Minutes Before Sunset (2 page)

With his hand, my father waved the idea away. “You can go one night without a guard. It’ll do you some good.”

I agreed quickly and stood. “Thanks, Pops,” I said, knowing I had no intentions of seeing Jonathon on my one night of freedom.

I flipped over and over in my bed, wrapping the covers tighter around my shaking torso. My curly hair fell around me as I shoved my face into my pillow, trying to force the nightmare out of my mind
.
The man—he had gotten so close to me—and I couldn’t move—I couldn’t get away. I placed my cold hand on my burning cheek, and I could still feel his touch.

Trying to fall asleep was impossible. I was too nervous about starting my spring semester in an entirely new school—let alone school at all. My parents’ jobs forced us to move around, and, because of that, I was homeschooled. Now my mom was jobless, and we were living in our hometown in the middle of Midwest nowhere. I was born in Hayworth, but I didn’t remember it. Not at all.

I knew I was adopted, and my family moved us before I could walk, but I didn’t know anything about my biological family except the fact that they were dead. My adopted parents avoided the topic like they avoided settling down. Hayworth wasn’t particularly pretty, but I liked it. Only now, I couldn’t stop thinking about my biological family. How exactly did they die? Who gave me up? Did I have any siblings? Any information gave me control over my life, and now I was having nightmares. How much more complicated did my life have to get?

The stress was too much. I wanted to ignore the world, fall back into sleep, and escape into my dreamland.

“Wake up,” my mother sang as she burst into my room, bubbling with energy.

You have to be kidding me.
I rolled over, pulling the pillow over my head. She was a morning person, as was my father. I was not. 

She opened my curtains and basked in the morning light streaming through my window. “Jessie, I know that you’re dressed and ready to go under those covers,” she said, and I groaned. She was right.

“So what?” I mumbled. 
“Aren’t you excited?” she asked, spinning around until her blonde hair escaped her loose bun. Ever since she gave up her job for the move, she was more of a friend than a mother.

“Not really.”

“Come on, Jessie.” She pulled my covers off and pouted. “You have ten minutes to get in my car before I go to your school without you.”

“When can I start driving to school?” I asked. I was sixteen, not ten.

“When you know where you’re going,” she said. “The sooner you get in the car, the sooner you’ll know where the school is.”

I rolled my eyes, pushing myself out of my warm bed. “Okay. Okay. I’m coming.”

I was off to start my new life, psychotic nightmares or not.

***

The car’s heater blasted hot air into my dry eyes as I stared at the soft, falling snowflakes. For the past two years, we lived in Georgia, and I missed the snow. Winter was ending soon, but I was thankful we’d moved in time to see a snowfall. It was my favorite kind of weather. It reminded me of the hope I held in my biological parents—even more so in Hayworth—but I didn’t know why.

We stopped in front of the school. Freshmen and sophomores trudged inside, their cheeks rosy red from the bitter cold. I didn’t move from the car, even when I saw the parent behind us roll her eyes. These kids were lucky to know who gave them life, yet they didn’t appreciate it. Because they didn’t know what it was like without the luxury.

“Mom?” I said and took a deep breath.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she asked, turning down the roaring heater.

I didn’t respond; instead, I tapped the window, thinking about my restless night—my dream. It had been on my mind since I woke up, but why? I had more important things to worry about.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.

My gaze dropped to my shoes. “Mom.” I paused, choking at the idea of saying it aloud, but then blurted it out. “Would you and Dad be okay if I looked for my biological family?”

My mother sucked in a breath, and I knew her heart had collapsed. My parents argued about moving back to Hayworth, because I had been born here. They moved away immediately for a reason. They wanted to leave my past behind, but I couldn’t. Not anymore.

“This is where I was born,” I said, locking my blue eyes on her brown ones. “This is where my biological family was from—”

“But, honey.” Her softened voice was barely audible. “They died. I thought we went over this.”

“I might have relatives.”

“You don’t,” she said. “The adoptive services showed us the death certificates and explained the situation in detail.”

“But they could’ve missed something,” I said, gripping my backpack.

My mother’s lowered brow placed shadows over her gaze. “They didn’t,” she said firmly. “Hayworth is a small town. You’ll come to see that.”

I dug my nails into my palm, swallowing tears as they threatened to crawl up my throat. “I still want to try.”

She put the car in park, and the car behind us honked before reversing and driving around us. Sighing, Mom leaned against the steering wheel and peered at me from behind her straight, blonde hair—another physical trait opposite of mine. “Sweetheart—”

“I could at least find someone who remembers my biological parents,” I persisted. “I want to know who they were before they died. You’ve never even told me how it happened.”

My mother placed a hand on her wrinkled forehead and breathed into her arm, hiding her face as she shook her head in silence. I slumped in my seat as curious freshman began to stare at our parked car. “Mom—”

“If that’s what you want, Jessie,” she finally said, swiping a tear away. “I’ll support you every step of the way—as long as you keep your grades perfect. Research is a lot of work, and if one grade slips, then the deal is off until you can pass again.”

My lips stretched into a wide grin. “Thank you.” I reached over and wrapped my arms around her neck. “No matter what, you’re still my mom. I’ll always love you.”

She stroked my back before pulling away and smiling. “We’ll worry about your father later, just have a good day.”

Grabbing my backpack, I opened the passenger door. “You, too, Mom,” I added as I shut the car door, watching as she sped away. Her car weaved between the others. The engine’s white smoke curled toward the tires. It was only the beginning of the day, and so much had already happened. I hugged myself, enjoying the cold, and rushed toward the school in delight. A lot could happen in twenty-four hours.

***

The high school was smaller than I expected, but the hallways were smothered with people. Punks, gothics, cheerleaders, dorks, and teachers crowded the entrance, and more flocked to the cafeteria at the end of the hall. I stood in silence, clutching the handle of my small backpack, and my eyes flew over hundreds of new faces. Where was I supposed to fit in? Shaking my head, I was saddened and petrified. How could my parents expect me to fit in? I was starting as a junior, and I’d never even been in a high school.

“Heads up!”

I heard the warning at the last minute and stepped to the side. A McDonald’s coffee cup splattered on the ground, missing the trashcan by a good yard. The light brown liquid soaked into the blue carpet, and the sickening sweet smell of morning filled the hallway.

What had my parents gotten me into?

Seconds later, a tall boy stood next to me, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “Sorry about that,” he said, tilting his face as he met my eyes. Before I knew it, his chestnut-brown gaze slid from my face, to my body, and then a grin plastered his face. “Hey, there.”

I stepped back in disbelief. He hadn’t even tried to hide his interest.

“What’s your name?” he asked, showing off a set of perfectly white teeth.

“Don’t answer that.” A girl interrupted him as she shoved her way in front of the boy. She had dark eyes, pale skin, and nearly white hair despite the black roots. Her lip curled when she looked at the flirtatious boy. “Can’t you back off for one second, Robb?” She smacked her gum, and her lip piercing sparkled.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Not when there’s a pretty girl around.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed.” The punk girl rolled her eyes before focusing on me. “Hey,” she said, smiling and showing her nice side for the first time. “So, you’re the new girl.” So maybe it wasn’t exactly her nice side.

“I’m assuming that’s obvious in a town like this,” I said, smirking, and Robb whistled.

“New girl got spunk,” he said, practically drooling. “But, if you had to ask me, you stand out for reasons other than not being one of the dimwits we went to kindergarten with.” He winked.

“For my stomach’s sake, Robb, it’s seven in the morning,” the girl said before turning to me. “Ignore him. I’m Crystal.”

“Jessie.”

Robb leaned forward. “Jessie—?”

“Jessie Taylor,” I said, taking the time to study them. Neither had backpacks or notebooks. Instead, Crystal carried a small, black purse. Her painted nails were chipped and black. She wore tight jeans and a white jacket that matched her discolored hair. Robb, on the other hand, was a mess.

His brown hair stood in a hundred different directions as if he just woke up, and his blue T-shirt was crinkled and worn. He was wearing short sleeves and shorts. It was January.

“Jessie Taylor?” Crystal asked, and when I nodded, she opened her purse. “Your new name is Jess. I don’t need another Jessie or Emily in this school.”

“But—” I began to argue, but she shook her head.

“No exceptions, Jess,” she said, pulling out pen and paper before jotting down my name.

“Don’t be surprised.” Robb laughed at my dropped jaw and widened eyes. “Crystal’s a journalist like her mother, and she runs our student rumor column.” He patted her on the head. “She knows everything
about this school.”

Crystal rolled her dark eyes at Robb. “Maybe because my best friend is the biggest man whore in the school,” she said, pushing his hand away before meeting my gaze. “Don’t be intimidated. He forgot to mention the fact that my mother and I despise one another, and I’m not nearly as good as her.” She grinned. “But I will be.”

I nodded slowly, taking in all the information. Robb was Crystal’s best friend. Crystal was a journalist, same as her mother, but they hated one another.
Got it. I think.

“So what’s your story, Jess?” Crystal asked, chewing her gum.

“I don’t have one.”

Crystal’s eyes squinted. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Right,” I said, looking away, and she sighed as she put her interview materials away. I grabbed my schedule from my bag as a teacher warned us to get to class.

Robb leaned over his short friend and grinned. “Can I see your schedule?”

I was surprised he wasn’t asking for my cell phone number as well.

I shrugged, handing it over, but Crystal snagged it from my hands and glared at Robb. “Don’t you stalk this girl down,” she said. “She’s nice.”

“Exactly why I want to get to know her.” Robb looked at me. “You, I mean,” he said, stuttering. “I didn’t mean to talk about you like you weren’t here. Right here.”

“It’s okay,” I said, and Robb hung his blushing face before walking away. As he disappeared into the crowd, I shook my head. “He never gives up, does he?”

Crystal groaned. “He’s disgusting,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve known him since birth. There are better guys in Hayworth than him.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry; I’m staying away,” I said. “But thanks for the warning.”

“No problem. It’s my job to make it crystal clear—no pun intended,” she joked as she skimmed over my schedule. “Well, Jess, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

She handed my schedule back, and I raised my brow. “What is it?”

“The good news: we share homeroom, and you’ll be stuck there for the next two years, so you’ll learn to like it.”

I gulped. “What’s the bad news?”

She cringed. “We have the crazy science teacher, and she’ll force us to have a second chemistry class.” Her eyes lit up, and she hit herself on the forehead. “Oh, and Robb just happens to be in it, too.”

I sighed.
So much for escaping his flirtation.

“Can’t wait,” I said, and Crystal linked her arm with mine.

“Jess,” she began. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

My heart beat with excitement. “
Casablanca
?” I asked, recognizing the famous movie line.

She spun us in a tight circle. “I knew I’d like you,” she said, and I grinned. 

“It’s my favorite movie.”

“Mine, too.”

Maybe this high school thing wouldn’t be too hard after all.

“Eric Welborn?”

My teacher, Ms. Hinkel, reached the bottom of her attendance list and called my name.
Always at the bottom.
I raised my hand, and then laid my head on the desk. My head thundered from all the lights and sounds. I was sensitive to everything, but so was every shade, whether they were in their human form or not. School was practically torture.

“Well, at least everyone is here,” Ms. Hinkel said, tapping her manicured nails against her clipboard.

“Not everyone.” Crystal—a girl I’d gone to school with since kindergarten—dragged a girl I’d never seen before up to Ms. Hinkel’s desk. “We have a new student.”

Great.
I turned up my iPod.
More loud students to get through the system.

If I could just make it through this class, I was out of here. I’d had the same homeroom for three years, and I was mentally done. The teacher was crazy, the class was unnecessarily long, and it was fifth hour—my last hour in the day. Unlike the other students, I got to leave every day at the end of fifth hour for work leave. I hated to admit my father had used his connections, but he had, and I was thankful I didn’t have to stay any longer than I already had to.

As long as I had books, I could teach myself. School was pointless nowadays when knowledge was so easily accessible. I didn’t need the institution of education, and it didn’t need me.

Homeroom lasted two hours with a lunch period in between. After lunch, class passed quickly, and I hadn’t listened to a single word of it. Sadly, I doubted I missed anything. When the bell rang, I gladly followed the crowd of students into the hall.

I hated the hallway—it was loud and crowded—but it was my pathway to freedom, so it ranked above the cafeteria. Cranking my music over the noise of the students, I knew the teachers wouldn’t lecture me. Nobody did. Instead, they pitied me—or they were scared of me—I still hadn’t decided.

I was Eric Welborn, son of the richest asshole in town, and we had everything but happiness. That became obvious the minute my mother passed away, even though I blatantly ignored it until my freshman year.

The accident would always haunt me.

I pushed through the crowd until I reached the front door and went outside. At the end of the sidewalk, a silver BMW was parked, engine still running. Within a minute, I had the car door open, and I was staring at an older girl with short black hair and light eyes —Teresa Young, Camille’s human form, and she had the most ironic appearances I knew.

Camille was a half-breed. Her father was a light, and her mother was a shade. They hadn’t even known they were in different sects until Camille was born. After that, Camille’s mother gave her to the Dark, and her parents fled town, leaving her to be raised in the shelter. She was enrolled in class to meet other struggling half-breeds, but she hated the constant reminder that she wasn’t a full-blooded shade. We never talked about it, other than the fact that her appearance and abilities helped me.

At night, she looked like a light, and she retained the light’s abilities of illusion. She could intercept their signals, sense them coming, and fight them with their own strength. She saw this side as a flaw. In reality, it was her most powerful gift. Still, we never talked about it.

After I sat down, Camille twisted her nail polish cap closed and pulled away from the curb. “How was school, Shoman?”

“Eric.”

She rolled her light eyes and tapped the steering wheel. “So how was school, Eric?”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm,” I said, glaring out the window. “You don’t see me calling you Teresa.”

“That’s because I hate my name, and you know it.”

And what if I hate my Dark name?

She sighed, “Sho—Eric,” she paused. “Are you having anybody over tonight?”

“No,” I said, hoping she wasn’t planning on busting my plans. I had freedom—no guard—and she wasn’t going to ruin my only opportunity to figure out what was happening.

“You never have friends over anymore,” she said.

Maybe because I don’t have any.

“Ever since Abby—” she continued, and I shook my head.

“We’re not talking about this, Camille.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, biting her lip as she focused on the road. “But I feel like we used to be such good friends—you, Jonathon, and me—and now you barely talk to us.”

“I have other things on my mind,” I said.
Like that girl I saw last night.

Camille immediately raised her eyebrows. Her job was to guarantee I made it to the Marking of Change alive. If I was up to something, she was supposed to know and tell my father.

“What happened last night?” Camille asked, and my throat tightened.

She hadn’t seen the girl. She would’ve freaked out.

“Nothing,” I said, and she squeezed the steering wheel.

“Then why were you acting so strange?”

“Camille—”

“I’m concerned, Eric,” she said, and I groaned, lying backward in the seat.

“You sound like my mother,” I said, and she shook her head. My mother was dead. I didn’t have to remind her of that.

I gripped my hair and dug my nails into my scalp. “Sorry, Camille,” I muttered, searching for a complicated lie. “My father and Mindy are getting to me.” Personal information would distract the conversation away from last night. “I don’t enjoy having a stepfamily. I never have, and I never will. Especially a human one.”

“Mindy and Noah have been around for two years, Eric.”

Right. Noah.
I had a stepbrother.

“They aren’t even shades,” I said. “I can’t be myself in my own house.”

“To be honest with you,” Camille hesitated, shaking her head. “That’s probably for the best.”

I crossed my arms, but she was right. The Marking of Change was prophesized to happen on my eighteenth birthday. The battle was almost exactly a year from now, and I wasn’t even ready. On top of that, the Light wanted to know anything about me—my name, my identity, where I lived, where I went, what school I attended, anything—just as long as they could kill me before the prophetic battle.

I was constantly hiding, even from myself, and the only time I had exposed myself, Abby died. Other than Camille and Pierce, she was the only shade I had known in both of my worlds. Now she was gone, and it was my fault.

“Eric?” Camille leaned over to catch my eyes, and I realized we were parked in my driveway. I was home.

I picked up my stuff and opened her car door. “Thanks for the ride, Camille,” I said, ducking outside.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” she asked, and I nodded.

“Have a nice night off,” I said, shutting the door before she could continue the worst conversation of all time.

“Shoman.”
Her resonant voice shuddered through me.
“Be careful. I love you.”
She was my best friend, my sister, and my mother figure, yet she couldn’t trust me to be alone. 

“Love you, too.”
I sent a message back, knowing our love was meant for siblings. We weren’t infatuated. That would practically be incest.

Camille’s BMW backed out of the driveway as I burst through the front door. I shut it behind me and listened to Mindy laugh away at my father’s jokes in the kitchen. Our kitchen was on the second floor, next to my bedroom. It was perfect when I was hungry, torture when they were in it. 

I tiptoed upstairs, hoping to avoid the situation, but it was impossible.

“Eric, you’re home,” Mindy said, still chuckling at whatever my father had said.

Damn.

My father raised his brow. “Why don’t you come prepare dinner with us?”

Mindy smiled wide behind her bright red hair. “Noah should be home soon, and he’d just love to spend some time with you.” Noah, my stepbrother, was her ten-year-old brat.

“No, thanks,” I said before she could suggest something dumber. I finished walking down the hallway and disappeared into my bedroom.

Crashing onto my bed, I looked at the small, blue nightlight on my wall.
Stupid thing.
I closed my eyes, enjoying the silence. Nothing was better than a few hours alone in my bedroom, shunning myself from the family.

“I’m home, Mom!” Noah’s high-pitched voice shattered the silence.

“Hi, Noah,” Mindy screamed with enthusiasm. “How was school?”

“It was great.”

Thud!
Noah always dropped his backpack in the middle of the entrance hallway.

My father cleared his throat. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Yeah—” Noah spoke again, but I drowned him out with my stereo—hoping to drown my family out with him. My phone vibrated against my leg, and I jumped up, yanking it out of my jeans.

Text from JStone: Hey, man. Bracke told my father we were flying tonight?

My eyes glided over my phone’s screen, and I gaped at the text. I wanted to go out without Camille tonight, but not to see Jonathon. I wanted to see somebody else—the girl who caught my attention.

“Eric.” My dad knocked on my bedroom door and opened it without permission. He walked in, tossed a dinner plate on my desk, and folded his arms. “I brought you dinner since you don’t want to join your family.”

“Thanks,” I said, continuing to stare at Jonathon’s words.
Now what?

My dad rubbed his hands together. “How was school?” he asked, and I shrugged.

“Okay.”

“That’s good.”

I nodded without meeting his eyes. I knew I was being rude, but I just didn’t care.

“Are you going out with Jonathon tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“That’s great,” he exclaimed, Mindy’s attitude rubbing off his tough exterior. “You boys better be careful, Eric.”

“I always am.”
Another lie.

He left my room, and I was alone again. Mindy’s food suffocated my sense of smell, and I lifted my hand, using my abilities to carry the food through the air until it landed on my bed. I bit into my sloppy Joe and typed in my text.

Text from EWelborn: Change of plans. The old man is forcing me to bond with Noah and Mindy tonight.

I waited for a second, and my phone binged.

Text from JStone: Dang. Well, plan on it soon, because I’m getting sick of hanging out with humans every night.

Text from EWelborn: You’re telling me. I’m with the brat all night.

Text from JStone: Have fun with that.

Text from EWelborn: Ha. Yeah right. See you later, Jonathon.

I flipped my phone over and powered it down. I might not be seeing Jonathon, but I told my father I was. Camille wouldn’t show up at the house, and I was free. At least I was doing something productive.

I was still seeing someone; it was just someone they didn’t know about.