The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(15)
Author: M. Leighton

Leah shooed me into the changing room and closed the door snugly behind her, calling through its louvered front, “Come out when you get it on.”

Quickly, I doffed my sweater and pulled the new garment over my head. I tugged at the hem until it fell neatly to my hips then I turned to survey my reflection.

The sweater was cashmere and deep apricot in color. It was fitted, hugging my curves as if it was made to fit them. It flared out at the sleeves and hem into a gentle near-ruffle that made it very girlie and very sexy. The warm color accentuated my creamy skin and the silky material shifted softly against my body as I moved. I loved it instantly.

I looked down at the price tag dangling from under the arm. The price didn’t matter since there was absolutely zero chance I would ever own such an item, but I still couldn’t help but gasp when I saw the triple digits.

“Yow!”

“Does it fit?” Leah was still standing right in front of my door. She must’ve heard me and thought I was referring to the sweater.

“I guess,” I said, trying to sound ambivalent about the most amazing sweater in the world.

“Come out then. Let me see,” she said, her voice fading as she walked away.

I opened the door and made my way to where Leah had been twirling in front of the bank of mirrors. I stood before them, seeing the perfect fit of Carson and cashmere from a variety of different angles. Leah and Mrs. Kirby made all sorts of comments and noises of approval. I couldn’t help but smile at their flattery. I also couldn’t help but agree with them; that sweater was made for me.

I was enjoying my modeling moment, laughing and twirling with exaggerated movements, when I spun back toward the mirror and saw a man standing several feet behind me. I looked at his reflection, the air hitching in my throat. My eyes met his in the glass. Instantly, I recognized the cool silver staring back at me, like mercury orbs set in a dark face.

It was the man from my dream, the stranger in the snow. His hair was even tied back, just as I’d imagined it would be. A chill skittered down my spine. It was laced with a little awe, a little fear and a little fascination. My heart fluttered in my chest as his eyes bored into mine. After a few seconds, he turned and walked away.

I watched the back of his dark head as he weaved through the racks. I was overcome with the most bizarre pulling sensation, like a magnet dragging at my insides, urging me to follow him.

When I could no longer see him, the breath I hadn’t even been aware of holding came rushing out. I whirled around, the air cool as it dried the sweat that had broken out on my brow.

“What’s the matter, Carson? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did you get a glimpse of the price tag?” Leah quipped.

Every fiber of my being was still sharply focused on him. I struggled to bring my attention back to Leah. “Wh-what?” I asked, turning back to the mirror and finding Leah’s face in it. I watched her smile slowly faded. She wasn’t joking anymore. “What?” I repeated.

“Seriously, are you ok? You don’t look so good.”

Leah’s face was full of concern. I knew she wondered what was going on with me and why I was keeping it from her. For a split second I considered telling her. Everything. All of it. Just spilling my guts. After all, I trusted her. I knew I could tell her virtually anything in confidence and she’d keep my secrets. But, alas, I wouldn’t.

I sighed. Not an audible sigh, but a soul deep one, the kind you feel more than you hear. I wouldn’t tell Leah because I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t burden her like that. Plus, she couldn’t help me even if I did tell her. There’s nothing she or anyone else could do for me. And that included Dad.

Intuitively, I knew that whatever was happening to me, whatever this life-changing metamorphosis was, it was something I had to deal with on my own. It was between me and me, the old and the new, the known and the unknown.

Resolute, I pushed my troubled emotions aside, pulled my lips up into my biggest smile and did what I was learning to do best: pretend.

“You’re just jealous because I found this sweater first,” I teased.

Leah’s eyes drilled into mine for several long, tense seconds. I could almost see the indecision warring behind her chocolate eyes, but, in the end, her easy-going, unobtrusive nature won out and she smiled. Her decision was made. She was going to go along with my pretense.

“Yeah right. My sweater kicks the crap out of yours.”

And so the charade began, each of us bowing to the terms of our silent agreement to keep things light, no questions asked.

We continued in that manner for the rest of the evening, a simulation of lightheartedness that I found utterly exhausting. By the time they dropped me back at my house, I was ready for bed.

Sleep was elusive, though. Each time I’d doze off, the same dream would come, only I’d awaken as soon as I saw the stranger lying in the snow. I’d open my eyes to the dark ceiling of my room, heart flying, breathing shallow, palms sweating. I thought of my science fair project, but knew that I lacked the concentration to be able to make any progress. So I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, reliving those brief moments at the mall, wondering who the stranger was and why I’d felt so drawn to him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thursday came and went in a blur. Before I knew it, I was eating lunch in the cafeteria on Friday and Stephen was coming my way.

“Still on for tonight?”

At first his question puzzled me. Then it startled me. It’s not that I had forgotten about our date per se; time had just crept up on me. I was looking inward and it was marching on.

“Sure,” I said, suddenly worried about Dad’s reaction when I told him.

“Seven o’clock,” he said with a wink as he turned to walk away.

My mind raced for a way to avoid the confrontation with my dad that I knew dropping such a bomb would incite. Then it hit me.

“Stephen,” I called. He turned to look back at me. “Could you pick me up at Leah’s? We’re uh- uh, we’re going to get ready together.”

Lying didn’t come naturally to me. Mostly, I was glad about that. I hated doing it. But it seemed that lately I was encountering more and more occasions where lying was becoming almost necessary. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Stephen shrugged. “Alright. Where does she live?”

I explained that she lived seven houses up from me and he agreed to pick me up there instead. I felt a little better, having averted a disastrous run-in with dad, but the lie I was going to have to tell him was already giving me indigestion. I pushed my tray aside and started planning out the details.