Riley's Torment, A Moon's Glow Novel #2
Page 28
What was I thinking; of course she would.
I waited a few seconds, making sure they were still out of hearing distance before making my move.
Opening the door very slowly, I crawled out; looking around to make sure I was alone. Since my eyes had adapted to the darkness of the small closet, they now felt strained from the wash of light coming from the fixture above me. The hallway was clear, so I continued to crawl slowly on my hands and knees along the soft oatmeal-colored carpet, careful not to make any sound. The phone was just a couple feet away on a small oak table against the wall.
I was almost there when I heard a squeaky voice I recognized as Tara’s. “There she is,” she yelled, pointing at me from the other end of the hallway.
Crap. I stood up and ran as fast as I could for the portable handset. I picked it up and dialed my number quickly. My mom answered, “Hello.”
The words “come get me” rushed out of my mouth before a well-manicured hand reached for the receiver. I turned to see Stephanie slam her finger down, ending my call and the only chance of escape.
She smiled wickedly; her fierce blue eyes shot out imaginary icicles that filled me with fear. “This is going to be so much fun.”
Tara and Trudy held on to me while I pleaded with them to stop. I hoped that they would feel guilty and let me go. That hope was short-lived when I saw laughter in their eyes. They were just as evil as Stephanie was.
As I struggled, I felt the first cut, and some of my hair that had taken years to grow fall to the floor. I panicked, stomped on someone’s foot, and took off running. Fingers slipped from my skin. I was free.
“Get her, now!” the evil witch screamed. In my haste I tripped on the edge of the carpet, giving Tara a chance to grab my arm before I could get away, her pointed nails digging into my skin.
They held on tighter this time, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get away. I sobbed quietly as they chopped off my hair. My heart sank with every snip of the scissors. The strands brushed my arm and feet as they fell to the floor, feeling like soft feathers caressing my skin. I closed my eyes, hoping that was all it was, a pillow torn open above my head.
When the awful snipping sounds stopped, I opened my eyes to see most of my hair lying in clumps at me feet. I could no longer pretend they were anything else. I knew that the pile of brown clippings curled up along the carpet was mine. I stared down at it with a feeling of numbness. My long mane that I had taken such care of was now taunting me from the floor. When I was little, I asked to have long hair just like my mother. After that, she would brush it lovingly every night, buying products to keep it soft and shiny. She said it was one of the reasons she wanted a daughter, to dress her up and play with her hair. And now the remaining pieces lay on the floor, being stomped on by Stephanie’s open-toed red sandals.
They let me go and started to laugh. “I don’t think Ryan will be interested in you now. My goodness, Sarah, what happened to your hair?” she mocked. “You know, you really should stop going to your dad’s barber.” Stephanie’s sick attempt at humor made the lump in my throat threaten to grow.
Trudy and Tara laughed at her joke with twin high-pitched screeches. They were eerily similar, with matching grey eyes, black hair, and milky complexions. If Trudy wasn’t four inches taller than Tara, I’d think they were twins, although they weren’t even related.
I ran to Stephanie’s room, picked up my bag, and took off in the direction of the front door. As I rushed out, I heard her shrill voice calling after me. “Oh Sarah, are you leaving so soon?” And of course more laughter followed.
I stumbled out of her house into the night. In the darkness, I followed the walkway to the road, feeling embarrassed and angry, and an ache formed in my chest before the tears started to fall.
I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and started walking aimlessly. My tears were flowing hard, obscuring my view. My foot caught in a crack in the road, and I fell to the ground. My hands dug into the asphalt, scraping my palms.
I pushed myself up and continued walking.
Would this horror movie ever end? I hoped to wake up in my room, having dreamed the whole thing. Closing my eyes, I willed it to be true, but fate was not on my side; this was really happening. I was still here wandering the roads, praying I was heading in the right direction.
After what seemed like hours, I saw headlights behind me. A car pulled along the sidewalk, and the passenger side window slowly rolled down. “OH, MY GOD, SARAH! WHAT HAPPENED?” my mother yelled from the driver’s seat.
Chapter One
The Dream
The fact that he was present made me realize I was dreaming. In reality, he wouldn’t be caught dead talking to me. It was early evening, and I was sitting on one of the swings from my brother’s old swing set, staring up at the starry sky. It was peaceful, with a warm breeze gently brushing my face. My hair fell into my eyes. The scent of lilacs drifted in the air.
I had just pushed off the ground and swung upwards when I heard a creaking sound behind me. I glanced back to see him open the gate and walk into our yard. He smiled at me, his hazel eyes sparkling in the moonlight as he sat down on the swing next to mine. We sat together silently, swinging gently, looking up at the moon and the stars.
Suddenly, a bright light shone from behind us, followed by a very shrill noise…or was it a scream?
Thump, thump, thump. My eyes shot open. A banging sound came from somewhere, interrupting my sleep. I wasn’t ready to wake yet, so I threw the pillow over my head to muffle the noise.
“Sarah, get up, Mom’s been calling you,” Alex, my fifteen-year-old brother, bellowed from the other side of my bedroom door.
“I’m up,” I yelled, tossing the pillow aside and closing my eyes again.
I jumped at the sound of another thump. “Go away!” God, can’t anyone sleep in around here? I heard him stomp down the hall, leaving me to nestle under my covers to go back to sleep. Just as I was drifting off again, a thought appeared in my foggy brain; I was supposed to do something, wasn’t I? My eyes popped open, focusing on the dirt splotch on my ceiling above me left by a ball I had thrown up years ago. I knew I should wash it off, but I sometimes found myself staring up at it and seeing shapes in the dust. Once, after studying for a difficult biology exam, the shape of a happy face appeared. It made me feel better about the test. But now I lay staring at it trying to figure out what day it was, and then I did. It was Monday and I was late for school. Filled with panic, I jumped up to have a quick shower.
By the time I was finished getting ready for school, my mom had already left. There was a note on the kitchen table telling me that she had taken Alex to school and that I had better not be late. There was a threat in there too, but I wasn’t worried. She was pretty lenient—well, only when my dad was away on business. She was always joking with him that someone had to be the grown-up. My dad was more like a kid than an adult, more like a friend than a father. My brother and I were lucky in the parent department. Yes, my mother was a little more responsible than my dad, but we didn’t really have many rules. She trusted us to make the right choices. She was very good with guilt, so before I did something stupid, I would think of the guilt trip she’d lay out…and change my mind.
I took a juice box and a granola bar from the pantry, grabbed my coat off the hook, and headed out the door.
It was hot and sunny out and I instantly regretted the coat. Shaking it off, I ran to my car, a used silver-blue, two-door SUV I got for my sixteenth birthday. It was a bribe from my mother to make me go to Hadley Academy. Even though I only lasted at the snooty school for six months, I was able to keep the bribe. It was an older car, but that was okay, it had character. So what if the passenger side door stuck on rainy days, and it sometimes smelled of pipe tobacco? It was all part of the charm, and besides, it was free. I paid for the insurance and gas with the money I made working at the multiplex. With only a few shifts a week, I didn’t make a lot. But I was pretty good at saving.
I arrived at my school, Hamilton High, a large dull-gray stone building that slightly resembled a prison. Considering my last school, I was okay with its appearance.
Parking in the student parking lot wasn’t always easy, since I was usually late. I was often left with the spot furthest from the entrance, and today was no different.
Rushing to the front doors, I noticed my mom’s car, a candy-red convertible. It was her gift to herself after she turned forty. She worked here, unfortunately, as the vice principal. It’s not as bad as it sounds, having a mother that works at your school. With a building this size, I didn’t see her that often. This was my last year of high school anyway. In the fall, I was heading to NYU for their teaching program; I was going to become a music teacher. I had been playing the piano since I was five. My mother’s dream for me was to follow in her footsteps and become a teacher, so I thought combining our dreams was a good compromise.
I was running from my locker, after having put my bag inside, when the bell rang. Crap. I was late again. I’m not good with mornings, so this happens every so often.
Just as I turned the corner heading to my first period English class, I slammed into someone. Our sneakers squeaked against the white tile as we collided. A pile of books fell to the floor in a heap.
I bent down to pick them up. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, but the words were barely out of my mouth before the person took off down the hall.
It was a guy, and he had picked up his books so fast, I didn’t even see his face. All I noticed was the back of his head as I watched him run off. His hair was shaggy and brown, and he was quite a bit taller than my five foot five. The gray sweatshirt and jeans he wore weren’t helpful at identifying him either, since a lot of kids in school dressed that way.
“Miss Samson, is there a reason you’re loitering in the hallway when class is starting?”
Turning toward the voice, I saw Mr. Henderson standing in front of his classroom. He was short and stout with a receding hair line that made his forehead look gigantic. And since his glasses always fell to the bridge of his nose, no matter how many times he pushed them back, a few kids made fun of him. I, however, would never do such a thing.
“You wouldn’t want me to report you to your mother, would you?” he said in a snarly tone.
“I’m going,” I mumbled as I took off in the direction of my first class.
I wasn’t that late. The kids were just getting settled, opening their books and getting out their pens, when I snuck into my seat.
“You’re late,” Derrick, one of my best friends, whispered from behind me. Miss Reynolds, our English teacher, was just starting her lesson and didn’t notice him talking. “We’re meeting Emma outside today for lunch,” he whispered again. I nodded my head, focusing on the rest of the lesson.
My next class was my favorite, music, and part of the reason I liked it so much was the teacher, Miss. Fitzgerald. She had long auburn hair that was always pulled back in a braid, and she constantly wore long flowing skirts with peasant blouses. I once heard Mr. Henderson call her a Bohemian.
For the last week we had been studying a piece she composed. It was complex and challenging to learn; luckily, I loved a challenge. I was to play the piano for the piece and was excited for the night we would get to perform for the school and our parents. We were working on our own today, each of us learning our parts.
I was lost in the music when Miss Fitzgerald came over and stood beside me. My fingers stilled as I glanced up at her. “Wonderful, Sarah, you're doing great. I can’t wait to hear the whole piece. Julliard will be lucky to have you,” she said, smiling. Her arms were crossed in front of her as she leaned on the edge of the piano.
“Thank you, Miss Fitzgerald. But I doubt I’ll get a job there after college.”
“Sarah, you could be a concert pianist, and yet you choose to teach. They should welcome you with open arms.”
I blushed, unable to hide my excitement at her words, even though I couldn’t get my hopes up. I had always wanted to teach there, but I knew it was a difficult position to acquire. I would just have to wait and see.
Her words put me in a good mood, and after class was over, I headed to my locker, humming the tune I had been playing.
I had to ditch my books and get my lunch. As I fumbled with my locker door, my arms loaded with books, a blue spiral notebook slipped out of my fingers and landed on the floor with a thump.
I bent down to pick it up and realized it wasn’t my name scrawled on the front, it was Lucas Tate’s. His loopy handwriting was barely legible. Why did I have his book? I shoved it into my locker and ran outside to meet my friends; I’d figure it out later.
They were at one of the far picnic tables. Since it was still warm outside, a lot of the tables that were placed throughout the schoolyard were occupied with other students that wanted to enjoy the sunshine.
I strolled toward them, in no hurry, enjoying the heat of the sun on my face and the scent of grass as the janitor chugged along the football field on his riding lawn mower. The low purr of his motor, mixed with the temperature, made it feel like springtime. But we weren’t so lucky; it was only a matter of time before the air would turn cold. “Hey, guys” I said, sitting down next to Emma.
Derrick was on the other side, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been staring into each other’s eyes. They both had a huge crush on each other, but neither of them would admit it. The only reason I could think of for them to hold back their feelings was that we all had been best friends forever. Whether that was the reason or not, I had no idea.
“I heard you were late again,” Emma mumbled, her mouth full of ham sandwich.
I opened my lunch, taking out the pepperoni and cheese sandwich, saving the apple and caramel snack cake for later. “I wasn’t that late, and besides, it wasn’t my fault. I bumped into someone and had to pick up my books.” I didn’t mention that I was running late before that happened.
Derrick opened his mouth to speak, except I wasn’t listening. I just realized why I had Lucas’ book. It was him that I bumped into. That explained the fast departure.
Lucas Tate was his twin brother. And by his, I mean Logan Tate, the most popular guy in school, although nobody could figure out why. He was kind of a jerk, but got away with it because of his looks. He was the type of guy you could stare at all day, but hoped wouldn’t speak. He was also the boy who starred in my dream last night.
Emma waved her hand in front of my face. “What are you thinking about?”
Snapping out of my own thoughts, I looked over at her. “I just figured out who it was I bumped into this morning.”
Derrick glanced at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, you just figured it out? How could you not know, were your eyes closed?” He smirked at his own joke.
I blinked at him. “Ah…no, but he ran off before I saw who it was. When I was putting my books away, I realized I had an extra one, with Lucas Tate’s name on it.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Well, that explains it.” She looked away from us as Martin Macpherson, star quarterback and the object of my six-month-long crush in tenth grade, rushed by, chasing after a fellow team member, Rudy Myer, who cradled a football. She gave me a knowing glance as my cheeks heated from habit more than actual interest, and then continued. “He never talks to anyone.”
She was right. Lucas was Logan’s twin brother, but they were nothing alike. Logan loved to be the center of attention while Lucas went out of his way to avoid it. The only people I ever saw him with were his two best friends, Andy Taylor and Kyle Roberts. They were good guys. I had a few classes with them, and we’ve talked some.
Lucas was different in another way from his brother. He wore glasses and kept his coffee-colored hair long, almost reaching his shoulders, as if he didn’t care what it looked l
ike. Logan’s was always cut short and styled to perfection, and he always dressed in the latest styles. Lucas, however, wore sweatshirts and jeans almost every day.
I was deep in thought when I heard Derrick’s voice. “What is wrong with girls in this school?”
“What are you talking about?” Emma asked, tossing back her long red curls and batting her thick lashes over her olive-green eyes. Why didn’t Derrick see when she was flirting?
“Look at Allison Morey over there flirting with Logan. He treats people like crap, and stupid girls like her still hang all over him, just because he’s a pretty boy.” He shook his head. “I just don’t get it.”
While he was ranting, I glanced over to where Logan was sitting with his friends, and sure enough, there were a few girls flaunting themselves at him.
“Don’t ask us, you don’t see me or Sarah over there, do you?” Emma defended us as girls who went to this school. I really couldn’t tell them that I was dreaming about him after this. It was true what they were saying, and I was not interested in Logan at all. Well, only to look at maybe. But why would I dream about him?
“Oh my God, Sarah. I forgot to tell you.” Her green eyes were alight with excitement. “Guess who I saw this weekend when I was shopping in Langton with my mom.”
I stared at her, my mind blank. I had no idea who it could be. “The president?”
She chuckled, waving her sandwich at me. “No, dummy. Stephanie.”
Just the sound of her name gave me the chills. “Lucky you.” I grinned, thinking about the last time I saw her at the beach. My brown hair was still short after my unwanted cut, but styled in a cute spiky bob. My friends and I were enjoying a day of sun. Her mouth popped open in shock when she noticed me. Derrick, who knew about what had happened, draped his arm around me and whispered in my ear as though we were a couple. Of course we weren’t—he was my best friend—but she didn’t have to know that. A few of his buddies were also there, dressed only in swimsuits, showing off their tanned muscular bodies.