Riley's Torment, A Moon's Glow Novel #2 (38 page)

By the time I
was finished getting ready for school, my mom had already left.
There was a note on the kitchen table telling me that she had taken
Alex to school and that I had better not be late. There was a
threat in there too, but I wasn’t worried. She was pretty
lenient—well, only when my dad was away on business. She was always
joking with him that someone had to be the grown-up. My dad was
more like a kid than an adult, more like a friend than a father. My
brother and I were lucky in the parent department. Yes, my mother
was a little more responsible than my dad, but we didn’t really
have many rules. She trusted us to make the right choices. She was
very good with guilt, so before I did something stupid, I would
think of the guilt trip she’d lay out…and change my mind.

I took a juice
box and a granola bar from the pantry, grabbed my coat off the
hook, and headed out the door.

It was hot and
sunny out and I instantly regretted the coat. Shaking it off, I ran
to my car, a used silver-blue, two-door SUV I got for my sixteenth
birthday. It was a bribe from my mother to make me go to Hadley
Academy. Even though I only lasted at the snooty school for six
months, I was able to keep the bribe. It was an older car, but that
was okay, it had character. So what if the passenger side door
stuck on rainy days, and it sometimes smelled of pipe tobacco? It
was all part of the charm, and besides, it was free. I paid for the
insurance and gas with the money I made working at the multiplex.
With only a few shifts a week, I didn’t make a lot. But I was
pretty good at saving.

As I drove, I
noticed that only a few leaves had changed. It was the second week
of September, and this beautiful weather wasn’t going to last
long.

I arrived at my
school, Hamilton High, a large dull-gray stone building that
slightly resembled a prison. Considering my last school, I was okay
with its appearance.

Parking in the
student parking lot wasn’t always easy, since I was usually late. I
was often left with the spot furthest from the entrance, and today
was no different.

Rushing to the
front doors, I noticed my mom’s car, a candy-red convertible. It
was her gift to herself after she turned forty. She worked here,
unfortunately, as the vice principal. It’s not as bad as it sounds,
having a mother that works at your school. With a building this
size, I didn’t see her that often. This was my last year of high
school anyway. In the fall, I was heading to NYU for their teaching
program; I was going to become a music teacher. I had been playing
the piano since I was five. My mother’s dream for me was to follow
in her footsteps and become a teacher, so I thought combining our
dreams was a good compromise.

I was running
from my locker, after having put my bag inside, when the bell rang.
Crap. I was late again. I’m not good with mornings, so this happens
every so often.

Just as I
turned the corner heading to my first period English class, I
slammed into someone. Our sneakers squeaked against the white tile
as we collided. A pile of books fell to the floor in a heap.

I bent down to
pick them up. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, but the words were
barely out of my mouth before the person took off down the
hall.

It was a guy,
and he had picked up his books so fast, I didn’t even see his face.
All I noticed was the back of his head as I watched him run off.
His hair was shaggy and brown, and he was quite a bit taller than
my five foot five. The gray sweatshirt and jeans he wore weren’t
helpful at identifying him either, since a lot of kids in school
dressed that way.

“Miss Samson,
is there a reason you’re loitering in the hallway when class is
starting?”

Turning toward
the voice, I saw Mr. Henderson standing in front of his classroom.
He was short and stout with a receding hair line that made his
forehead look gigantic. And since his glasses always fell to the
bridge of his nose, no matter how many times he pushed them back, a
few kids made fun of him. I, however, would never do such a
thing.

“You wouldn’t
want me to report you to your mother, would you?” he said in a
snarly tone.

“I’m going,” I
mumbled as I took off in the direction of my first class.

I wasn’t that
late. The kids were just getting settled, opening their books and
getting out their pens, when I snuck into my seat.

“You’re late,”
Derrick, one of my best friends, whispered from behind me. Miss
Reynolds, our English teacher, was just starting her lesson and
didn’t notice him talking. “We’re meeting Emma outside today for
lunch,” he whispered again. I nodded my head, focusing on the rest
of the lesson.

My next class
was my favorite, music, and part of the reason I liked it so much
was the teacher, Miss. Fitzgerald. She had long auburn hair that
was always pulled back in a braid, and she constantly wore long
flowing skirts with peasant blouses. I once heard Mr. Henderson
call her a Bohemian.

For the last
week we had been studying a piece she composed. It was complex and
challenging to learn; luckily, I loved a challenge. I was to play
the piano for the piece and was excited for the night we would get
to perform for the school and our parents. We were working on our
own today, each of us learning our parts.

I was lost in
the music when Miss Fitzgerald came over and stood beside me. My
fingers stilled as I glanced up at her. “Wonderful, Sarah, you're
doing great. I can’t wait to hear the whole piece. Julliard will be
lucky to have you,” she said, smiling. Her arms were crossed in
front of her as she leaned on the edge of the piano.

“Thank you,
Miss Fitzgerald. But I doubt I’ll get a job there after
college.”

“Sarah, you
could be a concert pianist, and yet you choose to teach. They
should welcome you with open arms.”

I blushed,
unable to hide my excitement at her words, even though I couldn’t
get my hopes up. I had always wanted to teach there, but I knew it
was a difficult position to acquire. I would just have to wait and
see.

Her words put
me in a good mood, and after class was over, I headed to my locker,
humming the tune I had been playing.

I had to ditch
my books and get my lunch. As I fumbled with my locker door, my
arms loaded with books, a blue spiral notebook slipped out of my
fingers and landed on the floor with a thump.

I bent down to
pick it up and realized it wasn’t my name scrawled on the front, it
was Lucas Tate’s. His loopy handwriting was barely legible. Why did
I have his book? I shoved it into my locker and ran outside to meet
my friends; I’d figure it out later.

They were at
one of the far picnic tables. Since it was still warm outside, a
lot of the tables that were placed throughout the schoolyard were
occupied with other students that wanted to enjoy the sunshine.

I strolled
toward them, in no hurry, enjoying the heat of the sun on my face
and the scent of grass as the janitor chugged along the football
field on his riding lawn mower. The low purr of his motor, mixed
with the temperature, made it feel like springtime. But we weren’t
so lucky; it was only a matter of time before the air would turn
cold. “Hey, guys” I said, sitting down next to Emma.

Derrick was on
the other side, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been
staring into each other’s eyes. They both had a huge crush on each
other, but neither of them would admit it. The only reason I could
think of for them to hold back their feelings was that we all had
been best friends forever. Whether that was the reason or not, I
had no idea.

“I heard you
were late again,” Emma mumbled, her mouth full of ham sandwich.

I opened
my lunch, taking out the pepperoni and cheese sandwich, saving the
apple and caramel snack cake for later. “I wasn’t that late, and
besides, it wasn’t my fault. I bumped into someone and had to pick
up my books.” I didn’t mention that I was running late before that
happened.

Derrick opened
his mouth to speak, except I wasn’t listening. I just realized why
I had Lucas’ book. It was him that I bumped into. That explained
the fast departure.

Lucas Tate was
his twin brother. And by his, I mean Logan Tate, the most popular
guy in school, although nobody could figure out why. He was kind of
a jerk, but got away with it because of his looks. He was the type
of guy you could stare at all day, but hoped wouldn’t speak. He was
also the boy who starred in my dream last night.

Emma waved her
hand in front of my face. “What are you thinking about?”

Snapping out of
my own thoughts, I looked over at her. “I just figured out who it
was I bumped into this morning.”

Derrick glanced
at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, you just
figured it out? How could you not know, were your eyes closed?” He
smirked at his own joke.

I blinked at
him. “Ah…no, but he ran off before I saw who it was. When I was
putting my books away, I realized I had an extra one, with Lucas
Tate’s name on it.”

Emma’s eyes
widened. “Well, that explains it.” She looked away from us as
Martin Macpherson, star quarterback and the object of my
six-month-long crush in tenth grade, rushed by, chasing after a
fellow team member, Rudy Myer, who cradled a football. She gave me
a knowing glance as my cheeks heated from habit more than actual
interest, and then continued. “He never talks to anyone.”

She was right.
Lucas was Logan’s twin brother, but they were nothing alike. Logan
loved to be the center of attention while Lucas went out of his way
to avoid it. The only people I ever saw him with were his two best
friends, Andy Taylor and Kyle Roberts. They were good guys. I had a
few classes with them, and we’ve talked some.

Lucas was
different in another way from his brother. He wore glasses and kept
his coffee-colored hair long, almost reaching his shoulders, as if
he didn’t care what it looked like. Logan’s was always cut short
and styled to perfection, and he always dressed in the latest
styles. Lucas, however, wore sweatshirts and jeans almost every
day.

I was deep in
thought when I heard Derrick’s voice. “What is wrong with girls in
this school?”

“What are you
talking about?” Emma asked, tossing back her long red curls and
batting her thick lashes over her olive-green eyes. Why didn’t
Derrick see when she was flirting?

“Look at
Allison Morey over there flirting with Logan. He treats people like
crap, and stupid girls like her still hang all over him, just
because he’s a pretty boy.” He shook his head. “I just don’t get
it.”

While he was
ranting, I glanced over to where Logan was sitting with his
friends, and sure enough, there were a few girls flaunting
themselves at him.

“Don’t ask us,
you don’t see me or Sarah over there, do you?” Emma defended us as
girls who went to this school. I really couldn’t tell them that I
was dreaming about him after this. It was true what they were
saying, and I was not interested in Logan at all. Well, only to
look at maybe. But why would I dream about him?

“Oh my God,
Sarah. I forgot to tell you.” Her green eyes were alight with
excitement. “Guess who I saw this weekend when I was shopping in
Langton with my mom.”

I stared at
her, my mind blank. I had no idea who it could be. “The
president?”

She chuckled,
waving her sandwich at me. “No, dummy. Stephanie.”

Just the sound
of her name gave me the chills. “Lucky you.” I grinned, thinking
about the last time I saw her at the beach. My brown hair was still
short after my unwanted cut, but styled in a cute spiky bob. My
friends and I were enjoying a day of sun. Her mouth popped open in
shock when she noticed me. Derrick, who knew about what had
happened, draped his arm around me and whispered in my ear as
though we were a couple. Of course we weren’t—he was my best
friend—but she didn’t have to know that. A few of his buddies were
also there, dressed only in swimsuits, showing off their tanned
muscular bodies.

To her, it
looked like I was surrounded by three hunky guys all vying for my
attention. So I wasn’t surprised that she stared at me coldly,
shooting daggers in my direction. I just smiled and waved at her,
making her so angry, she stomped off the beach with her puppets
following her.

“Who’s
Stephanie?” Derrick asked, but before I answered, his eyes widened.
“Isn’t she that witch who cut your hair?”

Since he caught
me with my mouth full, I just nodded.

“You really
need to get back at her.” He shook his head, staring down at his
soda can.

I swallowed.
“Why, she’s a spoiled rich snob. I don’t care what she thinks.” I
took a sip of my drink. “Besides, wouldn’t that be stooping to her
level?”

“Who cares, she
deserves it,” he shot back at me. Emma and I exchanged glances as
he creased his brows in thought. “You know what you should do?”

I chuckled,
never having seen this side of him before. “What?” I asked.

“Dye her hair
green or her skin blue. Hell, a little hair removal in her shampoo
bottle would do her some good.”

Who knew he
could be so vindictive, and utterly girlish? All that was missing
from his suggestions was hair pulling. I raised an eyebrow instead
of answering. He shrugged. “So I watch too many cheesy chick
flicks, it’s your fault.”

Emma laughed at
him then turned to me. “So Sarah, what are you going to do about
Lucas’ book?”

Derrick glanced
at her and answered for me. “What’s the big deal, just go up and
tell him that you have it. He’s sitting right over there.” He
gestured with his hand. I looked over to where he pointed. Lucas
was sitting with Andy and Kyle two tables away. I hoped he hadn’t
heard us talking about him.