Perception (7 page)

GABRIEL OFFERED ME A RIDE TO SCHOOL AGAIN
Monday morning, and that might have been the reason I wore my tight, nice-ass jeans rather than the slightly baggy comfortable ones I preferred. When I heard the car pull into the driveway, I gave my mom a peck on the cheek, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and headed out.

Gabriel smiled as I climbed into the passenger side. “Happy Monday.”

“Yeah,” I replied dumbly. I wished I had something cooler to say, like those girls who always had sexy comebacks to every statement a hot guy made. But my mind was blank, my mouth was dry, and my heart was racing.

Gabriel did that to me.

He put the car in reverse, the side of his hand grazing my thigh as he slid the gear back, then forward again into drive. My leg involuntarily jolted at his touch.

Gabriel smirked. “Do I make you nervous?”

I crossed my arms. “Of course not.”

“I think I do.”

“I think you flatter yourself.”

He laughed then, and turned his attention back to the road. A small smile crept onto my face. It was fun and exciting being so undeniably attracted to him. I just wished he didn’t know the effect he had on me.

“Any progress with the Sierra thing?” he asked as he drove.

I sighed. “No. Her mother never called to set up that reading of Sierra’s room. She thinks we’re frauds.” I twisted the strap of my bag in frustration. “I really want to help. But there’s no way for me to get my hands on Sierra’s stuff without her mother’s permission.”

“There is one other way.” Gabriel slid me a playful look.

“I am not going to break into her house!” I scoffed.

He laughed. “That’s not what I was suggesting. All I’m saying is that some of her stuff isn’t
in
her house anymore. The note she wrote is at the police station.”

My eyes widened. “Would you get it for me?”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “There’s no way my dad would let me take evidence out. But maybe he’d let me bring you in and give you a minute with it.”

“Let’s do it this afternoon.” Hell, I’d skip school and do it now if I thought Gabriel would agree.

“I can’t this afternoon. But I can do it tomorrow after school.”

“Great!” I rubbed my hands together.

“I also wanted to let you know we won’t be able to have these little morning drives together anymore.”

My thrill at having a plan of action wavered as worry picked at the edges. “Why not?”

“I’m going to have hockey practice in the mornings, starting tomorrow. I made the team.”

I exhaled loudly. Perhaps too loudly. “Oh, that’s awesome! Congratulations. You’re really fitting in here, making Eastport your home.”

“Yeah.” He had a hitch in his voice that made me turn to look at him.

“You miss it, don’t you?” I asked curiously.

“Miss what?” he asked.

“New York. All the people, the places, so much to do, the hustle, the bustle. It must be so different being in a small town.”

“I miss some of it. Certain friends. My family being together. The way things used to be.” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “But even if I was back home, those things wouldn’t be the same anyway.”

I looked down at my clasped hands. “It must be hard.”

“Sometimes. But there are great things about here. I can drive places, for one. The beach is beautiful. And there are certain people I’m quite fond of.”

He nudged me with his shoulder. I could’ve melted right into the seat.

I wondered if all this reflection was brought about by his mother, but didn’t want to bring it up just in case she still hadn’t made contact. I’d promised her I’d let her do it her own way.

“Do you talk to your mother often?” I asked instead.

“I actually just saw her yesterday. She’s in town.”

“Oh?” I said innocently.

He glanced at me with a sly smile as he pulled into a front-row spot in the parking lot. “You can give up the act. She told me what you did.”

I felt my face turn a fiery red. “What did she say?”

He killed the engine and chuckled. “Calm down. She was pretty impressed with you. Charging her like that, demanding to know if she was following me.” He looked me over with his smoldering dark eyes. “You’re small, but you’re tough.” He leaned toward me and whispered into my hair, “I like that.”

My neck felt hot as the blushing spread. Gabriel’s lips left my hair as he pulled back only a few inches from my face, never breaking eye contact. My lungs forgot how to breathe. I gripped my backpack with slippery palms.

And panicked.

I thanked him for the ride and muttered something about having to hurry. But I’m sure he knew why I made my quick exit. He knew what he did to me.

I sped past the gym and took a quick right into the main hallway, nearly steamrolling Justin in the process.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he asked, grabbing my shoulders to steady me.

“Sorry,” I said, even more discombobulated now with Justin’s hands on me.

“No worries. You can crash into me anytime.”

He let me go and I adjusted my backpack, glad my breathing was starting to return to normal.

“So,” he said. “I need to know the color.”

From the look on his face, I knew he was about to start one of his flirty games. I put my hand on my hip. “What color?”

“Of the dress you’re going to wear to homecoming,” he said with a confident grin. “So I know what corsage to pick out. Also, I’m wondering if I should book a limo. But we don’t need to decide that today.”

I was about to retort, but he gave me a playful little wave and walked on before I could. So instead I stood there like a dumbass in the middle of the hallway, my thoughts swarming around my head as students streamed by. Eventually, someone bumped into me, waking me from my coma, and I started walking again.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor, the home of my locker. I spied Cody approaching from the opposite direction.

“Slut,” he muttered as he slithered by.

Normally, I let Cody’s insults slide right off, and this one was laughable since I was the complete opposite of what he’d suggested. But, for some reason, it sparked an immediate rage inside me.

I stopped and yelled, “How about you sprout a thought of your own now and then instead of thinking whatever Tiffany tells you to think?”

His face contorted in anger. Maybe because I talked back instead of silently taking his abuse. Or maybe because my comment hit a nerve.

He grabbed his crotch lewdly. “I’ve got two crystal balls for you right here, psychic freak.”

“Way to keep it classy, Cody,” Mallory said, swooping in and leading me away by the arm before I could bury my fist in his face. Not that I would, but fantasizing about it for a moment was nice.

“Ignore that idiot,” Mallory said.

“I usually do,” I replied, taking a moment to appreciate Mallory’s outfit. She wore a black skirt and purple leggings that matched her tight purple-and-pink striped shirt. I liked the style, though I always dressed as boring as possible. My motto being that there was no need to attract any further negative attention than I already got.

We finally arrived at our lockers, but the drama wasn’t over. I saw it from a few feet away. Something sticking out of my locker vent. I groaned. What now?

With Mallory beside me, I plucked the object out and turned it over. It was a black-and-white photograph, a good shot. Definitely not done with a cell phone or a cheap camera. Whoever took the photo knew what they were doing and got a great close-up.

Of me. At night in my front yard, a mallet in my hand, looking around, fear evident in my eyes. It was the night I’d put up the Halloween decorations.

Someone
had
been out there.

And that person had taken a picture of me.

I looked at the back of the photo, but it was blank. The message was loud and clear, though. He could get close to me.

Mallory peered over my shoulder. “I think your secret admirer just became a secret stalker.”

THE LITTLE HAIRS ON THE BACK OF MY NECK
prickled. This wasn’t flattering anymore. This had become something else. Something twisted. I felt nauseous.

I was suddenly reminded of something Madame Maslov, the psychic I’d gotten to know over the summer, had said to me before she left town. She’d said that I should be wary. Because someone’s love for me did not come from affection, but from sickness.

I shoved the picture in my locker and slammed the door shut.

“Are you all right?” Mallory put a light hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head no. “You go on to class without me. I need a few minutes alone.”

The hallway was nearly cleared out. Mallory took one last glance at me and then hurried into homeroom.

The bell rang as I shambled toward the bathroom, but I didn’t care about being late. I burst in and let the door close behind me.

“You look like you’re going to barf,” a snarky voice echoed.

I lifted my eyes from the dirty floor. Tiffany stood at the mirror, applying lip gloss, her mouth open in a giant O.

I ignored her and headed for a stall, thinking she might be right, as nausea built in my stomach.

“What was it? Something bad?”

I stopped and turned to face her. “What are you talking about?”

“That thing sticking out of your locker. It was something disturbing, right? That’s why you’re hiding in here, looking all green and pukey.”

Realization dawned. “You did it.” I should have known. This was revenge for the cockroach in her locker, even though I wasn’t the one who did that. All at once, I was relieved.

And just as quickly that relief was snatched away.

Tiffany cackled. “No, not me. But I saw who did.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Who?”

She slipped her gloss into her bag and smacked her lips together. Giving herself one last appreciative look in the mirror, she turned to leave, calling out over her shoulder, “Do your psychic mumbo jumbo and find out.”

She couldn’t just tell me. No, that would be too easy. Even though she was obviously taking delight in what she had seen. Or maybe she saw nothing and was just messing with me. I never knew with Tiffany.

I dropped my backpack on the floor, not caring how grimy it was down there, and gripped the sink with both hands. I needed to calm down. Even if I ran back to my locker now,
I wouldn’t be able to clear my head enough to focus on the photograph.

I felt something building. Everything was smashing together and piling on top of each other, almost up to the surface, like a volcano ready to blow. Justin and Gabriel. Sierra. Friends and trust. Perry and his changes for the worse.

But I also felt something else. Something external. Something I couldn’t control. And it, too, was building to a crescendo. Call it intuition, call it what you want. But that feeling scared me more than the others.

I cupped water in my hands and splashed it on my face, almost violently. The cold shocked my system, and I took deep breaths while beads of water dripped into the sink. Then I straightened and dried my skin with a paper towel. The reflection in the mirror looked better than it had a few minutes ago. Color returned to my face. Strength returned to my nerves.

I nodded and picked up my backpack. Time to see if I could get some answers.

The hallway was empty. The only sounds were the click-clack of my shoes and the muffled voice of the principal reading the morning announcements over the loudspeaker from behind the classrooms’ closed doors. I dialed the combination and swung my locker door open.

The picture was right where I’d left it, slightly crinkled from the way I’d shoved it in. I smoothed it out against the wall and stared, seeing it clearly for the first time. The person obviously had a good camera. It looked like one of those professional shots. I was perfectly in focus, while the trees and
Halloween decorations behind me were blurred. The way the photo had been taken, it wasn’t like the person felt menace toward his subject — me — but instead … appreciation.

But, still. If this boy liked me from afar, that was one thing. But to hide in the darkness, snap the photo, and then leave it here for me to find … that was creepy. A plan formulated in my mind. I was going to, as Tiffany so helpfully suggested, do my psychic mumbo jumbo. If it worked this time, I’d find out who this boy was. Then he and I would have a little talk about manners, social norms, and what are and aren’t appropriate ways to express your feelings for a girl you’re crushing on.

I closed my eyes and breathed, deep and slow. I focused on the photo, my fingers sliding across the glossy paper.

And then I saw it in my mind’s eye. The photograph, in hands that were not mine. Someone was holding it, fingers slightly trembling, feeling a bit nervous. Then the person began to hook the photo into my locker vent, the blank side facing up, like how I found it.

I started to panic, not wanting to lose the image before I could find out who it was. But my visions were from the point of view of the other person. I needed him to catch a reflection of himself in a mirror. Or for someone to walk by and call out his name.

Come on
, I thought.
Before it’s gone.

But then something did pique my interest. He had a silver ring on the thumb of his right hand. A hand that was decidedly not masculine after all.

A girl was doing this to me?

The photo was now lodged in place, but before the girl let go, she looked down. I caught a quick glimpse of bright purple leggings.

I jerked back in surprise, my eyes snapping open, the vision gone.

It was Mallory.

My stalker was Mallory.