” Daniel crossed the threshold, and, when the earth didn’t collapse, I shut the door behind us. “Can I ask you a question, then?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Did that hurt?”

  He turned and pointed at my nose ring. I laughed at his randomness.

  “Not nearly as bad as the tattoos did.”

  “You have a tattoo? Wait…tattoos in the plural?” He followed me, walking right on my heels as I made my way to the kitchen. “Seriously, do you have one? Where?”

  I shrugged and didn’t answer, enjoying the fascination in his eyes as I turned around. “I’ll get your jacket. Wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  I took the stairs two at a time, almost jogged down the hall, and took the second set of stairs in three leaps. I picked the jacket off the window seat and shook it out, hoping it didn’t look like I’d used it for a blanket the entire week. I was about to turn away from the window, the jacket over my arm, when I noticed a slight movement in the trees. I set the jacket down, my curiosity too much, and put my knees on the cushion, so I could see more of the forest. There was another flash of color, and I realized I was witnessing something running through the trees – something black and insanely large.

  The hair on my arms and neck rose in alarm. The shape disappeared, but it left me with a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was just an animal, I told myself firmly, trying to calm my racing heart. It was just a deer. Only it was way too large to be any animal I’d ever encountered. They didn’t have polar bears in these parts did they? Big, black, randomly fast polar bears…I set my feet on the hard floor and ran down the stairs, not wanting to keep Daniel waiting. But the woods, particularly with Daniel’s warning, were starting to freak me out.

  When I got back to the kitchen, he was next to the stove casually leaning against the counter as if he had not only built the counters, but had handpicked the materials that went in to building them. He looked at me solemnly as I appeared in the doorway, his face a study in innocent detachment. I gave him a suspicious look, feeling I had just walked in on him doing something bad. The memory of the animal faded from my mind at the sight of him, though the goose bumps lingered.

  “What?” I asked suspiciously.

  He blinked once, his face maintaining his study in innocence. “What?”

  “You’re up to something.”

  “Me?”

  I held out the jacket for him to take. He took it slowly, and I noticed he was being careful about not touching my hand, or any
other part of my skin. Maybe he thought my weirdness was catching? Or was it for another reason? We stared at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence first.

  He finally relented, seeing my obtuseness. “All right, I was looking though this, which I thought you might not like.”

  He reached behind him without looking. With one long finger, he dragged around the small flowery book I kept by the stove at all times. It was mostly filled with cooking ideas and recipes I wanted to try out on Ellen, but it also had song lyrics, random ideas and poorly written poems. It was the closest thing to a journal I kept. I felt the blood rush to my face. I grabbed it off the counter and cradled it to my chest protectively. “This is private!”

  “I had to run down a street naked once,” he said quickly.

  “What does that have to do with anything?!”

  “I thought you might forgive me for looking if you knew something embarrassing about me.”

  “It’s only embarrassing if you were embarrassed,” I said.

  What could he have to be embarrassed about? I looked him over again, the heat in my face intensifying.

  “I had to run past a nunnery, and the nuns just happened to be walking to the local school for a fundraiser. They saw everything God gave me, so yes, I was embarrassed. I couldn’t walk down that street for years without feeling ashamed.”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Then I forgive you.” I said.

  He grinned, and I started laughing at the expression on his face. He joined in, and our laughs somehow merged into a seamless harmony that was as beautiful as it was daunting.

  “I think I should go,” he said as our laughter trailed away.

  “Oh…Okay.”

  I didn’t want him to leave. For once, I wasn’t lost in my head worrying about a million things or being drowned by other people’s thoughts. It felt normal. I didn’t have to be alone to feel like I wasn’t a freak of nature.

  I didn’t want him to leave for another reason. He made me feel good. I could argue and laugh with him in the same breath. I’d never known someone I could do that with. It was something that fit my personality perfectly.

  “I promised to help a friend with her new toy today,” he said quickly, his eyes locked on my face.

  Could he see the disappointment on my face? I fixed my expression. “Toy?” I asked.

  “She just got a motorcycle. I promised to help her make it even more of a monster on the road.”

  She?

  “You know how to work on cars?” I asked rather than ask about the mysterious “she.”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “My parents encouraged me from a young age to look at why and how things run. It’s carried over into a lot of things, including cars.”

  “Do you think you could show me some things?” I asked hopefully. “Our car is always breaking down, and it’d be nice to not have to take it to a repair shop all the time. It can get kind of expensive, and if I knew how to fix it...”

  He gave me a funny look.

  “What?” I asked.

  “The way you talk, it’s like you’re the parent.”

  “I feel like it sometimes. Ellen is wonderful, but she’s impossibly flighty, irresponsible, and forgetful.” I gave a small laugh. “She hasn’t even learned to turn the stove on yet, and we’ve been here a week. But… I look after her. It’s what I do best.”

  He stepped into my space. “You shouldn’t have to do all the looking after. It’s not fair.”

  I swallowed heavily at the seriousness of his tone, wondering what he meant. He changed topics, but his intensity didn’t waver, mainly because he was still so close. “And anytime you want to learn about cars, I’d be willing to show you.”

  “What about this weekend?” I asked it quickly, before I lost the nerve.

  “That sounds fine. Tomorrow. I’ll come by around eleven.” He stepped past me and into the hallway, brushing my shoulder with his. “Bye,” he called as he disappeared through the front door.

  “Bye,” I called back, knowing he couldn’t hear me.

  I took a deep breath. Then, for absolutely no reason at all, I started laughing. It was like I’d been bottling up all my emotions, the good feelings that he inspired, to celebrate when no one was around. I sat down at the round breakfast table, clutching my recipe book, laughing to an empty room as the light streamed in through the many windows, illuminating my face.

  When Ellen came home, I wasn’t sure if it had been ten minutes or ten years, but I knew I’d been changed.

  Chapter 6