Amber Frost (15 page)

When Clarke asked me if I’d like to hang out after school on Friday before my parents came to his house for dinner, I agreed. After all, I didn’t have anything else to do. And perhaps Clarke’s company would distract me enough that I wouldn’t be worrying over Sebastian – unlikely, but anything was possible. I was so lonely now that Sebastian wasn’t around that it was almost nice to listen to Clarke babble on about how smart, wonderful and talented he was. It was amusing and harmless, though I was careful not to encourage him too much.

“So why did Clarke phone today?” my mother asked at dinner that night. It was just the two of us in the dining room, my father was working late which was becoming more and more common. I had a strong suspicion he was deliberately avoiding my mother and maybe even me.

“He wanted to make plans for after school on Friday, before dinner,” I told her. “After all, it is the last day of school before the Winter Break – might as well celebrate,” I said unenthusiastically. Her thin brows lifted in surprise, she looked pleased.

“How lovely, you must be excited.”
She
certainly looked eager. “I must say Grace, I’m so pleased to see that you took our little talk to heart. I appreciate the effort you’ve been putting in lately – don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m glad to see you’ve been keeping your appearance up too… but where have you been getting your hair done, dear? Celeste says she hasn’t seen you in weeks.” I frowned, puzzled by my mother’s comment.

“I haven’t had my hair done,” I denied, automatically brushing my locks back from my face.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Grace. If you haven’t been getting your hair colored then why don’t you have any roots? It doesn’t matter anyway, I don’t really care that you’re not using Celeste anymore just as long as whoever’s doing your hair does a good job.” I nodded blankly. Why
didn’t
I have any roots? And why did my hair feel so soft and freshly trimmed and my nails were still smooth and perfectly shaped when I hadn’t set foot in a spa or salon since before I met Sebastian?
Sebastian
. He was the only possible explanation. Obviously I had been spending enough time with him that his strange ability to twist fate had started to affect me… but was this deliberate or incidental?

And so I had yet another question for Sebastian to add to my list. I made a futile attempt to speak with him again the following day, knowing it might be my last chance before school broke until the New Year. It was almost a half-hearted effort. I knew it was hopeless, knew I should just give up. The second I stepped towards him in English class, my fears were confirmed. Tanya herself blocked my way as she suddenly and randomly asked me how I thought I’d done on our English final. I’m not sure if she noticed the frustrated tears in my eyes as I answered, I didn’t care if she did. The bell for lunch rang as we were talking and Sebastian, without ever looking back, quickly strode from the room.

Again without Sebastian’s company, the day dragged by slowly and tediously. I wondered how I’d ever thought I was happy before I met him. I knew that I was miserable without him now. It was so strange to be able to watch him across the room, his back turned to me and the rest of the world – for him to be so close yet so infinitely far apart and unreachable.

In art class that afternoon, I sat and sketched him as he had his back to me – his strong shoulders, his slim yet muscular back, his dark, messy hair. It was my last class of the day so I didn’t even try to approach him. I didn’t want to ruin my last few moments with him before Winter Break, even if he was ignoring me. And so I sat and stared at his back in pathetic silence, memorizing every detail of him that I could capture until the bell abruptly rang and as a crowd of students between us rose from their chairs, he disappeared. A miserable lump began to rise in my throat.

“So did you want to follow me to my house? You can leave your car there and we’ll go do something,” Clarke suggested after school. He was walking me to my car, a habit he’d developed over the past few days and I simply hadn’t had the heart to discourage him. It was nice to know that someone wanted to be near me, even if it was a self-absorbed, conceited jerk like Clarke. No, that wasn’t fair, I scolded myself. Clarke had actually been a fairly good friend lately, a lot better than some.

“Follow you to your house? Why?” I hadn’t been listening to what he was talking about. Surprisingly, it didn’t seem to bother him that I was so distant. He seemed happy enough that I was accepting his company again.

“We made plans to hang out before dinner tonight, remember?”

“Oh…” I frowned, I’d almost forgotten. “I guess so,” I answered reluctantly. I felt a fresh wave of sadness as I remembered that I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, fiddling with them as we approached my car.

“It’ll be fun, Gracie. I’ll entertain you,” Clarke offered, grinning down at me.

“Sure.” I couldn’t quite muster any enthusiasm. Clarke tsked in exasperation. He grabbed my arm, abruptly turning me towards him.

“Grace, I don’t know what happened with you and your
friend
, but whatever he did to make you this upset – I’ll make him pay for it,” Clarke declared passionately, flexing his hands into fists as he spoke. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, a habit I’d picked up from Sebastian.

“Don’t worry about it Clarke. Leave Sebastian alone.” I scowled as I said his name, turning back towards my car to unlock the driver’s side door.

“Well, I guess there’s not much point in teaching him a lesson now anyway. He’ll be gone soon and he won’t be coming back next semester, right?”

“What?” I spun around, my keys clattering to the icy asphalt. Clarke eyed me uncertainly.

“He’s getting transferred to a different foster home, isn’t he? I just assumed his new foster family wouldn’t want to foot the bill for Craigflower…” he trailed off anxiously. “Grace, are you okay?”

“Where did you hear that?” I demanded.

“Uh…” he struggled to remember, obviously thrown off by my sudden intensity. “I think Cadence told me… yeah, that’s right. Cadence’s dad ran into Mr. Jenson at the court house and he told him that Sebastian was being placed with a different family. Cadence was talking about it at lunch today, weren’t you listening?” I ignored his last comment as I quickly bent to scoop up my keys, barely noticing the pain as I scraped my knuckles against the ground. I rushed to unlock my car, threw myself into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Clarke knocked on the glass as I fired up the engine, his expression one of confusion.

“Grace, what’s wrong?” he yelled through the window. I ignored him, throwing the shifter into reverse and slamming my foot down on the gas. I nearly hit another car; one of my classmates held down their horn as I peeled off in front of them.

My brain was on overload as I sped away from Craigflower. I knew I shouldn’t be driving when I was so worked up like this but what choice did I have? Sebastian was
leaving
and he wasn’t even going to tell me? He wasn’t even going to say goodbye? I didn’t think so. This had gone on long enough.

Luckily I’d dropped Sebastian off at the Jensons’ place several times. I found it easily enough today. I was surprised though when no strange disasters impeded or detoured me on my way to his house. The Jensons lived in a nice, Victorian-style home in Oak Bay. It was a fairly stylish neighborhood, expensive but not overly elite or ostentatious like where I lived. I’d never been further than the end of their driveway before but today I pulled all the way up to their house, parking right behind Sebastian’s motorcycle without hesitation. Good – he’s here, I thought. There’d be no avoiding me this time. I’d sit out in his driveway in protest if I had to, until he came out and talked to me. Of course, first I was going to try the more rational method of knocking on the front door.

I hurried impatiently along the paving stone path that led up to the Jensons’ house. There was a large, brass knocker on the front door, the style well-suited to the old-fashioned home. I rapped the knocker three times, fighting the urge to tap my foot impatiently as I waited. Within a few seconds, I heard the creaks of original hard-wood flooring announce the arrival of someone on the other side. The door squeaked as it slowly opened to reveal Mr. Jenson himself, a small smile on his face that was polite if not entirely welcoming.

“Hello, Grace,” he greeted me uncertainly.

“Hello, Mr. Jenson. I’ve come to see Sebastian,” I announced, as if it weren’t obvious.

“Yes, well, unfortunately he’s not available.” Mr. Jenson looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“That’s alright, I’ll wait until he is,” I firmly answered, stubbornly folding my arms across my chest. Mr. Jenson sighed.

“I’m sorry, Grace, but Sebastian would prefer not to speak with you at this time. Now please, I’m going to have to ask you to leave or else I’ll have no choice but to call your father,” he told me reluctantly. I almost felt badly for Mr. Jenson. That was another thing I wanted to ask Sebastian about; how exactly did he make the Jensons do what he wanted when he claimed he had no conscious control over others’ thoughts or actions? I had a strong hunch that they knew a lot more about Sebastian than I did.

“Sebastian needs to talk to me; he owes me answers,” I insisted.

“I’m sorry, Grace.” Mr. Jenson started to close the door.

“My hair has stopped growing,” I blurted out desperately. Mr. Jenson froze, the door halfway closed. He stared at me with his large, dull brown eyes. He looked tired. “It hasn’t grown since I met him,” I continued in a rush. “Please, I just need to talk to him.”

Mr. Jenson studied me wearily, his expression unreadable. The seconds dragged by as he silently debated. His expression never changed as he slowly stepped back and held the door open.

“He’s upstairs. Second door on the right,” he instructed quietly, gesturing to a beautifully restored, carved staircase behind him. I could hardly believe my luck.

“Thank you,” I whispered gratefully as I slipped past him and hurried into the house, taking the stairs two at a time. I hadn’t been within ten feet of Sebastian in days. No matter how angry or confused or hurt I was by him, I still felt nervous butterflies in my stomach as I walked down the sparsely decorated hall at the top of the stairs. I paused in front of the second door on the right debating whether I should knock or just go in? Just go in, I decided. I didn’t owe him any courtesies, not after the way he’d been treating me lately. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and then pushed the door open.

The room I entered was obviously his; his distinct taste was evident in every aspect. It was a large room, with little in the way of furniture. There was a double, four post bed with dark linens on it, a small writing desk, and two tall bookcases, filled with books and curious objects. The walls were light gray and completely bare, except for the wall over his bed where a familiar dark design in pen and ink, twisted across a piece of wrinkled, white drawing paper that had been carefully tacked to the wall; I felt a flicker of surprise as I recognized my drawing. My eyes moved on to the large, paned window with heavy curtains draped to each side where Sebastian stood with his back to me. Just the sight of his dark silhouette made my pulse quicken, the pain in my heart instantly eased by his presence. He spun around at the sound of his bedroom door opening, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief when he saw me walk in.

“Gracelynn,” he gasped. A small thrill of pleasure ran through me at hearing him say my name again. “…how?” he struggled, obviously trying to recover his composure.

“Apparently you wanted to see me before you left,” I remarked wryly. I calmly walked into his room, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. I was pleased with how nonchalant I sounded even though my heart was now pounding in my throat.

“Apparently,” he murmured, looking thoughtful. He crossed the room and quietly closed his bedroom door. He turned back to me slowly, warily, his back pressed up against the door. “How did you get in?” His expression was neutral once more but there was a small sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. That little sparkle gave me hope.

“I knocked on the front door.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. How did you convince Don to let you in?”

“Mr. Jenson?” I asked, innocently. Sebastian gave one curt nod. “I told him I needed to talk to you about why my hair hasn’t grown since I met you,” I said in a quiet, even voice though my hands trembled slightly as I spoke. I squeezed them tightly together in my lap, waiting tersely for his reaction.

“I suppose that would have gotten his attention.” For a moment, I thought I saw a smile twitch on his lips but then he was serious once more. “I’m sorry, Gracelynn. Your hair is already growing again now though – you’ll notice it even more after I’ve gone,” he reassured me. I stared at him in disbelief.

“Sebastian, you kiss me, then completely avoid and ignore me and now you’re planning on leaving me altogether – and you think I’m worried about my
hair
?” I demanded incredulously. “Do you really think I’m that shallow? That superficial?” He stood frozen in place by the door, looking completely perplexed and concerned by my vehement reaction.

“Of course I don’t think that but… haven’t you wondered what it means? You obviously know I’m to blame, aren’t you curious as to why?” he asked in a low voice.

“There are many things I’m curious about, I could list a hundred questions I’d like you to answer but no, that one is not first and foremost in my mind.”