Fated Dreams (Book One In The Affinity series) (2 page)

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?

“Oh my God,
Sarah. I forgot to tell you.” Her green eyes were alight with excitement.
“Guess who I saw this weekend when I was shopping in Langton with my mom.”