by Olivia Lynde
"Hello, Marcie. I'm Summer, and yes, I'm new. How did you guess?" I joke, smiling slightly.
She snickers as we rise from our seats and head for the door. "Please, like there was any chance for you to get lost in the crowd! Pretty much ninety percent of the kids at R.-High have always lived in this area. We all know each other. So trust me, new faces really stick out." Drat! That's not good.
"Plus, you're gorgeous," she adds casually. Then, giving me a swift, all-encompassing look and biting her lip: "Though your taste in clothes could kinda use some improvement."
We've reached the hallway by now, and on hearing her blunt candor, I can't help myself: I start to laugh. Which is unfortunate, as several passing boys turn their heads to stare at me.
I quickly tug Marcie away and tease, "So you don't like my style? Why ever not?"
She smiles brightly again. "My best friend Dana and I can help you out with that, no problem." Throwing a quick glance at the schedule I'm holding in my hand, she says, "Hey, you're in Lunch C too! Neat. You should come sit with me and my friends."
I open my mouth to refuse but she speaks before I can. "Oh crapety, look at the time! If we don't hurry, we'll so get a tardy slip. Know where to go for your next class?"
I nod, though I have no idea.
"Okay, see you at lunch!" She's already moving away with the flow of students.
I head in the opposite direction and arrive late for French. Fortunately, the teacher takes mercy on me on account of my being a new student and lets me off without a tardy slip.
* * *
It's finally lunchtime and I'm walking on shaky legs in the direction of the cafeteria. Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead in that crazy hub of student activity; I'd just spend my lunch period hiding out in isolated spots where I'd be sure to be left alone. Today however, I don't have a choice.
To my mingled relief and frustration, I have yet to catch a single glimpse of Seth even though after each bell, heading for my various classes, I observed the student traffic with avid eyes. I know I'll pay for not sticking to my usual routine of keeping my gaze on the floor to avoid eye contact with other people—I've definitely attracted more than a few curious glances—but right now I really can't bring myself to care about this.
I enter the cafeteria, careful this time to keep my head lowered, and discreetly look around. I spot Marcie sitting at a table just a few steps to my left and approach her hesitatingly; I'm still not sure this is a good idea. She sees me before I reach the table and smiles her wide, friendly smile. How alien it is to me, this constant cheerfulness shining so brightly on her face!
"Hey Summer, so glad you could make it!" She sounds genuinely excited at seeing me. Then she introduces the three other people at her table. "These are my friends Dana and Robbie, and Will, my boyfriend. We're all Juniors. Everyone, this is Summer, also a Junior. She'll join us for lunch. Summer, sit down already!"
Muttering an awkward, "Hello, everyone", I sit down next to Marcie, with my back half-turned to the cafeteria's entrance. Marcie's friends all mumble hellos as well and proceed to study me with open curiosity. I do the same to them.
Dana is a very attractive girl. She has strong, exotic features, though maybe just a bit too irregular for true beauty, and thick red hair. She's a real knockout and the complete opposite of Marcie in physical appearance; I hope she's not too stuck-up to be a good friend to her.
Marcie's boyfriend, Will, is a lanky boy with messy blond hair and a lively expression. His sharp eyes seem to miss little, if anything.
Finally, Robbie is a smallish guy sporting an even worse dress style than I do currently. I meet his gaze, and he instantly blushes and looks away. He must be the shy type.
Dana seems to have finished analyzing me. "So, Summer, what brings you to our wild, exciting mega-city?" She grins at her irony.
I keep my face noncommittal. "I'm in foster care, and my current placement is in Rockford, with the Andersons."
The girls both groan.
"The Andersons? So you're sharing the same roof with Jessica Anderson?" Dana asks with wide eyes. "Girl, I pity you!"
My lips twitch in reluctant amusement. "I gather Jessica is not very well-liked?"
"Well, it depends by who," mutters Marcie. "Her cheerleader gang and the jocks, or... well, the rest of the free world?"
"Come on, girls, she's not that bad!" says Will, but with sarcasm infusing his voice.
"You're right, Will. She's not just bad, she's the worst!" Dana agrees acidly. "She's a total bitch who's made it her mission to make life miserable for every pretty girl outside her posse. And don't even get me started on her posse—total airheads, the bunch of them."
"Mean, too," whispers Marcie. The way she says it, it sounds as if she's experienced some of that meanness first-hand.
"Besides,"—Dana again—"Jessica's a total man-eater." She wrinkles her nose in apparent disgust. "Anyone left in the football team she hasn't banged yet?"
"Doubt it," says Robbie. "Doesn't matter, anyways. The one she really wants is still Lewis."
The name hits me like a punch to the stomach, knocking the breath out of me. I lower my head to hide my reaction.
Luckily, Dana is all fired up to offer her opinion and draws everyone's focus on herself. "Yeah, Robbie, everyone knows that. As if! Jessica has not a chance with him! He's already had her for, like, two weeks Sophomore year, and far as I know, he never goes back for seconds. And seriously, why would he? And with Jessica? He can have anyone else he wants, in and out of this school!"
I am barely listening to her anymore.
The door had opened a few seconds ago, letting through a group of five tall, athletic-looking boys. They're now heading for a table at the other end of the cafeteria, where all the other beautiful (and probably most popular) students are sitting—Jessica included, I notice in a daze.
Helplessly, I return my gaze to the five guys as a force stronger than gravity draws my eyes to the boy walking in the middle of the group.
Seth.
My first, somewhat incoherent thought upon seeing him is: Good God, he's hot! He's always been beautiful, but maturity seems to have further refined his features and given them an air of aloof distinction. His face is beyond gorgeous and it is perfectly matched by his body.
Which brings me to my second thought: Good God, he's tall! He is at least 6'3'', at a considered guess, and moves with predatory grace. He's leanly muscled, not as bulky as some of his companions but stronger than any of them, I'd wager. Not to mention faster. In a fight against the others, I have no doubt that he would be the winner without breaking much of a sweat. He just exudes that kind of confident ease and self-assuredness. And an unmistakable edge of danger.
He has the face of a fallen angel, the body of a warrior and the presence of a prince. And, I instantly realize, he is now utterly unreachable to me. At this thought my heart jerks painfully inside my chest.
Seth has arrived at his table and sat down with his friends, turned in profile to me. I let myself stare at him unashamedly; all the other girls in the cafeteria seem to be doing the same thing, and with so many eyes trained on him, one extra pair will hardly matter.
Following the direction of my gaze, Marcie smiles at me, a little sadly. "Yep, that's him, all right. Seth Lewis, Senior, star quarterback of the Rockford Rams, and pretty much the king of R.-High."
"Lewis is an awesome quarterback for sure," Will confirms in a half-admiring, half-envious tone. "He's had scouts looking at him since his Sophomore year, and I heard he was offered at least ten football scholarships at colleges all over the US."
"Shit," says Robbie sotto voce. "Why can't we ever have lunch without football talk, for freak's sake?" Then, at normal volume: "All right, Will, so Lewis is okay at football. Whatever. Other than that, what's so damn special about him? I don't see why everyone keeps singing his praises!"
Will gawks at him in disbelief. "Jeez, Robbie, did you hit your head hard when you fell out of bed this morning?! L
ewis is a hell lot more than just 'okay' at football! Dude, he's the linchpin who's won our team the state championship these last two years!"
"Yeah, yeah, and for that he can get away with anything here in school short of blowing up the whole damn building!" says Robbie, aggravated. And I thought this guy was shy? "Even then, probably the principal would just pat Lewis on the back and go, 'That's all right, son, we're insured. You just go on making us proud on the field.'"
Marcie grins. "That's funny, but you may be kinda right too!" She turns to me to explain. "Principal Adams is, well... pretty much a football fanatic, and while Seth was captain of the team, it just so happens that the Rams had the most awesome seasons of the last twenty years. The principal all but bows and scrapes whenever he sees Seth."
"And the other teachers are just about the same!" Robbie adds explosively. "Like, Lewis used to skip school a lot. But did the administration or anyone, really, ever give him any flak for it? Hell no, they didn't, not to their damn golden boy! Then there's most of the students here; they're the worst with their stupid, star-struck awe of Lewis!" Robbie aims a meaningful stare at his friends.
"Hey, why are you looking at me?" Marcie whines laughingly. "I don't hero worship Seth Lewis!... I might be tempted to worship his body—but that would be, say, my constitutional right as a free American citizen." She twinkles at Will, who shakes his head in amusement.
Dana gives her a playful shove and smirks at Robbie. "Yeah, it's unbelievable how things sometimes happen! Like, take this A-mazing quarterback who's done the school and the whole town proud by leading his team to win state championship. Twice! Plus, he's gorgeous and smart besides. But instead of people hating him for all that—you know, like they obviously should—his teachers like him, and gasp, he's even the most popular guy at his school! What total unfairness!"
Robbie practically skewers her with his glare. "Like I said, I'll never understand why Lewis is so damn popular. The guy's scary! Like, weren't there rumors at one time about him having gangbanger connections? And everyone knows how he used to get into those God-awful brawls and beat everyone who challenged him to a pulp. These days, no one would dare take on Lewis in a fight—they'd be too damn scared! For freak's sake, there were even some rumors about him being in underground fights!"
"Uh... I don't think those were just rumors," says Will excitedly. "I mean, Lewis has been supporting himself for at least four years, right? He has no family to help him or anything like that. And don't tell me that, on his not-worth-talking-about salary as a part-time mechanic at Joe's Garage, he could've afforded that sweet BMW he drives."
"Besides," says Dana, "he dresses well. Not designer stuff but definitely nice clothes. Still, he could probably wear a sack and still look hot. Seriously, just look at that body... yum, yummy!" She licks her lips mischievously while eyeing Seth. I stare at her—hard—until she stops undressing him mentally, but judging by her grin, she's completely unrepentant.
Meanwhile, I try to process everything I've just found out.
Seth plays football—exceptionally well, it seems. No shocker there; the boy I used to know definitely had the physical attributes and the drive to be an amazing athlete (unlike me). And yes, he was always popular (again, unlike me), so the fact that he's grown even more so and that Rockford High is apparently his playing ground or "kingdom" or whatever doesn't come as a surprise either. I'm also not surprised that Seth works as a mechanic. He always did like cars and was good at tinkering with them (yep—unlike me; I'm also mechanically/technologically challenged).
But what about the rest: the alleged gangbanger connections and the second "job", as a fighter? Can those be discounted as no more than malicious gossip? His car, for example, he could've simply gotten on a good deal.
"Come on, guys," says Will, "let's not fill Summer's head with thoughts of Lewis being some underground fighting champion." Then, winking at me: "He doesn't need the extra boost to his reputation."
"Speaking of reputation..." Marcie meets and holds my gaze. She isn't smiling anymore. "Seth is pretty well known as a heartless player. He's had the most beautiful girls—more, I'm sure, than he can even remember—but he's never been in a real relationship. And he's never been exclusive. None of his girls kept his interest for longer than, say, a couple of weeks."
The ache in my chest grows sharper. Has he really become such an utterly rotten guy, seducing and abandoning girls all around?
"Oh, Marcie, don't be dramatic!" Dana snorts. "More girls than he can remember? Please! Seth hasn't had nearly as many girls as he could've, he's much too selective! And he may be a player but he's not heartless. He never leads girls on and he's made it perfectly clear that he's not, like, in the market for a relationship. So if, knowing this, girls still want to be with him—you know, deluding themselves that they will be the one to melt his frozen heart, or God knows what romantic bullshit... That's on their heads alone. It's not his fault that girls are always throwing themselves at him."
"Riiight, Dana," says Will, almost chocking on his sandwich. "Dude has it so bad!"
She grins ironically. "I know, right? But seriously, just look at that skank Jessica just now: she's almost falling out of her halter top—if that scrap of material can even be called a top—leaning into him! And on his left, Elle is practically trying to climb on his lap."
I don't look at either Jessica or the unfamiliar Elle. I still can't tear my gaze off of Seth. I'd hoped that I would see him from a safe distance and instantly be free of him. God, I'm stupid! I'll never be free of this boy; I'll always yearn for his presence in my life.
Seeing him, hearing my table companions gossiping about him, he seems to bear little resemblance to the boy I used to know. But even so, for some illogical, unexplainable reason, he still feels like my Seth. He still feels familiar and longed for and safe. I still feel the old bond between us, tugging at me as if demanding that I go to him, that I erase the distance between us. How can I feel like this and how can he not feel the same? I cry to myself in silent despair.
And it is at that exact moment—almost as if he's felt my presence, felt my eyes on him, and cannot ignore the feeling any longer—that he turns his head and looks straight at me. Our gazes connect, and even with the distance separating us, I sense flames leaping to sudden life in his eyes. Mere seconds pass but I feel like I've been drowning in him for an eternity, and my heart is no longer aching but is singing in recognition and utter joy.
Then one of the girls at his table, obviously frustrated at his lack of attention, puts her hand on his arm with a sinuous caress; and just like that I have a volcano churning inside me, dripping lava and burning me with the fires of jealousy.
But I have no right to be jealous, for he's not mine.
And with that painful reminder, I've reached my limit; I can't take any of this any longer. I stand up and, ignoring my table companions' bewildered looks, storm out of the cafeteria.
The hallways are empty and I'm walking aimlessly, with the only thought of finding a place where I can sit down and have a good cry. Then I hear the sound of footsteps following me, getting closer to me. Panicked, I start running. But whoever is pursuing me is fast and swiftly gaining on me; they're just a few paces behind me now.
And then I hear a simple name, and I know that I cannot run anymore.
Chapter 6
"Sunny!" I hear from behind me and I stop, my feet rooted to the floor of the deserted hallway. There is only one person in the world who has ever called me Sunny.
God, I can't do this! I'm not strong enough to face him—my former savior who became my destroyer! But I still can't move, and his footsteps are coming closer. How can I even hear him? I ask myself in a daze. In all the years I've known him, I've only ever seen him move as quietly as a shadow.
And then my sense of unreality deepens even further because he's already reached me and his hands are touching me. Gently, he turns me around so that I face him, and I tip up my head. Heavens, he's tall! And so outrageously
beautiful from up close.
Our eyes meet, and the way he's looking at me breaks my heart with the sweet burden of old memories. He's looking at me like he used to, like there is only the two of us in the world. Like I'm the answer to all his prayers.
I realize in this moment that as deeply as his betrayal wounded me, as much as I've tried to hate him for having forgotten me and all his promises to me... I could never do that. This boy is part of me, so deeply embedded in my heart and in every fiber of my being that I could sooner die than dig him out. I've always loved this boy and I always will. It was the memory of the look I see now on his face, focused on me, that has sustained me through all the years when I was alone.
"It's really you. It's really my Sunny," he says in wonder, and for the first time in more than five years, I don't feel alone anymore.
His Sunny. Yes, I've always been his. And he has always been mine.
I almost throw myself in his arms and beg him to allow me back in his life and to be my friend again. But suddenly his beautiful warm eyes shutter, becoming unreadable, and his formerly gentle clasp on my arms tightens.
"What are you doing here?" There's no inflection in his voice now, as if he were talking to a stranger. I immediately feel cold—though where his hands grip my arms, even through the layers of material, it's like my skin is burning.
"I've been fostered to the Andersons," I manage to answer.
"The Andersons?" He raises an eyebrow. "That's an interesting development. Anything familiar about the Andersons' house?"
His tone isn't inflectionless now, it's mocking. There's one other emotion in his voice as well, but I can't figure out which; the mockery has cut me to the quick.
I stay silent.
"Nothing familiar, then?" he asks harshly. "What an adaptive memory you have, to so easily forget the past. And your promises!"