Roam (Roam Series, Book One)

by Stedronsky, Kimberly

  Slowly, my sobbing became an occasional, rapid breath. His fingers traced my hair line, pressing softly at my temple before tracing again.

  Finally, I found my voice. “What is happening?” I whispered, unable to relay the full onslaught of confusion that filled my head. “Mr. Perry, this is really inappropriate,” I chided, trying again to move out of his consoling arms. He tightened his grip, shaking his head against my hair.

  “Before I tell you, I need you to call me West. We’re going to have to leave the teacher/student relationship in the classroom. This happened fast- I didn’t plan this,” he murmured, and the feeling of his lips against my hair sent a surge of both fear and wanting coursing through my body. Disgusted with myself, I moved my head away and turned to face him.

  “I don’t- I don’t understand,” I managed, eyes narrowed, finally remembering to look down at my arm. The pain was completely gone, but something marked the base of my wrist. I tried to wipe it with my left hand, but it remained. I moved my wrist closer to my face, eyes widening.

  A series of numbers tattooed the inside of my arm. Another scream boiled in fear ripped from my throat, but before it had time to get louder, his hand clamped over my mouth.

  “You have to stop screaming. I can’t stand to hear you scream. Like I said, I will explain, but I can’t from jail, which is where I will be if you keep screaming and draw someone in here.”

  The feeling of his hand over my mouth increased my panic, but I tried to process his words. Am I being kidnapped? I nodded slightly against his palm. He let go of my mouth, and I jumped to my feet before he could catch me.

  “What did you do to me?” I demanded, eyes scanning the stifling hot room for a weapon. He was a giant compared to my height and weight, but with the right weapon I could defend myself. I spotted a fire extinguisher on the wall to my right and dashed for it. He barely moved, catching me around the waist and lifting me into the air, pinning me against him.

  “Well, this is new. A fighter.” He chuckled softly, and his words sent shivers to my core. I’m going to die. I can’t let him take me. I’m going to be in a well somewhere, having my food lowered to me in a basket. I bucked backwards, slamming my head into his sternum. The effect was disappointedly minimal. “You’re going to knock yourself out. Jesus Christ. I can’t believe no one has taught you self defense. You’re a beautiful, seventeen-year-old girl.”

  He sounded genuinely angry. I stopped struggling. “What just happened? Please tell me what is going on. Please let me go. Mr. Perry, please…,”

  He spun me around so quickly, I would have lost my footing had he not been supporting my weight. “West. Not Mr. Perry. I’ll tell you why if you calm down and listen.”

  “I’m listening,” I managed, my eyes wide with panic. He stared down at me, searching my eyes. His hands still firmly gripped my upper arms.

  “You are so young. And your eyes are still green,” he murmured, intently examining my face.

  I concluded that the insane person in this situation was not me. “Okay… West,” I murmured, soothing, easing out of his grasp.

  “So ignorant, so young,” he repeated, as if considering how to begin. He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture I was recognizing as a sign of his frustration.

  I raised my eyebrows haughtily. “I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance,” I replied.

  Taken aback, he regarded me with amusement. “Socrates?” He asked. I nodded once and stepped back, sitting against the box on the ground. I felt my book bag behind me. I fished inside the open front pocket, feeling my phone.

  “Yes. Nice job.” I slid the phone to unlock without looking, touching the dial option from memory. “Now, please begin, before I hit ‘call.’” I had dialed 911 without looking, and then showed him my phone from behind my back.

  He nodded. “Nice. Still, banter and witty chitchat-” he moved so quickly, I barely had time to dart away. Suddenly, my phone was his once more. “-only give your enemy time to get ahead of you. And Roam,” he quickly turned my phone off, and I watched the Apple power down. “I am not your enemy.”

  Bested, I glowered at him. “Then who are you?”

  He took a step forward, and I stayed bravely where I was. “I’m someone you’ve known throughout six lifetimes. I’ve found you, born again, and explained this to you six times in the past. This time marks seven.”

  “In the past, you’ve dealt better with me just being factual and giving you the whole story bluntly. I found you earlier this time, and planned to ease you into the information slowly. But- after today- that’s out of the question.”

  I tried to take in his words. “Are you trying to tell me that we are reincarnated? And that we have been together throughout time?” He is certifiable. It was time to search for another weapon.

  “Your dream last night was a memory. The year was 1977. And you smelled marijuana. You’re going to start dreaming about our lives together- this is a natural effect of us meeting.”

  My heartbeat quickened. It was marijuana. How can he know that?

  “I need to see the numbers on your arm. Please,” he added, cajoling, holding his arm out to me.

  I considered him for a moment, and then held my arm out. I’d read too many books and seen too many movies to not comply with an abductor’s simple requests. And- I still wasn’t sure that I was being abducted.

  He looked at my arm, and through his touch I could feel his entire body tense as he read the numbers. Suddenly, he dropped my arm and pushed the right sleeve of his blue shirt up to his elbow.

  The exact same numbers were tattooed on his own arm.

  “What? What is that? Why do you have the same numbers on your arm?” I felt the self-control abandoning my voice.

  I could see the panic in his expression. In the distance, the bell rang from the school, indicating that third period was over. “Shit,” he said, under his breath, shoving his sleeve back down. He bent over and reached for my sweatshirt. “Baby, put this back on, you can’t let anyone see those numbers…,”

  “Please don’t call me that,” I grabbed the sweatshirt, hastily pulling it over my head and freeing my braid. I was overheated immediately.

  “We’re going to go through the motions of the rest of this day. After school, meet me in my room. I know a place we can discuss the rest of this, safely.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, of all people… but I’m really, really scared right now. Of everything that is happening. Of you.” My voice broke, and I took a deep breath to calm myself. “I don’t think I want to meet you alone.”

  He bent and snatched the key from the floor. On his way up, his hand slid around my back and between my tee-shirt and sweatshirt. He pressed firmly against my right shoulder blade. I gasped, his touch sending an unexpected sense of wanting through me.

  “You have a reddish-brown birthmark right here, shaped like a cross. Right?”

  I nodded furiously. He was so close, I could feel his breath on my face. I was losing control, failing to keep it together. Too much was happening, too fast.

  “You received this scar in 1533. You were being tortured.” I struggled for breath, visions of the awful means of torture I’d studied during that period in England running through my mind. He pressed harder against my shoulder blade, exactly where I knew the birthmark was. “I couldn’t save you. That is why I can’t bear to hear you scream.”

  I was locked in his gaze. Could this be possible? The tattoo on my arm physically appeared out of thin air. There has to be some explanation, either supernatural or otherwise. He knows the smell in my dream; he knows about my birthmark…

  Shaped like a cross.

  “I’ll meet you after school,” I whispered, my words tired and broken.

  He nodded firmly, agreeing. “Thank you. Don’t leave the school without me, Roam. Promise.”

  “I promise,” I said, defeated. “And I want my phone.”

  He let my words register before he no
dded, retrieving the device once again from his pocket. I snatched it from him, swept my book bag over my shoulder, and ran back to the school as fast as I could.

  Chapter Five

  I was a mess. At least I didn’t have enough time to apply make-up that morning; after all of the crying that I had done, my mascara would have been dripping down to my ankles. People stared as I walked through the hallway. I’m sure I’m a sight to see. Slipping into the bathroom, a glance in the mirror told me that they had every right to be entertained by me. My eyes were red, of course, but my lips were swollen twice their normal size from crying- a ridiculous curse I’d carried since I was born.

  Lunch period was just beginning, and Logan would be waiting for me. I bent over the sink, turning the cold water on blast. Cupping my hands, I splashed my face. The water felt good; I broke my cardinal rule of filtered-or-bottled-water only and gulped. My throat was on fire from screaming.

  I can’t bear to hear you scream.

  Shuddering, I shut the faucet off and reached for a paper towel. Water ran down my wrist and under my sweatshirt. Hesitant, I pulled the right cuff of my sweatshirt up slightly. The numbers were still there.

  41.7724 -81.049576

  “So then Ms Gardener was like, ‘Mr. Perry, my doorknob is just stuck,’ and Mr. Perry goes across the hallway to work on her doorknob!” Giggling erupted and echoed in the bathroom. Two girls that I recognized as juniors entered the bathroom.

  They stopped abruptly when they saw me. Grabbing my backpack and ignoring them, I rushed out of the bathroom. I headed for Logan’s locker, but could see from across the hall that he wasn’t there. He probably walked to the cafeteria without me. I had no intention of going to the crowded cafeteria looking like I did. Instead, I wandered the halls for a while, waiting for my face to look relatively normal again.

  My mind was racing. Mr. Perry- West- had suggested he’d been alive for over six hundred years. So then that makes him… immortal? What is immortal other than a vampire? Not something I’d ever bothered to Google. My hall-roving suddenly took direction; the computer lab was set up in the English wing. One of the freshman English teachers was facilitating the lab. I found an empty station and sat down, signing in.

  With less than twenty minutes of lunch left, I jumped right to Google and typed “Immortality.” Wikipedia was the first result. I scanned the page, my eyes resting over phrases like “immunity to death” and “promise from God.” The JPEG on the right of the page drew my attention; the Fountain of Life in Cleveland, Ohio.

  Hadn’t Logan and I just stopped next to it on our way from the Indian’s stadium? I never really looked at the statue, nor had I read any information about it. The caption stated that the fountain symbolized “Man rising above death, reaching upward to God and toward Peace.”

  Was “naked guy on fire” supposedly immortal? I followed the Wikipedia link into another browser window, reading the entry. The centerpiece is a bronze figure representing man escaping from the flames of war and reaching skyward for eternal peace.

  Sighing, I closed the window. I was getting distracted, which was not unusual when I conducted any type of research. I typed in the address for Google search again in my open browser window. Sliding the sleeve of my sweatshirt up to my elbow, I copied the numbers into the search engine carefully. As I did, I noticed the dash before the number 8, and cold realization washed over me. These are coordinates. I clicked on Google Maps, re-typing the numbers with the dash and decimal points. Panic made me break into a sweat.

  Madison, Ohio.

  “Please find a good place to stop your research, students. The bell will be ringing in five minutes,” the lab monitor announced, her eyes never leaving the computer screen in front of her. I glanced around; the only research the other five people in the lab were conducting was on Facebook.

  Shuddering, I stared at my arm. Coordinates? Of my own city? I felt the familiar ringing in my ears, and immediately bent over in my chair and put my head between my knees. Logan was right- I was worse than those fainting goats.

  So, I now sported an intriguing tattoo of geographical coordinates. Maybe I could pass it off as a meaningful but trendy fashion statement, like Angelina Jolie. Teenage girls did crazy stuff, right? Dad may go with this theory.

  I felt more centered, gathering my book bag as the bell rang. Suddenly remembering that Mr. Perry had shut my phone off, I dug for it and powered it back to life. When it came back on, I had four text messages waiting. Three were from Logan, and one was from a number that I didn’t recognize. I read through Logan’s first.

  At my locker- where RU?

  Going to cafeteria to look 4U

  Worried- where R U??!!!

  I touched the other number that I didn’t recognize. The preview didn’t look like spam, so I was curious.

  Roam- do NOT show Logan the numbers. See you at 2:45.

  I widened my eyes, my stomach churning with anxiety. Now he has my phone number- and he knows who Logan is? I ground my teeth and hastily texted Logan back.

  I’m fine. Needed the computer lab. Sorry my phone was off. See you soon.

  His reply was almost instant.

  I have to leave early for the recruiter appointment. C U about 6? ILY

  I typed with one thumb as I rushed to Physics class.

  Yes ILY2

  My final three classes of the day were all advanced placement. I may as well have slept through Physics, Literature, and French- my mind was so far from the topic that I was surprised the teachers didn’t call on me at least once, trying to catch me off guard. Maybe they took one look at me and decided I’m having a terrible day?

  When French ended, I ambled through the halls, knowing there was no need to rush for the school bus. I stopped at my locker to decide what books I’d need for homework. Finally, I piled all the books and folders on the shelves and slammed the door, leaving my bag empty. I had no intention of doing any of it tonight.

  When the halls cleared out, I walked up the stairs to the second floor. The custodian was already mopping. She’s probably eager to end the day and go enjoy the summer weather. When I entered the history classroom, I saw him right away, sitting at his desk, staring intently at his laptop. The air was cool and refreshing. Sixty-eight degrees, I thought sarcastically.

  He looked up. When he saw me, he slapped his laptop shut, sliding his chair back and standing all at the same time. “Roam, come in, I just need to pack this up and I’ll be ready to go,” he said, already jamming his laptop into a brown, leather messenger bag. “Do you feel okay? How’s your arm?”

  I stared at him. He was right; all day I had been “going through the motions” until now, and suddenly, comprehension of the extraordinary situation that found me standing in his classroom permeated my brain.

  “No, I don’t feel ‘okay.’ I feel like I’m going crazy. Which is pretty much how I’ve felt since I met you.”

  He slung his bag over his shoulder, walking to me. I lifted my eyes, wondering if he could see how helpless I felt. “You’re doing fine, and you’re not crazy,” he promised, brushing past me and turning off the light switch. His voice was hypnotic. I nodded, strangely grateful.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, following him.

  “You’re going to the library across the parking lot. I’m going to pick you up there. I have no intention of destroying your ‘unscathed reputation.’”

  I smirked and looked down, disappointed in myself for being amused. “Thanks for that,” I murmured.

  He turned back to me. “Five minutes.”

  I nodded, heading for the back stairway. The public library was located next to the high school, so a walk across the hazy parking lot took less than five minutes. I waited near a parked car in the back of the library, watching cars pull in and out of the lot. A black, Honda Pilot pulled in, and I knew instinctively it was him.

  All of the windows were down and the sunroof was open. I tossed my book bag in the back seat. “I’m taking my sweatshirt o
ff,” I warned, pulling it over my head. There was no way I could sit on leather seats with no air conditioning, wearing a sweatshirt. I tossed it in the back seat with my bag, my eyes automatically focused on the numbers on my arm. “Okay, where are we going?”

  “There’s a waterfall less than fifteen minutes from here. You like water- it calms you.”

  “Paine Falls?” I narrowed my eyes. “It’s probably a trickle in this drought. I…” his words registered suddenly. “How do you know I like water?”

  He shifted gears. Great, a stick shift. I can’t even push him over the falls and take his keys- I have no idea how to drive this. “I’m going to pretend that was a rhetorical question, Roam. The less I repeat things, the faster you’ll get the whole story from me.”

  Offended, I glared at him. “Mr. Perry, I’m keeping an open mind here.”

  He slammed on his brakes at the green light, his arm automatically extending across my chest. He caught me inches from the dashboard.

  The man in the pickup truck ran the red light across from us.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” he said through clenched teeth, “and start calling me West. You’re going to need more than just an open mind- you need to trust me.”

  Terrified of the near t-bone collision, I nodded, pulling my seatbelt across my chest and fastened it. “I will. West,” my voice shook. He pulled his arm away. It took seconds to realize that I was telling the truth. I do trust him… On some level I already did, otherwise the sensible girl that I was would never have gotten into the vehicle with him.

  Chapter Six

  “I’m going to start talking. If you have a question, just interrupt me.”

  “You sound like such a teacher,” I muttered, under my breath. I turned to stare out the window.

  If he heard me, he didn’t acknowledge. “Do you want to start with the long version, or the short version?”

  I sighed. “The short version.”

  “Good- less dramatic.” He looked right to check oncoming traffic, and the dark blonde shadow on his jaw caught the sunlight. I swallowed hard, turning away quickly. I tried to believe that the fantastical story he was about to tell me would somehow explain the willful physical attraction that I had for him, but I was sure I wasn’t the only female affected by his classically rugged, handsome looks.