Perception Read online

  I stood and stepped closer to him, my hands clasped in front of me. “Please? For me?”

  He met my gaze. “She wouldn’t do it for you, you know.”

  “Well, I can feel superior for my good deed.” I flashed him a smile. “How’s that for a selfish reason?”

  He reached out and softly stroked the side of my face. “You’re always more concerned about other people than yourself.”

  “But will you go?”

  “Will you at least come to the bonfire Friday night?”

  “If Mom lets me, yes.”

  “Okay, then I’ll go to the dance with Kendra.” He hesitated a beat and added, “If you sit with me and go over what I found out online.”

  I glared at the papers. Despite how much I wanted to stick my head in the sand and ignore the information, it couldn’t hurt to hear him out. “Deal.”

  Gabriel sat in my desk chair and riffled through the papers on his lap. “There are different types of stalkers. I thought we could go through each kind and see if the profile fits someone you know.”

  I settled onto the edge of my bed, brought my legs up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. “Okay.”

  “The most common type is called intimate partner stalkers.”

  “What are they?”

  “Exes who won’t accept that the relationship is over.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “What?” I said.

  “Justin?”

  I stiffened. “No way.”

  “Just think for a minute.”

  “No. I won’t even consider it. Next type.”

  Gabriel sighed and returned his eyes to the papers. “Well, there are celebrity stalkers and political stalkers.”

  “Not me.”

  “Yeah.” He stuck that page on the bottom of the pile and held the next one up. “There are also vengeful stalkers.”

  Dread settled into my stomach. “Sounds scary.”

  “They’re mainly looking to get revenge. Anyone have a grudge with you?”

  “Yeah, there’s a line. Tiffany’s at the head of it.”

  He considered that for a moment. “The research says that most stalkers are male.”

  “But only most, not all.”

  “True,” he conceded. “So Tiffany’s still a suspect.”

  “Okay, next?”

  “The last one is the creepiest.” He paused, as if he didn’t want to read it.

  “Go on,” I said. “Just read it.” Now that we’d begun, I just wanted to get it all out there. Get it over with.

  “Some websites call them love obsession stalkers. Some call them erotomaniacs.”

  “Eww.”

  “But most,” he continued, “call them delusional stalkers.”

  “Aren’t all stalkers delusional in one way or another?”

  “Yeah, but these guys are very dangerous. They believe they are in love with their victims and that they’re destined to be together.”

  A foreboding feeling cinched my chest as Gabriel went on.

  “They often have a whole fantasy world in their head of how their relationship is going to go. Their perception is distorted. So when they try to bring that fantasy to fruition and the victim doesn’t return the affection …”

  “What?” I asked, my throat tightening with anticipation.

  “The stalker may become violent or even deadly.”

  Lovely. Just lovely.

  “And who fits that profile?” My throat was so dry, I could barely push out the words.

  “That’s the problem,” Gabriel said. “It could be anyone. Someone who knows you very well. Someone you met once. Or someone who noticed you, but you’ve never even seen.”

  Well, that narrowed down the list of suspects.

  To the whole world.

  I SPENT MOST OF MY ENERGY THURSDAY TRYING not to think. When worried feelings about Gabriel’s leaving surfaced, I ate to bury them again. When thoughts about Sierra’s death echoed in my head, I focused on class and homework to shut them up. And when my mind turned to the person who was obsessed with me, I did everything in my power to redirect. I felt as if just thinking about the stalker was giving the person what he or she wanted. My attention. My feelings. Whether positive or negative.

  I started to see suspects everywhere. A boy who bumped into me in line in the cafeteria. The postal carrier who stared one second too long when handing me the mail.

  Sierra Waldman’s cause of death had been released. Strangulation. The police were running down tons of leads in the case, from sex offenders in the area to rumors of gambling debts Sierra’s father owed. But every time I started to think about how I could help, my heart sank as I remembered there was nothing I could do. Despite how obligated I felt to use my gift, Mom kept my hands tied.

  I used loud sound — music, television, movies — to quiet all these thoughts. Mom had gotten a big order for her dresses, so she’d been busy in her sewing room. I was thankful for that, at least.

  By Friday, I was starting to feel a little better. I hadn’t heard anything else from my stalker, so perhaps Operation Ignore would work after all. School had been relatively drama free. Mallory was delighted to have a date for her very first dance, however platonic it was. Kendra needed a little nudging, not wanting to accept a “charity date” from me at first. But they were both pretty happy, and doing something good for them warmed the cockles of my little black heart.

  It was finally bonfire night and Mom had agreed to let me go as long as I was with a group. Since I was boycotting tomorrow night’s dance and I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a pen than go to tomorrow’s football game, I was excited to at least partake in this small part of homecoming weekend. Like I was a regular girl in high school.

  I sat on the couch, waiting for my ride. The bonfire was on Town Beach, close enough to walk, but Mom didn’t like that idea, and Mallory was pumped to drive anyway. Mallory’s parents had bought her a car so she could be more independent. Mallory had said it was more of a please get out of your depression so we can get back to our regular lives bribe, but it worked. Mallory with her car was like a girl with her first crush; she wanted to be with it all the time. But at least it lifted her spirits and got her thinking about something other than Sierra.

  The house was quiet. Perry was playing video games in his room with his headphones on. Mom was in the back room working on her dresses. I’d already said good-bye to her. Now I just needed Mallory to get her butt here already. The silence was driving me nuts. Every little sound startled me. A sudden whir of the sewing machine. The click of the furnace turning on in the basement.

  I needed to get out of there. Be with a big group of people. Laugh, flirt, gossip. Do normal things. I chugged a Diet Coke and stared out the window.

  Just when I thought I was about to peel out of my skin, Mallory’s bright yellow compact slid into the driveway. I’d never seen a car so small and so garish, but Mallory didn’t care. She didn’t even mind that it was like eight years old. It was all hers and it was freedom. That’s all that mattered to her. And to me, as I bolted down the walkway and pulled open the passenger-side door.

  “Why are you so late?” I asked, the words sounding much whinier than I intended.

  Mallory rolled her eyes, her head, and her shoulders in one big annoyed movement. “My parents descended on me like the demon spawn of Oprah and Dr. Phil.”

  “For what?”

  “To make sure I’m all right. You know, with the whole Sierra thing. Apparently, my mom got her hands on some book about teens dealing with grief, and they’re all worried I’m going to off myself or something.”

  Mallory pulled into the line of traffic as casually as she mentioned death and suicide.

  I stared at her. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m as good as I’m going to get for right now. Grief doesn’t disappear overnight. It’s going to take some time. They need to understand that.”

  “Parents worry.” I shrugged. “That’s their job.”
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  “They complained that I wasn’t opening up to them, but it’s hard to open up when it’s more of an interrogation than a real conversation. I felt like any moment they were going to lock me in a broom closet with a heat lamp and a lie detector.”

  I chuckled. “Imagine what it’s like living with a telepath for a mother. I have to focus on mundane things or stuff she hates, like zombies, when I think she’s trying to sneak a peek inside my brain.”

  Mallory let out a little laugh-snort. “Yeah, I guess you have it harder. But what’s cool about your mom is that she’s around when you need her. My parents only want to have these so-called important talks when it’s convenient for them. The day I stayed home from school, they both went to work, leaving me alone all day. But now tonight, because Mom read a stupid book, they decided to have this big talk. I told them I had places to go, people to see, but they said this talk was important and had to happen now. You know why? Because they had time for me now.”

  There were no street spots, so Mallory slid into a spot in the parking lot beside the beach. The lot was full, and crowds of people milled about, sipping colored drinks from clear water bottles.

  “Well, we both escaped and we’re here now,” I said. “Let’s have fun.”

  “Deal.” Mallory turned off the ignition and pocketed the keys.

  I hoped venting for a few minutes had made her load lighter and that she’d be able to loosen up and enjoy the night.

  I left my coat in the car because I knew the fire would be warm. But as we walked through the lot, I cinched my sweater tighter around me against the bitter breeze swooping in off the ocean.

  “Wow, look at that,” Mallory said as we stepped onto the hard-packed sand.

  The bonfire in the distance was raging high into the air, flames licking at the night sky. A sea of people in red crowded around it. I looked at Mallory’s black hoodie and my gray sweater and realized we’d forgotten to wear the school colors. Oh, well. There was always my hair.

  We walked briskly toward the fire, passing clumps of current students, alumni who were home from college, and townies who got into the football spirit a little too much, if you ask me. A few old guys sat in beach chairs, sharing stories about when they were on the team and all those great plays that I’m sure have been exaggerated in their minds over the years. A couple cops stood sentinel to make sure the fire or the crowd didn’t get out of control.

  By the time we reached the center of it all, the band had packed up their instruments, and the cheerleaders and football players were mixing about. We’d missed the pep rally. But that was fine by me. I didn’t even know who we were playing against in the big game. Though I’d guess their mascot was a bear of some kind because the football team kept tossing stuffed teddy bears into the fire.

  “So what do we do now?” Mallory asked. “I’ve never come to this before.”

  “Me neither,” I admitted. “We missed the rah-rah, so I guess we just hang out and talk with people?”

  I scanned the crowd for friendly faces, but everyone looked alike in the semidark. Everyone wore red Eastport shirts or sweatshirts. As the flames danced, orange shadows morphed the faces in the crowd. I wouldn’t know anyone until they were up close.

  The energy was contagious. Now and then someone would just roar, “EASTPORT!” and everyone would cheer in response. I couldn’t get into the whole sports thing. But I was enjoying the fresh air, the distraction from stalker-thoughts, and being out of the house and away from Mom’s worrying and Perry’s gloom.

  Someone tossed a fresh plank of wood on the fire. Smoke and ashes billowed out toward the crowd. We jumped back, coughing and waving our hands in front of our faces. After a moment, the fire consumed the new timber and we all inched forward again, hands reached out for warmth. I stared at the dancing flames, relishing the heat on my face.

  “Clare.”

  My head snapped up. I thought I heard someone say my name, in almost a whisper. Just one little innocent word, but it was said with almost teasing venom. My nerves prickled as I felt the now familiar sensation of being watched.

  I looked around, but no one stood out. No one was looking directly at me.

  I leaned against Mallory. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Mallory yelled over the noise.

  “Someone passed by and said my name.”

  She shrugged and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Her eyes were mesmerized by the fire.

  I could have imagined it. There were a million conversations going on at once, and people were streaming by constantly. Heck, my name could have even come up in one of those conversations. Or a passing person said something that sounded like Clare…

  Bear. Yeah, the other team. We were burning bears tonight.

  Suddenly, that Diet Coke I’d chugged didn’t seem like the greatest idea. I’d have to make a visit to the porta-potties to pee. A Bud Light can lay in the sand by our feet. I made a mental note to use that as a marker so I could find our spot again.

  I looked at Mallory, who was still lost in the flames, and said, “I’ll be back in a few. Wait for me.”

  I scrambled through the sand and the crowd toward the bathrooms. Some guy ran by with no shirt on, a big red E painted on his chest. I finally reached my destination and, of course, there was a line. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and watched the bonfire from a distance. It was beautiful, really. Long flames snapped up, like arms trying to steal the stars. Orange embers flitted through the air like fireflies.

  Minutes later, I made my way back to the bonfire. I pushed through the throngs of people, eventually finding the beer can, still half buried in the sand.

  But Mallory was gone.

  THE BONFIRE WAS TOO HOT TO STAND TOO CLOSE, but I’d slowly built up a tolerance to the heat, so if I backed away from it, the night air seemed too cold. So I did this dance. Two steps forward, two steps back, to keep comfortable while I waited for Mallory to return. I didn’t know where she would have gone. I told her I’d only be a minute.

  “Hey!” a bubbly voice said as an arm draped around my shoulder.

  It was Kendra, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She sipped from something in a brown paper bag.

  “Have you seen Mallory?” I asked.

  “No.” Kendra frowned and pulled her arm back, but knew better than to add her usual insulting statement about my friend.

  “She was here just a few minutes ago but now —”

  “Is Gabriel around?” Kendra interrupted.

  “I haven’t seen him yet,” I said. I was surprised, too. He’d been so insistent on wanting to know “for sure” if I was coming to this or not. He even wanted to know what time and all the specifics.

  “I need to talk to him about what time we’re going to the dance,” Kendra said. “I called out to him in the hallway at school, but he didn’t hear me.”

  Or pretended not to hear, I thought.

  “I’ll tell him,” I said.

  She put a hand on her hip and sighed. “I know you’re, like, forcing him to do this and everything, but he can at least pretend he’s not completely disgusted by me.”

  “He’s not,” I said. “Not at all. He’s just going through some family stuff right now. He has a lot on his plate.”

  “There you are.” Justin skidded up to me and gave me a little bump with his hip.

  “Speaking of an overflowing plate,” Kendra said to me, her eyebrows raised, before walking off.

  Justin looked at me in confusion.

  “Ignore her,” I said.

  “I always do,” he replied. His eyes lit back up as he changed the subject. “So, your first bonfire! How do you like it?”

  “It’s fun,” I said. “Though I lost my date.”

  His gaze dropped down.

  “Mallory,” I said, clarifying.

  He raised his finger in the air. “Ah, I forgot! I was just talking to her a minute ago. I went up to introduce myself. You know, since we’re going to the dance together an
d all.”

  “Thanks again, by the way.”

  “It’s no problem. She’s real nice.”

  He seemed sincere and I was glad. I really wanted Mallory to have a good time, especially after what she’d been through. I knew I could count on Justin to treat her well. He was never one to care whether a person was popular or not. Exhibit A … me.

  “So where’s Mallory now?” I asked.

  “She said she was going back to the car for a coat or something.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I said, realizing I was hugging myself for warmth. “I’m going to catch up with her to get mine, too.”

  “I’ll save you a cozy spot by the fire,” he called out.

  I jogged toward the lot, my sneakers scratching against the grains of sand as my legs pumped. I wanted to catch up to Mallory before she reached the car so I wouldn’t have to make her double back. The sounds of the crowd and the roaring fire dimmed behind me until all I heard was my heavy breathing, my shoes pounding the sand, and … something else.

  I paused, thinking I heard footsteps matching mine. I looked around, but saw only darkness. The fire was too far behind me, and the streetlamp of the parking lot too far ahead. I ran faster, kicking up sand as I sped along.

  I caught up to Mallory, who was walking at a leisurely pace, in the parking lot. She spun around at the sound of my ragged breathing.

  “Justin told me you were going to get your coat,” I said. I bent over a bit to catch my breath. “I want mine, too.”

  “You ran all the way here?” Mallory said, surprised.

  “Yeah.” I straightened and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “After that, I’m not even cold anymore.”

  Mallory threw her head back in laughter as we reached the car. She popped the trunk and leaned in to grab her jacket.

  “Mine’s in the backseat,” I said, waiting for her at the door.

  “It’s unlocked.”

  I opened the door and squinted as the interior light went on. I reached in and grabbed my brown coat, then pulled it out. But something else came with it.

  “Whoops,” I said, glancing at the large manila envelope that had fallen to the ground. I bent down to grab it, but picked it up by the wrong end. Its contents spilled onto the asphalt.