Lost in Starlight (Starlight Saga) (6 page)

And try to figure out what’s actually happening between the mysterious Hayden Lancaster and me.

Welcome, Snarklings!

Today’s editorial is about slasher movie “the pleading victim” clichés that make me see red. And if you’re a certified horrorphila like me, then you’ll agree with the lameness.

Why whenever the victim is trapped or tied to a chair and the killer is about torture them, the pathetic character always says the same dumb thing?

Like: “Please. You don’t have to do this.”
I’m pretty sure that the killer knows he doesn’t have to do this, but he just wants to.

Or: “Don’t kill me. I have a wife/husband and children.”
Killers don’t care!

And the classic: “If you let me go, I promise I won’t tell anyone!”
Don’t waste your breath because the killer won’t believe you.

Stupidest response: “Why are you doing this?”
Okay, isn’t it obvious?
He’s a total psycho!
Duh.

Peace, love, and horror flicks,

Zombie Queen aka Sloane

Strolling to my last class, I congratulate myself on successfully evading Hayden since Wednesday’s lunch disaster. That was the last
real
interaction I’ve had with him. Except in the one class we share. He sits two rows ahead of me, and I watch him sometimes, unable to stop myself. More than once, I’ve caught him glancing in my direction with his jaw clenched, but he tries to play it off by pretending to dig through his backpack.

Still, it’s been drama free for two days, and now I have a handle on this thing. No weird awkwardness or harsh glares. Minimal eye contact. And zero verbal interaction. Just those wary glances that make my heart rate skyrocket.

“Do you want me to carry your books?” Devin asks.

What? Are we in elementary school?

I shake my head. “No thanks.”

Walking down the hall with Devin is the absolute last thing I want to do. He’s a popular target for spitballs lately, and when we reach the door, he’s blasted by two idiots standing in the hallway.

Devin wipes off the wadded paper in disgust. “How’s the Lancaster-Hacker story going?”

Not very well. Been avoiding him for days.

“It’s going...” I mumble.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that I’m working a fresh angle.” I bite my lip. “I’m thinking of writing an additional exposé on teen bullying at this school, and guys like Hayden who actually stick up for other kids.”

His gaze lowers to the mega-boobs. “That might be thought-provoking.”

Why can’t he just leave me alone? And why don’t I have the guts to tell him to stop all the ogling?

“Is that why you sat with Hayden at lunch earlier this week?” he asks.

“Um, yeah.” I tap his chin upward. “Eyes up here, please.”

His head rises for a whole five seconds, then he leers at my breasts again. “I can put someone else on this story—”

“No,” I say quickly, and then relax my shoulders. “I have a lead I’m working on. Don’t stress it. I’ll get to the truth.”

Eventually.

“Fine, but I’ll need that hacker article by the end of the month.”

So far, I have zero on the hacking. And I don’t want to spill anything about Hayden’s possible superhuman abilities. Not until I know more.

I nod briskly. “Sure. No prob.”

Devin lingers beside me instead of heading to his own class. “What’s going on between you and Hayden, anyway?” he asks my boobs as if he’s in danger of losing his two best friends.

Besides the fact that I’m strangely attracted to Hayden and he keeps brushing me off. Not much.

My face heats. “Nothing. He’s a story, that’s
all
. Why would you ask?”

“I’ve seen the sparkage between you guys,” he says wryly.

“What? No! I barely know him.” I can taste the lie coating my tongue. My body temperature spikes. I’m so hot that sweat prickles under my arms.

“After the way you ate him up with your eyes the other day, you can’t expect me to believe you aren’t crushing on him.”

I open my mouth to deny it, but then don’t.

“Unless, you’re just trying to get closer to him by being all flirty. I mean, you
definitely
have two great assets.” Devin turns, casually rubbing his elbow against the side of my breast. He’s unashamedly feeling me up with his arm, right there in the corridor next to the open classroom door.

That’s it! I’m going to kill him. Those spitballs are going to seem like love taps.

Ignoring the other students rushing past, like rats scurrying back to their mazes, I glare at Devin.

“Back off. Like now.” I take a step backward and clench my hands. “Copping a feel with your elbow? Seriously, Devin, I will punch you.”

“Slow your roll!” He throws up his hands. “You know, you’re not as tough as you think you are.”

I put a hand on my hip. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re not as cool as
you
think you are.”

“Excuse me. Someone’s panties are in a bunch.”

I roll my eyes. “Why are you talking about my panties?”

“Why not? Unless, you wanna tell me what color they are—”

“Ewww!
No
.” I take a deep breath and release it. “If any sort of touching happens again, I’m quitting the paper, got it?”

He nods, his gaze staying above the neckline. “Yeah. Yeah.”

From the corner of my eye, Hayden is watching us from across the hall. His stare looks murderous and it’s locked on Devin. Hayden rushes forward, cheeks flushed. He glances at Devin, and then me.

“Sloane, you okay?” Hayden asks.

Frustration crosses Devin’s gaunt features. “This isn’t any of your business.”

“Well, now I’m making it my business,” he says, anger sharpening his words.

“It’s fine, Hayden,” I say. “I got this handled.”

He nods, but doesn’t move, as if he’s uneasy about leaving me alone with jerkface Devin.

Devin reaches out to touch me, but I lurch away. Hurt flickers across his face.

“I’ll see you later, Devin.”
As in, I’m leaving before I smack you upside the head, skeevy pervert.

“Yeah, later,” Devin says, and hurries down the hall.

I turn to thank Hayden, but he’s already walking away, his back to me—in the wrong direction for our next class. He opens the bathroom door and slips inside. I don’t know what to think anymore. How does he switch so quickly from one mood to the next? First, Hayden acts like he hates me, and then he defends my honor. All this confusion is making my head hurt.

I shuffle into class and take my seat, putting my stuff on the floor. The calculus teacher, Mrs. Brooks, walks around the room, distributing a paper to each desk. Class doesn’t start for a few minutes and the room hums with conversation. Two girls look over at me with sly glances. Apparently, sharing lunch with Hayden has turned me into some sort of celebrity.

After slipping on my earbuds, my fingers sneak inside my leather jacket to the hidden pocket where my iPod rests, switching the song to “Still Into You” by the awesome
Paramore
.

Two rows ahead of mine sit Emma and Kaitlyn. Emma’s Haven High’s Urban-It-girl or so she thinks. Bleached hair. Super thin body. Designer clothes. Personally, I call her Evil-Boobless Barbie. She glances at me, her pink lips curling up in a fake smile, and twists the cap off her Vitamin Water. We share a silent look of recognition from one queen bee to another.

Hayden enters the room, sliding into his seat across from Emma seconds after the bell rings. He acknowledges me with the classic chin jerk that only cool guys can pull off. I return the nod and lower my head, hoping to appear indifferent, impartial, and not the least bit interested in him.

But when I glance over at Hayden a few minutes later, a sudden passionate curiosity consumes me. I wonder if his firm, sensual lips feel as soft as they look. If kissing him will be sweet as sin. I sigh. Something’s building inside me, like a primal instinct, gravitating more and more toward Hayden. But having a major crush on someone is like sealing your heart into a freezer bag and checking it at the airport luggage counter. There’s a chance it’ll make the trip and come out unharmed, but there is also a bigger chance it’ll end up crushed beyond recognition, needing dental records to identify it.

Casting aside the confusing whirl of emotions, I lower my gaze and fumble with the iPod in my secret compartment, cranking the volume to block out him and everyone else in the room. I need to stay focused on my article and stop daydreaming about making out with him.

But maybe I’m not the only one with those types of lusty thoughts. Sometimes in class or in the hallways at school, I catch Hayden looking at me with a curious stare like a hawk, his eyes hooded and a small smile playing on his beautiful lips. Often there’s even a kind of softness in his gaze that a girl can get lost in. Other times he watches me closely with an unreadable expression that drives me crazy because I don’t know what he’s thinking. He’s so unapproachable that I have the strongest urge to dig deeper and get inside his head. And by his not-so-sly glances, I’m starting to think I fascinate him as much as he intrigues me.

Taking out some binder paper, I feel the weight of someone’s stare. Hayden has twisted around in his seat and is staring intently in my direction. His blue/green gaze is unwavering and intense. My temperature soars. For a second, his gaze flares into the hottest flame. I lower the volume on my iPod in case he wants to say something to me. But he just blows out a breath and slowly faces forward. That boy has a disturbing effect on my heart rate. And I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking right now.

Emma sitting next to him leans into the aisle. “Hayden,” she whispers, loud enough for the entire class to hear. “You poor sexy thing, having to eat lunch with Barney the other day.”

Hayden’s eyebrows rise. “Who?”

“Barney, as in the purple dinosaur on that kiddie show.” Emma strokes his arm. “You can sit with me tomorrow and any other day, if you want.” She tilts her head in my direction in an annoyingly outward display of pure meanness.

If she wanted a mortal enemy, well, now she’s got one.

Hayden jerks his arm out of her reach, clearly displaying the “get the hell away from me” body language. Good.

Her bottom lip pouts and her body twitches as if she’s not used to rejection.

“Emma? You might want to see a doctor about that tick,” Hayden says evenly.

Her lips pucker, but then she plasters on a big smile. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Gag me.

Maybe Emma’s still hating on me for that article I wrote on her and Kaitlyn’s shoplifting spree at a ritzy department store over Christmas vacay. She has a serious competitive streak and likes to compete with me for everything, which now includes the boy I not-so-secretly like. In our own way, we’re both the most popular girls in school. She rules over one half of the student body and I rule over the other. Hence, the invisible clique war.

But that’s not what’s important. Hayden stuck up for me. Twice in one day. My heart does that weird swoony thing again.

“This is a test, folks,” Mrs. Brooks says in her nasally voice. “Put your textbooks away and get out a pencil.”

Everyone groans. I remove my earbuds and turn off my iPod.

“Heads down, people,” Mrs. Brooks says. “Begin, now.”

I grip my pencil and start taking the test, but my mind can’t focus on the equations. Instead, I imagine the perfect movie moment, Hayden and I watching a scary film in my room and sharing a tub of popcorn. He leans closer and we have our first buttery kiss—

Whoa there, Sloane.
Where the hell did that come from?

Sometimes it’s exhausting being in my brain. I shake my head clear of the fantasy. Focus. But I can’t. The guy’s got amazing superpowers...

What if Hayden’s with the X-Men?
Lame.

Or a mutant secretly living among us?
Nah.

Maybe he’s a Norse God.
No, that’s stupid.

A being from outer space?
Even stupider.

Before my mind can hatch any more dumb Hayden theories, I notice he’s just sitting there. His paper lies on the desk beside his pencil while everyone else is still bent over their test in quiet deliberation. The clock above the door reads that only seven minutes have passed. No way could Hayden have finished that fast. I flip through the three-stapled pages of calculus problems.

I can’t tell if he’s actually done or if he just didn’t bother to take it. Frowning, I lean forward in my seat to scan Hayden’s test.

“Miss Masterson.” Mrs. Brooks’s voice booms throughout the quiet room and startles me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I slump back in my seat, my face flushing hot. “Nothing.”

The teacher scribbles out a note and stands. “I do
not
tolerate cheaters in my classroom, young lady.”

The entire class turns in their seats to glance at me. Even Hayden. Talk about mega tense awkwardness.

With my elbows resting on the desk, I drop my head into my hands and close my eyes, wishing for the sudden and swift zombie apocalypse.

Mrs. Brooks crosses the room and hovers near my desk, tapping her Payless shoe impatiently. “Miss Masterson, please look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

I slowly lift my head, unable to swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat.

Mrs. Brooks waves the note at me. “Leave your test and report to the principal’s office.”

“But…but I wasn’t cheating! I swear. I was, um, just stretching.”

Could I sound anymore lame?

“Stretching over Mr. Lancaster’s test?” Mrs. Brooks snarks.

My classmates snicker.

“It was a mistake. Not what you think,” I say quickly, then hang my head, studying my metallic blue nail polish.

Mrs. Brooks hands me the note. “You can explain it to the principal.”

“Fine. Whatever,” I mumble.

That movie-is-about-to-start type silence claims the room. Bending, I retrieve my backpack and velvet purse from the floor. I rush out onto the corridor as if my butt’s on fire without looking back.

When I reach the office, I clear my throat and one of the secretaries glances up. I put the note on the counter. “I’m here to see Principal Allen.”

Lisa Morris, the smiley secretary, tells me to have a seat and takes the note.

While waiting to meet my doom—because that’s what it feels like—I take out my Hello Kitty notebook. Hayden is obviously intelligent. Maybe he finished that test so quickly because he’s some kind of freakin’ scientific prodigy. He did say he wanted to study aerospace engineering or astrophysics.

I scribble in my notes:
Super smart. Takes an hour-long calculus test in minutes.
Check. Then I quickly add,
Most redeeming quality: He stands up to bullies.
Check.

Today might be a good day to visit a graveyard. Especially, since I just committed social suicide. Maybe I’ll even ditch sixth period and hang at Shadowland Memorial, so I can think. Or get some really greasy junk food while I contemplate the Hayden situation, and plot Devin’s ultimate demise.

The perpetual tick of the wall clock keeps me company as I anxiously wait. Even though this majorly sucks, my thoughts drift to Hayden and vivid daydreams surface. Stuff like kissing and touching and doing all kinds of naughty things with someone like him. He’s so mysterious and beautiful. His lips full and inviting. But I have to stop thinking about
him
in that way. He’s just a story—nothing more. Shaking my head, I banish the fantasies.