First Impression (A Shadow Maven Paranormal) (10 page)

Sunday I spend the whole
day with my mom, like I always do. The Browns text me a few times to let me know that they’ve taken Tasha off the medication, but she hasn’t woken yet. Mom and I clean the house from top to bottom while Rob spends the morning fishing with his buddies and then the afternoon playing cards. By the time he gets home at nine p.m., I’m totally shut up in my room as always, and watching Netflix until midnight.

On Monday morning I drag myself out of bed and getting on with my usual routine. I rush into the kitchen and nearly fall over myself when I see Ben sitting in the chair at the table with my mom. My heart leaps.

“Hey,” I say awkwardly.

Ben has my dad’s Hawaiian print coffee mug in his hands. It’s the one I drink from. His false brown eyes meet mine, and a smile tucks the corner of his mouth as he says, “Hey.”

A wide grin spreads across Mom’s face. “When I found Ben lurking in the hallway as Rob was leaving, I invited him in.”

“Awesome.” I croak out the word. That was at least ten minutes ago. I take a deep breath and try to play it cool. “So, Ben, have you eaten breakfast yet.”

His facial expression is so soft that it’s throwing me off guard. Usually he’s so stiff and formal…except when we’re on a roof somewhere. “Thanks, your mother offered me breakfast, but I’ve already eaten.”

I nod and head for the cabinet over the toaster. My heart is beating so fast still that I’m having a hard time recovering from this shock. I grab a bowl and the cinnamon toast cereal. Heat prickles up my neck.

“So Ben tells me that your class schedules are similar.”

“Hmmm,” I say, trying to stay noncommittal. The cereal plays a quick tinkling tune against the bottom of my bowl. My heart rate slows to a manageable level while I pour the milk.

“He says that he’s not having the easiest time in geometry. Maybe you could help him with that.”

I take a mouthful of cereal, turn around, and shrug. With my mouth still full, I say, “Maybe.”

My mother stares at me with her eyes half lidded. I look away from her and shovel another bite in my mouth. This whole thing is just too awkward for me. Ben and I hadn’t really talked since Saturday on the roof. Even when he walked me home, he seemed to be brooding more than usual, so I left him alone. I shovel down the rest of my cereal as quickly as I can while leaning against the counter. I just can’t bring myself to sit down with the two of them.

Mom stands and empties the remnants of her coffee mug into the sink while stifling a yawn.  She pulls me into a one-armed hug and kisses my temple. “Well, have a good day at school, honey.”

I set my bowl in the sink with her mug. “I will.”

Ben is on his feet and gets the front door just before I reach the knob myself. At first I thought his door opening thing was quaint. Today, I find it a tad annoying. I race down the stairs and reach the front door first. Then to spread a little icing, I hold the door for him with a smile and a little bow of my head.

He frowns but walks through.

Moisture clings to everything outside, and it’s unseasonably warm. I hop down the stoop steps after Ben, and he stops to wait for me. I eye him. “Do you really need help with geometry?”

He shakes his head. “I was just making polite conversation.”

I nod. “Thought so.”

We walk together to Jackson Hall, with him beside me except when a narrow gap is the only way through the mill of people at the bus stop. When we reach the lawn in front of the school, Ben says, “If you want to go out with him, you should.”

I blink and turn to him. “What? Who?”

Ben’s eyes are intense on mine, and his jaw pulses where he’s tightened it. “Matt.”

“Why would I want to go out with Matt?” I ask, knotting my eyebrows.

“Well, he asked…and he’s a senior and apparently popular…”

I shake my head. “You’re the one who sees…everything, right? I’d think you could tell that I’m not interested in him that way.”

He shrugs, but his expression has softened. “I just….”

My heart flutters, but instead of making me weak in the knees, this makes me a little angry. What is wrong with this boy? I shoulder my messenger bag and start up the stairs to the building. “Oh…kay.”

He skips to catch up with me in the hallway. “It’s none of my business.”

“Right.” I dash up the steps to the second floor.

He stops on the landing.

Without missing a beat, I leave him behind. I peer down at him when I reach the last step. His arms are crossed, and he’s leaning against the wall. A couple passes him and look at him like he’s strange. They give me the same look as they split to go around me. Once they pass, the giggles erupt.

His eyes are sad as he looks at me. All this rejection is something he’s used to. My chest aches to look at him like that. I should just turn around and leave. He’d probably be better off if I did. But I know that’s a lie I’m telling myself. He’s a reject, like me. When two more girls pass him with a stare, I know that I can’t leave him like this. I dash back down the steps and grab his hand. “Come on.”

A small smile makes its home on his full lips, and I find myself inexplicably drawn to his mouth all of a sudden. I blink hard and turn around, dragging him up the steps with me. The warm skin of his palm in mine is hard to release when we reach our classroom. But when I let him go, my skin prickles. I chance a glance into his eyes. His intense but happy plain brown eyes are fixed on mine. And it hits me how strange this all is. I make the brooding new boy happy? Me? The thought of this—the pressure is overwhelming. Uncomfortable. Scary.

I rip my gaze from his and rush into homeroom, slamming Mr. Scott in the shoulder with the door.

“Hey, whoa! There’s no hurry. The first bell hasn’t rung yet,” he says, rubbing his shoulder and tossing his empty Mountain Dew can in the trashcan by the door.

Heat rushes to my face. “I…I’m so sorry.”

Mr. Scott smiles broadly, and eyes me for a moment. Then he gestures into the room. “Not a problem Miss Kelly. Take your seat.”

With a quick nod and my head down, I march to my desk and scoot in. Ben cuts into his normal desk, right behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at his nearness. It’s going to be a long day.

When the lunch bell rings
after third period, I linger at my desk and take my time packing my messenger bag until the class leaves without me. I glance up. I’m alone with Mrs. Blaylock. I furrow my brows and head for the hallway.

The crowded halls are full of the scuffing of shoes and the constant dialogue between students. My gaze is drawn toward the stairwell. Ben has likely gone up there to spend time with Steve. I can’t deal with this right now. I follow the crowd meandering toward the cafeteria.

I stand in line behind two sophomores who are so intent on their conversation that they hardly move forward at the appropriate times.

“Usually he’s so cute, but today, he’s a complete mess. He hasn’t shaved and he’s got bags under his eyes,” the blonde one with her hair in pigtail braids like Tasha’s says. Her hair ties are purple sparkles.

“I know, right? It’s like he’s been sleeping in his uniform all weekend. I’m surprised Stacy can stand him,” the one with the brown bob cut says, chewing on a strand of her hair.

“They’ve been a couple, like, forever. She must love him if she can sit with him like that.” The blond one jabs her thumb toward a table of seniors.

Stacy sits with an arm around a tired and haggard looking Jacob. And the teeny boppers are right. He’s a mess. The usually perfectly dressed senior class president is setting a terrible example with his shirt half tucked in and his tie loose around an unbuttoned collar. His sandy hair sticks up in all directions. Stacy’s panicked blue eyes are fixed on her boyfriend, her lips to his ear as she whispers what I imagine is encouragement. The rest of the seniors at the table are standoffish toward the couple except Matt Benson who catches me looking and waves.

I flush and wave back, quickly averting my eyes and taking a couple steps forward in the line. The teeny boppers have moved on, discussing the latest
One Direction
album. When I reach the food selection, my appetite has left me. Donnie had been Jacob’s best friend, and now he was gone. I could imagine how Jacob felt. But boys weren’t allowed to collapse into someone’s arms and have a cry fest. And as much as Jacob likely tried to keep all his emotions in, they were showing in his disheveled appearance.

My heart broke for him. Broke for Donnie. Ben was right. We need to get to the bottom of this and find out if Donnie's death was caused by possession. And if Ben is the only person who can tell, then I need to help him as much as I can…no matter how awkward it is.

I take a deep breath and sigh, grabbing a saucer of mac ’n cheese and a brownie. I am in some dire need of comfort food right now. I pay the cashier and eye the room for a seat.

The senior table erupts in a shout and a bang on the table with Jacob’s fist. Silence engulfs the rest of the room so quickly that the absence of sound makes my ears ring.

“To hell with all of you. I’m going to find out what is going on, because whatever happened to him is happening to me, and I can’t take this anymore than he could.” Jacob yells and shoves the table.

Mr. Scott and the vice principal are marching in his direction. He spots them and heads off in the other direction for the courtyard door that’s behind him. The two adults follow him out.

The tide of conversation moves back in and slowly ratchets upward from low whispers to overexcited chatter. I don’t mean to listen in, but I stand there frozen.

“What’s going on? What’s he talking about?” Stacy asks, her hands in a tangled grip around Matt’s jacket lapel. Her hair is a twisted, unkempt blond braid with flyaways about her face. Her eyes are rimmed red and tears have streaked through her make up.

Matt’s eyes are wide and wild, still fixed on the cafeteria exit. “I don’t know for sure. But the same kind of weird stuff that was happening at Donnie’s is happening to him. He said he feels like he's being watched. Cabinets and doors slamming around his house, stuff like that, but only when his parents aren’t home.”

“What?” Stacy asks. “He didn’t say anything to me. And he's not tweeting like Donnie.”

“He told me today the stuff’s been happening the whole time, but he hasn’t said anything about it.”

She swallows and loosens her grip on his jacket.

Matt shrugs her off and starts for the door. He’s stopped by Mrs. Blaylock.

My appetite has abandoned me again. I snag the brownie and stuff it into my pocket, grab the milk, and set the rest of the tray on a table. Without a second thought, I set course for the stairs.

*

Bright sunlight stabs my eyes, and the familiar squeal of the rooftop door greets me. Steve is perched on the fence, his talons wrapped around the green painted chain link. Ben doesn’t turn around and greet me like he normally does. Somehow, this comforts me a bit and relieves some of the awkwardness I anticipated.

Steve plucks a bit of jerky from Ben’s fingertips. The snap of his beak slices through the skin of Ben's finger. Droplets of blood begin to form.

“Are you okay?” I jog to his side.

He tosses back a fleeting glance and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. With a quick wrap, the finger is covered.  He stuffs the hand into his pocket. 

He carries a handkerchief?

“It’s fine, this happens all the time,” he quips. The tone of his voice rings a bit hollow and short, and he takes a step away from me.

I falter. Did I do something wrong? I swallow back the disappointment and try to shake it off. “All the time? I don’t recall seeing little slits covering your fingers.”

The side of his mouth quirks, and he eyes his uninjured hand. “You were looking at my hands?”

I stand akimbo. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He shrugs and steps back to lean against the wall of the stairwell door. “It hasn’t happened in a while. I’m more careful most of the time. I just let myself get distracted.”

I’m a distraction. Of course I am. I watch his lean well-muscled figure in the bright sun. He cuts a clean shadow against the wall. He pulls the injured hand out of his pocket and flexes his long fingers. His square jaw tightens as he bites his full bottom lip. While he turns his hand over, his eyes look troubled and anxious, but they are half covered in the shadow of his wavy, dark, messy hair.