The Seventh Sister, A Paranormal Romance (6 page)

We’re running out of time. I see my house ahead, a sprawling one-story dwelling that sits far from the road. For the first time ever I see how excessive it looks from here. It has five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a great room, living room, den, office, dining room and a humongous kitchen that rarely gets used past making salads, sandwiches and bowls of cereals for breakfast by me. It’s a lot of living space for only two people, and one’s hardly ever home. The sight of it makes me feel something and finally I’m able to say with that something is.

“I’m afraid, Derek,” I confess and get the chills. “I don’t want to be alone.”

We stop in front of my house. “You never have been alone. Just call for me and I’ll be here.”

Something tells me that he means it.

Chapter 4

The Loner

It’s the next morning, and I’m awakened by the sound of the alarm buzzing. As usual my head is foggy, and I struggle against the urge to curl up under the blankets and go back to sleep. I mean, I have “Life Blood” and may not be human. These two facts should excuse me from having to ever show up for high school again. Instead of giving into what I want, I slide out of bed to prepare for the day.

I rifle through the closet taking my time to find something a little more than plain. It occurs to me that I’m split between two feelings, the hate for sitting in class all day, especially physics with Riley and Morgan, who I pushed the other night, and the excitement of seeing Derek Firth again.

After sleeping on the talk we had yesterday, it feels like everything I learned about myself was part of a dream and the fight behind the cafeteria a nightmare. None of it feels real any longer. The fear is gone. Life has reset itself, and I must admit, I think I like it.

I throw on a pair of jeans that are more fitted and my black turtleneck sweater that’s fitted too. Once I went shoe shopping on Fifth Avenue with Deanna and she talked me into buying a pair of patent leather ankle boots with a two inch heels. “Live a little,” she urged me. So I chose to make her happy, and let her buy them for me.

After slipping on both shoes, I trot off to Deanna’s bedroom to look myself over in the full length mirror.

“Wow,” I whisper. I look like an actual supermodel. I stand there torn for a moment. Then I remember those deep emerald green eyes I kept staring into yesterday and decide to go with it.

I decide to drive the jeep again. I’ll feel a bit uncomfortable walking ten miles in the garb I’m wearing and am still questioning whether I made the right decision by putting it on as I pull up into the faculty parking lot. I park in a spot at the far back of the lot next to Mr. Cranston’s beat-up yellow Hyundai. I know exactly who drives each car, it’s part of my strategy. Mr. Cranston hardly remembers student’s names, let alone what we drive. I also park next to Mr. O’Toole who’s a disbarred lawyer and hates being here just as much as I do, so he never pays attention to any of us. Last year in political science, Bill
Lintner
tried to kiss up to him, he just got fed up and bellowed out, “Stop it, you kiss ass!” Everyone was shocked, but I just dropped my head and chuckled out loud. I mean really, it was about time Bill
Lintner
heard it, even if it didn’t cure him from being a pest. Of course, Mr. O’Toole got reprimanded and had to apologize to
Lintner
and the entire class, but after we were dismissed, I walked up to his desk and said, “No need to say sorry to
me
, Mr. O’Toole,” and walked out. From that moment on, the few times he’s seen me parking in the faculty lot, he just pretends I’m invisible.

I slide cautiously out of my car, taking care to go undetected by the other teachers.

“Breaking the rules again,” I hear right behind me. I whip around to see the owner of those green eyes grinning at me.

I’m holding my heart. “You scared me,” I breathe.

“You know you’re the only student who does this?”

“Well then, those who don’t are idiots.” I carefully shut the jeep door, taking care not to make too much noise. “I mean look at all this space? There aren’t even enough teachers here to fill it up.”

He’s looks around, nodding. “I guess you’re right.”

“I am right.”

We stand there smiling at each other without saying a word.
We do that a lot
.

I know what I’m thinking—I’ll never get away with this if he walks out the gate with me. Then, I don’t want him to go away either.

“Where’s Riley?” I ask jokingly. Although, I am curious to know what’s going on between them. I mean, he is a Wek, which I’m still trying figure out what that means exactly and isn’t she human? How does romance work between them?

“I imagine she’ll be here soon,” is all he says and with a straight face.

“So…” I smile coyly at him. “I mean, so really, what’s going on between you two? I mean, is she not a human being? Is she like the devil? Because I would believe that you know?”

He chuckles a little bit. “No, she has no part with the evil.”

“Then why are you always with her, like you’re together?”

He shrugs. “Am I not supposed to talk to her if she wants to talk?”

I read his expression. He’s seriously asking me this—like
seriously
.

“You know she likes you, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“No—she
likes
you. And it looks like you
like
her too, and that’s what she tells everybody.”

“I like all creation, Zill.”

His expression is so sincere that it’s blowing me away. I don’t know what to say to him. All I do is laugh. Because it’s funny. Riley thinks he has romantic interest in her when he’s just a strange being who only knows how to be nice to people. He’s just giving her the attention she wants, which doesn’t bother him at all because he doesn’t get it.

“You know what she said once?” I ask. After, I’m standing here grinning at him.

“What?” His eyes frown curiously at me.

“That you said she was the best-looking girl in the school, even better looking than me.” I throw up my hands in my defense. “And believe me, I wasn’t insulted. She’s a very pretty girl and isn’t beauty in the eye of the beholder but…”

“According to the standards of humans, physically, she is the prettiest human girl in this institution. But you’re not human, Zill.”

“Yeah,” I say sharply. “You mentioned that yesterday but refused to expound on it. Do you feel like elaborating this morning?”

The first bell buzzes. After it’s quiet again, I keep my eyes pinned to his face, waiting for an answer.

“You’ll know soon enough. I heard things are already in motion.”

I shake my head at how vague his response was. “What does that mean, Derek?” I sound peeved.

“Could I walk you to your class?” he asks, changing the subject.

I just shake my head, giving up. “I wish, but if we walk out of here together, someone may see us and report that I’m parking over here.”

“They already see us.”

I follow his eyes across the woody mound of land that separates the student parking lot from the faculty side and there’s Riley, Morgan and two other girls glaring at us past the spiny trees.

“Dang it,” I curse under my breath. “After you,” I say to him. It sucks that the fate of my parking bliss is in jeopardy.

He steps off, and I walk off beside him pretty sure I’ll being seeing Mrs. Lowenstein at some point during the day.

People are eyeing us as we make our way down the hallway. I feel self-conscious because for the first time, I can blame myself for this reaction since I purposely wore the jeans, soft cashmere sweater and black shiny boots. I can also blame myself for agreeing to walk the halls with Mr. Popularity himself, who’s greeting just about every one we pass, students, teachers and even the little maintenance man in the gray jacket. I’m just the sour puss walking beside him, keeping my eyes forward until…

“Oh, Miss Decker, you’re making friends!”

It’s Mrs. Lowenstein sounding like Derek and I walking together makes her the humble winner of what’s behind door number three, while she’s standing in the doorway of the main office, peering at us.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lowenstein,” Derek says nice and cheery enough to cover the both of us. If anyone else were to have said it like that, then it would’ve sounded creepy, but he sounds so charming.

“Well good morning, Mr. Firth,” Mrs. Lowenstein replies, matching his enthusiasm. She cranes her neck to see me on the opposite side of him. Her eyes are expectant.

I lift a heavy hand, and barely say, “Morning.”

“Three o’clock in my office,” she manages to sing to me through that tight-lipped smile.

“Of course,” I call back to her after we pass her.

Derek touches my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. She’s just worried about you. She cares.”

I look at him with a confused frown, and then I turn around to see Mrs. Lowenstein watching us with a proud smile on her mouth. It’s clear she thinks her putting us together to serve punch the other night worked. I don’t say it loud, but I guess he’s right.

When we get to my first class, which happens to be homeroom, we stop in the middle of the doorway and face each other.

“Are you eating lunch today?” he asks.

Two girls entering the classroom hear him and their eyes expand.

“No, because I usually go home for lunch,” I answer embarrassed because the entire class is looking at us, even the boys.

“How about you stay here today and we can grab something together?” he persists.

There’s something about Derek Firth that’s extremely attractive. He can be whatever I need him to be and not only for me but for people like Riley Simms too. That’s why she likes him so much. That’s why I’m liking him just the same. But he’s a Wek. He’s a beautiful Wek, charming, and I don’t know, stirs up a feminine side in me that I thought never existed. However, unlike Riley, I’m not going to get sucked into the hole of what can never be because he doesn’t get that people can develop romantic feelings, and I’m thinking Wek’s can’t.

“How about you do what you normally do and I do what I normally do?” I say and pat him on the chest.

He takes my hand and holds it against his chest. “Are you patronizing me?” He’s wearing a tiny crooked smile.

“No,” I say and then think about it. “Well, yes. But I mean it really.”

“Come on, Zill. We’re friends now, right?”

I sigh hard, just as I thought. He only likes me as a person. “Okay, lunch,” I mutter, giving in and then turn into the classroom to take my seat.

I’m ready to call the day quits right after the bell rings and Mr. Franks starts calling out names, taking the roll. I don’t think there’s one person who looks more bored than I do.

Forty-five minutes creep by and then we hear another bell. I’m numb walking down the hallway towards my next class which happens to be economics, and the time creeps by in that class too. Third period is Spanish and as I walk out of that class, I don’t see Derek mixed in the sea of faces that are congesting the hallways. I sigh with relief. Maybe he’s changed his mind. I fully intend to follow through with my regular plan, which is rush home, make a salad, forget this morning of school ever happened and then return to finish the rest of the day, maybe. Oh, and I won’t forget to change clothes while I’m there—
if I decide to come back
.

As I’m outside, scurrying down the steps with my head down, eyes to the ground, hoping and praying not to run into Derek or Mrs. Lowenstein, the only two people in this entire school who talk to me, when I get to the bottom of the steps, two bright white sneakers are planted right in front of me. As I look up, I see the dark jeans and black wool coat.

“Derek,” I breathe.

“You sound disappointed.”

“A little,” I say, indicating that by stretching my index finger and thumb, leaving a tiny bit of space between them.

The cafeteria is full of lunch goers. It’s snowing and cold outside, so everyone’s inside. The line to the counter is long and I have my arms folded across my chest, thumping my fingers impatiently on my arms as Derek holds conversations with any and everybody.

“So where are you guys sitting?” this red-faced, brown-haired kid asks. I instantly grimace. Sitting at the table and listening to this guy go on about what he’s been talking about for the last seven minutes was not in the plan. They’ve been chatting about the New England Patriots and Indianapolis Colts game and how some guy name Peyton Manning tried the no-huddle offense. Derek mostly reacted to everything the kid said, not offering much on the conversation in return. It must be a gift because he manages to make it seem like they are equal participants in the discussion.

“Hey, why don’t you guys just have lunch here? I’m going to head out,” I say and begin backing out of line. Derek reaches a hand out and takes me by the shoulder.

“Preston, if you don’t mind, Zill and I have lot to talk about.”

“Zill,” Preston says, shocked that he called me that. Me, snapping at anyone who tries to shorten my name is pretty much common gossip,
true gossip
, at the school.

“Yes.” Derek’s tone remains charming and so does his smile. I think Preston, like everyone else, falls to the power of Derek’s smile.

“Um, sure,” he stutters and looks at me. “Maybe tomorrow, all three of us,” Preston says, staring at me for reassurance.

I’m not charming because I’m not Derek. “Absolutely not,” I say in my best mocking tone. And when I take a side-eyed glance at Derek, he’s frowning at me, I decide to be nicer. “I mean, I’m not eating in here tomorrow, just only today and never again.”

“Oh—okay,” Preston says. He seems more relieved by the explanation, which was really the truth for the most part. “Well, see you guys later,” he again, says mainly to me.

I shake my head after he leaves. “Can you stop?” I say under my breath to Derek.

“Stop what?”

“Stop having conversations with people. Let’s eat and get this over with.”

He’s giving me that perplexed look again. Like what I’m asking him to do doesn’t make sense. But does he have to engage everyone? It’s ridiculous and exhausting. He does as I ask and remains quiet while keeping that confounded look on his face.