Continuum (5 page)

I had been trying to gather intel about her.  But aside from her name and that she had lived in Everest Heights her whole life, no one really seemed to know much about her.  When I mentioned her during lunch, Mackenzie was visibly agitated and her friends wore matching sour expressions until the topic changed.

But the instant I saw that drawing in her notebook, I felt like I had glimpsed a side of her no one knew.  The real Fallon Pierce.  This beautiful, strange girl that didn’t want a thing to do with anyone.  I could see her loneliness echoed in the shadows of her perfect drawing.  What did it say about this girl that she would spend so much time and attention perfecting an object as desolate as that building?  There was a sadness and wisdom to Fallon, this is what draws me to her.

Sam was very much against me “getting any ideas” about Fallon Pierce.  Sam is also a total, shameless gossip but when I bring her up, he is silent as a ghost.  But I suspect he has his own agenda.  Sam is always surrounded by a gaggle of girls but he is not exclusive with any particular girl.

Then again, I had even seen Sam talking to Fallon in the hallway the other day.  The type of talking when people stood very close to each other and shared secret smiles.  Not that I had been stalking her locker.  Not that I had any claim to her.  I mean they had probably known each other since they were in diapers.  Could Sam be carrying a torch for Sam?  Could Fallon be carrying a torch for Sam?  I was never very good at Geometry, but I’m pretty certain the two-friends-liking-the-same-girl triangle can’t exist.  At least not harmoniously.

I could have sworn I caught her eye last week during the gym assembly.  Technically, I had been staring at her first, but then our eyes met and she didn’t look away right away.  She was at least curious about me.  Curiosity could lead to interest.  I had been working up the nerve to say something to her all week but Mackenzie or her minions seemed to always be around every time I turned a corner at this school.  Today was my first chance to actually talk to her.  That didn’t go exactly how I had imagined it.  I guess her curiosity has been satisfied.

Her words had been harsh before she left but when our eyes had met, I saw something in those pale green irises that gave me hope.  Then again, I hardly know a thing about her and she is so hard to read.  Closing my eyes, I conjure up the image of her cathedral drawing.  Yes, there is much more to Fallon than meets the eyes.

Fallon

I spend the rest of lunch wandering through the forest, trying my hardest not to think about him.  Distracted, I find myself walking along a familiar path.  Since the dreams began, I had avoided coming here fearing that my dream was not a metaphor.  I don’t particularly want to be burned alive, but as I near the spot my curiosity gets the better of me.  

I try to recall details of my changing dream as I head for the clearing in a grove of spruce trees.  The crunch of dry leaves under my sneakers is as deafening as my heart thudding in my chest.  A sheen of sweat covers my skin as my feet move automatically.  When I reach the clearing, I let out a long cleansing breath that I had no idea I had been holding.  There is no sense of foreboding.  There is no sense of deja vu.  There is only the echo of the nightmare that’s been haunting me all summer.

I stand in the shadows between two trees not stepping into the clearing, avoiding the doomed tree from my dream.  Everything looks like I had expected, the clearing filled with overgrown, yellowed grass.  When I close my eyes I can almost feel the heat of the flames on my skin, but otherwise nothing clicks into place as I stare into the empty clearing.

It’s getting late, lunch will be over soon.  I give up and head to my last class of the day: Psychology.  We've had different substitutes since Mrs. Randall went on maternity leave a few weeks ago.  Since Psychology was a seniors only class, the classroom is mostly empty.  The class was pretty pointless, but too many absences would catch Principal Mullen’s attention and I prefer to stay under his radar.  I take my usual seat in the back corner next to the window.  

The substitute is reading a magazine and there's a group of students sitting up front chatting and laughing when the bell rings.  The volume doesn’t die down but the substitute passes around a sign-in sheet and a reading assignment along with a short questionnaire.  My attention is focused out the window as a squirrel makes its away around a ring of trees, landing nimbly on the complex web of branches as it ascends into the treetops.

A voice breaks through my reverie, “Hey, is this seat taken?”

It's the new boy and he's standing over me an ironic smile on his lips, pointing at the seat in front of me waiting for approval.  I am not sure if I’m more surprised that I’m seeing him in my class or that he’s trying to be friendly again.  Running off into the woods was usually an effective way of communicating that you wanted to be left alone.  

I shrug, so he plunks down his stuff on the desk in front of mine.  “So do you always make new friends so easily?” he asks as he pulls out his Psychology book.

Before I can reply, Mackenzie materializes into the classroom with a bang of the door.  The sub glances up with an arched eyebrow but doesn’t stop Mackenzie as she scurries toward us faster than the climbing squirrel.  She sits down across from him, daintily crossing her legs.  Her lavender-and-vanilla perfume quickly overwhelms me.  She reaches over and puts her hand on top of his.  “Ethan!” She squeals excitedly, “We missed you during lunch.  Did you have some work to catch up on or something?”

His eyes wander out the window and his tone is flat as he replies, “Oh, yeah.  Catching up on some Bio labs.”

She nods sympathetically, “Sam and Liam make you work too hard.  I didn’t know you had Psychology this period.  I was waiting for you outside of Astronomy.”

“Uh, I did have Astronomy last period.  But my transcripts finally came over from my last school so they just adjusted my whole schedule this morning.  But you seemed to track me down just fine.”  

Mackenzie makes a show of smiling coyly, “It pays to know the right people.  Listen, I know you're new to the area and my friends and I were just talking about how you haven't had a proper welcoming.”  As she says this, her glossy pink lips break into a winning smile and she leans over to place her hand on his, making sure to show off her assets which are shrink wrapped in a tight white tank top, the top of her lacy pink bra peeking out.

“It’s really not necessary,” he replies drily. 

She reaches into her oversized designer purse and pulls out her pink notebook and starts writing down an address.  Carefully tearing it out and folding it in quarters, she slips it in his hand, “Don’t be silly.  Emma is having a little get together tonight around eight.  Her parents are out of town so it will be fun.  It’ll just be a few of us.  But I'm sure we can find different ways to keep ourselves entertained. You can get to know all the right people at Everest.”  Mackenzie shoots me a quick look as she finishes.  Clearly, I am not invited.

“Yeah, I...,” he starts but Mackenzie cuts him off smoothly.

“That's Emma's address and I also put down my cell phone number just in case you need directions or... anything.  Well, I'm late to Calc.  I really hope you can make it tomorrow,” she says, her hand with the paper in it still in his palm.  She shoots me one last dirty look before releasing his hand.  Then she shimmies out of her chair and leaves in a whirlwind of swirling blond curls and perfume, pausing at the door to turn and give Ethan a smile and a wave.  The whole class is gaping at their exchange.  Before the classroom door swings shut, everyone is murmuring and glancing at Ethan.

Ethan looks over at me, a slightly shellshocked expression on his face.  “When I talk she doesn’t hear a thing I say, does she?” 

I bite back my amused smile, “It’s Mackenzie’s way.”

“She must be used to getting things her way.”  

I raise an eyebrow and say simply, “Almost always.”

“Well, Mackenzie is certainly... uhm, friendly.”  He nods distractedly and taps the square of paper in his hand against the edge of his desk, lost in thought.

“To you anyway.  You should go.  To her party.  You'll get to meet all the right people,” I avoid looking directly at him when I say this and instead I focus on his hands playing with the square of paper.  His hands are graceful, his long slim fingers are agile, flitting the little square between them.

His long chestnut hair flops into his brilliant blue eyes as he shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it.  He gives a nervous chuckle before sliding the piece of paper inside his notebook.  Shrugging, he sounds nonchalant about her invitation, “Right, I highly doubt I will meet anyone outside of her circle of friends.  Mackenzie has a away of monopolizing my time.”  He leans over into the small space between the desks, his face inches from mine, “Anyway, enough about her.  I want to know more about you.  I’m Ethan by the way.  Ethan Hayes.  We have European history together, but I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” 

His breath smells like peppermints.  His smile is so warm, I almost start to smile back.  Instead, I avert my eyes to the empty page of my notebook, “I’m Fallon Pierce.” 

“Fallon Pierce,” he repeats, testing my name out.  I like the way it sounds on his lips.  “What a beautiful and unusual name.  Do you always run away when people try to eat lunch with you, Fallon Pierce?”

I fold and unfold the corner of the paper, still avoiding his eyes, “Not all of us can be president of the welcoming committee like Mackenzie.”

“I might be new but I’m preceptive.  Subtly isn’t exactly Mackenzie's strong suit.  I know her agenda.”

“Mackenzie has always been aggressive.  She goes after what she wants,” I pause briefly to gauge his reaction.  “And she usually gets it.”

Ethan stiffens in his seat, “Well, I'm not an object to be gotten.  I’m a person with thoughts and feelings.”

I flush, where is my brain to mouth filter?  “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

He cringes, “No, I’m sorry.  I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder about that.  I’ve moved around a lot and at every new school, people treat me like I’m some shiny new toy.”

“Must be tough having all those girls clammer for your attention,” I mutter with an eye roll.

Ethan narrows his eyes, “Maybe you should get to know me before you make a snap judgement about me.”

Crap, I struck a nerve there.  Normally, I would not engage in this type of confrontation but his accusatory tone really gets a rise out of me.  “Well, maybe you shouldn't make assumptions that everyone here wants to be your friend.”

Right on cue, the substitute calls us to attention and I lean back in my chair.  I hadn’t been aware of how close we were sitting during our tense little back and forth.  She declares she won't keep us late on one of the rare beautiful afternoons we have left before winter and that we are free to go home early.  Everyone is a flurry of movement as they gather their things to leave lest she changes her mind.

“Have fun at the party, Ethan.”  I grab my books off the desk not even bothering to stuff them back into my bag and head out of class.

“Hey, wait up!” Ethan calls after me, scrambling to gather his things.  But he is two steps behind me and I'm already out the door by the time he gets out of his chair.

My footsteps are fast and clipped as I try to put as much distance between me and that wretched Psychology class.  I’m halfway between seething and embarrassed.  After all this time, Mackenzie still knows how to get under my skin.  I probably owe Ethan an apology but it’s for the best that he steers clear of me.  

I am three blocks away from home when a black motorcycle pulls alongside me, slowing down to match my pace.  The rider pauses to flip up the visor of the shiny black helmet.  Ethan.  Of course the motorcycle is his.  What is he doing here?

He calls over the hum of his engine, “Hey, you ran off so fast we didn’t even get a chance to finish our conversation.  Do you want a ride home?” 

His eyes burn with sincerity and my heart sinks.  After how I treated him...  Is he a complete glutton for punishment?  I close my eyes for a moment before replying, “No thanks, I'm almost there.  I prefer walking.  Alone.  Well this is my block.”  I continue without stopping and turn down my street.  I can hear Ethan's motorcycle idling at the intersection as he watches me, trying to decide how to proceed.  I turn around and wave him off.  His eyes narrow ever so slightly but then he kicks his bike back to life and rides off.

When I get home, my top priority is keeping myself busy.  I kick off my shoes in the hallway closet and walk through the living room to dump my book bag onto the dining table.  I flip on the ceiling fan over the island and walk over to the fridge, taking out a carton of orange juice and drinking straight from the container.  

I am a bit sweaty and feeling shaky from my hot walk home on a mostly empty stomach courtesy of my lunchtime interruption.  The cold from the juice seems to radiate through my chest and the sugar rush makes me feel more solid on my feet.  I press my forehead against the cool steel of the refrigerator door trying to convince myself that thinking about Ethan Hays would be an exercise in futility.

I would not spend a single minute analyzing the way Ethan tried to befriend me like a normal high school girl he had a few classes with.  I would not think about his beautiful face.  Or his clear blue eyes.  Or the rich sound of his voice.  Or how his smile melted my insides.  Instead, I will force myself to go through the motions of doing my normal evening routine. 

I try to stretch out homework and studying, but it only takes me twenty minutes to finish my Calculus assignment.  I don’t need to study and it’s fruitless since my concentration is scattered at best.  I give up on schoolwork and head upstairs to tidy my bedroom.  I dump out my clean clothes on the floor, folding them neater than I normally would.  I carefully put everything away and even spend a few minutes rummaging through my closet to pick out an outfit for tomorrow.  I remake my bed with fresh sheets, rearranging the pillows unto they are just so.  Finally done fussing with the arrangement, I glance at my alarm clock on the bedside table.  Crap, I still have way too much time on my hands.