Finding Eden

by Camilla Beavers

  Chapter Four

  I can see him speaking, but I don’t hear a word. All I hear is the sound of my heart beating in my chest as I see the man from my dream walk into the room. The crowd ebbs and flows around him as if he is the moon and they are the sea, as if his presence dictates theirs.

  I don’t move, I don’t look away; I want to look away, but I can’t, I’m stuck. I feel as though he and I are connected on some basic level and no amount of evolution can change that.

  “Sahariel.”

  So quiet I can barely hear it, his name leaves my lips. I didn’t have to whisper though. I could have shouted. As soon as his name reaches my own ears his head turns immediately and his eyes meet mine. Then he begins to do the worst thing imaginable; he starts to move toward me and I begin to panic.

  “Eden, are you okay?” Brock puts his hand on my shoulder, pulling me from my stupor.

  “Seriously, you look like you’re about to have a panic attack,” Evaughn says, extremely astute.

  “No,” I begin to say, “I don’t- I don’t know. I just… I feel like I need to get out.” I fidget, my hand over my heart as I try not to make it obvious as to why I’m nervous. Then Brock’s eyes follow mine.

  “Is it because of the new kid?” He asks.

  “No.”

  Brock watches me with a worried expression and Evaughn sits there quietly.

  My eyes dart around the room looking for any possible escape routes, but none of them worked. I saw it in his eyes that he knew I couldn’t go anywhere, almost triumphant. My panic was rising with each step he took, and before I know it he’s right there looking down at me, his sea slowly ebbing away from the freak like the sea at low tide.

  “Hello,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m Sahariel.”

  He smiles as if it’s an inside joke that I already somehow know his name. I don’t think it’s funny. I frown at him. Pretty soon he’s frowning back, his hand still extended in a very awkward greeting.

  “Sorry,” Brock silences the awkward, “Eden is very bad with people,” he grabs Sahariel’s hand and introduces himself.

  “I’m Brock.”

  “And I’m Evaughn.” She waves from around her oboe.

  “And this young lady right here is Eden.” Brock puts his hands on my shoulders as he says this, trying to be nice. Sahariel then re-extends his hand out to me.

  I don’t extend mine. Instead I decide to ignore him. I know it must be some sort of practical joke. Let’s have the hot new guy hit on the not-so-new-hot-girl-freak. It’s a classic, and I hate it.

  Slowly I reach over for my things and stand up, pawing his hand out of the way and moving around him. Turning around to face my friends, I put my sunglasses on. Then I see something that makes me speechless. Okay, it wasn’t something I see, but the lack of something. Sahariel has no colors. At all.

  Brock reaches over and snaps my jaw shut. I guess it must have fallen open. No one else in my life had never not had colors, and yet here is this guy that has no colors at all. Oh, and I had a dream about him and somehow I know his name.

  I feel like I want to get to know him, but I’m annoyed with the situation. I don’t like unwanted attention, and the attention I am getting at the moment is definitely unwanted and unwarranted, and on top of it I’m confused; I don’t know what to do.

  Sahariel looks at me, his expression turning from amused to something I can’t read, and for the first time in my life I curse the colors for not appearing. I continue to stare at him. I don’t know what to do. I want to run, but I can’t. I feel like a deer caught in the head lights on an oncoming car. Then his face shifts to a mix of anxiety and concern.

  “Have I done something to offend you, milady?” He asks me.

  I’m in disbelief. Did he just say “milady?” What year are we in? What century? I do a quick check in my head. Yep, it’s the 21st century.

  My brow furrows and I give him my best “weirdo” look and I still say nothing. Then I do something my friends consider a social faux pas, especially with a hot guy. I turn and I walk away without a word.

  The world has gone quiet around me. It wasn't because Sahariel was following, but it was because as soon as I saw him I felt like no matter where on the planet he is, I will always know where he is. I am so aware of him that my natural hearing fades and everything else turns into a shallow murmur. Everything except for the sound of his steps behind me.

  I try to walk away from him quickly, but he keeps up. Seconds pass, and then minutes. With each step I take that he's behind me I get more annoyed. I concentrate on that feeling, because whenever I don't, an odd feeling of safety and comfort surrounds me.

  My fists ball up. I'm angry and annoyed. Why is he following me? Suddenly I stop. Spinning around, I decide I'm determined to get some answers.

  “I'm sorry,” Sahariel says, “I hope I haven't offended you. I was just trying to be nice. Can I try again?”

  “I-” I begin to say but he cuts me off, looking extremely uncomfortable doing so.

  “Please? I don't like making bad first impressions.” He rushes to say, “Please? Another chance?”

  I sigh. He seems sincere.

  “Fine,” I say and cross my arms, giving him an expectant look.

  Then he gives me the most brilliant smile ever, and as much as I hate to admit it, my stomach does little flips and my heart feels like if it doesn't shut up then the whole world will hear it.

  “Hi,” his eyes glow like liquid gold, “my name's Sahariel.”

  I try to remember where I put my lungs. He begins to look anxious again. I try to smile.

  “Hi,” I say back, hoping my voice isn't as shaky as I feel, “I'm Eden.”

  “Nice to meet you, Eden.”

  “Nice to meet you too”

  “See,” He relaxes a little, “isn't this better?”

  “I guess so,” I say, not sure to what he's referring to.

  We stand there for a few minutes in awkward silence. He stands still the whole time, as if he's used to doing it. I, on the other hand, shift from foot to foot. I don't like standing still. At least when I don't have to. I look over at him. Apparently I hadn't been this whole time. He's looking up and down the hallways, looking for what, I don't know.

  “Okay, now what?”

  “What?” He finally looks up at me.

  “Well,” I look around, “we're standing alone in the hallway doing nothing during the lunch hour. Usually people do things during their lunch break. And we're not doing anything.”

  “Oh,” he shrugs, “we could go back to the lunchroom?”

  “No,” I almost shout a little too quickly, “no, I'd rather just stay out of there. Evaughn would probably try to kill me if I went back.”

  Sahariel's eyes flashed for a short moment and then the look was gone. The unrecognizable look crossed his face so quickly I thought it was just part of my imagination. What could he be thinking?

  “Why?” He slowly asks.

  “Because I embarrassed her by walking away from you.”

  “How is that supposed to embarrass her?”

  I sigh. I don't want to have to explain this to him. It's bad enough he's already popular. The only thing worse than a popular guy is a popular guy who doesn't know he is. I look at him.

  “It's your first day and you're already popular,” I state. I hope I don't have to explain the whole thing.

  “Okay?”

  He stares at me. He obviously doesn't get it, and I don't know how he doesn't, but he doesn't.

  “Ugh,” I throw my hands up and walk away, “never mind.”

  And although I don't hear him walking behind me, following me, somehow I can feel him there. I feel his presence as if he is an extension of myself; like I know how my hand is in front of my face in the dark when I have my hand inches from my nose. I can just feel it even though I can't see it.

  I walk to my art class and feel him follow me in. But feeling his presence doesn't keep me from hearing the sneers
that are quietly whispered around me.

  “Oh my god. Do you see that? She's totally trying to ignore him.”

  “I wonder what he's going to do to her.”

  “You think it will be any good?”

  “Oh it has to be, just look at him.”

  “And look at her.”

  “Oh yeah, I know. It's tragic. But this is going to be good.”

  “Has to be.”

  I hear the words swirl around me, the agreements and conspiracy theories bouncing off the walls like bouncy balls. I'm nervous. They have to be right. Why else would he be following me around?

  Trying to me nonchalant, I quickly feel my back, part of me expecting to find a rude note of sorts, and a very small part of me hoping and praying that he likes me enough that he didn't put one there.

  My hand brushes my back slowly. All I feel is my jacket. Nothing else. I breathe a sigh of relief. But if it would have been a note I would have known it sooner. What if he does something else to me?

  I don't pay attention to where I'm walking and suddenly I've walked into my easel, my brushes and paints flying everywhere. I look up. The whole class is laughing at me. Sahariel must have put my things in the middle of the way so I'd trip over them. I look over and glare at Sahariel. He looks back at me with an innocent expression on my face and the whole class loves it. The only person who wasn't is Miss Brody. She helps me clean up.

  “Oh boy,” she grabs the tubes of paint and helps put them in my tackle box, “sorry that happened, Eden.”

  “It wasn't your fault,” I tell her, glaring once again at Sahariel even though he has his back turned to me. And as I'm glaring at him, he turns around and looks at me, as if he can feel me looking at him.

  He looks at me for a long time, but then his eyes leave mine and they scan the room. And I know from this very moment that this person is going to be the bane of my existence.

  “Way to go, Eden,” I talk to myself, “you're nice to one person and see what they do to you.”

  Chapter Five

  The next day at school isn't any better. I walk through the hallways aware of Sahariel the whole time. He walks just a few feet behind me and I'm on my toes waiting for him to try and do something to me.

  I walk into my science class which he somehow was able to get into. I'm not paying attention and I stub my toe on a desk and my books fall to the floor. Everyone starts laughing; everyone except for me and Sahariel.

  I bend down to pick them up and Sahariel joins me. I don't want his help. All I hear is the people around me laughing and the slapping of high fives. A guy sitting in a desk near us leans forward and pats Sahariel on the back. He tries to help me but I force him away, glaring at him. My life was enjoyable before he came along, now I feel too cramped, I feel like I can't breathe.

  Taking my seat, I can somehow feel Sahariel take a seat behind me. I take a deep breath and try to pay attention to the lecture, but I'm distracted every time Sahariel movies, as if I'm part of his ocean.

  The class is frustratingly long. Every five minutes my focus is lost because Sahariel decides to fidget. His chair scrapes against the floor, and although it's not a loud sound, it screeches in my ears lie fingernails on a chalkboard. Thirty minutes into the class I had enough.

  I quickly turn in my seat, “Are you done?” I glare at him, “Seriously, are you finished?”

  He just looks at me and doesn't say a word. I stare at him hard for a few more seconds and then finally turn around in my seat. I don't hear another noise from him.

  The bell rings, but it doesn't startle me, I'm staring at the clock. I already have my things packed, and I'm already out the door and halfway down the hallway by the time I feel Sahariel catch up to me. But he doesn't walk next to me again, he walks slightly behind, almost as if he's been doing it all of his life, like he's been trained to do it.

  I walk into the lunchroom and rush to the table where Brock and Evaughn are already sitting. I try to ignore the look on Brock's face as his jaw drops and his sandwich almost falls from his hand. I sit down and keep my eyes away from both Brock and Evaughn and my attention diverted from Sahariel.

  “Uh,” Brock is speechless, “what the heck?”

  “Please don't ask,” I beg.

  “No, I think I have to.”

  I look at him with the most pleading expression that I have, but it doesn't work. He just sits there and waits for an answer.

  “I don't know! He's just been following me around ever since I got to school today. It's starting to piss me off.” I shake my head and rub my palms across my face.

  The look on Brock's face, best described as annoyance, is slowly replaced with a different look; a look of worry. He reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. I see out of the corner of my eye as Sahariel watches closely, as if he's not sure if the act should be allowed.

  “He hasn't done anything to you, has he?” Brock asks in a concerned tone.

  “Oddly enough, aside from following me, he hasn't done anything. Well, scratch that, because he's been following me around, people have been watching like it's some sort of freak show and I'm the star.”

  “But no,” I reassure him, “other than those things, he hasn't done anything.”

  “That's good,” Brock reluctantly takes his hand back.

  I look behind myself for Sahariel, but he's not there. He's walked to the other side of the room and is now surrounded by the popular crowd. They're all patting him on the back, for what, I don't know, probably for following me around and freaking me out.

  “Well that was interesting,” Evaughn says as she finally speaks up.

  “I don't think 'interesting' is the right word for it,” I say.

  “Alright,” Evaughn pauses, “how about odd?”

  “Yeah that's a little better. But in all honesty I don't think there is a word out there to properly describe that situation.”

  I try to eat my lunch, but I'm painfully aware of every move Sahariel makes from me. Brock and Evaughn talk the whole time, but I am too preoccupied with my new internal GPS for Sahariel's location. Every time I look at him, and the more time I spend with him, I can feel that connection growing.

  Part of me, the very small part that sits in the back of my head and whispers to me and makes me feel crazy, wants this. I want so badly for someone to actually like me without any pretenses. Aside from Bock and Evaughn that is.

  Lunch ends and I walk to art, careful about my feet. I don't want to trip over anything today and get laughed at again. Just like yesterday, Sahariel follows me, but once we reach the classroom, he makes no move to move to the other side. He grabs an easel and sets up right next to me.

  “I hope you don't mind,” he says as he sets up.

  I shrug and shake my head. I don't care, but I am curious why he is so bent on being around me, trying not to get too hopeful. I sit in front of my painting, not sure whether I want to work on it today. I sigh and finally drag the sheet off, cringing as it lands on the floor. I expect something from Sahariel, but at the moment he's rather engrossed in his own painting. I breathe a sigh of relief and begin to work on mine.

  Halfway through class Sahariel takes a break and leans over and looks at my painting.

  “Who are you painting?” He asks quietly.

  “My mom.”

  “She's very beautiful,” he smiles and looks over at me. I wish I could see his colors.

  “She's dead,” I say after a few moments of silence, fingers rubbing the scar. I look into his eyes the whole entire time. I barely whisper it, but like in the cafeteria, he can hear me crystal clear.

  “I'm sorry,” is all he says.

  The rest of class passes in silence between us. I really want to know what he's thinking, but I don't know him well enough to ask him that question. I really wish I could see his colors.

  The bell rings and it startles me. My hand jolts just inches above my canvas but no mark is made. Sahariel's fingers are wrapped around my wrist, stopping my paint
brush from marring my painting.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling at him as he unwraps his fingers from around my wrist.

  “My pleasure,” he smiles and leaves the room without another word.

  I sit there are stare after him. I can feel the tingling sensation that burst across my skin when Sahariel grabbed me start to diminish from my wrist. I just can't figure out why he's doing the things he's doing.

  As I walk from art, I can't decide if I like him or not. Sahariel is constantly following me around, and I've become a total klutz because of it. I'm constantly tripping over my own feet and stumbling over non-existent obstacles. What makes it even worse is that there is always someone around to laugh at me and like Sahariel even more.

  The popular crowd loves him, despite the fact that he follows me around, sits next to me in every class, eats with me during lunch and makes no attempt at all to be popular. I watch every day as he makes no attempt to be friends with them, yet they seem to love him more because of it. It makes no sense to me. At all. But again, that little crazy lady part of my brain steps in and plows the fields for the crazy seeds that start up the does-he-like-me thoughts.

  Sahariel just follows me around school, somehow appearing out of thin air behind me when I walk through the school doors and disappearing randomly as I leave. He hasn't done anything to me, but I still can't figure out why he's following me. And after days of questioning, I burn the fields and freak out on him.

  “What are you,” I wheel at him, “a lost puppy dog or something?”

  He doesn't say anything; he just stands there and looks at me.

  “Well?” I huff and walk closer. I know he heard me.

  I stand a few feet in front of him, my arms crossed over my chest. I resist the urge to tap my foot as I wait for an answer, and as I do so, I look into his eyes.

  They're so gold. His eyes look like a thousand gold flecks sitting on the bottom of a creek bed, glittering and shining as the water runs over it. The light bounces off them in rainbows and I can't make myself look away. I feel like I don't want to, and as I stand there, I can feel that connection between us start to strengthen.