First Magic by Raven Steele (classic fiction .TXT) 📕

Accidentally, my eyes passed over his. A lone speck of brown in his right blue eye stood out like the first star in the night sky. My lower abdomen warmed.

Why did I have to see that speck?

“So basketball tryouts are today, right?” he asked.

“That’s what I hear.” Act casual.

“May said you might try out.”

I laughed uncomfortably. “Oh yeah?”

“So are you?” He moved a little closer, a slight shifting of his body.

“I don’t think so.”

“You should. I hear you’re good.”

The warming sensation in my stomach turned sickly hot. I didn’t like his questions, his assumptions, or how he had subtly moved closer to me. And I especially didn’t want to feel his body heat, didn’t want to see that lonely speck in his eye.

Trying not to appear too frantic, I glanced around for a way out of this mess.

My savior came in the form of a three-hundred-pound linebacker who looked like he’d just eaten a dozen powdered doughnuts. White dust sprinkled the corners of his mouth.

“Hey C. Where were you last night?”

Christian turned around. This is my chance. I quickly dove in line with other students on their way to first hour.

I moved fast, maneuvering my way in and out of them like an Indy race car driver. My muscles screamed for more of a release, but I refrained from pulling any stunts like I had earlier. I didn’t stop walking until I reached my government class. I was the first student in the room, even beating Mr. Allen.

A television high up in the corner of the room was quietly tuned to the local morning news. I ignored it and opened my book. I pretended to read, but stopped when my exceptional hearing heard the chipper news lady say, “Her body was found at approximately 5:00 a.m.”—the reporter pointed to the side of a country road—“by a man on his morning run. According to the witness, the woman’s throat had been cut, but authorities have not yet confirmed cause of death. Because the woman had no identification, the police have asked us to notify our viewers of her description in hopes someone may come forward to identify her. The deceased woman is described as 5’7”, 130 pounds, mid-thirties, with red hair and blue eyes. She was found wearing a short black cocktail dress, black nylons, and only one red high-heeled shoe.”

The reporter continued talking, but all I could hear was a sudden buzzing in my ears. I found a shoe. A red shoe. On my front porch.

The humming continued, causing an instant headache. I touched at it and inhaled deeply, trying to break through an invisible, constricting band around my chest, but it wouldn’t budge.

Over the high pitch ringing in my ears, I barely caught the muffled sounds of students as they filed into the room. The walls around me shifted, and my eyes lost focus. I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles bone-white.

As the teacher stood to take his place in front of the class, I bolted. I’d never freaked out before, but if these were the beginning signs of a major freakapalooza, I’d prefer to do it without any witnesses.

Walking quickly, yet cautiously, my hand against the wall, I headed for the double doors at the end of the hallway. My vision failed, making everything around me look like the end of a colorful kaleidoscope.

It’s just a shoe. No big deal. I sucked in a hitched breath. A shoe a dead girl had probably worn. A murdered dead girl.

A garbage can sprung at me from nowhere, and I stumbled. Behind me, a gentle touch pressed against my back.

“Are you all right?” A male voice asked, the sound slightly distorted.

Please, heaven, let it be a teacher. I turned slowly, my eyes searching for clarity. I couldn’t see distinct features, but by the way his light brown hair fell to the side of his head, I knew it was Christian.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You don’t look fine.”

“I just have a headache. I’m going home.”

“You can’t drive like this. You can barely walk.”

“I can walk.” And it was true. My muscles could’ve ran a marathon with the way they were feeling, but it was my vision and hearing that made the rest of my body behave like a theme ride gone wrong.

“You just ran into a trash can. Let me take you home.”

He took hold of my hand firmly. It was warm against my cold palm and oddly soothing. In any other situation, I would’ve pulled away, but his grip seemed to release some of the pressure around my chest.

“Is everything okay?”

Both Christian and I turned around. Mr. Steele stood in front of us holding a briefcase. His eyes focused on mine, then dropped to where my hand gripped Christian’s.

“We’re fine,” Christian said. “Llona wasn’t feeling well so I was going to take her home.”

The invisible band around my chest tightened. I needed to get out of here, like yesterday.

Mr. Steele studied Christian for a long moment with a scrutinizing eye. “If that’s the case, she needs to see the school nurse first. Come with me, Llona. Christian, get back to class.”

Christian didn’t move for an uncomfortable few seconds. He only squeezed my hand tighter and continued to look at Mr. Steele as if sizing him up. Sudden tension pressurized the air.

I dropped Christian’s hand and took an unsteady step forward. “I’ll go. I think I just have a migraine.”

Mr. Steele, recognizing my unsteadiness, stepped next to me and lightly touched my arm. His touch burned into me. “I’ll help.”

He glanced back at Christian, then gently ushered me forward. I appreciated his steady hand on me. My vision still blurred, but my hearing had improved somewhat.

“Llona,” he said, “do you know Christian well?”

I shook my head. “He’s new.”

He stopped me in front of the nurse’s office and faced me. “You must be careful. Boys your age … well, let’s just say their motives aren’t always pure. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

His accent, the sweet sound of his voice, curled around me. I wished my vision wasn’t so blurry because I’d love to look into his eyes, the same ones I felt staring into mine.

“Aren’t you new too?” I asked. I don’t know why I asked it.

“Only to this school. My first place of employment since graduating from Wildemoor State University just this summer.”

“How old are you?” I don’t know why I asked that either.

“A few years older than you.” He knocked on the nurse’s door. “I hope you feel better, Llona. And remember what I said.”

The nurse opened her door. She glanced from me to Mr. Steele. “Is something wrong?”

Mr. Steele leaned toward her. “This young lady seems to be having a terrible migraine. Please take special care of her. She’s very important.”

My head snapped his direction, but he was already walking away from me down the hall.

“Please come inside,” the nurse said.

I followed after her, my mind even more confused. The last few minutes had unsettled me as much as the murdered woman with the one red shoe. First Christian, then Mr. Steele saying I was important. I wasn’t important. I was a boring, average girl who tried hard to go unnoticed.

So what’s changed?