She had saved me from social suicide my second day in D.C. We’d arrived on Sunday, but it had been so late, we’d gone straight to bed once we got to our hotel. Monday morning I’d pulled my hair into a tight ponytail, and had my most comfy bright pink sweats on, ready for a long day of touring.
As I left the room, Marybeth had called out to me, “Christy?”
I had stopped, holding the door open. “Yeah?”
“We don’t have time to work out.”
“Oh,” I said, looking down at my clothes. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“You’re not gonna wear that all day are you?” Her tone was not mocking, but concerned.
“Huh?” I said, looking down at my clothes again, feeling my face burn despite feeling her sincerity. What was wrong with my clothes? They were my most comfy ones ever.
“They’re sweats!” she almost yelled, exasperation lining her words. “And your hair’s in a ponytail—”
“Yeah. We’re going to be on the bus a lot of the day, touring, and I wanted to be comfy.”
“Comfy? Since when was being a hot girl comfy? You need to shine. Not wilt away.”
Did she just call me a hot girl?
“Look at yourself. With a bit of effort, you’ll look amazing. What other clothes do you have?” she had asked as she walked over to my closet.
Then she had taken over. With the little she had to work with, she did amazing things for me. Not only did she get me to be as fashionable as possible, using a lot of her own things, she had also put my hair down and straightened it with the coolest iron I’d ever seen. I’m sure Kira never would have given me the time of day at breakfast that first day if I’d arrived in my bright, pink sweats. I had been resistant to some of the things she wanted to do, like putting makeup all over my face.
“That’s okay, Marybeth,” I’d said. “We’ll be late.”
“You know, Christy, you have the longest, most fabulous eyelashes I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks.”
“The only problem is that I had to be two inches from your face to know they were there. You have to at least wear mascara. You’ll love it. I promise. And so will the guys.”
That was all she had had to say. If mascara would make Alex notice me, I was in.
When we had come down for breakfast, after she had performed her magic, I couldn’t help but notice that everyone had dressed perfectly. Most of the girls wore high heels and skirts and fancy jewelry. No one had worn anything remotely like sweats. They’d looked like mannequins in expensive store windows. Shoes matched purses and everyone’s faces were flawless. Kira waved us over to the table where the rest of the six from our group sat. No one had mocked me or made me feel dumb. Could the change I so desperately wanted come from something as simple as changing my appearance? It sure seemed like it.
The last three days she had loaned me a belt here, shoes there, jewelry here…Everyday at least one thing I had worn had come from her.
“That makes the outfit,” she had said, as she had put the finishing touches on me each day. And every day, as I had looked in the mirror to see the final product, I had had the same thought, “I look so different.”
Watching Marybeth lie there on the fountain made me wish I could do something for her. Maybe I should tell Mrs. J. what happened. Marybeth had been an answer to my prayers.
I couldn’t stop my thoughts drifting to the beheaded man named Jonathan, though. Did he have a family? Would they ever know what happened to him? Maybe they wouldn’t if I didn’t say something to someone. It seemed like the right thing to do, after all, the truth will set you free, right? My stomach twisted and contracted. Would this truth get me killed—just when things were looking up for me and I was becoming somebody?
A man with a backpack, that looked light, not weighted down with books, walked slowly past Kira and Rick and then looked directly at me for several seconds. When I focused on him, I couldn’t help but notice how his icy blue eyes contrasted starkly with his dark skin and hair. I stared back, unable to look away. Why was he looking at me like that? My heart would have won a marathon at that moment.
Why would he come to campus with an empty backpack if he were a student? Was I just paranoid?
I tried not to let panic overtake me, focusing on slowing my breathing. I watched as the icy-blue-eyed man turned the corner and went out of sight.
My imagination went crazy. Was he peering from behind the side of that building watching us or was he the first in a string of different tails—all watching and waiting? Would one of them kidnap us and kill us—or worse— torture us to death?
I’d read enough suspense novels to know this couldn’t be good. I was afraid to look in the direction the staring man had gone again, but I did it anyway. No one was there.
I stood, but it felt like my legs had turned to stone and it took forever. I clasped my hands together trying to stop them from shaking. Then, wiping sweat from my forehead and walking with deliberation, hoping not to bring attention to myself, I walked over to Rick and Kira. I looked at Marybeth, who had essentially been catatonic since the murder, and I knew that she would freak out if she knew of my suspicions, so I kept them to myself. I also knew it was too early to return to the hotel and meet up with the others, but I didn’t feel safe here anymore. I wondered where the other half of our group had decided to go hide out. What if they were being watched, too?
“Hey guys, I read about another really cool fountain over there. Let’s go see it,” I said, pointing north. It was all I could come up with, lame as it was.
“Really? How far is it?” Kira asked, pushing harder into Rick’s side.
“Not that far.”
“Whatever,” she said. “How much longer do we have to stay, anyway?”
“What time is it, Rick?” I asked.
“It’s seven: We still have about an hour before Mrs. J. comes down to breakfast.
“Let’s go see the fountain and then grab something to eat,” I said, hoping to entice them away from the college. “That way, if someone is following us, we have another chance to lose them.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Kira said, snuggling into Rick. “And no one’s following us.”
“It’ll make the time go more quickly,” I said with a smile, knowing she wanted to get back to the hotel.
“What do you think, Rick?” she asked, flashing her blinding white smile.
I was sure she always got what she wanted, just like she had seemed to have snagged Rick.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, his dark blue eyes lingering on me.
“Okay then, let’s go,” she said.
Sure, she’d go because Rick wanted to.
I walked in the direction of Marybeth to help her up, but Rick beat me there. Kira stood a few feet away sulking, her flawless face drawn out. I had been guiding Marybeth along ever since we left our hideout in the laundry room and Rick’s help was a nice bonus. He winked at me when I reached him.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem,” he said, helping her up.
Marybeth didn’t seem to be able to do anything on her own ever since the murder. She never said anything or even showed any facial expressions for that matter. Would she ever be herself again? I couldn’t help but selfishly wonder if I could get myself ready everyday and not make a fool of myself without her help. We walked in the direction of the made-up “fountain”.
If the icy-blue-eyed guy popped up anywhere else today, I would for sure know he was following us. I shivered involuntarily.
There wasn’t a fountain. Big surprise. At least we’d made it to a main street where it would be easier to catch a taxi. We hadn’t waited more than ten minutes when one dropped off two professor-type men in suits. We asked to be taken to a deli on Connecticut Avenue by Dupont Circle.
It was sad to leave Georgetown University. I would have liked to have stayed longer. It was like a piece of heaven, until that guy cast his shadow over it. I kept looking behind us to
see if we were being followed. The streets were packed with cars and taxis but there was no sign of him; I guess I was just being paranoid like Kira said, but the feeling of being watched wouldn’t leave me.
The cab driver let us off at a small, packed deli not far from our hotel. Rick, holding onto Marybeth, and Kira stood in line to buy some food. I took a table as soon as it became available and looked out the window, searching for the man with icy, blue eyes. I felt pretty lucky to have snagged the table I did, because it was stuffed into a cozy corner at the front of the deli. I didn’t think anyone could see me from outside, but I still had a great view of the sidewalk. The smell of bacon tempted me to eat.
Watching the masses of people on the sidewalk push along, my thoughts drifted back to the horrors of last night. I kept seeing the “leader” in the ballroom with the crooked nose. I pushed away the thought that he had looked me straight in the eyes. I shook my head for all I was worth and forced the image out of my mind. I wasn’t being rational. There was no way he could have seen me through that grate. We were way too far away, up that high. There was something so cold about his dark eyes, though, and I shivered despite the warm, stuffy air in the café and my suddenly hot face. I hoped the other three would hurry and get their food and join me. There was definitely a greater sense of safety in numbers. In books and movies, though, people were brave when alone. I wanted to be brave.
Someone with a bright yellow jacket walking by the café caught my attention, reminding me of what I wanted to be doing: looking for the guy I had seen at Georgetown.
I forced myself to watch each person. They were all so different: tall, short, white, black, tan, dark hair, blonde hair, and red hair. I didn’t want to miss him in the crowds, so I started to focus on people with blue eyes and dark hair. I questioned my ability to spot him. Everyone with blue eyes and dark hair looked alike. Did I really remember exactly what the guy in Georgetown looked like? For that matter, could I get that leader’s crooked nose out of my mind long enough to identify the staring man? I had never had a problem remembering words on a page or pictures of things in books. Could fear prevent me from remembering? Just as I began to believe I wouldn’t remember, I saw him, and knew it was him! My brain didn’t fail me after all.
Nearly overwhelmed with panic, but at the same time, fighting a very small part of me that wanted to catch him and confront him, I leaned farther into the corner. Could he see me? No. He walked in the direction of our hotel past the café, his view of me blocked. I shuddered at the knowledge that if he had been coming from the other direction, he most likely would have been able to see me through the windows, but he hadn’t, and I was safely hidden by a wall when he passed by me. I knew those icy eyes. I was sure. Just before he completely passed the café altogether, he stopped and looked through the windows. I ducked, feeling my eyes grow to the size of golf balls and pretended to tie my shoes. Where were the others? I couldn’t see them in the line for food anymore. I looked past the ever-growing queue, past the cash register and finally spotted them. They were behind a divider wall, just to the left of the cash register, and were getting their drinks and some napkins.
I looked back to the door. The staring man from Georgetown was still there, his hand on the door knob until someone wanted inside. He let go, but continued looking as if no one had disturbed him. Would he come in? How could I get my friends to stay where they were, so he wouldn’t see them? The divider hid them from his view now, but if they moved even two feet, he would see them. I felt completely useless and at his mercy. I didn’t like this feeling—I wanted to grab him, shake him, and tell him to leave us alone. But I couldn’t. Just like I hadn’t been able to stand up to the bullies at home in Helena.
What could I do to warn my friends? Different ideas flooded my mind, none of which would work. I saw Kira grab a straw and take a step in my direction, Marybeth and Rick behind her. My heart dropped. Thankfully, their progress was slow because people were constantly reaching in front of them for napkins and straws, getting in their way.
I glanced at the door again. I looked harder. He wasn’t there! Slowly, I raised my head and looked over the table and out the window at the front of the shop. He wasn’t there, either. Where was he? I should have felt relieved that he was gone, but instead, I felt worse. I realized it was almost better knowing where he was. Acid filled me. If he’d kept walking straight, he might have been somewhere between our hotel and this deli. What should I do? Should I tell my friends what I’d seen? At first, I thought I should, but then I wondered if Marybeth could handle it. “No, she couldn’t,” a voice in my head said.
Kira, Marybeth and Rick walked up to the table, interrupting my thoughts. I let out the long breath I’d been holding. There were only three chairs, and Kira pushed me over so that half of my rear was hanging off mine. Rick set a bagel in front of me, smiling.
“I guess I was hungrier than I thought,” Kira said. “It just smelled so good in here, I had to order something.”
I was a little envious of the fact that Kira hadn’t seen anything in the ballroom. She wouldn’t be scarred forever like those who had looked.
Kira opened the container she’d set on the table and dug into her Danish, but Marybeth didn’t even open her sack. I knew she must’ve been hungry, but she only sat and stared at nothing. I couldn’t blame her, food wasn’t in the forefront of my mind either, but I took small bites since Rick had been nice enough to bring me something.
The last time I heard Marybeth speak was when she hushed me on the toilet in the bathroom in the hotel where the man had been killed. I wondered if she would ever recover from what had happened. She needed a bit more backbone if she wanted to become a senator. Rick, half-way through his breakfast sandwich, paused only to take a big swig of his drink. I realized my hands were almost dripping with sweat. I had to keep wiping them on my pants. I didn’t have a clue how to deal with this. I needed some help. If I told Kira, she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret from Marybeth and I had to keep it from Marybeth if I hoped to get her back. Rick, on the other hand, would know what to do, but how could I tell him without upsetting Kira? Just then, she bumped me with her arm and gave me a menacing look.
“What?” I asked.
“Why are you staring at Rick like that?” she whispered, her mouth so close to my ear, I could feel her hot breath. “Cut it out! He’s taken.”
“I wasn’t staring,” I said, even though I knew I had been. “I wasn’t even looking at him. I was thinking.”
“Oh.” Her anger faded, and I thought she was feeling a little foolish. “Guess I was being stupid.”
“Yes, you were.” I smiled, trying to play it off.
“Were you thinking about it?” Kira asked in a normal voice.
“It?”
“You know, It,” she insisted. “You’re sweating like crazy.”
I felt my forehead and sure enough, it was even wetter than my hands had been before, and I scrubbed them on my pants.
“Yeah, I guess I was.”
“Forget about it Christy. No one’s following us. It’s really over.” She flicked her head back, making her curly auburn hair dance.
“You didn’t see it, Kira,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed.
She turned, her crystal green eyes flashing a look of anger.
“It will never be over for me. I’ll always wonder if someone’s following me.”
“I hear ya,” Rick said, his face earnest. “I’ll never forget it either. Hopefully, no one’s following us, though. Sorry, it’s so hot in here and I didn’t get you a drink. Are you sure you don’t want anything? Can I at least get you some water, Christy? I’ll go get you some.”
“No, really, I’m okay,” I tried to object, but he was already up out of his seat walking away. I tried not to watch him, but he did look good wearing those particular jeans.
Kira huffed. Curiously, I felt some satisfaction. She could be so irritating.
He spoke to the cashier and she handed him a
water cup. An idea burned in my mind. This was my chance.
“I’m going to get some more napkins to mop up all this sweat,” I said, reaching up and pointing at my forehead. Pull it together, I told myself.
I almost tripped over a chair leg on my way there, hurrying to catch Rick before he started back to our table.
“Sorry about that,” I called out to the man sitting in the chair.
“No worries,” he said.
Rick saw me coming toward him.
“I could’ve done it for you, Christy,” he called. “I know you like to do everything on your own, but—” His look was endearing, but a bit let down.
I signaled him to come around the divider to the drink machine with me.
“What?” he asked, looking confused.
I looked straight ahead in the direction of the drink machine and kept walking, trying to act like I wasn’t speaking to him. I knew Kira would be watching us like a hawk and didn’t need the added headache, even if it felt a bit nice to make her mad.
“What?” he asked again. He waited for his turn to use the machine, and I waited for a chance to get some napkins.
“Don’t look at me.”
“What?”
“Just listen. Don’t look at me,” I said quietly, but urgently. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“You have my attention.”
“Back at Georgetown there was a guy who walked by us with a backpack on.”
“There were a couple that I can remember.” A playful smile danced across his face. “We were at a University, after all.”
“Yeah, but this guy was different. He had icy blue eyes.” My heart sped up.
“Icy blue eyes?”
Watched (The Watched Series) Page 3