Lost in Starlight (Starlight Saga) (4 page)

Twisting a piece of hair around my finger, I use one hand to type in “spoon bending” but some of the sites with articles on telekinetic powers aren’t much help. But I do come across one blog that explains how to bend metal cutlery without physical force. It’s a common magic trick. Yet...it sure didn’t seem like Hayden was impersonating a magician when he’d bent that fork.

I decide to do a quick search on “human teleportation” and I’m amazed at all the websites that come up. One site explains that teleportation is the ability to transport from one place to another in a matter of seconds. Well, duh.

The next site I click on states:
If humans could teleport, they would most likely be the next stage of human evolution or have become mutated somehow. These mutants could teleport using the same principle as a fax machine. When you fax a document, what comes out the other end obviously looks like the original and contains the same information.

Interesting theory.

I scratch behind Jinx’s ears and he purrs loudly. With my free hand, I log into Facebook. Hayden or Zach must have a profile. I search the site for ten minutes before giving up. Just to be thorough, I check other social media. Zero. Zilch. Nil.

No archives of any kind. I can’t even find anything about Hayden getting busted for hacking into Haven High’s computer system. No past records for schools, homes, locations, or jobs—as though the family doesn’t exist. Maybe they’re in the Witness Protection Program.

Retrieving my notebook from my bag, I write all this down for future reference like a good reporter. My dad would be so proud.

Still, I have a lot more questions churning in my brain. Why don’t the Lancasters have any records? Where did they really come from? And why did they move to Winter Haven?

Total frustration?
Check.

Futile searching?
Check.

Super cranky, Sloane?
Double check.

Sighing, I lean back against the pillows and update my editorial “Fright Night Babble” on the
Haven Gazette
’s website. Not that I’m a gorehound. I only review psychological or horror movies, or chilling science fiction—
no plotless slasher films, please
—in my column.

Next, I read the comments from my last post on clichés in scary movies.
Yay!
Three new ones. After answering a few questions about the article, I browse a few of my favorite review blogs, then I power off the laptop.

Stretching, I get up and go downstairs to wait for the pizza.

Even though I didn’t find much, I’m not going to give up. Feeling more determined than ever, I vow to discover the Lancaster’s deepest, darkest secrets. And who they might be hiding out from.

Welcome, Snarklings!

These overworked movie villain clichés make me want to vomit pea soup!

One of the worst clichés is the invincible villain. Some of them have reasons (ghost killer, undead zombie guy, indestructible supernatural monster, etc.) but most of them don’t.
Get real!

And if I had a yellow cupcake for every time some evil baddie threw an ax or a knife so powerfully and accurately that it defies physics, I’d be a happy foodie.
Ugh!

Peace, love, and horror flicks,

Zombie Queen aka Sloane

When my last class ends, I stop at my locker to get my Trig textbook. The doors at the end of the hall bang open, releasing students for the day and letting in a gust of warm air. Several obtrusive fluorescent lights flicker overhead.

Across the hallway and a few lockers over from mine are Zach and Hayden. An angry red spray-painted slash taints the metal door. Some jerk must’ve tagged Hayden’s locker again.

While opening my locker, I’m suddenly aware that Hayden’s blatantly staring at me. Hard to miss. He’s like a man among boys, at least in his flawless physique. His messenger bag is in one hand, and drumsticks stick out of his back pocket. I lift my hand in a hesitant little wave. He doesn’t return my gesture, just continues gazing at me through those thick lashes that frame his unique eyes. My head goes all woozy. Even my limbs feel jittery. Frustration and confusion are warring inside me for having
any
feelings whatsoever for someone like him. And what’s with the stare?

A wave of nervousness hits hard. Is there toilet paper hanging out of my jeans? Food stuck in my teeth? Or have Frankenstein bolts suddenly sprouted from my neck?

Being on Hayden’s radar is a little unsettling. I admit there’s something about Mr. Puppy Hero’s rare smiles, lopsided with an edge, that draw girls to him like insects buzzing a bug zapper. For better or worse, no one can resist Hayden Lancaster. Not even me.

Our gazes lock for just one second, and heat rushes beneath my skin. Hayden isn’t gawking at my chest like most boys. He’s only looking at my face, which further complicates my feelings for this strange guy.

Unable to understand the fluttery sensation in my stomach because Hayden is noticing
me
and not my chest, I jerk around and rearrange the books in my locker. I try focusing on everything but
him.

Two juniors stop at the locker beside mine. One of them opens it and takes out a textbook.

Her friend elbows me aside and says under her breath, “That girl has a pretty face, but she totally needs to put down the jelly donuts.”

The other girl giggles and glances over at me. My cheeks warm and my ears burn. I should be used to the fat remarks, but it still stings and each time my ego takes a massive hit. I pull my coat tighter around me, but the zipper is broken. I busted it trying to zip my jacket over my enormous boobs. Sometimes I
really
hate living in such a skinny-obsessed world. I could
so
use a chocolate shake with extra whipped cream right now, even though my mom calls that ‘eating your emotions.’ Whatevas.

The girls take off in the opposite direction, and my face cools down considerably.

Several lockers past mine, this senior named Max Phelps rubs his knuckles over another boy’s head, making the kid yelp and almost drop his PS Vita.

“Hey!” Hayden crosses the hallway in two seconds. “Leave him alone.”

The much taller senior glares down at Hayden and snatches the portable game console from the freshman’s hands. Hayden shakes his head and sighs.

“What do you care, Lancaster?” Max shuffles back uncomfortably.

Hayden wears a tight, cool smile. “Give the guy back his game, Max.”

“I was just having a little fun with him,” Max says. “Stay out of it.”

“Wish I could, but I can’t stand bullies,” Hayden replies calmly. “So you can either give the kid back his game, or we’re going to have a serious problem.”

Hot damn. Hayden in protector-mode is seriously hot.

Max hesitates only for a second before thrusting the PS Vita at the kid. “Whatever.” He storms off.

The freshman looks from Max’s retreating back to Hayden. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime,” Hayden replies. “If Max bothers you again, let me know.”

“Yeah. Sure.” The kid stuffs the game into his backpack. “See ya around.”

Hayden nods and goes back to his locker.

Zach slaps his older brother on the back. “Always playing the hero, huh, bro?” he says in a mocking tone.

Hayden brushes him off. “Don’t start with me.”

I open my purse, sitting inside my open locker, and smear lip gloss over my dry lips. After several deep breaths, I pull out my Hello Kitty notebook and scribble:
Hayden is a defender against bullies.
Check.

From the corner of my eye, Zach zips his letterman jacket and shuffles his feet, his high-tops squeaking on the dirty tiled floor. Hayden says something to Zach, and then pushes away from the wall. Hayden Lancaster is coming over here.

Oh, fudge.
No, stop, go away. No, stop...

Shoving my notebook back into my purse, I hang my head. His shoes—checkerboard Vans—step into my line of sight. Hayden drums out a speedy rhythm on the thighs of his jeans with his fingers as if trying to figure out what to say.

Nerves gather in my belly as I slowly face him. His lashes lift, revealing irises so peculiar they can’t be real. For a moment, I’m completely and utterly lost to everything but the beauty of his swirling gaze. My heart trips up and I inhale sharply. The hint of masculine cologne and expensive soap swamps my senses and I swoon—right down to my toes.

“Hey,” I say. “Did you need something?”

Hayden nods. “Actually, I wanted…”

A couple of sickly thin seniors, Emma Fowler and Kaitlyn Carter, pass by us and hang near their lockers. They’re discussing some big party that Diego Velazquez is throwing at his beachfront house. Both girls give Hayden the obvious once-over, as if he’s a sexy model on the cover of
Teen Vogue
.

I resist rolling my eyes at the way Emma and Kaitlyn are so obviously salivating over Hayden. But who can blame them? He actually looks extra sexy today in a pair of dark-washed jeans and a vintage band T-shirt that makes his arms appear even more muscled. His fauxhawk droops onto his forehead, and I fight the urge to brush it back into place.

Hayden glances at the girls, then moves closer. So close now, that if I took about five or six steps, and stand on my toes, I could actually reach out and hold his hand. But I’m way too chicken.

He lifts one hand, hanging his thumb off his front pocket. “We need to talk, Sloane.”

I blink rapidly and shake my head. “No. We don’t.” I swallow hard, trying to control my emotions. “Don’t worry, Clark Kent, your superpowers are safe with me. And I know, ‘Don’t tell anyone about me, blah, blah, blah.’ So my lips are sealed.”

For now, anyway.

“Clark Kent?”

“That cute superhero who constantly saves the planet.”

“Yeah. I know.” Hayden quirks an eyebrow. “You like the comic books or the movies better?”

“Actually the TV series. Tom Welling is yum.” I tilt my head. “So, are you gonna tell me how you went all Speedy Gonzalez and saved that dog?”

He takes a step toward me and maintains his impassive expression, but there’s a hard glint in his eyes. “No.”

Ah, king of the short answers.

I put a hand on my hip. “Okay, I see we’re going with the ‘Go Dog, Go,’ responses again today. Gee, I just
love
guys with vocabs limited to Dr. Seuss.”

A condescending grin twists his mouth and he takes another step closer. “Sarcasm. Cute.”

Emma and Kaitlyn start whispering, obviously talking about Hayden and me. Seriously? Don’t they have better things to do? Where’s my inner
beotch
survival guide when I need it? Maybe I can just whack them over the head with it and make them go away.

Shuffling back, I raise my chin. “So do you have any other superhuman abilities?”

Once the words leave my mouth, I cringe.
Not
the way to get the hot guy to open up.

He frowns as if caught off guard by my bluntness. “Are you serious? What kind of dumbass question is that?”

“No normal person could’ve moved that fast.”

“What the hell?” Hayden moves forward again. “Are you accusing me of something?” His voice is low, but strong.

“Maybe.” I shift away from him. “Are you hiding something?”

Hayden takes another step in my direction. “What could I possibly be hiding, Sloane?”

He’s so intoxicatingly close now, almost close enough to touch. One more step, and his lean, muscular body will be pressed against mine. A small thin scar mars his chin. So he’s not entirely perfect.

Rewind. Stop that line of thought! Observe
only
.

I shuffle backward to create space between us and clear my head, hitting the row of lockers. “I
saw
you. So just fess up. You have some type of unnatural abilities, right?”

The loudspeaker crackles and a secretary calls some kid to the office, drowning out my accusation. The eavesdropping girls finally meander out the exit doors. They’re going to have to get their gossip fix elsewhere.

But now I’m alone in the corridor. With Hayden.

Hayden closes the distance between us. He leans down until his lips graze my cheek. My pulse gallops at the intimate contact. “You have an overactive imagination,” he whispers into my ear.

He leans back. That guarded and impenetrable expression is infuriating, and for some reason the guy gets under my skin.

Hayden’s eyes search mine. “I’m curious…if I did have so-called superpowers, why aren’t you freaking out about what you think you saw?”

I grind my teeth. “Think? I
know
what I saw. You somehow moved inhumanly fast from one place to another, and rescued a dog before it was hit by a car. When you landed on the pavement, your feet created indents in the asphalt the size of a small crater.
And
I caught the whole thing on my phone.”

Mental face palm. Real smooth. Now he knows I filmed his impossible-dog-rescuing-stunt.

“Shit.” Hayden crowds me, placing both of his palms flat on the locker on either side of my head. “You recorded it? Why?” His voice rises, sounding infuriated and his eyes stony. “What the hell were you even doing there, Sloane?”

Unsteady, I press myself against the cold metal lockers. “It was after school. I was headed home. Why else would I be in the parking lot?”

He turns his head a fraction and blows out a breath. “I’ve seen you around campus with your friends. You’re into weird stuff, right? Maybe you watch too many scary movies, so now you
think
you saw something out of the ordinary, but you didn’t.” His tone is stern like a parent scolding a child. “Give me your phone.”

Trapped, I tilt my head upward. “No.”

His strange gaze burns into me. “C’mon, Sloane. Now.”

I narrow my eyes. I don’t
want
to be attracted to him. I bet nothing can spear that overconfident ego of his. Hell knows it can use some deflating. I take a deep breath through my nose to clear my thoughts. But with him this close, his musky scent taints the air, and it’s doing weird things to my brain.

I lick my glossed lips. “Not in this lifetime.”

We scowl at each other in silence. Hayden lowers his head again, and now we’re sharing the same oxygen. I don’t break eye contact. A predatory look overtakes his features. My heart is out of control, pumping blood way too fast. My emotions are yo-yoing from feeling anger and confusion to uncertainty and attraction.

His gaze drops to my mouth. For a wild second, I think he’s going to lean down and kiss me. The problem is I
want
him to. Right now. Tingles spread throughout my body as if I’m riding a drama-filled rollercoaster of emotion. This is the first time I’ve ever felt the pull of intense lust, and I’m not at all equipped to handle it.

His lips part slightly as if he’s going to say something, but then he blinks and backs away.

“I said I wasn’t going to tell anyone, so you can put down your torch and pitchfork, okay?” I say, folding my arms.

Hayden raises his head and something fierce seethes in his expression that reminds me of the documentaries I’ve watched about leopards on Netflix, the way the sleek jungle cats crouch in wait of unsuspecting prey before they pounce.

Devin rushes down the hall and skids to a stop when he sees us. His gaze goes directly to my breasts. “Sloane, we’re going to be late.” He looks up, glancing from Hayden to me, then back at Hayden. “Hey, I’m Devin Greenspan, editor of the
Haven Gazette
.” He puts out his hand for Hayden to shake.

He ignores Devin’s outstretched hand. His smile looks stiff and forced. “Hayden Lancaster.”

I can’t help comparing the two boys. Hayden is muscular compared to the other boy’s scrawniness. Devin’s legs are as thin as twigs, bundled in nothing more than worn, baggy jeans. His chest so frail, the bump of each rib is visible beneath his ketchup stained
Dawn of the Dead
T-shirt. Eyes a watery blue and skin so pale, Devin resembles a creature that’s spent its life in perpetual shadow. Sometimes I even imagine Devin as a Gollum-like creature hovering around me and claiming my boobs as his ‘precious.’ Just
ewww
.

Why the hell can’t I bring myself to tell him off? Viola would tell the creeper to back the fudge off and get a life.

“Looks like someone spray painted your locker again,” Devin says to Hayden. “Do you have a statement for the school paper? Or a suspect in mind?”

Hayden’s jaw clenches, but his face remains impassive. “No comment.”

What is he, a robot?

Devin turns his attention back to my chest. “Hurry up or you’ll be late for the meeting.”

With my back to Hayden, I pull Devin aside
.
“I’ll be there in a minute. I’m kinda busy right now,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Okay. Okay. I got it.” Devin walks away, disappearing inside a classroom further down the hall.

Time to get a handle on my emotions and not let the fact that I’m seriously crushing on this guy affect my determination to get the whole story.

I turn back to Hayden, who’s standing in front of my locker now. “Ready to spill?”

“Hardly…but something’s bothering me…you seem so calm about the whole thing.” Hayden’s voice comes out low and gruff. “You’re really not weirded out?”

“No. ‘I, myself, am strange and unusual,’” I say, quoting one of my favorite movies,
Beetlejuice.
Love me some Tim Burton films.

For a brief moment, he smiles. “You
are
a strange girl.”