As I drove, I noticed that only a few leaves had changed. It was the second week of September, and this beautiful weather wasn’t going to last long.
I arrived at my school, Hamilton High, a large dull-gray stone building that slightly resembled a prison. Considering my last school, I was okay with its appearance.
Parking in the student parking lot wasn’t always easy, since I was usually late. I was often left with the spot furthest from the entrance, and today was no different.
Rushing to the front doors, I noticed my mom’s car, a candy-red convertible. It was her gift to herself after she turned forty. She worked here, unfortunately, as the vice principal. It’s not as bad as it sounds, having a mother that works at your school. With a building this size, I didn’t see her that often. This was my last year of high school anyway. In the fall, I was heading to NYU for their teaching program; I was going to become a music teacher. I had been playing the piano since I was five. My mother’s dream for me was to follow in her footsteps and become a teacher, so I thought combining our dreams was a good compromise.
I was running from my locker, after having put my bag inside, when the bell rang. Crap. I was late again. I’m not good with mornings, so this happens every so often.
Just as I turned the corner heading to my first period English class, I slammed into someone. Our sneakers squeaked against the white tile as we collided. A pile of books fell to the floor in a heap.
I bent down to pick them up. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, but the words were barely out of my mouth before the person took off down the hall.
It was a guy, and he had picked up his books so fast, I didn’t even see his face. All I noticed was the back of his head as I watched him run off. His hair was shaggy and brown, and he was quite a bit taller than my five foot five. The gray sweatshirt and jeans he wore weren’t helpful at identifying him either, since a lot of kids in school dressed that way.
“Miss Samson, is there a reason you’re loitering in the hallway when class is starting?”
Turning toward the voice, I saw Mr. Henderson standing in front of his classroom. He was short and stout with a receding hair line that made his forehead look gigantic. And since his glasses always fell to the bridge of his nose, no matter how many times he pushed them back, a few kids made fun of him. I, however, would never do such a thing.
“You wouldn’t want me to report you to your mother, would you?” he said in a snarly tone.
“I’m going,” I mumbled as I took off in the direction of my first class.
I wasn’t that late. The kids were just getting settled, opening their books and getting out their pens, when I snuck into my seat.
“You’re late,” Derrick, one of my best friends, whispered from behind me. Miss Reynolds, our English teacher, was just starting her lesson and didn’t notice him talking. “We’re meeting Emma outside today for lunch,” he whispered again. I nodded my head, focusing on the rest of the lesson.
My next class was my favorite, music, and part of the reason I liked it so much was the teacher, Miss. Fitzgerald. She had long auburn hair that was always pulled back in a braid, and she constantly wore long flowing skirts with peasant blouses. I once heard Mr. Henderson call her a Bohemian.
For the last week we had been studying a piece she composed. It was complex and challenging to learn; luckily, I loved a challenge. I was to play the piano for the piece and was excited for the night we would get to perform for the school and our parents. We were working on our own today, each of us learning our parts.
I was lost in the music when Miss Fitzgerald came over and stood beside me. My fingers stilled as I glanced up at her. “Wonderful, Sarah, you're doing great. I can’t wait to hear the whole piece. Julliard will be lucky to have you,” she said, smiling. Her arms were crossed in front of her as she leaned on the edge of the piano.
“Thank you, Miss Fitzgerald. But I doubt I’ll get a job there after college.”
“Sarah, you could be a concert pianist, and yet you choose to teach. They should welcome you with open arms.”
I blushed, unable to hide my excitement at her words, even though I couldn’t get my hopes up. I had always wanted to teach there, but I knew it was a difficult position to acquire. I would just have to wait and see.
Her words put me in a good mood, and after class was over, I headed to my locker, humming the tune I had been playing.
I had to ditch my books and get my lunch. As I fumbled with my locker door, my arms loaded with books, a blue spiral notebook slipped out of my fingers and landed on the floor with a thump.
I bent down to pick it up and realized it wasn’t my name scrawled on the front, it was Lucas Tate’s. His loopy handwriting was barely legible. Why did I have his book? I shoved it into my locker and ran outside to meet my friends; I’d figure it out later.
They were at one of the far picnic tables. Since it was still warm outside, a lot of the tables that were placed throughout the schoolyard were occupied with other students that wanted to enjoy the sunshine.
I strolled toward them, in no hurry, enjoying the heat of the sun on my face and the scent of grass as the janitor chugged along the football field on his riding lawn mower. The low purr of his motor, mixed with the temperature, made it feel like springtime. But we weren’t so lucky; it was only a matter of time before the air would turn cold. “Hey, guys” I said, sitting down next to Emma.
Derrick was on the other side, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been staring into each other’s eyes. They both had a huge crush on each other, but neither of them would admit it. The only reason I could think of for them to hold back their feelings was that we all had been best friends forever. Whether that was the reason or not, I had no idea.
“I heard you were late again,” Emma mumbled, her mouth full of ham sandwich.
I opened my lunch, taking out the pepperoni and cheese sandwich, saving the apple and caramel snack cake for later. “I wasn’t that late, and besides, it wasn’t my fault. I bumped into someone and had to pick up my books.” I didn’t mention that I was running late before that happened.
Derrick opened his mouth to speak, except I wasn’t listening. I just realized why I had Lucas’ book. It was him that I bumped into. That explained the fast departure.
Lucas Tate was his twin brother. And by his, I mean Logan Tate, the most popular guy in school, although nobody could figure out why. He was kind of a jerk, but got away with it because of his looks. He was the type of guy you could stare at all day, but hoped wouldn’t speak. He was also the boy who starred in my dream last night.
Emma waved her hand in front of my face. “What are you thinking about?”
Snapping out of my own thoughts, I looked over at her. “I just figured out who it was I bumped into this morning.”
Derrick glanced at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, you just figured it out? How could you not know, were your eyes closed?” He smirked at his own joke.
I blinked at him. “Ah…no, but he ran off before I saw who it was. When I was putting my books away, I realized I had an extra one, with Lucas Tate’s name on it.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Well, that explains it.” She looked away from us as Martin Macpherson, star quarterback and the object of my six-month-long crush in tenth grade, rushed by, chasing after a fellow team member, Rudy Myer, who cradled a football. She gave me a knowing glance as my cheeks heated from habit more than actual interest, and then continued. “He never talks to anyone.”
She was right. Lucas was Logan’s twin brother, but they were nothing alike. Logan loved to be the center of attention while Lucas went out of his way to avoid it. The only people I ever saw him with were his two best friends, Andy Taylor and Kyle Roberts. They were good guys. I had a few classes with them, and we’ve talked some.
Lucas was different in another way from his brother. He wore glasses and kept his coffee-colored hair long, almost reaching his shoulders, as if he didn’t care what it
looked like. Logan’s was always cut short and styled to perfection, and he always dressed in the latest styles. Lucas, however, wore sweatshirts and jeans almost every day.
I was deep in thought when I heard Derrick’s voice. “What is wrong with girls in this school?”
“What are you talking about?” Emma asked, tossing back her long red curls and batting her thick lashes over her olive-green eyes. Why didn’t Derrick see when she was flirting?
“Look at Allison Morey over there flirting with Logan. He treats people like crap, and stupid girls like her still hang all over him, just because he’s a pretty boy.” He shook his head. “I just don’t get it.”
While he was ranting, I glanced over to where Logan was sitting with his friends, and sure enough, there were a few girls flaunting themselves at him.
“Don’t ask us, you don’t see me or Sarah over there, do you?” Emma defended us as girls who went to this school. I really couldn’t tell them that I was dreaming about him after this. It was true what they were saying, and I was not interested in Logan at all. Well, only to look at maybe. But why would I dream about him?
“Oh my God, Sarah. I forgot to tell you.” Her green eyes were alight with excitement. “Guess who I saw this weekend when I was shopping in Langton with my mom.”
I stared at her, my mind blank. I had no idea who it could be. “The president?”
She chuckled, waving her sandwich at me. “No, dummy. Stephanie.”
Just the sound of her name gave me the chills. “Lucky you.” I grinned, thinking about the last time I saw her at the beach. My brown hair was still short after my unwanted cut, but styled in a cute spiky bob. My friends and I were enjoying a day of sun. Her mouth popped open in shock when she noticed me. Derrick, who knew about what had happened, draped his arm around me and whispered in my ear as though we were a couple. Of course we weren’t—he was my best friend—but she didn’t have to know that. A few of his buddies were also there, dressed only in swimsuits, showing off their tanned muscular bodies.
To her, it looked like I was surrounded by three hunky guys all vying for my attention. So I wasn’t surprised that she stared at me coldly, shooting daggers in my direction. I just smiled and waved at her, making her so angry, she stomped off the beach with her puppets following her.
“Who’s Stephanie?” Derrick asked, but before I answered, his eyes widened. “Isn’t she that witch who cut your hair?”
Since he caught me with my mouth full, I just nodded.
“You really need to get back at her.” He shook his head, staring down at his soda can.
I swallowed. “Why, she’s a spoiled rich snob. I don’t care what she thinks.” I took a sip of my drink. “Besides, wouldn’t that be stooping to her level?”
“Who cares, she deserves it,” he shot back at me. Emma and I exchanged glances as he creased his brows in thought. “You know what you should do?”
I chuckled, never having seen this side of him before. “What?” I asked.
“Dye her hair green or her skin blue. Hell, a little hair removal in her shampoo bottle would do her some good.”
Who knew he could be so vindictive, and utterly girlish? All that was missing from his suggestions was hair pulling. I raised an eyebrow instead of answering. He shrugged. “So I watch too many cheesy chick flicks, it’s your fault.”
Emma laughed at him then turned to me. “So Sarah, what are you going to do about Lucas’ book?”
Derrick glanced at her and answered for me. “What’s the big deal, just go up and tell him that you have it. He’s sitting right over there.” He gestured with his hand. I looked over to where he pointed. Lucas was sitting with Andy and Kyle two tables away. I hoped he hadn’t heard us talking about him.
Emma was glaring at Derrick like he’d lost his mind. “She can’t just go over there, he won’t talk to her.”
“What’s the big deal?” he asked again, shrugging his shoulders.
“You are such a guy.” She tossed the crust from her bread down on the table. Emma was the only seventeen-year-old I knew who still didn’t eat the crust on her sandwich.
I decided to interrupt them. “Oh my God, it’s not a big deal, I’m going.” They could bicker back and forth for hours if I let them. I just wished they’d finally kiss and get it over with.
I stood up and headed over to where Lucas and his friends were sitting. I could feel Emma and Derrick’s gazes on my back.
As I approached their table, Kyle and Andy smiled and nodded to me. Andy asked if I was finished with my homework for our chemistry class, and I said yes. While we were talking, Lucas never looked up from the paperback he was reading. “Lucas?” I couldn’t keep the slight tremble out of my voice. Nothing; he still didn’t look up. “Lucas!” I said a little louder.
Andy and Kyle just shrugged. “Dude!” Andy smacked Lucas’ shoulder.
He finally glanced up at me, his glasses falling forward a bit. He pushed them back then glared at me with his deep hazel eyes. He was quite good-looking when you were close enough to notice. He was tanned, and his long brown hair suited him, giving him a rugged look. He had a strong jaw, and a sprinkle of freckles along the bridge of his nose.
“What?” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
I was a little flustered at his annoyed expression. “Um…I don’t know if you know me? My name is Sarah”
“I know who you are,” he interrupted.
“Well, you dropped your book when I bumped into you this morning. I didn’t bring it with me, but if you want to meet me at my locker, I can give it to you.”
He looked at me like I was speaking a different language. “Why don’t you just bring it with you to history next period, and give it to me there.”
I was shocked. “You’re in my history class?”
Now he looked even more annoyed. “I sit behind you in the back corner, and you probably didn’t notice me because you’re always talking to Emma.”
I felt a twinge of guilt, but it was quickly replaced by irritation. Why would it matter to him if I always talked to Emma? To my knowledge, he didn’t even know I existed before today. “Fine, I’ll do that.” My voice was cold, but I didn’t care.
I nodded to the other guys and walked back to our table. “You were right. I shouldn’t have gone over there. He’s weird.” I told them what happened.
As I knew she would, Emma gloated with an “I told you so.”
Table of Contents
Copyright
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Books by Ashley Stoyanoff
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
An Excerpt from Book One in the Affinity Series by Christina Smith
Ashley Stoyanoff, Soul's Mark 02 - Hunted
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