Prologue

 

Avery looked at her, pain written on his face. He wasn't sure what to say. His thoughts weren't something she could just seek out, like all the other dull, predictable residents of Wickerville, population one-thousand-and-ninety-seven. Avery, glancing at the ground, sighed.

Make that one-thousand-and-ninety-six.

"You're leaving," she asked hoarsely, her voice cracking with emotion. He can't be serious, she reminded herself. He wouldn't survive in their world. He needs Others, like Grandma and- 

"Vienna, I can handle living like a normal guy!"

Anger flashed in her brilliant green eyes. Her brows bunched in frustration, Vienna scowled. "I told you not to read my thoughts."

Avery chuckled and rolled his eyes. His disheveled, dark hair fell into his eyes, which were a color no one could really place. Vienna knew those dark, unfathomable eyes were trained on her, and yet she didn't shy away when he touched her arm. 

"I have to find my biological parents, Anna. I-I... I could find what's wrong with us," he insisted, that silver sliver of hope in his voice blossoming like the stages of the moon until the idea was a large full moon, orbiting around in his head on repeat. 

"Nothing is wrong with us," Vienna shot back, the thought repulsing her. She knew Others like herself, like Avery and her grandmother. She was normal; they were normal. Why would he want to ruin that, by searching for his parents who had a habit of not staying dead?

Avery chuckled, a sour one that made her mouth go bone-dry and taste like pennies. She felt her face blush, in embarrassment. He was laughing at her; everyone laughed at her. Anger fueled her arms as she pushed him away, twisting out of his light grip. The smug smile on his lips twitched, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, he turned towards the front door of his house. His adopted parent's house, not his own, Avery reminded himself. He almost wasn't bothered by the fact Vienna was peeping into his thoughts. He could feel her, a warm heat in the back of his head that felt like sunshine on your skin. 

The green painted porch creaked under his weight, the muscles that were solidifying under the t-shirt which stretched across his broadening shoulders. The door was yellow. His adopted parents had told him it was the color of knowledge, although now, at fifteen, he was thinking it looked more and more like an eyesore. The purple siding was for sanctity; the white shutters and window panes purity and healing. How had I not realized I was adopted before, he wondered, thinking of how strange his parents were. 

 "Avery," Vienna tried again, her cool, slender fingers wrapping around his wrist, her voice dripping with heart break. "Avery, there is nothing wrong with us."

Vienna was naive. She believed by hidng, masquerading under her geeky glasses and braces and cheerleading try-outs, she would be normal. She believed by being a bystander, hearing the disturbing thoughts that swam through serial killer's heads and Mr. Wells plans to cheat on his wife and Marci Darwin's pathetic attempts at being selfless, she would be accepted. She was very, very wrong.

Avery couldn't even turn to face her, in fear of breaking down like a baby and admitting he was terrified. Instead, he curled a fist and steeled himself. 

If you leave, she thought, her voice ringing loudly against his skull, I will hate you.

"Be good, Anna," Avery managed through the basketball-sized lump that had formed in his throat as his fingers wound around the doorknob. The thought was the last thing he wanted her to remember him by, in case it wasn't true, in case he couldn't be back. 

I love you. I won't be gone forever.

Beauty

 

I think I love this girl.

Me being 'this girl', a ripple of joy shot down my spine. Jake Thorton, the boy unhumanly close to the vanity of perfection, couldn't have thought it any better. My head rested on his rock-solid shoulder, giving me the perfect view of his stubbled, strong jaw and high cheek bones. Pools of chocolate looked down at me in admiration, something some might say I manipulated. I couldn't help but kiss the mole on the lining of his jaw, feeling very... erotic. 

If I said it, would she freak out?

The sun was setting just before us, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the beauty that was Jake. Despite how he pointed out the Wickerville water tower, or the faint outline of the high school, my eyes stayed unnaturally trained on him. The shell of his car, the hood painted cherry cheery red, was cool under our spooning bodies. Everything was perfect. 

My long blond hair fell down my shoulders as I shifted, dangling in my eyes before Jake pushed the pesky strands back behind my ear. Who would have thought, almost three years ago, I had braces and black, thickly-rimmed glasses. Who would have thought, three years ago, I'd be cuddling with hottie Jake Thorton on the hood of his red Mustang and hearing him rave about me. I was like Ritalin to this kid, appearantly. The thought was sweet enough to give me a cavity.

 I love you, Vee. Vee, baby, I'm crazy about you... Jeez, Vienna, I love you so much it hurts. His thoughts penetrated my own, making it hard to think straight. He didn't know I could hear him, which only made his practicing more adorable and sweet. 

"Jake," I whispered, tearing my eyes away to look at the pink sky, laced with white puffs of stringy clouds, "I don't want this night to end."

Say it now, he thought, panic thick in his deep voice. 

"Me neither... babe," he smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. Even though it wasn't the answer I was hoping for, I still smiled smugly into his shoulder. Life was too good now. 

"And you're too perfect. I mean, the sunset is beautiful, and... and thank you. I love you," I grinned, deciding to push the envelope and hope for the best. Before I was forced to listen to his moronic stutter, I placed a small kiss on his lips, in hope of silencing him. His thoughts were sweet; his sometimes stupid words could be like swallowing push-pins.

She loves me! And she saved me a shit-ton of mumbling. I swear, I will marry this girl someday.

"Vienna, isn't it the guys job to say that," he joked between slow kisses, his whispers hot against my lips. I smiled despite myself and broke away to look in those chocolate eyes. 

"It seemed like I saved you a bunch of stuttering," I insisted, noting the look of bewilderment and humor in his eyes. 

"I swear, it's like you can read my mind," he chuckled. I smiled, despite the bittersweet feeling rooted in my stomach. Jake Thorton had no idea.

 ~~~

The screen door shut behind me, with a creak, and I slipped my heels off in hopes of silencing my steps. On the tips of my toes, I walked with my shoulders hunched and knees high, like in the old, silly black and white movies Grandmother would make me watch with her on lazy, hot summer afternoons while sipping iced tea. The floorboards were dusty and dull underneath the lining of my tan stockings, which I slipped down to my ankles in discomfort. 

I crossed the main hall, a room filled with ceramic chickens and cat cookoo clocks. The loud tick-tick-tick rang through the empty room, the ugly clock hanging from the floral wall-papered, dark green wall. The stupid thing  earnestly exsisted to mock me, it seemed, because just when I had safely crossed the room incognito, the dumb cats began crying out. Normally, they sounded like meowing kittens; in the middle of the night, while trying to sneak in, they sounded like the shrill, angry warning cries of feral attack cats.

Shit, I thouught, just when the light in the living room flickered on. I cringed, and craned my neck to see the outline of her body, frail in the oversized, overstuffed love seat. 

Get in here, Vienna Nicole. We are going to have a very long talk.

I sighed, and rolled my eyes. This is stupid, I thought, more to myself but unable to shield my thoughts. I was just with Jake, and all we did was talk. It's not like I told him I could-

"Vienna," she said again, this time using her words. My stomach clenched, but I steeled myself for the worst and took tentative steps towards the doorway. So close, I thought, pushing the wall of hanging beads aside and letting the cool, round orbs fall from my fingers half-heartedly. 

"Hey, Grandma... what're you doing up so late," I asked, a nervous chuckle building in my voice, pulling at the volume like the tides. She didn't turn to face, which made me feel even worse. Her white-tufted, wrinkled head was pointed towards the TV, even though it wasn't on. She looked like a golden, little old raisin. If only she was as harmless.

"Where did the two of you go," she asked in a cool as ice voice that made my attempts seem silly and vapid. I ran my fingers through my hair and exhaled, finding myself a seat in one of the plush, velvety-soft armchairs that were older than Grandmother herself. 

"Just to the edge of Wickerville. We just... talked," I insisted, thinking back to the many kissing breaks we had taken in between. My cheeks flared wiith embarrassment, knowing she could see every little thing, every little touch. 

"Right. Talked....," she chuckled, although it was less in humor and more in a 'you're going to turn out just like your mother' kind of tone.

"I didn't tell him," I said, although I really doubted she believed me. A rough, almost painful snorting sound came from her small body, which was enough confirmation for me. 

"Do you realize how some silly high school romance could ruin everything for us, Vienna? If he ever found out, if you ever breathed a word to him, our lives would be erased from Wickerville, and we would have to relocate. I know you think he'll still love you-"

I was, although not yet willing to admit that with her analyzing every one of my thoughts. 

"-but we can't afford to be selfish. I have to look at the whole picture, not just your's."

"Why shouldn't we tell people," I asked, in a desperate attempt to keep Jake out of my mind. Just the thought of telling him, of him finding out, made me feel sick to my stomach. 

Anger flashed in her hazy, hazel, watery eyes; this fight was just the tip of the iceberg for the two of us. Grandmother and I clashed regurlarly, and although half the time it was about how I wore my clothes or skipping out on a chore or two, many were because of our... differences. 

Grandmother was stuck in the past, although which decade I wasn't exactly sure. The living room was proof enough: an old, clunky TV which only played in black and white; floral couches and plushy armchairs that looked like they migh have survived the Titanic; big, white china plates hanging from the walls, gleaming in the dull light of the old, rustic chandelier that hung from the cieling. The dark green, plastered walls were covered with everything from those silly china plates to old records from Grandmother's childhood to ancient oil paintings of long-gone relatives with handlebar mustaches and double chins. 

Although crosses hung from almost every wall surface, I still found little chicken bones and gris gris tucked into drawers to ward off evil spirits. Incense always burned, too, which was thick and clung to the fabric of the chairs and coats and drapes.

"Vienna, we have had this discussion before. They would treat us differently, like they should. We aren't like the humans-"

"There is nothing wrong with us! Jesus, you sound just like him," I cried, angrily jumping from my chair and narrowing my eyes. The words slipped from my mouth, much to my dismay, the guilt washing over me before I had even finished the blurted thought. 

Her eyes went downcast, like a child being scolded. I watched in horror and shame as she proceeded to get out of her chair, although the action was slowed. Her limbs moved like they were in a tub of molasses, slow and diliberate, yet shaky. 

"Grandmother-"

"You're going to end up just like her. Remember that, Vienna," she said, as she stood and turned to leave. The light shuffle of her slippers was so loud, in the horrified silence engulfing us. I heard the beads parting, and knew she was already making her way to bed. Alone, I sighed in defeat. Well, that was just peachy.

Bloom

 

I looked into his dark eyes and felt the tug in my chest. Dull, warm, confused tugging. 

"Anna," he whispered, brushing the strands of blond hair out of my eyes, his lips moving against the shell of my ear. His body was close to mine, my fingers curling into his skin in hope of never letting him leave again. Dark hair tickled my neck, the messy mop on his head curling against the nape of his neck, which I earnestly ran my fingers through. 

He was alive. He was back. He was holding me, and my heart was pounding against the walls of my chest in disbelief. 

The swamp water that ate at our sides rippled as my fingers skimmed the top, green mossy algae clinging to my fingers. I was shivering; the water was so cold, despite the muggy heat and cloud of mosquitoes that surrounded us. My lips blue, I stared into those eyes feeling very, very lost. 

"Get away from me. I hate you," I managed through grit teeth, my right cheeks gaining its color once again as his fingers brushed against it. My skin was still grey; my lips still blue. The pink tinge in the apple of my cheek seemed so bright against the rest of my skin. 

"No you don't. You could never hate me," he laughed, placing a kiss on my forehead and letting the color flush back to the flat plane which had become creased in frustration. I would move, to push him away, but my body was immobile. He had utter control of me. 

"I do. You left me," I insisted, shivering as his ghostly touch traveled to my left cheek. His arms wrapped around my middle, pulling me closer to him, filling my body with light. My skin's grey, chalky feel diminished as gold skin dusted onto me, as the water warmed just a bit. 

"No I didn't. I'm saving you," he smiled, oblivious to my anger, which was getting harder and harder to hold onto. I blinked, and suddenly Louisiana swamps and gators and mosquitoes and mangroves were far from my mind. The smell of saltwater invaded my nose. We lived in Louisiana; there was no ocean down the block, at least not in Wickerville. And yet here we were, standing in warm ocean water, waves slapping against our backs. 

Instead of the buzz of mosquitoes, I heard the cawing of seagulls and waves crashing. Where mangroves loomed over us, creating shadow under the blood red, setting sun, was endless grey sky. The change of scenery was the least of my concerns, as I fisted his shirt and felt tears prickle. It's the salt water in your eyes, I told myself.

"I'm alone," I said, my voice cracking, my eyes flickering to his. The slow smile that tugged at his lips was something you saw in movies; something so perfect you'd never be able to forget it. He leaned down close, his thoughts invading my own. Something pressed against the palm of my hand, but before I could see what it was, Avery's lips loomed very, very close to mine. His dark eyes never left my face, never left my own eyes, and a feeling of exaltation rippled through me.

No you're not. I'm back, and I'm not giving up, he thought, right before landing a kiss on my lips and filling me with life. Right before dropping me, and letting the saltwater fill my lungs. Right before I drown.

I woke, gasping for air, the smell of salt water swathing the air and making me feel sick. My skin was damp, from sweat or maybe even sea water, crazy as it sounded. My fingers dug into the palm of my hand, fisting something that was hot in my hands. 

My shaking fingers uncurling, I stared at the smooth, black little pebble in my hand. 

The smell of frying eggs brought me back to reality, the sound of Grandmother calling my name for breakfast, and the pebble fell from my shaking hands in horror. I struggled to sit up, the white linen sheets wrapped tightly around my legs, and felt the shaky feeling in my chest implode. 

Avery was coming back.

The thought made my knees go weak, and a sick feeling to bubble in my stomach. This couldn't be true, could it? 

I was finally normal. I had friends, and an awesome boyfriend, and a spot as a flyer on the cheerleading team. When Avery and I were together... weird things happened. 

"Vienna, get down here soon before your breakfast gets cold," I heard Grandmother call again. I grabbed hold of the rock, still hot in my hand, and gave it a half-hearted squeeze. My fingers worked to untangle the sheets from my legs, and I blew my bangs out of my eyes with a loud exhale. The light filtered through the large window of my bedroom, making the light blue walls seem three shades lighter. 

My colorful, polka-dot sheets finally became a rumpled mess at the foot of my bed, and I climbed out of bed, the long-haired, furry floor rug tickling my toes as I curled them into the carpet. 

I finally decided making an effort sounded draining, and I didn't need any more of that, so I grabbed my favorite pair of faded, boot-cut jeans, cheerleading camp t-shirt, and Jake's varsity lettterman jacket,  and threw my disheveled hair into a messy ponytail. Glancing in the mirror, I flinched. 

Dark bags and purple sags hung under my eyes. Pink veins spun around my irises, making them look pink and bloodshot. My skin was pasty, and I swore I saw a pimple forming. Letting out a strangled cry, I cursed Avery and the nightmare he literally put me through. Shoving on my Converse sneakers, I grabbed my book bag that habitually rested by the doorway, and went downstairs to eat breakfast.

The awkward air was almost as heavy and scent of frying food. On the round oak table by the stain-glass framed, kitchen pass-through, was the familiar plate of eggs, a freshly made biscuit, bacon. The only thing missing were the hashbrowns, sprinkled with red and green peppers. I knew she was still angry, because her hashbrowns were my favorite part of breakfast. 

"Good morning," Grandmother mumbled, although the meaning was lost. So far, my morning had been crap. 

I listened to the sizzle and pop of bacon grease in the pan, standing dumb in the middle of the doorway. Guilt kept me frozen in place, although fear kept me from hugging her. My grandmother was a tough lady, with a back made for carrying bricks, as she always used to say. The southern twang in her voice only seemed to amplify the saying; city girls weren't made to slave by the stove for hours. 

I'm not saying she was heartless by any means. She had taken me in when no one else wanted me. My mother was missing, and I never knew my father, although Grandmother always assured me that was a good thing. A no good rat that boy was, she'd say, taking another gulp of ice tea. He was a con; never up to any good. 

"Well, are you going to hang around there like a rusty nail, or are you going to eat your breakfast," Grandmother snapped, the curlers in her hair bouncing with each headbob. I nodded, my mouth agape with embarrassment and shame, and pulled out the chair set with a plate full of food. 

"Say your grace," she added, before turning back to the stove as a drop of grease landed on her apron. 

Bowing my head, I intertwined my fingers and prayed for Grandmother not to read my thoughts.

Dear God... Sir? His Holiness? I am lost. I don't normally pray-- not that it stops Grandmother from telling me to, although I usually just bowed my head and thanked God for 'the blessed food. Amen'-- so I have a feeling I'm not exactly one of His top priorities. Look, God, could you just... could you just kill Avery Silver? Wait, is it a sin to wish for someone's death? Okay, could you just... I don't know seriously injure him. Give him a bad case of amnesia. Keep him as far from Wickerville, and my normal life, as possible? Okay, thank you God. Oh, and, uh, bless this food. Amen.

Grandmother didn't look at me as she slopped gravy onto my plate, the grey liquid trickling own the side of the buttery, golden brown biscuit. The heat from the sizzling gravy wafted around me, steam emitting in the air. I didn't want to know if she heard my thoughts. Instead, I grabbed hold of my silver fork, my fingers clamping around it so tightly my knuckles turned white, and took a big bite of biscuit and gravy, the roof of my mouth scalding. Despite the tears of pain that had begun watering in my eyes, I didn't dare look up, and instead chewed just a bit faster.

"Vienna Nicole, slow down. I don't need you chokin'," Grandmother snapped, making me swallow the hot lump of food that had almost lodged in my throat. I nodded, finally meeting her gaze, and felt that familiar shame wash over me when her watery hazel eyes met mine.

The blue, terry bathrobe was wrapped around her wiry frame, reminding me of a bird. I wondered if she would sprout feathers and fly away. Her tufts of white hair were white cotton candy; the blue veins that crawled all over her body like ivy were spider webs. She looked so frail, despite the hand that clung to her hip and demanding brow lifted, and helpless.

 "I," she said testily, a snarl bubbling in her voice, "am not helpless."

"I-I... I'm sorry, Grandma. Not just about that," I said quietly, my gaze dropping the suddenly unappetizing plate of Southern breakfast in front of me, "but about last night. I... I should have told you I went out with Jake. I shouldn't have said those disrespectful things to you about...-" I trailed off, even the name making my heart ache. It was two syllables, and yet they made my heart squeeze in my chest and knees go weak.

"He's back, you know," she said, making my stomach turn.

"You know? I mean, yes, ma'am, I know. I... he... I've heard."

She didn't question it and placed the hot skillet on the stove, untying the apron from her neck. She sat down in the chair next to me, the smell of lavendar invading my nostrils despite the heavy oil in the air. She always smelled of lavendar soap, tickling my senses from an early age. The feeling of her warm, soft hands over mine made comfort root itself in my stomach. She smiled softly and squeezed my fingers, making me drop my fork. The frosty edge in her eyes melted before me, like the snow that melts before it hits the ground.

"Are you going to talk to him," she asked, raising a brow in interest. It was weird to think my grandmother wanted to have a girl talk with me, and yet I didn't exactly mind. It was kind of nice, in an awkward way.

"I don't know... Do I have a choice? I mean, he left thinking he'd come back and have a... a cure for us," I said, trying to make sense of it. Cure? Since when were we sick; why would we need a cure?

She simply chuckled and patted my hand lightly. "Vienna, that boy has his heart in the right place. Give him a while. Maybe he'll become a growth on you once again. You two were inseperable at one time-"

I rolled my eyes, and looked at the clock in means of distraction. My grandmother was secretly in love with Avery, I had rationalized long before. She had supported him up until he left Wickerville. Those means of distraction though, proved to be my escape route. I choked down my bacon and took a gulp of milk before pointing at the clock.

"Thanks, Grandma, but I have to get going," I insisted, grabbing hold of my bookbag and car keys, and jumping from my spot. I scrambled out of the creaking floor-boarded, yellow shuttered, old Victorian house faster than my legs would carry me. I desperately needed to get to school; I desperately needded to avoid any more girl-talks with my grandmother. Those girl talks were reserved for True, from now on.

 

Lovely

 

He cheated on me, that bastard! I hate him! That f-

-fat! She looks so fat in that... should I tell her? No, she'd just get pissed. Maybe, I could get Kelsey to-

Ohmygod. Mr. Tanner looks so hot today. I mean, the receding hairline isn't exactly a big deal- I like older men. I wonder if his ass really looks that good bare... maybe after class I could-

Everyone's thoughts swam around in my head, making it hard to hear my best friend over the swarm of voices.

"Shit, girl you look like a zombie hit you with a truck! And what, my little slut-muffin, the eff are you wearing?! Since when are varsity jackets back in season? And why wasn't I informed," True jabbered, nudging my shoulder. Truman Leighton the Third was the only guy who knew me like the back of his hand, who could pinpoint almost every one of my emotions.

I laughed, and nudged him back. The front door to the high school loomed over us, and yet I found myself straining my neck to catch sight of Jake... or so I told myself. I couldn't help but look for that mop of midnight hair in the process.

"Thanks, True, that is such a rager for my self-confidence," I said, sarcasm dripping quite heavily in my voice, weaving in and out of freshman squealers and tongue-tied couples who seemed to be playing a very intense version of oral thumb war, "and I didn't get much sleep."

The cool, late September air breezed by us. True, waggling his blond brows, walked next to me, loyal like a puppy. Since I was dating Jake and had a position on the cheer-tastrophe known as he Wickerville Wolves, people either loved me or hated me. Although the latter applied to many, as I had accidentally peeked into their thoughts, True had latched onto me like a leech during the end of sophomore year, the year Avery had left.

"Ooh," he drawled, his blue eyes widening, his large hands wrapping around my wrist in heavy interest, "what were you and Hottie McCuteness doing all night? Did Mamaw catch you guys-?"

"No," I laughed, fond of True's newest nickname from my boyfriend and grandmother. He had the best, if not gayest, intentions, which always kept me from rudely telling him ice cream and boy-talk wouldn't fix the hellhole that was my life. Giving him a naughty grin, I confided, "We did it in his car. Far from my house."

He clucked his tongue playfully and rolled his eyes. "Whores these days. Vienna Banana, you can't just give the milk out for free. He has to buy the cow first."

"True, did you just call me a heffer," I asked, raising my brows and slapping his arm playfully. Just then, the feel of arms around my middle made me flinch. Fear shot up my spine, and the first thing I thought of was my dream, and the pebble that now lay in the pocket of Jake's jacket. The second thing I thought was of Avery holding me. It never crossed my mind that it was Jake, and I spun around, disappointment and fear and something that made my heart beat madly, and palms moisten, masking my face. I tried to hide it, to smile peppily, but he caught on too quickly.

"Have I told you how hot you look in that jacket," Jake smiled, before loosing the goofy grin and placing a thumb under my chin. Concern rippled on his perfect, strong-boned face and he tightened his grip just a bit. "Hey, Vee, what's wrong?"

"She left her favorite thong in your backseat, babe," True insisted, earning an eye roll from me and an awkwardly too-nice smile from Jake. For some odd and concerning reason, Jake put up with True's pet names, which True mostly said as some sort of fellatial sex invitation. I had heard it in his thoughts plenty of times... unfortunately.

"Thanks, darling," Jake joked back, the Southern drawl in his voice making both True and I weak in the knees. Snapping his attention back to me, Jake held me close to his chest in an awkward hug, as we tried to navigate through the swimming sea of bodies. Lowering his voice to a serious tone, he said to me, giving True a dismissive glance, "Now, Vienna Hale, you're going to tell me what's wrong, or I will tickle it out of you."

A genuine smile cracked the fake-happy mask I had tried to keep on, and I leaned my head into his shoulder. "I think I really did leave my thong in your car," I joked, watching in pleasure as he smiled at me and shook his head.

"You, Vee," he chuckled placing a kiss on my temple, "are a card."

"Hopefully not a Hallmark one," I smiled weakly, secretly loving the thrill as his breath tickled the shell of my ear. I didn't go slightly weak in the knees until he whispered, in my ear, quietly and intimately and too perfectly privately, 'I love you. I never got to say it first the last time, so I'm making up for lost time.'

"I must be a pretty damn nice card," I smiled, smiling as he lands another kiss on my cheek. 

"The best," he reassured me, slipping a hand into my back pocket playfully. I laughed, and did the same to him. True just watched, his thought trickling in and out of my head like radio static.

-so cute. She just better not get pregnant or I will kick her barefoot hillbilly ass-

I had never lost signal of a thought, as weird as the phrase was. No matter how many times I tried to block out someone's thoughts, they always came tumbling back to me, in a flurried rush that made no sense. But suddenly, I was loosing sight of True's thoughts, my head becoming an unbearably new type of silence. I always had someone's thoughts flitting around in my head and yet for a moment, it was silent. Confused, I glanced over at True. He was smiling teasingly, catching my misguided puzzlement as an invitation to shoo away Jake.

"Look, Jake, babe," True sighed, clapping a hand on Jake's shoulder and trying to sound sorry, "Vienna and I need some girl-to-girl time. I promise, I'll return her to you right after lunch. Kay?"

He didn't wait for Jake to say anything, and slapped Jake's butt when he stayed frozen momentarily. "You go, tiger. Make Daddy proud," he cried down the halls as Jake confusedly and hurriedly made his way as far from True as possible. I didn't know whether to duck in embarrassment or laugh when he then wrapped an arm around me. Shooting me a quizzical look, he asked, "Slut muffin, are you okay? You look a lil'... shitty."

I shook my head, and bit my bottom lip. Silence. My head was silent. I couldn't hear his thoughts, or anyone else's for that matter. "No...," I managed, pinching the bridge of my nose before putting on a weak fake smile, "No, I was just wondering how many Daddy Complexities you have, Truman Leighton. And why, in God's name, you are so hell-bent on queerifying my boyfriend."

He just chuckled, and placed a kiss on the top of my head, a flourish of his hands producing a notebook from his backpack. "Oh, you know you love it. It just proves how straight and totally crazy he is about you."

I smiled at that note, right before my insides froze and I caught sight of raven-colored hair out of the corner of my eye. I glanced that way, not even in the subtlest of ways, but felt that excitement and terror and something else diminish in my stomach. No, it was just Penelope Kendall, her dark ponytail bouncing down the hall as she made her way to class.

Calm down, Vienna, I told myself. You're just being paranoid. If Avery were back, he'd be insulting you and making you go crazy this very moment. I really didn't want to admit he was doing the latter, no matter how far away.

Pretty

 

 Lunch was a hodgepodge of noise and chatter. It was full of round bright red tables, and bodies. Lunch trays cluttered tables, and notepads sat on corner edges; the intruments in their case by their seats; the skateboards sat underneath them; the drugs hidden in their pockets. It was full of people, each one's thoughts I had heard before. Until now, when all I heard was myself. And no one else's thoughts.

The silence was eerie, and yet kind of nice. Way too nice. I had never been able to block out someone's thoughts, and yet here I was, acting, seeming, being a normal seventeen year old girl. And that was much sweeter than I thought it would be.

Finally, no more thoughts of the lunch lady's possible ulcer or Mr. Finkle's Viagra perscription needing to be filled. Nope, for once it was me and only me inside my head.

 I plopped down in my normal seat, a much peppier bounce in my step, as everyone noted. True, talking about some guy he met in Rage, the local raggedy dance club, animatedly described everything, from the guy's eye color to the size condom he carried in his pocket. Despite how much I loved my best friend, the conversation killed my appetite.

"-and then he like attacked my zipper, I mean, this kid was-"

"True! C'mon, people are eating," I cried, covering my ears with my hands. He just shrugged and grabbed a potato chip from the bag resting in the middle of the table.

"I don't care," he insisted, spraying bits of chip on purpose. I rolled my eyes and stabbed him with my fork playfully.

"Say it, don't spray it," I chastised, handing him a napkin. He chuckled and wiped the corner of his mouth in cheekiness, shooting me a playful glare. Just then, Jake sat down, his broad shoulders brushing against mine. I smiled at him, and he placed a tiny kiss on my cheek.

"So, kiddies, what were we just talking about," he asked, grabbing the edge of his greasy slice of pizza and taking an inhumanly large bite.

"You don't want to know," I assured him, True making a face at me between bites of tuna salad.

"Unless you're ever interested in joining me, Jake, dear," True added, recieving a glare from me. Jake just laughed good-naturedly, despite the feeling I had that True wasn't joking.

"You're not," I told him flatly, recieving a chuckle from him. He looked so handsome, even with a bit of pizza sauce on the corner of his mouth. His brown eyes met mine, winking at me quickly as his hand rested on my knee, and a quirky crooked smile tugged at his lips.

We're almost there.

The thought made pure, hot, silver panic shoot up my spine. The voice was unfamiliar, and I knew almost everyone's voice. My head snapped behind me, looking around the lunchroom until I saw him. Curly blond hair, the color of sunshine; forest green eyes; plump lips. He stood by the red-painted, cafeteria doube doors. He stared at me, with those magnetic forest eyes.

Quirking a brow at me, the stranger smirked.

You heard me, sweetheart. We're almost there.

You know Avery, I thought, never breaking his steely gaze. A sinister smile replaced the smirk, and he shook his head. My insides trembled with fear at the look that crossed his face- it was too dark, too bad.

Sure. Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. Just don't drown tonight, sweetheart. The twisted smile on his face made a new shade of fear paint my face. Suddenly, he was gone. I blinked, and the dark stranger was out of sight, like a ghost.

~~~

"I swear to God, Karen, if you drop me-"

"Harper, move your foot. It's digging into my collar bone-"

"I'm going to fall!"

"Guys," Casey Thorton cried, making us all look up. Or in my case, standing on top of the pyramaid and trying my hardest not to fall onto the cold hard ground, look down.

Casey was Wickerville High's very own cheerleading Hitler. Instead of an awkward hair part and iconic mustache, though, she adorned the grey and black Wickerville Wolve's cheerleading skirt. She was head cheerleader, or as True called her, Atropos. Like the Greek myth, Casey was infelxible and, like cutting the strings of life, cut people from the team ruthlessly. If it weren't for the fact I was dating her brother, I would have slapped the girl long before.

 My knees began to wobble as Doug and Drake's-- twins who used every oppurtunity to be pervs and creeps-- arms shook under the weight of Hanna Umbridge and me.

"Casey," Drake grunted, his face red with exertion. "Casey, we've been like this for almost ten minutes!"

"Yeah," Doug joined in, his brows furrowing in frustration, puffing out his cheeks as he lifted his right arm, which I was perched upon, just a bit. "I'm tired and hungry."

We had all been starving ourselves when Casey was around. She was a brutal dietitian, shoving salads and protien shakes down our throats. Finally, Casey sighed and waved a dismissive hand. I let out a sigh of relief and crossed my arms over my chest as I fell back into the awaiting cradle.

"Look, Casey," I began, brushing myself off after jumping out of Gina Hendrick's and Lena Franks' arms, and following her as she strut over the bleachers, "maybe we should all take a break. Everyone's tired, and if Drake and Doug don't eat something soon, I'm pretty sure they'll go cannabilistic-"

"Don't tell me how to run my team, Vienna," she spat, narrowing her eyes in my direction. I arched a brow, and rolled my eyes. She honestly had a lot of nerve; she had no idea I knew she had slept with Doug and Drake. Sometimes having the power to read minds was nice.

"I'm just saying, this would be what's best for-"

"Shut up, Vienna! Jesus, I know what I'm doing," she snapped, glaring at me. I bit my tongue, hard, to keep from snapping right back. I studied her, the same blond brown hair and dark eyes as her brother, the look of irritation on her face. I was wondering what she was thinking, which was something I had never really done before.

My ability wasn't back yet, and it had been almost six hours. Sure, it was nice having my head to myself, but I couldn't deny the nagging anxiety that something wasn't right.

Jaw working and clenching, she then turned her back towards me and announced in a loud voice, "Break time, guys! Get something to eat, and we'll start again in ten!"

Just then, the sight of Jake on the horizon lifted my spirits a bit. The sun was setting behind him, and he looked kind of herioc. Well, he was saving me a cat fight with Casey, so in some ways he was my hero. He jogged over, his football uniform clinging to his lean hips and broadened shoulders, large like the Hulk from the pads that were tethered to him tightly. His helmet was in one hand, the other cupping my hip as he held me in a sweaty hug, a smiling Jake greeted Casey with a nod and his signature broad smile.

"Hey, my two favorite girls," he grinned, placing a kiss on my lips quickly. He tasted salty from the sweat. Casey smiled fakely. "Are you two playing nice?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but Casey was too quick. A smug glimmer in her eyes was flashed towards me before she turned toward Jake, a fake grin pasted on her lips.

"Yep. Vienna and I were actually just talking about who you love more," she smiled, suddenly so fake and perky. Ugh, that bitch.

"Yeah," he chuckled, the questioning tone in his voice sounding more and more like doubt when I replayed it over and over in my head. I nodded and leaned into him slightly.

"So, Jake, who do you-," Casey began only to have Jake cut her off quickly, glancing back at the field to see Coach Harding yelling for him to get back to practice.

"Look, Case, I can't drive you home tonight. Get a ride with Tiffany or someone," he said quickly before turning to me and saying, quietly so Casey couldn't hear, "And I am taking you out. I'll pick you up from your house at nine."

I smiled and nodded, and placed a kiss on his cheek before watching him run back into the distance. I did not want to deal with Casey. She seemed to be in mutuality, because she only gave me an eye roll and a snuff before trotting back to the team, back in drill sergeant mode. Rolling my eyes, I sighed. I was in for another hour and a half of this.

~~~

I was sweating, sore, and sour. Casey had been on every one of my back-tucks and bow-and-arrows. With every little twitch of muscle, she'd be on me like grease on fried yucca. My cheer duffle bag, slung on my shoulder, was just another annoying thing dragging me down. Literally. We hadn't finished practice until almost nine, and I had promised Jake to meet him at my house in less than half an hour.

It was oddly cold that night, sending chills down my arms and on the back of my neck. The bright street lamps gave me light, and yet it still felt dark. It was too creepy, walking across the completely empty lot, in the dark, by myself. I practically had a 'Chainsaw Massacre Cheerleader, Right Here!' graffitied on my back.

It wasn't until I made it to my car did I relax. Sure, the crappy twenty year old engine won't be the fastest if a chainsaw murderer does come after me, but at least I had means of transportation. I unlocked my car, the hinges groaning in protest as I swung the back door open, and threw my duffle bag into the backseat. I slipped on my sweatshirt too, the goose bumps on my arm making me shiver. Or, maybe it was the shadow leaning against my car.

I jumped when I saw him. He leaned against the tail of the car, his broad shoulder and lean hips like eclipes in the dim light. I stumbled out of the car, my breathing uneven, staring at Avery Silver in the moonlight.

"Anna, long time no see," he grinned, his white smile breathtaking in more ways than one. He was real, standing before me. I knew, because he was touching my cheek with his rough hand. His rough, right hand, to be exact. I opened my mouth to say something, but instead my words were lost in my throat.

"You missed me, right," he teased, his dark eyes raking up and down my body, an amused smile on his face. I closed my mouth, tellling myself I'd catch flies in there if I kept it open any longer.

"Wh-What're you doing here? I mean, here. A-At the school," I managed, my brow furrowing and my head dizzying. A headache, slight but evident, flared in my brain. I could almost feel my emotions twisting, while looking at him. Old emotions- ones that, even then, were confusing- new anger, and hurt mixed together, and made me feel vulnerable. I hated being vulnerable, as egotistical as it sounded.

"I came to see you, of course," he smiled, this one genuine. Very genuine. I swallowed, and backed away. I could feel him in my head, like a dark cloud hovering in my brain, poking and prodding. I could feel him in my head, like a master puppeteer pulling at the strings, controlling and manipulating.

"Anna, it's not like I'm bending your will or anything," he insisted, real hurt seeping into his voice, his brows furrowing.

Stop. Stop reading my thoughts, I managed, glaring at him from beneath my lashes. His hair was longer, brushing against his shoulders, which were broader. His eyes looked darker, setting underneath heavy brows, which were thick and dark. His skin was creamy Creole, golden and smelling like spices. He had a strong nose, and cheek bones that stuck out slightly. His jaw was strong. Probably strong enough to only bruise when punched.

 "Well, one of us has to do it. And since you've been incapable since first hour, it seems as though-"

"How do you know that," I growled, fear building in my gut. He couldn't have possibly known, unless... unless he had done something. As crazy as it sounded, maybe he had found a cure. Maybe, somehow, he had switched off my powers.

"I was the one who shielded you," he said in a 'duh' tone, rolling his eyes. Arching a brow, I tried to dissect what he was saying.

"How? Wha-... why? How?!"

He chuckled, as though my confusion was charming and adorable, when really I just wanted to sock him, right in that strong jaw that would probably only bruise. He leaned down close, until his breath was on my neck, on the shell of my ear. I, instinctually, thought of our kiss, and felt a blush spread through me.

"Soulmates can do that," he whispered, leaving me angry and annoyed. I had heard that plenty of times before he left, and I knew, if it was even remotely true, he wouldn't have. He would have stayed stuck, with me, until graduation.

"That crap might have worked three years ago," I whispered back, gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, "but I'm not stupid."

"As stupid. Trust me, Anna, you aren't the brightest bulb in the box," he teased, although the joke was lost and his eyes were anything but the feigned confidence he wore like a mask just moments before.

"Go to hell," I spat, pushing him away, backing up against the shell of my car. A light wind whipped around us quickly, making me shiver against my jacket.

An emotion had finally won the inner tug of war that was going on in my head and heart: anger. I wanted to hit him, badly; I also wanted to hug him, and thank whatever holy power that had brought him home.

"I'm here, aren't I," he snapped back, his eyes darkening, the anger and hurt in his voice powerful against the heavier breeze that was now present.

"Well then, if it's so bad, why are you back?!"

"For you! Jesus, Anna, I'm here to save your ass!" The wind roared at that note, along with the frustration in his voice, almost swallowing his words whole. The trees rattled in the distance, and the feeling of alarm jumped around in my gut.

"I don't need saving," I said, in a shaky, angry voice that didn't exactly sound like me. He could have easily hurt me. He was tall, and strong, and had fifty pounds of muscle over me. He could have easily grabbed hold of my wrist, just  a bit too tightly, or shoved me, just a bit too roughly. But he didn't. No, he just loomed over me, making me feel trapped and liberated at the same time.

"Anna, you have no idea what's gong on, just let me explain-"

"Don't talk to me. Don't come into my dreams, or call me your soulmate, or shield me. Whatever the hell you think your selling, I don't want to buy," I said hastily, shoving him away and opening my car door. It wasn't until I turned on my car did the familiar feel of thoughts in my head begin.

You're  in danger, Anna. I'm trying to save you. Look, I know some Others, like us, and they can train you-

"And tell your creepy friend to leave me the hell alone at lunch," I said, slamming the door shut and tearing out of the parking lot. It wasn't until I was halfway home did I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.

Delicate

 

The faint lights of Wickerville sat below us, as we lounged in his car on the hill. You could see all ten stoplights, and every glowing bedroom window and nightlight in the dark, small town. The old buildings looked like they were a part of a miniature set, like the ones you would set out under the Christmas tree. The old, worn buildings were still painted as they were over a hundred years ago. The streets were still cobblestoned in some places, like near Jake's house on Levette Street.

Levette Street was the place those big, old, triple-tiered houses rested, each one reminding me of a wedding cake. They were all white, or off-white, and had front porch pillars or stain-glass windows or fountains or gazeboes. The mansions were elegant, much like Jake himself, humbly perfect in my eyes. It was a nice cul de sac, with a fancy park a few blocks away, close to Main Street. Levette Street was pretty and safe.

Levern Street, where Grandmother and I lived, was the place you didn't want to go in the middle of the night. Wickerville was close enough to New Orleans you could smell the cooking spices and hear the myraid of French and English and Spanish and Cajun. Levern Street was where ghosts play, Grandmother told me.

Our house was across the street from the Wickerville Cemetery. I used to go there at night, and talk to Allen and Marie Breaux, their plots right next to each other. They were both almost eighty when they died, and had been dead for almost twenty years, but I still visited them, although they were nothing more than strangers. Pretending they were my parents, I'd tell them about my day and confess my secrets. I told myself having fake, dead parents were better than the backsliders I had to call my own.

Levern Street was also home to the old, New Orleans styled houses and one's that were run-down and ghetto. Everone on Levern Street spoke a different language; the Doucets' house always smelled of frying catfish and Cajun spices. They yelled out, in jumbled, hurried Cajun French, to 'git in da house before Mama gets en colair'!'.

Grandmother used to talk to them, in Cajun French, saying words like: bonne a rienne, bon rienne, canaille, capon, en bouts des dents, and envie. I used to think she could speak it fluently, until I realized she was just a gossip. Roughly translated, she would say: a good for nothing or promiscuous woman, a good for nothing or lazy man, sly or sneaky, coward, to eat something you find distasteful, a craving.

There were the Santiagos, who used to bring us tamales and sopapillas every once in a while, with dipping honey. Their son, Rico, was a few years younger than me, and used to play tag with some of the other neighborhood kids. He'd always ask me to play, whether it was out of pity that I didn't have many friends, or the obvious crush I didn't need mind-reading to figure out.

The Gaetjens were nice. It wasnt like they walked around in Hatian clothes, or garbled out curses. No, they were a pretty normal family-- for Louisianna, anyways. They're daughter, Laurette, was seven. Johanne, Laurette's mother, had taken in her mother, Fredeline. Fredeline and Grandmother often played bridge together, and smoked cigarettes on the front porch of the Gaetjens three room house. I always liked the Gaetjens; they were nice, and Johanne was stunning, with toffeed skin and almond eyes.

Levern Street, the diversity of it all, was my favorite part of Wickerville. I liked Levern Street better than the library, and the park. The pool, which tickled my nose at the scent of chlorine, was open in the summertime, where all the kids and grandparents and adults would try to squeeze into the tiny cement in-ground pool that was only big enough for a few hundred people. The tiny general store on Main Street sold everything from fishing lures to fried chicken and pigeon peas. The high school's parking lot streetlamps, which reminded me with a chill that Avery was back, were still illuminating their dark surroundings.

You could see all of this from where Jake and I sat on the hill. This, the two of us alone with the rest of our world seeming miles away, was our place. Everytime something big happened-- Jake's grandfather's death, the crazy thing that brought us together in the first place; my spot on the cheerleading team, something that we had celebrated with gummy worms and root beer; our math test, which we had snuck out of and instead laid out on a blanket on top of the world-- we would come to our place.

Now, we were lying on our backs, staring up at the stars. The woolen blanket Jake had brought from his house was soft underneath us; the stars were brighter with Jake, who held my hand and pointed out constellations.

I didn't want to tell him I wasn't in the mood to talk. He was smiling, and stroking my hair with his free hand. I didn't want to be the one to dampen his mood. Something good had obviously happened. Ever since he picked me up from my house that night, he hadn't been able to contain himself, or keep his hands off of me. Which, in my opinion, was the best distraction from Avery Silver. Although, knowing myself, I just had to open my big mouth.

"-I mean, who does he think he is?! Ugh, the guy is just annoying! He's so-"

"Vee, I get it, you don't like him," Jake sighed, the annoyance in his voice bubbling. Why is she so hung up on this creep, he thought, making me cringe. I shouldn't have been talking about Avery, I knew that, but I couldn't help myself.

My head was still reeling from mine and Avery's discussion in the parking lot. What did he have to save me from? Death by boredom? Casey's evil glares? True's sexual encounter stories? Either way, I was safe in Wickerville. The most that could harm me was Avery himself.

"Sorry. Sorry, I just... he shouldn't be here, that's all," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest and slightly jutting out my bottom lip. Jake glanced at me, a dark brow arched, a look of disbelief on his face.

"What's the big deal if he's back? You said yourself you don't even want to talk to him," he mumbled, his tone disgruntled and annoyed.

"Jake, you don't get it. He'll go out of his way to talk to me! I mean, he'll probably follow me home from school!"

"Okay, egomaniac," he snorted, the sarcasm dripping very heavily in his voice. I rolled my eyes and clenched my teeth. Jake would never understand, obviously. He may have thought my stalking idea  was just my inflated ego, or maybe even a weak joke, but he didn't know the truth.

Jeez, I was hoping she wouldn't ruin this night. I was so excited to tell her about my scholarship, he thought, making me freeze mid-complaint. A wide smile tugged at my mouth, and I looked over at him with wide eyes.

"Jake! You got-," I began, my voice rising an octave higher in excitement, only to catch myself. His puzzled expression left my mouth gaping open. Ugh, me and my big mouth!

"I've got...?"

"A bug! In your hair," I cried, untwining our fingers and running my finger through his hair quickly. His brows crinkled in amused confusion, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Despite the annoyance I could feel on the horizon, he seemed to be slightly content again.

"Are you sure it just wasn't a reason for you to touch my hair," he teased, making me blush and smile.

"And now you're the egomaniac. So," I drawled, nestling into his side and pulling at blades of long grass that grew around us, "is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

Don't tell her now. She'd be pissed.

The excitement was swallowed by confusion. Why would I be angry? Glancing over at him, I watched as he glanced at his wrist, like he was looking at a watch. It was his tell.

Shrugging and shaking his head, he said, "Nope. None that I know of."

Hurt, I seemed to shrink like a carton character. My day had been crap. Casey had kicked my butt during practice; Avery surprised me with a very unwelcome visit; and now, my oh-so-perfect boyfriend was lying to me. What next?

Fair

 

I dreamed of my mother that night. I had dreamed of her occassionally, even before Avery Silver came back to Wickerville. But this one was different. In this one, I drown.

The rolling waves licked at my ankles, in fondness like a puppy lapping at your fingers. The sand that squished between my toes was soft, fine as it trickled through my fingers. I tilted my head back, basking in the lowering sunlight as dawn arrived. The sky was streaked with pinks and oranges, reminding me of fire. So did the black shadow that looked like smoke.

"Vienna," the smoke called, its voice almost heavenly. No, her voice. I glanced over my shoulder, leaning back on the palms of my hands, and felt my face blanch. I stumbled from my spot on the sandy ground, my knees weak and shaking.

"Mom?"

Her eyes were black, empty abysses that held nothing of her former life. Her blonde hair was stringy, falling out of its loose ponytail, and weakly held at the nape of her neck. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and the webs of blue veins traveled up her arm like a map.

Memories attacked me like a swift punch in the gut:

I was five. She was brushing my hair and singing softly to herself. I faintly remembered our tiny apartment, which had one bedroom and a bathroom the size of my closet.

She'd hug me and kiss me and and call me her 'banana fishin' pole'.

She'd make me macaroni and cheese, and watch the silly cartoons I loved.

She loved me. And then, she left. No, she was missing. That's what Grandmother had said. I wanted to know how she got lost driving to my grandmother's house from her job at Dottie's Diner, a route she knew by heart.

"You're so pretty," she marveled, so close a chill ran down my spine when she breathed on me. She didn't blink, and I watched as black liquid dripped from her nose. The metalic scent of blood and something else made my stomach churn. "You look just like me."

I felt the sand shift underneath me, and, startled, I looked down. My feet, bare and dirty, began sinking into the sand. Drip, drip, drip went that blood that trickled down her face and onto the sand.

"Vienna Nicole, you and I can't be seperated now," she said quietly, her ice cold fingers stroking my cheek. I stumbled, trying to escape from her grip, but the heavy sand that was swallowing me was holding me in place.

"D-Don't touch me," I whimpered, although the words did nothing but bounce off of her. The sand was swallowing me faster; my legs were sinking faster and faster, the sand reaching my hips. I had to look up to see her now. Feeling so small, I cowered backwards, my back hitting the sand floor with a thud.

"You're dead. Y-You're dead. You've been dead for thirteen years," I cried, watching as that black liquid drip-drip-dripped right next to me. She didn't say anything, only watched as the sand swallowed me whole. It climbed up my body like ivy, until I was almost neck deep. My fingers were barely peeking out from the sand as I tried to crawl back to the surface. Suddenly, it was covering my neck. My chin. My mouth.

A muffled scream came from somewhere deep inside, but it didn't matter. I swallowed sand, filling my lungs and throat. My nose. The last thing I saw was my mother, drip-drip-dripping onto the white sand.

~~~

"Slut muffin, you need to get some new concealer. I can see the Pradas hanging under your eyes from halfway across the room," True sighed, leaning against the locker next to mine. I exhaled loudly and struggled to fit my bag into the tiny space that was my cursed locker.

I wasn't in the mood to banter with True; I was still shaken from my dream.

"Right, I'll remember that next time I get ready for one of our hot dates," I muttered, disgruntled and frustrated. True, hearing my comment, grabbed hold of my arm, pulling me into an awkward hug. This kid looks like a heroine addict. She's so lucky I love her. Hearing his thoughts, I managed to barely withhold a snort.

"Vienna, I love you, you know that right," he muttered. I rolled my eyes and let a small smile quirk onto my lips. "But, seriously, we need to get some 'Energy Blend' into you before you become a part of the Walking Dead."

"Yes, Dad," I sighed monotonously, giving him a half-hearted, playful glare. He squeezed my wrists and released me, a small, pity-laced smile that made my mouth taste sour. I hated that True pitied me. It wasn't even my ego this time. True was the gay kid, the one everyone made fun of. If he thought my insomniac issues were bigger than Gage Ferris shoving him in the janitor's closet and assaulting him with a stolen makeup kit, I knew I was just shrugging all my problems off.

"Now, as the bestest friend,-" he began, only to look up. Watching his jaw slack, and the sudden silence that rippled through the halls, I lifted my head towards the front doors. The halls parted like the Red Sea, and a hush fell like snow. Everyone was looking at them.

"Who's the hottie," True murmured, his eyes still glued to them. The breath that escaped my lips rattled my chest.

"Avery Silver," I managed. The moment his name rolled off my tongue, Avery's eyes met mine, dark blue like ink and black like ebony, eyes that made goose bumps crawl on my skin. A smirk tugged at his pink lips, filling the apple of his cheeks. Distressed jeans hung from his lean muscular hips, and a black fitted tee stretched across his broad shoulders and back. The heavy thud of his boots against the linoleum were the only things reminding me this was reality.

"No. I mean the other one," True whispered, making me blink. Only then did I realize Avery wasn't alone.

The two flanked his sides, and together they all looked like they stepped right out of a magazine. The girl was tall, with that desired hourglass firgure and captivating electric blue eyes. Her honey blond  brows were arched in superiority when she caught me looking. A snotty scowl was placed on her bubblegum pink, glossed lips.

They boy was her polar opposite. He had a broad chest, and a large frame compared to her. His arms were muscular, sprinkled with dark hairs. His chin was lifted, like he knew he was too good to be in Wickerville, Louisiana of all places, and his brown eyes scanned everyone's face. A dopey smile tugged at his lips when he looked at me, almost like he knew me.

It didn't take long for everyone to tear their eyes away. What felt like an eternity of staring was only four or five seconds in reality. I kept staring, though.

His body, the way he floated through the halls with his little friends, was magnetizing. His stare felt hot and cold, a shock that rippled down my body. They kept moving through the halls fluidly, like they hadn't noticed the sudden halt in space and time.

 This is reality, I reminded myself. Avery was back. And, he had brought friends.

~~~

The library fourth block was usually destitute, something I was so grateful for. Most of the other kids who had free period fourth hour would go off school grounds and get a burger at Natty's, the only drive-thru within a twenty mile radius of Wickerville. So, I would sit in the musty old library reading the 'banned books', the ones our church forbid their 'abundantly Christ-devoted youth of this era' to so much as glance at. The only sounds I heard were Mrs. Greer, the librarian, reshelving books and the muffled ticking of the clock that hung from the brick wall.

The old, rickety oak chair I sat in was uncomfortable; the books smelled musty and old and forgotten; the lights flickered when the door opened. I turned, only to see the one person I had been trying to avoid all day. Avery, catching my eye, shot me an amused smilie as he came just a bit closer. Cursing myself, I hurriedly gathered my books, stray papers falling on the ground.

"Shit," I muttered, as I dropped my book on the ground with a thud. Thinking he would be standing there, I looked over my shoulder, but to no avail. Confused, I turned, craning my neck to see if maybe he was hiding behind a book shelf or shielding his face with a book. The sound of a throat clearing itself made me freeze in the process.

"Drop something," he asked teasingly, his deep voice almost velvety. In his hand, which was outstretched towards me, was my book, 'Interview With the Vampire'. I snatched it from him quickly, avoiding his eye contact and feeling my cheeks heat up.

"I-I was just leaving," I muttered, trying to shoulder past him only to have him grab onto my shoulder. His grip was firm, and surfaced the memory of our first kiss. We had been talking to each other, using our thoughts, for hours that day. Sitting up in the giant oak tree in his backyard, he kissed me right smack on the lips, his pink petaled mouth tasting like lemonade. I think he felt my nostalgia, because an impish smile tugged at his lips as he lead me back to my chair and pulled out my seat. Almost obediently, I sat, watching him as he pulled out the seat across fom me and plopped into it. He settled, a black t-shirted bird in his nest, and laid his hands on the tabletop, quirking a dark brow at me.

"Anna... do you want to forget me," he asked abruptly, making me even more confused. I watched in amazement as he opened a book, flipping the pages nonchalantly, without even touching it. Just by pointing at it and flicking his wrist, the pages turned, bending against their will. It hovered just above the table, and stupidly, I waved my hand underneath it, checking for some sort of wire. There was none.

"H-How're you doing that," I whispered, my mouth frozen in a small O, the shock written clearly on my face. He chuckled, running his fingers through his hair and letting the book fall back onto the table.

"Magic."

I laughed, crazy kind of chuckle that bubbled up my throat, and stared at him quizzically. I understood why he left now-- he was mentally deranged. Not only was he making me crazy, he was trying to shove the idea of magic  down my throat. How delightlful.

"Right," I drawled, grabbing hold of my stuff and pressing it against my chest as I shot out of my chair. I hadn't even taken a step when I was practically thrown back into my seat by an invisibe force, my back slamming against the upholstered backrest. Avery didn't even flinch. Wincing, I glared at him. "You should really learn how to treat a lady."

"Anna, do you want to forget me? Yes or no," he asked again, his tone steeling and icy. An undertone of urgency was buried there, and confusedly, I raised a brow.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because maybe you wouldn't be such a pain in the ass everytime I try to talk to you," he snapped, making me flinch.

"Did I hurt your oh-so-precious feelings," I asked, watching as pain seeped into his features.

I kept my promise, Anna. I can't really blame you for keeping yours, he thought, making me feel guilty. Despite the anger and hurt I felt, a new wave hit me, unfamiliar feelings tagging along for the ride. It took me a moment to realize they were his. Red hot anger ate at my chest; deep blue sadness licked at my heart; blinding hope held onto me; tingling, glowing love cloaked me in nostalgic buzz. Desite what you think, Anna, I want to keep you safe.

I looked up, into those eyes that never held one true color, and felt that armor I had saddled on begin to chink and dent like a crumpled can.

"Avery," I breathed, closing my eyes and kissing my bottom lip, "what are we? How did you... move the book?"

"Anna... like I said, I used magic. And, we can do such more than just read the thoughts of the loser gym teachers and horny fifteen year old guys," he insisted, reaching across the table and lifting my chin upwards so I had not choice but to look at him. His touch made me shiver.

"Who are the two kids you brought here? Are they... like us?"

He nodded, biting his bottom lip. "I shouldn't be telling you this. Your grandma meant to keep all of this a secret. She's going to kill me-"

"She knows...?"

"Well..."

"Well, what? Avery, she's been lying to me all this time, hasn't she?" He didn't deny it, and his eyes harbored another emotion, layered underneath the glassy dark irises that haunted my head like clockwork. His hands, cupping my chin, his thumb tracing my jawline like it was addictive, smelled like sandalwood and green woods. I breathed in his scent. 

"Anna," he tried again, his voice calm ocean water on my skin, his hand still cupping my face, "she was going to tell you."

"I-I... I have to go home," I blurted, feeling the world begin to shift, that earthquake beginning to make my knees rattle. Vertigo ate at my stomach, brain,  heart, a plague shadowing me as I shakily stood up. "No! Avery, I-I have to go home!"

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 27.06.2013

Alle Rechte vorbehalten

Widmung:
To Nicky Charles, whose books sucked me into the supernatural :D It's my 'first' (or at least published) shot at a paranormal romance, so tell me what you think!