Summer's Desire

by Olivia Lynde

His grip on my arms is starting to hurt, and I finally understand that he's angry. Why is he angry?! I'm the one who should be furious!

  I feel my own anger rising at the unfairness of his accusations. "Of the two of us, I'm not the one with the adaptive memory, Seth! I've forgotten nothing! Let me go!" I try to escape his hold. God, he's strong! "You're hurting me!" I shout, and he truly is—he's ripping my heart to shreds. Our past together may be forgettable to him, but I treasure every memory and it tears me inside that he doesn't feel the same.

  He lets go immediately but seems even angrier now, if that's possible. "You're telling me that you've forgotten nothing?"

  "Oh, there are some things I should have forgotten!" I challenge. "Some things not worth remembering!" I want to hurt him like he's hurting me, so I'm implying that I should have forgotten him, that he wasn't worth being remembered by me. Not after he betrayed me.

  He gets my meaning—I see it in the clenching of his jaw. I also see a flash of deepest anguish in his eyes, but it's gone so fast that I think I must have imagined it.

  Heavens, I'm stupid! Of course I imagined it! I don't have the power to hurt him; he's forgotten all about me the moment I left five years ago. He didn't write back to me and he didn't call me even once. I have to accept that he really doesn't care about me anymore. Maybe he never has, a voice whispers inside my head.

  But no, that's an unfair thought and I won't let it taint my memories of our past! I was important to Seth at one time, I do know that... and it is enough. He simply outgrew me. On that reflection my anger evaporates, leaving me oddly adrift.

  "You wanted to forget me?" he rasps out. I see that his anger is gone as well. If anything, he sounds... defeated.

  Forget him? Never! But there's no reason to tell him that, since he obviously chose to forget me. And I, too, have my pride.

  "I don't want us to continue fighting," I tell him quietly. "What's the point? It's all in the past and the past is gone."

  He's silent for long moments, watching me with his blue eyes blazing—searching, searching for something, I don't know what—and I grit my teeth and keep my face blank so that he doesn't realize how utterly devastated I am inside.

  "Seems like the past really is gone," he says at last. There's a note of pained finality in his voice now, and I hate to hear it, hate it so much that I want to take back what I said before, about it all being in the past.

  But it's too late. He's already moving away, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, leaving me alone.

  Like I always am, without him.

  * * *

  I'm walking to my last class—and thank goodness for it; I really need school to be over for the day so that I can get away from here and lick my wounds. After the confrontation with Seth, I moved through the rest of my day in a daze.

  I had Chemistry with Marcie and Dana, and after I created the scene at lunch (gosh, I'm such a dork!) and later appeared so obviously out of it, they kept throwing me worried glances. I somehow managed to mumble something about it being that time of the month for me, at which they looked at me with female understanding and left me alone, thankfully.

  See, that's exactly why I don't want to make friends! I don't want to have people noticing when I'm not all right, and becoming concerned, and requiring explanations. It's much easier not having to give account to anyone.

  And anyway, when push comes to shove, I know that I can only ever rely on myself to see things through. I've learned my lesson well and am aware that depending on others can only lead to a world of hurt. So I don't.

  I've reached the door to my classroom, and I glance at my schedule once again to make sure I'm in the right place. My mind isn't exactly at its sharpest just now, so better to double-check things. World History, 217. Yes, it's the correct classroom and I'm even a couple of minutes early.

  I go inside and instantly my body tenses tighter than a bow. My skin breaks into goose bumps and I know, I know even without looking, that he is in this room. I feel his eyes on me, boring into my back, and it's a miracle that I manage to keep moving. I choose a seat to his left, as far in the back as I can, but it's still not far enough.

  Why, why did I have to take World History? So okay, I already took American History classes my Freshman and Sophomore years, so I didn't really have any other choice—but at my last high school this was a Junior only class, so why is it a Junior-Senior class here?!

  I take a deep breath and finally raise my head. I know exactly in which direction to look, so I do, and my eyes find him instantly.

  Seth is sitting beside two of his jock friends who were with him at lunch, and those two seem to be joking around, trying to draw him in as well, but he pays them no attention. Instead he's watching me. His expression looks remote but his eyes are once again that intense blue they used to get in the past only when he was in the grip of some powerful emotion.

  Great, he must still be angry with me!

  A curvy brunette sashays up to Seth's desk, obscuring his face from my view. My eyes drill into her back with instinctive resentment, noting her inviting body language, her extravagant hand gestures, the way she provocatively leans down to him, presumably to whisper an invitation in his ear. Her freaking long hair continues to hide Seth's expression from me, and the green-eyed monster inside me claws viciously at my heart. But then the brunette straightens abruptly and walks away in a huff. My eyes and Seth's reconnect as if bound in each other's magnetic fields, and the green monster inside me goes quiet.

  Unfortunately, his continued staring makes his jock friends take notice, and they turn to glance at me too, seeming puzzled. The blond one with huge muscles mutters something in Seth's ear, which earns him a flat look. Impervious, the blond stands up and—oh no, he's coming toward me! Drat, I really don't need this right now! I look away.

  Where the heck is the teacher, he should have been here already!

  But he's not, and to my right, a rumbling voice asks, "Is it hot out here or is it just you?"

  I groan internally. Really? That's the best line with which he can come up? Well, he doesn't need to be smart too; he's super hot—even I can appreciate that, although I'm not attracted to blonds.

  I keep my head averted, gazing out the window. I know that Seth is still looking at me and now probably at his buddy as well, but I feel like there's a new, biting edge to his stare. I shiver slightly.

  From the corner of my eye, I see the blond move. He sits down in the free seat in front of my desk but turns to face me. The other jock with Seth, this one sporting coffee-colored, slightly curly hair, is also watching us. What in the world is keeping the teacher?

  The blond jock seems perplexed by my silence; by the looks of it, he hasn't had a lot of experience with being ignored by girls. Well, if he doesn't leave right now, he'll get an education!

  "Uh, darlin'? I was talkin' to you, you know. I'm Carter Matthews."

  I barely contain a snort. Of course he's concluded that I must have thought he wasn't addressing me—that being the only possible reason why frumpy me didn't jump for joy when Sex-on-Legs him deigned to approach me. The poor guy is deluded. I keep my silence.

  From previous experience I've had with guys hitting on me, I've learned that the best way to get rid of them is by simply ignoring them. I don't look at them, or I look right through them, and I don't engage in conversation. In fact, speaking to boys, actually telling them that I'm not interested, doesn't have as high a success rate in dismissing them. The cocky ones will take it as a challenge, the fact that I'm talking to them at all as encouragement. Ignoring them, though—that's the biggest blow to a guy's ego and it's rare that any of them comes back for seconds.

  The silence has lasted too long, so the blond tries again. "So you're new here. What's your name?"

  Oh, come on, give up already! It's not like he's interested in me; he's too hot to bother with me given the way I look now. I'm positive the only reason why I'm on his radar at all is because Seth was staring at me, and it's made
his jock friends curious.

  "So you're shy, right? Lucky for you, I've got the perfect cure for it," he drawls suggestively. "You and me, tonight, the back seat of my car. Sounds good, right?"

  Jeez, this guy is truly a piece a work! He doesn't even know my name, yet he's already propositioning me. He must be even dumber than I thought. And/or a total asshole.

  Again I don't react in any way, and he raises an eyebrow. Oh, take the hint already and leave! Seth's eyes are drilling blistering holes through me. I really don't think he's happy that his friend has lowered himself to talk to me.

  Carter is about to say something else, but the teacher—a thin guy in a corduroy jacket—finally arrives, so Mr. Sex-on-Legs closes his mouth and returns to his former seat. Thank heavens! The jock with coffee-colored hair welcomes him with a big grin on his face and says something that makes Carter give a baffled shrug. For an instant I think I even see Seth's lips curling in a satisfied smirk.

  I go up to the teacher to get him to sign my note from the secretary, and my already bad luck turns spectacularly worse when he asks me to introduce myself to everyone. I reluctantly face the classroom and all eyes are instantly on me, which multiplies my uneasiness by, oh, maybe a hundred.

  I've never been so aware of my ill-fitting clothes, big and worn and hanging on me like on a hanger. I look a total mess and it's never mattered before, this was my choice... yet now it hurts me to know that perfectly-put-together and perfectly-handsome Seth is looking at me, seeing me in all my dowdy glory, and finding me wanting.

  Just get this over with! Head lowered so that I don't accidentally meet anyone's gaze, especially Seth's, I whisper, "My name is Summer. I've just moved here. I'm sixteen years old and a Junior."

  That's all, just the bare, empty facts; nothing personal, nothing that really says anything meaningful about me. The teacher seems to be waiting for more, but when I remain silent he gives up and sends me back to my seat.

  The class is interminable. It almost seems as if time has expanded with the sole purpose of increasing my torment. I don't hear a single word coming out of the teacher's mouth; all I'm aware of is Seth's watchful gaze encompassing me. I peek a few times at him but I don't catch him glancing at me again; his eyes seem trained on the teacher. Still, I'm not fooled. I've always known when he's looking at me, for I've always felt it like a physical touch, and if anything, this awareness I have of him seems to be even stronger now than when we were children.

  Only now, for some reason, his gaze on me also creates a slow burn in my chest and butterflies in my belly. Maybe I've caught a stomach bug. And a fever. I really hope that's the explanation—I've never felt this way before.

  I look at my watch for what is probably the thousandth time in the last forty-five minutes and start to discreetly gather my stuff. The moment the bell rings, I'm up and moving and am the first to leave the classroom. A few minutes later I go out the high school's doors and head for the buses.

  * * *

  I'm sitting at dinner with the Andersons.

  After I casually complimented Louise on the food, she's just finished informing me scathingly that she didn't prepare it—they have a housekeeper coming in the mornings and taking care of such menial tasks as cooking and cleaning the house. Naturally.

  Now she's back to wearing the self-absorbed expression that seems to be the norm for her, and Greg is trying to make polite chit-chat, asking me about my first day of school.

  "It was fine." My tone doesn't invite further conversation.

  Still, Greg persists. "How were your classes?"

  "They were fine, too."

  "Yes?" Greg raises an eyebrow. "No difficulties at all in view of the fact that the semester is already more than halfway through?"

  "I have to do some compensatory assignments. I'm used to it."

  "What about the other students? Have you made any friends?"

  I start to say no, but then I remember Marcie and her group and think perhaps that answer wouldn't be completely truthful. So I compromise by saying, "Maybe."

  Jessica, who's been silently studying me all this time—though not with her usual expression of distaste, but rather as if she wanted to figure something out, which actually freaks me out more—chooses that moment to butt into the conversation. "Oh, I don't think Summer's had any time to make friends today. She's been too busy being a creep and stalking the hottest guy in school." She laughs nastily. "Like she'd ever have a chance with him! I mean, hasn't she ever looked in a mirror?"

  "Now, Jessica, that is a bit harsh, isn't it?" Greg tries to intervene, seeming uncomfortable.

  Louise chooses that moment to speak as well. "Jessica, you have to realize that not everyone can be as blessed as you are in the looks department. That doesn't mean that unattractive people don't have their own uses in society."

  Jeez, this woman is something else! Did she really say that, and with a straight face? Greg looks even more uncomfortable.

  I ignore the fosters and instead meet Jessica's insolent gaze head-on. "I haven't been stalking anyone."

  "Right!" She snorts, full of sarcasm. "'Cause it wasn't you who stared at Seth Lewis all through lunch like a total psycho and then made a scene running out of the cafeteria like you'd been shot straight out of freak hell."

  Well, she certainly seems to have observed the interaction between me and Seth very closely. I'd wonder why but I already know from Dana that she's obsessed with him, so she's obviously jealous. And most likely paranoid. I also note that, even though she's taken pains to exaggerate my flight from the cafeteria at lunch, she hasn't mentioned that Seth followed me when I left. She can't have missed it if she was watching us so closely.

  Yes, I can see it in her hate-filled eyes that she does know that Seth went after me, and it burns her badly. Good.

  "I didn't make a scene," I state quietly. "I just left in a bit of a hurry and I'm sure that hardly anyone noticed me. Why would they? In fact, why were you watching me?" That part has me genuinely baffled.

  "Oh, I have a great radar for psychos trying to move in on my territory." she says venomously. "And make no mistake: Seth is my territory. You stay away from him if you know what's good for you!"

  I'm about to give her some much-deserved home truths when Louise exclaims in a shrill voice, "I simply cannot believe you, Summer! Are you trying to steal Jessica's boyfriend?"

  I'm incredulous. "Seth Lewis is not Jessica's boyfriend." At this moment, I'm actually thankful for him being such a player and never committing to a girlfriend; I hate knowing that he's ever even touched Jessica.

  "Well, it doesn't really matter if this boy and Jessica are in a relationship already or are still figuring things out," Louise drawls condescendingly. "Jessica obviously likes him, so you need to stay away. Not that you could actually compete with my daughter." Looking at me, she wrinkles her nose in distaste. "Still, it's the least you can do after we've taken you in."

  I don't reply. What can be said in response to such colossal pomposity? But good heavens, this mother-daughter duo is like out of a bad movie! Meanwhile, Greg acts as if the last few volleys of nastiness that were thrown at me across his dinner table never happened.

  Luckily, everyone's finished eating, so I offer to gather the dishes as Louise obviously expects me to. I put them in the dishwasher, clean the table, and go up to my room.

  * * *

  I'm in my parents' bedroom.

  My Daddy lies unmoving on the carpet—dead from massive bleeding after being stabbed two dozen times in non-vital areas. His blood, pooling in a wide crimson splotch beneath his body, has spread so far that it's reached the spot where I lie on the floor a few feet away, immobilized by the thick tape with which the killer has bound me.

  And it's Mummy's turn now, and she's bleeding from a dozen deep cuts right in front of my eyes. She's whimpering in pain through the tape over her mouth, and I can't get to her because my hands and feet are bound, and I can't scream for help because I have no voice left after all
the screaming and begging that I've already done.

  Mummy will bleed out soon, and then it'll be my turn.

  I wake up in a cold sweat, my under lip bitten raw because of my attempts to choke back my cries.

  I'm terrified to fall asleep again after that vicious night terror, so I reach for my dog-eared copy of House of Mirth and start reading. But I'm bone-tired and eventually I lose the fight to stay awake.

  And the night turns into a ceaseless nightmare.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning as I alight from the school bus, I see Jessica standing with a guy close to the bus stop. Well, that's weird. What is she doing here? She glances at me, then leans into the guy and tells him something. Immediately, he turns to look at me too, and I give him a quick once-over.

  He's undeniably attractive. Tall, built, black hair, strong features. He's too far away for me to see the color of his eyes but near enough that I notice his sensual lips. Good heavens! I internally fan myself. Is there something in the water around Rockford—how come there are so many hot guys in this school?

  Still, the fact that this one is obviously buds with Jessica kind of overshadows all his hotness. Plus, I'm getting a weird vibe from them with the way the two of them are staring at me, Jessica whispering feverishly and the guy listening with a cocky grin.

  I turn away and walk into the school building.

  * * *

  I still have one class before lunch and I've stopped at my locker to change my books when out of the corner of my eye I see a guy leaning on the locker next to mine. I turn my head slightly and see the hot black-haired guy from this morning aiming a searing smile at me. If I were a slightly weaker girl, this smile would probably set my panties on fire.

  Good thing that I'm a hard-edged foster girl who well knows that nothing in this life comes for free. Especially not the smiles of hot guys.

  Still, I let myself sneak one quick look at him as I open my locker. I was curious earlier about the color of his eyes. Well, they're blue. In fact, now that I see him closely, he looks a bit like Seth, though definitely in a watered-down kind of way. He doesn't have even a tenth of Seth's effortless charisma. But then again, who does?