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Prom
night has never been so frightening and romantic. Jewel is out of control,
taking dangerous risks on the after party yacht when she discovers a sexy bad
boy wading out in the deep ocean with a hot girl clawing at his body. What are
they doing? They could be killed. Jewel is immediately attracted to him and
recognizes him from reoccurring dreams.
Here is the preface and the first chapter:
Copyright© 2013 by
Brighton Hill
Blueisland
Watermagic
Series, #4
by Brighton Hill
Sabine’s School of Mers Formed Twenty
Five Years Ago on an Island in the Atlantic Ocean
This is how Jewel, Savannah,
Emily, Logan, Andrew, Steve, and Jane became a family
Preface
Back
in tenth grade my high school only had three baton twirlers and I was one of
them. Geeky—that’s an understatement. I must have been crazy to volunteer
because everyone thought twirlers were total nerds. At least that’s the way it
was at my high school. It wouldn’t have mattered what other people thought so
much if they left me alone. But, you know how it is, kids love to bully the
underdog.
I
should have known that, but at the time my mind was in other places. Mostly, I
just wanted to get my mom who had been a baton twirler in high school to notice
me more than her druggy boyfriend who had become her number one obsession. It
was my hope that if I followed in her footsteps, she would come to the football
games to watch my dances and love me again.
That
didn’t happen. I don’t think she even knew I was ever a baton twirler. I told
her, but she just couldn’t listen to a damn thing I said. “Not, now, Jewel,”
she sighed waving me away with her hand. Instead, I became the school buffoon
all for nothing.
We
wore these out of style maroon colored body suits with lots of sequins and
fringe around the hips that made my classmates laugh. I understood because the
design made me cringe. I was more of a simple, plain dressed girl with messy
brown hair and all that gaudy flash and sparkle wasn’t my thing. And, aside
from the pathetic costumes, I was so skinny from malnutrition. Because my
mother was so wrapped up in Steve’s life, she kept forgetting to pick up the
food stamps from the government office. That year I looked like I was dying. A
pale, waify teenager in a goofball leotard wasn’t a pretty sight.
The
other two twirlers weren’t much to look at either. The poor girls were as fat
as elephants. Mary had short, curly orange hair that looked like a clown’s wig
and Genie wore six pony tails on her head and had glasses as thick as storefront
windows. People called them the bun sisters and me the baloney girl. I was the flat
piece of meat between the buns. A popular football player named Jake Stevenson
came up with that one. What a moron.
Well,
one dark night when the moon was full in the sky and the stars were falling
like sad tears, I waited in my baton twirler costume for my uncle to pick me up.
Somebody had stolen my backpack with my clothes in it. Everyone had already left
the football game except for that jerk, Jake Stevenson. He was standing there
under the light of the moon by the back fence that closed in the bleachers. Most
everyone considered him good looking with his brown short hair and muscular
physique, dark eyes that switched back and forth, but he wasn’t my type.
Jake
kept glancing over at me from across the parking lot as he chucked rocks at a
metal trashcan. I wished my uncle would hurry up. I knew he probably wouldn’t show up like he
promised, but I had to wait until ten just in case before walking home
otherwise he’d whip me good.
My
body tensed as I noticed Jake was walking through the parking lot toward me. “Razzle,
my dazzle,” he called to me, strutting a little more suavely than I was used to
seeing. He was teasing me about my last name, Razzen. He liked to make fun of
me at school too. “Whatchya doing out here all alone?” He winked as if that was
cool or something. What an idiot.
He
stopped right before me and leaned his hand against the wooden light pole next
to where I stood. Looking at him made me very uncomfortable and I felt even
more awkward talking to him in my French cut costume with the fringe blowing in
the night wind.
I
swallowed hard, the heat rising up to my cheeks. “I’m waiting for my ride.” My
voice was more of a whisper because he made me nervous. Just because he was
popular didn’t make him good.
His
shifty eyes glanced at his watch. “If your folks haven’t picked you up yet,
they aren’t coming.” His low voice lifted teasingly. Whatever!
Well,
I’m embarrassed to say, tears welled up in my eyes. I think the fight I had
with my mother’s boyfriend after school was making me feel out of whack. Steve
said he was thinking about putting me in foster care. Jerkoff.
But
Jake Stevenson didn’t have to rub it in that my family didn’t give a crap about
me. I turned away so he wouldn’t see how I was feeling, being so pathetic and
all. “You’re probably right,” I said coldly without looking at him. Before he
could respond, I started to walk away.
But
he jogged up to me as I crossed the parking lot and grabbed hold of my frail shoulder
spinning me around. We were standing in a dimmer part of the lot now where the
light from another lamppost was flickering on and off. The dark shadows and
flashes of light on his angular face made me uneasy. There was something about
the look in his eyes that were much steadier now that made my skin crawl.
“There’s
no one around,” he said, looking through the parking lot and back up toward the
stadium.
I
rolled my eyes. “That’s obvious.” My voice was sarcastic because I didn’t know
how else to act to such an absurd comment.
“Let
me give you a ride,” he suggested. “My Camero is over there.” He pointed at the
black sports car.
I
knew a lot of girls who would die to go anywhere with Jake Stevenson in his Camero,
but I wasn’t one of them. “No, thanks. I want the fresh air.”
He
smiled, one eye narrowed more than the other. “I’ll roll down the windows. Take
off the T-tops. Can’t get more wind than that.” To my surprise, he took my
hand.
That
made me even more uncomfortable. His palms were clammy and hot. “Thank you for
the offer, but I think I need some alone time.” I tried to drop his hand, but
he clasped it tighter. Even though it was cool out, my forehead was perspiring
and a thin stream of sweat rolled down my back where my costume was too baggy.
“I
won’t take no for an answer.” He started leading me to his car. “It’s dangerous
for a little girl like you to walk home at night. I won’t have it.”
He
was right. It wasn’t safe for a girl to walk home at night by herself. I was
used to that sort of thing and had learned to hide in the shadows and run
behind the bushes so passing cars wouldn’t notice me. But I knew that was risky
all the same. I would probably be better off hitching a ride from the moron. My
best friend Savannah would just die to hear I got a ride home with the one and
only hot Jake Stevenson. Just giving her that thrill made it worth it. We’d
have something to laugh about. But even still, I didn’t feel good about it.
“Come
on, come on,” he said, opening the door with a smile on his face.
His
insistence surprised me. He acted almost caring. I think that’s what got me to
lose my mind and go against my own better judgment. This was not the way I
perceived him at all. So even though I didn’t want to go with him, I did. I
should have never ignored that warning in my gut because my life was never the
same since. For a long time after, all I could hear in my head was his
groaning, “You want it, girl. You want it.” And then, there were my screams:
“No! No!” The blood was the worst part. So much blood.
Chapter One
Almost Two Years Later
“Party
on,” I yelled out to my classmates on the deck below as I edged my way up the
mast of the yacht we rented to celebrate senior prom.
Below
me, I heard some football players chanting, “Raz, Raz, Raz…” They saw me as a
tomboy and apparently liked to tease me about it. I didn’t care if they thought
of me as a dude—I just wanted to get away from it all.
“That
whore’s a geek,” one guy said. My blood boiled at that. I just knew that was
Jake Stevenson. He loved to put me down. If I could, I would kill him with my
bare hands. Nobody knew him like I did. And I would never tell a soul the truth
about him. “Baloney Girl,” he yelled, even though I quit baton twirling after
that night that he drove me home.
Some
stupid girls were screaming too. I heard blond, beautiful Emily Monroe crying,
“Get her down—she could die!” She was just another one of the phonies I wanted
to avoid. We used to be friends in elementary school, but that all changed once
she became popular.
Like,
I cared if I died. That was what I wanted, I thought as I took another swig of
vodka from the bottle I was holding.
During
the dance earlier, Emily Big Boobs and I had been crowned prom queens. It was
the first tie in school history, they said. Whoop-dee-do! What a joke.
I
knew the principal and teachers elected me because of what happened to my
mother and that Emily was the real queen chosen by the other students of our
senior class. I wasn’t the glamorous, popular type with my shaggy brown mess of
hair and childish body in boy jeans. I didn’t even run for prom queen. People
who run for those things are idiots. And, anyway, the only reason I even got a
date to the dance was because Donny Smith’s so called girlfriend dumped him for
Jake Stevenson and he needed someone to go with.
But
Emily was thrilled to get the honor and after the dance she insisted we wear
the idiotic crowns the entire night even though I had already changed back into
my jeans and t-shirt. Every time I took the dang crown off, she put it back on
my head. It was so absurd that it almost became funny. I said almost because in truth it was just
annoying.
My
arms started to ache as I pulled myself up the sleek lengthy pole. The night
wind was thrilling as it thrashed through my tangled hair, but it knocked the crown
off my head and onto the deck. Once it landed, Emily let out a loud sob. “Oh,
no! Jewel Razzen’s beautiful tiara!”
The
clouds were thick above, graying in the night and the air was fresh and salty. The
higher I got, the less obtrusive the sounds below became. And even in my mental
state, I relished in the escape. Screw them all—superficial snobs.
With
the view around me, my mind drifted to other thoughts. The ocean is awesome. Since
childhood, I’d been obsessed with the vast underwater depths and all its life
forms. I used to dream of sailing the seas. In my fantasies I found sparkling
treasures and was romanced by the same confusing guy of mythological wonders.
Maybe
that was why I found high school a bore with its rules and predictabilities. The
social cliques were absurd. Why can’t people just be who they are rather than
something that everybody else expects them to be? I wanted adventure, magic,
and passion. That’s why I was damn glad that we would be graduating next week,
so I could get away from Sunshine Coast.
When
I reached the top of the mast, I guzzled down the rest of the vodka, relishing
the burn in my throat. I pulled the note I wrote earlier out of my jeans pocket
and pushed it inside of the empty bottle before capping it. And without further
thought, I chucked the thing hard and fast out into the ocean as planned. More
screams. Jerks were below me. I’m not joking. Like I would smash their heads
with glass. I wasn’t such a douche bag.
At
that thought, I broke off the flag flapping violently in the wind. Feeling as
free as a bird, I waved my prize in the air. A part of me wanted to just let go
entirely and fall through the night, plummet into the thrashing water and drown
like my mother did six months ago.
I
pushed the flag in my jeans pocket and grasped onto the mast now with both
hands. Two years of gymnastics gave me enough upper body strength to support my
waify body for a while. I had filled out some over the last couple of years. The
sounds below were muffled now from the approaching storm. It was good to have
relief from their jabber.
I
yearned to see the stars, but they weren’t visible through the thick masses of
graying clouds. But then, through the wind, I thought I heard the voice of my
best friend, Savannah Kilmore. We went through some unconventional and hardcore
Girl Scouts together as kids. Nobody’s been in a troop like ours. This wasn’t
some prissy kind of club like you might expect. It was downright dirty. Even
our cookie sales kicked ass—#1 in the country.
“Raz—get
the hell down.” The words sort of washed through the wind, so I wasn’t certain
if it was Savannah or someone else.
I
gazed out at the immense black ocean. The unpredictability of the great expanse
mesmerized me in its vastness. My view was so open and dark with just specks of
light on the water. That kind of beautiful kills me.
The
yacht started to slow and come to a stop out in the middle of the ocean. It was
probably a whale sighting. The captain said he would stop for those. I heard
people running to the other side of the deck away from where I was at.
My
thoughts began to blend into the night. A sort of serenity started to take over
my senses. I felt tired, sort of dreamy like I was floating. My mind was on a
good buzz. That went on for some time. But just as my eyes started to lower,
the strangest thing happened that jarred my senses.
Holy
crap! A flash of light. Did I see what I thought I saw? Could it be? I rubbed
my eyes with one hand as I looked out at the ocean.
I
seemed to perceive something glowing beneath the dark waters. It looked like sparkly
lights jetted through the waves and across the surface. Did someone lace my
vodka with something? My body tensed as my breath quickened. Was there some
sort of submarine shining lights up at us?
But
the lights appeared to grow more prominent and grander like fireworks shooting
out from the depths. My adrenaline rushed fast now. What the hell could that
be?
Suddenly,
to my utter shock, a guy about my age maybe a little older swam up through the
spray. I felt my heart pounding hard against my chest. I could hardly breathe.
My
mind raced with so many thoughts, but I swear he looked like the same guy from
my dreams. It couldn’t be. He appeared to be about nineteen or twenty. His skin
was an enticing shimmer. I tried to gain focus. In the light, his eyes looked fiercer
and bluer than mine—more stunning like that of a tropical sky. It looked like his
hair was long and dark with a masculine array of jewels woven into his locks.
But
he didn’t seem like a nice guy. He looked downright mean with scratch marks on
his stunning face. I wasn’t sure but I thought I saw a tribal design tattoo on
his shoulder kind of like the one I had on mine. He bit down hard on his lip
and closed his eyes as his body shuddered briefly while exhaling. The only time
I had seen an expression like that was in a movie that I shouldn’t have been
watching. He swung his head of long hair up and to the side sending a spray of
water out that glistened in the light.
Suddenly,
he peered up at me for a moment and snarled. I shook my head in astonishment.
My body shivered. I couldn’t believe my eyes. What was this? It wasn’t possible
for a guy to swim so far out into the ocean. Did he swim out of a submarine
somehow? I don’t think that was possible. Or was it? No, no, no. Crap. Was his
boat anchored nearby and I just hadn’t seen it in the dark sea? Maybe he dove
in for a short swim before returning to his vessel. What an odd thing to do.
What
were the lights? And then, as I was trying to figure it out, suddenly, some
hands shot out of the lit water below him and grabbed onto his body. It
happened so fast. Long nails dug into his neck causing his forehead to frown. At
once, a girl surfaced and kissed along his neck. He brushed her off. The girl
was utterly gorgeous with long ass hair too. Then to make matters even weirder,
suddenly a whole bunch of feminine hands shot out of the water at once and
pulled the stunning couple under.
What
the hell? I was shaking. This didn’t make sense. I kept looking out, waiting
for them to resurface, but they did not. A group of people had just drowned them.
This was crazy. It couldn’t be happening. Was I going insane? My heart
tightened so tight just like the evening when the police officer told me my
mother was dead.
Who
swims at night out in the middle of the ocean? It is dangerous to swim up so
close to a yacht. What if the captain started it up again? The propellers could
shred them to pieces. What kind of reckless teenagers would take such risks?
And who would swim after them?
This
guy wasn’t even normal looking and neither was she. Hello! He was gorgeous, the
epitome of my ultimate fantasy, anyone’s ultimate fantasy—the vision of a
pirate-ess out at sea too long perhaps. Yet, we had only been on the ocean for
a few hours. And he looked so much like the guy from my dreams. Some kind of
demented serendipity perhaps? And now he was dead.
A
strange feeling swept over me. How could my reoccurring dreams actually be
real? I felt like I knew this guy. During those whims, we swam together to a far
off island, hung out in his secret tree house in the jungle, and messed around
in a cave behind the waterfalls.
The
engine to the yacht started back up. The other kids were back from looking on
the other side of the yacht for the whales now, talking amongst themselves
below me. I couldn’t reason away what I had seen. I wasn’t prone to
hallucinations. Sure I was buzzing, but that never made me this loony before.
There was no way I imagined that. I wasn’t that creative.
Crap!
Suddenly, the yacht rocked in a jolting start and I lost my grip in the thrust.
At once, I flew backwards. Oh God! Girlish screams sounded from below. I was
upside down now with my legs wrapped around the pole above me as my heart
slammed against my ribcage.
I
hadn’t expected that. Adrenaline rushed through my body again. That felt good,
like I was alive. Now or never, I
thought. With that, I drew in a quick breath and tried to inch my legs down the
pole, but the position was awkward. Damn! A bead of sweat rolled off my
forehead. Just do it, I told myself.
So
at once, I just let go and threw myself upwards. Somehow, I managed to grab the
pole as I fell and I slid down fast. My thoughts were spinning in my mind, but
to my surprise, I landed upright on the deck, relatively unscathed.
Everybody
down below in their prom dresses and tuxes rushed over to me. It was like a
sequin, satin nightmare. What a pathetic scene of teeny boppers. It was like I
was on the set of Beverly Hills 90210.
“Put
this back on your head,” Emily insisted as she set the crown atop my windblown
hair. She probably didn’t even notice that my face was as white as a ghost. I was
disappointed that the rush of danger was leaving my body. I hated that dead
feeling that weighed down upon me.
“You
should be more careful,” she complained, cracking her knuckles. “And whoever
saw a queen without any makeup on.” She pulled some lipstick out of her
sequined purse and ran it over my lips before I grabbed her hand and threw it off.
I glared at her much too intensely.
Rolling
her eyes, she turned away. She wasn’t afraid of me even though she should have
been. “You are out of control,” she huffed as she repositioned the homecoming
king’s, Logan Townsend’s, crown on his head now like she was in charge of both
of us.
Logan
Townsend, with his brown short curls and swamp green eyes was an arrogant snob.
It didn’t matter that his nose was crooked because all the girls wanted him
anyway and nobody cared that he flunked two grades. Maybe that was because he
was acting on a soap opera in Los Angeles and that made it okay—whatever!
When
I was a kid, I wished Logan would ask me out just as most everyone did, but I
knew that would never happen. He didn’t like skinny rag dolls. He was better
off for it because after one night, I’d just grow bored. I wasn’t much for
attachments. And I didn’t like the smell of his cologne.
As
expected, Logan didn’t even notice me. He was busy staring at Emily and her big
tits spilling part way out of her sequined formal as was every other guy in our
high school.
I
tried to ignore them as I looked over at my prom date, bony Donny Smith in his
vintage tuxedo. He was nice and intelligent with his glasses and shy face. He
wasn’t my type though, kind of waify like me, but taller. Yes, he was better
than the brainless jock idiots that chanted my name when I was climbing the
mast, but still, he could never really understand me. And he was only with me
because I was his last resort.
“Raz—I
was worried about you,” Donny mumbled awkwardly, sticking his hands in his
pockets and leaning more on one leg than the other.
His
hair was sandy blond and just a little frizzy. He looked good enough with his
chiseled features, but I preferred the dark waves of hair and confidence of my
dream guy in the vision I had seen in the sea just minutes before. Too bad he
was with another girl and too bad they probably drowned. My heart clenched at
the thought, not knowing what to make of it all. A sort of ugly nausea waded in
my belly. And even if they were still alive and kicking, a guy like that would
never be interested in a girl like me in real life.
The
muscles in Donny’s thin forearms flexed as the wind rushed over. I noticed the
way he scrunched his eyes when he looked at me too long. It made me wonder if
he was detecting a pimple between my eyebrows or something. I bet he wanted to
pop it.
He
was about to say something else when Savannah smacked me on the back. “You
scared us, girl.” She pulled her blouse down over her hips. Her dark straight
hair was in disarray. “What were you doing up there?”
“I
wanted the flag.” I lifted the thing out of my pocket and cocked an eyebrow. “Did
you see that in the ocean?”
But
before she could respond, Donny started pulling me by my belt loop, which took
me by surprise. He was leading me with the crowd back into the party room. I smiled
wryly at Savannah as I grabbed my backpack stocked with another bottle of vodka
and followed Donny inside. From the look on Savannah’s face, I guessed she
hadn’t seen anything in the ocean except maybe whales. Everybody must have
missed it because they were all on the other side of the yacht looking at
blubber, otherwise everybody would have been freaking out.
My
classmates took to the tables, the bar, or the dance floor. Donny and I went
with some other friends to play cards at a round wooden table off to the side
of the room. A lot was going on for a boat ride. And people were making too much
of it, posing for pictures in their stupid evening attire. Weirdo Harry
Kingerton with ginger hair and skinny legs pulled up Ashley Baker’s dress. Her
face turned as red as a tomato before she swung around and slapped Harry across
the cheek. And then his dopey friends pulled him away like wannabe heroes as
she cursed him out. He just laughed like a horse, blowing air out of his freckled
nose and snorting.
As
we sat at the round table, I noticed Donny watching preppy Albert Martinez a
little too intently while he shuffled the deck of cards. That just made me
wonder why he was so focused on him. Did he know that he and I went together in
elementary school? That was a short, awkward relationship that never even made
it to first base.
“What’s
wrong?” I asked Donny, my eyebrows drawing together.
“I
don’t really like games,” he responded while running his fingers through the
frizzy sections of his hair. His nails kept getting caught in fine tangles that
he ripped through. “You just lose all your money and the only way to win is to
cheat.”
What?!
That’s what he was thinking? I tried not to roll my eyes, but instead forced a
smile and nodded empathetically. But then I started thinking about his
confession. Who the hell doesn’t like cards? And who cheats? What was he
talking about? His admittance irritated me. I wanted to hang out with Savannah
and try to have fun—attempt to forget my problems. I loved games of all sorts. Now
I was stuck with a prom date that was as boring as hell.
“Please
don’t make me play.” He scrunched up his nose and searched my eyes.
My
eyelids shot up. Was he kidding? I wasn’t making him do anything. At first I
laughed thinking he was joking, but when his eyes widened and his lips pressed
shut, I realized he was serious.
Trying
to keep a pokerfaced expression on my face, I twisted a strand of my shaggy
dark hair in my fingers and observed him as he tapped his fingers on the table.
Even though he was kind of awkward, he was a pleasant enough guy. Give him a
chance my inner voice urged. Don’t be so afraid of everyone.
I
decided not to mind if he was a little difficult and odd. I mean, I wasn’t
exactly a barrel of laughs. At least he wasn’t a phony like so many other kids
at my school. And at least he wasn’t a monster like Jake Stevenson.
I
vaguely wondered what he was interested in. It was hard to believe now, but Donny
used to be popular with the girls in middle school. In seventh grade he teased
me a lot in a sort of flirtatious way, but nothing ever came of that. It
probably meant nothing to him. That was probably just his way with girls at the
time.
Now
he wasn’t at all as good looking and gregarious. He seemed different, not
really the popular type anymore. That was a good thing, but I wasn’t sure what
he was. Often I saw him sitting off by himself at school reading. I heard he
was a surfer. That was probably why his hair looked so sun bleached with the
frizz on the ends.
There
was laughter. I looked away from Donny at our circle of friends at the table. Savannah
and the others were joking around. She cut the deck before Albert dealt the
cards.
“Why
don’t we lounge over on the sofa and just talk then?” I wasn’t in a
conversational mood, but I didn’t want to be ornery either.
“That’s
cool.” He looked relieved, so I was glad I’d made the suggestion even if it
could lead to some awkward dialogue. “As long as I’m with you,” He coughed
looking down and then back up at me with his puppy dog brown eyes.
His
comment surprised me. Was he flirting with me? I wasn’t sure how I felt about
it. But, to my surprise, the more I looked at him, the more I decided he was still cute in a different kind of
way. That was probably the alcohol tricking my senses and the awful loneliness
that I felt deep in the pit of my stomach that never seemed to go away no
matter how many people I was around.
But
he wasn’t the guy for me. Was I leading him on somehow? I hoped he didn’t think
anything was going to happen between us because I accepted his date to the
prom.
I
stood there for a minute thinking about what he said while he ordered sodas at
the bar for us. He handed me the glass a little clumsily as we sat down on the
plush sofa. “I’m so pissed off at my mom,” he said suddenly.
“Why’s
that?” I shifted my position uncomfortably. I didn’t like thinking about
mothers now that mine was dead. And even at that, I was surprised at his sudden
intensity. I wasn’t used to people opening up about their feelings so quickly,
if ever.
“She
called the swim team coach and told him I can’t participate at the special end
of the year meet.”
I
unzipped my backpack and reached inside for my vodka bottle as I glanced around
the room for narcs or teachers on staff. They were all in a social huddle
talking and joking with each other. The students purposely asked the younger,
less strict faculty to chaperone us. “Why doesn’t your mother want you in the
meet?” I asked now looking over at Savannah who was raking in the money from
all her wins. I wished I could join the game. Family issues weren’t my thing.
“She
put me on restriction when she caught me making out with Liddy Devonshire in
her bedroom.” He laughed and leaned back, crossing his leg over his knee.
“You’re
dating Liddy?” I knew all about her. She was his original prom date who dumped
him, the girl with a big ass that made all the guys excited when they looked at
her. I don’t know why guys think it is appealing to talk about other girls
they’ve been with. It’s a huge turn off. And Liddy was way too hot for Donny. I
could have seen that relationship in middle school, but not now.
“Not
anymore.” He smiled. “If I was, I wouldn’t be here with you.”
I
was relieved the subject had at least moved away from mothers, but the other
stuff confused me. My mind twisted up with thoughts as I unscrewed the lid to
the vodka bottle and poured some into my soda. “Why did you stop dating?” Why
the hell did I just ask that? Stupid.
He
looked uncomfortable with the question, but when I held up the bottle to offer
him some he smirked and shook his head somewhat amused. “We weren’t in a
relationship and now she’s going out with Jake Stevenson.”
My
body tensed. “Jake’s a prick,” I said shifting in my seat.
“No
kidding.” He frowned. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like he started to perspire
on his forehead.
I
followed Donny’s eyes as he looked over at the other kids. Jake had his hand on
Savannah’s shoulder as she cut the deck for the next round. I cringed. Heat
rose up from my chest to my cheeks. “You want it, girl. You want it,” I
imagined him saying. I wanted to jump up and sock him in the face, but I knew
that would not be smart.
As
upset as I felt, I imagined that Savannah loved getting attention from that ass.
Like everyone else, she thought he was hot. Savannah hadn’t seen his bad side
like I had. If Savannah’s date hadn’t gotten sick at the prom and went home,
maybe Jake would have laid off. If he got too friendly, I’d have to step in.
With
that thought, I looked over at Liddy to see if she was angry that Jake was
flirting with Savannah, but from a distance, it appeared as if she was busy trying
to talk to the new French girls I heard about, Brigitte Couture and Marine
Thibault. Oh my—those vixens weren’t even normal.
Though
I kept glancing over at Jake to make sure he didn’t get too friendly with
Savannah, the French girls caught my focus over everyone else. I had never seen
them close up. They were gazing out into the room in no particular direction,
seemingly uninterested in Liddy’s chatter. From where I was at, the rumors were
right—they looked like divine creatures with jewels and sparkling trinkets in
their long hair. Their bodies were sleek and perfect. And their faces were as
stunning as movie stars or super models, but they had a dangerous air that got
me wondering about them.
Donny
shook his head in bewilderment. “I love swimming and I don’t think it’s fair
that my mom would punish me for doing something so normal like kissing a girl.”
His Adam’s apple lifted in his throat.
Oh
boy—back to his mother again. “You’re right.” I responded, not knowing what to
say. I was squinting to get a clearer look at the pearl ensemble in Brigitte’s
long shiny black hair, but I could not get my focus. I rubbed my eyes.
Everything about her looked exotic.
“My
mom is so annoying too,” he continued, biting his already chewed up nails.
“What
do you mean?” I cringed as I took a drink of my soda and tried to ignore what he
was saying. Crap, I wanted this conversation to end. I felt my palms sweating.
That was really bothering me.
“She’s
always singing these dumb country western songs around the house. She thinks
she’s going to be the next big star.”
I
turned to him, stretching my arms over my head. “Maybe she’ll audition for
American Idol?” The more I looked at him, the more his face started to blur.
Maybe I was drunk.
Donny’s
face lit up. “That is exactly what she’s trying to do! She’s so pathetic.” He
ran his fingers over the gelled part of his hair and then put his hand on my
knee. “When I was little, she used to tuck me in at night and sing country
western songs to me! She never hugged or kissed me or even said prayers. She
just sang like a geek!”
“Okay.
I like geeks,” I said trying to subdue the irritation rising up in me. I guess Donny
wasn’t as shy as I thought. At the dance, he was more reserved.
His
face twisted a little. “After Dad left us, Mom got this really horrible
boyfriend. She said she liked him because he was so good looking. I thought
that was an imprudent reason to like someone.” He rubbed his eyes. “He got
cruel one day and threw her on the ground…”
“Okay!”
I looked at him with a blaze of hatred in my eyes. My stomach felt nauseous. I
thought I might just puke right on him. “I don’t want to know about it.”
“What’s
wrong?” he asked, putting his hand on my shoulder. “She dumped him. It’s not
like he hurt her that bad.”
“It’s
nothing,” I responded, shaking my head and moving away. I just couldn’t stop
thinking about Mom and her freak boyfriend drowning her in the bathtub. It felt
like a blanket was smothering me all of the sudden. “I gotta get some air.” I
stood up.
“Can
I come too?” he asked with concern in his voice.
“No.”
I looked at him directly in his puppy dog eyes. “I need some time alone.” With
that, I walked out of the room as calmly as I could and headed for the deck. I
wanted out of this life. Maybe if I died, I could join my mom.
The
hall that led outside was dimly lit and relatively quiet. With the back of my
hand, I wiped the tears out of my eyes and tried to pull myself together. I
could hear the muffled sounds of kids in other rooms laughing or talking.
Someone was playing a Duran Duran song: “Hungry like a Wolf.” Oh, brother.
But
then I heard something. The hardly audible sounds were coming from behind a
slightly open door. “That’s good,” the girl panted. “You’re a master…”
I
couldn’t help but look in. To my utter shock, it was blond, beautiful Emily
Monroe. Her prom queen crown was on its side on the floor next to her sequined pumps.
Her dress was hiked up and a guy with long dark hair had his hand in her
panties. He glanced down at his designer wristwatch. I couldn’t see his face,
but his body looked sexy as hell. I didn’t know who he was, but he seemed
familiar. His dress shirt was torn open.
Emily
looked like she was in so much pleasure as he did things I had never
experienced. I wondered what it felt like to be touched that way. The guys I
had been with were self-centered and awkward.
So
many feelings rushed through me. I could have sworn that guy reminded me of the
one from the ocean and my dreams. I remembered how good he had made me feel in
those nighttime fantasies. No other guy compared. Embarrassed and jealous, I
hurried back down the hall just as Emily cried out, “Marcel…” Her breath was
getting caught in her throat. “…you are the hottest guy alive.”
I
waited at the hall door for a minute trying to catch my breath. Marcel? Who was
Marcel? In a moment, I would walk back down the hall, past their room, and out
onto the deck like I hadn’t seen a thing.
But
before I could start walking, the guy stepped out of the room. I only glimpsed
the side of his face before his long hair whipped around and covered his
profile. He wore slacks with some sort of tuxedo shirt reminiscent of another
century. It was ripped in the front like Emily tried to pull it off him. From
the brief peek I had, it looked like he had a rockin’ chest. The way he
strutted revealed a confident demeanor.
Marcel
must have been one of the French exchange students. They dressed like that,
kind of crazy like rock stars with a touch of eighteenth century couture. This
was probably the one that was rarely at school. The bad boy who was in jail.
Marcel Paradis. That’s his name. Right.
He
looked back over his shoulder. But when he saw me, our blue eyes met. Heat rose
up from my groin into my chest.
“What’s
wrong with you?” he asked in a cocky voice. “Got a staring problem?”
“You’re
nothing much to look at,” I snapped and then bit down on my lower lip. What a
jerk.
“Damn!
Don’t do that with you lip,” he scoffed, glancing down through his black heavy
eyelashes at my mouth.
Then
it got strange. His head jerked up and his fingers curled before his chest. And
just like that he fainted on the floor. Totally passed out!
I
couldn’t believe it. What the hell?
But
before I could figure out what to do, his thick lashes flew open. For a moment his
insane blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, wide and intense. Then, he scrambled
to his feet. “Stay away from me,” he said, searching my eyes. His tan, olive
skin had paled and a purple vein in his neck lifted up underneath his skin.
My
face flamed. “My pleasure, asshole.” My knees felt weak like they were going to
buckle beneath me. I held my hand against the wall to steady myself.
He
just scoffed and rushed up the stairs, out the door, and onto the deck.
I
was a bit shocked and not thinking straight. How could I have missed this jerk
at school? It was probably because I had been absent so much with my mom’s
funeral arrangements, depression leave, and my general lost mindset. But now I
remembered who he was. He was Brigitte’s boyfriend! Boy did she have bad taste.
Oh,
man, I wouldn’t mess with her. Emily was a fool. Brigitte could kick her ass
and then some. French girls were tough like that. Something about her seemed
deadly kind of like those sexy assassin types in movies that have great
manners, but then sniper someone through a window from another building. She
just had that kind of air about her.
That
dude looked so much like the guy in the ocean. At that recognition, I rolled my
eyes. Of course, he wasn’t the guy I saw. Even if he didn’t drown, he couldn’t
climb up onto a yacht from the water below. He would need some kind of ladder
or help from the deck. But if it was the same guy somehow, this dude really got
around with the girls. And just my luck stumbling in on him twice. Serendipity?
Ha! My ass.
Marcel
Paradis was a prick and I wanted to tell him off good. I jogged to catch up
with him, but when I stepped outside into the night air, he was gone.
I
looked around. He was nowhere to be seen. He must have taken the back route
into the main room where everyone was hanging out and playing cards. It was a
good thing because I would have just made a fool of myself cursing him out.
A
lump grew in my throat. I felt so out of whack that I started pacing right
there on the deck. I was so sick of people. They were so mean. I didn’t do a
damn thing to Marcel Paradis and he treated me like trash. Life was hell. Was
he going to start calling me names and making fun of me at school now like Jake
Stevenson did? I just couldn’t take that. Not from him especially. Oh, what was
I thinking?
Only
recently, the doctor said I suffered from anxiety and clinical depression.
Whatever! I wasn’t going to take his stupid pills. My eyes kept drifting out to
the ocean.
That’s
when I noticed the sound of a woman’s voice coming from a radio in one of the
rooms below. She sounded like she was complaining about her man on some
psychology AM radio show. Thoughts of my mother rushed back into my mind.
Steve,
my mom’s alcoholic boyfriend, was choking her, holding her down in the bathtub.
Her face was pale. Her eyes bulging under the water. Her arms and legs flailing
to and fro. Desperate. Bubbles and bile coming out of her throat. The last
thoughts of how she ruined her life by choosing a scumbag. How she destroyed my
life.
“Stop,
stop!” I said to myself. If only my mind would still.
I
leaned way over the rail of the yacht and considered letting go. What was life?
There was no reason to it. It would be so easy to just let go. Fall into the
ocean and die.
I
swung my legs over so that I was hanging off the side of the yacht that glided
so swiftly over the wake. Wind rushed over my body. My hands still held fast to
the rail, but the bottoms of my shoes were only feet away from the black water.
It
was an exhilarating feeling. I was so close to the edge of death. My heart was
slamming against my chest.
If I let go I would surely die out at sea alone. Is
this what I wanted?
But, before I could make a decision, something
grabbed my leg.
All the best,
Brighton