Mark of the Seer (7 page)

As the door opened and closed, the bell clanged, forcing a jump out of me. I glanced back at the boy, who was nonchalantly flipping through the magazine again, as if everything was all
peachy-keen.
As if Nick hadn't just threatened him.

Walking a few steps forward, finally able to break my planted feet free from the floor, I headed over to this lucky boy. I mean it—he
was
lucky! Nick had never backed down from a fight...
never
. And looking him over, anyone could see that Nick would have beaten him to a pulp. I'd seen Nick destroy way bigger guys than him. It wasn't that this kid was a weenie or anything. He was tall, may be six feet, and slender. From the jeans and black t-shirt he was wearing I could not tell if he was ripped or not. His black hair was ruffled slightly, immediately making me want to reach out and run my fingers through it. With ruffled hair and all, this guy was gorgeous.

Reaching the magazine rack I stared at him in wonderment. That warm, calming sensation circled around me. The smell of lavender had completely taken over the nasty lemony smell of the cleaning supplies. To my dismay he continued flipping the pages of the magazine, as if I was invisible.

“How...how did ya do that?” I asked, determined to get his attention. My heart pounded when his light, unnatural eyes looked down at me.

“Do what?” he replied elegantly, closing the magazine and placing it back on the rack.

I gaped at him dubiously. “Keeping Nick from grinding you into pieces! I've never seen him back down from a fight.”

I waited for him to give me an obvious answer, but instead I got an answer that was so full with opacity that my brain screamed with annoyance, fueling up confusion.

“So that was Nick,” he said, his head turning toward the door. “That boy's got some demons hanging all over him.” He turned back to me, his enthralling eyes catching hold of mine, and again that warm feeling of calm ran from my head all the way down to my toes.

“W-Who
are
you?” I managed to asked, though my tongue felt too heavy for my mouth.

To my disappointment he remained silent in his comfortable stare. I don't know why I felt comfortable with him—any normal person would be running for the hills! There was something not quite right about him, something I couldn't grab a hold of, which totally upset me.

I decided to take a different approach. “I saw you at my school today. Are you new in town?”

Giving me a dash of hope, he grinned. “Sort of,” he retorted sheepishly.

Okay, now we're getting somewhere.
“What's your name?” His grin faded, and he grimaced.

“My name's Sam.”

I smiled graciously, so happy to finally get his name. “
Just
Sam?”

He nodded.

“Well, my name's Clarity Mi—”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, cutting me off.

I frowned. “Yeah, about that. How
do
you know me if you're new in town? Also, what did you mean by calling Nick a “little human”, and what did you mean that demons were all over him? And how did I hear you whisper my name when you were outside the—”

“Whoa, slow down,” he said, chuckling. “Has anyone ever told you that you ask way too many questions?”

“Not really,” I replied, crossing my arms. “But that's the only way to learn, right? To ask as many questions as possible?” I leaned into the rack of magazines, starring quizzically at him.

He shook his head, appearing amused. “You've always been so inquisitive,” he said softly, surprising me by taking my hands and holding them, rubbing my palms. His touch was warm on my flesh. I wanted so badly to pull away because frankly, his revelation unnerved the hell out of me. He was new in town, so how the crap did he know I'd always been
inquisitive?
How the crap did he know me in the first place?

I wanted to ask so many questions, wanted to tell him what I was feeling, wanted to take my hand from him and flee. But I could not. Like a moth to a flame, I was completely mesmerized.

We stood there holding hands for I don't know how long. Our eyes never left each other, studying, memorizing every detail. I didn't want this moment to end, because after years of feeling abandoned by my parents (not really
abandoned
, since they had not planned to die in a car crash), a pinch of security surrounded me. A different kind of security than when I was with Brenton.

Brenton. What would he think if he walked in the store to see me holding hands with a stranger? Guilt seeped into my heart. I loved Brenton, and for some outlandish,
completely
illogical reason, I loved Sam. Not the physical/mental love I had for Brenton, but more of a brother/friend kind of love.

Just like his unnatural clear-blue eyes, I loved him with some kind of unnatural love. The screwiest component in this bowl of mess was that I loved him...and I'd just
met
him, and knew nothing about him. Talk about a jumbled pot of complete chaos, topped off with a side of habitual perplexity.

The sound of a door opening in the back followed with a high-pitch giggle intruded on our strange, intimate moment. Our hands broke away. A flash of pure regret shown out of his eyes. I smiled at him, not knowing what to say or do. Behind me I could hear Casey and Janey walking to the front, coming right at us. Turning around to greet them, I decided I'd introduce Sam to them. What could it hurt? He was new in town (or so he said) and needed people to talk to. I still didn't know what was going on with him or with me. But whatever it was, it was all good. And disturbing.

“That's Casey and Ja...” I began, stopping mid-sentence. When I turned back around I saw that I was speaking to the magazine rack.

Sam was gone.

Quickly I began walking around the store, searching for him. But I was left scratching my head. Where was he? He had to still be in the store because the annoying clang of the bell had not sounded. Plus nobody could be that fast. There was no way he could have made it to the door the two seconds I looked behind me. No. Way.

“Clarity!” I heard Janey call as I continued to search the aisles for Sam, “You did a totally
awesome
job—this place looks immaculate!”

“Thanks!” I called back, still bewildered by the disappearance of Sam. I had checked everywhere, even the bathrooms, but he was no where to be found.

Feeling dejected, that calm sensation gone from my system, I trudged back to the front. The lavender smell that had been happily intoxicating had vanished along with Sam.

On my way to my counter I saw that Janey and Casey's clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, un-tucked and messy. Gee, I wonder what they'd been doing alone. In the privacy of the stockroom. I groaned inwardly at that disgusting thought.

“What were you doin', Clare?” Janey asked cheerfully, applying sparkling lip gloss. Casey stood next to her with a goofy, light-headed expression present on his face.

I took a breath, trying to act normal. What had been going on with Sam—the hand holding and all the feelings
and
even the lovely smell in the air—confused the
crazy
crud out of me. But in front of my two friends I would have to act like my usual, smart aleck self. Like everything was normal and dull; like real life. Also I was
not
bringing up Nick—not even worth it.

“Obviously not what the two of you were doing,” I responded, giving them a look that screamed “Naughty, Naughty, Naughty!” “Um, Casey?'

“What?”

I grinned slyly, my eyes drifting down the front of his jeans. “Your, uh, fly’s undone.”

His face glowed bright red, turning his back to me. I laughed when he turned back around, his face bruised with aggravation.

“Hah! Made ya look!” I teased.

He scowled. “I don't know what Sparks sees in ya,” he muttered.

“Oh please,” Janey groaned with an over-the-top eye roll. “She's got the most
amazing
rack in this town.”

I gawked at her. “Thank you, Janey, for pointing my girls out.” Casey laughed along with Janey.

Suddenly I became lightheaded. Leaning back against the counter, I grabbed hold of the side, trying to steady myself. Stars exploded behind my eyes, my head pounded like a beating drum. My ears began popping like they do when you drive around a mountain. My palms burned, probably from me grasping the side of the counter so tightly. I closed my eyes waiting for, whatever it was, to be over.

“Clarity,” Casey said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Are you OK?”

“Hey, you're not mad about the whole
cleavage
thing are ya?” Janey piped in, as usual worrying about upsetting me.

I didn't answer either of them; I just waited, holding onto the counter, for my body to get control over its uneasiness. When I finally felt like myself again, the weirdness coming to a grinding halt, I opened my eyes. Casey and Janey stood in front of me with their eyes wide, full of worry.

“Whoa,” I whispered, taken back by whatever just hit me. “I think that's my cue to leave.” The floor could wait for its mopping tomorrow.

Janey frowned, patting my back. “What happened, hon?”

“I don't know,” I told her. “All of a sudden I felt like I was gonna pass out.”

“Hope you're not getting the flu,” Casey groaned.

Janey stopped patting my back and took a few steps backward.

I chuckled. “No, I'm fine now—I think I'm just sleepy.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Janey concurred quickly. “It’s been a long, hard day.”

You have
no
idea,
I thought grudgingly.

I grabbed my bag and took off my smock. “Guys, I think I'm gonna head out, I'm done here anyway.” I sighed. “See y'all tomorrow.”

“Go home and get some rest,” Janey commanded while I checked out my time card.

“Okay, I'll do that,” I told her as I walked out the doors and into the sticky night air. Clouds were moving in and the air smelled like rain was on its way.

Once I got my car door opened, I threw my bag in and slumped into the seat. I set my forehead on the cool steering wheel.
Go home and get some rest,
Janey had said. Yeah. Yeah
right
. There were a number of reasons I wouldn't get
rest
that night.

First, the fight between Kora and Daria that morning. Second, the way every detail around me changed the instant I saw the boy just outside the classroom, and how I heard him whisper my name, as if he stood right next to me. Third, Nick showing up at work, blaming
me
for Kora dumping him, and then the threat he laid down on my head. And fourth, the boy showing up at my work, learning his name was Sam, and watching as he somehow made Nick leave without a fight.

And to top it all off: My feelings. The way I felt love for Sam even though I'd just met him. Feeling guilty about holding Sam's hand, wondering what Brenton would say. The way I felt an overpowering sense of calmness and security around Sam. The way the air seemed to warm and the aroma of lavender floating up my nostrils. How everything changed once Sam disappeared. How everything changed when he
appeared.

Was I going crazy, finally losing my mind? Or had I imagined all the insanity, maybe in my mind creating something that wasn't there? Creating some
one
who wasn't real?

A.C. was always talking about the psych ward at the hospital, talking about the people with schizophrenia who were always speaking to invisible people. Was that going to be me one day? Sitting in a wheelchair, talking to people who were not there? Talking to myself?

Wait—Nick had seen Sam, so Sam
had
to be real. And he'd reached out and touched me, holding my hands in his warm grasp.

No, I wasn't going crazy. Everything that I'd experienced—the calm sensation, the sense of safety, the pure lavender smell, Sam's warm touch—it had all been real.

Sam was real.

The rain began pouring buckets outside. I leaned back, gazing out my window, my mind spinning in a constant whirl. After sitting there collecting my thoughts on the day, I thought I'd feel better, or at least not as confused. But no. I was more confused as ever.

And not in a good way.

* * * *

The small room was crowded with teenagers dancing to loud techno music. Lights colored red, yellow, purple, and green flashed, pulsating on their faces in a psychedelic way. Their eyes were closed, concentrating on the beat of the music, faces a complete blank. They moved the same way, the same rhythm. All of them...but me.

I was standing in the heart of the crowd, sticking out like a sore thumb. I felt like a sheep who had wandered away from its herd, stranded in a mist of deep abandonment.

Then a door caught my eye. It was off to the side of the cramped room, bright rays of light seeping through the cracks. Almost like the lights were purposely shining in my eyes, trying to grab my attention.

I started pushing through the thick of kids, the door beckoning me to come closer. Shoving as hard as I could, I found the entrance, teens were not budging. I screamed at them to move, to get out of the way. But to my dismay they acted as if they couldn't hear me; as if I wasn't there. They seemed completely oblivious to my shouting and shoving.