The Wardens Boxed Set Page 4

  What the Hell was wrong with me?

  I had had boyfriends back home. I had even been on dates, gone to dances, and been a somewhat teenager. However, I had never been rendered speechless like that. I had certainly not had someone, for lack of better words, literally take my breath away. Anger suddenly filled me and I turned on my heel and stormed out of the building, not stopping till I got to my car.

  What the Hell was he thinking standing in my way when I was just trying to get out of there? What the Hell did he mean, asking if I was mute? Why the Hell was I fucking swooning over him?

  I pulled down the visor and opened the mirror. My charcoal eyes stared back at me. My skin was already tingling as the rays of the sun hit me. I had to get moving before my fingertips started to burn. I huffed a few more times and went to start my car. There was an impatient knock on my window.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  I rolled my window down thinking it would be some preacher’s daughter (there were so many in this town) with an invitation for me to join their church’s youth group, or something, so I could celebrate all things Jesus.

  “You know, I’ve had just about enough of you—” I cut myself short when I realized it was him again, him with those stupid blue eyes. And that stupid smile on his lips. “Can I help you?” I barked, trying to conceal my confusion. The last thing I wanted him to know was that the very sight of him made my pulse throb.

  “Oh, so you can speak. I thought so.” He grinned. “Here.” He handed me a folded slip of paper. “It’s my number in case you feel the urge to talk some more. Or, if you want, just text. Either way, it’s up to you.”

  I glared at him.

  Was this freak following me? And why was my heart pounding like this!

  “Yeah, thanks,” I whispered, holding the paper tightly.

  He gave me another smile and walked away. I was pretty sure he would be in my driveway when I got home at the rate things were going. I was ending my first day with a stalker. Thank God he was at least cute. I shook my head and pulled out from my parking spot.

  Chapter Five: Impulse Text

  My mother wasn’t home when I got there. She must have gone out shopping or to some flea market in town. Trust me, that wasn’t out of the ordinary for her. She liked to find old things and make them look new again. We had a ton of items around the house she had restored over the years. It was a productive hobby and kept her out of trouble. One time she was gone for three days and when she came back she had six bags of miscellaneous crap and a kitten. Why a kitten? One might ask. I have no bloody idea. We had that cat for several months before one day it just upped and disappeared. I was distraught.

  I put my bag down in the living room and went to the kitchen, running my fingers through my hair. Opening the refrigerator door in search of sustenance, I sighed. I was anti school food, so I was starving. I glanced around the shelves of cold breakfast food and turned up my nose. Instead I opted for a handful of chips from the pantry and a glass of cold well water.

  Perched on the couch, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded paper. I hadn’t even looked at it since he gave it to me. My stalker’s name was Wesley Jensen. It was scrawled there in almost illegible chicken scratch.

  I rolled my eyes as my heart pounded.

  What did this boy have that was making me feel this way?

  I picked my phone up from the arm of the couch. What did I have to lose? I mean, really, the worst that could happen was that he wouldn’t message me back.

  Me: Hey, Wesley. Figured if I had your number you should have mine. Dawn

  I was content with my message. It didn’t show urgency and it wasn’t overwhelmingly needy for conversation. As my heart pounded I knew that it was exactly what I wanted. I wanted for him to notice me and want to know me. I had never longed for someone to pay attention to me before.

  I stared at my phone for what felt like an eternity, willing it to buzz. I was just about to give up when my phone lit up and started its irritating vibration. I was overjoyed as I opened the message. I am never overjoyed.

  Wesley: Hey Dawn.

  Seriously? Was that all he had to say? I threw my head back into the couch cushion and groaned. What the Hell was I supposed to say now?

  I was so frustrated. Rage pulsated through me. I knew what could happen when this started. I tried to calm myself before I set my phone on fire. Why did everything always go up in flames? I decided to put my phone down and go outside. If anything was going to catch fire I would rather it be the tree in the front yard than my phone. The last time I set fire to my phone my mother was not very happy with me.

  Then the phone buzzed again and I jumped to reach it.

  Wesley: Everything ok there?

  Was he watching me? How would he know that I wasn’t okay? I got up and looked out the window, opening my heightened senses to see if I was being watched. My hands were getting sweaty again. Jesus, just thinking of him was making me nervous.

  Me: Yeah, just trying to relax after such an exciting day.

  Great, I sounded like a complete freak! My phone buzzed again. Each time it made that noise I felt a skip in my heart and I giggled like a normal schoolgirl. I’m sure it was a sight to see, too, me regressing five years as if this was the first time a boy had called me.

  Wesley: Can I call you?

  What was I to say to that? I got all giddy inside. I even let a little giggle escape my lips again. YES! I wanted him to call me! Right on cue my phone rang. I counted to three and answered.

  “Hey.” I tried to sound casual, but it came out as more of a squeak and I hung my head in shame, thankful he couldn’t see my face.

  “So you had a great first day in small town USA, huh?” he said, laughing. He had an amazing laugh, and it got me swooning again.

  “Yeah. Everyone was so accepting. I mean, I made so many new friends today,” I assured him.

  Actually, hardly anyone had bothered to talk to me. The only person who had said anything at all was Wesley.

  “Yeah, I could tell.” He muffled another laugh.

  “So what made you want to talk to the new girl? Everyone else seemed more intent on staying as far away from me as they possibly could.” I stuffed a chip in my mouth and tried to crunch it softly so he couldn’t hear that I was eating.

  “Well...” He paused. “I’m not really sure, actually. When I saw how uncomfortable you were and how much like the others you weren’t, I thought, what the Hell?”

  I felt suddenly annoyed. So the attention he was paying was based on pity and nothing else.

  “And here I was thinking you were smitten with my bubbly personality,” I joked drily.

  “Well, that helped,” he conceded.

  We talked for about an hour. I learned that we liked the same music, had the same taste in movies, and could get lost easily in a good book. His favorite color was blue, and he had a twelve-year-old sister named Melissa. When we hung up the phone I felt like I was walking on cloud nine. This was an unnatural emotion for me. I had never felt this before.

  I wandered into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, not expecting to see any change. I saw the same pale features and same round face. However, my eyes had changed again. Instead of chocolate brown they were dazzling blue. My eyes always amazed me. As if I wasn’t enough of a freak already, they had to turn around and make me even freakier.

  My mother had told me that my eyes were like a permanent mood ring; that when I was angry or upset they would be dark brown, but if I was happy and optimistic they would be blue. Nine times out of ten they were brown. The color change was always gradual, so they must have been changing while I was on my drive home. How odd it was that a boy could make them transform like that. Usually it took an act of God to get them to be this blue.

  My mother had also said that my eyes would show me the way, that they would help me to figure out what was dominant, the light side or the dark side. However, this could c
hange as fast as my mood did. One second I may be angelic and the next demonic. In the latter case it was best to get out of the way.

  So I had to watch my moods and make sure I maintained an even balance. It was so hard, though. The balance was so easily tipped. One way things would go up in flames and the other they would turn instantly to ash. Not many people get to have flames shoot from their fingers and burn a field of corn to the ground when they are just sixteen years old. But it had happened to me. That was one reason why my mother insisted we live in the country. If my gifts ran out of control, nobody had to see the outcome.

  I don’t remember exactly what it was that triggered it. All I remember is how scared I was. Burnt corn and singed grass are not the most pleasant smells. I laid that field flat in seconds. I remember that I didn’t understand why I was not singed myself. My clothes were untouched and my hair still pulled back. My mother stared at me in shock the whole time until she was forced to put the flames out. I do not recommend putting a halfling child in the middle of a field to see what they can do.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” my mother said to me.

  It was the first time we had seen the fire. All the other gifts I had received previous to that had been small in comparison.

  “Neither was I,” I replied.

  I could still feel my fingertips burning. To this day when the fire burns I can always feel the tingle of the flames in my fingertips.

  ***

  It was about midnight when my mother came through the door. She had two bags of fast food in her hands. It smelled amazing, and I was famished. Taking the bags from her, I ripped one open and unwrapped a burger and had half of it devoured before she could even put the straw in her drink.

  We ate in silence. I could tell by the light in her eyes she had finally gone to the church. She always found sanctuary in faith. She figured that if she showed just how sorry she was, one day God would send down an angel to carry her home.

  That was why she always struggled to find her place in the church. She worked for God in her own way. She would find a struggling congregation and help the pastor to bring them back to salvation. In El Paso she had worked with Pastor Rylie. He was a nice enough guy. He had a tremendous amount of faith, but he was just too concerned about trying to save me. I don’t know what he was trying to save me from. Whatever it was made sense in his mind.

  I would have accepted it if God had told my mother to come back home. What else could I have done? She never told me who she was originally; never said why she had fallen in love with my father, or even how they were caught. All I knew was that she was close to God, and it hurt him tremendously to take her wings.

  He had spared me for some reason, the growing life inside of her. Sometimes I thought if he had just taken me away my mother would still be in Heaven. Maybe not with the same standing, but at least up there. At any rate, if she was there she wouldn’t be so sad stuck here on Earth.

  I had never asked my mother why she had given me to my father. She, for her part, had never offered to tell me the story. I just knew that at the time things had not been going well and that she found it easier for me to be in his protection. He had more allies than she did. She knew that if anything happened he would keep me safe.

  Sometimes we are forced to do things we do not foresee. Being sent to Earth was definitely something that my mother wasn’t counting on. Whenever I pressured her for information all she would say about Heaven was that one day she hoped I would see it for myself. But I couldn’t help questioning my own religious beliefs. I knew I wanted to see Heaven, but I was unsure if it could be just how it was described.

  Once I had finished my meal I kissed my mother on the top of her head, told her I loved her, and headed to bed. I put on my black yoga pants and a tank top, placed my phone on the night stand, and crawled under the covers. I was just about to turn towards the wall when my phone vibrated viciously. I rolled over, irritated, and grabbed it. My heart leaped into my throat when I read the message.

  Wesley: Sleep well, beautiful.

  Chapter Six: Chinese Food And Selfies

  My second day at Midvale went pretty much the same as the first. Everyone ignored me, pretended I wasn’t there. I was used to this so it didn’t bother me much. I was standing at my locker after my fourth hour class when Wesley approached me.

  “What are you doing after school today?” he asked. His eyes were stunning.

  “Nothing much. Figured I would go home, watch some TV, maybe do some homework,” I said as I pulled out my next period’s books and shut the locker.

  “Want to get something to eat after school?” he asked nonchalantly.

  My heart raced. I had nothing else to do, so why not spend the afternoon with him? It wasn’t like it was a date or something. Right?

  “Yeah, that sounds cool,” I said as I turned to walk away. “Meet me outside after last period.”

  “Great.” He smiled and hit his fist softly against the locker before turning in the opposite direction.

  I wasn’t sure how I would survive those last few hours before I saw him again. I didn’t hear much of what the teachers were saying in class; I caught something about polynomials and human anatomy. My mind was focused on other things. Like a six-foot boy with blue eyes.

  I was nearly skipping as I left the school that day. When I reached my car I put my bag in the trunk then leaned against the vehicle. I had beaten him to the parking lot. I fixed my shirt about ten times before I saw him coming toward me.

  “You ready?” he asked as he approached.

  “Yeah.” I tried to sound unfazed by his presence, but I was pretty sure the silly smile on my face gave me away.

  “Great! I know this awesome Chinese place on the square.”

  He glanced at my car. I know it wasn’t much, but it was all I had left of my stepfather. Let me reiterate: I had issues with the man, but he worked hard to make it up to me and this was supposed to be our project car. Our own way of getting through the past.

  “You want to drive or do you want me to?” I asked, wondering which vehicle in the parking lot was his.

  “You can today. My car is having some work done, so I had to walk.” He grinned.

  I opened the trunk of my car so he could put his bag in next to mine. When I shut it our hands touched and at that moment the same magnetic impulse surged through my veins.

  “You are going to have to tell me where to go. Either that or you can drive.” I never allowed anyone to touch my car other than me, so I was shocked I had even offered the keys to him in the first place.

  “Yeah, I can do that.” He took the keys with a smile and walked around to the driver’s side of the car.

  I sat in the passenger seat as he put the key into the ignition and the car came to life.

  “So, Wesley, how long you been here?” I asked as we set off. I had noticed that the majority of the school treated him to the same kind of looks that they gave me.

  “I moved here at the start of junior year.” He didn’t say any more on the subject, just sort of latched his mouth shut.

  “So you aren’t part of the in-crowd then?” I joked.

  He glanced over at me and smiled. “No, that I am not.”

  I could sense tension in the air, and that made me nervous, too.

  “That explains a lot.” I said airily, while trying not to wring my hands together.

  “What do you mean?” He turned right as we entered the square.

  “Well, the way you were so accepting of me without knowing me at all.” I looked out the window as he pulled into a parking spot.

  “I accepted you because I was drawn to you.” He winked at me and turned off the engine.

  We got out and entered the restaurant, taking seats in a corner booth away from the eyes of other students in the place. He sat across from me and played with the fraying edges of his menu. We didn’t speak for a few moments. In fact, we didn’t speak to each other at all
until the waitress had taken our order.

  “So why did you come here of all places?” he asked me softly after she had gone.

  “My mother needed a change.” I knew I was being vague, but talking about what had happened always made me feel bad. Like I was searching for someone to feel sorry for our situation.

  “Care to elaborate?” he asked as the waitress brought out drinks.

  “My stepfather was in the army. On my seventeenth birthday he was told that they were sending him overseas.” I felt my eyes getting heavy and knew I was about to cry. “He didn’t come back.”

  “Oh. I am so sorry for your loss.”

  “For the most part my mother’s done well with it. She just decided it was time to move on. There was nothing holding us in El Paso anymore.” I had to look away.

  “Sometimes we just have to move on.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his. “Sometimes we have to start a new life to make meaning of our last one.”

  I stared at our hands. “You sound as if you have been through something similar,” I suggested.

  “I have been around my fair share of death, too.”

  He wasn’t letting my hand go. In fact, he wasn’t even acting like he wanted to.

  “Then you know it sucks. These soldiers show up at your door in uniform, all solemn-looking. I had never seen this particular guy before. Trust me, I spent a lot of time on base with my stepfather. It just didn’t seem fitting to send someone he didn’t know.” I felt like I was rambling, but it was nice to have someone to talk to. “He just shook my mother’s hand, told her he was sorry.”

  “I’ve seen it in movies, just never had it happen to me personally.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m glad you came here, anyway.”

  “I am, too.” I glanced at our hands again. He was tracing the outline of my thumb with his. It felt nice.

  He paid for our meal while I was in the bathroom. When I came out he was already standing by the door waiting for me.

  “Where to now?” he asked, obviously wanting to spend more time with me.