Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series

by Vaiya Books

  “Good idea.” She was right about one thing; he badly wanted to prove that previous homeowner wrong. There was no such thing as a haunted attic and he wanted to confirm this truth to Hazel, as she seemed rather inclined to believe the ghost rumor. “I’ll think about it, Hazel.”

  Her face grew tense again. “Great.” Pausing to straighten out the carmine ribbon in her hair, her face suddenly lit up, her nervousness melting like frost on a sunny morning. “Anyway, just so you know, I love your costume, Ian.”

  “Costume?” he asked, equally confused and annoyed by her words, as well as bewildered by her sudden happiness. Was he talking to the same girl?

  She just grinned, only further baffling him: “Yes. You’re a gang member, aren’t you?”

  “No way.” He stared down at his black leather jacket and torn blue jeans and shuddered; how she got a gang member out of this, he didn’t know. “These are just regular clothes.”

  “Regular clothes?” she murmured, her sky blue eyes glimmering with mild excitement, as she tapped her feet lightly on the floor. “I never saw you wear that jacket to school before.”

  Suddenly uncomfortable, Ian tried to shake away his embarrassment. How would she know what he’d worn to school and what he hadn’t? Did she keep track of his whole life? He didn’t even want to know. “Ok, ok, you got me, Hazel. So my jacket’s a bit nice … but that still doesn’t mean anything.”

  But Hazel only shook her head lightly without saying a word, while laughing softly to herself.

  Disconcerted by her unreadable expression, Ian lifted off his baseball cap and fastened it on one of the many deep-red wooden pegs on the wall beside the rustic door, next to some other caps, a few jackets, and even a winter coat, as he thought back to Eddy’s bold claim not too long ago… that he was going to talk to Hazel or Tianna tonight. Although back then Ian had thought that he was just joking, his friend had definitely guessed right, and this made Ian rather suspicious, though he suspected that Eddy was just a lucky guesser and nothing more.

  Still though, it unsettled him, and as he returned back to Hazel, he half hoped that she would just finish her conversation with him and move on to talking to someone else, so he could leave before Eddy saw him chatting with her.

  Unfortunately, though, that wasn’t the case.

  Acknowledging his presence with a slight nod, she returned to the same topic with a zestful eagerness that made it seem like she wanted to talk to him all night. “Ok, I think I got it now.” She smiled slyly at her friend Tianna, who’d just joined the conversation and was listening to it intently. “You’re either an electric guitarist or a motorcyclist.”

  A lump in his throat, he strangled the malaise clouding his mind. Why did she have to be so persistent? Though he didn’t think it were possible, he was actually starting to get angry with her. “No … I’m not supposed to be anyone. I’m just being myself.”

  Curiosity imprinted itself onto her face as she gazed at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Yourself? Do you always dress like this?”

  Ian had had enough; he grit his teeth, not even knowing why he was so upset, yet badly wanting this conversation to end … and quickly. “Of course not,” he murmured angrily, entirely flustered. “But this is normal apparel for a party.”

  At the word “apparel”, a wide grin burst forth on her face, a faint blush arising on her cheeks. He knew he’d said something wrong. “Apparel, Ian? Really?” She spun a finger in her long hair, her face aglow with impishness. “Since when did you become a gentleman?” She burst out laughing, as the eyes of her friends descended upon Ian and laughter resounded throughout the room.

  Trying to recompose himself in front of everyone, he leaned his back against the wall, uneasiness wrapping itself around him like a boa constrictor. “I didn’t,” he refuted her question. “That sort of slipped out.” His hands shifted in his pockets, his neck stiffer than usual; glancing at Hazel who still looked unsatisfied with his excuse, he sighed and tried to further justify himself: “Ok, I guess you could say I’m still a bit overwhelmed by all the gallantry …” He coughed into his hand, hoping she hadn’t caught his second slip up, before quickly adding, “Scenery outside. That’s all.”

  Looking worriedly at Hazel, Ian saw her burst out into even heartier laughter and knew she’d caught his mistake; she never let anything slide. His cheeks burned a deeper red. Apparel? Gallantry? Where were these stray words coming from? English class?

  As Hazel calmed down, Ian watching her with dread, she examined at him, a mock frown on her face. “You’ve been reading way too many fairy tales, Ian,” she chided sarcastically. Then her face lit up with a pixyish smile as she gazed at Ian sweetly and admiringly: “Prince Charming … gallant Prince Charming.”

  Embarrassment swept through his heart--he felt sick. “Are you kidding? I haven’t read a fairy tale since I was seven.”

  His comment didn’t faze her at all though, and she was just about to throw out enough playful insult, when Ian’s waylaid friends, Eddy and Darien, no doubt basking in the Halloween atmosphere outside and studying the decorations, finally stepped in through the open doorway, slipped off their shoes, and put them down softly on the Oriental rug.

  Looking up at Hazel, who closed her mouth as soon as he entered into the house, Darien greeted her with enthusiasm. “How’s it going, coz?”

  “Pretty good,” Hazel replied nonchalantly, as she winked once at Ian, likely implying she wasn’t done humiliating him yet.

  He caught this, as Eddy just laughed at seeing Ian standing next to Hazel. “You haven’t been teasing him, have you?” asked Darien.

  Her blue eyes sparkled innocently, as she halfway avoided his question: “Only as much as he deserves.”

  Darien liked her response. His mouth curving into a grin, he folded his arms across his chest, his head nodding as if in complete agreement with anything Hazel’s mind could concoct, while Eddy chuckled softly and slapped Ian gently on the back. Then, as if realizing that Hazel worked best when alone, he quietly left the room, Eddy tagging behind smirking at Ian with an “I told you so” look on his face.

  Left alone again, Ian, hating to end on such an awkward note, irritated that Eddy had seen him talking to her, murmured, “So, Hazel, what’s the plan for tonight?” Stepping away further from the doorway, he heard laughter and loud voices outside. More people had arrived, including Jeff Burnes, a tall burly short brown-haired football player, and Kenn Ashton, a dark-eyed brawny man with thick black hair the color of spilled ink and a dangerously tannish complexion. For some reason, even though the girls liked them, especially Shayla, he didn’t care for either of them, as they always seemed cold and aloof whenever he tried talking with them, as if they were holding some secret grudge against him.

  Backing away from them, as they glanced at him spitefully before quickly turning away, Ian gazed at Hazel, suppressing the rising resentment in his heart, as he awaited her reply.

  Looking deep in thought, Hazel folded her hands in front of her, not distracted by the noise, while swinging her right foot back and forth. She had calmed down considerably. After several more seconds had passed, she finally broke the silence: “Well, let’s see--there’s gonna be a ping pong tournament downstairs once everyone’s here, then maybe a bowling tournament, and after that everybody’s free to do their own thing.” Hazel paused and brushed her long blonde hair out of her face and behind her small, dainty ears before adding, “Oh, and if you want to check out the exercise room on your way to the attic, go right ahead.”

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Why would she even mention the exercise room? Did she think he was one of those weight-lifting gurus? Hopefully not.

  As he turned to leave, she stretched out her left hand, signaling him to stop.

  She smiled faintly again as he looked over his shoulder at her. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to challenge you at chess before the night is over though.”

  Frozen, Ian looked down at the floor with discomf
ort. Everyone in school knew he didn’t have a great IQ--and due to that, he wasn’t good at chess either; the two went together in his mind. “But you know I’m bad at it, Hazel,” he muttered. Throwing his leather jacket onto the mahogany sofa, he then popped up the blue collar on his dress shirt to hopefully dispel the frightful notion that he was a gentleman or Prince Charming. As bad as the gang look was, it was worlds better than being a chivalrous knight. “If I challenged you, it’d be a complete disaster.”

  “No,” replied Hazel, shaking her head, a smile drifting onto her face at seeing his popped-up collar. “I’m sure you’d do just fine.”

  Seeing no point in arguing with her, for it would only extend the awkward conversation that had already drawn far too many glances, he forced a “thank you,” told her he might play the game, and then coolly walked away from her, following Jason Miller, Samantha Wilson, and Amanda Whitman into the kitchen and then down a long staircase, anxiety rushing through his mind; if this was what it meant to be liked by a girl, then he didn’t want it--at least not yet. He wasn’t ready to have his every word used against him in such humiliating ways. He wasn’t ready to feel like a complete idiot. He just wanted to have a normal conversation, but so far, it wasn’t happening.

  As he stepped into the basement where a dozen or more people congregated, Ian, trying to forget the conversation, examined the basement.

  True to the rumors, it was spectacular, way bigger than any basement he’d ever been in before, and had a small bowling alley, two ping pong tables, and many other sports-related equipment set up throughout the area.

  As he took it all in, deeply impressed by its gigantic size, a foosball table caught his eye.

  Searching for an opponent, he spotted his friend Eddy, who was transfixed on watching Kenn Ashton and Spencer Gordon bowl against each other. Spencer, a calm, lean young man, who always appeared to be in control of every situation, never seemed to get competitive or angry, though occasionally he did get worried and stressed. Besides his anxieties though, he generally took things at a stride and seldom bragged on himself if he did well.

  Despite his good qualities, however, Ian rarely talked to him, as their personalities conflicted with each other at after turn and they seemed to be complete opposites. Besides, he always suspected that Spencer was too good to be true and that inwardly he was a horrible person. Even if this weren’t the case, he still didn’t foresee himself talking to the man anytime in the near future.

  Turning back to the game, Ian watched as Kenn knocked down all the pins, snagging himself a spare. Watching Spencer’s rather humble demeanor as he praised Kenn for his brilliant shot, Ian felt disgusted and shook away his thoughts of Spencer, before nudging Eddy, breaking his friend out of his game hypnosis. With only a little prompting, he then convinced him to play foosball with him.

  After only several minutes into the game, it was clear that Eddy didn’t have a chance, and a few minutes later Ian quickly beat him 10 to 2. Wanting a rematch though, Eddy demanded they play another game, and Ian accepted the challenge.

  Unfortunately for Eddy, this game turned out even worse than the previous: 1 to 10. Aggravated at the humiliating loss, Eddy told Ian that he was unstoppable with a teammate and that he was just having a bad day, but Ian ignored his excuses.

  After standing there, watching Eddy drift over to watch a ping pong game between David Hille, a logical, intelligent math genius who also, annoyingly enough, happened to be a star basketball player, and Aaron Karodi, a brawny runner back who seemed to live and dream football, Ian decided that he’d better leave the foosball table in case someone else wanted it.

  No sooner had he left it than Hazel traipsed downstairs in her flowing pink dress, woven out of fine silk, drawing the attention of several people.

  Smiling brightly at them, Hazel walked gracefully over to an Italian leather couch as if she were a fairy floating on air and sat down next to her cousin Darien, who gladly moved over to make room for her.

  After whispering something to Darien, she stood up and silenced everyone. Once everyone had quieted down, she spoke in her informal voice: “It’s time for some ping pong.” Her light blue eyes danced with playful joy, as she added, “And I think we should have a tournament--what do you think?” More than half of the people nodded their heads in satisfaction, including those currently playing their own games of ping pong, and those involved in other games.

  Pleased, she added, “Great. Just wait a second while I determine the challengers.”

  Once she’d given it some thought, she assigned all twenty-four people their opponents for the first round and the tournament began with her merely being a spectator. It didn’t seem to bother her though.

  After five minutes into each game, it was clear who the best players were as most games were completely one-sided. Some people, like Valerie Sandler, Coach Sandler’s middle daughter, and Eddy, played so poorly that they forfeited before their rival had even won; while others, like Darien and Kenn, played so skillfully that they had their audience captivated from the start.

  After the first round was over, there were only twelve people left. After the second, there were only six: Darien, Jason, Kenn, Samantha, Amanda, and himself.

  Hazel assigned teams again. “Jason, you’ll be challenging Samantha; Darien, you’ll be challenging Ian; and Amanda you’ll be challenging Kenn. May the best players win!”

  As the two ping pong games started simultaneously, Kenn and Amanda’s game temporarily postponed, Ian glanced at Darien, who was smiling wistfully.

  “Hey, Darien,” Ian murmured, rather confused, as they hit the ping pong ball back and forth gently. “You’re not even trying. Do you think I’m too easy for you?”

  “Perhaps,” replied Darien indifferently, as he hit the ball so softly that it just barely slipped over the net. Ian wasn’t fast enough to get to it. “You’re not bad though.”

  Stretching his arm across the table, Ian scooped up the ball, and refocused, before serving a spin shot to Darien. But it didn’t catch him off guard, and he returned it with such ferocity that Ian hit the ping pong ball way off the table.

  The rest of the game went pretty much like that, with Ian only scoring eleven points. Although in the past he’d only ever gotten eight points against Darien, this three-point record did little to salvage his pride. Though he’d always known Darien to be the better ping pong player, in public it felt more real. It hurt.

  Shaking hands with Darien after he’d lost, wanting to seem courteous, Ian saw a grin arise on his friend’s face.

  “Three point improvement.” He laughed, as he tossed his long black hair to the right side of his face. “You’re getting better.”

  “I feel like a loser,” he mumbled, not a bit amused, as he sat down on an empty bench beside Darien, who waited for the other match to end. “The other game’s not even halfway done yet.”

  Darien shrugged. “Don’t take it so hard. I practice every day.”

  “Yeah, but it still hurts to lose though.” Pausing, he shook his head around, irritation in his voice, as he whispered to his friend, knowing that Hazel would be deeply offended by his words if she heard them, “You know what, Darien … I honestly wish we didn’t even have this tournament.”

  A grin edged across Darien’s face. “Don’t say that. If you’d have beaten me, I’m sure you’d have loved it.”

  Hating to admit that his friend was right, he merely shrugged his shoulders, a growing habit of his when he didn’t want to talk, and muttered, “I’m going upstairs to get a drink.”

  “But there are drinks down here.” Darien pointed at a large wooden table set up to the left side of the staircase, which was filled with plastic cups, orange and black napkins with ghosts on them, plenty of snacks, and pitchers of pink lemonade, red punch, and water.

  “I can see that,” Ian said, distressed, as he glanced over at the pitchers of waters, “but I need to be alone, away from the crowds.”

  His friend nodded sympathetic
ally.

  Chapter 3

  Hurrying towards the basement stairs, just wanting to be all by himself, Ian felt a strong hand grab his arm. Startled, he looked up sharply, gazing disgustedly at Kenn, the black-haired athletic guy who inconveniently decided to block off the staircase entrance. He was the last person Ian wanted to meet right now, especially after such a humiliating defeat by Darien.

  “Good game, Hansen.” Kenn smirked aloofly, showing several of his white teeth, as he released his tight grip on Ian’s arm, his face a nice tan as if he’d just been to a tanning salon.

  “Yeah right. I only got 11 points,” Ian murmured angrily, wondering why Kenn always referred to him by his last name. It irked him … no, downright frustrated him. It was extremely unnatural. “That’s hardly a good game.”

  A sneer broke forth on his unwelcoming face, as his voice grew sterner, his words even more insulting. “You’re right. It’s pathetic,” he conceded all too eagerly. “But don’t let it get to you, Hansen. Not everyone’s a winner.”

  Shocked, Ian stood in profound horror as Kenn’s words, like brutal whips, pierced his heart, completely demoralizing him. He suddenly felt as if he weren’t good at anything and had no talents; he felt as if he had no friends and were a complete loser. This feeling made him lash out at Kenn. “Yeah, and so what?” snapped Ian, after a lengthy pause, rage seething from his eyes. “I still did way better than average.”

  Kenn only stared at him, eerie darkness in his cruel eyes, a wintry chill in his voice. “If Shayla hadn’t let you win, you wouldn’t have even made it past round one.”

  “I disagree,” said Ian, desperately trying to keep his cool. “It seemed like she gave it her all.”

  But Kenn’s coal black eyes lowered into narrow slits like a serpent’s, as his voice turned into a ghostly whisper: “She gave you nothing.”