Amber Frost Read online

  “I’m not depressed,” I quickly denied with a scowl. “I was just doodling – it’s garbage really.” I started to scrunch up the paper but he put his hand down, firmly holding the drawing in place.

  “See?” he said as he pushed up the sleeve of his white school shirt. A black tattoo that appeared to start at his hand snaked up the length of his arm, curving around his forearm and disappearing beneath his shirtsleeve. The lines of it were thick and black, twisting into an intricate pattern of spirals around the shape of his lean muscles. It was very similar to my drawing, as if it had been formed by the same hand. Some of the lines and pattern seemed to be of exactly the same design. A small gasp escaped my lips while goose bumps popped up all over my arms. It wasn’t just similar – it was the same, I realized. I stared up at him in confusion. His eyes twinkled back at me mysteriously.

  “That’s so weird,” I blurted out, my voice hushed and shocked.

  He laughed, a light and musical sound. “You have no idea,” he answered. His eyes bore down into mine, the color so dark it was completely unidentifiable now.

  I sharply looked away from him, sliding my drawing out from under his arm, careful not to look too closely at his tattoo again. I scrunched the paper up into a ball and tossed it into the nearby garbage can, forcing myself to calm down, to appear nonchalant. There’s an explanation for this – there must be an explanation, I chanted to myself.

  “I guess I must have seen your tattoo before,” I said casually though I wasn’t sure that I entirely believed myself. What else could possibly explain it though? I briskly rubbed my arm where goose bumps still stood.

  “Perhaps.”

  I frowned. I must have seen his tattoo before. I probably just didn’t remember as he wasn’t the type I usually took notice of. He was so obviously different; definitely not my kind of guy.

  He continued to stare down at me with curious, dark eyes.

  “You seem too old for just seventeen,” he suddenly commented. His brow creased into a puzzled frown as if he hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

  “That’s because I’m not seventeen – I’m eighteen,” I answered slowly, wondering what he meant. I had intended to end the conversation then and there but there was something about his confused and doubtful expression that drove me to further explain. “I did a year exchange in Germany, so I’m behind a grade.” Sebastian cocked his head to one side as if questioning my words. “I know I look young but I am eighteen,” I insisted, fighting the vague sense of annoyance that was stirring within me.

  “No, that’s not it. There’s something about your eyes… you must have an old soul,” he mused softly, leaning in towards me as he spoke. His words caught me off guard. I found myself suddenly unable to look away as I stared back into the dark, swirling depths of Sebastian’s eyes; there was something familiar there, something that beckoned.

  “You have an old soul too,” I blurted without thinking. Sebastian’s amused chuckle broke through my trance. I tore my gaze from his, suddenly embarrassed and slightly annoyed. I knew I shouldn’t still be talking to this boy; I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get caught up in his bizarre games. “Whatever. I have work to do,” I dismissed him. I tried to ignore him but he made no move to leave. He remained, silently staring down at me.

  “Do you mind if I move over here so I can work by you?” he asked.

  “Sorry, but I’d rather work alone,” I answered quickly, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice.

  “Really?” He sounded amused again, his lilting voice doubtful.

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose the period is almost over,” he conceded, again not seeming to notice my unfriendly tone. “Will you sit with me tomorrow? I usually work over there.” He nodded with his head to a desk near the windows at the back of the art room. I frowned, confused again. If he usually worked by the windows, how could I possibly not have noticed him before? This boy was making me feel on edge.

  “No, thank you,” I answered firmly. He laughed at my rejection.

  “You will,” he answered, confidently but without a trace of cockiness. I looked up at him then, completely confused by his reaction. I felt like my head was spinning.

  “What makes you stay that?” I tried my best to give him a hard look.

  He shrugged, still looking amused. He pursed his lips together as if fighting a smile.

  “Why don’t you explain it to me tomorrow? I don’t know why you’ll change your mind, but you will nonetheless.” He said it pleasantly, not a hint of mocking to his tone, just the gentle lilt of his curious accent.

  I stared at him as if he were insane. I didn’t know how to respond.

  “See you tomorrow, Gracelynn.”

  Irrationally, I felt a glow of pleasure at the way he addressed me. I liked the way he said my names together, although I wondered why he would call me that when the rest of the school just knew me as Grace.

  Another friendly smile spread across his face, his cheek dimpling. He really was quite good-looking but so very, very strange. There was absolutely no way I would be sitting with him tomorrow. Sebastian was definitely not my kind of person. I shouldn’t want anything to do with him or his strange, dark tattoo. I silently cursed myself for allowing my mind to wander and produce the curious, twisted drawing in the first place. If it weren’t for that stupid, meaningless doodle, Sebastian might never have approached me. I would be sketching a happy, sunny landscape scene and my day would be uninterrupted by this weird, overly-forward boy. I should have stuck to generic. Generic was safe; generic was me.

  Sebastian grinned once more before turning and walking back towards his seat just as the bell rang. I couldn’t believe the period was over already. I must have been even more absorbed in my drawing and thoughts than I had realized, completely losing all sense of time.

  As I packed up my things and began to leave the art room, I couldn’t help but glance over to the windows quickly. The desks there were all empty, Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. I felt annoyed and still quite confused. The whole encounter had been so bizarre, so sudden and unexpected. I was left feeling strangely dazed, almost disoriented as I tried to recall and make sense of the conversation. I was still puzzling over it when Clarke caught up with me in the hallway that led back to the main building. He threw his arm around my shoulders as he swaggered up beside me, immediately demanding my attention and interrupting my thoughts.

  “Hey, babe! How was art?” he asked, flashing me a smile that would stop most girls’ hearts. Mine didn’t falter for a second, though I knew it should.

  “Fine… strange actually,” I admitted with a slight frown. He didn’t seem to hear me, didn’t notice the edge to my voice. I knew he’d only asked out of courtesy; he didn’t really care about my answer.

  “I’ve got rugby practice after school today. We’re playing Brentwood on Thursday – we’re going to crush them. Coach thinks we’ve got a good chance of winning provincials this year, mostly due to me. He says I’m the best player he’s seen in years,” Clarke gloated, puffing up his chest.

  “Uh huh,” I replied absently, absorbed in my own thoughts. For some reason I couldn’t get my encounter with Sebastian out of my head. He was so strange. Why had he seemed so confident that I would sit with him tomorrow? How could he possibly think that someone like me would be interested in having anything to do with someone like him? And the strange tattoo he had revealed to me – why had I been doodling such a similar design? It was very peculiar, unnerving in fact.

  “Grace? Gracie! You’re not even listening! What’s up with you today, babe?” Clarke demanded, his handsome features pulling down into a sulky pout.

  I knew I should apologize. I knew it was important to keep Clarke happy, to be the girl he wanted me to be but for some reason, I could no longer remember why.

  “I’m just having a weird day,” I confessed. He frowned at this pronouncement; it was unlike me to complain. “A boy was talking to me in art class today and he was… strange.
He just… weirded me out a bit,” I struggled to explain.

  “Who was it?” Clarke demanded. He suddenly seemed interested, a jealous gleam to his dark brown eyes. I hesitated before answering, reluctant to cause trouble.

  “Sebastian Caldwood,” I answered, carefully studying his reaction. He surprised me by laughing.

  “Oh, Sebastian. I should have guessed,” he said with a smirk. He sounded relieved. “Yeah, he is a weird guy, keeps to himself mostly though.”

  “Who is he? Why haven’t I ever noticed him before?”

  “He’s a nobody, less than a nobody – a foster kid,” he said, with obvious disgust. “His foster parents are both human rights lawyers, the Jensons I think. It’s ridiculous that they waste so much money sending someone like him to Craigflower. He’s not even their son and he’s obviously not the usual type accepted here.”

  “I noticed that,” I murmured in agreement.

  “Forget him. If he’s bothering you, I’ll take care of it.”

  “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” I quickly reassured him.

  Clarke nodded, easily accepting my words without looking or listening too deeply. He returned to his previous tale of rugby glory and this time I made an effort to pay attention, making appropriate impressed sounds at all the right places and gazing up at him with what I hoped were adoring eyes. My mind was elsewhere though, my thoughts spinning about in dark, twisting circles.

  Chapter Two - Spare Change

  By the time Clarke and I made our way across campus to the dining hall, I was completely over the strange encounter from that morning. Well, not completely over it but I was practiced enough at suppressing my true emotions and thoughts that no one would ever have been able to guess that something was bothering me.

  I looped my arm through Clarke’s as we approached the huge, carved oak doors to the dining hall. I knew how much he enjoyed making an entrance, how pleased he was to show me off as I hung from his arm, the perfect accessory. I ran a quick hand through my long, wavy hair ensuring it was smooth. He paused in the doorway to smile down at me.

  “You look beautiful today,” he murmured as he brushed his lips against my cheek.

  “I think I’ve heard that one before,” I answered with a small smile. “But thank you.”

  He grinned at my response, probably thinking I was being coy and flirtatious. The compliment meant little to me. I knew I should be flattered but today I felt almost offended to hear his generic words. What was interesting about being beautiful anyway? Wasn’t there more to me than that? I gave my head a little shake, trying to push back my doubtful thoughts.

  “Shall we?” He gestured to the open door.

  “Lead the way,” I replied with a brief and somewhat forced smile.

  He guided me into the massive dining hall, marching forward with his head held high as I glided along beside him. Many heads turned as we strolled down the main aisle between the long wooden benches and tables. I tried to ignore the jealous stares and admiring looks I received but I wasn’t quite as good at it today as I usually was. It was a relief when we reached our usual table at the side of the hall – it was the best spot; furthest from the noisy kitchens but close enough to one of the four fireplaces to be warm and cozy. It was also central enough that we could still be admired by our peers.

  “Hi Clarke, Grace,” Tanya greeted us as we approached. Her smile for Clarke was warm and a little too friendly but her aqua-marine eyes were icy when she reluctantly glanced my way. Tanya was tall, with short, perfectly-straight blonde hair cut to her jaw. She had smooth, porcelain skin and plump, pink lips. Until I had started at Craigflower, she’d been considered the prettiest girl in school; and she was obviously aware of the fact that she had been usurped. I forced out a smile.

  “Hi, Tanya,” I answered, sitting down beside her. Tanya was one of my new, popular friends. It was painfully obvious that she didn’t really like me but we still duly sat together and called one another ‘friend’. After all, we were both beautiful, rich and came from well-known families – our kind always stuck together and kept up appearances at all costs.

  All the members of our group came from high-society families. Our parents were all doctors, lawyers, politicians and CEO’s. We were all wealthy, well-dressed and attractive and we ruled the school. Clarke would probably be considered the leader of our group; he was the reason why I’d been brought into the fold so easily. Newcomers weren’t typically accepted so easily or quickly. There were seven of us, including me; the numbers had been even until I’d arrived.

  The three boys were Clarke and his two best friends, Graham, a tall, blonde beefcake with dimples and few brains, and Adam, short and wiry with dark curly hair and striking green eyes. Then there were the three girls. Tanya was blonde, blue-eyed, and wickedly curvaceous. Rebecca was a drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian girl with shoulder length, silky black hair and warm, bronze skin. And Cadence was brown-haired, brown-eyed, pretty but surprisingly plain in contrast to the rest. Cadence’s father was a judge and her mother a famous surgeon. She’d been brought into the group because of her family’s immense wealth and powerful reputation. Apparently her family’s prestige made up for her lack of beauty.

  And then there was me.

  I greeted my friends with quick smiles and nods as I sat down, hoping I didn’t look as uncomfortable as I felt. I wondered if I would ever truly be comfortable with my new friends but then again, it didn’t really matter.

  Clarke sat down beside me and took my hand in his. Other than that one small gesture, he barely acknowledged my presence. He was much more interested in discussing Thursday’s upcoming rugby game with the other boys. I turned my attention to the girls’ conversation.

  “Look at what Carmen did to her uniform. Ugh, the whole punk rock, loose-tie thing is so two years ago,” Tanya sneered. The other two girls turned to stare. They giggled and sneered mercilessly as Carmen’s face went red. I didn’t look; I didn’t care. I began idly tracing a line in the grain of the wood table top as I waited for lunch to be served.

  “Did any of you see Charlotte Hill this morning?” Rebecca asked. “She got a tattoo on the weekend on the back of her neck and tried to cover it up with a big band-aid but Mr. Pearson noticed and sent her home,” she informed us in scandalized tones. I looked up, their conversation suddenly attracting my interest.

  “Ew, she got a tattoo?” Tanya asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  “What’s it of?” Cadence inquired, her soft voice curious. Tanya frowned at her disapprovingly.

  “Does it matter?” Tanya challenged. Cadence blushed, squirming uncomfortably under Tanya’s piercing, blue-eyed glare.

  “I saw Sebastian Caldwood’s tattoo in art this morning,” I volunteered cautiously. “It was really strange – a weird, black design that wrapped up and around his forearm.” I directed my words to Cadence who disliked me the least of the three. She gave me a hesitant smile.

  “Who’s Sebastian Caldwood?” Rebecca demanded impatiently. Even Tanya, who usually ignored me when I spoke, looked at me with a mixture of irritation and confusion in her expression.

  “Are you talking about Sebastian again?” I hadn’t realized Clarke had been listening.

  “We were talking about tattoos,” I said by way of explanation.

  “Yeah, Sebastian’s got a bunch,” Adam chimed in. “He tries to keep them hidden but I saw his tats in the locker room once. They’re all really dark and weird looking – can’t really remember what they were of though, just that they creeped me out.”

  “That kid’s a freak,” Graham snorted.

  “Yes,” I agreed quickly. Tanya was eyeing me suspiciously. “He is weird.”

  I tried to appear dismissive and nonchalant but goose bumps had risen up and down my arms. If Sebastian usually kept his tattoos hidden, how was it that I’d known the design?

  Just then lunch arrived, interrupting my thoughts and our conversation. The serving staff placed the steaming hot plates in fro
nt of us, automatically serving our table first. Even the staff were aware of the social hierarchy at Craigflower.

  I stared at the roast beef, potatoes and vegetables. No one commented when I only picked at the food on my plate. The girls in our group didn’t eat very much anyway – we weren’t expected to. I suddenly felt the urge to be alone, to escape my ‘friends’ and take a quick break from the charade, if only for a moment.

  “Clarke, do you have a toonie? I want to buy a coke – I need some caffeine.”

  Clarke smiled, happy for the opportunity to buy me anything. He enjoyed feeling like he spoiled me. He put down his fork and reached into his pocket, tossing a handful of change onto the table.

  “Help yourself, babe,” he replied, turning back to his meal.

  “Thanks,” I murmured. I picked out a loonie and four quarters and rose from the table, making my way to the vending machines that were at the very back of the dining hall. Heads turned as I walked down the aisle between the tables. I picked up my pace, eager to be away from the judging eyes. I lowered my gaze as I walked, allowing my hair to fall into my face and I hid behind the locks.

  It was a relief when I reached the vending machines that were partially hidden from the rest of the hall by the base of the stairs. I took my time, slowly putting the coins into the slot one by one. When I hit the button for a Coke, SOLD OUT flashed across the little digital screen. I sighed in irritation. I hadn’t really wanted a Coke anyway, just a moment to be alone. I could still dawdle a while before going back. I slowly pressed the ‘coin return’ button.

  My change clanged noisily as it dropped out of the machine, unexpectedly shooting from the small change tray and spinning onto the shiny, hardwood floor. I bent down to pick the coins up, carefully folding my plaid, school skirt under my legs as I crouched down. My hand froze though when I noticed how the coins had landed. A chill ran through me, my blood ran cold as I gaped at the floor. All four quarters stood carefully balanced on their sides. I numbly watched as the loonie’s revolutions began to slow. I could barely breathe as the last coin spun slower, slower, slower. Time seemed to stop as it came to a halt. All five coins were now precariously balanced on their sides. I could feel my hands shaking.