“But isn’t it your birthday?” he asks playfully.
I must be dreaming—how does he even know it’s my birthday? And why does he care? I watch him run his hands through his thick, lustrous hair and realize it’s very similar in color to his eyes.
“Come on, Alexa, it’s like the homecoming dance is scheduled on that day to celebrate your birthday. Okay, that’s cheesy—forget I said that.”
We both laugh.
“It’s my birthday, but my best friend is coming to visit, and we’re planning to go out to dinner. Maybe we’ll stop by the dance afterward.” I say this knowing there’s no way I’m going to talk Sheri into going to a dance. Sheri has been my friend for years, and she’s never been one to conform to high school life.
We grew up next door to each other until her father’s job moved their family to the Big Apple. It has been a hard four years without her, but at least we keep in touch weekly. The only good thing is that Sheri’s father promised her a car on her sixteenth birthday, and he kept his promise. Sheri uses her car to visit once a month. I’m really looking forward to seeing her this weekend. I can’t wait to tell someone about my crazy dreams and to be reassured that I’m not losing my mind.
“So, maybe I’ll see you there, Michael,” I continue. “Anyways, I need to run to gym class. Coach hates it when we’re late.”
He brushes my arm as he moves out of my way so I can get past him. I wonder if he meant to do that. I’ve never gotten that close to him before. The scent of Dial soap and an earthy cologne tickle my nose.
“Okay, you better get to the gym. I’ll catch up with you later.” He flashes a toothy grin and I run for the door.
Why did Michael ask if I was going to the dance? How did he remember my birthday?
The sound of my cell phone vibrating in my bag startles me.
A text from Sheri: OMG so sorry I have a family obligation Saturday night.
I text her back: No problem. BTW I need to talk to you!
I wait for a response, but nothing. I really want to tell her about the handsome man that visited me in my sleep most nights. I need to be reassured that I’m not losing my mind.
Lately, it’s weird between us ever since she got a serious boyfriend. Damon’s presence always trumps our monthly visits. Last time she drove here, she left early so she could spend more time with him. I think it’s ridiculous since she sees him daily at school.
Great, another lonely birthday while Mom works the night shift. Oh, well. Maybe she can take it off. She rarely takes any time off from work, though. She’s always complaining that they’re understaffed, and if she took off a night, she’d be afraid that patients would go untreated or ignored. Mom can be a little dramatic.
At least I only have one more class, and then home to study. I woke up knowing today was going to be miserable, but instead, it’s just plain peculiar.
Chapter Two
Surprisingly enough, the studying with Michael is going very well. It’s so easy to talk to him. He does know a lot about biology, so I’m sure he will do well on the test.
After studying for a few hours, Michael starts in on the whole dance thing again. He continues to pester me with questions like, “Why wouldn’t you want to go?” or, “It’s so much fun. Have you ever been to a school dance?”
The more he talks about the dance, the more I entertain the idea of actually going. He seems so genuinely excited, it’s becoming contagious. Homecoming is a big night in a typical teenager’s high school life. Why shouldn’t I go and enjoy it like most people my age? Just because I feel like an outsider doesn’t mean I have to act like one. This is something I would never do alone, but with someone—especially a boy—it could be fun.
“Fine, I’ll go,” I finally say. “You talked me into it. Also, I need to see the gym for myself. I don’t believe it’s possible to transform our old gym into a believable venue for a dance.”
We both smile at my admission.
Contentment fills me. Who would have thought committing to a high school experience would leave me so happy? Why had I never partaken before? It’s time I livened up my not-so-exciting life.
“I promise, you will not be disappointed,” he quickly says. “The gym always looks magical on dance nights, especially with it being homecoming. What about your friend from out of town? Will she be coming, too?”
“Actually, she can’t make it. She had a family thing pop up.” Even as I’m saying it, I don’t believe it. She probably wants to be with Damon. But even though Sheri can’t make it, the evening has the potential to be a fun, memorable birthday. Hopefully, Sheri will come visit soon so we can catch up. I’ve a feeling I’ll have a lot to tell her. I still can’t believe she hasn’t answered my text message from earlier today.
I also can’t believe that the more time Michael and I spend together studying, the more at ease I’m with him. It’s nice to get to know someone. Maybe I can get the hang of being social. I usually keep to myself at school because I’ve this weird belief that I’m constantly being judged. The kids in my grade are snobby and more wrapped up in what they have or want. I’ve never had the privilege to be extravagant, nor would I want to be. I’m just wired differently. I was also raised in a single-income household. I don’t have parents with trust funds and high-paying careers.
The only quirky thing I notice while studying with Michael is that he’s constantly staring at me. It’s so obvious that when I glance down at my book, I sense his eyes on me. “Why are you always staring at me? Shouldn’t you be reviewing the text as well?” I try, asking playfully, then instantly regret bringing it up.
“Um, I’m not always staring at you,” he replies hesitantly. “It’s just, sometimes I think you remind me of someone I know from where I used to live. I didn’t mean anything by it. Plus, you’re easy to gaze at,” he adds with a smirk that makes me instantly blush.
For some reason, we get along so well. It’s a feeling of comfort that only comes from knowing someone a long time. As for that last comment he made, I think he was just flirting; I’m not one hundred percent sure, but that’s what it sounded like.
“Alexa, what color dress do you think you’ll wear to the dance?”
His question catches me completely off guard. Why would he care? “I’m not sure. Why do you want to know?” I plant my eyes in the book. I don’t want him to see the confusion that’s probably showing on my face.
“Well, if we go together, I want to wear the same colors so we match—if that’s okay with you?”
Now Michael appears a little uncomfortable, so I quickly nod and smile. “Okay, sounds good.” A warm and fuzzy thrill spreads through me. I wonder if this is a normal experience for Mandy and her circle of friends.
Just as we’re wrapping up the session, my mother calls up from the stairs, saying it’s time for Michael to go home. I didn’t even hear her come home from work. I’m just glad that she received my text message that he would be here and not to embarrass me. I glance at the clock and I can’t believe it’s after nine o’clock. The time flew by.
I stand up, sensing his eyes following my every move. I open the door to my bedroom and he jumps up, wraps his arm around my waist, and guides me out of the room. The touch of his arm sends an exhilarating ripple through my body. I walk slowly to the stairs, hoping he won’t drop his hand prematurely.
We bounce down the stairs laughing at some corny joke Michael recites. Even though I don’t think it’s funny, I laugh. Which is what Sheri would probably call flirting.
At the bottom of the stairs, Michael turns around and peers directly into my eyes. “Alexa, thanks for helping me. Now I’ve absolutely no reason to do horrible on another biology exam. I’ll see you tomorrow. Do you want me to walk by and pick you up for school in the morning?” Still wearing the grin his joke has conjured, he waits for my answer.
“Yeah, that sounds great.” I don’t want to seem too eager, but I am. Sometimes it’s so lonesome walking to school everyday by myself. “Goo
d night, Michael.”
After I shut the door, I whirl around on my heels and just stand there for a moment processing what he asked me. Is this really happening? Could he actually like me?
My mother’s voice interrupts the firing squad of questions blasting off inside my head. “Alexa, honey, how was studying with Michael?”
“It was good. I think we will both do well on the test Friday. I’m going to bed now. Good night, Mom.”
“Night, honey, see you in the morning.”
I scale the stairs two at a time with a sudden burst of newfound energy. I can’t help smiling and thinking about how easy it is to talk to him, a boy. Maybe high school this year won’t be so horrible.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A smile. It’s been a long time since I’ve witnessed a genuine smile on my face. I almost don’t recognize myself but I like it. I already know tonight is going to be a challenging night to fall asleep. All I can do is think about his touch and how comfortable I am with him.
Who would have thought?
The smell of lilacs permeates my senses and makes it hard to focus. Once again, I’m sitting in a field of purple-stemmed, green flowers. The fresh lilac smell is so strong, I bring my hand up to cover my nose and mouth. I reach down with my other hand to touch the green petals. One by one, they fall off and float up toward the sky. I can’t keep myself from touching another; they’re velvety soft, unlike any type of flower I’ve ever encountered. I watch the loose petal sail high above me toward the cotton-candy-colored sky while the whispering wind tickles my ears.
Usually in these dreams, I’m watching myself from above. This time, I’m fully experiencing it. My senses are overloaded with the smells, textures, and noises.
I slowly rise to explore, one step at a time, my bare feet sinking into the ground beneath me as I venture toward the tree line. Thinking I’m walking over quicksand, I panic and hasten my pace, eyes on the honeydew-green leaves on the trees looming before me as they sway in a fresh breeze. As I distance myself from the flowers, I’m finally able to remove my hand from my mouth and take a deep breath.
My feet continue to sink into the cool ground as I trek deeper into the woods. The magenta sky swirls over my head and a thunderous roar rings in my ears. Daylight is transforming into dusk. I find the darkness a bit unnerving and change direction, heading back from where I came from. The orderly columns of the thin tree trunks line my way back to the field. I emerge stumbling as I catch my toe on a root breaking through the soil. Swiftly, I catch my balance and continue moving into the field. The three moons overhead begin to flicker with an intense yellow hue. Sweat beads on my forehead.
My heart pounds and exhaustion spreads throughout my body. I get this prickly awareness that someone is watching me, which only makes my heart pound faster. Too nervous to validate this dreadful alertness by searching for the source, I continue forward.
I need to wake up.
Now that I’m out of the forest and far enough away from its disconcerting darkness, I collapse to my knees. Goosebumps blossom over my skin and an eerie sensation gnaws at my gut.
“You shouldn’t be here.” The authoritative, masculine voice splinters the silence in my ears. I whirl to see who is there. But I see nothing.
Frantic, I jump up and draw a deep breath before turning a slow circle, seeking who might have spoken to me. I’m the only one standing there.
The darkness is disseminating over the field from the forest as if creeping toward me. I scramble forward, trying to stay ahead of the impending gloom, but my fatigue is growing and my momentum slows. I glance up to see that the three moons are no longer yellow; they now resemble giant, red fireballs that are snowballing toward the field.
I need to run.
I use every last bit of effort to flee. It doesn’t last long. My muscles throb and my legs slow. I physically cannot move anymore—my legs are useless and my lungs burn. I collapse on the field and bury my head in my arms, waiting for either the darkness to engulf me, or the fireballs to crash into me.
“One, two, three, four…” I murmur to myself.
Ever since I was young, I’ve counted to calm myself down. It works; my chest rises and sinks more evenly as I brace myself for impact.
“Alexa, you need to go home and wake up.” The familiar voice in my head sounds like that of the gorgeous boy with the blue eyes.
“Alexa, wake up!”
My mom’s voice pulls me back into reality, but my eyelids are heavy; prying them open is like heaving concrete pallets. Once they’re up, they lighten, and I blink a few times and find myself back in my bedroom. The framed photos of Sheri and I sitting on my dresser replace the field of purple-stemmed, green flowers. Exhausted, I raise my head from my pillow, which is a major feat…
“Alexa, it’s almost six o’clock!” I open my eyes again to see the light sifting through the blinds on my window. I can sense my cat Fluffy nearby, probably staring at me. Most mornings when I wake, she’s close by, peering at me as if she, too, is experiencing my dreamland. That would explain her skittish behavior lately. I sit up and turn around to see her perched on the edge of my pillow, staring at me intently, as if she knows what I just endured.
The smell of strawberry frosted Pop Tarts seeps under my bedroom door. That’s the telltale sign that I’m running late.
“Mom, I’m up! Jumping in the shower right now,” I yell down to her so she doesn’t come up and give me a speech about why school is important and how high school is only a few years blah, blah—every day is a new blah, blah.
I often wonder why school has to start so early. There have been studies completed on how teenagers should get eight and a half to nine hours of sleep daily. And that’s impossible when you add up all of the homework we get. I’m lucky if I get seven hours. To top it off, lately my dreams make sleep more work than rest. At least I won’t be distracted all day with thoughts of the blue-eyed boy from my dreams, since last night he was, sadly, a no-show.
I need to find something to wear that will impress Michael, but what’s staring back at me is a closet full of t-shirts in every color, a stack of jeans, and my go-to boots. I really want to wear something other than my usual. Moving the clothes around, I find a green tunic with the tags still on it. I slip it over my wet hair and wiggle myself into a pair of black, never worn, leggings.
“Perfect; this will be adorable with my black flats.” I can’t help but smile at my new outfit and the new me. I reach behind my head and tear off the tags, “I’m definitely keeping this.”
Quickly, I dart into the bathroom to style my hair. I can’t be late because Michael is walking with me to school. I wonder if he is as excited to see me as I’m to see him. I’m sure I’m reading way too much into our studying encounter, but I can’t wait to see him. A fleeting thought makes me nervous… What if he forgets to pick me up and runs right past me?
I shake it off, pull myself together, and continue trying to control the few frizzy, flyaway blonde strands still tickling my face. My green eyes stare back at me in the mirror with a glow of anticipation. The green from the tunic makes my eye color pop. Maybe Michael will notice? I roll my eyes at my own silly thought. Why would he notice?
Just as I finish applying my pink lip gloss, the doorbell rings. I fly down the stairs, stop at the bottom, and take a deep breath. I open the door. He is standing on the front step, wearing a welcoming smile. A surge of excitement washes over me the way it did when I stood in line to ride a roller coaster for the very first time. When he steps through the doorway, his height reminds me that I’m wearing flats instead of my usual military-style boots.
“Wow, your eyes, Alexa. They’re absolutely stunning.”
The heartfelt comment makes me blush. I guess he did notice. I smile in return and gather my belongings, quickly turning the subject from me with, “Thanks. How did you sleep last night?”
“I slept well. I’m a little nervous about the exam Friday. I always assume I’m going to do better
than I actually do. I go in thinking it’s in the bag, then a few days later, I get my test back and I got a C, or even worse, a D.” His smile disappears and a more serious Michael is staring at me.
I can tell this is really bothering him, and I sympathize even though I’ve no idea what it’s like to get a C or a D. Usually, it doesn’t matter if I study or not, because I always pass with an A. That’s why I’m number three in the class of seven hundred and twenty students. Part of me wishes I found the work more difficult so I could relate. Maybe then, other students would see me as normal. The only thing really difficult in high school, for me, is the social part.
The weird thing about school and tests is that I only have to see the material once to do well on a test. I have a great memory; my mom refers to it as my photographic memory, and she assures me that my father was the same way.
“I think you’ll do great. Plus, you still have a few more days to review the material.” I give him a quick nod and my best hopeful smile to confirm my intentions. I can’t help noticing how his blue sweatshirt pulls out the lighter hues in his brown eyes, making them appear a totally different color. He’s so hot.
“Alexa, don’t forget your breakfast.” My mother walks into the living room carrying my Pop Tart in a to-go napkin. How embarrassing. Now he’ll know my mom still makes my breakfast for me. If I could melt into the floorboards beneath me, I would.
“Thanks, Mom,” I mumble as she winks and hands me my still-warm Pop Tart. The scent of strawberry wafts up to taunt me, but I don’t dare eat in front of Michael. I place it in my bag and hope he won’t think this is too weird. I uncomfortably shrug, not knowing what to say. He smiles and opens the door for me. Just like that, we’re on our way to school.
The walk goes by far too quickly, with us both talking nonstop. It’s truly odd how much we have in common. He makes being me so easy. I wonder why we didn’t talk much last year in tenth grade. Most likely because he was the new kid, and everyone loves the new kid. He was always hanging with Mandy’s crowd, even though he wasn’t a jock. His “new” status held enough pull to get him into any clique he desired. This city has so few new people moving in, the popular kids cling to them like little bloodsuckers.
Deceit (The Stellar Series Book 1) Page 2