Gravity (15 page)

I didn’t read the passages aloud to Lacey, partly because she was busy taking in every detail about her own affliction and partly because I wasn’t sure what to make of what I was reading.  I had more questions than anything, although I strongly suspected that at least a portion of my questions would be answered.  Was that because I was an oracle?  Was it possible that I was ‘the answer’ that had been foretold? 

It sounded insane to take any of what I was reading seriously, but in light of the things I’d seen in the last week or so, it seemed perfectly reasonable that I would give credence to something so farfetched.  In fact, truth be told, it didn’t even seem that outlandish to me.  How crazy is that?

With a gentle creak, I closed the cover of the book, leaning back in my chair to ponder what I’d learned.  I’d been staring, unseeing, at Lacey for several minutes before I really took note of her appearance.  She was pale as a ghost and I could see her chin trembling as if she were fighting back tears.

I leaned forward in my chair, stretching my arm across the table to wiggle the book in which she was completely absorbed.

“What is it, Lace?”

Her eyes snapped up to me as if I’d startled her and I saw that they were brimming with unshed tears.

“I’m a monster,” came her soft, tortured whisper.

“What?” I asked, a bit alarmed about what she might’ve read to make her think that.  “Of course you’re not a monster, Lacey.  Why would you even say that?”

“According to this, I’ll hurt people, Peyton.  Maybe even kill them.  Without even trying.  Without even thinking about it really.  I’m not safe for boys to be around.  I’ll have to spend the rest of my life alone.”

I was speechless, mainly because from what little I’d been enlightened to about a succubus, she was right.  She could very well hurt someone without meaning to, without even realizing that they were in danger.  That being the case, what could I say?  How could I console her?

Adopting my most encouraging smile, I did my best to comfort my friend.  “Hey, we’ll find a way to make it all right, Lace.  I won’t let either of us rest until we do.”

“You won’t have to worry about that.  I don’t see me resting ever again,” she moaned dramatically.

“You?  The school’s biggest sleepyhead?  Yeah, right,” I teased with a wry grin.

“I’m not a sleepyhead.  I just need more beauty rest than most people.”

“That’s probably true, simply because you’re more beautiful than most people,” I stated.  And I was being sincere.  While Lacey wasn’t in possession of the typical Californian Barbie looks either, she was stunning just the same.  Only a blind idiot would argue that.

Her eyes glistened wetly when she smiled at me.  “You’re the best friend a girl could ever ask for.”

“Nah.  I’m just a good actress.  I secretly can’t stand you.”

She laughed and I sighed inwardly, glad that it seemed the worst of the storm was over.  For the moment anyway. 

CHAPTER NINE

As a community, Two Lakes was really into football.  Friday night games were a pretty big deal and no one missed them.  No one.  I could remember the homecoming game my freshman year when an entire family showed up from a wake.  A wake!  They were even still in their funeral finery.  It was more than a little disturbing to behold.  That’s when I realized that the people I’d grown up with could take things to an unhealthy extreme. 

As for me, I attended the games religiously because Trace played.  And Brady, of course, but mainly to watch Trace.  I suppose I’d have gotten dragged there anyway, even if I didn’t have a somewhat personal investment in the outcome.  Lacey wouldn’t have let me skip one.  If I even hinted at not wanting to go, she freaked out. 

This was one of those nights.

“What do you mean you don’t really feel like going?  That’s no excuse.”

I snorted.  “It should be.  When did it become mandatory to go to every Two Lakes football game?”

“Since forever!”

“I know and it’s ridiculous.  It’s like a compulsion.  It’s like the entire town
has to
gather in the stadium once a week or…what?  They’ll miss something?  I mean, what’s the big deal?  Seriously.”

“We have team spirit.  What’s wrong with that?”

It was Lacey’s blind allegiance to the ritual that caused the first pang of suspicion to strike a nerve somewhere along my spine.  What was so important about the games?  Why was there one literally every single week, at home?  That was bizarre in and of itself.  And why did everyone but me feel frantic about attending all of them?  I mean, these people didn’t miss a game for anything.  Literally.  Not even death.  It was beyond fanatical. It was insane. 

Or was it something else?

I walked around the bed and perched beside Lacey where she sat on the end, dressed in all her black and white Timberwolves game gear.

“Lace, do you even like football?  I mean, really like football?  Why do you love the games so much?”

“Um, Brady.  Duh,” Lacey responded quickly.

“So you go to watch Brady?”

“Yeah.  Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Don’t you find it a little odd that there is a Friday night football game every single Friday night, all year long?”

Lacey shrugged.  “I don’t guess.”

“I’ve never heard of people who love football so much that they have senior leagues and summer leagues just so there will be a game every week. Don’t you think that’s a little odd?  And the fact that we’ve never had an away game?  It’s like everyone has to congregate in that spot every single week.”

She shrugged again, but this time the look on her face was less casual.  “I’ve never really thought about it.”  She paused for a moment, her brow wrinkling lightly in thought.  But it passed.  She visibly shook it off and recovered.  “But it doesn’t matter.  It’s what we do.  Just go with it.  Enjoy it.  You don’t have to insect everything you know.”

“Do you mean inspect or dissect?  Pick one, because it’s not ‘insect’.”

“Whichever.  You pick,” she ordered absently with a wave of her hand.  “Just get ready so we can go.  We’ll probably miss the coin toss as it is.”

“Heaven forbid,” I muttered as I headed to my closet to slip into my black-and-white Brady Giles jersey. 

********

As usual, the stands were packed.  There always seemed to be the exact number of seats needed.  For some reason, the population of Two Lakes never changed much.  It seemed that children who grew up in Two Lakes left after graduation, but their “spot” in the community was almost immediately filled by new residents.  Then, when those children were grown, they left and the cycle repeated itself.  When I considered the truth of the thought, the bizarre nature of it, even in my own head it sounded like a breeding ground.  Or a giant recycling bin.  It was as though there were only a certain number of people allowed within the boundaries of the community, not one more and not one less.

I’d never really given it much thought until tonight.  But now, after seeing what I’d seen, experiencing what I’d experienced and reading what I’d read, I was looking at everything with a paranoid, suspicious eye.  And the odd little things about our community—like the stagnant population—were no exception.

“I’m gonna beat you!” Lacey growled over her shoulder at me as we wiggled our way into the stands. 

We’d arrived to find the opposing team in possession of the ball on the Timberwolves fifteen yard line and Lacey was not a happy camper.  When we’d finally managed to squeeze into a tiny empty space in the bleachers, I spoke. 

“It’s not like us being here ten minutes ago would’ve given the Timberwolves the ball.  Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You don’t know that.  The mystical power of our beauty and grace might’ve been just what the ‘Wolves needed to hold ‘em before they got this far.”

We settled in to watch the game, Lacey cheering wildly along with the rest of the rabid fans.  A stroke of luck, which it seemed there was never a shortage of where the Timberwolves were concerned, landed a fumbled ball back in ‘Wolves’ hands.  Lacey yelled excitedly when the offense took the field.  I couldn’t help but smile.  I felt an unusually intense thrill when I saw Trace jog to his position. 

The play the coach called was a very effective one.  Brady faked handing the ball off to one player then dropped back to throw it long, down the field into the waiting, capable hands of Trace. 

Despite his size, Trace could move with incredible speed and agility.  I watched, mesmerized, as he caught the ball, tucked it firmly against his chest and then made his way down the field, darting and dodging left and right, until he ran the ball into the end zone for a touchdown. 

The crowd erupted and even I found myself on my feet, cheering excitedly.  I watched as Trace and the smattering of players nearest him bumped chests and slapped each other’s helmets.  Their exuberance could be felt all the way in the stands and I was not immune.  My smile was wide when I saw Trace turn and look into the bleachers, his eyes making contact with mine. 

From such a distance, it would’ve been easy for any number of other people to think he was looking at them, but I knew he was watching me.  I could feel it like a physical caress, warming my cheeks with a flush of pure pleasure.  He stopped on the field and the intensity between us grew to the point that I felt short of breath.  It seemed all the noise around me faded to a soft hum, easily drowned by the heavy thump of my heartbeat in my ears.

I watched as Trace reached up and unsnapped his chin strap to remove his helmet.  He tucked it under his arm as he stood watching me.  As if in slow motion, I saw his lips curve into a stunning smile.  Then he winked at me, sending a thrill down my spine that exploded in my stomach like fireworks on the fourth of July.  For a moment, all the air in the stadium felt trapped inside my lungs, but then he released me, turning his attention back to the game and jogging off the field to the sidelines.

Once the eye contact was broken, reality came rushing back, even though all the noise and cheering was still curiously absent.  I looked down at the people below me in the bleachers.  Nearly every head was turned in my direction, nearly every eye watching me.  I looked left and right to find the same thing.  It seemed that everyone had noticed Trace’s display and that they all knew who he was watching.

Of course Lacey noticed, too.  And she commented.

“Omigod, Peyton!  Did you see that?”

When I met her excited eyes, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“See what?  What are you talking about?” I teased.

She playfully slapped my arm, her mouth still slightly agape.

“Looks like someone finally noticed Brady’s little sister is all grown up.” 

I glanced quickly around us, embarrassed to find that everyone still watched me, many of them undoubtedly able to hear what Lacey was saying.

Just as embarrassment was setting in, heads began turning back toward the field and whispers broke out.  I scanned the sidelines to see what had caught their attention and saw my brother and Trace squaring off against one another.  They were about to come to blows.

I didn’t have to hear their conversation to know what they were arguing about.  Brady had seen Trace flirting with me.  And he didn’t like it one bit.

Several teammates were already in the process of breaking them up when the coach rushed in to put a stop to it.  He grabbed each guy by the front of his jersey, pulled them down to his level (which was much lower considering both Brady and Trace’s height) and then he proceeded to give them a red-faced tongue-lashing.  Both Brady and Trace appeared duly subdued and contrite, and the game quickly resumed.