Glimpse: Book One of the Glimpse Quartet, page 8
With only minutes left until two-thirty, she clears her throat. “We’d better get back to the lobby.”
Mr. Trudeau waits with the rest of the class when we arrive, tapping his pen on his clipboard like a drumstick. “I hope everybody enjoyed the museum. I know a lot of what you saw was only replicas and photographs, but I hope it gave you a taste of what we’ll be studying.”
“Good thing he didn’t catch us in the Roman section,” she whispers next to me.
“I don’t think he caught anyone. He was too excited about the exhibit to feel like babysitting.”
She stifles her answering laugh with a hand over her mouth.
“Back on the bus, people.” Trudeau leads the way, a slight bounce in his step as we follow in a heard. On board, I step out of the way and offer her the window seat with a wink.
“Careful. I might start to think you’re decent.” She smirks at me as she slides in, patting the spot next to her with an overacted smile.
Leaning in a little too close, I whisper, “I told you so.”
Chapter Eleven
Blair
“I’m sorry, what?” Gia asks through a mouthful of pizza, though I’ve told her the story at least three times now.
“It was weird. I think he might actually have a soul.”
She raises her eyebrows, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Did you kiss him?”
“What? No—w—why would you think…No,” My head shakes so fast I can feel my brain rattle, though the image it conjures in my head sends a strange tingle through my fingertips.
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re all moony over him.”
The cafeteria plunges into silence as a new sensation takes over, like everyone is looking at me, even though I can see they are not. “I’m not moony,” I scrunch my nose at her, “All I’m saying is he might not be as awful as I thought.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Her lips purse as she asks.
I don’t answer, focusing intently on my food. When I risk a glance at her, I find her eyes focused on something in the distance. Behind me, Liam walks into the cafeteria in dark jeans and a white t-shirt, Bradley at his side.
“Is he coming over here?”
The power of speech evades me. As much as I want to believe there’s more to him than arrogance and pride, she’s right. He hasn’t even come close to working his way out of purgatory.
He turns in time to catch me staring, and it is like that first day all over again. I can’t look away, no matter how loud my brain screams at me to break eye contact. But in less than a second, he looks away, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Are they friends?” The disgust that colors Gia’s question tells me she is not talking about Bradley. And while I can’t risk another look, I know who she’s talking about.
“Apparently.” He’s been to lunch with Becca and Alicia almost every day since he’s been here.
She nudges my foot beneath the table. “What was that you were saying about a soul?”
“Shut up.” I shake my head and finish lunch in silent, shocked amazement at my own stupidity. Why do I keep looking at him like that?
Another never-ending day of basketball in gym class has me seriously considering ditching the rest of the day. If I have to see Liam again, I may die of embarrassment. Not that basketball isn’t enough to make me consider social isolation for a while.
By the time I wander into Bio, I have had plenty of practice keeping my eyes on the floor. If I don’t look up, I can’t get caught in his weird, intrusive stare. Gia smiles at me at the back of the classroom, waving me to the empty seat beside her.
“Quiet down, everyone,” Mr. Parker says, lowering the projection screen. “We’re watching a video today.” His sweater vest is Barney purple today, layered over a white dress shirt. “I’ll also be handing back your group work.” The stack of papers on his desk fills me with dread. Time to see if Liam’s gamble paid off.
“I gave Blair and Liam extra credit,” he answers my silent concern, and I sink lower in my seat. “Way to think outside the box, you two. Underachieving is not the only way to go, people.”
He slips the paper onto Liam’s desk, after smiling too big at each of us in turn. The rest of the class responds with the scattered rolling of eyes and hushed giggles. Teacher’s pet, indeed.
Liam looks over his shoulder and gives me a wink which, combined with his smug expression, tells me he is exactly who I thought he was two days ago.
“What’s that about?” Gia asks.
“How should I know?” I shrug. “He’s a dick.”
Mr. Parker’s outdated video manages to put a serious damper on movie day, scratchy audio paired with black and white picture. Count on him to pick a movie so boring I’d rather do classwork. When the bell sounds, it’s merciful ring, English is all that stands between me and freedom.
“How much money would I have to pay you to ditch with me?” Gia asks. Where was she during gym class? I would have left in a heartbeat.
“My college tuition.”
“Damn. I am so not in the mood for Shakespeare. Would you kill me if I left you here?” She bats her eyes at me, grabbing my arm to make me look at her.
Walking home is not the worst thing that could happen to me. It might even help to have extra time before I have to risk seeing my mother. “Go for it.”
“I can ask Heather to give you a ride home. I don’t think she has practice today,” she offers.
“It’s cool, G,” I assure her. “I can walk.” Her concern is touching, unnecessary as it is. If my mom were anywhere near this concerned, she wouldn’t keep screwing up so royally.
“You’re sure?”
“Get out of here before you get caught.” I shove her toward the exit, where she checks over her shoulder three times before sneaking out the door. I meander into the classroom, but before I can get to my seat, I catch my foot on a desk and launch my books across the floor.
“What a spaz.” Alex laughs as he walks past me, kicking my pencil away just as I reach to grab it. More than a few hands reach to help me gather everything, but as I stand up, I see Liam from the corner of my eye, pretending not to notice me.
At least I do not have to listen to him read. Ms. Yates devotes the entirety of class to a discussion on the central themes of the play, focusing mostly on Hamlet’s internal conflict. In spite of subject matter that is too close to home, I scribble notes and keep my gaze anywhere but on Liam.
I am halfway out the door before the period ends, hungry for fresh air.
“Don’t trip,” Alex calls behind me, and I walk faster.
Outside, the air is cold but not unbearable. But by the time I cross the parking lot, it starts to rain. My hood is useless against the drizzle, which falls at exactly the right angle to soak my face. I fold my arms and make myself small, figuring less surface area means less water to hold in my clothes.
As the rain soaks through my shoes, making my socks squish in protest, I can’t help but regret rejecting Gia’s offer to find me a ride. Friction cannot save my cold hands, and in the absence of a water-proof jacket, there is not a lot I can do.
Tires sound in the water behind me, followed by a car horn. My middle finger is up and pointed at the driver before I can squint through the glass to make out Liam’s shape.
“Sure you want me to fuck off? I was going to offer you a ride.” He rolls down the window as he pulls up beside me, his worn grey Honda at odds with everything else about him.
“I thought you were Alex.” Though the fuck-off still stands.
He nods as if that means something to him, even though we both know he’s just as bad. “You’re really going to walk in this?”
“I don’t want to ruin your upholstery.” The rain falls so loud I reach a near-shout. I am exactly ten seconds from surrender, and he knows it.
“Don’t worry about it.” He yanks the lever and I have to jump out of the way so it doesn’t hit me when it swings open. I shoot him a glare, but the beckoning warmth of his car is too tempting to turn down.
“So is this the deal?”
His eyebrow perks up. “Deal?”
“You can only be nice to me when no one else is around?” When no one else can see that he’s friends with the trailer kid.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the tone of his voice says otherwise. Bastard.
“Of course not.”
“Blair,” he starts.
“It’s fine. I barely know you.”
“That’s true.” He nods, blunt as ever. “Which way?” he asks when we come to an intersection.
“Left. And then right at the first stop sign.”
He follows my directions in silence while the rain smacks against the windshield in large drops. In the rain, Ash Wood seems almost quaint; the trickling water in the gutters more alive than half the town, even with the black-and-white effect it brings.
A couple of people sprint between cars and shops, caught off guard by the weather like I was. If I had a pencil, I would capture the sight right here and now.
“I wasn’t trying to offend you.” His voice breaks through my wistful thoughts.
I keep my gaze forward, focusing on the rain. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t need to be anyone’s charity case.”
“You know, if you would stop being so arrogant, people would like you more.”
I am too shocked to answer, my mouth dropping open as I surrender and look at him in all his self-contained glory.
“You’re throwing this pity party for yourself because you don’t fit in, but it doesn’t have to be like that.”
“Okay.” I smooth my hair back, gathering my thoughts. “First, that’s pretty rich coming from the most self-absorbed, arrogant guy I’ve ever met. And second, you don’t know anything. You’ve been at this school for what, a month?” I can feel my blood heat, rising to the surface of my skin and chasing away any lingering cold from the rain. “I’ve got a decade on you.”
I would bet my next paycheck he’s exactly like Alicia. I can’t believe I thought there might be more to him just because he was normal for half a second.
“Do whatever you want. But people avoid you because you think you’re better than them. Not because of where you live.”
They steer clear of me because my mom is a drunk and my dad is dead and there is only so much damage allowed for one person. No one would dare step into this mine field if they didn’t have to, and it’s just as well. None of them can understand. “It’s the one on the end of the street.”
I point at the trailer, cringing at the sight of it in the rain. Before I get out of the car, I bite my lip and turn back to him.
“Thanks again for the ride. And the enlightening conversation.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me back before I can explain, his grey eyes narrow and serious under the weight of my glare.
“I’m sorry for offending you. But you…” He searches for the words, his eyes dropping away.
“If you tell me to smile more, I’ll punch you in the throat.”
His face splits into a wide smile, exposing perfect, white teeth. “No one said you can’t be dark and broody.”
He releases my arm as swiftly as he grabbed it, the lingering warmth of his touch sending a bitter heat through my soaked sleeve. I step out of the car and watch him turn around, the passenger window rolling down before he leaves.
“And Blair?”
“Yes?”
“You should smile more.” He smirks, stepping on the gas in the next second. I growl after him, searching the ground for something to throw. But the crushed soda can I hurl after him drifts to the ground, his car long gone.
I wait until I’m inside to release a sigh, keeping my hand on the door frame long after the door closes.
“How was school?” my mother’s voice sounds from her bedroom. When I cross the threshold, I find her sitting on her bed with a magazine in her hands and an empty glass on her nightstand.
“Any luck today?”
“I didn’t find anything. You know how it is.”
My lips set into a hard line as I walk in and take the glass from her nightstand. It’s not even five. “Yeah. I know.”
“Can you make dinner tonight?” She doesn’t look up from the magazine, flipping the page is if I’m not standing here willing her to look at me.
I clear my throat and flex my jaw. “I’ll take care of it.”
On my way out of her room, I catch sight of a crumpled-up picture of my father on the top of her dresser. Every muscle in my legs tenses and I have to force each step on the way to the kitchen where I deposit her glass in the sink and then head to the fridge.
Liam’s words leave my fingers in danger while I chop vegetables for stir-fry—not that she’ll notice what she’s eating, anyway. His judgmental gaze weighs on my mind to the point that I look over my shoulder every few minutes expecting him to be there.
By seven o’clock I have dinner ready and most of my homework done. Not to mention a solid plan for the next two months to keep us above water.
“Dinner is ready.” I stand in her doorway the second the hour hits. She sits right where I left her, filing her nails with a strange look on her face.
“Can you bring it in here? I have a headache.” She doesn’t look up, inspecting her hand like it’s the most important thing in the world.
“Sure.” I tap on the door frame with my thumbs a couple times before heading back to the kitchen. Pausing at the table, I suppress the tears in my eyes and bear the shame of carrying her plate back to the bedroom.
“Thank you, sweetie.” Fake smile. More nail filing.
“Yep.”
The kitchen is too quiet with only the sound my chewing to break up the silence. I know exactly where she keeps the bottles under her bed—the ones that, no matter how many times I throw them out, always reappear. So when I hear her stumbling to the bathroom an hour after I’ve left her, there is no surprise. Only a fleeting memory of what life was like two months ago.
In the relative safety of my room, my charcoal set greets me with warm familiarity, swallowing the words I could never say out loud. My hand moves furiously over the sketchpad, filling in details so minute they would not matter to anyone else.
At three-thirty in the morning my hand cramps and I lean back to examine a near-perfect replication of the stoplight on Fourth and Grant in the rain. Liam’s dash lines the bottom of the paper and it feels so real, I could be sitting in the front seat again.
At least there’s one thing I’m still good at. If I could crawl through the drawing and relive that moment, I would tell him exactly where to shove his self-righteous opinions. But, as time machines are in short supply, I set the charcoal aside and settle for the hope that sleep is more peaceful than waking.
Chapter Twelve
Liam
I should leave Ash Wood.
It’s the only logical decision after everything I’ve done to draw attention. In a matter of weeks I have made more waves here than I managed in two full years in Florida.
The view outside my window taunts me, promising the kind of freedom I will never taste. Everything I own is packed in a single suitcase, my story already on my lips.
I’ll give it a couple days. Start dropping hints here and there before I tell Bradley my father’s job didn’t work out. Act like I want to keep it private. And when I disappear, he can spread the news of my absence. A clean exit, and within a few months no one will remember I was here.
The only thing that brings me comfort is the whiskey in my hand, dulling the ache with every sip. For a town I never intended to visit, that has given me nothing but hell since I arrived, I never expected it to be so hard to leave.
But roots, it seems, are quicker to grow than I expected.
Damn this human flesh prison, willing me to soften all my decisions.
Isolation was my friend in Florida. In hindsight, choosing a small town was a stupid idea. There is far too much gossip here to keep me hidden. In the short time I’ve been here, I have learned about every affair, both known and unknown, every scandal, every piece of inconsequential history.
Sighing one last time at the view, I study the world map spread out on my table. Ireland might offer me some cover, given his obsession with England. But it is still too close. The sheer uninhabitability of the Australian outback would deter anyone else but Vaughn, but there’s too much open space.
I rub a hand over my face, resisting the urge to consult the internet. Anything I can do to prevent a trail.
It’s her face that enters my mind on a loop every time I come close to settling on a new location, her penetrating stare piercing through me even from a distance.
She doesn’t know anything, I remind myself. Though my reconnaissance efforts were mediocre at best, I am almost certain she does not know what she is.
Part of me wonders if I should tell her. The evidence will stack up soon enough, but without someone to guide her, she won’t be able to make sense of it. She ought to know she isn’t human, annoying and stubborn though she may be.
But it’s too risky. I could leave her a letter, but that would more than likely prompt her to follow me. The only thing left is to disappear before she has anything to say about me.
And hope she finds out on her own.
My paranoia takes me in circles, trapping me in an endless feedback loop I know I’m only in because I can’t admit the truth out loud: that part of me longs to drive to her house right now and blow the whole thing up, if only to fast-forward to our inevitable demise.
I should have left the second I met her, instead of creating these endless excuses to stay.
As the night deepens, I keep my focus on the map, weighing the merits of crowded cities and remote islands. But in my gut, I know , unless I can discover the lost city of Atlantis, there is nowhere left to go where he will not follow.
