by P. R. Mason
Jerking my hand out of his as if scalded, I shouted, "What was that?" Before he could answer I scrambled up and stepped away from him.
Holden rose and took a step towards me with hand outstretched. "Eve, please don't be afraid."
My mind racing with wonderings, I stepped back again like an automaton.
"No, Eve," Holden warned. "You're getting too close to the edge."
Over my shoulder, I saw that the back of my foot was barely six inches from a drop of at least fifty feet. My eyes flew to meet Holden's. He must have realized I was frozen because he rushed to my side and pulled me to a safe distance from the edge.
Wrapped in his hug, I felt his hands caressing my back and I pressed myself to him. For a moment I rested my cheek against his chest. The familiarity of the moment both pleased and stunned me at the same time. Why?
But while I didn't know the answer to that question, I knew what I wanted to do next. Raising my head, I stared into his beloved eyes before lifting myself on tiptoes to press my open mouth to his.
Our lips touched.
In an instant, the touch became more insistent as our mouths pressed together in a seemingly seamless blending. Our arms wrapped around each other, the embrace was a wordless reunion. A first kiss and yet not a first kiss. Mouths moving together as if we'd kissed dozens of times before.
Too soon, the kiss ended, as Holden lifted his head.
His arms remained loosely around me. Gazing down into my eyes, he lifted one hand and brushed my hair back with a caress across my face.
"What's happening?" I asked.
"It's hard to explain." His smile was half frown.
"Try," I said, shaking him a little.
"I will but give me a little more time."
Nodding, I stepped back and out of his arms even though all my instincts said to never leave their shelter. The enormity of feeling had overwhelmed me and I had to put a distance between us.
This time I didn't get too close to the edge of the roof but just close enough to see the school lawn below where a familiar figure stood.
"Isn't that Mrs. Gazardi?" I muttered.
"Where?" Holden asked.
She seemed to be staring into the sky, not in our direction but off into the distance.
Glancing up, I noticed a movement. If it had been water I would have said it was a whirlpool. A whirlpool with bolts of lightning illuminating it. The swirling and turning of the clouds mesmerized me almost so much that I almost didn't notice the figure—a bird? If so, it must be a heck of a big one —flying toward its center. The turning and whirling increased.
"What is that? A tornado?" The night had been so clear and there'd been no warning siren. Even so, maybe we should take cover.
"It's just a strange cloud formation," Holden assured me, but there was something guarded in his expression and tone as he said it.
Maybe Mrs. Gazardi would know what the peculiar whirlpool was. I searched the lawn with my eyes and found her. Would she run back into the school screaming in fear? No. She remained still but the inner illumination was back. Mrs. Gazardi's skeleton glowed. This time there was no lighting I could blame for an optical illusion. An involuntary shiver ran through me.
The whirlpool in the sky closed up and faded away. The cloud separated into wisps that drifted apart until the night was completely clear again.
Mrs. Gazardi's inner light faded as the sky returned to normal.
"Something's weird about her tonight." Or else about me, I thought.
As if she heard me, Mrs. Gazardi's head whipped around. Her eyes blazed up at me, burning with their red glow until a sudden faintness overwhelmed me. I swayed, hovering on the brink of falling over into nothingness.
Chapter Three
Holden grabbed my shoulders from behind and pulled me from the edge for the second time that night.
"Let's get inside," he said.
We were off the roof and back down the stairs before I could make any sense of my thoughts. Mumbling something about being right back, I escaped into the girls' restroom.
The fluorescent light fixture buzzed audibly, winking twice, as I stumbled over to the bank of sinks under the mirror. No one else was in there, giving it a surreal atmosphere. I twisted the faucet handles and the water burst out in a sputter before slowing to a trickle as it ran over my hands.
My reflection didn't seem like my own, as I stared into the mirror. Talk about deer-in-the-headlights expression.
What the heck was happening tonight? There'd never been any insanity in my family, but I was starting to suspect something was wrong with me. Strange psychic connection with a guy I just met? A tornado that's there and gone in less than a minute? My guidance counselor lighting up like a glow stick?
Tendrils of hair had escaped my ponytail, and not in an attractive, casual way but in a "I've been through a storm" way. But while I could redo the ponytail and trap all the pesky escapee hairs again, I couldn't do much else about my looks.
I was desperate to splash water on my face, but had to be satisfied with just wetting a paper towel and placing it on my neck. Anything else would wipe out what little semblance of make-up I had left and my face was enough of a disaster without that. Unfortunately, I hadn't thought to retrieve my purse and so had no access to even a lipstick.
Perhaps I could slip out of the restroom, get past Holden, pop into the gym, get my purse, evade Holden again, and escape back here to fix my face. It must be close to my curfew—which Dad would be furious if I missed particularly because of the SATs tomorrow—but I wanted to look half decent to say goodnight to the cute Viking.
Pushing the swinging restroom door to crack it open, I peeked around the edge. No Holden in sight. In fact, no one was in sight. The music from the dance still played, echoing faintly in the empty hall as I slipped out and tiptoed toward it, all the while keeping watch for my Viking. But though I'd taken a couple of turns, I didn't see him. He must have gone back to the gym. My purse—and my make-up—were almost within reach.
Up ahead was the intersection with the main corridor, which would take me the final dozen feet to my destination. At the intersection, a right turn would take me to the gym, but to the left I heard Holden's voice, his words indistinct. Then a female voice murmured.
Since I didn't see them, I concluded Holden must be talking to someone just beyond the elbow of the next corridor. But who? I wondered. Some other girl? Was he giving her the same line about how they'd known each other before?
My curiosity got the better of me and I turned left, sneaked my way to the next hall intersection. Peering around the corner, I positioned myself to eavesdrop. Just beyond, I saw Holden, his back to me, talking to Mrs. Gazardi. The way they stood with heads together struck me as conspiratorial.
"If it's to happen, I should take Eve with me right now."
"Not yet," Holden said. "I haven't had a chance to convince her."
"You've had all evening."
"It's not easy."
"The window of opportunity isn't that wide." Mrs. Gazardi hesitated before continuing. "Don't let your emotions get in the way. Do what you came here to do."
Holden examined the tips of his tennis shoes for long seconds before nodding. "Okay. But I just need a little more time. Just until tomorrow morning."
"9:18 a.m. at the latest. Your three days is up then."
"Yeah. Just stay outta the way, would you? Remember. You allowed her to see me."
"So?" Mrs. Gazardi said with an edge of sarcasm to the word.
"So that means she can see you too. The real you."
"All right, I'll be out of sight until tomorrow. But then I'm coming for her whether or not you accomplish your mission."
Reeling back, I gasped. My breath was like shards of glass cutting as it passed in and out of my lungs.
Mrs. Gazardi's head jerked up. The internal glow stick returned with a vengeance and when she grimaced the teeth behind her lips gleamed appearing like a sharks' in her head.
; Holden spun around, eyes widening. He went slack-jawed for a moment before he held up a hand as if surrendering.
For long seconds it seemed all three of us were frozen. Recovering first, I bolted down the main corridor, away from the gym. I ran for the front of the school.
"Eve. It's not what you think," Holden shouted from behind me.
Slamming into the push mechanism on the front door, I plowed through and out into the cool night air. The grass was slippery under my feet, so I changed course to the sidewalk. Holden caught up with me before I made it off school grounds, grabbing me around the waist and swinging me off my feet.
"Aghhh," I screamed, struggling against his hold. "Put me down."
"You could hurt yourself," he said.
My elbow made impact on his midsection.
"You were running blindly," he said. "You could get killed, not looking where you're going."
I continued wriggling and kicking, but his arms remained locked around me without sign of faltering.
"If I let you go will you agree not to run off into the street?"
After a few more seconds of fruitless thrashing, I nodded. His arms unlocked.
With feet firmly back on the sidewalk and a pout firmly set in my mouth, I proceeded at a march in the direction of my house a few blocks away. Holden followed a couple of paces behind.
My ballet slippers slamming against the pavement with me stiff-legging it along was, I'm sure, a ridiculous sight. It felt ridiculous. Besides, stomping like that hurt too, as the edges of the shells in the tabby cement mixture pressed into the slim sole of my shoe.
Looking over my shoulder, I observed Holden trudging along, eyes downcast to the pavement, his mouth in a morose frown.
We reached the end of my block. The front door of my house loomed as an escape route a few yards away but I couldn't help stopping. Turning to Holden, I stared at him until his gaze rose to meet mine.
"Are you supposed to hurt me or something?" I demanded.
He flinched. "No, of course not."
"How am I supposed to believe you?"
He shrugged, shaking his head. "If I wanted to hurt you I could have easily pushed you off the roof earlier tonight. I had at least two chances."
That was true.
"But when you were talking to Mrs. Gazardi. What was that about?" My accusation was sharp. I couldn't afford to weaken my guard just because I wanted to melt into a puddle of warm chocolate every time I looked at Holden. His cuteness was dangerous. "Are you helping her take me somewhere?"
"If Gazadriel was determined to take you, she doesn't need my help," he muttered.
"What does that mean!" I shouted, throwing up my hands "All you do is talk in riddles."
"I'm doing my best," he shouted back, his anger was the first I'd seen from Holden this evening. Before, I could get in another word, his whole face scrunched in misery. "I don't know how to do this," he choked out.
"Do what?" I asked in a whisper. Taking a step closer to him, I placed a hand on his arm. "I don't understand anything. I don't know what to believe about you."
"If you don't believe anything else..." Holden lifted a hand to place his palm against my face. His thumb traced the line of my cheekbone. His sincere eyes bored into mine—I couldn't look away. "Believe I wouldn't hurt you. I'd rather be damned for all eternity."
The intensity of the moment made it impossible to stay. As I backed away from his light touch, my eyes continued locked with his for one, two, three steps, before I turned and ran the rest of the block and up the steps to my porch.
At the front door, I peeked over my shoulder. Holden was where I'd left him, staring at me.
Not having my purse meant not having a key, so I knocked. Dad opened the door almost immediately.
"Honey. What—"
"Sorry," I pushed past him and into the entranceway. Pressing a kiss on his stubbly cheek, I continued. "Forgot my key." I didn't say where I'd forgotten it but that wasn't lying was it?
I was halfway up the stairs before he could respond.
"Didn't Quinn walk you home?" he asked.
"Quinn was a jerk, so I left him at the dance." I stopped midstride and turned to Dad with a smile.
"I knew I shouldn't have let you go out with that kid," Dad muttered.
"I can take care of myself," I said. Great. Now Dad wouldn't let me outta the house with another boy.
"You should have called. I don't like the idea of you walking home alone at night." Dad had been inclined to be over protective since my mother had left us two years ago. For the first time in a long time I really looked at Dad. Forty-six wasn't that decrepit. He had all his hair. He could pass for that guy on Mad Men. Dad should be dating.
"Someone else walked me home," I said.
"Did you have a good time?" He asked.
"Yeah, Daddy." Good time? That hardly seemed an accurate way to characterize events that felt life changing. I didn't know what to feel about Holden. My instincts told me to trust him. But how could I after the things I'd heard and seen? On the other hand, some of the things I'd seen were so crazy could I really trust my own senses?
"G'night, Daddy."
"Night." He gave a little wave and began to walk toward the living room. "Sleep well. SATs tomorrow. You have to be there by 10 a.m."
My Dad and his never ending quest for me to be college material. He wanted me to go to his alma mater but it wasn't gonna happen...not with my mediocre grades. But how to break it to him?
"Ummmm, Dad?" I said, stopping him.
"Yes, honey?"
"Ummmm. Nothing. See you in the morning." I would tell him then.
Dad shook his head "I have to go into work early tomorrow." At my groan he continued. "I know. Saturday. But I'll be home in time to catch a movie if you wanna go."
"Okay," I said. "Tomorrow. After the test."
* * * * *
As I turned on the water faucet to rinse out a glass the next morning, I glanced through the window over the sink. Outside, Holden was sitting in a wicker chair on the back courtyard patio. An unaccountable affection I couldn't quell even if I wanted to filled me at the sight of him. He still wore the same navy blue shirt and jeans he had on at the dance. Had he been there all night?
Opening the back door, I called out to him. "Hey Holden. Why don't you come in?"
He shook his head. "Your father—"
"He left for work already. It's okay."
He rose with a smile and came forward.
"I'm just finishing breakfast."
Holden strode inside shutting the door behind him. When he saw the kitchen table, he let out a bark of laughter.
"What?" I asked. "What's so funny?"
"That," he said, pointing to the box of cereal next to the milk carton and used bowl on the table. "It's funny because Lucky Charms is my favorite breakfast."
"Do you want some?" I moved to the cupboard to get a second bowl.
"Na, I'm...not hungry right now," he said. "But man I loved the Charms. It used to make my mom furious when she'd come downstairs in the morning and find me eating right out of the box."
"Didn't you use milk?"
"Yeah. But sometimes I was impatient and I just poured the milk into the plastic bag the cereal comes in."
"Omigod. You're terrible," I joked.
"Mom would be like, 'You're ruining the whole box' but I didn't care. It only meant I got to eat the whole thing. An entire box of Lucky Charms and a slice of cold pizza."
"Eww, what a combination." I crinkled my nose in distaste. "Of course, I already threw my pizza crust in the waste basket this morning. Don't get too close or you'll smell my guilty pizza breath."
We both laughed.
"Come here, pizza breath." Holden reached for my shoulders and pulled me to him. Bringing one hand to my chin, he tilted my face up while leaning down to me. "I need to kiss you."
Okay with me. More than okay.
His mouth covered mine, his full lips moving to send ripples of pleasure
running from my head to my feet. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I eagerly opened them. I was rewarded with my first French kiss.
Not wanting to break the spell, I nevertheless couldn't help wrapping my arms around his neck and running my fingers up his neck and into his hair. He seemed to enjoy my caresses. Holden groaned and the kiss deepened even more.
Finally, Holden pulled back and broke our kiss. With his arms still around me he smiled and licked his lips. "Yum. Pepperoni."
Suppressing a smile, I said, "But in my defense, I did use a bowl for the cereal."
This renewed his laughter and I joined in.
"I love that," he said when our laughter had died.
"The cereal? I thought we just established that."
"No, the little squeak you have at the end of your laugh. You always have that squeak."
"What do you mean by always? You said I always squeak."
A shadow of an expression passed over his face but was gone before I could process exactly what it meant. A grin replaced the shadow. His arms dropped and he walked to the other side of the kitchen table, putting it between us.
"Every time I've heard you laugh like you really mean it, you have a little squeak at the end," he explained.
"I don't know. A squeak makes me sound like a mouse," I said, forcing a chuckle. "Real attractive."
Holden stared at me. No laughter in his eyes. No smile on his lips. Utter sincerity. "You think your ordinary," he said. "Average. You're not. You're beautiful."
Suddenly, the pine plank of our kitchen table was the most interesting thing in the world and I traced the line of the grain with my index finger as he continued.
"You're funny, and compassionate and you care about others," he continued. "Sometimes I think you care too much about others. Sometimes....But anyway. This time, I don't want anything or anyone to stop us from being together."
"The way you talk, it's like we've know each other—"