Authors: M. Leighton
A horn sounding from the driveway startled me into action. I rushed to the bathroom, pulled the brush through my hair several times, flipped the pale locks to one side and headed for the door.
As I reached for the doorknob, I met my own sparkling green eyes in the mirror. For just a moment, I wondered what was becoming of the girl I’d seen there last week. Every day it seemed there was less and less of her staring back at me.
“Carson!”
“Coming,” I shouted back to Dad.
With one final look, I turned the knob and walked out to meet Leah.
********
“I like the pink one,” Dina said, watching as Leah turned for the fifth time in front of the mirror. She’d tried on the same sweater in four different colors. She was modeling the red one for the second time.
“But pink makes me look so…” Leah said, struggling for the right word.
“So what? I like it,” she reiterated. “I think the red is just too…”
“Too what?” Leah turned from the mirror, fists on her hips.
“Sexy,” Dina admitted.
“But I
want
to look sexy, Mom.”
“Leah, this is your first date and I don’t think—”
“Exactly! It’s my
first date
, Mom, but that doesn’t mean that it has to
look
like my first date,” she argued.
Feeling uncomfortable just sitting there listening to mother and daughter argue, I walked to a rack of sweaters nearby and casually flipped through the hangers, trying to tune out the conversation that was taking place several feet to my left at the dressing rooms.
A sweater caught my eye so I pulled it off the rack. I held it up to my chest, picturing in my head what it would look like on.
“Carson, you should totally try that on,” Leah called from the area just outside the fitting rooms.
“No. I’d better not.”
“But why not? That’s what makes a shopping trip so much fun.”
“I really couldn’t—“
“Oh, come on, Carson.”
“I shouldn’t—“
“Please, Carson. Pretty please, for me,” Leah cajoled.
“Come on and try it on, Carson. I bet it would look fantastic on you,” Dina chimed in.
Leah marched over to me, grabbed the sweater from my fingers, took my wrist in one hand and pulled me over to the fitting room she’d just left.
“You’re trying it on. Period,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.
At that point I figured I had little choice, so I gave in as graciously as I could. “Fine,” I said with a sigh.
Leah shooed me into the changing room and closed the door snugly behind her, calling through its louvered front, “Come out when you get it on.”
Quickly, I doffed my sweater and pulled the new garment over my head. I tugged at the hem until it fell neatly to my hips then I turned to survey my reflection.
The sweater was cashmere and deep apricot in color. It was fitted, hugging my curves as if it was made to fit them. It flared out at the sleeves and hem into a gentle near-ruffle that made it very girlie and very sexy. The warm color accentuated my creamy skin and the silky material shifted softly against my body as I moved. I loved it instantly.
I looked down at the price tag dangling from under the arm. The price didn’t matter since there was absolutely zero chance I would ever own such an item, but I still couldn’t help but gasp when I saw the triple digits.
“Yow!”
“Does it fit?” Leah was still standing right in front of my door. She must’ve heard me and thought I was referring to the sweater.
“I guess,” I said, trying to sound ambivalent about the most amazing sweater in the world.
“Come out then. Let me see,” she said, her voice fading as she walked away.
I opened the door and made my way to where Leah had been twirling in front of the bank of mirrors. I stood before them, seeing the perfect fit of Carson and cashmere from a variety of different angles. Leah and Mrs. Kirby made all sorts of comments and noises of approval. I couldn’t help but smile at their flattery. I also couldn’t help but agree with them; that sweater was made for me.
I was enjoying my modeling moment, laughing and twirling with exaggerated movements, when I spun back toward the mirror and saw a man standing several feet behind me. I looked at his reflection, the air hitching in my throat. My eyes met his in the glass. Instantly, I recognized the cool silver staring back at me, like mercury orbs set in a dark face.
It was the man from my dream, the stranger in the snow. His hair was even tied back, just as I’d imagined it would be. A chill skittered down my spine. It was laced with a little awe, a little fear and a little fascination. My heart fluttered in my chest as his eyes bored into mine. After a few seconds, he turned and walked away.
I watched the back of his dark head as he weaved through the racks. I was overcome with the most bizarre pulling sensation, like a magnet dragging at my insides, urging me to follow him.
When I could no longer see him, the breath I hadn’t even been aware of holding came rushing out. I whirled around, the air cool as it dried the sweat that had broken out on my brow.
“What’s the matter, Carson? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did you get a glimpse of the price tag?” Leah quipped.
Every fiber of my being was still sharply focused on him. I struggled to bring my attention back to Leah. “Wh-what?” I asked, turning back to the mirror and finding Leah’s face in it. I watched her smile slowly faded. She wasn’t joking anymore. “What?” I repeated.
“Seriously, are you ok? You don’t look so good.”
Leah’s face was full of concern. I knew she wondered what was going on with me and why I was keeping it from her. For a split second I considered telling her. Everything. All of it. Just spilling my guts. After all, I trusted her. I knew I could tell her virtually anything in confidence and she’d keep my secrets. But, alas, I wouldn’t.
I sighed. Not an audible sigh, but a soul deep one, the kind you
feel
more than you hear. I wouldn’t tell Leah because I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t burden her like that. Plus, she couldn’t help me even if I did tell her. There’s nothing she or anyone else could do for me. And that included Dad.
Intuitively, I knew that whatever was happening to me, whatever this life-changing metamorphosis was, it was something I had to deal with on my own. It was between me and me, the old and the new, the known and the unknown.
Resolute, I pushed my troubled emotions aside, pulled my lips up into my biggest smile and did what I was learning to do best: pretend.
“You’re just jealous because I found this sweater first,” I teased.
Leah’s eyes drilled into mine for several long, tense seconds. I could almost see the indecision warring behind her chocolate eyes, but, in the end, her easy-going, unobtrusive nature won out and she smiled. Her decision was made. She was going to go along with my pretense.
“Yeah right. My sweater kicks the crap out of yours.”
And so the charade began, each of us bowing to the terms of our silent agreement to keep things light, no questions asked.
We continued in that manner for the rest of the evening, a simulation of lightheartedness that I found utterly exhausting. By the time they dropped me back at my house, I was ready for bed.
Sleep was elusive, though. Each time I’d doze off, the same dream would come, only I’d awaken as soon as I saw the stranger lying in the snow. I’d open my eyes to the dark ceiling of my room, heart flying, breathing shallow, palms sweating. I thought of my science fair project, but knew that I lacked the concentration to be able to make any progress. So I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, reliving those brief moments at the mall, wondering who the stranger was and why I’d felt so drawn to him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thursday came and went in a blur. Before I knew it, I was eating lunch in the cafeteria on Friday and Stephen was coming my way.
“Still on for tonight?”
At first his question puzzled me. Then it startled me. It’s not that I had forgotten about our date per se; time had just crept up on me. I was looking inward and it was marching on.
“Sure,” I said, suddenly worried about Dad’s reaction when I told him.
“Seven o’clock,” he said with a wink as he turned to walk away.
My mind raced for a way to avoid the confrontation with my dad that I knew dropping such a bomb would incite. Then it hit me.
“Stephen,” I called. He turned to look back at me. “Could you pick me up at Leah’s? We’re uh- uh, we’re going to get ready together.”
Lying didn’t come naturally to me. Mostly, I was glad about that. I hated doing it. But it seemed that lately I was encountering more and more occasions where lying was becoming almost necessary. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.
Stephen shrugged. “Alright. Where does she live?”
I explained that she lived seven houses up from me and he agreed to pick me up there instead. I felt a little better, having averted a disastrous run-in with dad, but the lie I was going to have to tell him was already giving me indigestion. I pushed my tray aside and started planning out the details.
Later, when the sixth period bell rang, I ran out the door in hopes of catching Leah. Ryan had driven her home again yesterday and I could only assume that this would be the new norm. I knew I had to get to her before they left the lot.
But I was too late. They were already gone. My only other option was to stop by her house on my way home. Hopefully they’d beat me there.
And they did. Leah was still sitting in the car with Ryan when I reached her mailbox. I waved to get her attention and, when she waved back, I made my way up her driveway.
She must’ve said her goodbyes because Leah got out and shut the door. Ryan was backing out just as I reached her.
Leah’s cheeks were flushed with color and her smile was so big I bet her face hurt. She radiated sheer bliss.
“He didn’t have to leave. I just needed to ask you something real quick,” I said.
“It wasn’t you. He had to go. He was actually supposed to go straight home from school, but he wanted to take me home first.” I could see that she was positively thrilled over the fact.
“Good. Hey, I’ve got a favor,” I began. I could tell that, mentally, Leah was still with Ryan in the car, but I figured that was about as much of her attention as I was likely to get. “Can Stephen pick me up here tonight?”
I saw her focus return to the here and now then her eyes widen with excitement. “Yes! We could get ready together,” she said eagerly. Then, with a dramatic gasp, she said, “Why don’t you just spend the night? We can stay up all night talking about the party.”
That sounded like such a normal girl-thing to do, I immediately consented. “But what if we leave at different times?”
“Whoever leaves the party first should find the other before she goes. How about that? Then we could both leave at the same time.”
Sounded simple enough. “Alright.”