Kiss of Fire (8 page)

“How was your friend’s house?” Mom asked, setting a large bowl of leftover soup in front of me. She looked at me eagerly, excited I had taken her advice so seriously.

“Wyn,” I provided. “It was fun. She likes Styx,” I added, causing Mom’s smile to widen.

“A girl after my own heart,” she said.

“Yeah, I really like her.”

Mom smiled and moved away from me, back to her cleaning. “And the movie?” she asked, spooning a strawberry puree into a crystal dish.

“We didn’t get around to the movie; we mostly just talked.”

“Girl talk? You?” she asked in disbelief.

“I know.”

Mom wiped her soapy hands on her apron and came over, stealing a spoonful of chicken dumpling soup. “Mmmm, I do make a good soup.” She licked her lips in enjoyment.

“The best,” I agreed.

The platters began returning, most picked clean either by the family or by the staff on the way back to the kitchen. The trays and dishes clanged as they threw them, one after another, into the sink. My mom rushed back into action, as she directed the huge number of tasks with ease.

I remembered when she had first started. She had come home in tears after she had forgotten to serve an appetizer course, and the roast beef had been served lukewarm. The next morning, we had arrived in the kitchen to a very uncomfortable Edmund who explained what had gone wrong, while also offering his compliments on her pear gelato. He had left after that, leaving behind a small, freckled boy with blazing, blue eyes and an absolute mop of dark, curly hair.

I had been hiding behind my mother’s legs, and when I saw him staring at me, I buried my face into the back of my mom’s thighs. He had come up to me, tugging on my arm in an attempt to get me to play with him.

“What’s her name?” he asked my mom in his innocent voice.

“Joclyn.”

“Hey, Joclyn.” He tugged again. “Do you want to come play with me? I made a castle in my room; do you want to come see?”

I had turned my head to look at him. He smiled at me, and I felt more comfortable. I took his hand, my mom still prodding me along to go with him.

“You have very pretty eyes. They look like diamonds.”

He was always charming, right from the start.

I smiled at the memory, the way I had when he had first said the words to me. Somehow, even all these years later, it still made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I had been so uncomfortable about my newly-changed eye color, and he had taken all that fear away.

“You ready?”

I looked up. My mom was standing by the door of the now empty kitchen, hand perched on the light switch.

“Come on, honey; it’s time to go home.”

I stood slowly, my body stiff from sitting in my daydream for so long.

“Glad you’re still with me,” Mom said. “I thought I lost you for a little bit.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking, I guess.”

“Something good and not involving rippling muscles, I hope.”

I ignored her obvious jab at Ryland before stepping into her old station wagon. “No, Mom,” I grumbled as I closed the door behind me and shut us into the small space. “Wyn saw my scar.” Better get it over with right away; it was what I traveled out of my way to talk to her about after all.

The mood in the car changed immediately; stressful energy dripping into the air. I wasn’t sure who was more stressed about my statement, me or my mom.

“Mmmmhmmmm.” My mom’s non-committal grunt prompted me to continue.

“And I think I know why I’m so scared to let people see it.”

She didn’t respond; she just drove, waiting for me to continue. She was always so good at that, just sitting and listening without interjecting.

“I’m afraid that people will think I am broken and leave me, just like Dad did.” It felt good to say it aloud, to let my deep-rooted fear free for the first time. Somewhere between leaving Wyn’s and entering the bright lights of the city, I had started to let that shy little monster of fear out from where he had been dwelling, hidden inside me for the past eleven years.

“I’m sorry, honey. I never knew… I didn’t realize that everything had affected you so much.”

“Neither did I. I figured it out on the way over,” I sighed. “The way Wyn talked about it, how she asked me not to let it ruin my life anymore… I don’t think I realized that I was doing that until that moment.”

We sat silently, lights flashing in the dark, the sound of the over-worked engine buzzing in my ears.

“Not everyone left you because of the mark, you know,” my mom said, her hand patting my knee in a comforting way.

“Just Dad.”

“Yes, just Dad. He left because he couldn’t handle it.”

“And because he was paranoid.” I knew I was being a little too honest; I just hoped Mom didn’t read too much into it.

“Maybe a little of that, too.” She smiled, but it was a sad smile, as if she knew the truth, but didn’t want to admit it.

“But not everyone left, Joclyn. I didn’t leave; Grandma and Grandpa Despain didn’t leave and Grandma Hillary didn’t leave. Ryland didn’t leave.”

“That’s not fair, Mom. Ryland doesn’t even know about the mark.”

“True, but if you were broken, he wouldn’t have stuck around so long.”

“I guess that’s right.” I knew it was; from the beginning it was. Even when he had found me crying in the bushes behind the kitchen when I was eight, he just smiled, handed me a rose and dragged me back to his room to play video games.

“So tell me…” Mom’s voice cut through my memory. “Did Wyn run away?”

“No.”

“Did she scream in fright?”

“No.”

“What did she do then?” I had seen the trap from the beginning and had to smile at my mom’s obvious attempt to make a point.

“She thought it was cool, and told me I shouldn’t let it ruin my life anymore.”

“I like this Wyn more and more. Maybe she will help me to get you out of those hoodies.”

“Don’t start, Mom,” I pleaded.

“Well, I’ve got to try. We do have that shopping date on Saturday. You would look so nice in that brand new, red shirt.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal.” An idea had come to me out of nowhere, although I knew it might not work, it was worth a try.

“Now, I am worried.”

“I won’t wear a hoodie, no hoodie all day on Saturday, if you let me hang out with Ry that night and watch a movie.”

“Joclyn, we talked about this.” She was stern.

Stupid Ryland, having to take off his shirt! I don’t think my mom would have ever started to take this stance if he had kept his shirt on. Oh, and if he hadn’t tried to kiss me in the kitchen… I stifled a sigh at the memory before rebutting.

“I know we did, but I can’t just walk away from him, Mom. He’s my best friend, and he’s leaving for Oxford in a few months and then he won’t be my friend anymore, anyway. He will have other friends, and girlfriends, and a fiancée, and run a huge company. He won’t just be Ry anymore. He will be Ryland LaRue, heir to a fortune.” I spoke very fast. Even though it hurt to say it, I knew it was true. No matter how many fantasies had entered my mind, it could never happen.

“He already is that.”

“I know,” I whispered. It took me a moment to find my voice again. My heart thudded around my chest in a desperate plea not to make this compromise with my mom. “Mom, can I just have him as a friend for a little while longer? Then I will leave him alone forever. I’ll have no other choice.”

“It’s not just that, Joclyn.” She sighed again, frustrated.

“Then, what is it?” I held my own though, my eyes digging into hers.

“Okay,” she conceded, “you know how Timothy is always warning me to keep you two apart?”

“Yeah.” I was hesitant; I didn’t like where this was going.

“Well, it used to be a half-hearted warning. Now, it feels almost… dangerous.” She looked away from me, the subject making her uncomfortable.

“Dangerous? Like ‘Keep her away from him or else’?”

“It’s more than that. Timothy made mention of your safety and how dangerous ovens are. I don’t know. It just made me uncomfortable.”

Edmund had said something similar in the hall a few days ago. It was such an odd thing for him to say that I had just dismissed it, but hearing it again from my mom was weird. Forget corporate drama, this bordered on super-villain.

“Anyway, I’ve started looking for a new job.”

“What?” Panic, sheer panic, gripped me. I felt my chest get tight and uncomfortable. Not only was change not good for me, she was ripping my best friend away from me. “Mom! You can’t.”

“I have to, Joclyn. I have to keep you safe. You are my number one priority.”

“Then, you have to let me go on Saturday, if you are going to take him away from me anyway,” I pleaded with her, trying to ignore the earth-shattering pain that centralized in my chest.

“I don’t know, Joclyn. A movie?”

“We’ve watched plenty of movies before.” I was begging; I had to go now.

“Yeah, but alone, in his room.”

“Done that, too.” We had even watched a movie with the lights off, but it still wasn’t as much of a scandal as my mom made it out to be.

“Yeah, but never with overactive, crazed, teenage hormones trying to stick you two together like magnets.”

I paused. She had a point.

“Don’t worry, Mom. Nothing will happen. I can’t let it. I just want to enjoy the last little bit of time I have left with my friend.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay, but just remember, if I can’t go to the movie, I am wearing the biggest hoodie I own. If you let me go, I will leave the hoodie at home, and I might even wear the skirt. Well, not the skirt; I’d look like a moron.”

I tiptoed through the house on Wednesday morning, trying not to wake my mom. Wednesdays were the only day in the week my mom got to sleep in, having to go in for dinner service and the late-night weekly board meeting that night. Of course, letting her sleep in meant that I had to leave for school about twenty minute before usual. That, coupled with the fact that I had slept in, meant that I was running far later than I was comfortable with. The problem with living in such a small apartment was that trying to be quiet was impossible when you were in a hurry.

I brushed my teeth in a rush, attempting to run a comb through my hair at the same time. The dark circles under my eyes had taken on a whole new shade of ugly, so I rubbed some of my seldom used concealer on them, vowing to eat a piece of fruit for breakfast. I brushed my hair, letting the sleek black strands hang low down my back.

I rushed out of the bathroom and into my small bedroom, throwing on one of my two, un-ripped, pair of jeans and a fluorescent green tank top. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror that hung behind my door. Everything fit my small frame snuggly, something that would be hidden when I put on my hoodie. Of course, if my mom agreed to my compromise, I would have to spend all day Saturday like this. Not that that would be a bad thing, my arms and face could do with a little sun. I sighed, trying to figure out if I was ready to throw the hoodie aside. Although I could feel myself changing, I didn’t think I was ready to change that much.

I grabbed a dark green hoodie as I walked out the door, locking it behind me. After my father had left, my mother had moved us as close to her new job as she could, which landed us in a tiny, overpriced apartment in a very upper-middle class neighborhood.

Most of our neighbors made six figures and tended to look down on those that lived in the complexes. Some of them were nice and tolerable, but every once in a while, you ran into someone who thought that we shouldn’t be allowed to socialize with them.

It was amazing how much I dealt with financial stereotypes every day. My mom was personal chef to a gazillionaire and I went to school with kids who get new Lexus’s for their birthday.

I hopped on the school bus that stopped right outside my apartment complex with a few other kids and made my way to the middle, finding a bench to take up all on my own. We arrived at school about five minutes to the first bell, pulling up to the bus stop in front of the large, red brick building.

The school grounds were bathed in patches of sun from the rays that broke through the white, puffy clouds lining the sky. An unnaturally warm breeze wrapped itself around me as I stepped off the bus. The wind caught and pulled my hair in odd directions, so I pulled my hood up in an attempt to hide myself. The steady gusts kept pulling at my hood, causing me to hold it in place.

The large expanse of grass in front of the school filled up with last-minute stragglers as the morning bell prepared to ring. I walked toward the main entrance, wanting to get out of the wind as fast as possible. I had gotten about halfway when a tall figure distracted me, causing my feet to stop in shock.

The same, tall, blonde man stood just off to the side of the front entrance to the school. He leaned against the building with his arms folded across his chest. He wore a tight fitting, light blue, button-up shirt and another pair of strategically ripped designer jeans. Even with the wind whipping against his clothes, he stayed still. His head was bowed and I could just make out closed eyes amid the masses of his blonde hair blowing in the wind. I knew he wasn’t looking at me, but I couldn’t shake that tormented feeling like I was being watched, or as I had put it earlier, stalked.

I looked away from him and picked up my pace, eager to get into the school. I had forgotten about him after everything else that had happened last night; however, seeing him there again brought all that anxiety back. I felt jumpy and nervous as I walked into my first class, French.

I looked over the room before sitting down, worried that the blonde man had followed me here. My irritation shivered up my spine, making me wonder if my paranoia level was becoming unhealthy. I settled in before Madame Armel could begin her instructions in French. I was only in this class for graduation credit, meaning the class was filled with a bunch of freshmen and sophomores, so I tended to sit at the back and blend in more than usual.

Madame Armel began her lesson on advanced conjugation, while I opened my book in a futile attempt to follow along. It was hard to stay focused however; my mind kept wandering. My thoughts jumped from checking to see if the blonde man was around, to worrying about what I was going to say to Wyn when I saw her, and ultimately, to thinking about Ryland. My mind jumped from lip-locked fantasies that made my heart swim and pound, to the thought of his arms wrapped around mine in an intimate embrace, sending a pleasurable shiver up my spine. I couldn’t think that way, though. I had promised myself that we would just be friends and that I would leave him alone. I was left with a hollow, empty feeling as I shooed the fantasies away.

The bell rang much sooner than I expected and I rushed out of class, my mind still overtaken by thoughts, worries and fantasies.

---

Wyn sat down next to me, cafeteria tray and plastic bangles clanging. She didn’t say anything at first. I didn’t blame her; I didn’t know what to say either. How could I start a conversation after what had happened last night?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, much softer than I had wanted to.

“I’m sorry, too,” she responded, her bright voice sounding off against my strained whisper. “If I had known it was such a big deal, I wouldn’t have brought it up.” She paused and bit her lip, as if contemplating whether or not to say something else. I looked at her in expectation, but she had decided against it, looking back down to her food.

I sighed and went back to my food as well. I was glad we had moved beyond it, but the awkwardness still wasn’t over. I hoped I could think of something witty to say that would strike up a bright conversation, yet nothing came to mind that I wanted to share. Every thought in my mind was an over-dramatic problem, so I kept them all to myself.

We sat in a very strained silence through all of lunch, each of us eating our greasy cafeteria food as if we sat alone. I felt an odd gnawing at my heart that I wasn’t sure I had ever felt before. I had ruined everything and all because of the mark. Wyn was right when she told me not to let it ruin my life anymore, except this time, I was doing it intentionally. It wasn’t like Wyn had tried to leave; I sat here trying to push her away, not knowing how to stop myself.

I turned toward her just as the bell rang, surprised to see her already looking at me. Her dark eyes stared into me, pinning me in place with a look of mingled excitement and fear. She looked like she was expecting something from me. I opened my mouth to answer her unasked question, but closed it again, realizing I didn’t know what she was going to say.

“I better get going to English,” Wyn said without looking away from me.

I watched her as she turned to leave, ratty shoulder bag draped across her back. I wanted to run after her, to explain why everything upset me and all about Ryland, and my dad, and everything. I just couldn’t make myself move.

Wyn took a step to the side, leaving a break in the small group of students leaving the cafeteria. That small movement gave me a clear view of the door, and the blonde man standing next to it.

I looked away from Wyn’s retreating back to meet the stare of bright, blue eyes. My stomach clenched in fear as his gaze bored into mine in a glance so intense, I felt the blood drain from my face. All the times I had seen him, I had felt uncomfortable, like I was being stalked, and this time was no different. Except now, I knew without a doubt that he was following me. My frantic and panicked heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest.

In the back of my mind, I began to rolodex through every possible reason for being stalked. Everything from child predator to long-lost relative went through my mind in rapid succession. All the while, his eyes never left me; they kept me locked in place with their wide, eager expectation.

The man leaned forward, his back arching him toward me. His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare into me. A shiver wound its way up my spine, causing me to inhale for a breath I hadn’t remembered holding. At my sudden intake, a coy, little half smile spread across his face as if he enjoyed it. My stomach clenched in even further terror, my mind casting away any thoughts of what that smile could mean. I didn’t want to know. He continued to stare into me before releasing me as he turned to walk out of the cafeteria.

I didn’t dare move, even though class had already started. I was left alone with the janitorial staff and the smell of ammonia. I continued to stare at the vacant door as the edge of fear ebbed away and my spine started to relax. I shouldn’t be so worked-up over one random man staring at me, even though he had been following me. It could be anything, right?

I shook my head in frustration as I gathered my belongings and headed out the side door of the cafeteria that led to the back of the school. I knew I would get in trouble for skipping classes, but right then, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to risk being seen by either Wyn or the blonde man.

I turned around right outside the door and placed my fingers in the grooves of the deep red brick that covered the school. I lifted myself up, my worn sneakers gripping the brick as I began to scale my way toward the roof. My backpack bounced against my back as I moved up. With so little to cling onto, I was surprised I could do this at all, but something about heights and climbing had always drawn me in.

I smiled as the wind pulled my hair out of my hoodie and snaked it around my face. The feeling of the warm air made my skin tingle. With one more pull, I reached the top and sat on the edge of the building, my legs dangling over the side.

I sat, just looking at the tops of the houses and the small field where the freshmen were playing soccer. Before long, the fear of being stalked and the anger at the tension between Wyn and me came back and I sank down a bit.

I wanted someone to talk to. I needed to figure out what was going on, what I was supposed to do. I needed Ry. I needed his strong arms around me and his soothing voice telling me it was okay. I knew I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t indulge myself.

I reached into the pocket where I kept my phone, surprised when my fingertips brushed instead against something small and round.

I pulled it out, expecting to find a wrapper, but instead found the small purple marble in my hand. It rolled around my palm as the wind tugged at it. Watching it shine against the flickers of light clicked something together in my brain. The man, the bead, my dad.

My dad had referred me to a cult, and the cult had obviously found me.