“Did you hear any whispers in the forest since you’ve been here?” he asked once we got to my campsite.
I rolled my eyes. “What do you mean?” He was acting weird. And the only thing I wanted was for him to take me into his arms and kiss me. Oh, and I wanted him to ask me out again, of course.
But I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t figure out what I did to make him lose interest so suddenly. Maybe he never felt any attraction to me to begin with.
“How long are you and your family staying here?” he asked as he glanced out at the dark ocean.
“We’re camping for two weeks.” My stomach felt like it was tied up in a knot.
“Two weeks!” He almost shouted. His expression was aghast. “You shouldn’t stay so long. It gets boring here. What were your parents thinking?”
I just wanted to run away. If he didn’t want to see me again, he could avoid me easily enough. I guess he was afraid I’d stalk him at his cabana or something pathetic like that.
“Well, it was my idea to vacation for two weeks.”
“Alright,” he said in irritation. “It doesn’t look like your mother and father are even here.” His expression was even more irate.
“They went to the Starlight Opera.”
His eyes widened even further. “That’s like an hour away! What kinds of parents leave a young girl alone in the woods?”
Now he was offending me. Nobody should talk about my folks like that. “I guess they’re the types who don’t kick their kid out, but trust me enough to not smother me. I am almost eighteen.”
He backed away. I could tell I hurt him by using what he had told me about his mother and stepfather against him. “Lock the door when you go inside.” He shook his head. “This is going to be a long night,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Fine,” I stomped away. But when I opened the motorhome door, I thought I heard whispers coming from behind the trees again. I turned back and looked at Dylan who was still watching me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I do not approach her, I merely skirt the periphery of her existence… --Søren Kierkegaard
Goose bumps lifted on my arms. Quickly, I shut the motorhome door and closed the blinds on the tiny window. I put my head in my hands as I leaned against the inside of the door.
I didn’t want to stay in the motorhome alone. Right then I made a decision. Once he was far enough away from my campsite, I would go back to the beach and hang out with the others at the bonfire. Just because Dylan didn’t like me didn’t mean I couldn’t make friends and enjoy my vacation. There were plenty of kids at the fire who weren’t even associated with Dylan and his crowd.
And why shouldn’t I hang out with Wren, Lyra, and Gia. They were nice. He was probably just jealous that his buddies were getting hotter girls than he was. Maybe he wanted to get rid of me so that he could pick up on one of them. He stood a much better chance than Logan, Jeff, or DJ. They were good looking, but not hot like Dylan.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Dylan couldn’t have been interested in me in the first place. He could get any girl. I wasn’t exactly prized meat.
For who knows how long, I stood there thinking about Dylan. I must have analyzed everything he said the entire night a million times. For whatever reasons, I was crazy about him.
Oh, the more I pondered about how much I liked him, the sicker I felt. I wished I had never met him. Then I wouldn’t have to know what I was missing out on. I couldn’t imagine ever meeting a guy like him ever again.
Taking the gold medallion he gave me out of my pocket, I gazed at the sapphire dagger that the mermaid held. Dylan was a once in a lifetime boy. He was the kind of guy I could have a twenty year anniversary with like my parents, the kind of guy I could love forever. And as crazy as it sounded, I could tell all that after just one night.
When you meet that one special boy, you just know he is right for you in your gut. You don’t need years to figure it out. You just feel it when it happens and absolute certainty takes over.
But apparently Dylan Masters didn’t feel the same way about me.
I threw my body down on the foldout bed beside the kitchen and buried my face in my pillow. Though my eyes welled up and snot filled my nasal passages, I wouldn’t cry. The turn of fate was too painful to accept. I held in my emotions and just allowed my body to ache all over. The medallion fell from my hand and dropped to the floor.
I tried to make excuses for him. Maybe he was just tired and needed sleep, I rationalized. But if he felt any of the same tingling sensations in his body as I felt in mine, then he would be as restless as me. How could anyone even relax when there was an electrical storm going on in their head? I didn’t want to accept that this was just a meaningless passing night.
I got off the pullout bed and poured out my mother’s makeup bag on the counter of the vanity nook. With that, I sat down on the built in swivel stool and started decorating my face. I wasn’t so good at it, but at least I should get an “A” for effort.
My eyelids were a bit too grey and sparkly, but the rose lipstick and mascara looked good enough. I brushed my stringy hair and in the florescent overhead lights, it looked almost golden with soft waves—finally a good hair night.
Though we were about the same size, my mom was much more of a girly girl than me, always ready for a night on the town. I opened the small closet behind the vanity and picked out one of her dresses. From my recollection, the long sleeveless pink one clung to my shape in just the right way. I pulled it on over my bathing suit.
All dressed and ready to go, I grabbed the flashlight and stepped out of the motorhome. It was almost pitch black outside. The clouds had drifted back over the stars and now a light fog waded over the ground. I could hear the distant sounds of waves rolling on the shore and the faint rhythmic beats of drums coming from the beach.
As I started to walk down the motorhome steps, I noticed a subtle aroma of pine in the misty air. From my recollection there weren’t many trees of that type at the campground. There were mostly oaks, manzanita, and eucalyptus. The scent distinctly reminded me of Dylan and the spray he had spritzed on himself at the market earlier.
I heard a noise from within the forest to my side. It sounded like the snap of a tree branch. My body tensed. Was it Ranger Mike, the serial killer, or the wild animal that ravaged the boys at the cove?
My mind started to race. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Images of the boys I had seen on the missing sign at the market flashed in my thoughts. I imagined their poor bodies torn to shreds, wide terrified eyes, blood everywhere. To die like that would be gruesome. My parents would be devastated.
Suddenly, I heard another sound. It was much faster and approaching quickly. I hardly had time to think.
Somebody was running through the woods. Dried leaves crushed under feet. There was a great rush.
At once, I turned to the motorhome door and tried to unlock it. My fingers fumbled with the keys. I dropped them. I leaned over to pick them up, but I couldn’t see them in the dark. I felt around for them on the motorhome steps as fast as I could.
I got them. Quickly, I picked up the keys and tried them in the lock. But before I could get it open. The footsteps got closer and then sprang on me. I fell to the ground.
I screamed bloody hell. I felt his cold teeth on my cheek. A tongue slobbered across my face. I tried desperately to scramble to my feet.
But then, there was a whimper and my hands caught in the thick fur. It was only Spike, the wolf-dog. He was greeting me.
“Spike! Oh, you nearly scared me to death.” I moved out from under him and stood up, dusting off my mother’s dress with my hand.
In the dark and mist he was hardly visible, but I could hear him panting. I patted his ruffled fur and he whimpered again.
“What’s wrong, guy?” There was something sticky and wet on my hand. I touched the wolf again and felt the wetness.
His panting ceased for a moment a
s he jumped to the side skittishly. He growled at something in the forest.
In my fall, the flashlight had dropped from my hands. Some luck I was having. I bent over and felt around on the ground, but I couldn’t find it.
Spike took off running back through the woods. I kept feeling around for the flashlight. My hands brushed over stones, pebbles and dirt. Finally, I found it next to the front tire of the motorhome. It must have rolled over there in my fall.
I pressed the switch and shined it over the campsite. Near where I had tumbled was a cluster of feathers. I walked over to it. The feathers were partially covered in blood and attached to a chunk of flesh! I threw it to the ground in horror.
What the hell was that?
I started to think it over. The wolf must have killed a bird and then carried a piece of it over to my campsite.
I shined the light on the mass again. The feathers were the stone blue color of the ocean and unusually long. Probably a large predatory bird of some sort. I laughed at myself for getting so frightened. Darkness can provoke crazy thoughts.
After a deep inhalation, I decided to head for the beach as planned. I felt stupid for getting all worked up over nothing. Following the distant drumbeats, I crossed the campground and descended the rock stairwell to the beach. The bonfire flamed in the distance a gentle orange red.
I took my sandals off and walked along the foggy shoreline enjoying the feel of the damp sand on my feet. Intuitively, I felt like I should turn back and just wait in the motorhome for my parents to return from their night out. But I brushed that thought away like sand in the wind more intent on escaping my mental turmoil over Dylan.
Looking ahead, I noticed that the crowd of kids thinned out and that the atmosphere around the bonfire seemed more intimate. I could only see silhouettes of bodies and couldn’t make out any faces. I wondered who was there and if I would be intruding on a private party now.
As I drew closer, I saw a few shirtless boys with perfect physiques playing hand drums, two of them I recognized as Dylan’s friends that I saw the first day before the mini-market. They were extraordinarily attractive, but had a sort of dangerous air. Wren and Lyra lied on their stomachs painting their nails. Gia was nowhere in sight.
With the drummers stunning looks and cool charisma, I wasn’t too surprised they beat out Logan, Jeff, and DJ on getting the hot girls. These boys looked tough and wild. And their hotness matched that of the young women.
Hesitantly I approached, against my better judgment. If I wasn’t feeling so out of control, I would have been more afraid that the blond guy might remember me and say something rude again to me. But with my mixed up emotions, I figured I’d risk a little humiliation.
“Hi,” Lyra sang. “It’s Hailey.” She looked at everybody. “So glad you came back.” Her voice was enchanting. And her long jet black hair draped over her body like a silky blanket.
I don’t think I could ever get used to looking at her or any of the kids before me for that matter. What was with this beach and gorgeous teenagers? My average looks and demeanor stood out like a sore thumb amongst these beauties.
Wren was staring at me with her intense blue eyes. “Please sit down and join us.”
The boys continued to play their drums while talking amongst each other occasionally. Their hard eyes were glassy blues and greens like the colors of the sea and their hair was ruffled from the wind.
Wren tossed her long golden hair over one shoulder trying not to mess her wet fingernails as she sat up. “Sit by me.” Her smile was surprisingly cutesy. She was very likeable.
“Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys. I was bored at our motorhome.” I sat down beside Wren facing the fire across from the boys. Really I wasn’t in the mood to spend time with them. All I could think about was Dylan. Seeing these guys just made me long for him more.
“Of course,” Wren smiled as she waved her wet nails in the air. They shimmered by the light of the fire. “We were disappointed when you left so abruptly earlier.
“Where is Gia?” I asked. My curiosity was getting the best of me.
Wren and Lyra looked at each other. For a moment they didn’t say anything.
“She’s out there,” Lyra finally said as she pointed at the ocean.
I scrunched my eyebrows together. “What do you mean?” My shoulders shrugged involuntarily. “Is she out on a boat?”
They laughed.
“No,” Lyra said, suppressing her amusement as best she could. “She’s swimming.” Her voice was matter of fact.
My eyes widened. “Swimming?”
They laughed again.
“We love to swim at night,” Wren explained. “Have you ever done it?”
I half rolled my eyes. “No.” I lied about that. Mom was the only person I knew who swam in the ocean at night and she liked to drag Dad and me along with her.
“It’s entirely thrilling,” Lyra murmured. “Swimming in the black ocean under a dark sky is spooky, yet exciting.
I shrugged again, considering the dangers before I changed the subject. “Where are you guys camping? I didn’t notice you at the campground.” I looked at both Lyra and Wren and couldn’t help but admire Wren’s abalone shell necklace that gleamed many colors in the firelight.
“We just sleep wherever.” Wren sort of giggled when she said that. She repositioned a string of pearls in her hair.
“You mean right here?”
Lyra sat up. I was surprised to see that she was only wearing a flesh colored bikini and a string of jewels around her waist. For a second I thought she was naked. “Five star hotels are nice…” she laughed through the drumbeats, “…but we prefer to sleep in natural environments.”
“I like to stare at the sky as I fall asleep.” Wren tilted her delicate chin upwards, looking at the full moon overhead. “Do you like to fly?” she asked in her soft melodic voice.
Her question caught me off guard. “When my parents and I take plane trips, I mostly just watch the movies and eat a lot of junk food.”
Both she and Lyra laughed at my response. Their voices were as charming as song birds.
“What about you? Do you like to fly?” I asked both of them. The conversation seemed a little strange to me, but I just decided to go with it.
“We fly all the time…” Lyra said, “…but we are really into watching the sites. There’s a small island out yonder…” she pointed toward the ocean before us. “It’s lined in craggy rocks, but beyond are the most beautiful fields of flowers…”
Wren interrupted excitedly, “We love to sleep there surrounded in vibrant colors and floral scents.” She exhaled and shook her head slightly like she was reliving a dream in her mind.
“Everybody’s got their quirks,” Wren sighed now, making fun of herself. “We’re nature freaks, I suppose.”
“Sounds wonderful,” I encouraged, genuinely longing to experience their world. I found their lifestyle surprising. Television usually depicted beautiful people as materialistic socialites, shopping all day, partying all night. Wren and Lyra weren’t anything like I imagined. They weren’t the 90210 girls as one might have expected.
I liked their oddities, as Wren described them. To me, idiosyncrasies were of poignant interest; contradictions tended to fascinate my generally bored mind. The more I got to know them, the more I wanted to know.
“Here comes the others,” Lyra mumbled in a guarded voice.
I looked out at the ocean and saw both Gia and Dylan coming out of the water. The waves splashed over them from behind. Dylan put his hand on Gia’s back to steady her.
My heart sank. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I must have been right when I suspected that Dylan had returned to the bonfire to win over one of the beautiful girls. Now he was with Gia and they had been swimming alone in the ocean the entire time I was talking with Wren and Lyra. They were probably making out under the starry sky.
I felt so stupid. And more than that, I was angry. He should have been straight with me
.
When Gia and Dylan walked up to the fire, Dylan didn’t even seem surprised to see me. For a second his eyes widened when he glanced at me, maybe because of the dress and makeup, but he quickly seemed to lose interest.
“It’s great out there,” he mumbled to the others, ignoring me. His wet body looked as gorgeous as ever. Goosebumps lifted on my chest when he ran his fingers through his wet hair.
I had to get away. It was too painful seeing Dylan with Gia. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I felt betrayed.
“Take me to that island with the flowers,” I blurted out to Wren and Lyra.
“Oh, no—we can’t,” Wren said. She looked at Lyra.
“Damn right you can’t,” Dylan responded harshly.
Gia laughed as she draped her fiery red hair over the front of her bikini top. “That’s Dylan’s and my island.” Her voice, as enchanting as it was, crushed my heart.
“Maybe we should take her.” Lyra’s expression looked amused. “We like Hailey.”
“I don’t like her,” Dylan said harshly.
“I don’t care what you like,” I snapped back at Dylan. “If you’re not going to take me, I’ll find it myself.” With that, I wiggled out of my mother’s dress and rushed out to the ocean, running through the small waves. I tried to hold back the tears, but I couldn’t stop them. A big, frothy wave broke over me and I dove in, swimming farther and farther out, until the wake relaxed in the dark glossy water.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Death, in itself, is nothing; but we fear,
To be we know not what, we know not where. –John Dryden, Aureng-Zebe
I took in a jagged breath—my emotions were aflame. The full moon was overhead with millions of stars twinkling on the black surface. How could Dylan be so cruel?
It was so quiet far out in the ocean like that. I was so alone and one with the world now. Oh, how much I hated Dylan Masters.
“Stop these horrible thoughts,” I told myself.
With that, I tried to drown out my emotions by swimming as fast and far as I could. The ocean seemed endless. My body ached, but I pushed myself further. The tedious motions of my arms lifting over my head and down into the water as I moved forward in the crawl stroke, tired me both mentally and physically. I wanted to stop.
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