Perception Page 13

  Then, before I could stop him, he leaned in and kissed me.

  I’d kissed Justin a million times last year and once this summer, but I still wasn’t expecting it to happen again now. The kiss was familiar and sweet. It unearthed memories like a storm dredges up treasures from the ocean. Some ugly, like seaweed. Some beautiful, like smoothed stones and seashells.

  He released me and looked deep into my eyes, as if he were searching for something. An answer to a question he’d silently asked. I stared, openmouthed, unsure of how to act or what to say.

  He smiled sadly. “I just wanted to do that one more time. In case you pick him.”

  Then he descended the porch stairs and went on his way.

  I was left alone with my fingertips on my lips, wondering if that was the last kiss Justin and I would ever share.

  Monday was the first day of Spirit Week and everyone dressed in a hippie theme. Mostly, people wore tie-dyed shirts and the peace symbol. It would have been easy for me to find something from the horror that was my mom’s closet, but I’d forgotten. And, once again, I didn’t fit in.

  Mallory was feeling better. After spilling the truth to me about her fight with Sierra, her guilt had lessened. I took the credit for her return to normalcy. Normal for her, anyway.

  “Where’s your school spirit, Clare?” she said, leaning up against a locker. She wore black almost every day.

  I arched an eyebrow at her hypocrisy.

  Mallory threw her head back and laughed. “I’m just kidding. Spirit Week is lame. I’m with you. We’re rebels.” She held her fist out for me to bump it.

  “Actually,” I said, struggling to pull a book from the bottom of the pile without toppling the whole tower, “I was going to go with the theme today. I just forgot.”

  “Oh.” Mallory’s kohl-rimmed eyes stared at the floor.

  “Oh, whatever,” I said, scoffing. “If you were really so antiestablishment, you wouldn’t be all pumped up to go to the dance.”

  “I’m not going to the dance,” she countered.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re not going.”

  “So? Didn’t you have someone you wanted to ask?”

  She shook her head quickly. “It’s too much of a long shot. I don’t want to ask anymore. It would just cause problems.”

  I was about to request details, but Brooke came up to me with that look she got when she had gossip she compulsively needed to share. She gave Mallory the death stare until Mallory muttered, “Catch you later, Clare,” and stormed off.

  “Did you hear what happened?” Brooke said.

  I didn’t want to be completely rude to her. It was Kendra who’d pissed me off. But I didn’t want any part of her gossip grapevine, either. I faced my locker. “I’ve got to get to class, Brooke.”

  She stepped in my line of vision. “Kendra is brokenhearted!”

  Huh? Because I’m mad at her? “You think I care? After what she did to me at the party?”

  Brooke shook her head. “She tried to get you some attention, that’s all. And you froze up and blew it. No biggie. Everyone forgot five minutes later.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Then what’s she upset about?”

  “Tiffany asked Brendan to the dance.”

  I could barely keep up with these girls’ love lives. “I thought Kendra was going to ask him.”

  “She was. And Tiffany knew that. But she did it anyway.”

  “Wow, you mean Tiffany’s an evil wench? I’m shocked. Shocked, I tell you!” I patted my heart in faux surprise.

  Brooke rolled her eyes. “I know Tiffany’s always been mean to you, but Kendra was her best friend. Who does that to a best friend?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, cradling my books in my arms as I closed my locker with my elbow. “You three are the worst best friends I’ve ever seen.” After keeping my thoughts to myself for so long, truth suddenly flowed from me like a busted dam. “You’re always stabbing each other in the back,” I went on. “Tiffany’s a man stealer. Kendra insults all of you. And you pretend to be stupid, which is completely disingenuous.”

  Brooke’s mouth opened.

  “Big word,” I said, “but I know you know what it means.”

  With that, I spun around and marched down the hall. I headed toward the library, where Mallory and I had study hall. I couldn’t wait to tell her what I’d said to Brooke. Mallory would love it.

  I entered the library and weaved around the tables until I found her. Mallory sat at a table partially hidden by a shelf that contained all the yearbooks in Eastport High history. She was hunched over a book, gnawing on the end of a pink highlighter. I slid into the empty chair beside her and plopped my books on the table.

  “You’ll never believe what I just did,” I said breathlessly.

  Mallory didn’t look up. “Let me guess … You were at your locker talking to a good friend of yours and an evil bimbo came up and shooed your friend away like she was an annoying little gnat and you did nothing to stop it? Didn’t even think to stand up for your friend. Because the other girl was more popular.” She looked up with disdain in her eyes. “Did I guess right?”

  “No, um,” I bumbled. I’d thought Mallory had left because she couldn’t stand Brooke. I didn’t realize she’d wanted me to say something.

  Those girls weren’t real friends of mine. Mallory knew that, right?

  “I’m sorry, Mallory. But if you just listen, I’ll —”

  “You’re just like Sierra,” she spat.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You acted all sympathetic when I told you how Sierra treated me, but now you’re doing the same thing she did. You’re friends with me when it’s just the two of us, but when your popular friends are around, you treat me like a leper.”

  My mouth fell open. I was the complete opposite of that and I couldn’t believe what Mallory was saying. “That’s not true,” I said, my voice pleading.

  “It is true.” She stood up, piling her books into her arms. “You’re no better than Sierra.”

  I LEFT SCHOOL IN A ROTTEN MOOD. I TOOK THE back exit, throwing my body at the metal bar and letting the door slam shut behind me. I trudged down the hill toward the woods in my attempt to avoid all human interaction.

  Some trees stood thick, green, and full. Others had begun to change, turning various shades of red, orange, and brown and releasing their leaves, which crunched under my sneakers as I walked the path. The breeze was brisk and cool on my face, reddening my cheeks. Though I was alone and the woods should have seemed quieter than they did when I walked with Mallory, they instead seemed noisier, full of chattering birds and the fluttering of falling leaves. I tried not to bristle at every little sound, reminding myself that nature made noise.

  But as I neared the center of the woods, one particular rustle of leaves sounded exactly like a rushing footstep.

  I spun to the right. A shadow flashed between the trees.

  My heart began to pound hard. “Who’s there?” I shouted.

  There was no reply. I stared at the spot where I thought I’d seen the shadow, but anything might have caused it — a shaft of light, a passing cloud, the wind moving the branches.

  A twig snapped in the opposite direction. I turned slowly in a circle, scanning the trees.

  “Mallory? Is that you?” I worked to keep my voice confident. “You don’t have to hide from me. We can talk about this.”

  The woods seemed to hush, as if all the leaves, animals, and underbrush silenced collectively. The thought occurred to me that someone might be out there after all. But not Mallory. My skin broke out in goose bumps.

  I turned forward and marched with intensity, eyes panning left and right and occasionally over my shoulder. I stumbled over a knobby root, but quickly regained my balance. I only unclenched my jaw when I reached Fennel Street.

  I jogged up to Mallory’s door and pounded. No one answered. I looked next door at the Waldmans’ house, but the driveway was empty. My only choice was to kee
p walking home.

  No one had emerged from the woods behind me, so they were either done following me or hadn’t been there to begin with. I thought about the time I’d heard noises in the house and nearly knifed Perry. There was a good chance this was a similarly silly, paranoid delusion.

  By the time my house came into view, my breathing had returned to normal and the fear had left me.

  But even if it hadn’t, the sight waiting for me in the driveway was enough to push away any thoughts of a watcher in the woods.

  Gabriel leaned up against his Jeep, legs crossed at the ankles, his face lifted to the sky, letting the sun warm his skin.

  “Waiting for someone?” I asked.

  He opened his eyes and smiled as I came closer. “I wanted to give you a ride home, but I couldn’t find you.”

  “I went out the back and cut through the woods.”

  “You walked?”

  “Yeah, I needed to think.”

  He straightened. “About what I said?”

  “That, and other things.” I motioned for him to follow me inside the house.

  I swung open the front door, slid my backpack off my shoulder, and dropped it on the floor. Muffled voices emanated from the reading room behind the closed door. I was glad to hear we had a client during the quiet months.

  “Mom and Perry must be working,” I whispered. “Let’s head to the kitchen.”

  Gabriel followed me. I leaned into the fridge and grabbed two sodas, handing one to him. “So have you made a decision about New York yet?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “No.” He cracked open the soda and took a long sip. “It’s hard. I like it here, but my dad is so busy with his job. He’ll be fine without me. My mother needs me more.”

  “But what do you want?”

  “That’s what I have to figure out, I guess.”

  I knew the feeling.

  The phone rang and I sighed, pushing myself off the counter I was leaning against. I took a quick glance at the caller ID. A blocked number. Probably a telemarketer.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “Why are you wasting your time with those guys?” The voice was distant and distorted. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

  “Um, I think you have the wrong number.”

  “No, I don’t, Clare.” The voice drew my name out. “You belong with me.”

  Fear uncoiled in my stomach. “Who is this?”

  “Good things come to those who wait.”

  The phone became slippery in my suddenly sweaty hand. “I want you to stop this. Leave me alone.”

  “I can’t do that, Clare. You’re so special, unique, and talented. We’re meant to be together.” The voice added with bold authority, “And we will be.”

  I slammed the phone down with my trembling hand.

  Gabriel rushed to my side. “What was that about?”

  At first I didn’t answer, my eyes still fixed on the phone. The menacing words echoed in my head as my stomach lurched. Gabriel asked again.

  “It was the secret admirer,” I said, my voice quivering. “He’s gotten more … aggressive.”

  “Wait, what do you mean? I thought it was Justin who gave you that note and the flowers.”

  “No, it wasn’t. And there’s been more since then. Someone took a picture of me and left it for me to find. This person’s been watching me, maybe following me.”

  Gabriel’s eyes burned with rage. “Why didn’t you tell me? No one has the right to scare you like this.”

  “I’m not scared,” I lied. I didn’t like feeling vulnerable and didn’t like people knowing when I was.

  Gabriel put his hands on my shoulders with concern, but his expression changed as he felt my body tremble beneath his fingers. Now he knew how scared I was. I couldn’t hide it.

  He brought his hands to his sides and his fists clenched, like he wanted to hit something. “When I get my hands on whoever this is —”

  “How would you even find out?” I asked hopelessly. “I haven’t been able to find out. He’s very smart. I’ve tried to get a vision from the note he put in my locker, the card that came with the flowers, the photo he left for me … but I got nothing. He must be wearing gloves every time.”

  “But you know it’s a guy,” he said.

  “No, I don’t. The voice was distorted. It could be anyone.”

  Gabriel whipped out his cell. “I’m calling my father. It’s time to get the police involved.”

  He went outside to make the call and I sat in the kitchen, twisting my fingers. The caller had seemed less admiring and more … angry. Almost as if I had betrayed our imaginary relationship with “those guys” he’d referred to. The night on the beach with Gabriel, I’d felt like someone was watching me. I’d dismissed it as my irrational fear of the dark, but what if my stalker had been out there? Or yesterday, when Justin kissed me on my front porch, in full of view anyone hidden in the trees or in a car parked on the main road. He could have been watching then. He could have been skulking around the woods after school, following me home.

  He, or she, could be watching me anywhere at any time.

  I pushed the soda away, suddenly nauseous. I felt violated. What kind of person thought that I would be interested in returning his feelings after doing all this creepy stuff?

  An insane person, that’s who.

  The front door clicked softly closed, and a moment later, Gabriel returned to the kitchen, cell phone in his hand, a jumble of emotions on his face.

  “What is it?” I asked, rising from my seat.

  “My father can’t help us with this right now. They have a priority case.”

  I chuckled nervously. “What, did someone rob the Lobster Cabana again?”

  Gabriel shook his head slightly and I knew this was bad news. He wasn’t angry at his father’s refusal. He was understanding, sad even.

  “They found Sierra Waldman’s body.”

  NOTHING PUTS YOUR PROBLEMS IN PERSPECTIVE like death. I’d been pitying myself, thinking my stalker issue was the worst problem I could have. Apparently not.

  Sierra Waldman was dead. They found her body in the town dump. Though the cause of death hadn’t been released yet, people who kill themselves or die accidentally don’t end up in the trash. Someone had killed her and dumped her.

  I had a bit of a stalker problem, slightly creepy, but most likely harmless. That was nothing compared to what Sierra had been through. What her mother was probably going through right now. I wished I’d been able to help. But, who knows, she may have been dead this whole time.

  And the thought that circled through my mind again and again was: That doesn’t mean I still can’t help. I can find out who did it.

  But Mom wouldn’t want me getting involved. Even I wasn’t quite sure I had the guts to go through another murder investigation. But I knew I had the motivation.

  I walked through school in a fog all morning, unable to focus on my classes. I searched for Mallory, but it looked like she’d stayed home. I sent her a couple texts, but she didn’t reply. I worried about her, but there wasn’t anything else I could do until school was over.

  People asked me all day long if I was going to work with the cops again. I gave the same reply to everyone. “I don’t know. No one asked yet.” They didn’t seem too torn up over their classmate’s death. Exhilarated was a better word. Granted no one here really knew her, but they didn’t have to revel in the drama of her death like it was a juicy celebrity scandal.

  I settled into my seat for physics. It was one of my favorite classes, but I couldn’t pay attention. My mind had too much other stuff to process. Sierra’s death, my stalker, Gabriel leaving — it all churned in my stomach like spoiled food.

  Rylander was going on about impulse, momentum, and something put in motion that could not be stopped. I felt like he was talking about my own life. His eyes landed on me at one point and I felt guilty. Like he knew I wasn’t paying a lick of attention to a word he was saying.


  I looked down at my notebook.

  When class ended, I stood to leave, but Rylander said, “Clare, stay for a moment, will you?”

  My heart filled with dread as I returned to my seat and watched the rest of the class file out. Was I in trouble? It wasn’t my grades, because I was doing great in this class. Was he going to lay into me for not paying attention? I nervously twirled my pen around in my fingers.

  When everyone else was gone, Rylander went over to the desk beside mine and lifted himself onto it. Kind of a casual way to sit to give someone bad news.

  He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Clare, have you given any thought to a career in science?”

  That was about the last thing I expected him to say. “Uh, no.”

  “Why not?” He pushed his hipster glasses up on his nose. “Your grades are fantastic. Your interest seems to be there. It’s a diverse, excellent field.”

  “I took the career test with Mrs. Haberland,” I began.

  Rylander waved that thought aside. “Don’t talk to me about those guidance office tests. Mine said I should be a florist. Don’t go by a test. Don’t even go by what Mrs. Haberland tells you. Go by your gut.”

  “Also …” Ugh. How was I going to word this? “I’m not sure if you know about, um, my family. But I don’t know if someone like me would be welcomed in the, uh, scientific community.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I know about your ability. And that’s exactly why you should think about joining the scientific community. You have a different perspective to offer. Have you thought about what colleges interest you?”

  “A bit. I’ve been meaning to go on visits, but …” I paused, not even wanting to get into all the personal and familial complications that were filling up my time.

  Rylander cocked his head to the side. An expression flitted across his face, perhaps pity. I realized that he probably knew a lot more about my situation than I figured. I had been all over the newspapers, after all. And the fact that I’d been bullied constantly probably wasn’t a secret in the teachers’ lounge.

  “You know,” he said softly, “I went to high school here, too. Not too long ago. And, this may shock you, but I wasn’t exactly popular.”