Lost in Starlight (Starlight Saga) (14 page)

Mondays suck, and what makes today suck even more is that Hayden isn’t at school. And to top it off, I catch glimpses of Zach between classes, giving me the stink eye, and wrinkling his nose like he can’t stand the sight of me.

Sheesh. Am I wearing some type of smelly alien repellent?

I don’t bother asking him where Hayden is or why he’s not returning my calls or text messages. Because every time Zach looks at me, I can tell he wants to tear me limb from limb. Not in a big hurry sort of way, either, but in a slow process of meticulous dismemberment. He wouldn’t tell me where Hayden is, anyway. I assume Alien Boy’s still recovering from his wounds.

All day, the whispering and comments surrounding me seem very obvious. Emma and Kaitlyn sneak weird looks at me all during class, like they’re dying to ask me something, but can’t get up the nerve. Someone must’ve seen Hayden and me having dinner together and now the gossip is on high alert. But not a word of Hayden’s accident. Lucky for him, whoever saw us eating didn’t catch the after dinner show.

Usually, Hayden stands out in a crowd—tall and lean, with his shaggy fauxhawk, and the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen, but on Tuesday, there’s still no sign of him.

By Wednesday, I anxiously wait in the parking lot for Hayden’s Range Rover to claim its usual spot. When the warning bell rings—a nasally buzzing jangle—and he doesn’t show up, my heart sinks lower in my chest. I’m ready to fill out a missing person’s report, either that, or stomp over to his uncle’s house and make Hayden talk to me.

The last couple of days feel like a horrible B movie that’s been edited and reduced to a mind-numbing documentary. My morning passes in a blur with me being all pouty and grumpy. I try to pay attention in class, but my mind is on Hayden.

When the lunch bell chimes, I trudge to the cafeteria to sit with my friends. Long lines of hungry students hold trays while waiting to get their grub. Scrawny girls that look like scarecrows line up at the salad bar. And I
so
want to stuff their faces with something hearty, like meatloaf to fill out those gaunt cheeks. The floors are dull gray linoleum, the walls a boring beige, and the lame posters advertising the upcoming Spring Formal are mockingly plastered everywhere. It’s noisy and crowded and I just want to go home, and bury my face in a gallon of Rocky Road with crushed Oreos.

Comfort food will have to wait until after school. Sigh.

“Whatcha been up to lately, Sloane?” Tanisha asks.

“Not much.”

Raymond picks off the pickles from his hamburger. “You’ve been hanging out with Lancaster a lot lately. What’s that about?”

I shrug. “I was interviewing him for the school paper. He’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him.”

“That’s cool, I guess,” Tanisha says.

Viola silently watches me open my lunchbox and remove a plastic container filled with tortellini salad topped with pepperoni and mozzarella cheese. My mom’s idea of a healthy lunch. Today, I’d kill for a cheeseburger and fries.

Raymond and Tanisha sit at the far end of the table and go back to studying for a Trig test. Devin plops onto a chair and dumps his sack lunch on the table, the contents spilling out. I stop a rolling apple and push it back toward him.

I dully watch Devin stuff his face with BBQ potato chips. If he licks his fingers, I’m gonna hurl. A cute sophomore girl, whose name I can never remember, comes over and sits down beside him. They discuss possible new articles for the school paper with him, and she brushes her arm against his while they talk, but Mr. Eagle Eyes Devin pays her little attention. He keeps stealing glances at my chest.

For heaven’s sake, they’re just boobs!

Devin must have sensed my glare boring holes into his head, because he looks up and catches my stare
.

At-a-boy. My eyes are up here.

“Where are you with that Lancaster hacker report?” He glances down to ask my double D-cups.

I squirm and turn in my seat so my huge bazoongas are facing away from him, but it doesn’t do much good. “Turns out there isn’t a story,” I say smoothly. “Just a stupid rumor.”

He frowns. “I’d still like to check your notes. Maybe you missed something—”

“Can you guys discuss this later? She’s trying to eat her lunch.” Viola tucks a wisp of black hair behind her ear.

Whew. Crisis averted. For now.

“You want anything, Sloane?” Devin asks, gesturing to the snack machine. “Viola?”

“No thanks.”

“Bring me back something salty,” Viola says.

Devin gets up and meanders over to the vending machines lining the far wall. Good.

“What’s with you today? You’re not eating, which is unusual, and you’ve been in a funk all week,” Viola says, leaning closer.

“Nothing. I’m just not that hungry today.”

Viola picks up a slice of pepperoni and plops it into her mouth. She’s the lovable lunch vulture, always picking at everyone’s food. “What did you do with the rest of your weekend?”

I turn my back to our other friends and lower my voice, “I hung out with Hayden, actually. At the beach.”

Viola’s eyes widen. “All day? Doing what?”

I stir my salad with a plastic fork. “Kicking back and talking mostly.”

“About?”

I sigh. “Nothing much. Lots of different stuff.”

“Are you two going out again?”

“He did...ask me to go with him to Diego Velazquez’s party.”

She leans forward, her elbows on the table. “Did he now? Like a
real
date?”

“Well, kind of, but only as friends. I think. Although, we did hang out Saturday night, too.” I tell her about going to dinner, but leave out the part where Hayden got creamed by that compact car.

“Such schmoopiness!” She elbows me in the ribs. “I can’t believe my bestie is dating the unobtainable Hayden Lancaster.”

Only I haven’t seen or talked to him since.

“Lower your voice,” I whisper harshly. “We’re
not
actually dating or whatever. Just hanging out.”

She puckers her lips. “Is that why you dropped the hacker story? Because you you’ve been crushing on him forever?”

“Partly,” I admit. “There’s just something about him.”

“Agreed.” She plucks another pepperoni off my salad. “Any vigorous tongue contact yet?”

I rapidly shake my head. “
No
.”

“The kiss will make or break the relationship.” She nods wisely. “If he can’t kiss, there’s no future.”

Viola’s the expert. Not that she’s a ho-bag or anything, she’s just hooked up with more guys than me. Although, we’ve both had a lot of fictional boyfriends, I’ve only had sex with one guy, a hot transfer student from Sweden my junior year, who broke my heart. Guess now I can say that I’ve done it.
Check.
We dated for six months before the international hottie flew back home and I never heard from him again. The sex was okay, but I remember his lips felt slick from too much medicated lip-balm and reeked of menthol. Not quite the Hollywood-romance-fireworks-soaring-music I’d been expecting for my first time, but not terrible.

I take a sip of my grape juice box, then ask, “How do I know if he’s a good kisser?”

“Believe me, you’ll know. You’ll get major butterflies and feel it
everywhere
. If it’s sloppy and wet—like you’re going through an automatic carwash—it’s
bad
.” She fakes a shudder.

“Gross! And you know this from experience?”

“Unfortunately,” she says. “So, you really like him?”

“Unfortunately,” I repeat. “He’s just so infuriatingly guarded, and okay, gorgeous. But underneath his crunchy exterior I can tell he’s a good guy.”

She shakes her head. “You’re headed down Heartbreak Road, you know that, right?”

I nod. My throat dry. “Yeah...more like an unavoidable crash collision.”

With a heavy sigh, I share my cold lunch with Viola and we talk about other things after that. Devin keeps stealing glances at the twins, so I rearrange my leather coat over my chest.

My afternoon classes zoom by like movie trailers. And then the theater goes dark right before the film starts, and mercifully the last bell rings. I’m finally free.

It’s sprinkling and overcast, which matches my mood. I trudge to the Jetta, shielding my books from the rain, to wait for Viola.

“Sloane Masterson?”

I turn curiously, and a young woman in a crimson dress and heels approaches me, dashing rain from her unbuttoned trench with a gloved hand. She has flaxen curls pushed off her face with a headband, a glowing tan, and seriously long legs.

My brows draw inward. “Yes?”

She stops two feet away, and just...stares.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

Her features remain static, yet she almost has this determined dog-with-a-bone expression. “Why, yes. There is something wrong.” Her voice is disconcertingly quiet. “I just
had
to see you in person.”

A slight warning tingle inches up my spine. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The young woman snickers, a peculiar, unnatural sound. The rain continues to fall, slow and ceaseless. The girl’s dress hugs her perfect body and blonde hair sticks to her cheeks.

“You’re nothing special,” she says dejectedly.

“Excuse me?” I frown. “You must have me mixed up with someone—”

“Oh, no. I
know
who you are...you’re the girl who ruined my life.” She drags a hand through her shoulder-length curls.

“What? I don’t even know you!” I cast a glance around the parking lot. This girl is obviously one fry short of a Happy Meal.

“Relative term. Now you see me—now you don’t,” she sings.

Oh, yeah. Completely freaky-deaky.

Whirling, she begins skipping toward a car parked in a far corner of the lot.

What the heck was that all about? A case of mistaken identity? That must be it.

A girl in all black snags my attention. Viola is sashaying her way over to me.

“Thanks for waiting. I needed to get those notes from Tanisha for a big test tomorrow.” Viola stops beside me. “Ready?”

“Are there any mental hospitals around here?” I ask.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because I think I just met an asylum escapee.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?”

“Guess not.”

After dropping Viola off at home, I go straight to my room and drag out my emergency stash from under the bed. I open the shoebox crammed with candy bars and other tasty snacks. I rip open a package of twin yellow cupcakes, and then grab a fruit rollup. Munching on various goodies while doing my homework, I text Hayden four times over the next two hours.

No response. My mood takes a nosedive into Depresso Land and I feel like throwing my phone at the wall.

I’m too sulky and bloated from my junk food binge to eat dinner with my mom and brother, so instead I watch a horror flick in my room.

I should forget all about Hayden. Just walk away. End things now before they get out of control and someone gets hurt. Namely, me.

But I’m struck with the oddest sensation of falling through the clouds, plummeting hard and fast, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

Sometimes being reckless is thrilling.

Sometimes being stupid-crazy with your heart feels too good to resist.

The alarm shrieks and I bang it with a fist. I don’t feel like going to school. I haven’t skipped in forever and I’m due for a mental health day. After I shower and get dressed—pretending to go to school for my mom’s benefit—I drive past Hayden’s uncle’s house looking for his Range Rover. Nada. The house appears dark and quiet.

Hayden had better have lost his cell phone or he’s going to get an ear-full from me when I do finally see him!

With a heavy heart, I keep driving and park at Shadowland Memorial Cemetery. My refuge. Before getting out of the car, I text Viola.

Me: Is Hayden at school today?

Viola: Nope. Where R U?

Me: Need some downtime. At graveyard. Call U later.

Shoving my phone into my backpack next to my laptop and a bunch of plastic flowers, I open the car door and get out. The warm sunlight brightens the cloudless blue sky and filters through the lush trees dotting the landscape. Weeping willows sway in the breeze, the droopy branches scraping nearby tombstones. A patch of clover attracts the attention of several whirring bumblebees.

Once I find a shady place to sit, I get comfortable and power on the computer. I pirate onto somebody’s Net—the graveyard’s usually like a
Dead Zone
, so to speak, but I get lucky—to write two new posts for my column, and then surf the Web on upcoming horror movies that I can review during spring break.

At noon, I scarf down a tuna sandwich that I packed this morning. While I consume my lunch, I watch two mourners pick out a gravesite, then I slip in a DVD to watch. Once the horror film ends, I check my emails and answer a few comments on my last editorial, then shut down the laptop and put it away.

Getting up to stretch, I roam around to rearrange the fresh roses placed near tombstones and distribute the plastic flowers I brought so that neglected graves have a minor tribute, too. A glance at my phone says two o’clock, and I wander over to Hayden’s grandpa’s headstone to read the inscription:
John William Lancaster - Beloved Father, Husband, and Grandfather

No date of birth or death carved into the stone. No indication of how long he actually lived. Those Lancasters are too dang smart.

Footsteps stomp over the grass and I look over my shoulder.

Well, bury me alive. If it isn’t Zach Lancaster.

He stops three feet from me, his lips pulled downward in a sneer. “What are you doing near my grandfather’s grave, fat ass?”

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“Are you hard of hearing?”

“No,” I say, lifting my chin. “What’s your problem, anyway? What’ve I ever done to you?”

“I just don’t like your
kind
.”

What a butthead. I couldn’t care less what he thinks of me. But I do care about his brother.

“My kind?” I pretend to be clueless. “You’re not my type either, but that’s no reason to be a hater.”

He steps closer. “Oh, I dislike you for lots of reasons, fatty.”

Every ounce of skin prickles with heat. I keep trying to suck in air, but nothing happens. My lungs start to burn. I take a shuddering breath and exhale. My cheeks feel hot as stove burners.

Relax. Don’t let the jerk get to you.

I rest both hands on my love handles. “How’s Hayden? Why hasn’t he been in school?”

“Ask him yourself.”

“I would if he’d return any of my calls,” I mumble.

He rubs his chin. “Never thought of Hayden as a chubby chaser, but I guess I don’t know my brother as well as I thought I did.”

That strikes a raw nerve. If it’s not guys like Devin with his boob-obsession, its jerks like Zach with their fat-shaming jokes. Maybe that’s why I like Hayden so much. He’s never outright mean to other people and not once has he ogled the twins. Zach should take some pointers from his politer older brother.

Do yourself a favor and don’t quit school to become a comedian. ’Cause you’re not funny.” My bearing is stiff and proud, but my self-confidence is still in chaos. “

Zach swats me away with one hand like an annoying gnat. “Do you mind? I’d like to pay my respects to my grandfather in peace.”

“Whatever, douchebag.”

He chuckles darkly. “You’ve got some
fattitude
—I like it!”

I feel the scald of shame for being overweight warm my face, like I need to start wearing a large crimson “F” for fat on all my clothes. Even though my self-esteem takes another plunge. I can’t let him know that.

I roll my eyes. “Thanks, but I’ve yet to find a
single
redeeming quality in you.”

Before he can have the last word, I stamp back to the Jetta. I debate sitting in my car and following Zach home to find out where they live, but think better of it. It’s still daylight and with my purple hair, I’ll be easily spotted tailgating someone. Instead, I go home and sulk in my room.

“Knock, Knock.”

I glance up from my textbook and smile. “Hi, Dad. When did you get home?”

“My flight got in about an hour ago.” My dad moves into the room, stepping over a pile of dirty laundry. His polo shirt and khakis are rumpled. “You hungry? I was going to order Chinese takeout. Got a craving for lemon chicken tonight.”

“Not really.” Jinx sashays into the room, jumps on my bed, and stretches out his furry body next to mine. “Working on a new article? You’ve been gone a lot.”

He leans against the wall, arms folded. “Actually, a big murder trial in San Francisco just came up and I’m going to cover the entire story. It’ll be long hours, which means I’ll need you to help out more around here, kiddo.”

Translation: babysit the nuisance they spawned while my parents are working.

“Sure.” I stroke the cat’s head. “Um, Dad...”

“Yes, honey?”

“Um…I’ve noticed this weird guy creeping around lately. Are you still part of that Neighborhood Watch thing?”

His arms fly apart and his hands tense at his sides. “What does he look like?”

“He wears dark sunglasses and black clothing.”

“How many times have you seen him?” he asks.

“Um, he appears at these totally random times, but there’s definitely something super creepy about him.”

He heavily sighs. “Do you think he’s actually following you?”

I shrug. “Possibly. I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

“Look, honey, don’t worry, I’ll look into it.” He scratches the scruff on his unshaven cheek. “Does your mother know about this?”

“No. I didn’t want to bother her with it…in case, you know, it turns out to be nothing.” I sigh. “It could just be my overactive imagination, anyway.”

“Good. No need to worry her. She’s stressed enough right now.”

I nod, petting the cat. “Sure, Dad. Whatever you say.”

My dad crosses his arms over his chest again, one finger absently tapping his elbow. “I’ll talk to the neighbors,” he says irritably. “But I strongly think you need to stop watching so many of those scary movies, young lady.”

He’s acting like my possible stalker is just a big inconvenience to him, something else he has to deal with at the moment. I love my dad, but he can be a tad self-absorbed, like my mom. Maybe that’s why they get along so great.

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

“Sloane, I just meant that if you spent half as much time doing homework as you do reviewing movies, you’d get excellent grades and stay on the honor roll.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” I scratch Jinx behind the ears. “Let me know when dinner arrives.”

“Will do, kiddo.” He turns and goes back downstairs.

After dinner with my family for a rare change, I go back to my room and finish writing an essay before going to bed. I toss and turn most of the night, dreaming about Hayden. In the dream, he’s the love of my life, whisking me into his arms on a secluded beach. We dance on the sand and waves crash over our bare feet. Hayden tells me that he doesn’t care about the rules or that dating humans is forbidden by his people. He only cares about us being together. Hayden dips me backward and kisses me deeply as if I’m the air he needs to breathe.

The next morning, I awake to my dad banging on my bedroom door and interrupting my amazing dream.

“Sloane, school! Now, young lady,” he yells through the wood.

“Okay!” I say groggily. “Stop banging.”

I peek at the alarm clock, then sit upright in bed.

Crapola!
I’ve overslept and missed my first class. Skipping a shower, I get ready lightning quick and speed off to school.

After going to the office with a note from my dad excusing my tardiness, I rush into second period and take my seat. Today, I attempt to pay attention. I don’t want to fall behind more than I already am. I need to focus on normal stuff. It’s the only way to keep my mind off the things eating me up inside. Like worrying about Hayden.

When the freedom bell chimes at the end of the long day, I bolt from my seat and rush out of class. Just as I’m getting into my car, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and sweet relief floods my system, leaving me woozy.

My gaze lingers on those blue/green eyes, then I take in the full shape of his beautiful mouth. And that floppy light brown hair—that I yearn to brush from his forehead.

“Where have you been hiding, stranger?” I lean back against the Jetta’s door.

Hayden wears a dazzling smile. “I’ve been around.”

Cars back out and students walk past, but all I can focus on is Hayden. His nearness fills me with warmth and happiness. But I grind my teeth because he’s ignored me for days, and now I’m acting like a love-starved puppy.

Lifting up my cell, I jostle it in his face. “Why haven’t you called or texted?”

“Whoa.” He holds up his hands. “I’m sorry, Sloane. I...I just wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.”

“Why wasn’t it a good idea to at least text me back and let me know that you were okay?”

“Truth? I was worried about mingling our two
extremely
different worlds, Sloane. If it was even smart…” He sighs. “But you’re very persistent.”

You got that right.

“So, all better?” I ask, softening my tone. “No more broken limbs?”

“Much.”

“Then why no contact?” I raise a brow and serve up some well-deserved attitude. “Here in
Sloane World
, we return texts and calls. And I don’t know about
you
, but I treat my friends with respect.”

“Uh, yeah about that—”

“So not cool.” I grasp his shirt and twist it in my fist. “Friends don’t pull that crap on each other, understand?”

“Got it.” He shakes his head. “We still on for Saturday night?”

Oh, we’re still on, trust me.

I release my grip on his shirt. “Just don’t pull another disappearing act.”

“Never again.” He shuffles his feet and stares at a crack in the asphalt. “Sloane...you ever get the feeling that this is one of those things that maybe shouldn’t happen?”

“What do you mean?”

He lifts his head and clears his throat. “You’re the kind of girl that leads the pack, and when I saw you in the graveyard, it was like I knew you were
different
. But I never would’ve approached you...but that doesn’t mean, I didn’t notice you before that, though.”

“Oh, I’ve seen you, too,” I admit. But I don’t tell him that I’ve been crushing on him since his very first day as a new student at Haven High.

“I’ve seen you see me.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Before now there was no way I would’ve gone there.”

“Why not? Was it the human thing?”

“No. I mean, I liked you, anyway. You just lived in another world.” He moves closer to me. “Now I’d really like to get to know the real Sloane.”

Just kiss me now. Full surrender.

I try to swallow, but he’s suddenly so close I can’t think clearly or speak.

“I’ve missed you the last couple of days,” Hayden says.

He has no idea how much I’ve missed him, too.

He smiles ever so slightly. “Have you missed me?”

I twist and untwist my fingers. “Much more than I’d like to admit.”

My cheeks heat. Kill me now. I did
not
just say that.

His gaze is alight with humor. “Life is meaningless without me?”

I roll my eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments.”

Hayden stares into my face. “So…seriously, you still want to go to the party or not?”

“Yeah, if you still want to go.”

“Unquestionably.”

He is so tantalizingly close, his scent so intoxicating that I’m just stupidly grinning in response. Then I impulsively hug him and—
Surprise! Surprise!
—he hugs me back. My boobs press into his chest, but Hayden doesn’t even seem to notice.

When he pulls back, a wry smile forms on his lips. “Maybe I should skip school more often.”