[Imdalind 01.0] Kiss of Fire

by Rebecca Ethington

  “Anyway, I’ve started looking for a new job.”

  “What?” Panic, sheer panic, gripped me. I felt my chest get tight and uncomfortable. Not only was change not good for me, she was ripping my best friend away from me. “Mom! You can’t.”

  “I have to, Joclyn. I have to keep you safe. You are my number one priority.”

  “Then, you have to let me go on Saturday, if you are going to take him away from me anyway,” I pleaded with her, trying to ignore the earth-shattering pain that centralized in my chest.

  “I don’t know, Joclyn. A movie?”

  “We’ve watched plenty of movies before.” I was begging; I had to go now.

  “Yeah, but alone, in his room.”

  “Done that, too.” We had even watched a movie with the lights off, but it still wasn’t as much of a scandal as my mom made it out to be.

  “Yeah, but never with overactive, crazed, teenage hormones trying to stick you two together like magnets.”

  I paused. She had a point.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. Nothing will happen. I can’t let it. I just want to enjoy the last little bit of time I have left with my friend.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Okay, but just remember, if I can’t go to the movie, I am wearing the biggest hoodie I own. If you let me go, I will leave the hoodie at home, and I might even wear the skirt. Well, not the skirt; I’d look like a moron.”

  7

  I tiptoed through the house on Wednesday morning, trying not to wake my mom. Wednesdays were the only day in the week my mom got to sleep in, having to go in for dinner service and the late-night weekly board meeting that night. Of course, letting her sleep in meant that I had to leave for school about twenty minute before usual. That, coupled with the fact that I had slept in, meant that I was running far later than I was comfortable with. The problem with living in such a small apartment was that trying to be quiet was impossible when you were in a hurry.

  I brushed my teeth in a rush, attempting to run a comb through my hair at the same time. The dark circles under my eyes had taken on a whole new shade of ugly, so I rubbed some of my seldom used concealer on them, vowing to eat a piece of fruit for breakfast. I brushed my hair, letting the sleek black strands hang low down my back.

  I rushed out of the bathroom and into my small bedroom, throwing on one of my two, un-ripped, pair of jeans and a fluorescent green tank top. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror that hung behind my door. Everything fit my small frame snuggly, something that would be hidden when I put on my hoodie. Of course, if my mom agreed to my compromise, I would have to spend all day Saturday like this. Not that that would be a bad thing, my arms and face could do with a little sun. I sighed, trying to figure out if I was ready to throw the hoodie aside. Although I could feel myself changing, I didn’t think I was ready to change that much.

  I grabbed a dark green hoodie as I walked out the door, locking it behind me. After my father had left, my mother had moved us as close to her new job as she could, which landed us in a tiny, overpriced apartment in a very upper-middle class neighborhood.

  Most of our neighbors made six figures and tended to look down on those that lived in the complexes. Some of them were nice and tolerable, but every once in a while, you ran into someone who thought that we shouldn’t be allowed to socialize with them.

  It was amazing how much I dealt with financial stereotypes every day. My mom was personal chef to a gazillionaire and I went to school with kids who get new Lexus’s for their birthday.

  I hopped on the school bus that stopped right outside my apartment complex with a few other kids and made my way to the middle, finding a bench to take up all on my own. We arrived at school about five minutes to the first bell, pulling up to the bus stop in front of the large, red brick building.

  The school grounds were bathed in patches of sun from the rays that broke through the white, puffy clouds lining the sky. An unnaturally warm breeze wrapped itself around me as I stepped off the bus. The wind caught and pulled my hair in odd directions, so I pulled my hood up in an attempt to hide myself. The steady gusts kept pulling at my hood, causing me to hold it in place.

  The large expanse of grass in front of the school filled up with last-minute stragglers as the morning bell prepared to ring. I walked toward the main entrance, wanting to get out of the wind as fast as possible. I had gotten about halfway when a tall figure distracted me, causing my feet to stop in shock.

  The same, tall, blonde man stood just off to the side of the front entrance to the school. He leaned against the building with his arms folded across his chest. He wore a tight fitting, light blue, button-up shirt and another pair of strategically ripped designer jeans. Even with the wind whipping against his clothes, he stayed still. His head was bowed and I could just make out closed eyes amid the masses of his blonde hair blowing in the wind. I knew he wasn’t looking at me, but I couldn’t shake that tormented feeling like I was being watched, or as I had put it earlier, stalked.

  I looked away from him and picked up my pace, eager to get into the school. I had forgotten about him after everything else that had happened last night; however, seeing him there again brought all that anxiety back. I felt jumpy and nervous as I walked into my first class, French.

  I looked over the room before sitting down, worried that the blonde man had followed me here. My irritation shivered up my spine, making me wonder if my paranoia level was becoming unhealthy. I settled in before Madame Armel could begin her instructions in French. I was only in this class for graduation credit, meaning the class was filled with a bunch of freshmen and sophomores, so I tended to sit at the back and blend in more than usual.

  Madame Armel began her lesson on advanced conjugation, while I opened my book in a futile attempt to follow along. It was hard to stay focused however; my mind kept wandering. My thoughts jumped from checking to see if the blonde man was around, to worrying about what I was going to say to Wyn when I saw her, and ultimately, to thinking about Ryland. My mind jumped from lip-locked fantasies that made my heart swim and pound, to the thought of his arms wrapped around mine in an intimate embrace, sending a pleasurable shiver up my spine. I couldn’t think that way, though. I had promised myself that we would just be friends and that I would leave him alone. I was left with a hollow, empty feeling as I shooed the fantasies away.

  The bell rang much sooner than I expected and I rushed out of class, my mind still overtaken by thoughts, worries and fantasies.

  Wyn sat down next to me, cafeteria tray and plastic bangles clanging. She didn’t say anything at first. I didn’t blame her; I didn’t know what to say either. How could I start a conversation after what had happened last night?

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, much softer than I had wanted to.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she responded, her bright voice sounding off against my strained whisper. “If I had known it was such a big deal, I wouldn’t have brought it up.” She paused and bit her lip, as if contemplating whether or not to say something else. I looked at her in expectation, but she had decided against it, looking back down to her food.

  I sighed and went back to my food as well. I was glad we had moved beyond it, but the awkwardness still wasn’t over. I hoped I could think of something witty to say that would strike up a bright conversation, yet nothing came to mind that I wanted to share. Every thought in my mind was an over-dramatic problem, so I kept them all to myself.

  We sat in a very strained silence through all of lunch, each of us eating our greasy cafeteria food as if we sat alone. I felt an odd gnawing at my heart that I wasn’t sure I had ever felt before. I had ruined everything and all because of the mark. Wyn was right when she told me not to let it ruin my life anymore, except this time, I was doing it intentionally. It wasn’t like Wyn had tried to leave; I sat here trying to push her away, not knowing how to stop myself.

  I turned toward her just as the bell rang, surprised to see her already looking at me. Her dark eyes st
ared into me, pinning me in place with a look of mingled excitement and fear. She looked like she was expecting something from me. I opened my mouth to answer her unasked question, but closed it again, realizing I didn’t know what she was going to say.

  “I better get going to English,” Wyn said without looking away from me.

  I watched her as she turned to leave, ratty shoulder bag draped across her back. I wanted to run after her, to explain why everything upset me and all about Ryland, and my dad, and everything. I just couldn’t make myself move.

  Wyn took a step to the side, leaving a break in the small group of students leaving the cafeteria. That small movement gave me a clear view of the door, and the blonde man standing next to it.

  I looked away from Wyn’s retreating back to meet the stare of bright, blue eyes. My stomach clenched in fear as his gaze bored into mine in a glance so intense, I felt the blood drain from my face. All the times I had seen him, I had felt uncomfortable, like I was being stalked, and this time was no different. Except now, I knew without a doubt that he was following me. My frantic and panicked heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest.

  In the back of my mind, I began to rolodex through every possible reason for being stalked. Everything from child predator to long-lost relative went through my mind in rapid succession. All the while, his eyes never left me; they kept me locked in place with their wide, eager expectation.

  The man leaned forward, his back arching him toward me. His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare into me. A shiver wound its way up my spine, causing me to inhale for a breath I hadn’t remembered holding. At my sudden intake, a coy, little half smile spread across his face as if he enjoyed it. My stomach clenched in even further terror, my mind casting away any thoughts of what that smile could mean. I didn’t want to know. He continued to stare into me before releasing me as he turned to walk out of the cafeteria.

  I didn’t dare move, even though class had already started. I was left alone with the janitorial staff and the smell of ammonia. I continued to stare at the vacant door as the edge of fear ebbed away and my spine started to relax. I shouldn’t be so worked-up over one random man staring at me, even though he had been following me. It could be anything, right?

  I shook my head in frustration as I gathered my belongings and headed out the side door of the cafeteria that led to the back of the school. I knew I would get in trouble for skipping classes, but right then, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to risk being seen by either Wyn or the blonde man.

  I turned around right outside the door and placed my fingers in the grooves of the deep red brick that covered the school. I lifted myself up, my worn sneakers gripping the brick as I began to scale my way toward the roof. My backpack bounced against my back as I moved up. With so little to cling onto, I was surprised I could do this at all, but something about heights and climbing had always drawn me in.

  I smiled as the wind pulled my hair out of my hoodie and snaked it around my face. The feeling of the warm air made my skin tingle. With one more pull, I reached the top and sat on the edge of the building, my legs dangling over the side.

  I sat, just looking at the tops of the houses and the small field where the freshmen were playing soccer. Before long, the fear of being stalked and the anger at the tension between Wyn and me came back and I sank down a bit.

  I wanted someone to talk to. I needed to figure out what was going on, what I was supposed to do. I needed Ry. I needed his strong arms around me and his soothing voice telling me it was okay. I knew I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t indulge myself.

  I reached into the pocket where I kept my phone, surprised when my fingertips brushed instead against something small and round.

  I pulled it out, expecting to find a wrapper, but instead found the small purple marble in my hand. It rolled around my palm as the wind tugged at it. Watching it shine against the flickers of light clicked something together in my brain. The man, the bead, my dad.

  My dad had referred me to a cult, and the cult had obviously found me.

  8

  For the second time in a week, I woke to the sound of Ryland’s knock echoing through my tiny apartment. I fought the urge to yell when I looked at the clock, 5:15 a.m. My alarm wasn’t set to go off for another forty-five minutes. I rolled out of bed and landed hard on the floor.

  “I’m coming,” I said loud enough for him to hear me.

  “About time,” I heard his happy voice yell back. Great, he’s wide awake.

  I crawled toward the door, grabbing a sweater I had discarded last night and threw it on to cover the light-weight cami I wore. I continued to crawl until I reached the front door where I pulled myself upright and threw the door open.

  “It’s five in the morning, Ry,” I yawned, my hair falling around my face.

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” He ran his big hand through his dark curls, looking away from me. “I was just worried about you.”

  “You were worried about me?” My voice sounded more hostile than I had meant it to.

  “Yes, Jos.” He looked down, his eyes smoldering and I felt my heart sputter. “Why aren’t you wearing my necklace?” He reached out and trailed the tip of his finger against my neck, his touch leaving a shivering trail behind it.

  I grasped toward my collar bone, shocked to find the fine silver chain missing. “It must have fallen off while I slept.” I looked back toward my room, as if just expecting to see it sitting on the fold of my comforter.

  “Why don’t you go get it? I’ll get breakfast ready.” He smiled and held up a bag full of greasy doughnuts. I couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face; he was so adorable. I let him in before turning to retrieve the necklace from within the mass of pillows and blankets that was my bed. The necklace lay warm in my hand, as if I had been lying on it all night.

  “See, not lost.” I walked up behind Ryland as he searched for plates in the kitchen.

  “Good.” He took the necklace from my hands and went to put it around my neck again. I moved my hair for him, so as not to reveal my mark. For a split second, I almost didn’t. I almost wanted him to see it, to see what he would do. That risk was too much for me, though, so I kept it hidden.

  “Please don’t take it off, okay?” he pleaded, his deep blue eyes boring into me.

  “You act like I’m going to go hock it and buy a car.” I laughed at the thought, but he didn’t. My laughter died off as I sat the milk and some glasses on the table.

  “Relax, Ryland, it’s not like I could, even if I tried.”

  Ryland looked at me menacingly from beneath his long lashes.

  “I couldn’t, could I?”

  He chuckled at me.

  “I could?”

  “More than likely, but please don’t, Joclyn,” he pleaded, coming to kneel in front of me and gathering my hands in his. His hands were warm and soft; the warmth radiated up my arms and through my body in a comforting way that enveloped me.

  “Please don’t, Jos. Don’t take it off, don’t sell it, don’t lose it, don’t give it away. Think of it as a piece of me,” he said and looked down at our interlocked hands. “You know I am leaving the country soon, and it may be a while until I see you again. I may… I may never see you again. Please keep it close. That way I will always know you are safe.”

  He lifted his head to look at me, and I was shocked to see his eyes brimming with threatening tears. He lifted our hands together and placed them over the necklace, right next to my heart.

  “Promise me, Joclyn, please.”

  I didn’t know how to react. Was this goodbye? I didn’t think I could handle anymore. It had been a week, one week since my birthday, and everything had flipped upside down. Ryland’s thumb began to caress the back of my hand that he held against my chest, waiting for an answer. The action sent my heart and stomach tangoing through my body in pure pleasure.

  “I promise,” I exhaled, hoping that this wasn’t goodbye. Not already. It couldn
’t be; there were still four weeks until graduation.

  Almost as soon as the words left my lips, my mom’s bedroom door creaked open and Ryland left my side, sitting back in his own chair before my mom could even exit her room.

  “Why, Ryland,” her voice was laced with parental venom, “was that your knock I heard at such an ungodly hour this morning?” She wrapped her robe around her as she made her way to the kitchen in search of a coffee mug.

  “Sorry, Mrs. D.” Ryland slipped right into his normal voice, as if nothing had happened over the past few minutes. “I wanted to provide breakfast for my two favorite ladies.” He winked at my mom as he shook the doughnut bag, causing me to almost choke on the maple bar I had just bit into. My mom looked between us in some sort of amused frustration. I wished she would just laugh; it would make everything go a lot smoother.

  “Joclyn, I have given some thought to what we talked about in the car on Tuesday night.”

  I sat up straighter, swallowing my doughnut. I couldn’t believe she was going to do this in front of Ryland, but, oh well. I chanced a glance at him to see that he was just as attentive as I was.

  “I will let you two have your movie night on one condition.”

  I sat forward more; she had my full attention—this had to be good.

  “No hoodies for the rest of the week.”

  Not good.

  “What?” I shrieked. I looked over at Ryland. He was smiling ear to ear.

  “Thursday, Friday, Saturday. No hoodie.” She was firm.

  I was doomed.

  “Good one! I knew you’d get her out of those hoodies somehow!”

  I rounded on Ryland; my face must have been terrifying because he flinched away from me.

  “Please tell me you had nothing to do with this, Ryland.” My voice was a growl.

  “Not a bit.” He winked at me and I felt my resolve lessen. Stupid hormones!

  “Mom!” I pleaded with her like a child. This was not a compromise; this was torture.