Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series (24 page)

Before he even had time to scold them for
invading the privacy of his room, Rowan spoke up, a cunning glint
in her eyes.

“You sure stayed out late.” She smirked as
she moved his pillow back to its proper place.

Now more aggravated than ever, he didn’t even
acknowledge her statement, nor did he care to be polite. “What are
you still doing here, Rowan? Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

She smiled. “Mel invited me over to spend the
night. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Not really,” replied Ian crossly.
“Especially since you’ve invaded my room.”

“Ah, you’re awfully grumpy tonight,” Rowan
said, her face beaming with amusement. “I think you should wear
your princess gown again …. I’m sure it’d cheer you up.”

Ian gave her an icy glare, feeling none of
her cheerful spirit. “That’s enough. I’m too tired to talk right
now.” He paused, before giving Melinda an evil frown. “Both of you
need to leave … pronto.”

At his sharp command, both of the girls
scampered off the bed and out of the room, Rowan turning back and
giving him a parting word before she closed the door behind her.
“See you at breakfast, Ian.”

Locking the door with a fiery zeal he hadn’t
known for a long time, Ian then collapsed onto the spring mattress
bed, his emotions seizing control of him.

In all honesty, he was frightened by his
anger towards Rowan and Melinda. Sure, they’d entered his room
without his permission, disheveled the sheets on his bed, and left
two pink Barbie dolls on his nightstand, but still, he’d dealt with
worse from them before and hadn’t gotten half this mad. Besides,
he’d promised himself just yesterday that he’d be nicer to his
sister. How quickly he was failing this resolution.

Face buried into his pillow, he kicked off
his shoes, as his thoughts turned down an even darker path. He felt
the ice on his hands again, heard the blowing wind, and felt the
air slowly being sucked out of his lungs. If it weren’t for
William, he might be dead. Curling his fingers, he rolled out of
bed, and stepped into his private bathroom.

Nothing seemed the same; nothing seemed real.
And the worst part was he couldn’t tell anyone, because they
wouldn’t believe him … and who could blame them? If Eddy had told
him two nights ago that he’d been taken to another planet, he would
have laughed him to shame. No, there was nothing for him to do but
to just suffer alone.

Completing his nightly routine with
weariness, he left the bathroom, pulled off his socks, and flung
himself onto his bed. Just what was his life becoming? He’d
previously thought this experience in the other world was a
one-time occurrence, and that his life would return to normal, but
now just the opposite seemed true. Was this going to become a daily
routine whenever a storm hit?

Reaching over, he turned off the lamp on his
nightstand, the full moon shining through the glass dome ceiling
above him, casting shadows throughout his room. He saw a multitude
of stars sparkling at him, as if beckoning him closer. Yet this
brought him no comfort, only fear, uncertainty, and the feeling of
falling, falling into nothingness, blackness.

Rolling onto his side to avoid the eerie
stars, he shut his eyes. Moments later, being very tired, sleep
grabbed him and dragged him to its lair. Once he was in its domain,
a vast array of nightmares awaited him. When he wasn’t tossing and
turning, trying to convince himself that the shadows lining the
walls weren’t alive, or sitting on his bed with all the lights on,
imagining the Barbie dolls on his lampstand were staring at him, he
was dreaming of polar bears, deep crevasses, and the wizard Saruman
along with his partner Sandler, torturing him with ice spells and
terrorizing him with ghastly threats. It was a night not soon to be
forgotten.

Waking up on Wednesday to the gnat-like buzz
of his alarm, Ian stretched out his arm, banged on the clock once
with his fist, rolled out of bed, took a warm extended shower,
dried himself off, and changed into his school clothes. Once he’d
slipped his cell phone, a packet of spearmint gum (as he had a
different flavor for each day of the week), and his new leather
wallet into his jeans, he traipsed downstairs into the kitchen, his
eyes, a portal for zombies to peer through, his shoulders, drooping
under the weight of two invisible goblins, and his hands, as limp
as a manikin's.

As he emerged into the kitchen at a
slumbering giant pace, a particularly vivid dream of Kenn locking
him up in a creepy basement and then leaving to go on a date with
Hazel rearing up in his mind, his mom, standing by the oven, eyed
him nervously. “Ian, what happened? You look terrible.”

“Late night,” he mumbled, sliding into a
chair around the table, while his mother placed a pan of ham and
egg casserole in the center of the table. “I had a good time
though.”

A warm smile formed on her face, causing her
anxiety to lessen somewhat. “I’m glad you had fun, Ian, though you
really need to get more sleep… you look terrible.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” he
said tiredly, an unfinished grin on his face, as he watched her
return to the stove to check on the blueberry pie. After resetting
the timer, she briefly checked on the cooked sausages before
pouring batter into the waffle maker.

Done staring off into space, he unevenly cut
a slice of the casserole and plopped it onto his plate, too
exhausted to even care about the protocol of only eating once
everybody was there.

Yet before he could touch the food, his
sister skipped up to him like a ballerina, Tinkerbell sprightliness
on her face, with her friend trailing close behind her. “Rowan told
me all about your little surprise at the party, Ian. Care to
explain?”

His tone turned slightly edgy, as he perked
up, hoping Rowan wouldn’t notice how exhausted he was. “After what
happened last night, I don’t think so.” Ian took a huge bite of the
warm casserole, half expecting the discussion to end--it
didn’t.

“Oh, come on,” Rowan joined in, smiling. “We
were just having a little fun.”

“Well, I find your sense of humor very
bothersome,” remarked Ian. “How would you like it if Eddy and I
trashed your room?”

“Trashed?” blurted out Melinda, her cheeks a
blend of red and pink. “We barely touched it.”

About to get angry, he remembered his promise
to be nicer to her and so ended the discussion by simply taking
another bite of casserole.

As if sensing her victory, Melinda quickly
moved back to the former topic, a mischievous grin on her face. “So
what’s this about you wearing an elven costume to a party, Ian? It
just doesn’t sound like you.”

Ian inwardly sighed. Back to this again. He
tried to look relaxed as he forked another bite of casserole. “Ok,
I know it was kinda weird, but I just had to do it. The look on
people’s faces when they saw me wearing it was simply
priceless.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you wore an
elven
costume. Here I always thought you were freaked out by
fantasy.” Melinda removed a bottle of red fingernail polish from
her Asian-styled purse, which lay on the floor beside her as she
brought up an incident from the past to strengthen her point.
“Remember that one time in Myrtle Beach? That mermaid sand
sculpture totally--”

“Mel, quit bringing that up. That was ages
ago,” cut in Ian. “Besides, I was only seven, and it had sharp
teeth, a devilish smile, and evil red eyes. You know that’s not
normal. That’s the kind of stuff that can really scare kids.”

“You were scared of red seaweed.” She
laughed, as Rowan all too quickly joined in her laughter. “And you
didn’t even know what kind of creature it was. You thought it was a
fish monster. Obviously, you never watched the Little Mermaid.”

“Apparently not,” he said, hating the
recollection of this embarrassing incident. Melinda had a real
talent at turning old events into humiliating experiences. That
Rowan was here only made it that much worse. He could all too
easily imagine this story getting to Hazel in some exaggerated even
more embarrassing form.

As he hesitantly poured himself a glass of
apple juice, Rowan quickly edged herself into the conversation. “I
never knew you were scared of mermaids,” she said, chuckling. “Now
I know exactly how we can get back at you.”

Ian frowned in confusion. After what the
girls had done to him last night, he’d thought they’d be completely
satisfied. Apparently, he’d underestimated their evil hearts. “Get
back at me? For what?”

Rowan only smiled as she turned to Melinda as
if to let her do the job of explaining.

Applying her fingernail polish, Melinda
curved her lips into a golden smile, her dark ocean blue eyes
brimming with sarcasm. “Remember what you told Rowan when she wore
that pink fairy costume last Halloween?”

Now where was she going with this tangent?
“Not really--it’s been a whole year.”

She laughed. “Well, I do. You said that she
looked like a mutant butterfly wearing a brown wig and lots of
sparkly makeup.”

Ian snickered as he looked at Rowan, suddenly
visualizing her in that costume with the same dejected look on her
face after he’d insulted her. “Yeah … your point?”

Grinning deviously, she replied sharply, “She
hasn’t forgotten and plans to even the score this year.”

He burst out laughing. “Really? So she’s
waited a whole year to get even with me? That’s awfully patient of
her.”

“It’s called calculated revenge,” replied
Melinda, a clipped smile on her face. “Obviously something you
wouldn’t understand.”

But Ian ignored her insult. “Oh, now I’m
really scared.” He shuddered mockingly. “What’s she gonna do, make
me wear her old costume?”

“Of course not. There’s no way it’d fit
somebody as fat as you.” She chuckled under her breath while Rowan,
already deeply amused by this conversation, remained silent except
for her continual laughter.

“Real mature, Mel,” he muttered, wondering
what secret pleasure she enjoyed by calling him fat when his body
clearly failed every definition of the word. “If I wanted to look
like a giggly, glittery girl, I’d have no trouble fitting into her
costume, other than the fact that her costume would come up short
on me … three inches short to be exact.”

“Oh, it’s on,” said Melinda, as she stared at
him with wide-frenzied eyes. “Come Friday night you’ll have wished
you never said that.”

“Go ahead.” Ian shrugged, pretending to yawn,
as Rowan just grinned. “Give me your best shot.”

“Oh, we will. We will. You can’t insult my
best friend and expect nothing to happen.” Seemingly satisfied with
her threat, she poured herself a glass of apple juice and scooped a
piece of casserole onto her plate, before going to the refrigerator
and grabbing a jar of real maple syrup. Once she set it on the
table, she gazed at Ian, as she stuck her hands in a bowl of ice
water so the nail polish would set. “So, Ian, will you let us check
out your elven costume?” she asked casually, as if the former
conversation had never happened. “I hear it’s really amazing.”

Ian gave her a weird look, and then, sensing
that she had moved past bothering him and would actually be nice
now, simply murmured, “Yeah, sure, but not now.” He filled up his
glass with orange juice and drank half of it. Drowsiness began to
overcome him again, and his eyelids sagged.

She nodded eagerly. “Will you help me shop
for my costume tomorrow since you got such a cool one?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ian replied, not really knowing
what he was saying.

Her face lightened up even more. “So, do you
think I’d look better as a fairy or a mermaid?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” asked
Ian sarcastically, while drizzling maple syrup on a waffle, which
his mother had placed in front of him, hoping to shake himself
awake from his tiredness. “Because you know I’m not partial to
either.”

She took her fingers out of the ice water,
and dried them off on her napkin. “Ok then, what costume should I
get?”

“I’m thinkin’ a vampire one. It’d go well
with your red nails.”

Melinda nodded her head slowly, thinking over
his advice, before adding, “Anything else?”

“Although it’s cliché, you could try a
princess costume.” He smiled thoughtfully, as Rowan gave him an
intrigued look. “I know I’ve never told you this, but you make a
great princess.”

“Thanks, Ian.” She patted him on the
shoulder, an endearing look in her eyes, a radiant glow about her.
“You’re awfully nice today. I think you’ve just spared yourself
some of our wrath.”

He shrugged, embarrassed by her compliment,
and was just about to murmur a weak reply, when his older brother
Erik slid down the railing, his mode of transportation down the
stairs, and strutted towards the table.

Pulling back his chair, Erik slumped into it,
seemingly not even noticing Rowan, and then faced Ian, a swindler’s
grin on his face. “Wanna help me with my homework tonight,
bro?”

“Which class?” asked Ian, as he picked up his
waffle and took a huge bite out of it, trying not to get too much
syrup on his hands, but failing all the same. Since the silverware
wasn’t on the table yet, and he was too lazy to get them himself,
he had to make the best of the situation.

“Chemistry; I never figured it out in high
school and it’s carried on to college,” he replied impassively,
without even the faintest trace of shame over this deficiency.

“Sure, I’ll help.”

Erik nodded his head gratefully and then
stared at Melinda, who was applying a second coating of red nail
polish. “At the table? Really?”

“Why not? At least I’m not some barbaric
warlord who stuffs his face with his hands.” She gave Ian a harsh,
but humorous glance.