by Anne Violet
Enchant Me
By Anne Violet
Copyright 2011 by Anne Violet
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my father, stepmother Liz and sister Issabelle, I can never thank you enough for believing in me and for being there for me in good times and bad. Thank you for any editing you did and all the endless support that you gave in myriad ways. I love you guys.
To Zaneta, I introduce you as my best friend, because you are the best. I could say you are the wind beneath my wings but that would be inadequate. Rather you are by my side or more often than not, you are above me grabbing my wings and forcing me to soar to the next level. Thank you for believing in me and keeping me positive. Much love to you.
To RWA and more specifically Oly RWA, you are the most amazing organization of writers who support and help each other so selflessly. Thank you for all the great advice and critiques. Janette thank you for your great editing. If there any errors left it’s my fault.
To the p. patrol girls, you know who you are. Thanks for your inspirational fearlessness in life.
To Grandma Vi and Grandma Annabelle, thank you for helping to raise me. My sense of honor, kindness, honesty, and caring for the environment come from you.
To Mother Jackson, thank you for your love, kindness and pushing me to not give up on my writing.
To all other family and friends, new and old, whether we talk every day or lost touch, you have enriched my life. Thank you.
To L.R., may your every step in life be filled with love and happiness.
Last but not least to my readers, I hope you love Alexis and Christian’s story as much as I did.
CHAPTER 1
As if I needed another reason to hate school; the last couple weeks had been particularly hellish. Crescent Point High had become my prison and most of the senior class the evil guards that I did my best to avoid. There are times like today-- that it was impossible.
I had the dubious distinction of being the most hated junior of 2009, courtesy of my ex-boyfriend Nicolas Devereux. At this very moment, two of his best friends, Jenny Slater and Tanya Brown were already bearing down on me from the other end of the locker filled hall. They were both cheerleader wannabees but without a high enough GPA to qualify for the team. I sincerely hoped they’d work on that because I really didn’t want to have to deal with them for another year until I graduated. I fought the urge not to laugh--and won, at their fried, bleached blonde hair, high heels and short skirts that even a call girl would hesitate to wear. As they got close I ignored their hostile looks and squared my shoulders preparing for the inevitable impact when they accidentally bumped into me. But without warning the door to my sixth period yearbook class suddenly swung wide open and they smacked right into it-- hard.
I don’t know what was funnier, the surprised look on Mr. Agostini’s face or the two girls wheeling their arms like a pinwheel trying to stay upright and ultimately failing. I was laughing so hard that I could barely walk into the classroom. Mr. Agostini gave me a harsh look for laughing while two students were laid out on the cold tile floor with bloody noses and potentially a black eye or two, but I let the door close behind me. He could take them to the nurse himself.
Making my way through the desks to mine, I tried to contain the laughter still bubbling up inside of me. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me waiting to be let in on the joke. We were a close group and everyone here, seniors included, I would call a friend. Unlike Mr. Agostini and the rest of the teachers, they all knew the drama my life had become. Looking around at my friends’ expectant faces, I smiled. “A couple of girls were about to accidentally bump into me but rammed into our door instead.”
Everyone laughed with me but Jim Johnson, a senior, who for the better part of a year had been nursing a crush on me. I could tell it bothered him that I was still being ostracized. I hate to admit I was surprised that everything hadn’t blown over yet too.
Jim was sweet and smart with a blonde Zac Efron-ish look. Unfortunately I couldn’t dredge up any emotion but friendship towards him and luckily he wasn’t the pushy type. It would probably make my mom crazy happy if I brought Mr. Cute, 4.0 GPA, quarterback, home with me, although his traditional, conservative parents would call the cops if I showed up at their door. All they would see is my freakishly dark reddish hair, nose piercing, motorcycle riding and liberal attitudes. He looked at me with eyes filled with concern. “Maybe there is such a thing as karma after all.” He started to lean towards me, like he was feeling the urge to touch me in comfort, so I put my hands underneath my desk and looked at Michelle, my friend and our team leader. She divided us up as usual, the writers, photographers etc. and I was glad that Jim was part of another group, I didn’t want to even consider another boyfriend right now.
After class, Michelle caught up with me. She was tall and gorgeous but was also one of the kindest people I knew. She looked at me with big, blue, worried eyes. “You know, I really think you should confront the rumors. There is no reason you should have to deal with this for the last two months of school, or one and a half. Whatever,” she said, shaking her head as if that would help her to speak clearer.
I had no intention to spill my guts to the whole student body, so I ignored her plea and considered that she and Jim would make a good couple, attractive, kind and successful. Hmm…
When we stepped outside I couldn’t help but smile. It was one of those rare beautiful, sunny spring days in Washington. Even so, the cold breeze gave me an excuse to avoid her worried gaze and zip up my leather jacket. “Have you ever considered going out with Jim?” I asked without looking up.
When she didn’t respond, I glanced up at her. Her gaze had transformed into the penetrating gaze of the investigative reporter she was aspiring to be. I didn’t know which was worse. I inwardly groaned. “You will not distract me. Seriously, why won’t you defend yourself?”
I sighed and made a beeline for my motorcycle, my pride and joy, a Suzuki Hayabusa, one of the fastest motorcycles on the planet. After many years of babysitting and saving all the money I would get at the holidays, I was able to pay the small fortune that it cost, and all the excitement and freedom I got from it made it all worth it. Except as fast as it was, I doubt even my Suzuki was fast enough to escape my troubles. But maybe I could get away from Michelle--or not. She was right on my heels and apparently evasion wasn’t going to work. Just then my best friend Tina walked up and I tried to keep my expression from saying saved by the Tina but by Michelle’s raised brows, I hadn’t succeeded. “Tina, convince her to get off her high horse and deal with this.”
I looked over at Tina. I could read nothing from her expression but then neither could Michelle. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Argh, fine, but I am not letting this go.” Michelle tried to stomp off in frustration but she really was too graceful to pull that off.
“Alexis, did you want to come over and have dinner with my mom and me tonight? Your mom’s going to be out man hunting tonight anyways.” She referred to my mom’s newest crush on a local singer who had a concert tonight. While Tina was like a sister to me and I felt closer to her mom than my own, I had a feeling that I would be walking into a rumor intervention. Tina wanted me to deal with the rumors too. I wondered what had made her change her mind and then decided I didn’t want to know. All the sudden I could see Michelle running back up to us. Was I ever going to be able to leave the parking lot?
“Hey, I almost forgot. Could you go to the art show at Pierce College tonight and take some shots for Yearbook and the school paper? Crescent Point High has a couple of students that got top honors and are being presented with awards tonight.”
I nodded my head. “Sure, that sounds kind of cool. What time?”
“You should probably get there around 6:30, so you can find parking and the auditorium.” “No problem, see you tomorrow in class.”
“Thanks Lex, you’re a lifesaver. When I become the editor for the New York Times I’ll make you my head photographer.” I smiled at her confidence and watched as she loped through the parking lot back to her bus. Reluctantly I turned back to Tina.
As close as we were, Tina hadn’t missed my eagerness to miss dinner but she also knew that it was nothing negative towards her or her mom Tracy. “Alright, you’re safe for the night but tomorrow you’re spending the night so we can talk.”
“Alright,” I sighed as I put on my helmet. “Promise?” She demanded.
“Yes, you have my word of honor. Now hurry up, you’re going to miss your bus and I know you don’t want to ride with me.” Tina still hadn’t gotten over her last ride with me going 150mph down an empty, back road. Her look of horror was comical even on her exotic model-like face. Her half black, half Japanese heritage had given her a look that I was sure could sell millions of beauty products all over the world but she was completely unaware of it and probably couldn’t care less. She was going to be a doctor and had already picked out her college, her specialty and where she would intern. It seemed weird that she was still single. Tina was a little shy with guys but surely one of them should’ve snatched her up by now.
I watched to make sure she caught her bus and then rode off towards home. Men were idiots. It seemed almost a sacrilege to have a bike like mine and drive at the snail pace required in Steilacoom but one of the reasons my mom and I chose Steilacoom was because of how safe it was. Unfortunately that also meant the cops had way too much time on their hands and were eagerly awaiting the unwary driver-- or rider. While driving down the hill I decided to skip going home right away. Quaint, waterfront Steilacoom was showing off. This was definitely one of those days that Washington State outshined any other state in the nation. Steilacoom was situated on a hillside facing the south Puget Sound, which was a gorgeous blue, reflecting the sky with just a few white fluffy clouds in it. Even more stunning was the Olympic Mountain range. It was crystal clear today, snow still stubbornly cradling its caps. I never got tired of taking pictures of this view.
But today I was more in the mood for seclusion, so I rode towards a small beach called Saltar’s Point. It didn’t disappoint; no one was there. I parked in one of the few public parking spaces, grabbed my camera and crossed the small bridge down to the beach. I walked until I found an area where I couldn’t readily be seen, sat down on the gravelly ground and leaned back on the driftwood behind me. It was days like this I wish I lived in California; only because I loved the sun so much. If only there was a way I could transport Steilacoom to somewhere near Santa Barbara or San Diego. It was so quiet and peaceful here and the sun felt so good, lightly warming my face. I closed my eyes, feeling the wind gently lift and play with my hair, just luxuriating in the moment. I loved my hair being played with; it could be innocent or romantic. The very thought made me open my eyes and jerk upright. I needed to remember--I was boyfriend-less; there would be no hair playing or anything else for that matter.
Sometimes it was hard to believe how much had changed. Almost against my will, my mind drifted back to the beginning of the school year on that unfortunate day when it had all began. I had just finished developing my last picture for the day and was gathering my stuff to leave the darkroom when I felt a presence behind me, blocking what little light was in the room. Glancing up, my eyes connected with almost eerily light eyes. Ignoring the shiver
of excitement that ran through me, I let irritation take control. Besides sneaking up on me, he could’ve ruined my pictures.
“Lucky for you, I was done.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” he said enigmatically with the barest trace of a
French accent. Even in the dark, with that accent I knew him now, my only real competition in photography class, Nicolas Devereux. He was aggressive, intense and competitive. A real nightmare if you tried to go against him. I had seen him get in some explosive arguments with teachers when he had gotten a bad grade, especially if it was in art. Confused I stared up at him. How had he gotten into the room without me seeing or hearing him? I took a nice, safe, step away and then started to walk around him to the door. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me back in front of him.
He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “you don’t know it yet but I’m going to be your next boyfriend.”
I pulled away and looked up at him. Hoping that in the dimness of the darkroom he could see on my face how crazy I thought that idea was. I started to tell him that would only happen in his dreams when he snatched up my chin and planted the darkest kiss of my life on my lips. Mentally shuddering I pushed the memory away. The way things were now I couldn’t even remember the good times without panic threatening. The feeling of complete peace disappeared. Why did Nicolas have to make things so complicated and horrible? I grabbed a couple of pebbles and tossed them at the ocean. Things started so well and then he changed. Possessive and jealous to the point of being frightening, he quit his job and followed me to my dance class and anywhere else I would choose to go. He didn’t stop even after I broke up with him. I had to eventually involve my mom, who loved playing the part of enraged, protective mother. She went straight to his parents and threatened a restraining order on Nicolas if he didn’t stop, which he did. Unfortunately we couldn’t put an order on his mouth. He dropped out of school after that, thank god, and no-one had seen him since. Refusing to dwell anymore on the past I sighed, got up and brushed myself off.
Since I might get home late tonight, I needed to knock out all my homework before I left. I also needed to squeeze in yoga practice, shower, and get ready for the art show. I looked at my watch. I really needed to work on my time management skills.
Once I got home, I ran to my room and threw open the velvet curtains that hid my closet. Frantically I searched for my most professional yet artistic outfit, tossing the rejects on the floor. After finally finding the clothes that screamed ‘wear me‘, I turned to jewelry, choosing one of my smaller pairs of chandelier earrings, a couple of moonstone rings, and a tiny diamond stud for my nose. Then there was my hair, my one undisputable vanity. A lot of care went into it, to keep it soft, silky and yet so un-naturally colored. A red so dark in some lights it looked black with a couple of lighter red highlights around my hairline.
My mom hated it; she had begged then demanded for me to color it, but I refused to cave. Some kids did drugs and alcohol; I played with my looks. I think that was a pretty fair trade. I did a small basket weave pattern on each side of my head to keep my hair out of the pictures and pinned it in, pulling a couple strands down around my face. Last but not least, I got some of my black skin safe ink for my airbrush and picked a Celtic knot stencil and did a quick temporary tattoo on my right wrist. Now I was ready. Or I thought I was…
Abruptly I felt dizzy, my thoughts like glitter in some gypsy’s crystal ball swirling around and not settling. My temples started to throb and I collapsed on my bed. I found myself re
aching for my cell phone and was flipping it open before it even rang and put it to my ear. “Hi, Grandma Ann.”
“How did you know it was me?” she asked.
There was a weird note in her voice I couldn’t understand. That’s when I realized what I had done. I became frighteningly still, lifting the phone away from my ear and staring at it like the phone could explain how I knew it was about to ring or who it was without looking at the screen. The dizziness and headache faded away.
“Oh, you have that caller I.D. of course.” She sounded almost disappointed which struck me as even odder, but I grasped the excuse like a lifeline. Grandma and I were close; a lot of people had crazy connections like that, twins, mothers with their children. As far as the headache and dizziness; I probably just hadn’t had enough water today. “I was just about to go to an event for yearbook, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come over on Saturday. Have lunch and talk a little.” She made the last sound so pitiful I would’ve canceled a visit to Europe. “O.K. How about around one?”
“See you then, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I closed my phone and stared at it again. Hmph… Shaking off the strange feeling, I grabbed my wallet, camera and keys and headed out the door.
Feeling guilty for not arriving at the suggested time, I snuck across the parking lot, like Michelle was going to leap out at me from behind a bush, catch me being late and ground me and my camera from any further events. It was almost seven pm as I entered the college and headed for the auditorium. I could hear the hum of many voices as I approached. It really wasn’t a hardship to be here, I craved all things creative and loved being around people who felt the same way, but before I got down to any major socializing I needed to do my job first.
I quickly slipped into the room, pulled out my digital camera and searched for the Crescent Point High School honorees. All the artists seemed to be separated by media. The first student I came across I didn’t recognize from school but his card listed him as a senior, Miguel White. From the examples he had on his table, he did the most amazing pottery. I could tell he had used unusual materials to create unique designs and the detail was just ridiculously good. I waited until the small crowd around him thinned out.