Amber Frost (5 page)

I jumped as the bell rang, its shrill clamor intruding on my quiet thoughts. I couldn’t believe how quickly the time had passed. Both our sketchbooks lay open and blank on our desks, a pile of pencils all with broken leads beside mine. I’d spent the past hour talking to Sebastian. It had felt like bare minutes though, like it wasn’t nearly enough time. I firmly pushed the thought away. It was too much time and I knew it. And now, it was over.

“Go,” he said, as if he had read my thoughts. “We can talk again soon.”

“We can… but we won’t,” I replied, trying to make my voice sound firm and cold. All I could manage was a slightly detached tone. Either way, it didn’t affect him in the slightest.

“We will. I’m sorry, I can’t help it… I know it’s not for the best but we will,” he murmured apologetically. I stared at him in confusion. His ominous tone had raised goose bumps on my arms. Without saying another word, I grabbed my things and left, hurrying away from the art room, away from Sebastian and his strange words and absurd ideas – ideas that no matter how hard I pretended, had hit quite close to home.

I avoided Sebastian Caldwood for the rest of the week. It was strange though, he seemed to pop up everywhere I went. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed him for three months when now I seemed to see him everywhere. Our paths crossed all over the school campus. We bumped into each other in the hallways, we were assigned to work in the same group in English, we even ended up having lockers just a few feet apart. There were so many coincidences it didn’t seem possible. But somehow it was.

Not only could I not physically escape Sebastian’s presence but each day he seemed to preoccupy an increasingly larger portion of my thoughts. There was some intangible quality to him that drew me in. It was like I’d told him that day in the art room, I felt like I had to know him, like I was meant to and besides that, I
wanted
to know him and that frightened me most of all. I started to dream about dying again but now my strange dreams were also haunted by his dark eyes and the twisted, black design of his tattoo. I couldn’t escape him – even in sleep.

Sebastian never approached me. He never even spoke directly to me; he just watched from a distance and waited. His eyes held a patience in them as he stared at me across the crowded dining hall or through the silent focus of the art room. I thought I had become used to being stared at but with Sebastian it was different. His gaze made me feel vulnerable and exposed, like he saw through all my pretenses, right down to my soul. There was an expectation in his eyes and I knew I wasn’t meeting it. Consequently, I felt ashamed.

I tried my best to ignore him. I reminded myself daily that he was a nobody, he was a strange, weird boy, he was to be avoided, pitied, abhorred. I tried to devote myself to my frivolous life. I tried even harder to please everyone; I batted my eyelashes and flirted shamelessly with Clarke, I gossiped maliciously and enthusiastically with Tanya, Cadence and Rebecca, I scheduled my own tanning and hair appointments and further reduced my already low-calorie diet, I absolutely doted on my father the brief moments he was at home and never, ever complained about all the time I was left alone, in an empty, still unfamiliar house. It was never enough. Though my behavior pleased my parents, my boyfriend, my friends –
I
was never happy. Sebastian had exposed a truth in me that I’d been desperately trying to ignore. And now that it was out in the open, it was like a festering sore, painful and grotesque, shameful even, and suddenly, I could no longer pretend.

I had made my decision.

“Where are you going, babe?” Clarke asked as I veered off the graveled pathway we’d been walking on across campus and stepped out from under the umbrella he carried. I stared at him in confusion as raindrops began sliding down my face. It took me a minute to remember what day it was, to figure out what he meant. We usually went to the library this period and worked on our homework together, or rather, Clarke copied while I did all our work. Today, I was certainly not in the mood. I felt like I was falling apart at the seams.

“I’m going to the art room. I have to finish my painting, it’s due tomorrow.” The lies came to me easily; after all, I’d had enough practice lying to myself.

“Oh. But what about my homework?” Clarke pouted. The fact that he didn’t even pretend that he did some of his own work bothered me. It solidified my decision.

“You’re a smart boy. I’m sure you can manage on your own.” The idiot actually smiled at me as if I’d complimented him. Picking up on sarcasm was not one of Clarke’s strong points; like most people, he heard what he wanted to. “Goodbye, Clarke,” I called over my shoulder. I pulled up the hood on my jacket and dashed away without looking back. I didn’t really care if he was upset with me or not and the realization was thrilling, liberating. I practically skipped the rest of the way to the art building, deciding to avoid the inside of the school and take the longer route through the steadily falling rain.

When I entered the art room, Sebastian was already there, waiting. There was only one empty chair beside him today, leaving me no choice but to sit right by his side. He had been staring out the window, seemingly unaware of my presence but I noticed he smiled when I sat down. As I watched him, I was struck by the sudden realization that he was really quite handsome in his own, unique way. His dark eyes were still turned away, so I allowed myself a moment to study the smooth contours of his face, noting his beautifully shaped, color-shifting eyes, his long dark lashes, his short, messy, almost bluish-black hair. My heart fluttered nervously as he turned towards me, his dark gray eyes boring into mine, a small smile on his perfect lips.

“I’m impressed you were able to resist me for so long,” he joked. His gently lilting voice interrupted my thoughts, refocused my attention. He smiled teasingly. I gave him a stern frown, or at least I tried to – it was difficult when he was smiling at me like that.

“Don’t think that this means anything. I’m only sitting with you today, just to talk for a bit, just as friends,” I warned as I took off my soaked jacket and damp school blazer and hung them both over the back of my chair. He rolled his eyes at me and grinned.

“Obviously.”

I shrugged, starting to feel uncomfortable under his intense stare.

“You look tired,” he commented, his voice touched with concern.

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately – bad dreams,” I dismissed, only briefly meeting his eye as I spoke. Strangely, he seemed disturbed by this pronouncement.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to have bad dreams,” he said gently. I shrugged without answering, feeling uncertain still. “So what do you want to talk about?” he suddenly asked. Anything – everything, I answered silently. Instead I spoke the first question that popped into my mind.

“Have you been following me around at school lately? It seems like every time I turn around – you’re there.”

“Does it seem that way to you?” He looked amused. “No, I haven’t been following you around any more than I usually do.” I arched an eyebrow at him but decided to let it go. If I questioned every strange thing he said we’d be sitting there all day and I had more important matters I wanted to discuss with him.

“How do you know me, Sebastian?” I asked. I studied his face carefully, watching his reaction. It wasn’t what I expected. He suddenly became serious, his eyes appeared to darken.

“You’re Gracelynn Stevenson, the prettiest, most popular girl in school. Everyone knows you,” he answered quickly. Though I knew he was teasing, it sounded false, rehearsed.

“As you yourself pointed out, no one really knows me. I barely even know myself, yet you somehow seem to know me so well. Why is that?” He considered carefully this time, his expression guarded as he debated something.

“From the first time I saw you, I recognized you. I saw a sadness in you, an emptiness that was impossibly familiar to me. I was drawn to you. I think I knew you needed me, needed my help – perhaps almost as much as I need yours.” Now he was watching me, gauging my reaction to his words.

I ran my hand through my rain-dampened hair, twisting it back and out of my face while I gathered my own thoughts. “Okay. So, what do you think it is that you’re going to help me with?” I eventually asked.

“I’m going to show you the truths that you are currently blind to. I’m going to help you see reality. I’m going to help you find happiness.” He spoke solemnly, his eyes ancient again.

“And how will I help you?”

“I’m not sure but I think…” he paused, frowning in concentration. He twiddled one of his dark earrings as he considered. “I think you’re going to help me remember who I am.”

“I’m not sure what you expect from me but –”

“No,” he cut me off. “I have no expectations; I left them behind me a long time ago. Whatever will happen, will happen so let’s not worry any further than now.” I stared at him a moment longer, trying to follow what he’d just said.

“You know, you’re the strangest boy I’ve ever met. Are you sure you’re not from a different planet?” I teased.

“I’m fairly certain I’d remember that.” He sounded serious but I laughed as if he’d made a joke. Why did he have to be so strange? I asked myself with a tone of regret to my thoughts. But would I still be talking to him now if he weren’t? I wondered.

“So how are you going to help me be happy?”

“Simple, I’m doing it already. Aren’t you happy right now?”

“I’m not unhappy,” I conceded. “But you’re not
doing
anything. We’re just talking.”

“Exactly. We’re talking and we’re becoming friends. Though I’m still not certain we should, I think we’re going to have to be friends, at least for a little while, in order for me to help you.” He sounded oddly regretful.

“And you’re going to help me by…?” I reminded him.

“By being your friend, by wanting you to be happy,” he stated, simply.

“It’s really not that easy. I think,
maybe
, I would like to be friends but… I can’t.”

“I’m sorry but it’s already happened,” he apologized. “Now don’t complicate things unnecessarily; live in the now and don’t worry about the rest.”

I shook my head, my hair brushing my cheeks with the motion. He was wrong, life was complicated – it was unavoidable. I glanced out the window to see the rain had stopped and the sky was now clearing, a rainbow forming on the distant horizon. The sky was optimistic at least, it lent me some hope for myself, distracting me and halting the objections on my lips.

“Do you have plans for tonight?” His smooth, musical voice interrupted my daydreams.

“Yes, I’m attending the ‘Gala for the Children’ with my parents. It’s to raise money for the children’s wing of the hospital – my mother is one of the Gala’s main organizers,” I explained.

“Yes, I know. The Jensons’ are attending also.”

“Your foster parents?”

“I suppose you could call them that, though I’ve more or less adopted
them
.” His eyes twinkled mysteriously. Once again, I felt like there was a joke I wasn’t getting. “I’ll see you there tonight then,” he continued. My jaw dropped in surprise.

“You’ll be there?”

“Sure, why not?”

“It’s black tie.”

“Should that be a problem?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“It just doesn’t really seem like something you’d enjoy,” I floundered.

“I could say the same for you,” he pointed out. It was true enough.

“Clarke and his family will be there,” I warned him.

“The more the merrier. The Gala is to help the children, after all.”

I sighed, giving in. “This is going to be weird,” I stated. He opened his mouth but I spoke before he could. “I know, I know – you like weird but
I’m
still getting used to it.” He laughed, seeming pleased by my answer. I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“See you tonight, Gracelynn,” he said softly as he stood up to leave.

“Where are you going?” I asked in surprise.

“The bell’s about to ring and since it’s the end of the day, I was considering going home,” he answered. He smirked at me suddenly. “And you think
I’m
weird.”

“How do I lose such total track of time when you’re around?” I wondered out loud.

“Don’t worry about it too much. I don’t,” he answered with another playful grin. “See you tonight,” he repeated. He reached out to quickly squeeze my hand in a comfortable, familiar gesture. His touch sent a warm glow through me as his hand enfolded mine. His shirt sleeve had slid up as he reached out, revealing the bottom of his snaking, black tattoo curling around his wrist and twisting into his palm. Today I felt no need to avoid looking at it. The pattern that haunted my thoughts and dreams was now so familiar, it was almost comforting.

“I’ll see you there. I’m looking forward to it,” I replied politely. The response had been automatic, but the emotion behind it was genuine. I was caught off guard again to realize I had actually meant what I’d said. Sebastian laughed, perhaps having seen the surprise on my face as I spoke. He then quickly turned and strode from the room, a skip to his step that seemed happy and youthful, so different than the arrogant way Clarke strode about the school.