Starcrossed: Perigee - A paranormal romance trilogy (2 page)

"Oh no you don't!" she snapped. "I just washed the floor. Go around the back to the kitchen. And wipe your feet - they're filthy!"

I sighed and made my way around the side of the house, breaking into a jog across the wet grass. My breath was still frosty in the cold morning air. If Uncle Tom and Gus were just starting their chores it must be about six. It was sacrilege being up this early on a Saturday. Now Aunt Janet knew I was up and about, she'd be ready to pounce on me with a long list of chores which would take a good portion of the day to complete. I'd made plans to go shopping in Craigsville with my friend Alison, which meant I needed to avoid running into my aunt again before I could escape by catching a lift into town with Uncle Tom.

My cousin Michael was on his way out the kitchen door as I went to open it. He looked at me in surprise.

"What are you doing up?!" His eyes took in my appearance. "Is that poop?"

I pushed past him. "Yes it is."

He followed me back inside. "What were you doing in the poop?"

"Rolling in it. I hear it's good for your complexion," I replied facetiously.

"Really?"

I laughed. "No, dummy. I was sleepwalking. All the way to the barn."

He tailed me as I headed up the stairs to my bedroom.

"Cool!" he said. "Did you know if you wake someone up when they're sleepwalking, they'll die?"

I threw him a cynical look. "Where'd you hear that?"

He shrugged. "I read it somewhere. We should try it. Next time, I'll wake you up, and if you die..."

I reached my bedroom door. "You shouldn't believe everything you read."

Michael was really into science. A mad scientist - he'd tried some crazy things. Although I was quite sure his sleepwalking theory was flawed, I wasn't about to offer myself up as a guinea pig for the benefit of science, however crackpot his hypothesis.

"If we try it then we'll know -"

"No thanks, I think I'll pass." I grinned and closed the door in his face.

My room was an unfamiliar mess. I'm a fairly tidy person but this morning my room was almost unrecognizable from its usual cluttered but ordered state. I found my jewelry box on the floor, its contents strewn across the room, the trash can beside my desk tipped over, and my lamp was dangling from the bedside table by its cable. Apparently I was a clumsy sleepwalker. Ignoring the mess for the time being, I took a long shower, threw my clothes into the washing machine then returned to my room.

I sat on the bed and wondered where to start. I figured I'd better begin with the bed - Aunt Janet was a stickler for bed making and she wouldn't appreciate the sheets and blankets hanging off the bed and strewn halfway across the floor. There was a strange smell in the room - a kind of faint rotten egg smell which I put down to residue from my smelly visit to collect clean clothes before my shower. I sniffed at the air and decided it was more like the burnt electricity smell which I was familiar with. I picked up my clock - an mp3 player dock which doubled as an alarm clock, expecting it to have totally blown, but it was still going. The time was wrong though - the digits 3:33 were blinking crazily. I switched it off at the power socket then turned it back on and it went haywire. Nothing unusual for me there - I don't know why I even bothered with it. I should have stuck to the old mechanical wind up one.

As long as I could remember I'd always had a strange effect on electrical stuff. Some days everything I touched would go berserk. Television screens and computer monitors went fuzzy until I knocked them into behaving. Cell phones, household appliances, even streetlights - anything electrical misbehaved when I came near. My teacher dreaded me walking into the computer lab. It was a running joke with my family and friends, and no one could tell me why it happened.

I gave up on the clock and went to open the window. A cool spring breeze moved through the room, dispelling the burnt odor. I shivered, but not from the cold. With the removal of the smell, the mood in the room shifted. I hadn't realized how oppressive it had been until after it was gone.

I took my time cleaning up my room, pottering about aimlessly between bouts of bustling activity; I was loathe to go down to the kitchen until Uncle Tom was ready to leave for town. Eventually, I figured it would be close to nine, and headed to the kitchen to find him. He was downing coffee, the local rural newspaper spread out on the old wooden table in front of him. I looked around cautiously for Aunt Janet. He grinned and grasped the coffee pot.

"She's pulling weeds in her vegetable garden." He knew me well.

I accepted the mug of steaming coffee he offered to me. My Uncle Tom was possibly my favorite person in the world. His patient, unhurried manner was comforting and he was so easy to chill with. He'd made it his role to defuse any arguments which might arise between Aunt Janet and me. He had the patience of a saint, and I wondered how he managed to put up with his surly wife. I tried to keep out of her way, particularly on Saturdays.

Michael and Luke obviously had the same goal. Usually at breakfast time they hung around like a pair of locusts devouring everything they could find in the fridge, but this morning they had made themselves scarce. Aunt Janet wouldn't be happy. It was best if I kept right away from the ranch.

"I don't suppose I could catch a lift with you into town this morning?" I asked, popping two pieces of bread into the toaster and pushing the lever down. As I feared it would, sparks emitted from the power point, and the appliance hissed, smoke spewing from the slots. I quickly pulled the plug.

Uncle Tom jumped up and took control of the toaster. "Err... let me do that for you. It looks like one of those days." I shrugged and grinned ruefully, backing away from the stricken appliance. He plugged in the toaster and pushed the lever down, and it worked perfectly. "So, what are your plans for today?"

"Shopping with Alison." I got the butter from the fridge, ignoring the flickering light and strange buzz coming from the fridge motor. "Which is why I need a lift..."

He placed my toast onto a plate then took a final swig of coffee and deposited the mug upside down in the sink. "Sure. Although you'll have to find your own way back - I'm not stopping in Craigsville. I've got business at the Junction."

By 'business', he meant talking and drinking with other local ranchers at Mallory's Steakhouse, the main watering hole in the next town along from Craigsville. Sometimes it was preceded by a stock sale, but usually the entire day was dedicated to social activities (in other words: drinking beer). It was a monthly ritual, and it was rare that any of the local ranchers would miss it. By the end of the alcohol-fueled day, most of the ranchers would be in no state to drive, and their long-suffering partners would arrive at Mallory's to drive them home. The Sunday after 'Business at the Junction' was always spent listening to Aunt Janet's complaints about drunken debauchery and how much of a nuisance it was to have to drive my uncle back to fetch his abandoned truck when he sobered up.

Making a small concession to Aunt Janet's chore list I stopped to wash the breakfast dishes.

When I'd finished I headed outside and found Uncle Tom was waiting for me in the pick-up. He was alone.

"Where's Gus?" Gus never missed 'business' at the Junction.

"He's not coming - Nell's making him talk to a condo salesman this morning. She wants them to retire to the coast, and she's hoping this guy is fast talking enough to budge Gus from the saddle."

This was surprising. Gus and Nell had lived in the cottage behind the barn for fifteen years. They were as much a fixture of Shadow Bend Ranch as the rickety farmhouse which sat comfortably at a bend of the Carson's Creek beneath the looming bulk of Shadow Mountain. I couldn't imagine them gone from here, and I certainly couldn't imagine Gus sitting by the beach with his feet up. He was almost glued to the saddle, and had been an indispensable help to Uncle Tom in the day to day running of the ranch. But Nell was a determined woman, and Gus adored her, so if she wanted to spend the rest of their days in retirement by the sea, she would probably get her way.

I spotted Aunt Janet walking from the vegetable garden beside the barn. "Let's get out of here!" I yelped.

Uncle Tom laughed and steered the pick-up truck down the drive, whisking me away to safety.

We pulled into the car park at Josie's Cafe, where I'd agreed to meet Alison. We were going to have a late breakfast/early lunch, then hit the stores - for Alison, who was always loaded with money, to buy up big, and me to just browse, as, money being in short supply at home, I was always broke aside from a few dollars I scrounged for my lunch.

"You'll call your aunt to come pick you up, right?" Uncle Tom said as he climbed out of the car.

I cocked my head and gave him an exasperated look. "Yeah, right, I'm sure she'd love to drive all the way over here to pick me up. Don't worry about me - I'll find a lift from someone."

He scratched his ear, his brow creased in exasperation. "She won't mind."

"You know that's not true."

We grinned at each other - who was he kidding?

"Call her anyway. You can always put your fingers in your ears all the way home." His voice was light, but there was a hint of genuine concern. He was both proud and disturbed by my independence. He knew the reason behind it.

I grabbed his arm and steered him toward his truck. "I'll be fine - really. Go, drink your beer, talk, brag, whatever guy things you all do there."

As I ushered him to the car he fished his wallet from his pocket. Pressing two fifty dollar bills into my hand, he smiled at me. "Get yourself something nice."

"No! This is too much!" I protested, trying to hand him back the bills. He pushed the money back at me, then turned and headed to the truck.

"Spend it - or else!" he called over his shoulder. When he reached the truck, he stopped and dipped his battered Stetson in a small salute of goodbye. "It'll make me happy," he said with a grin. Driving away in the rattling pick-up, he waved again out the open window. I waved back and pocketed the money with a guilty conscience.

As I turned and headed for the cafe, it struck me a teenage girl being
forced
to spend money was pretty bizarre. At that moment, I had no idea life was about to get much weirder.

* * * * *

Josie's Cafe was actually run by an old man called Sid. He was the stereotypical overweight, sweaty fry cook you often see in movies. I'd witnessed Sid wipe his sweaty face with a tea towel, then dry one of his pots with the same sweaty towel straight after. Unfortunately, Josie's was the only eatery in town that opened before lunch, so when we needed to meet up for a meal, my friends and I had no choice but to stop there. We were careful not to order from the hot menu though, and usually settled for milkshakes and pie, which was served by much more hygienic waitresses.

Alison was waiting for me in one of the booths.

"You look like crap," she said cheerily. "Those bags under your eyes look like testicles!" Her sense of humor was rather caustic but her jokes rarely bothered me.

"I didn't sleep well last night. In fact, I sleepwalked out to the barn and slept on the ground all night. My back is killing me."

Alison screwed up her nose and gestured toward the cafe counter.

"I've already ordered for us - vanilla milkshake and apple pie?"

I thanked her and slumped back in my seat. Now, sitting still, I realized just how tired I was. I hoped I could last the distance with Alison - she was relentless in her pursuit of bargains. She prattled on about clothes until our food arrived. I sat, half listening feeling my eyelids grow heavy.

"Jeez you really are a bag of fun today."

I stirred a lump of unblended ice cream around the top of my milkshake.

"Sorry, I think I should have stayed in bed."

Alison grunted. "Fat chance of that - doesn't your aunt whip you like a slave on Saturdays?"

I grimaced, "Not just Saturdays."

The bell attached to the front door of the cafe tinkled, and I looked up to see Jenny, another friend from school. Spotting us, she headed over and I shuffled across the seat so she could sit down.

"I thought you had to work today?" Alison asked. Jenny had a part time job at the local veterinary clinic, a job she loved as she was planning to study veterinary science when she left school. She shook her head and her red ringlets bounced about her face.

"Joe is cutting back my hours. With that new vet in Morrisbank, business is a bit slow - I'm only working every other week now."

The door bell jingled again, and Alison groaned as she realized it was Steven Hornesby entering the cafe.

"Don't look now," she said to me, "but loverboy has just entered the building."

I slapped her hand and hissed 'shh.'

His eyes lit up when he spotted me, and he headed for our booth. He made a point of staring at the empty spot next to Alison, until she relented and slid over. He sat down, uninvited.

Steven was never one for noticing social niceties. A loner at school, ultra intelligent - perhaps what you would term a typical 'nerd', and he was picked on quite a bit. I just found it sad, and tried to be friendly whenever he was around. He mistook my friendliness for something else though, and now he had a crush on me.

"So, ladies, what are you up to today?"

Alison rolled her eyes. "Nothing you would be interested in."

I nudged her leg underneath the table. "We're clothes shopping."

"You should head to the supermarket Lucy, buy yourself some garbage bags."

We all looked at him blankly. I lifted an eyebrow in query.

"You'd look good even wearing just a garbage bag. Save yourself some money." He chuckled to himself, obviously pleased at his 'joke'.

"Right..." I said. It wasn't really funny; the way he said it was actually kind of creepy. Alison groaned and Jenny looked down at a spot on the table, trying to hold in a laugh. Jokes that fall flat are incredibly uncomfortable, but Steven was oblivious to its failure.

The moment was mercifully interrupted by the arrival of the waitress. Jenny ordered a milkshake and pie, and Steven ordered what seemed to be the whole fry menu. I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted he was in the mood for a Josie Burger and fries (and a salmonella side-plate). Alison and Jenny stifled their gag reflexes, and even the waitress raised an eyebrow and shook her head as she walked away to arrange the order.