Prophecy

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  I nodded.

  “Let me.” Justin took my book bag and tossed it over his shoulder. He palmed two books in his free hand and headed to my homeroom. If I had giant mitts like those, I’d leave the book bag behind, too. Together, those hands spanned the width of my waist. In the past year, he’d touched me more often, more casually, more protectively and I liked it. In the weeks since my summer break up, he’d carried me, spun me and playfully tossed me over one shoulder with those hands and he’d set me down, carefully cradled in sculpted arms, pressed to his rock hard chest. My cheeks burned at the thought. I pressed my mouth shut, thankful he couldn’t know the things I thought about him or the way his confident touches made me feel. We were crossing a line lately. A dangerous one. Even my mom mentioned the flirting last weekend after Justin came by for lunch. Flirting with my closest guy friend was weird. Having him flirt back was flat-out bizarre. It needed to stop.

  We cut through the lunchroom and skirted around a table of jocks befitting the title. One mimed the throwing of a football and a group of freshman girls clapped. Three guys in jerseys huddled up around a lunch table and made low, whooping sounds. I sighed, thankful for the freedom of my summer breakup. I used to be one of those girls.

  Kirk Fennel called to Justin as we passed. “What’s up, Maze?”

  Justin lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “Don’t pay any attention to him,” he whispered. “He knows what he lost.”

  Justin’s breath warmed my cheek as he leaned in close to encourage me. The gesture provoked Kirk, my ex-boyfriend, King of the Jocks.

  “Sloppy seconds, man,” Kirk scoffed.

  My traitorous eyes brimmed instantly with tears. Justin flashed him a middle finger and kissed the top of my head. A hush rolled over the jocks. We turned the last corner to my classroom and I blinked back the emotion before tears spilled onto my cheeks and everything got worse. Justin slid my bag off his shoulder. I nodded a thank you; my throat was too tight to speak. After three months of taunting, I should’ve gotten used to Kirk’s ignorance, but instead, each new insult piled the stress higher until I wanted to implode.

  I turned for homeroom and ran headlong into someone. “Sorry,” I croaked, careful to avert my tear-glossed eyes.

  “Pardon me.” A deep, unfamiliar voice stopped the breath in my lungs. He moved away from me, sidestepping, as I swiped a renegade tear. Grr.

  Justin turned around, watching the guy I’d collided with walk away. “Did you hear him talk?” Justin’s slow southern drawl made me smile.

  “Yeah.”

  Even in the space of two words, the accent was strong, nothing heard around Zoar or anywhere in southern Ohio. Truthfully, the only accent I’d heard in real life was southern.

  I pulled in a long steady breath as my composure returned. “Did you see him? All I got was a close up of his shirt.”

  Justin looked me over carefully. “No kidding. I think you’ve got a button print on your cheek.”

  The second bell rang.

  “Shit.” Justin turned and ran.

  I barked a laugh and ducked into my classroom. Justin was guaranteed detention when he got to his homeroom unless those eyes and dimples could get him out of it.

  Who was I kidding? He wasn’t in trouble.

  Mrs. Forrester took attendance, opened a paperback, and ignored us for the next ten minutes. I doodled and eavesdropped. Word of the Hales’ reappearance had saturated the town. My classmates speculated not-so-quietly about the fancy black car in the student lot and where the Hales got their money. Mobsters. Crime family ties. Tax evasion. Royalty. I’d heard all the possibilities already.

  “They’re Norwegian.” Rosie Krebs failed at her impression of the accent.

  Kristy Hines fanned her face as she spoke. “And gorgeous. Did you see them? Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.”

  My mind drifted to Kirk’s crude comment about sloppy seconds. We’d dated for two years and never made it past second base. This summer he’d had enough waiting. He started by pressuring me with the usual coercion tactics. I’d do it if I loved him. He needed proof of my feelings. Blah. Blah. Blah. When that hadn’t worked, he’d tried name calling. I was a baby. Immature. Chicken. Whatever. I’d considered breaking up with him but couldn’t bring myself to toss away two years of my life, even though the years weren’t awesome. I’d gone to the Fourth of July bonfire contemplating having sex with him to get it over with and end his nonstop begging and pestering. That’s how bad it had gotten. I’d been prepared to make a life altering decision out of annoyance.

  Allison had run late, per her usual, making us late for the party. The bonfire had raged. Kids filled every square inch of light around the fire. I’d wandered through the field, checking my hair and breath. I’d never gotten so many weird looks. Twenty minutes later, I’d found him in his truck with Hannah Snyder’s face in his lap.

  The bell rang and I dropped my pen. A few students snickered.

  For the past three months, Hannah and Kirk had been the hot new “it” couple and I’d been the school joke. Somehow, probably to make herself feel better, Hannah insisted she’d found me in the truck with Kirk the following weekend. In her version, they were together and I’d made the disgusting effort to win him back with oral, but he tossed me aside. Hence the sloppy seconds comment. Me, Callie Ingram, possibly the least experienced senior in school, had become the class whore with a snap of Hannah’s fingers. Pure magic. Of course, Kirk made no attempt to disprove the ridiculous lie. Even his stupid jock friends who teased me and called me a prude for two years had suddenly believed the bullshit and everyone did their share to help spread the lies. If anyone other than Justin and Allison was unconvinced, they didn’t say. No one wanted Kirk’s or Hannah’s vitriol aimed at them.

  I hustled to first period, head down, biting my tongue, and counting days until graduation. If Kirk confronted me again, there was no telling what I might say after ten minutes of fuming in homeroom. Anyone who stood up to his crew of jersey-clad jerks brought on the wrath of ignorance for all time. Smarter to wait them out than speak up. Let someone else cross their radar. Smarter, but there was my big mouth to consider.

  Kirk appeared at my side, pulling me against him as I walked. “Hey, sorry about earlier. We’re cool, right?”

  If “we’re cool” meant he was brain dead, then yes. I shrugged him off me outside my first period class. “Kirk, I know I broke your heart and you’re having a tough time getting over me, but I told you, we’re through.”

  A round of snickers rose up around us. Kirk’s face twisted into a scowl.

  I flipped my hair and strode into class. “Concentrate on trying to please Hannah, okay?” I’d pay for that later.

  I slid into my seat, imagining ways Kirk might retaliate. To my chagrin, the next person through the door stared me down with a look somewhere between disdain and curiosity. I silently cursed my life. I locked stares with him, ready to tell him what I thought of… Wait, who was he? My mind puzzled, overlooking the obvious. To make matters worse, he was enchanting. I pulled in a breath when lack of oxygen insisted. Not male model perfect or Hollywood hunky, but…something. He was something. Not a guy I’d want asking too many questions about my contentious relationship with Kirk, for sure. He stopped at the teacher’s desk and handed her a slip of paper, glancing my way, as the teacher signed his slip.

  “Hale.” Mrs. Potter examined her tiny laminated seating chart and pointed at me. “Take the seat beside Ingram. Welcome to Ohio History.”

  Hale. My heart leapt. I should’ve expected he was one of the Hale brothers, but hating on Kirk had scrambled my brain.

  His lips curved down as Mrs. Potter waved him off to sit with me.

  I narrowed me eyes. Jeez. After all the awful things I’d heard about him, we had an even playing field as far as I could see.

  He slid into the empty chair beside me. The room was small, set up for discussion, like most of the advanced classes. It was probably a close
t a hundred years ago when the school was built. Two rows of tall tables and metal stools served as seating, repurposed from wood shop when that class got better ones. There were twelve kids in class now.

  I smiled at the side of his head. “I’m Callie Ingram.”

  He turned his face my way and lifted his chin infinitesimally. He lacked the honey hued skin of the other students, remnants of their fading summer tans. His jaw was square in an interesting way and his face composed of long straight lines. The misty green of his eyes was something I’d never seen before. Reluctantly, I dragged my gaze away from his face. His shoes were some sort of canvas loafer, nothing anyone I knew would wear. Jeans. Those were normal, though his were perfectly crisp, not wrinkled from spending last night on the floor, like mine. Above the waist, he wore a blue and green plaid button-down.

  I swallowed hard and touched my cheek with one hand. His was the shirt I’d run into in the hallway. Maybe that was why he wasn’t speaking to me.

  Hannah arrived as the tardy bell rang. Kirk slapped her on the rear as she sashayed inside, looking victorious.

  The Hale guy clucked his tongue. “Looks like he took your advice and got over you.”

  I whipped my head around and my mouth fell open. He’d heard me in the hallway and threw my words back at me. His clear green eyes invited a response, but his expression was blank and unreadable. What could I say? A dozen things ran through my mind, none of which I wanted to say aloud.

  Hannah took a seat at the table in front of us and swiveled in her chair to smile at my new table partner. “Wow, Callie, stare much?”

  I glowered in response. For some ridiculous reason, it irked me that their golden blond hair matched. Hannah wore hers with platinum highlights and a streak of blue underneath, taking team spirit to a new level in case anyone dared forget her status as the football king’s girlfriend.

  I tapped my pencil erratically against the table, praying for class to start and the awkward tension to end.

  She extended her hand to the Hale brother at my side, pointedly ignoring me. “Hannah.” She wiggled her fingertips when he didn’t respond. Her sparkle polish twinkled under ugly fluorescent lighting.

  “Liam.” His voice was low and rough.

  Nerves slicked my palms and I dropped my pencil. Again. Embarrassed and hurrying to pick it up, I cracked my forehead on the desk. Heat shot up my neck and scalded my cheeks. I forced my eyes open, despite the pain shooting behind them.

  Hannah gaped at me, rolled her eyes, and turned away. Liam didn’t bother making eye contact, but his cheek lifted slightly in what I imagined was his wildest show of emotion.

  Finally, Mrs. Potter started class.

  “In the interest of keeping your attention and in the spirit of the season”—Mrs. Potter lifted a stack of books and moved to the front of her desk—“we’re going to spend a few weeks looking at Haunted Ohio.” She walked the aisle between tables, dropping small paperbacks on each as she passed.

  “We’ll concentrate on the long and significant history of each location during class, not the wild imagination of those reporting apparitions and whatnot, but you’ll be permitted to include those details in your papers, should you choose, so long as the paper is based on historical fact and relevant to this class.”

  “Now, who can name a historically relevant building in Northeastern Ohio and tell me why you chose it?”

  Every hand went up, aside from mine and Liam’s, and I wondered absently if we had the same historically relevant building in mind. I ran my fingertips over the book sitting in front of me, eager to check the table of contents. I dared a glance at Liam. If Hale Manor was on those pages, as Buddy suggested, what else about Liam’s family was true?

  Chapter 3

  I speed walked to Allison’s car before lunch and waited. The sun warmed my cheeks as I leaned against her hood, shuffling my feet in the loose gravel lot. Hot metal stung my palms. My stomach growled from missing breakfast, but I needed to see her alone. I dug the apple mom sent out of my bag and took a thoughtful bite. The past three hours had passed in an endless loop of gossip and drudgery. I took another bite, searching the school exits for any sign of Allison, who notoriously took her time socializing before she left at lunchtime for college. Allison would have the facts on my new neighbors. She defined diligent when hot guys were involved. My classmates had circled through the same fanatical theories about Liam’s family. Teachers, to my surprise, had seemed ambivalent to the Hales, almost obviously so, while students buzzed endlessly with speculation.

  From the little I’d overheard between daydreams of icy green eyes, Liam had a younger brother named Oliver and Oliver was the anti-Liam. I hadn’t seen him yet, but word was the brothers looked alike, with the exception of their general dispositions; Oliver’s being sunny and Liam’s falling somewhere between indifference and silent rage. Every girl noticed Liam’s unreasonable attractiveness. Most stared or whispered. Some dared attempt to make his acquaintance. All had been shot down irrefutably. It shouldn’t please me he was an equal opportunity hater, but it did.

  My heart stopped and restarted when I sensed someone near and, for one millisecond, thought it might be him approaching. Two breaths later, a pair of girls from homeroom came into view, walking through the lot, deep in conversation. The girls stopped a few cars short of Allison’s hatchback, apparently skipping lunch or the rest of the school day entirely. I looked at my shoes, hoping to blend in with the cars.

  The girl with the keys opened her door and stared in defiance at her friend across the hood. “He’s mean and I won’t speak to him again.”

  Her friend swung long black hair over one shoulder. “He’ll warm up. Look how sweet Oliver is. Funny too. Did you hear him talking about the weather in Iceland?”

  “If Liam wants to be a loner, whatever.” The driver scowled. “Fine. Be a loner. Don’t be a dick. Simple. Plus, the whole brooding thing is over. Congeniality’s in now. Maybe Liam didn’t get that memo all the way across the pond.” She slid behind the wheel and slammed her door.

  Her friend rolled her eyes before getting in the passenger seat beside her.

  Iceland wasn’t across the pond. Iceland was way the frack up north.

  “There you are!” Allison hustled through parked cars to my side. Her wide toothy smile said it all. She had information she couldn’t wait to share.

  I smiled, still pleased at hearing Liam had an attitude toward everyone, not just me. And Hannah. My enthusiasm slipped a little. “Get all the scoop you hoped for?”

  “There are two of them. Liam Hale is a senior and Oliver Hale is a junior. Both are super smart, kill-me-now gorgeous and Oliver played rugby back home.” Her jaw dropped and she widened her eyes for dramatic effect. “Rugby. Callie, how hot is that?”

  “What is that?” I teased.

  “Who cares? Did you see them? Girls are throwing themselves at both brothers. Ollie’s eating it up. Liam’s more reserved.” Her nose scrunched.

  “Ollie?” I raised an eyebrow. The family must travel because rugby didn’t seem like an Icelandic sport to me, not that I was an Icelandic expert, or that I cared.

  She pretended to swoon and lay over the hood, one arm across her forehead. “He’s delectable. I call dibs on Ollie.”

  “He’s all yours. He’s a junior. You spend half your time at college.”

  “He’s shiny, new and from freaking Iceland. Those things make up for at least a year of school, I think. Plus, some juniors are really mature for their age. You were. Ollie and I might be the same age, just in different grades.”

  I blinked. No arguing with that mess. Hot foreigner trumps age and grade. “Okay. What do you mean about Liam being reserved? I heard people think he’s mean.”

  She snapped up from her swoon. “Why? Did you see him? Wait. No. Did you talk to him?” Her hands fluttered around her mouth as if she wasn’t sure where they belonged.

  “He sat beside me in Ohio History. It was
awful. First, he saw me smart off to Kirk before class and then he watched me whack my face on the table after I dropped my pencil.”

  Allison snorted. “All your best moves. Slow down, tiger.”

  I lifted my bangs, revealing the light purple line across my forehead to Allison. I’d swiped powder from my compact over the bruise after class. The swiping hadn’t helped. It had kinda hurt, actually.

  I laughed. “Our actual first encounter was when I ran into him in the hall before homeroom. Like literally walked right into him.”

  “Ah, you. Nothing but graceful.” She smiled and hugged her notebooks to her chest. “We must work with what we have. Seduce him with your awkwardness.”

  “Shut up.” Laughter rumbled through me. The day’s tension had mounted to unmanageable proportions and lack of food made me goofy. The apple in my hand was down to the core. “I think my brain is on hiatus today. I’m more ridiculous than usual.”

  I’d battled with myself since first period over two basic things. One, what the hell was Liam Hale’s major malfunction? Would it kill him to be congenial? Good grief. It was rude and a little intimidating to ignore people, not to mention it fueled rumors his family was unstable. Two, why? Why? Why? Why did I care? I shouldn’t. I didn’t. I’d only had one class with him so far, and now that I knew what he was like, I could avoid conversation and eye contact. I turned my face away from the school in protest of his inexcusable jerkiness. Done.

  Except, I wasn’t done. Even as I fumed over his indifferent stares, all I wanted was to get another look at him.

  Allison checked her face in a compact mirror. “Did you tell him you’re afraid of his house and have been since birth? Not to mention all the ghost stories about it? Oh!” Her eyes went wide. “Maybe he can show you around the place and keep you safe in his room a while.” Allison made a kissy face and batted her long black eyelashes.

  I refused to wonder what kind of kisser he was. Probably a rude one.

  “He fits the gossip. He’s detached, unapproachable, and kind of douchey.” A pang of guilt hit my chest as I spoke the words. I’d never been the new kid and it probably wasn’t easy, especially in a small town where your family was thought of as criminals…or worse. The moonlit image of his house from the night before came to mind. “Maybe they aren’t a nice family. I thought I heard someone scream inside Hale Manor last night. It woke me.”