Vance Mangum - Two Years Earlier
I was sitting under a tree at my new school during lunch trying to avoid the silly giggles and laughter from the endless parade of idiotic girls who were trying to catch my attention. Pretending to be oblivious seemed to work best for me, so I focused on pulling random blades of grass out of the ground while I bit into the apple I had in my hand.
It's not like I wasn't interested in the girls, I definitely was. I was just tired of not ever being able to really get to know the ones I liked before I had to move to a new place again. I already missed the girl I'd been hanging around with at the school I'd just left. Amber was amazing, and she could kiss like … well, there's just no point in thinking about her kisses anymore because I would never be experiencing them again.
I hated running. I despised constantly looking over my shoulder for him to reappear, always getting so close to finding us. It was totally messing up my life. While I was already sixteen, I was only a sophomore right now. I should've been a junior, but being on the run and having to go into hiding for a while had put me a year behind in school. Hopefully this time would be different. I didn't know if I had the same faith in this new coven that my Aunt Marsha did. She seemed to think they might be able to help protect us better than we'd been able to protect ourselves lately. I guess deep down I really hoped they could because I was just so tired of running.
I took another bite of my apple while focusing on the doors to the school, successfully redirecting my gaze away from the group of girls who were twittering together off to my left.
That's when I saw her.
She stepped out the door, walking next to some other girl, but my attention was instantly riveted on her because suddenly every emotion she was feeling at that moment washed over me. I sucked in my breath, having never experienced anything quite like this before.
This girl was different. She was magical. Literally.
The warlock inside me lifted his head in curious admiration. She was young, probably only a freshman I'd guess, but she was beautiful in a totally understated way. I was instantly drawn to her, and I glanced over her small, petite form as she moved toward the cafeteria.
A light breeze caught her black hair, stirring it slightly away from her face, and she smiled then at her friend. The current carried her laughter to me on the air, and it was musical. She was … content, happy, secure, and amused at whatever her friend was talking to her about. She was everything I was not, and I knew in that moment I had to know who she was.
“Excuse me,” I said turning to one of the girls hovering nearby, and she looked down at me with a hopeful expression. “Do you know who that girl is over there?”
I glanced back toward the girl I’d been watching, but not in time to miss the crestfallen look on this one's face before she lifted her head to follow my line of sight.
“Who? The blonde?” she asked icily.
“No. The one with the black hair,” I replied, not taking my eyes off her while she walked.
“Her?” she replied with an incredulous tone in her voice. I turned back to look at her, narrowing my eyes cynically. She shrank back from me for a second before squaring her shoulders and flipping her hair with one of her hands. “That's Portia Mullins,” she replied, looking away from me to whisper with her friends again.
Portia Mullins. Oh, the irony.
I knew exactly who she was. She was the underage daughter of my new benefactor who had sworn to help protect me. She was the girl I'd been instructed not to interact with because she had no idea she was a witch or that her family was part of a magical coven. I wasn't to have any contact with her until she turned sixteen years old and found out her true heritage. That was when she would be inducted into her coven. My coven. The coven I'd willingly bound myself to and could not betray.
She lifted her head and looked right at me, and I had to fight for control while I turned my eyes away from her with what I hoped was a bored, uninterested glance. But my heart raced slightly when I felt her emotions again, her pulse picking up at the sight of me. She felt … intrigued, perhaps even attracted, but that was immediately replaced by deflation. She didn't feel worthy of my notice. If she only knew.
Portia and her friend entered the cafeteria, and even though she was gone from my sight, I could still feel her.
Unexpectedly, I became very angry. I'd found a person I connected with on a level I had never experienced with another living being, and I couldn't even get to know her. I suddenly felt the need to punch something.
I stood up and strode across the parking lot to where I left my motorcycle, knowing full well I was going to get in trouble for ditching on only my second day of school here, but I didn’t care. I did know one thing though. I was determined to stay in this place now because one way or another, I was going to get to know Portia Mullins … even if it got me killed.
Chapter 1
Portia Mullins - Present Day
I thought I was the typical teenager, fifteen years old, eagerly awaiting my sixteenth birthday, which was in just three days. I was mostly excited because I would finally get my driver’s license—and of course there was the dating thing.
My family had a strict no dating policy until I turned sixteen. It didn’t bother me too much since I’d seen some sad results from other girls who were allowed to date when they were younger, not that those stories were always their fault. It just seemed like guys who didn’t respect girls had an easier time taking advantage of them when they were younger.
Even though I hadn’t hit the official dating scene yet, it wasn’t like I didn’t have guy friends. I’ve always been a happy-go-lucky girl, and I’m cute too in a sort of Goth girl way. The funny thing about that is I’m not Goth at all. I just happen to have naturally straight black hair that goes down past my shoulder blades, and my sweet little upturned nose goes perfectly with my bow-shaped lips. But my big, nearly black eyes which are bordered in thick dark lashes, set against my almost translucently pale skin, set off the entire look.
I’ve tried tanning, but somehow I can only seem to help myself turn a beautiful shade of lobster red before my skin puckers, peels off, and reveals my lovely new white skin beneath.
My best friend, Shelly, whom I happen to call Barbie behind her back, has tried to make me over many times without success. My hair won’t hold a curl, and the extra make up tends to make me look a bit like a hooker. So I religiously try to avoid wearing too much black, sticking to jewel tones and that shabby chic kind of style I adore. That, perhaps, makes me come off as a gypsy of sorts, which is a taste in style I’ve picked up from my grandma of all people.
Grandma Mullins is my most favorite relative in the world. She’s an eccentric, sixty-something, free-spirited individual. She’s the kind of lady who’s always smiling, but you feel like you’re missing the big secret behind the smile.
Grandma’s tall, slim, and graceful. Her hair is straight like mine, but it’s a beautiful chestnut brown, and it looks like it was purposely streaked with gray highlights. She always dresses in light flowing clothes and has way too many layers and styles of jewelry on at the same time, but somehow it works. She’s the one who’s throwing my birthday party for me this week.
“Portia!” my mom called from downstairs. “It’s time for breakfast!”
I groaned, hearing my name. I don’t hate it exactly, but my dad goes on and on about it. He’s the one who chose it. It was sort of a joke he did using a play on words.
My dad and his buddies were really big into cars in high school, and according to the many stories I’ve been told, they used to have some heated verbal disputes over whether their favorite car was called a “Porsche” or a “Porscha” in their pronunciation. My dad promised his buddies someday he would “own a Porscha.” After college, though, he had a hard time finding work in his field of expertise. He ended up becoming an encyclopedia salesman and working his way up through the company, but he quickly began to see his car dream fade. Then I was born, and he suddenly found a way he could own a “Porscha” once again. He wanted to even spell my name like the car too, but thankfully my mom put her foot down.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, dropping my backpack at the foot of the stairs.
I gave her a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing a piece of toast from the stack and slathering it with jelly.
“I have to work the swing shift again, so I won’t be here when you get home from school this afternoon,” she said.
My mom was a nurse at the Verde Valley Medical Center. I figured she was most likely the reason our family stayed afloat financially, since I didn’t think there were really many people out there buying encyclopedias in mass quantities.
“That’s okay,” I said, looking at her cartoon-covered scrubs she often wore to work with her pediatric patients. “I’ll go hang out at Grandma’s after I get my jobs done.”
“That’s fine,” Mom said. “Just remember to take out the trash this time before you go.”
I sighed heavily. I’d only ever forgotten to take out the trash once, and that was over a year ago. She’d never forgotten it.
I quickly finished up the scrambled eggs she gave me, while she rattled on about some of her patients, before carrying my dishes to the sink.
“I need to go, Mom. Shelly will be here any second.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Have a nice day,” she replied while I grabbed up my backpack.
“You too.” I sent her a quick smile before I turned to leave.
I ran out the door to see Shelly pulling up in her pink Mustang convertible. I shook my head at her color choice every time I saw it. Her parents bought it for her sixteenth birthday. It totally sets off her Barbie doll persona. Big blond hair, bright blue eyes, perfect figure dressed in the latest fashions, dating Brad, the captain of the football team. The two of us were complete opposites, but we had been friends since kindergarten.
“Hey, girl!” she called out to me while leaning over to pop open the passenger door. “Hop in!”
“Morning,” I said absently, climbing into the car while licking some jelly off one of my fingers.
Shelly immediately launched into her fabulous date Brad had taken her on over the weekend. I “ooh-ed” and “aahed” in all the appropriated places while I watched the scenery rush by.
I enjoyed the air, which had almost turned fall-like. It wasn’t cold yet here in Sedona, but the weather had started getting a little of that nice crisp feel to it. That was one of the things I loved about the Arizona climate, the warm seasons hung around for a lot longer than most places. Of course, a nice snow in the winter was always fun too, just to break things up a bit. It could get very hot here in the summer, but that was usually when a group of us would take the short drive up into Oak Creek Canyon to go for a swim at Slide Rock State Park.
This year’s excursion had been especially fun since the water was high from a good snow run off. When the water is low you tend to get a lot more bumps and bruises on the rocks, and, of course, there is always the occasional swimsuit blowout from those tourists who don’t know they should wear cut offs or board shorts to keep that from happening. That’s always a good laugh.
My attention drifted back to the present when the car turned into the campus parking lot. Sedona Red Rock High School isn’t a large school by any means. It only has about five hundred students. Its red brick buildings were designed to blend in with the giant red rock cliffs that surround the area.
Our whole town has a strict color code ordinance. Everything has to blend in. Even our lamp posts are brown instead of silver or green like anywhere else. The color thing can sometimes be a source of controversy. You either love it, or you hate it. But it does lend the town a nice sense of ambience I guess.
Shelly parked her car in the closest space she could find and put the top up. We grabbed our books and walked into the school.
There were posters plastered everywhere in the halls with giant scorpions on them, which is our school mascot. The first football game of the season was coming up this weekend. It was a non-conference game against the Snowflake Lobos. Their team had creamed us last year, and everyone was determined to get hyped up so it didn’t happen again.
The game also happened to coincide with my sixteenth birthday. Since everyone on this mountain is freakishly insane about football, my party was being held after the game at my grandma’s so more of my friends could come.
I coasted through the school day. The only exciting thing that happened was when Mrs. Skipper lost her glasses and couldn’t read our English lesson to us. The glasses were actually on top of her head, which I thought she should’ve figured out immediately since the whole class was snickering at her under their breath.
Shelly met me in the hallway after last hour, and we headed out to her car. She rambled on about all the unfortunate kids who had to ride the bus home. I wanted to remind her that most kids around here don’t have parents who own a multi-million-dollar spa resort like her parents do.
Her family’s resort was located on top of one of the town’s big red rock cliffs. It was called The Fountains at Fontane. Fontane was Shelly’s last name. It was a really nice place, and it was my third “home away from home,” Grandma Mullins’s being the second.
Shelly pulled up in front of my house, which was situated at the bottom of the red rock cliff in a Spanish-styled neighborhood. My house was a small but pretty adobe-looking home, complete with wooden beams and an interior courtyard and graced with a bubbling fountain. It wasn’t anywhere near as fancy as Shelly’s, but I loved it.
“You want to come over later?” Shelly asked as I exited the car.
“Thanks, but I’m going over to my grandma’s this afternoon,” I said, shaking my head.
“Oh. Well, tell Grandma Milly I said hi.”
“I will. She’ll be sad you didn’t come with me.” I smiled at her.
“I would, but I have a ton of homework.” She gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Apparently my teachers feel I have way too much free time on my hands.”
“Yeah, I have some I need to do too. I’ll call you later.” I stepped away from the vehicle.
“Okay. Talk to you then!” She drove off, waving her hand in the air behind her as she sped up the hill.
I turned and went inside, dumping my books on the kitchen table before I began doing my list of after-school chores. I was done quickly and a short time later had polished off the minimal amount of homework I had to do as well.
Grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter, I headed out the door and walked up the street toward the highway where my grandma’s shop was located.
My grandma owns one of those metaphysical shops that are popular in this area. It’s called Milly’s Lotions, Potions, and Notions. Her shop is fun place to hang out. It has books on all sorts of subjects, as well as an assortment of crystals and candles for purchase.
Grandma is very good with herbs too, so she makes her own lotions, soaps, shampoos and other ointments. She then bottles it up for sale in trendy brown bottles with green labels. She also likes to read auras for people, with this cool camera she has. It takes pictures of people and shows the colors surrounding them. Then she tells her customers what the colors in their auras mean.
She holds meditation classes once a week, where she teaches people how to achieve a deep state of relaxation. These classes are held in a very calming room in the back of the store. I used to go to them with her, but now I run the register for her on those nights, which helps me get a little bit of a paycheck too.
She had another small room added on to the rear of the store after she met Babs, who’s a local massage therapist. Babs does massages on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She’s a wonderful person, and she and Grandma are fast becoming best friends.
I soon arrived at the store, stepping inside. The soft lighting and mellow music, along with the pleasant herbal smells, always feel serene to me.
“Hey, Lollipop!” Grandma called out from behind the counter where she was rearranging merchandise.
Lollipop has been her nickname for me as long as I can remember. I asked her how she came up with the name, and she told me sometimes kids are sweet, and sometimes they just need a good lickin’. I thought that was funny.
“You want to help me stack these new lotions I made today? I’ve cleared a spot for them over on the shelf in the corner.” She nodded in the general direction of a large box filled with bottles.
“Sure,” I said. I hefted the heavy box onto my hip and hobbled over to the shelves.
“I also got a new batch of antique jewelry in today I thought you’d be interested in looking at.”
Grandma often purchased antique crystal jewelry which caught her fancy and sold it in her store. She also collected several beautiful pieces for herself. For as long as I could remember I’d always been fascinated by them.
“That sounds great!” I replied enthusiastically, excited to see what she had acquired.
“I thought maybe you’d like to pick a piece out for your sixteenth birthday.”
“I’d love to!” I replied with a grin.
I hurried to continue my shelving until all the bottles were neatly arranged in perfect rows. When I was done, I gathered up the box and headed toward the storeroom.
“I’ll meet you back there as soon as this customer is finished,” she whispered as I passed by, tipping her head toward a woman who had entered the shop.
I nodded and stepped through the funky beaded curtain separating the back room from the rest of the store.
I broke the box down and stacked it in the corner where we kept the others waiting for recycling, then went over to sit at the table in the middle of the room. It was large and had bowls and bottles of different sizes scattered across it that were used for grinding and mixing herbs. I studied some of the containers for a few moments before Grandma breezed in.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, moving over to a counter against one wall. She picked up a large flat wooden case.
“No problem.”
She brought the case to the table, popped open the latch and lifted the lid.
“Wow!” I exclaimed when the beautiful pieces came into sight. There were pendants, rings and bracelets of all sizes and colors. I greedily took it all in, my eyes flitting over the beautiful craftsmanship of an era gone by.
“See anything you like in particular?” Grandma asked, the same light of excitement in her eyes.
“There are so many choices.” I ran my fingers over piece after piece, taking in each design.
The chime on the door in the front of the store jingled, alerting us to the arrival of another customer.
“Keep looking. I’ll be right back,” Grandma said, heading out of the room.
I continued my perusal of the gems until my eyes rested on a lovely violet pendant. Gently, I lifted it out of the box, letting the heavily tarnished chain fall through my fingers, as I held the scrolling silver filigree surrounding the purple crystal. I slowly ran one finger over the smooth and rounded oval stone. It sparkled in the light so beautifully it was almost hypnotic.
I turned the piece over to examine the back and noticed a small symbol etched into the bottom. It was the letter P in the middle of a tiny heart.
Well, that’s convenient, I thought. It was like it was engraved just for me.
Grandma broke the silence when she entered the room again.
“Did you find something that speaks to you?” She smiled, her eyes flashing.
I held up the purple pendant, and Grandma laughed.
“You have good taste. This is the most expensive one in the bunch.”
“Oh,” I replied, a little downhearted. “I can pick another one.”
“Nonsense,” Grandma said, patting my shoulder gently. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. You don’t choose the jewelry. The jewelry chooses you.” She reached out and took the pendant from me. “You may have it on your birthday,” she added with a smile.
I stood up and gave her a big hug.
“Thanks, Grandma. This is more than I would’ve imagined.”
Grandma laughed again. “It’s only part of your present.” Her eyes twinkling in secret delight, and I looked at her with anticipation. “No more hints!” she said, shaking her finger at me. “I’ve said too much already.”
Chapter 2
It was Friday, and my birthday.
Shelly and I pulled into the parking lot, grabbed our bags and headed toward the school, chatting between ourselves about my party which was to take place that evening. I smiled at the few birthday greetings called my way by fellow friends and students heading in the same direction we were.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Shelly said with a little smirk.
“What is?” I said absently, not following her.
“Vance Mangum is staring at you.” She gave an almost inconspicuous nod over her shoulder.
I couldn’t help myself, turning my head to look.
She was right. My heart skipped a beat.
Vance Mangum was leaning up against his jet black motorcycle looking straight at me. For a moment our eyes locked and we just stared at each other. I couldn’t seem to break my gaze away from him, until I tripped over the curb because I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Thankfully, Shelly caught me before I fell all the way down.
I couldn’t resist a quick peek again to see if he was still watching. He was, of course, and I was mortified. I turned and hurried into the school.
All day long, I found my thoughts drifting back to the incident.
Vance Mangum was in a class by himself. He was a senior who had the reputation of resident bad boy, yet, despite that, every boy in school aspired to be like him in one way or another.
They were always trying to copy the cool messed up hair, or getting their holey Levis to look just as good. Some even attempted doing extra workouts to build up their muscles so their t-shirts would stretch across their chests like his. But no matter how hard they tried, none of them managed to pull it off quite the way he did.
Of course the girls adored him. He was totally gorgeous, sporting the looks that went with the physique, thick dark brown hair and chiseled features set off by bright blue eyes lined in thick dark lashes. The parking lot would come to a virtual standstill whenever he would ride up on his motorcycle, decked out in his black leather jacket and helmet. All the girls would cease whatever they were doing and begin chattering over him together.
I definitely hadn’t been immune to him either, often catching myself joining with the masses to watch. In fact, if I were being truthful, I’d have to admit to the secret crush I’d had on him since I first noticed him.
Vance had never had a girlfriend that I could remember. He’d only lived here the past couple of years, and plenty of girls paraded themselves in front of him hoping to catch his attention, but he just seemed oblivious to them.
His aloofness spawned many wild tales. Stories were told of how he was a drug dealer, or how he’d been in juvie because he had beat up a guy in a bar fight. Another one said he’d gotten some girl pregnant and been forced to leave home to come here to live with his aunt. But the truth was no one really knew anything about him because he stayed to himself.
Shelly had a couple of classes with him. She said he always sat in the very back of the room, and he never said anything unless the teacher called on him specifically, but he always turned his work in on time and never harassed the teachers in any way.
“Do you agree with that, Miss Mullins?” Mr. Harkins’s voice popped into my head breaking me out of my reverie.
“Huh?” I said absently, before realizing I had no idea what the question was.
“You better start paying attention in math instead of doodling in your notebook.” Mr. Harkins frowned.
“Yes, sir.” I sat up a little straighter, staring ahead at the problem he was going over with the class.
When Mr. Harkins turned back to the chalk board, I glanced down at my notebook and saw I’d written the name Vance Mangum all over it. I spent the rest of the class furiously scribbling it out before anyone else could saw.
Later in the day, Shelly and I were sitting in the lunch room. She was talking away about her frustration with an assignment her honors English teacher had given her, while I glanced inconspicuously around at the other students. I mentally kicked myself over looking for Vance here, since I knew he never ate lunch in the cafeteria, but I couldn’t figure out why he’d been staring at me so intently this morning. Frankly, I wanted to see if it would happen again.
I tuned Shelly out, but my attention was immediately averted back to her when she suddenly winced and grabbed her mouth.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, concerned at her look of pain.
“I think I just broke a tooth,” she replied, throwing a half-eaten cookie with nuts back on her tray then reaching for her cell phone. She leaned over to show me, and sure enough there was a chip out of one of her molars.
She called her mom and told her what had happened. Her mom said she would call her right back, and when she did she told Shelly to leave school and go directly to the dentist.
Shelly asked if I’d be able to get home okay, and I told her not to worry, I’d catch the bus, and I sent her grumbling out the door.
The last two hours of the school day passed quickly. I had my art class during that time, which I loved. We were working on creating clay sculptures right now. Mine was turning out to look something like a pencil holder made by a kindergarten kid, but it was still fun to do. I enjoyed the creative outlet it gave me.
The bell rang, signaling school was out for the weekend. I quickly put away my supplies and washed my hands before venturing out into the hallway. I made the trip to my locker, organized my bag, and then headed toward the girl’s restroom.
It was then I remembered Shelly was gone already and I was supposed to catch the bus. I let out a groan of dismay, quickly turning to run out the door and down the long hallway which led to the boarding gates.
I was almost to the exit when someone rounded the corner and we collided. I dropped my book bag, scattering the contents everywhere, and I scrambled about in a rush trying to gather up my things.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” I said, mostly under my breath. I didn’t even look up, but I was completely irritated.
“Hey now. You ran into me,” a soft, sultry, male voice returned, and I froze. I moved my gaze slowly, looking over at the feet in front of me. My eyes continued to travel up, over the black laced-up boots covered by tattered Levis, and past the black belt with the silver buckle, to the ever-present tightly stretched t-shirt and the leather jacket slung casually over the shoulder. I noticed the pulsating veins in his neck, and I paused at the soft wide-set lips, before looking straight into the piercing blue-eyed stare of Vance Mangum.
I swallowed hard, and my entire vocabulary was suddenly reduced to only one word.
“Sorry.” It came out like a whisper, and I wondered if he even heard it.
Vance slowly squatted down to my level. He had a slight smirk on his lips.
“Where were you going in such a hurry?” he asked, picking up one of my books, handing it to me.
I threw a glance out the glass door just in time to see the last of the buses leave the lot.
“I was trying to catch the bus,” I explained feeling more than a bit dumb. “I forgot my friend, Shelly, had to leave early today.”
“Ah,” was all he said. I was surprised when he continued to help me pick up my things.
He handed me my last book and stood up, reaching a hand out.
I was shocked by the gesture, but I took it, feeling sparks shoot up my arm at the contact when he pulled me to my feet.
“I can give you a ride,” he offered, letting go of my hand, and I felt a little sad at the loss of it.
I couldn’t speak. Vance Mangum had just offered me a ride home. What should I say? I must have stood there looking bewildered because he spoke again.
“Of course, if you’re afraid of motorcycles…” He let the sentence trail off almost like he was accusing me of being scared.
“No. Not at all,” I replied with a bravado I didn’t really feel. I raised my chin a notch, determined not to let him see how nervous he made me. “I’d be happy to accept a ride.”
“Great,” he said smiling widely, and I almost choked.
I suddenly realized I’d never seen him smile before, and it was devastating to my girlish heart. I’d never seen anything so beautiful, all perfectly straight white teeth framed in by those great lips and masculine dimples that suddenly appeared in his cheeks.
The guy should be a model, I thought to myself. He’d make millions.
Vance took off down the hall, and I slung my backpack on, trotting after him like a willing little puppy.
When we reached his massive motorcycle, he took his helmet off the seat and handed it to me.
“Safety first.”
“What about you?” I objected, reaching out to take it from him.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied, swinging his leg up and over the seat while knocking the kick stand up in one fluid motion. “Just hop on behind me and hang on around my waist.”
I stood there for a moment, struggling to adjust the strap on the helmet after I put it on. Vance reached over to help me with it, tightening it nicely around my chin.
“There you go. Perfect,” he said, and he jump-started the engine.
Yeah right, I thought. I probably looked like an idiot with my hair stringing out of this thing and hanging down over my geeky backpack. Thank goodness I’d worn pants today!
I threw my leg over the seat, settling on it comfortably, and wrapped my arms around Vance’s waist. I didn’t know what to do with my feet, though. Vance patted my leg and gestured to me over the roaring engine to put my feet on the pegs next to his.
As soon as I was situated, he took off, catching me by surprise, and I found myself grasping his waist very tightly with both arms. I couldn’t help but notice the stares of many onlookers as we passed by them on our way out of the parking lot. I didn’t blame them. I was in shock too.
The next surprise I got was when Vance dropped me safely off at my front door, without me telling him how to get to my house. I hopped quickly off the bike even though I was sad to let go of him.
Vance helped me again when I struggled with the chin strap. When he was done I took the helmet off, handing it back to him.
“Thanks for the lift,” I said, trying to casually straighten my wayward hair, hoping he didn’t notice how horrible I must look.
“No problem,” he said, not breaking eye contact with me.
We waited there awkwardly for a couple of seconds, not knowing what else to say.
“Well, I guess I’ll catch you later then,” I said, feeling dumb because I knew that wasn’t a likely thing to happen.
He nodded, and I turned away, tempted to run up the sidewalk to escape further humiliation.
“Hey!” Vance yelled after me when I’d gone only a few steps.
I turned around.
“Happy Birthday!” he said with another devastating smile; then the engine roared to life and he was gone.
I stood there staring down the street after him until I couldn’t even hear the engine anymore. Then with a silly girlish giggle I turned and ran into my house, hoping Shelly would call me soon.
The football game was in full swing by the time Shelly and I finally showed up. She had been at the dentist for a long while, so when she came to pick me up we were running late.
We quickly made our way around the field and squeezed into the standing student section near the pep band. Everyone was intensely following the game as the score was now tied at fourteen early in the second quarter.
I shook my head in amazement at what some of the kids were wearing, or not wearing to be more accurate.
We had the typical row of guys with their shirts off, showing their purple-and-black painted chests. Next to them were the girls in their sports bras with their stomachs painted too. What were they thinking? Hadn’t someone in the faculty noticed this yet? I was fairly certain this went way beyond the realm of the school’s dress code. That was something I’d always found crazy about sports. People think they need to be half naked to show their enthusiasm. I just didn't get it.
The crowd suddenly roared its approval when one of Sedona’s players intercepted a pass from the Snowflake team and ran it in for a touchdown.
“It’s Brad! It’s Brad!” Shelly screamed into my ear over the deafening sound of the pep band.
“And the extra point is good!” the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker a few moments later, and the crowd roared again.
The score was now twenty-one to fourteen in favor of the Scorpions. The rest of the quarter was a tough struggle between both teams without either one scoring, and when the buzzer finally sounded announcing it was halftime, each of the teams ran to opposite ends of the field to huddle and talk things over with their coaches.
Shelly and I walked out of the bleachers and headed up the hill toward the concession stands.
“Brad’s doing so great tonight!” Shelly said with a big smile, linking arms with me.
“He always does well.” I laughed at her. “That’s why he’s one of the captains.”
“Oh, I know,” she sighed. “It’s just he’s always much more fun after winning a game than losing one.”
“I’m sure most athletes are the same way,” I reminded her, moving to take a place at the end of the line.
We waited our turn and ordered sodas, but when we turned to walk back someone called Shelly’s name and motioned for her to come over.
“Hang on a sec,” she said to me and turned to throng her way through the thick crowd.
I walked over toward the fence to wait for her, but stopped short when I saw Vance was leaning up against it casually, watching me, his arms folded across his chest.
I stood still for a brief moment before having a second of bravery, and I walked up to him.
“Hey. Thanks for the ride again,” I said, feeling extremely stupid.
What was I doing talking to him like I knew him?
“Any time,” he replied, his gaze flickering over me.
“Really?” I blurted out before thinking. I felt the crimson color of my blood flooding my face as the heat crept into it.
“Why not?” He gave a half grin. “I kind of enjoyed running in to you.”
I met his piercing eyes—stare for stare, trying to see if he was just messing with me, before breaking contact with him and becoming suddenly interested in the ground beneath my shoes. I toed a crack in the sidewalk.
“Do you like football?” I asked, not knowing what to say, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. I’d never noticed him at a game before.
He looked over toward the field and shrugged slightly. “It’s okay, I guess.” His eyes moved back to capture mine once again.
I laughed out loud. “Don’t let the fans hear you talk like that. You might get mauled. People around here love high school football,” I said, wondering why I couldn’t stop babbling on like an idiot when I was around him.
He laughed a little at my response but didn’t reply, instead just quirking an eyebrow at me, like he was puzzled by something.
I stood there awkwardly for a few more moments before I heard Shelly call my name.
“I need to go,” I said, still feeling stupid. Why did I need to explain myself to him?
He didn’t reply, so I turned to walk away. I stopped after a few steps and looked back so I could speak to him again.
“Hey, I’m having a birthday party tonight. You’re welcome to come.” I found myself holding my breath while I waited for his reply.
He seemed to ponder this for a few seconds before he answered.
“Maybe,” was all he said, continuing to stare at me with that unreadable expression of his.
I returned his look for a couple of moments, wondering what he was thinking of my invitation before turning to walk off to join Shelly and head back to the stands.
“Where you talking to Vance Mangum?” Shelly asked with a disbelieving look on her face.
“Yeah,” I replied, my head still swimming over the interaction with him.
“Wow! Twice in one day!” she exclaimed. “I think he likes you. He never talks to anyone.”
“Whatever!” I laughed, nudging her with my elbow. “Let’s go sit down before the second half starts again.”
She linked her arm with mine, hurrying me toward the stands. I couldn’t resist one more glance over my shoulder toward Vance. But when my eyes rested on the fence, I discovered he’d already gone.
