The Ylem (8 page)
“Hey, is there something wrong?” Dean asked
me suddenly.
“Yes
,
” I retorted.
Everybody stared at me, surprised and
confused at my sharp attitude, wondering what was wrong with
me.
At least
I
was asking myself the same
question.
Seeming to not want to enter shaky grounds,
everybody let it pass and headed to their classrooms in silence at
the end of the break. My embarrassment and guilt never faded away,
though. It pounded through me so powerfully I couldn’t even speak
to Valerie and Owen. I knew I didn’t have a reason to talk to Dean
like that, but I hadn’t done it on purpose. It’d just come out
without even asking for permission. And now, for not keeping my
emotions under control, I had to talk to Dean and ask him to
forgive me. And there was nothing more uncomfortable and awkward
than doing that.
“Valerie? Owen?” I said once we stepped
outside the classroom at the end of the day. They stopped walking
and looked at me. “I'm…I don’t know what happened. I'm usually not
like that. It’s just that Chloe was glaring at me like she was
about to jump up and break into a catfight and, I don’t know, it
made me feel uncomfortable.” I continued in a rush. “Besides, Dean
sees me as a friend. She doesn’t need to shoot ice balls at me like
that.”
They looked at each other, as if having a
private conversation with their eyes.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Nothing. Just don’t give yourself too much
pain. Anyone would’ve reacted like that,” Valerie said.
“Not me.” Owen sneered.
Valerie poked him on the arm.
“Ouch! She knows I'm joking!” He slid away
from her. “You know, one day the police are going to knock on your
door with a restraining order or something.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“For all the bruises you’re giving me,
woman.”
She rolled her eyes. I chuckled, I couldn’t
help myself. “Of
all
the bruises you can have, mine are
certainly the most
harmful
.”
Owen ignored her. “Well…anyway…you’re
forgiven City Girl.”
“Thanks for the mercy.” I smiled.
Students were slamming their lockers and
rushing through the hallway. Like them, I couldn’t wait to get home
and be done for the day. But unlike them, I was far from being
done. I still had to talk to Dean.
Getting outside wasn’t so appealing
anymore.
“I think somebody is waiting for you,”
Valerie said in a singsong tone when we stopped at the top of the
stairs.
I spun and saw Dean crossing the lawn toward
me, his face troubled. “We’ll leave you alone.” She lowered her
voice. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you, City Girl!” Owen called out, and
then whispered in my ear, “Good luck.”
They waved goodbye to Dean on their way.
How did I end up in this situation? I could
feel a big knot in my throat now. Dean stopped at the foot of the
stairs and looked up at me, hands stuffed into the pockets of his
jacket. “I need to talk to you. Do you have time?” he asked.
“Sure, I still need to wait for my dad.” I
said, smiling nervously.
“Good.” He said, dropping his head. “I just
want to know if…if I'm bothering you or something, because if I
do—” He pulled up his head again to look at me, “—Just tell me and
I’ll back down.”
“Dean,” I said, stepping down the stairs to
face him. “You’re great. I'm really sorry I snapped at you like
that. I feel terrible because of it, and you must think I'm a
hideous person but—”
“You’re wrong,” he interrupted. “I don’t
think you’re hideous at all.”
“You don’t? Because you should, I mean, I
have no excuse. But I'm not like that. I don’t know what happened.
I just…the thing is that…”
“Tell me,” he said, stepping closer.
Telling him wasn’t the problem. His reaction
was. I didn’t want him to be mad at Chloe and make things worse.
She was just in love with him, and it was normal to react like
that, I suppose.
“Well, it’s just that…” Thumping sounds
stopped me. I looked up and the words clogged my throat. Chloe was
pounding down the stairs and glowering at me. As always, perfect
timing.
“Bye Dean!” she screeched, passing by me
with her head high and swaying her hips like a temptress. One of
her sways bumped against me and I staggered a little.
“You were saying?” Dean said, ignoring
her.
“Um…she’s your ex, right?” I whispered,
steadying myself as I gulped nervously.
“Yeah, but don’t mind her.”
I wasn't so sure about that.
He smiled, as if he'd read my face. “Look, I
think I know where this is going. You don’t need to worry about
her. I can see you’re the type of person who worries about other’s
feelings, and it’s nice, yeah, but you can’t walk in life worrying
all the time about others. It gets to a point where you don’t enjoy
your
life anymore, don’t you think?”
It kind of made sense. “I guess.”
“Good. So…we’re still on for the
weekend?”
“Which day exactly?”
“Saturday.”
At least I would have Sunday free. And this
wasn’t a date. “Okay.”
“Cool,” he said, smiling. “I can’t wait.” He
turned and I watched him walk away as he disappeared into a cluster
of cars. An orange beam caught my eye amid the sea of metal and my
heart leaped. I spotted Tristan's speedy-wheel-machine between a
huge black truck and a blue SUV (the most popular car around here).
I couldn’t see him, though. He was definitely in school, but not
outside. None of his friends were around either.
Feeling reassured, I sat down on the
neatly-cropped grass and fished out
As you like it
from my
tote. But I never got to read any pages.
“Great story, isn’t it?” said the voice I’d
been fearing to hear. My heart jumped. I hadn’t expected him to
come and talk to me. Of all the infinite situations I’d imagined
since spotting his car, this one had escaped me.
I closed my book and turned to look up at
him. He was smiling at me. “Hi.” I’d been half-reclined and I
pushed myself up. “Um, yeah, it’s a great story,” I said, glancing
at the book.
“But not my favorite one.” He gave a soft
shake of his head.
I smiled. He liked Shakespeare. “Same for
me,” I said, dropping my eyes to the grass.
“How are you feeling after that fierce
attack on Friday?” he asked, amused.
He totally thought I was stupid. “Oh, um, I
wanted to thank you for that.” My face began to blaze. “I left
without saying thank you. So—” I forced my eyes to look back at his
“—thank you…very much.”
His beautiful lips formed a breathtaking
smile. “Don’t worry. That was nothing.”
“Nothing? If it wasn’t because of you I
would be lying on a hideous hospital bed right now—or in some
dreary coffin under layers and layers of dirt.”
He laughed, the sweet sound caressing my
ears. “Well, I'm glad I helped you, then.”
“Yeah…I'm glad, too,” I admitted, dropping
my eyes again.
“It happens that I tend to be a lifesaver
from time to time,” he said, taking his smile into the edge of
sexy. “And I'm sorry to say that jackets don’t make the cut, just
humans.”
“Oh…” My brain wasn’t working. I couldn’t
think of anything clever to say. “Lucky…me then…”
“You can say that.” He had the most
beautiful eyelashes. “But don’t play with your luck so much.”
“No…I…um…” I took in a gulp of air. “It’s
going to be really difficult to go near a wolf-thing from now on. I
don’t want to face death again.”
His sexy smile faded and his lips flattened
into a straight line. Had I said something wrong? He stared at me,
his eyes displaying an intensity so deep it could’ve melted metal.
Something in them showed frustration and disappointment, colliding
with the peacefulness of his heavenly gray ocean-colored eyes. And
I couldn’t understand why, but I was unexpectedly overtaken by the
most piercing sadness I’d ever felt. My chest hurt as if a deep
iron ball was pressing my lungs. My nose warmed and my eyes got
cloudy with tears.
I turned my head away, unlocking my eyes
from his. I sensed a tear sliding down on my cheek, escaping my
eyelids and turning cold. Why in the world was I crying? Did I even
have a reason? I felt completely lost, confused
and…embarrassed.
I wiped the frosty tear with the back of my
hand, wishing he hadn’t notice my bizarre reaction, and pulled my
tote from the grass. The odd pain in my chest began to fade. I
shoved the book inside and placed the strap over my shoulder.
I was now facing him again. “Um…” My mind
was blank. “Nice weather, huh?” I said, keeping my eyes away from
his. It was a really pathetic thing to say, but I couldn’t think of
anything better.
“Yes,” he said with a troubled voice, almost
talking to himself.
Curiosity got the best out of me and pushed
me to look back at him. He was looking down; his hands stuffed into
his jeans pockets. His dark eyebrows, slightly covered by some
strands of his hair, were pulled together, as if he was pondering
something. But what?
Maybe he’d regretted coming to me...
Something caught his attention and made him
turn around. I followed and spotted his two friends coming down the
stairs toward us. I noticed how tall they were, an inch taller than
Tristan maybe. But he wasn’t looking at them. Chloe was standing a
few feet away from his friends, arms crossed around her chest. She
locked her arctic eyes with Tristan for a moment, and several
silent messages passed between them, none of them nice. Her eyes
tightened sharply. She turned to look at Tristan’s friends, who
wore anxious looks, told them something with her cutting eyes, too,
and strode away, shooting me a killer glare on the way.
I frowned. What the hell had just
happened?
Wait a second
. I suddenly realized
something even weirder. How did Tristan know all of them were
there? He was giving them his back and we were several feet away
and as far as I knew, they’d been silent.
Tristan turned to look at me and cleared his
throat. “Um, let me introduce you to my friends,” he said with a
stifled voice. Next thing I knew, they were standing next to him.
“Elan and Mingan.”
It was as if I was facing a big human wall,
a sturdy human wall. Tristan’s friends were more muscular than him,
but not in the Rambo-burly-type way. Only pure lean muscle
displaying sexy strength. I clutched my tote nervously. The one
with the cool Mohawk took a step forward and stretched his wide
hand toward me. “Finally,” he said eagerly, shaking his warm hand
with my icy one. “I'm Elan.” He smiled.
“Hi,” I said, smiling back. He was friendly,
full of energy. His smile a warm, bright sun that matched the light
autumn color in his eyes.
“This is my twin brother, Mingan,” Elan
continued, pointing at the guy with the pony tail.
I hadn’t been wrong. They were family—and
twins! Though they weren’t exact copies of each other, their
physical features were definitely similar.
Mingan nodded in response, reminding me of a
soldier saluting. I didn’t care for his cold manner; it kind of
suited him. But the hostility in his eyes when he looked at me, as
if I was an enemy he wanted to wipe out, did bother me.
I gulped.
“So how’s it been so far?” Elan asked with a
grin.
“Pretty good.” I said, trying to ignore
Mingan’s hard eyes. “I still haven’t seen too much. I’ve just been
to the supermarket and”—I peeked at Tristan—“Julian’s gallery.”
Tristan wasn’t looking at me. His face looked troubled and sad.
Why? Maybe I was reading him wrongly. Maybe he was mad. Because of
Chloe?
“Pretty cool, huh? He has a lot of artsy
stuff there,” Elan said.
“Yeah,” I agreed with a gulp, sensing
Mingan’s heavy stare on me again. He was studying every word I said
and every move I made.
“Well, you need to sightsee more,” Elan
continued with his bright smile still on.
“I'm going out on Saturday.”
“On your own?” he asked.
“Um, no, not on my own.” I blushed. I didn’t
want to say I was going out with Dean—especially not in front of
Tristan. Why? I didn’t know. The idea was ridiculous.
“If you want to you can—” Elan trailed off,
looking like he was paying attention to something else in his mind,
or more exactly, listening to something else. He cocked his head,
eyes lost, and looked back at me. “I mean, you
should
go
with someone from here—a local,” he continued awkwardly.
I looked at Tristan and Mingan, trying to
figure out Elan’s sudden change. They were staring at him, as if
restraining him with their eyes. But restraining him from what? I
hated all this guessing and weirdness.
“Actually, I'm going with a local.” I told
him, suddenly feeling the urge to say it. “Dean. Maybe you know
him.” I glanced at Tristan.
His eyes met mine, locking them for a long,
hot-blooded moment. My stomach clenched and unclenched, sending
tingles all the way to my toes.
“We have to go,” Tristan said in a flat tone
seconds later, not taking his eyes from mine. He stared at me for a
few more heartbeats, then turned and said to them, “We should’ve
left minutes ago.” And then he left, just like that.
“Let’s go,” Mingan ordered Elan and followed
Tristan.
Elan gave me a small smile, as if
apologizing, and turned away to join them. The twins’ black truck
speeded behind Tristan’s cool orange car a few seconds later.
Standing there alone, I couldn’t shake off
my confusion. What the hell had happened? There was no reason for
him to leave like that and drag the others along. I hadn’t done
anything to trigger that sadness or madness, or whatever it was.
Anything. So what was his problem? Had it been Chloe with that
sharp stare of hers?