Finding Abigail (46 page)

 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.”

I stared at
her, my mind blank. I had no idea who it could be. “The president?”

She chuckled,
waving her sandwich at me. “No, dummy. Stephanie.”

Just the sound
of her name gave me the chills. “Lucky you.” I grinned, thinking about the last
time I saw her at the beach. My brown hair was still short after my unwanted
cut, but styled in a cute spiky bob. My friends and I were enjoying a day of
sun. Her mouth popped open in shock when she noticed me. Derrick, who knew
about what had happened, draped his arm around me and whispered in my ear as
though we were a couple. Of course we weren’t—he was my best friend—but she
didn’t have to know that. A few of his buddies were also there, dressed only in
swimsuits, showing off their tanned muscular bodies.

To her, it
looked like I was surrounded by three hunky guys all vying for my attention. So
I wasn’t surprised that she stared at me coldly, shooting daggers in my
direction. I just smiled and waved at her, making her so angry, she stomped off
the beach with her puppets following her.

“Who’s
Stephanie?” Derrick asked, but before I answered, his eyes widened. “Isn’t she
that witch who cut your hair?”

Since he caught
me with my mouth full, I just nodded.

“You really
need to get back at her.” He shook his head, staring down at his soda can.

I swallowed.
“Why, she’s a spoiled rich snob. I don’t care what she thinks.” I took a sip of
my drink. “Besides, wouldn’t that be stooping to her level?”

“Who cares, she
deserves it,” he shot back at me. Emma and I exchanged glances as he creased
his brows in thought. “You know what you should do?”

I chuckled,
never having seen this side of him before. “What?” I asked.

“Dye her hair
green or her skin blue. Hell, a little hair removal in her shampoo bottle would
do her some good.”

Who knew he
could be so vindictive, and utterly girlish? All that was missing from his
suggestions was hair pulling. I raised an eyebrow instead of answering. He
shrugged. “So I watch too many cheesy chick flicks, it’s your fault.”

Emma laughed at
him then turned to me. “So Sarah, what are you going to do about Lucas’ book?”

Derrick glanced
at her and answered for me. “What’s the big deal, just go up and tell him that
you have it. He’s sitting right over there.” He gestured with his hand. I
looked over to where he pointed. Lucas was sitting with Andy and Kyle two
tables away. I hoped he hadn’t heard us talking about him.

Emma was
glaring at Derrick like he’d lost his mind. “She can’t just go over there, he
won’t talk to her.”

“What’s the big
deal?” he asked again, shrugging his shoulders.

“You are such a
guy.” She tossed the crust from her bread down on the table. Emma was the only
seventeen-year-old I knew who still didn’t eat the crust on her sandwich.

I decided to
interrupt them. “Oh my God, it’s not a big deal, I’m going.” They could bicker
back and forth for hours if I let them. I just wished they’d finally kiss and
get it over with.

I stood up and
headed over to where Lucas and his friends were sitting. I could feel Emma and
Derrick’s gazes on my back.

As I approached
their table, Kyle and Andy smiled and nodded to me. Andy asked if I was
finished with my homework for our chemistry class, and I said yes. While we
were talking, Lucas never looked up from the paperback he was reading. “Lucas?”
I couldn’t keep the slight tremble out of my voice. Nothing; he still didn’t
look up. “Lucas!” I said a little louder.

Andy and Kyle
just shrugged. “Dude!” Andy smacked Lucas’ shoulder.

He finally
glanced up at me, his glasses falling forward a bit. He pushed them back then
glared at me with his deep hazel eyes. He was quite good-looking when you were
close enough to notice. He was tanned, and his long brown hair suited him,
giving him a rugged look. He had a strong jaw, and a sprinkle of freckles along
the bridge of his nose.

“What?” he
said, interrupting my thoughts.

I was a little
flustered at his annoyed expression. “Um…I don’t know if you know me? My name
is Sarah”

“I know who you
are,” he interrupted.

“Well, you
dropped your book when I bumped into you this morning. I didn’t bring it with
me, but if you want to meet me at my locker, I can give it to you.”

He looked at me
like I was speaking a different language. “Why don’t you just bring it with you
to history next period, and give it to me there.”

I was shocked.
“You’re in my history class?”