Dark Hope (9 page)

“Nothing I can’t handle, Lucas,” Michael said smoothly. I noticed he had placed a protective arm across me. I was suddenly aware of just how tiny I was next to him. His skin felt strangely warm.

“Hmmm. I must have been mistaken, then. You just seem like maybe you need a little
getaway
, you know, to take care of some business.” He dripped the words from his mouth, as if he was trying to insinuate something. “What about you, Hope? Cat got your tongue?”

I stared at the boy. Suddenly, my mouth felt like it was full of sawdust. I gulped nervously, my hand unconsciously drifting to my neck to cover my Mark before I answered.

“How do you know my name?”

He laughed with a cold and detached sort of amusement. “It’s a public school, Hope. Everybody knows everything. We know all about you.”

A feeling of dread washed over me. Did they? My body felt hot and sweaty, but I resisted the urge to reach up and wipe my brow, not wanting them to see how nervous they were making me.

Michael scoffed, his blue eyes flashing with anger. “Leave us alone, Lucas. There’s nothing to know and nothing to do.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lucas purred. His dark eyes shimmered with barely contained excitement. “You know me. I always seem to find some sort of trouble to make.”

“Make it somewhere else,” Michael retorted, grabbing my wrist roughly as he slammed his locker shut. “Come on, Hope, let’s go.”

He charged through the crowd of boys, pulling me in his wake. They barely seemed to give way; I was painfully aware of the press of their bodies as we cut through.

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until we were already out on the sidewalk.

“How do you know him?” I asked in a shaky voice, struggling to keep up with Michael.

“I don’t,” he said curtly, staring straight ahead and continuing to drag me along relentlessly.

“But he made it sound like—”

“Hope, I told you before, just leave it alone!” His voice had an edge to it that was a clear warning. I swallowed my questions and followed meekly as he led me toward the buses.

“Michael, we’re going the wrong way; your car—”

He drew up short. I stumbled right into him, spilling my book bag out onto the sidewalk. He threw down my arm, bent over, and furiously began to shove things back into the bag.

“You’re taking the bus today,” he said without looking at me.

I rubbed the spot where he had gripped my wrist; it already ached. “But, Michael, why are you—”

“Hope, I can’t babysit you every minute!” he practically yelled at me as he stood up. Out of the corner of my eye, groups of students came to a standstill to watch. “I have stuff to do. Here, take your bag.” He shoved it roughly at me. “Now get on your bus,” he said, pushing me toward the narrow door.

And before I could say anything, he stalked off toward the student parking lot.

I stood frozen, painfully aware of the whispers and stares. Slowly, I turned toward the bus and climbed the first few steps. As I did, I heard someone calling after me in a mocking tone.

“Have a nice weekend, Hope!”

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the bus doors close on Lucas, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

Back in my room, I threw myself on my bed, alternating between burying my face in and then punching the heap of pillows piled at the headboard.

I ran through my memories of the last few weeks and could find nothing,
nothing
that I had done that could have even remotely set off a reasonable human being.

I sat bolt upright in my bed.

How dare he treat you like that?
said the voice inside my head.

Seriously, who did he think he was, all Mr. Nice and then
wham
! Dropping me like a bad smell just because he was in a pissy mood?

I kicked my sneakers off and let them fly across the room. They landed with a satisfying
thump!
against my closet door.

And how could he have lied to me that he didn’t know Lucas? Clearly, the two had a history. But how could they have when Michael was new to the school, too? Why couldn’t he just tell me the truth?

“Aarrgh!” I yelled in frustration, falling back on my bed.

I heard a soft knock at my door.

“Hope, may I come in?”

I groaned and rolled over. I had forgotten that my mom was already home. Consultant hours were unpredictable. Sometimes, like today, she’d show up in the middle of the day. I’d managed to get by her without too much conversation when I got off the bus, but apparently her Mom Radar was on alert.

“Sure, Mom,” I answered, straightening out the bedcovers and fluffing the pillows.

She slid in through the door, a look of mild alarm spreading across her face as she scanned for damage. “Is everything okay? It sounded like you fell.”

“Just me throwing my shoes, Mom. Sorry about that.”

She frowned slightly and tilted her head, her eyebrows forming a distinct question mark.

I sighed. I’d already learned that she was hard to hide things from. I chalked it up to her MBA and consultant training.

“Michael was just being a jerk today, that’s all.”

I watched her carefully choose her words as she sat down on the bed and plucked at some imaginary lint. “Michael, that new boy with whom you’ve become friends?”

“Yes, though the way he’s been acting this week you’d think I’d set his pet bunnies on fire or something. He’s been so moody, Mom! And he won’t tell me what I did. It’s so unfair.”

“What makes you think it’s something you did?” Mom asked me, looking me straight in the eye. “Did you do something wrong, Hope?”

“No!” I protested, clutching one of the pillows tight to my chest. “I’ve racked my brain, Mom. All I can think of—”

I stopped, not even wanting to say it out loud.

“Go on,” Mom urged.

“… is that he’s tired of me. I mean, who am I, right? Just some hick girl from Alabama. He’s probably gotten bored of me.”

My body sagged, my head drooping to my chest as I thought about this possibility. It seemed to be the only thing that made sense.

Mom gently lifted my chin so she could look me in the eye. “Hope, did Michael try to avoid you? Did he move his seat in class, or try to eat with someone else at lunch?”

“No,” I admitted grudgingly.

“Have you gotten too clingy, maybe thinking of him as more than a friend?”

“No!” I protested, my cheeks burning. “It’s not like that, Mom! We’re just friends.”

I saw her lips twitch.

“It’s not funny!” I shouted, burying my face in another pillow.

“Oh, Hope, honey, I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It just seems to me that you are awfully unfamiliar with teenage boys. They go through their moods and then some, just like the rest of us do. And if I understand the situation as you’ve described it, he might have an awful lot of pressure on him, having to fend for himself. From what you say, it doesn’t seem to me like he is trying to end your friendship. Whatever it is, he’ll get over it. Just give him his space. You’ll see; when Monday rolls around, I bet everything will be back to normal.”

I sat up again, looking at her skeptically.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But why’d he have to be so mean, Mom? It makes me so
angry
!”

“I don’t know, Hopie,” she said, using her old nickname for me while she smoothed out my hair. “But when I get angry I like to take it out on my rowing machine.” She glanced across my room to the treadmill she’d bought, sitting forlorn and forgotten in the corner, strewn with rejected clothing. “You haven’t even touched your treadmill. It’s been weeks,” she noted in a neutral tone.

I felt my chin rise defensively. “I’ve been busy.”

She skewered me with one of her looks again. “Hope, I know you love to run. Is there something about this treadmill you don’t like? It still has the tags dangling from it. I could return it if you aren’t going to use it.”

I fought against myself but couldn’t keep from blurting my response. “It’s just, just … the only reason I ran on a treadmill is Dad wouldn’t let me run outside. Ever.”

The air was still as she considered this new information, her face a carefully composed mask.

“What do you mean?”

I didn’t want to add to my father’s long list of apparent parenting failures, but there was no way I could get out of this one.

“He thought it was too dangerous for me to be alone. So I couldn’t even walk myself to school, let alone go outside for a run.”

For a split second I saw beneath her composed veneer, saw the shock and anger she felt toward my dad. But just as quickly, it was gone. I knew then that I could never tell her about the Cupid-Gram Dad had sent me—she would seriously lose it. So I stayed silent until she stood up, brushed off her slacks, and moved quietly to the door. She made one parting shot as she left me to brood in my room.

“Well, nothing’s stopping you now.”

I stretched out on the front steps, eyeing the little cul-de-sac with a bit of trepidation. Of course, my mother was right. It was unfortunate that Dad had kept me under lock and key. But that was all over now, and I hadn’t even taken advantage of the fact.

“No time like the present,” I muttered to myself, starting up my favorite running mix on my iPod as I left the steps.

A thousand little things underscored how different it was to be outside instead of tied to a machine. The feel of pavement, unforgiving beneath my feet. The sharp air that prickled, icy, as I breathed it in. The drop in temperature when I came under the shade of a stand of tall pines. The wind slicing through my fleece.

At first, with every step I imagined I was squashing Michael’s face with my foot. But eventually I gave myself to the music, my footfalls synching with the rhythm. Slowly, my stress melted away as I focused on my breathing. By the time I turned the corner off the main loop, I was singing along with my iPod at full voice, doing little hand jive moves when the spirit took me, as if the road was my own private stage.

I had never felt so free.

I suppose I looked funny to any neighbors who happened to look out their window. But I didn’t care. I was running, really running, without some stupid program on a machine to tell me how fast or how long to run.

I kept running past the familiar streets and into others I’d never been on. They all looked comfortingly the same. What was that phrase Mom had used once? Safe as houses. Everybody here is safe as houses.

But no sooner had I thought this than I began to get a funny feeling that I was not alone.

I slowed down to a trot to look over my shoulder, but I could see nothing.

Unsettled, I started running again, darting a backwards glance every few yards. The safe little neighborhood suddenly felt threatening, the dark windows in the empty houses glaring at me like angry eyes. I picked up the pace.

I had made it back to the main loop, and now the sun was hanging low in the February sky.
Only a little ways left to go
, I thought to
myself, trying to forget that the last bit went through an unfinished part of the neighborhood that had been left open as a preserve.

My unease deepened as I strode forward. The road was curvy here, swallowed at every bend by spindly pines that swayed in the stiff wind. My pace became more cautious. It was starting to hurt to breathe in the cold air, and my side was aching. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to get home and out of this cold, but my body was not cooperating. I dragged myself over to the curb and bent over, wheezing while I tried to work the knot out of my side.

Everything around me was silent. I couldn’t even hear any approaching cars. Everyone else seemed tucked away inside their warm houses. I was alone, in the woods.

But I still felt that I wasn’t quite alone. The feeling grew stronger and stronger, and even as I regained my breath, I could feel my heart thumping faster and faster.

Don’t look up
, the little voice in my head whispered.

And suddenly there was a rush of a thousand wings all about me. I grabbed my head, covering my ears against the shrieking and cawing that seemed everywhere. All I could see was a wall of black—I was spinning and turning, and everywhere black shapes darted in and out until I lost my balance and fell against the curb.