Fiona Frost: Order of the Black Moon (8 page)

With no appetite for dinner,
I slipped into my pajamas and just as I threw myself onto my bed, my phone rang
.
Fighting an emotional breakdown,
I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody, but I answered
without checking the caller.

“Hello?”

“
Hey, th
is is Wolfe.
Is everything
alright
?
I was really worried about you.”

Even the sound of
his
voice couldn’t draw me out of the funk I was in
this time.

“Hi Wolfe.
I
’m
fine, no worries
,” I lied. “
Thanks for calling
.
”

W
ithout
another thought,
I
ended the call
without saying
goodbye
and immediately burst into tears. T
he emotional rollercoaster
of the day
took
hold
of my senses as I crawled into
my covers
,
and
curled into a ball
as
a new sob burst from my chest, eventually putting me to sleep
.

I slept sound
ly
without tossing or
waking up in the middle of the night.
It was probably the
soundest
sleep I had ever had in my life.
My alarm
shrieked and
I jumped out of bed
. I scampered about
to get ready for school.

As I brushed
my teeth, I was surprised to see my ivory skin looked bright, my eyes
were
vivid.
I supposed the good night’s sleep was favorable to my appearance.
To change things up a bit,
I put my contacts
in, put a few random braids
in
my long, straight
hair
,
and fastened them with colorful metallic
rubber bands
.
I wore
one of my
favorite shirt
s
, a thin red
-
and
-
white
-
checkered
flannel
that looked like a
picnic
tablecloth.
Not only was it comfortab
le, it was a conversation piece and different
from the all-black wardrobe I typically wore to school. I wasn’t a Goth, but I
tried to
blend into the crowds of the hallway. If the popular girls couldn’t see me, they wouldn’t shout mean things
about me
—or so I thought.

I tried to void my
self
of negativity
,
conjuring
po
sitive thoughts in the forefront of my mind regarding Luminal, Janice, and my family.
I promised myself I would create a better day
as I ambled down the hallway and into our Tuscan-inspired kitchen
.
I
gobbled down
a bowl of cereal and drank some milk out of the carton
.
Why not?
Janice wasn’t there
hovering over my shoulder.

My mother hobbled into the kitchen to kiss me goodbye
, giving
me strict instructions on what to look for as far as Gerald Smith was concerned.
As she lectured about the obvious, I stared at every crack and fissure in the
e
arthy rock wall, thinking about how st
range it was for
Janice not to be standing there making bacon, eggs, and chocolate-chipped pancakes.

“Mom, how’s Janice today?”

She countered with a solemn stare.

“I just
checked on her
,
she’s not improving.
Getting worse.
G
oing to have her checked out today.
K
eep her in your
prayers.
I know you are going through a lot.
I wished I could say everything will be fine, but
it burns my heart that
I
can’t right now.
”

“Mom, don’t worry.
I’m keeping my head up, hoping for the best
.
Things always have a way of working out
.
I’m sure Janice will be
okay.
I heard strep
’s
going around the school, so it might be pretty widespread in town
—she runs errands every day.”

She
reminded me I was to stay with my assigned black suit. He was to drive me, but
I loved my
car
and
t
he freedom driving gave me
—
even if I
would have
a
federal
Town Car tracing my every step.
With
strong
opposition, I grabbed my car keys from the countertop and kissed
her
on the forehead.
I won.

My parking spot was in
f
ront of the house, on the street in front of the
circle
driveway.
I didn’t like being blocked in by
houseguests
and my parents and Janice took up our three-car garage in the back alleyway with the black Lincoln Town Car fleet
—
license plates
Frost 1, Frost 2
and
Frost 3.
I was so thankful my father didn’t make me drive a Town Car with a plate of
Frost 4
. I know it was discussed as a possibility, however.

As I broke the barrier of my house, I laid eyes upon th
e agent assigned to me
, w
aiting in the driveway.
As soon as my feet hit the porch
, he stepped out of his car to greet me.

“Hello, you must be Fiona.
My name is A
gent Bronson,” he said, extending
a manicured hand in my direction.

He
was undoubtedly the most handsome federal agent I had ever seen
, and
I had
met
quite a few
during
my last murder case
.
His
chiseled face b
elonged on a
magazine cover
with
dark hair
like
shiny
satin
and
almond-shaped
eyes the color of milk chocolate.
M
id-twenties
, he wore the same
black
suit
like
the rest
.
I
had speculated their
suits were government-issued.
I suddenly didn’t feel too badly about
being
followed
, but
I still wasn’t willing to give up my freedom
and hop in his car
.
Shaking his
hand,
I smiled.
He nodded
, arching a
n
eyebrow.

“Well, I’m
driving that
,” I
said, pointing
to my
car
, “and I
’m going to the high school—
only a
few
blocks from here.”

“Are you sure you don’t
want to ride with me?
”
he
implored with a
mellifluous
voice
as
he smiled, exposing
brilliantly white
teeth
.
“If we’re going to the same place, it’s silly to take two cars
, and you know I’m assigned to protect you
.”

“I’m fine.
I have all of my stuff in my
car;
I’d be naked without it
,” I said playfully,
s
kipping
towards
my car
. “What could happen within a couple of blocks?
I won’t lose ya
!”

“Not a chance,” he brightened
as he swiftly
climbed into the driver’s seat, his engine already running.

In a matter of minutes, we were at
the high school,
and he pulled his
car
perpendicular to
mine
,
stepp
ing
out of the drivers’ side.

“Fiona, I’ll be right here.
Here’s my card.
If you need anything
,
call me.”

My early morning classes
had
breezed by
, and I found myself strolling
into Mrs. G
arcia’s class
room.
Anticipating my
morning dose of
Wolfe
, I picked
up the pace to my seat
, scurrying
down the aisle
. He wore a
colorful beanie
looking like it was
inspired by
Fruit Strip
e gum
, t
he edge of the
hat
land
ing
right above his eyes,
his hair flipp
ing
up over the rim.

He
slipped me a
folded
note after saying an unusually
formal
hello.
He seemed somber
; I was re
luc
tant to read the contents.
If
something
terrible
had happened,
my frail emotions would shatter,
given what
I was dealing with in
my life
.
Odd
for him to write me a note,
as most
people
our age sent text messages
.
Fearing the humiliation I’d endure if Mrs. Garcia
confiscated the letter
, I
slipped it into my backpack to read later.

Wolfe
never looked
in my direction
during class
, which I found to be
bizarre
.
H
e
usually
waited in the hall
for me after class
,
but
after
the bell rang
,
he
rush
ed out of the classroom and sprinted down the hallway
.
Was he angry with me? What had I done? No way, this had to be something else.

Maddie was anxiously waiting
for me at our
usual
table
in the cafeteria
.
She
was the only club member
with
the same lunch period, but since she was my best friend, I
loved it
.
She already had my tray of pizza
and French fries waiting
for me
—
the only entrée w
e found edible.

“Haley off to New Zealand
?
”
she
inquired with resignation as she
gathered
her long
black hair
into a
messy
bun on top of her head.

“
Thank gosh
, Maddie.
A weight has been lifted.
I mean, with all this crap going on, things have got t
o start going my way, you know,” I said c
urtly, throwing my
backpack on the floor
and sitting down on a
green metal stool
.

“What’s with the braids in your
hair?
Seems random.
And the contacts?
No glasses?
And I see you
’re
wearing your picnic shirt,”
she
interrogated.

She read me like a book.

“Oh, just reacting to the stress of it all
, I suppose.
This is my way of aesthetically rebelling against stress,” I giggled softly, grabbing a French fry from my tray.