Fated Dreams (Book One In The Affinity series) (25 page)

When I stood up
to go to my locker, Emma and Derrick just looked up and waved. I walked down
the hall with my head down, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone passing by.

“Why did you
break up with my brother?” I glanced up to see Logan standing in front of me.
His hazel eyes were cold as he stared into mine.

“I didn’t,” I
said, starting to walk away.

He grabbed my
arm. “Of course you did, you’re not together, are you?”

Okay, now he
was pissing me off. The scene was too familiar, and I really didn’t want to
think about the last time he cornered me in the hallway.

I shook his
hand off my arm. “Did he actually say I dumped him?”

He thought for
a second, running his hand through his hair, a move that he shared with his
twin. It was too familiar, so I looked over at a locker with the words “school
sucks” written on it. “No, but I assumed you did. He’s miserable. All he does
is punch the heavy bag. He’s down there for hours, and he won’t talk to us at
dinner. I saw him try to speak to you this morning, and you wouldn’t let him.”

I laughed
dryly, finally glancing at him. Logan’s hair was shorter than his brother’s,
and he lacked the cluster of freckles on his cheeks. If it wasn’t for those
subtle differences I wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye. “Why would
I want to be near him after he dumped me? Yeah, he tried to get me to talk to
him, but that’s just to ease his conscience for breaking my heart. Why should I
help him?” The tears that I thought had dried up escaped. I wiped them, hoping
he wouldn’t notice, but judging by the panicked look on his face, he did.

He glanced
around as if looking for help. When he found no one around, he awkwardly put
his arms around my shoulders to comfort me. I would have been surprised if I
wasn’t so upset.

“Get your hands
off of her, Logan. I told you that I’d kick your ass if you ever touched her
again.”

I pulled away
from Logan and stared coldly at Lucas. He was rushing toward us, his boots
clomping on the floor. His gaze was full of fury, and locked on his brother.

“Go to hell,
Lucas. He was comforting me, after he defended you! He thought I dumped you. He
got that wrong, didn’t he?” I scowled at him and walked away. I had so much
pain inside me, it was unbearable, and all it would take to make it go away was
for him to turn around, take me in his arms, and tell me that he loved me.

But no, instead
I heard Logan say behind me, “What the hell, dude?”

I turned the
corner, ran to the bathroom, and sobbed inside the stall.

Since I worked
after school, my parents were taking turns driving me. Mom dropped me off, and
my dad was picking me up.

I was on
concession when Zack came over. He was ripping tickets, but with most of the
movies in session, the theater was quiet.

“Hey, where
were you last week?”

“I was sick,” I
lied.

“Why didn’t
Lucas drop you off like he usually does?”

Mind your own
business. “He dumped me.”

His eyes
widened in surprise. “His loss, right?” he mumbled, obviously uncomfortable.
“You can do better anyway.”

“Zack, I
appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but I’d rather not talk about it.” I
stepped away from the counter to clean the popcorn machine. With the movies in
session, my only customers would be a few stragglers out of popcorn, wanting
more. When it was slow, we had to find things to do. I was okay with that
though; staying busy kept my mind off of hazel eyes with specks of gold,
freckles dotted on the tops of cheeks, shaggy brown hair. Ugh, okay, so it
didn’t work all the time, but it helped.

Zach watched me
work for a few minutes. When it was obvious that I wasn’t up for conversation,
he walked away, grabbing a broom on his way.

My dad came in
awhile later, walking towards me. I had about ten minutes left of my shift.
“Hey, how was work?” He placed his hands on the counter, tapping his fingers on
the top. He was wearing his green winter coat, undone, showing a ratty T-shirt.

“It was work,”
I said with a shrug. “Dad, you’re early.”

He was chewing
his fruit-flavored gum. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t go outside by
yourself.”

“I’ve learned
my lesson, believe me.”

“I’m still
upset with you for not telling me what was going on. I’m your father, Sarah, I
can’t protect you if I don’t know something’s wrong.” Where had my
easy-going-video-game-playing-father gone? Ever since I started dating Lucas,
the overprotective-worried-hovering-man before me had taken over, and I really
missed the old dad.

Ten minutes
later, I waved to Marcy, who had been working with me. She was scheduled to
close. I went to the breakroom to sign out. The room was empty and smelled of
tomato soup.

“Hey, Sarah,
I’m sorry about earlier, about bringing up Lucas. I didn’t know,” Zack said,
walking into the room and pulling his coat off a hook.

“It’s okay,
Zack, I’ll see you later.” I started out the door, yanking my jacket on, when I
heard his voice behind me.

“Why don’t you
let me take you out, to make it up to you? You never know, it might cheer you
up.”

Oh no, not
again. “I’m sorry, but I’m not up to it yet.” I rushed out of the room to meet
my father at the front doors before he could stop me.

Tuesday night was the recital. I had been
dreading it all week, since I had to play my original piece, a song I wrote
about Lucas. It was supposed to be about our emotions. When I wrote it, I was
happy; now, not so much. Tonight I would be playing a joyful tune about me and
my then boyfriend, and I would be absolutely miserable while doing it.

I stared at
myself in my bedroom mirror. I was wearing a halter-style black dress that fell
loosely to my knees. My hair was curled with some pulled back away from my
face. My eyes were shadowed with a smoky look, and my lips were covered in a
soft pink gloss. I had even broken out some blush to add some color to my face.
On my feet were high-heeled black strappy sandals. The person in the mirror
looked beautiful. But I felt like a vacant shell.

“Sarah, hurry
up, we’re going to be late,” my mother yelled from the hallway.

I knew she was
right, but for some reason, I couldn’t look away from the mirror; there was
something about my eyes that looked different to me.

“Sarah! Let’s
go.” Now it was my dad yelling.

As I walked
out, I glanced once more at my reflection, and realized what it was that
bothered me. My eyes looked empty.

The auditorium was packed. I sat on the
stage behind the curtain waiting my turn. We were to perform our pieces
individually, and then as a closing all of us would play Miss Fitzgerald’s
song.

“Hey, are you
nervous?” I heard Emma ask from behind me.

I turned in the
direction of her voice and saw her and Derrick coming up the steps.

“No, I just
want to get this over with so I can go home.” All I wanted to do was crawl in
bed and disappear.

They exchanged
a worried glance, but that wasn’t new, I was getting used to those looks. She
forced a smile. “Well, you look gorgeous. I have to borrow that dress someday.”

“Sure.” I
really wasn’t in the mood to make conversation.

“Well, I guess
we’ll go get our seats. Oh, by the way, I’m surprised that you invited Lucas, I
didn’t think you wanted him around.”

I panicked. A
feeling of excitement mixed with dread came over me. “What, Lucas is here?”

“Um…yeah,
didn’t you invite him?” She was shooting looks of confusion between me and
Derrick.

“Yes, but we
were still together. I figured since he broke my heart, he’d know that I didn’t
want him here. Crap.” There was no way I could go out there now. I couldn’t
face him. How was I supposed to play a song about him while he was here? Emma
patted me on the shoulder, and they both stepped off the stage to find a seat.

I suddenly felt
very warm and clammy. The voices around me became louder, almost deafening, and
I couldn’t catch my breath. I needed to leave, I couldn’t do this.

I ran for the
side door, pushing past Lila and her harp, and Marjorie the flute player. I
reached the emergency exit, about to push on the latch to make my escape.

“Sarah!” I
heard a voice yell from behind me. Damn, I was so close. “Where are you going?”
Miss Fitzgerald asked, walking quickly towards me, her heels clicking like the
sound of a drum beat. She was dressed up, wearing a shimmering silver dress and
oversized hoop earrings.

I turned to
face her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I have to leave right now.”

Her forehead
creased. “Sarah, you are very talented, of course you can do this, it’s just
nerves.” She took hold of my elbow and started to lead me back.

I stood my
ground. “I’m sorry but I can’t.” My voice was firm. I wasn’t about to back
down.

“What’s going
on? Sarah, you’ve been distant for over a week.” Her eyes were filled with
concern; no wonder she was my favorite teacher.

“Lucas broke up
with me. And I’ve been a wreck ever since. The song I wrote was about him, how
he made me feel happy and excited, but now I have to go out there and play it
when I’m miserable. And I thought I could do it, but Emma just told me that
he’s out there. I can’t…” I said softly, with my hand still on the door handle
ready to push it open.

Miss Fitzgerald
shook her head, her auburn curls bouncing against her shiny dress. “Men. They
flatter you to get what they want, and then they dump you.” She had a far-off
look in her eyes, and then she scowled. I had a feeling she wasn’t talking
about Lucas.

“No, he’s not
like that. He did it for a good reason, in his mind anyway.”

She took both
of my hands in hers, staring into my eyes, her face determined, her large
emerald ring digging into my fingers. “Sarah, listen, do you know how many
people perform when they’re miserable, or sad, or sick?” She didn’t let me
answer before she went on. “The way I see it is, you can take all the good
memories, blocking out the bad, and channel them into your music. Or you can
shake off what you’re feeling right now, go out there with your head held high,
give the best performance you possibly can, and show him what he’s lost.” Her
gaze was steady as she added, “And if any of that doesn’t work, fake it.”

It wasn’t the
best pep talk I’d ever heard, but it did the trick. I nodded. “Okay, I’ll do
it.”

She smiled
before giving me a big hug. She smelled like an odd mix of rain and sunshine.
“Good, it’s almost your turn. Go,” she said, with a gentle push.

Mark was just
finishing his piece on the clarinet. His emotion must be sadness; the low,
haunting notes of the song depressed me even more than I had been.

I stood at the
edge of the stage waiting for him to finish; I was next. Out of the three
suggestions Miss Fitzgerald gave me, the only one I could do was fake it. I’d
plant a smile on my face, not look into the crowd, play quickly, and get off
the stage. That was the plan anyway.

“Thank you,
Mark, that was lovely. Now our next performer on piano is Sarah Samson.” Miss
Fitzgerald spoke clearly to the crowd. She walked off the stage in the opposite
direction, her long skirt fluttering behind her.

I blocked out
the applause, visualizing that I was alone and the seats were empty. I stepped
out slowly, keeping my focus on the piano ahead of me.

Sitting down on
the bench, I put my hands on the keys.

A familiar pull
coming from the center of the room made me glance up quickly without thinking,
and I looked right into Lucas’ hazel eyes. He was sitting in the middle row,
focused only on me. Our eyes locked, and I began my song. Everything fell
away—the last week, the pain I felt, the constant loneliness that followed me
everywhere I went, whether I was in a crowd or alone in my room. All I thought
about was the music. I played, lost in my own world.

When I
finished, the crowd’s applause pulled me out, snapping me back to reality.
Before I stood up, I touched the piano keys, they were wet. I felt my hands, they
were damp as well. I realized I didn’t block everything out. As I played, tears
rolled down my cheeks, and I didn’t even feel them.

The last song
of the night was the group performance. The curtain was closed as everyone
gathered onto the stage, sitting down with our instruments. After the curtain
rose, Miss Fitzgerald announced us, and we began.

The song opened
with a piano solo, and then one by one the other instruments joined in. I had
to admit we sounded great. Miss Fitzgerald was beaming when the song ended.
Pride shone on her face as she stared at us.

The audience
roared with applause, and for a few minutes, I was actually happy, I didn’t
need to pretend. We stood and took our bows; I accidentally looked out at the
audience and saw Lucas. His face was full of pride as he smiled at me, and the
pain came back like a blow to the heart.

While everyone
was celebrating, I ducked out the side door to wait for my parents in the car.

“Sarah, what are you doing out here,
everyone was looking for you,” my mother said, climbing into the front
passenger side about twenty minutes later. My brother got in beside me, and my
dad climbed in behind the wheel, turned the key, and pulled out onto the road,
trying to beat the mob of cars.

“I didn’t feel
like celebrating.” I stared out the window without seeing the view before me.

“Sarah, you
have to pull out of this, make an effort,” she said, leaning over and rubbing
my knee.

I yanked my leg
away from her hand. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, I’ll leave
it alone for now.” She sighed heavily, and then beamed at me. “Oh honey, you
were great up there, we were so proud.”

“Thank you.” I
managed a slight smile.

When we arrived home, I went right up to my
room to change into my standard pj’s, pink tank, and black yoga pants. I was
too restless to sleep, so I sat down in front of the computer and checked my
email. It was a mistake; there was one from Lucas. I read all the junk mail and
jokes sent from Emma, then reluctantly opened his. It read:
Sarah, I
tried to catch you after the recital, but you were gone. I would call, except I
know you wouldn’t answer. So hopefully, you’ll read this message. I just wanted
to say how beautifully brilliant you were tonight, I was proud to know you. Lucas
.

Okay, maybe I will
go to bed, I thought as I turned off my computer and fell under the covers,
tugging them up over my head. I knew he was just trying to be nice, but his
words were so sweet they ripped through me like the knife he was trying to
protect me from.