Mark of the Seer (11 page)

“So, you're not gonna open it?”

I shrugged, finishing off the rest of my bottled water. “Nah, I'll wait till tomorrow.”

“But don't you want to know if you got in?” she hedged with a hint of frustration echoing in her voice.

Did I?

“Not really,” I retorted, again shrugging my shoulders, showing that college was the last thing on my mind.

She walked slowly to the table and sat down, glaring incredulously at me the whole way. I could tell she was having a hard time digesting what I'd said, like I didn't seem to care about my future at all. I could practically see the wheels spinning in her head, just like a hamster running a marathon in its neon-colored wheel.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, trying to control the waver in her voice. “You just received something from New York State, possibly an acceptance letter, and you're not ripping it open to see if you got in, to find out if this is your chance to get out of this hell-hole town? I mean, this could be your chance to get out, Clarity! Your chance to make something of yourself.”

“Why are you makin' such a big deal out of this?”

“Because for two years now you've been crying about leaving this place and never looking back. What's changed, Clarity? You know money is not an issue.”

“I know that,” I declared.

My parents had left me with a six-figure life insurance policy, along with a well-endowed savings account, but I had not touched any of it. I had made up my mind long ago that I wanted to earn my own money, and that I would never depend on anybody to pay my way. Even though it was mine, I couldn't help but feel that it was wrong to spend any of it, unless I really, really needed it.

“So why are you...wait.” She paused as she crossed her arms at her chest, a look of comprehension shadowing her features. “You're waiting to see what Brenton's gonna do, aren't ya?”

When she said that, my mouth could not form an answer. All I could do was look down at a scuff mark on the table, biting my bottom lip.

Exasperated, she asked, “Why?” She flung her hands in the air in confusion.

“Because,” I answered softly, scratching at the scuff mark.

“Because why?”

“Because I love him.” My eyes slowly met hers.

“Oh, really,” she scoffed. “You love him.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Clarity,” she began, her tone gentle, “you're young. You may think you love him, but it's probably more out of lust than love. Trust me. I'm getting close to thirty and I'm just now finding out the difference between love and lust.”

“You can't even begin to compare my life with yours,” I scowled.

She grabbed my hands. “Oh, honey, I know you've had it rough since losin' your parents. It's been hard on me, too. Losing my only sibling nearly killed me.”

“Yeah, I know it's been hard on you, especially since you were forced to raise his only child,” I threw at her vehemently, pulling my hands out of her grasp.

She winced at my harsh words. “I wasn't forced, Clarity. You know that.”

I stood up from the table, pushing my chair forward.

“So what are we talkin' about here?” I felt my face burn from anger. I glared at her menacingly.

“I just don't want ya to throw your life away for some teenage boy who has nothin' going for him.”

Rage boiled in my stomach, spewing up to my chest. “Oh, this is just great! Epic, even...”

“Sit down, Clarity,” she cooed, trying her best to calm me down. “Don't get mad—”

I stopped her from finishing, halting her weak words. “You know, you could be right. It could be a mistake to put my plans on hold for Brenton, the guy I love and want to marry someday. And don't sit there all high and mighty and tell me that I'm too young to understand what love is because that's what I feel for Brenton. Yes. Maybe I'm making a mistake waiting on him, but it's
my
mistake. And it's my life.”

She stared at me in disbelief, blowing out a long sigh. “I didn't want to fight about this. All I want is for you to have a happy life! That's what your parents would've wanted.”

Irritated, I threw my hands up in the air, allowing all my aggravation to fly to the surface.

“Oh, great, here we go! Every time we're talkin' about life and how I should run it, you bring them up. Like, if they were here they'd want me to be smart and do exactly what
they
think I should do. Well, wake up, A.C.!” I scanned the room, my next words harboring hatred. “They are not here. They are dead and never coming back. So it doesn't matter what they would want for me because they are cold in the ground. I am in control of my life. Not you, not my dead-in-the-ground parents—not anyone but me.”

I felt the urge to cry, but I bit back the tears. No way was I going to show weakness. No. Way.

She looked at me impassively, not shocked at all by my hardheadedness. “I bring them up because your happiness would mean everything to them.”

“What if my happiness is with Brenton?”

“OK, fine,” she expressed, leaning back in her chair. “Let's say your happiness is with Brenton. Would you really be happy staying in this town working as a cashier for the rest of your life?”

“We aren't staying here,” I retorted shrilly, shaking my head.

She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you will.” she replied softly. “Don't get me wrong, I think Brenton is precious, but if you stay with him—You. Stay. Here.”

My brow furrowed and lightening flashed behind my eyes as I let her words soak in. “How the crap do you know that?”

“I know his family and how bad off they are right now. His dad was laid off, and his mom is makin' minimum wage at a daycare. There's no way he'll wanna leave his family.” My bewildered expression made her pause. “Has he not told you anything about that? About how he gives half of his paycheck he makes at the garage to his parents to pay bills? And Clarity, he doesn't make much as a mechanic. Trust me.” She stared at me matter-of-factly, making me want to slap the look off her face. I pushed that thought aside.

Taking a breath I tried to calm the erratic beating of my heart.

“OK. First of all, instead of sitting on your butt at the hospital running your mouth and spreading gossip, why don't ya try taking care of
patients
—that is your job, right?”

“Clarity, I d—”

“And second, no, he has not told me about the financial stress his family is under. Why would he even want to talk about something so hard and depressing? And third,” I walked to the table, placing my palms on the table, my voice stern and unwavering, my cruel glare causing her to cringe, “him wanting to help his family just shows what a standup, decent guy he is, which is hard to find in an eighteen year-old nowadays. Isn't being respectable and dependable important traits in a human being?”

Before answering she stared at me with thoughtful eyes. She leaned her elbows onto the table, resting her chin on her balled-up fists. “Yes, those are important traits. But let me ask you this one question: If Brenton had to choose between you and his family, who would it be?”

A hard ball formed in the pit of my stomach, my whole body burning with acute frustration. I knew he would choose me. He loved me. But a nagging thought in the back of my mind began pulsating throughout my brain. What if I was wrong? What if Brenton didn't care about me as much as I cared for him? He always told me he loved me and couldn't imagine life without me. If he did have to choose, would he choose me over them?

“You have one chance in this life, Clarity,” she said after a few ticking seconds. “Be sure to choose wisely.”

The doorbell began ringing, breaking us from our battle of words.

Standing up straight, I brushed the bottom of my shirt with my hand, pushing my hair behind my ears with the other. Briskly I turned away from her, grabbing my sequined black purse, and walked to the door.

“Clarity, wait,” she called from the kitchen. “Don't leave angry like this.”

Without turning back I said, “Have fun at work.” I opened the door, slamming it hard after making it to the porch.

Brenton was standing by the steps, leaning against one of the rails. I gaped at him, a feeling of hot desire hitting me somewhere low. He turned around with a smile. I almost laughed when his eyes grew wide as he scanned the entire length of my body, his eyes resting on my chest.

“That is
soooo
not a school outfit.” He placed his hands on my hips, his muddy eyes finding mine. “You look so—”

I interrupted him, surprising him by wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him, long and hard.

After we kissed I purred in his ear, “Ya ready?”

Brenton, still high from the passionate kiss, murmured, “For what?”

I slung my head back, laughing. “For bowling, silly!”

He backed away, a sheepish grin spreading on his handsome face.

“Bowling. Yeah. I remember.”

I took his hand and smiled as he led me to his truck. Even after arguing with A.C. over Brenton and my future, excitement was running through my bones as I thought of the evening ahead. I wasn't going to worry about anything tonight. I wasn't going to think where I might be this time next year. I wasn't going to let what A.C. had told me change how I thought of Brenton—he was the love of my life and nothing would ever change that.

All that mattered at the moment was me and Brenton and this night together.

Chapter Eight

Garlandton Lanes was just like any other building in town. As soon as you walked through the doors it was like taking a step back in time, the smell of old dust and mildew floating up your nostrils with every breath you took. The bright orange color on the walls hit your eyes like a blast of sunlight, the trim a dark brown, very much in style with the sixties and seventies. Light fixtures shaped like big round balls hung excessively throughout the building, their orange glows lighting your way around. Fluorescent lighting lit the lanes with harsh glares, your eyes able to see how badly the lanes were warped. Green shag carpet covered almost every inch of the building, not counting the lanes.

The bowling alley was a popular place for teenagers to congregate, especially since the owner was hardly ever there, leaving his responsible teenage employees to run the place. And in leaving teenagers in charge there was no need to show any form of ID for alcohol, you could eat and drink anywhere you wanted, and smoking was allowed.

Also, making out was allowed, too. Some people went the extra mile, taking their girlfriends or boyfriends to a bathroom stall for privacy.

I, for one, had no desire to go into a smelly, dirty bathroom stall with Brenton, especially for our first time.

I often wondered if any of the adults in this town knew what went on inside the alley on Friday and Saturday nights. Most of them probably knew, they just didn't care. Maybe some knew and did care, but instead of doing something about it, they decided to ignore it, having the mentality that as long as their child was with friends they'd do the right thing. Most parents didn't know that their “little darlings” were probably smoking pot and sleeping with whoever walked by at the time. I've seen it all—nothing surprised me anymore.

Even though the place was outdated and stunk to high heaven with cigarette smoke, it was a pretty cool place to chill with friends. Well, the coolest place in a backwards kind-of-town like ours.

“Gah! You've gotta be kidding me!” Brenton looked at me in total wonderment, most likely because I'd bowled another strike.

I cracked an uppity smile. “Told ya I'd kick your tail.”

“That's, like, five in a freakin' row!”

I plopped down in the seat next to him. “What can I say? I'm sizzling tonight!”

“No,” he shook his head, pulling me onto his lap. “You're more like a super bowler, or something.” He smiled, placing a kiss on my neck. I closed my eyes, loving the feel of his breath on my neck. Being this close was making me want this bowling date to be over so we could start our own
private
date.

We sat there for a moment, like we were the only two people on the planet, but then nasty catcalls began in the lane nearest us, bombarding us with their crude comments.

“Woo-hoo! Go get'em, Sparks!”

“Someone's getting lucky tonight!”

“Go get a room, already!”

Embarrassment flooded the both of us, our faces turning crimson. The guys in the next lane were a bunch of stupid idiot jocks from school, Brenton's so-called
friends.
Glaring at them, I flipped them off, smiling mirthlessly. Of course that just got them more excited, so I slid off of Brenton's lap.

He smiled his dimpled smile, blushing. “Forget about them guys, they're all crock.”

I rolled my eyes. “Duh, already knew that.” I glanced at the scoreboard. “So, who's up next?”

“Let's see, uh...Kora.”

“Where is she?”

Brenton leaned back, his hands behind his head. “I think she and Kev are playing pool.”

I snickered. “So, why did we double tonight?”

“I don't know, but...” he sighed theatrically, “someone needs to bowl...and I guess that someone is...
meeee
!”