The Locket (5 page)

Muddling through the next few classes, I tried to stay focused, attempting to think about anything other than the boy with the piercing blue eyes. Brent looked at me like he could see all the way to my soul and I liked it. I really liked it.

The occasional whispers and gaping stares were not quite as bad as this morning’s small flood in chemistry and it was time for lunch.

After a small trek to the cafeteria, I realized I dreaded lunch the most on a first day. It was terrifying having to choose a table, not knowing anyone, and listening to those brave enough to verbalize their thoughts. “I hope she doesn’t sit here.”

My backpack held the contents of my lunch as the paper bag was now a small pile of mush in the chemistry trash can. Spotting a somewhat empty table in back, I took a seat, retrieving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich along with an apple from my bag, as well as a book I had been reading. I opened the book and began flipping through the pages.

“Hey Blake!” I didn’t even have to look as I recognized from behind, the familiar voice of Brent.

Turning to him, I was instantly aware of the heightened charge in the air between us. The butterflies from earlier returned, and my stomach was performing somersaults. What was it about this boy?

Seeing how truly good looking Brent was, my cheeks flushed. He was muscular and tanned from the long New England summer, and his locks looked more chestnut-colored indoors.

“Is this seat taken?” he questioned, motioning towards the empty seat next to me.

“Sure,” I gushed, waving to the same seat, biting back a smile.

Thank you, God!

“Sure it is taken or sure I can sit?” he asked, a smart-aleck smile forming over his face.

“Uh, no, I mean yes. Umm, sit please.”

Breathe, Claire.

“So, how was chemistry? You do any experiments with water and bottles?” he asked jokingly, his teasing smile carving even deeper.

Sitting down next to me, he pulled a bottle of flavored water and a sandwich from his bag lunch.

“Oh good, you heard. Great, yes, I tried to flood the chemistry class,” I exaggerated, hanging my head, drowning in embarrassment.

He smiled and laughed a very boyish, familiar laugh.

“Well, Blake, it seems you are the talk of the school today,” he joshed, poking fun at my humility.

“Greeeaaat,” I whined, turning my head to pout. Setting my book down, I picked up the apple, taking a bite before looking back at him.

“So what brings your family back to Northfield?” he inquired, thankfully changing the subject.

“Oh,… just me,… I mean, not my family. My parents passed away over the summer.” I muttered, hoping he would move on quickly. The wound of my parent’s death was still fresh. I wasn’t quite ready to remove the band aid and talk about it, especially with a boy I just met.

“Oh, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No, really, you didn’t,” I apologized. “It’s still hard for me to talk about it. I moved back to live with my aunt. What about you? How long have you been in Northfield?”

“I just got back this summer also, but my family moved here about fifteen years ago.”

“Oh. So you’re somewhat of a newbie, too, then. Where have you been?” I asked curiously.

“Boarding school…mostly. My parents thought I was getting into trouble a few years ago, so they shipped me off,” he replied.

“Oh, I see. Rebel child, huh?” I joked, picturing him a few years younger, hanging out causing a little ruckus in town. He had that bad boy vibe. The term sounded so cliché and I blushed, praying he didn’t notice my expression.

His crooked grin told me he did.

“Not really. Just made the wrong friends, I guess. Anyway, I wanted to come home for my senior year so they let me.” Brent checked my gaze to see if I thought less of him. “So, what about you, Blake? What do you like to do for fun?” he asked, before twisting the lid off his water and taking a sip.

Here we go. The questions were getting personal and I didn’t get personal. Wanting to crawl away, I thought to myself,
Keep it simple,
Blake
.

“Well, I play guitar and I read a lot,” I offered tentatively.

“Really, a musician huh, and here I thought you were all brains,” he said flirtatiously, causing my insides to flip. Unwavering attraction between us was palpable, and I wondered if he felt it too.

“Well, you can call it that, but mostly I play just to lose myself. My dad taught me to play and it’s given me a great outlet.” I said, slapping myself on the inside. I took another bite of my apple.

“Outlet?” Great, you don’t sound like a freak or anything.

“I think that’s cool, Blake,” he approved, with a reassuring,
you’re not a
freak
,
s
mile.

“What about you Brent? What’s your outlet?”

“I draw,” he answered softly. The way he said it had me wanting to melt. “And I read, too,” he added.

Weakening immediately, I let out a heavy sigh. Of course he did – sexy, artistic and totally my type – which scared the hell out of me. I pictured him lying outdoors, head propped up on a tree with his knees bent, his sketch book resting against them. There was a pond nearby and he was tracing the outline of it. No, maybe he was drawing me. That made my heart drop suddenly, the pit of my stomach feeling the weight of it. Seriously, what was wrong with me? The desire to bail coursed through me because the conversation was getting friendlier than I was prepared for.

“I should go. I have a few things to get from my locker before my next class,” I announced frantically, wanting to escape the innervation.

“Ok, sure Blake, but you have about fifteen minutes until the bell,” he noted with a hint of confusion in his voice. I was sure he saw right through me.

“Yes, well, I would not want a full class for my next embarrassing stunt,” I kidded, praying he wouldn’t notice I was trying my hardest to ditch him.

Brent laughed. “Yes Blake, do make sure the lid on your water bottle is tight.”

God, even the way he calls me Blake is galvanizing. I have got to get out of here.

I turned quickly, bolting for the exit, dropping my apple and un-eaten sandwich into the trash bin on the way by. I was about through the cafeteria doors when I heard his voice again.

“Hey Blake, you forget something.”

Turning to see his blue eyes and charming smile holding my book out, walking towards me, my knees nearly buckled. I walked back, reaching to accept my book from him. There it was again. The pull of undeniable attraction between us returned. He had to feel it too, but his expression was unreadable.

“Thanks,” I said shyly, pulling the book from his hand.

“
A Room With a View,
huh?” I wasn’t quite sure if it was a statement or a question.

Judging from his smile and waiting gaze I assumed it was meant to be a question. “One of my favorites,” I professed proudly.

“Interesting,” he added. “But it’s rather sad.”

Okay, I was intrigued. “Really?…Falling in love when you least expect it and living happily ever after is sad to you?” I chided. Given that it was one of my favorite reads, his not liking it could be a deal breaker. I couldn’t possibly go out with a guy that didn’t like this book.

Slow this train down, Cinderella!

“Forgoing the importance of everything else for love is the sad part,” he responded. “There was a heavy price to pay for their love, but I guess one can’t have everything.”

“I think their love for each other saved both of them, so in the end they did have everything,” I lectured, mentally patting myself on the back for responding so confidently.

“Maybe…But then again, there is more at stake than a happy ending,” he disputed.

What?

I wanted to tell him all the reasons his perception was wrong, but I wanted to escape the sensual feeling traveling through my body more than I wanted to argue.

“I really have to get going, but I think you should read the story again,” I suggested, unable to stop myself from throwing in one last comment.

“I might,” he grumbled. “And you might consider the main characters path was by design. Lucy was supposed to be with her fiancé. By choosing George, she changed the order of things.”

What in the world?

I almost laughed. “Lucy chose her own path. She chose to live free with the man she loved.” Kudos to me, I thought, for knowing this book far too well for anyone to debate me about its meaning.

He arched a brow and the corner of his lips curved slightly as he countered. “Yes, she did Claire. All I am saying is maybe the choice was not hers to make.”

Now, I laughed. “Whose choice was it then?” I challenged, playing along.

“Not hers,” Brent insisted. “She had a purpose in life and by design she should have stayed with her fiancé to complete that purpose.”

“Soooo,…Lucy was supposed to ignore her passion for George because there was an off chance she had some purpose to complete, and she would fail if she didn’t?” I asked skeptically, shaking my head at the ridiculous notion.

His was chewing nervously on his bottom lip and he cocked his head slightly before answering.

“Look, all I’m saying is that maybe we’re sent here with a predetermined course that we’re not supposed to veer from. Like, we have certain guidelines, call them rules if you will – things that are predetermined and beyond our control, designed specifically for each of us. Perhaps our souls are already assigned to someone, and if we choose otherwise, we screw it all up,” he laughed nervously.

Are we still talking about George and Lucy?

“Then,… you are suggesting Lucy should have ignored her feelings for George because some force in the universe said she was supposed to be with her fiancé?” I clarified, finding the whole discussion puzzling.

“Something like that,” he replied smugly.

“Wow…that’s pretty deep, Cassidy,” I teased, nearly cackling.

His brow creased tight, his stare making me want to look away. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he revealed, almost whispering. “It’s not right.”

Could he be anymore cryptic?

“What does that mean?” I asked. Though I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted to know the answer. The conversation had become far too philosophical for the lunch room.

Judging by his expression, he must have felt the same way. “It’s nothing,” he replied.

“Okay, whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes.

The truth of the matter was I often considered the very things he was suggesting. Did we have soul mates? It was conceivable we were not in control of our destiny and in some way our fate had been decided long before we were born. Was it feasible a path had been designed for each of us and a higher power steered us down that path somehow?

“Just something to consider,” Brent added, winking at me.

“I’ll do that,” I smiled, turning away from him, marching through the exit as fast as my feet would move, praying that I didn’t trip.

“See you later then,” I heard him exclaim through the garrulous voices filling the halls.

Opening my locker, I felt as though I was suffocating. What was wrong with me? What was with that conversation about people being designed to be together? Was he suggesting we were designed to be together? More likely, he was poetically letting me know he was designed to be with someone else so I wouldn’t get the wrong idea about his friendly behavior.

Wow, you really are losing it.

I was, and I really needed to get it together. It was just a boy – an incredibly hot sexy boy that for some reason kept talking to me, but still just a boy. I couldn’t keep feeling this way. My aunt was as obsessive as my parents were, when it came to my safety. I was sure she wouldn’t hesitate to whisk me away, and hold me under lock and key if she felt I was in danger. So, no more crazy thoughts about Brent, I resigned. He was one boy where a goodbye might not be possible.

I smiled, closing my locker and thinking to myself.
Today is definitely going to be different.

Checking my schedule, I saw art was my next class. Music was full by the time I got around to registering, so I decided to give art a try although most of my artistic attempts looked like an elementary school effort. Not stick figures, but not actually recognizable either. Entering the classroom, I found an empty table and sat down. I hoped being the odd, new girl, no one would sit next to me and I could be alone with my thoughts. My hopes went ignored as a preppy, vivacious girl bounced over, smiling sweetly, and took a seat next to me.

Her waist length hair was really blonde, like spun gold. She had large green-blue eyes that had an intriguing hint of yellow around her dark pupils. She was beautiful, appearing much too vogue to be a high school student. Her clothing was designer, appearing to be purchased from a boutique, not off the rack at a typical mall store. She smiled a warm friendly smile as she sat and said, “Hello, I’m Layken.” Without hesitation, she blew a giant bubble from a wad of gum she was chewing excitedly, snapping it back as quickly as it came out.

“You’re Claire, right?” she asked, holding her hand out to mine.

“Yep, that’s me,” I managed, accepting her hand, offering a limp fish handshake.

My dad would be sorely disappointed.
People will judge you when you shake hands so it’s best to look them in the eye and have a nice firm grip.
I found myself hoping for the second time today that he was not watching.

Unlike me, Layken was fashionable. Jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers were my preferred choice of clothing. I would bet Layken only chose sneakers for gym class. Physically, we couldn’t be more opposite. She was at least six inches taller than me and all legs. With curves in all the right places, Layken looked like the girls on the cover of the Victoria’s Secret Catalog, whereas I was more suited for the cover of LL Bean kids.

Layken asked how I liked it here so far as she twisted each finger in her opposing hand, cracking her knuckles. I explained things were just fine, sharing I had lived here as a child, but moved back over the summer. She listened as though she was actually interested, catching me by surprise. Something about her set me immediately at ease. I felt so comfortable with her and the more she spoke, the more relaxed I felt. Layken waved to everyone who entered and exuded so much confidence. Given how insecure I always I was, I really envied her sureness.