Riley's Redemption (A Moon's Glow Novel) (32 page)

Chapter
One

The Dream

The fact that he was present made
me realize I was dreaming. In reality, he wouldn’t be caught dead talking to
me. It was early evening and I was sitting on one of the swings from my
brother’s old swing set, staring up at the starry sky. It was peaceful, with a
warm breeze gently brushing my face. My hair fell into my eyes. The scent of
lilacs drifted in the air.

I had
just pushed off the ground and swung upwards when I heard a creaking sound
behind me. I glanced back to see him open the gate and walk into our yard. He
smiled at me, his hazel eyes sparkling in the moonlight as he sat down on the
swing next to mine. We sat together silently, swinging gently, looking up at
the moon and the stars.

Suddenly,
a bright light shone from behind us, followed by a very shrill noise…or was it
a scream?

Thump,
thump, thump. My eyes shot open. A banging sound came from somewhere,
interrupting my sleep. I wasn’t ready to wake yet, so I threw the pillow over
my head to muffle the noise.

“Sarah,
get up, Mom’s been calling you,” Alex, my fifteen-year-old brother, bellowed
from the other side of my bedroom door.

“I’m
up,” I yelled, tossing the pillow aside and closing my eyes again.

I
jumped at the sound of another thump. “Go away!” God, can’t anyone sleep in
around here? I heard him stomp down the hall, leaving me to nestle under my
covers to go back to sleep. Just as I was drifting off again, a thought
appeared in my foggy brain; I was supposed to do something, wasn’t I? My eyes
popped open, focusing on the dirt splotch on my ceiling above me left by a ball
I had thrown up years ago. I knew I should wash it off, but I sometimes found
myself staring up at it and seeing shapes in the dust. Once, after studying for
a difficult biology exam, the shape of a happy face appeared. It made me feel
better about the test. But now I lay staring at it trying to figure out what
day it was and then I did. It was Monday and I was late for school. Filled with
panic, I jumped up to have a quick shower.

By the time I was finished
getting ready for school, my mom had already left. There was a note on the
kitchen table telling me that she had taken Alex to school and that I had
better not be late. There was a threat in there too, but I wasn’t worried. She
was pretty lenient—well, only when my dad was away on business. She was always
joking with him that someone had to be the grown-up. My dad was more like a kid
than an adult, more like a friend than a father. My brother and I were lucky in
the parent department. Yes, my mother was a little more responsible than my
dad, but we didn’t really have many rules. She trusted us to make the right
choices. She was very good with guilt, so before I did something stupid, I
would think of the guilt trip she’d lay out…and change my mind.

I
took a juice box and a granola bar from the pantry, grabbed my coat off the
hook and headed out the door.

It
was hot and sunny out and I instantly regretted the coat. Shaking it off, I ran
to my car, a used silver-blue, two-door SUV I got for my sixteenth birthday. It
was a bribe from my mother to make me go to Hadley Academy. Even though I only
lasted at the snooty school for six months, I was able to keep the bribe. It
was an older car, but that was okay, it had character. So what if the passenger
side door stuck on rainy days and it sometimes smelled of pipe tobacco? It was
all part of the charm and besides, it was free. I paid for the insurance and
gas with the money I made working at the multiplex. With only a few shifts a
week, I didn’t make a lot. But I was pretty good at saving.

As I
drove, I noticed that only a few leaves had changed. It was the second week of
September and this beautiful weather wasn’t going to last long.

I
arrived at my school, Hamilton High, a large dull-gray stone building that
slightly resembled a prison. Considering my last school, I was okay with its
appearance.

Parking
in the student parking lot wasn’t always easy, since I was usually late. I was
often left with the spot furthest from the entrance and today was no different.

Rushing
to the front doors, I noticed my mom’s car, a candy-red convertible. It was her
gift to herself after she turned forty. She worked here, unfortunately, as the
vice principal. It’s not as bad as it sounds, having a mother that works at
your school. With a building this size, I didn’t see her that often. This was
my last year of high school anyway. In the fall, I was heading to NYU for their
teaching program; I was going to become a music teacher. I had been playing the
piano since I was five. My mother’s dream for me was to follow in her footsteps
and become a teacher, so I thought combining our dreams was a good compromise.

 I
was running from my locker, after having put my bag inside, when the bell rang.
Crap. I was late again. I’m not good with mornings, so this happens every so
often.

Just
as I turned the corner heading to my first period English class, I slammed into
someone. Our sneakers squeaked against the white tile as we collided. A pile of
books fell to the floor in a heap.

I
bent down to pick them up. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, but the words were
barely out of my mouth before the person took off down the hall.

It
was a guy and he had picked up his books so fast, I didn’t even see his face.
All I noticed was the back of his head as I watched him run off. His hair was
shaggy and brown and he was quite a bit taller than my five foot five. The gray
sweatshirt and jeans he wore weren’t helpful at identifying him either, since a
lot of kids in school dressed that way.

“Miss
Samson, is there a reason you’re loitering in the hallway when class is
starting?”

Turning
toward the voice, I saw Mr. Henderson standing in front of his classroom. He
was short and stout with a receding hair line that made his forehead look
gigantic. And since his glasses always fell to the bridge of his nose, no
matter how many times he pushed them back, a few kids made fun of him.  I,
however, would never do such a thing.

“You
wouldn’t want me to report you to your mother, would you?” he said in a snarly
tone.

“I’m
going,” I mumbled as I took off in the direction of my first class.

I
wasn’t that late. The kids were just getting settled, opening their books and
getting out their pens, when I snuck into my seat.

“You’re
late,” Derrick, one of my best friends, whispered from behind me. Miss
Reynolds, our English teacher, was just starting her lesson and didn’t notice
him talking. “We’re meeting Emma outside today for lunch,” he whispered again.
I nodded my head, focusing on the rest of the lesson.

My
next class was my favorite, music and part of the reason I liked it so much was
the teacher, Miss. Fitzgerald. She had long auburn hair that was always pulled
back in a braid and she constantly wore long flowing skirts with peasant
blouses. I once heard Mr. Henderson call her a Bohemian.

For
the last week we had been studying a piece she composed. It was complex and
challenging to learn; luckily, I loved a challenge. I was to play the piano for
the piece and was excited for the night we would get to perform for the school
and our parents. We were working on our own today, each of us learning our
parts.

I was
lost in the music when Miss Fitzgerald came over and stood beside me. My
fingers stilled as I glanced up at her. “Wonderful, Sarah, you're doing great.
I can’t wait to hear the whole piece. Julliard will be lucky to have you,” she
said, smiling. Her arms were crossed in front of her as she leaned on the edge
of the piano.

“Thank
you, Miss Fitzgerald. But I doubt I’ll get a job there after college.”

“Sarah,
you could be a concert pianist and yet you choose to teach. They should welcome
you with open arms.”

I
blushed, unable to hide my excitement at her words, even though I couldn’t get
my hopes up. I had always wanted to teach there, but I knew it was a difficult
position to acquire. I would just have to wait and see.

Her
words put me in a good mood and after class was over, I headed to my locker,
humming the tune I had been playing.

I had
to ditch my books and get my lunch. As I fumbled with my locker door, my arms
loaded with books, a blue spiral notebook slipped out of my fingers and landed
on the floor with a thump.

I
bent down to pick it up and realized it wasn’t my name scrawled on the front,
it was Lucas Tate’s. His loopy handwriting was barely legible. Why did I have
his book? I shoved it into my locker and ran outside to meet my friends; I’d
figure it out later.

They
were at one of the far picnic tables. Since it was still warm outside, a lot of
the tables that were placed throughout the schoolyard were occupied with other
students that wanted to enjoy the sunshine.

I
strolled toward them, in no hurry, enjoying the heat of the sun on my face and
the scent of grass as the janitor chugged along the football field on his
riding lawn mower. The low purr of his motor, mixed with the temperature, made
it feel like springtime. But we weren’t so lucky; it was only a matter of time
before the air would turn cold. “Hey, guys” I said, sitting down next to Emma.

Derrick
was on the other side and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been staring into
each other’s eyes. They both had a huge crush on each other, but neither of
them would admit it. The only reason I could think of for them to hold back
their feelings was that we all had been best friends forever. Whether that was
the reason or not, I had no idea.

“I
heard you were late again,” Emma mumbled, her mouth full of ham sandwich.

I
opened my lunch, taking out the pepperoni and cheese sandwich, saving the apple
and caramel snack cake for later. “I wasn’t that late and besides, it wasn’t my
fault. I bumped into someone and had to pick up my books.” I didn’t mention
that I was running late before that happened.

Derrick
opened his mouth to speak, except I wasn’t listening. I just realized why I had
Lucas’ book. It was him that I bumped into. That explained the fast departure.

Lucas
Tate was his twin brother. And by his, I mean Logan Tate, the most popular guy
in school, although nobody could figure out why. He was kind of a jerk, but got
away with it because of his looks. He was the type of guy you could stare at
all day, but hoped wouldn’t speak. He was also the boy who starred in my dream
last night.

Emma
waved her hand in front of my face. “What are you thinking about?”

Snapping
out of my own thoughts, I looked over at her. “I just figured out who it was I
bumped into this morning.”

Derrick
glanced at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, you just
figured it out? How could you not know, were your eyes closed?” He smirked at
his own joke.

I
blinked at him. “Ah…no, but he ran off before I saw who it was. When I was
putting my books away, I realized I had an extra one, with Lucas Tate’s name on
it.”

Emma’s
eyes widened. “Well, that explains it.” She looked away from us as Martin
Macpherson, star quarterback and the object of my six-month-long crush in tenth
grade, rushed by, chasing after a fellow team member, Rudy Myer, who cradled a
football. She gave me a knowing glance as my cheeks heated from habit more than
actual interest and then continued. “He never talks to anyone.”

She
was right. Lucas was Logan’s twin brother, but they were nothing alike. Logan
loved to be the center of attention while Lucas went out of his way to avoid
it. The only people I ever saw him with were his two best friends Andy Taylor
and Kyle Roberts. They were good guys. I had a few classes with them and we’ve
talked some.

Lucas
was different in another way from his brother. He wore glasses and kept his
coffee-colored hair long, almost reaching his shoulders, as if he didn’t care
what it looked like. Logan’s was always cut short and styled to perfection and
he always dressed in the latest styles. Lucas, however, wore sweatshirts and
jeans almost every day.

I was
deep in thought when I heard Derrick’s voice. “What is wrong with girls in this
school?”

“What
are you talking about?” Emma asked, tossing back her long red curls and batting
her thick lashes over her olive-green eyes. Why didn’t Derrick see when she was
flirting?

“Look
at Allison Morey over there flirting with Logan. He treats people like crap and
stupid girls like her still hang all over him, just because he’s a pretty boy.”
He shook his head. “I just don’t get it.”

While
he was ranting, I glanced over to where Logan was sitting with his friends and
sure enough, there were a few girls flaunting themselves at him.

“Don’t
ask us, you don’t see me or Sarah over there, do you?” Emma defended us as
girls who went to this school. I really couldn’t tell them that I was dreaming
about him after this. It was true what they were saying and I was not
interested in Logan at all. Well, only to look at maybe. But why would I dream
about him?