Drinking Life (Keeper of the Water Book 1) (18 page)

I return to school on Monday morning after a long week away. I’m glad to be back if only to break up the monotony. Even better, Celeste drives Cassie to school so I don’t have to hear her complain about her mom or school or the girls that are supposed to be her friends…

I head to my locker and try to open it but the handle is stuck. I yank harder and nearly pull it off the hinge when it finally pops open. Pounds of dirt spills out and I can do nothing but watch in shock as it buries my feet. Really? I thought pranks like this only happened in cheesy movies. Anger is the only thing that stops me from feeling anything but utter loneliness. I hear laughter echoing from down the halls—the jocks are probably the main culprits—but I barely look at them before two other people turn the corner and walk in my direction, hand in hand.

I’m not surprised that Cassie totally ignores me. I no longer feel the same hatred for her as I did yesterday but I doubt she can say the same. I expect it will be a
long
time before she forgives me, if ever. But John doesn’t glance in my direction either, his eyes aimed straight ahead even though I
know
he sees me here. The only change to his expression is a slight frown when he passes by me, though he doesn’t let his ‘girlfriend’ see that.

I kick the dirt off my shoes and stomp off toward history class, willing myself not to become upset by John’s snub. But when he enters history class a few minutes later and doesn’t take the seat next to me, my jaw tenses. It’s the only thing I can do to quell the burning sensation in my sinuses. As if that’s not bad enough, Jeff still sits at the front of the class, where he chats with one of the less popular girls. He used to complain how
no
girls paid attention to him but that seems to have changed. I soon overhear why.

“Is it true that you made out with Nia the other day in the hallway?” the girl asks.

I blush and turn away, pretending not to hear. Jeff must not realize I hear his answer, too.

“Yeah, but I told her she wasn’t my type,” he lies. “She’s way too big and tall for me. I prefer shorter girls, not that whole Amazon type.”

The short girl giggles. Luckily the rest of the students soon arrive and I can no longer hear their conversation. Stacey glares at me when she walks in after the bell but the teacher soon starts to talk. Any satisfaction I felt earlier about being back at school quickly vanishes and class passes painfully slow. John sits a few rows over from me and I can
feel
his eyes watching me. As much as I may want to look at him, I resist the urge—I’m through playing his games. I might not be able to stop the hurt from showing on my face but I
can
hide my face from him. I turn the other way for the entire class. As soon as the bell rings, I grab my books and rush out faster than everyone else.

I see John a few more times in the hallway throughout the day. When he’s alone, he looks at me but not when he’s with Cassie. There’s a sadness in his eyes whenever she’s near but I don’t care anymore, at least that’s what I try to convince myself.

This is how my life goes on for days and weeks. Nothing happens to change my loneliness while Cassie and John are inseparable. One might think it would be easier to see them together the more time that passes but sadly that’s not the case. The only happiness I have in life is spending time shooting my bow and taking long walks in the woods. Business remains slow, which is bad for the ‘Pocono Adventure Guides’ but good for me. I’m glad to stay away from Celeste, who goes out of her way to be extra nice after snapping at me. Worst of all, I even stop having my detailed dreams. The thoughts of that other life—the one I was so convinced I’d once lived—begin to fade from my mind, no matter how much I want to remember the old keeper and the tribeswomen and the bright blue water…

I feel lost in life.

One day out of the blue, I take more shooting practice when I sense a change out in the forest that I can’t explain. The normal sounds of nature go silent and I have the familiar feeling that something is out there. With my bow in hand, I take a few steps into the woods. A rush of excitement washes over me; this is where I
would’ve
run into the forest before, fearless about what I’d find. But something is different inside me, hollow where the adventurous spirit used to be. I’m not exactly scared and I don’t turn to run back to my house, but I feel utter indifference.

It’s not until I hear a sound coming closer that my heartbeat quickens and I raise my bow. Standing behind a tree in the middle of the woods, waiting for a possible intruder to emerge, I feel more like myself than I have in weeks. It’s not until the person walks out of the trees that I go back to feeling worse than ever.

“John?” I ask, lowering my bow. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

“I am sorry for sneaking up on you but this was the only way I could talk with you alone,” John says.

Deep down, I know these are the words I’ve most longed to hear. But in my mind I know not to trust a thing he says. I won’t let him chip away at the wall I’ve built around my heart, a wall that threatens to crumble the longer I stand here.

“Whatever,” I say and turn to walk away.

“Please wait,” he says.

As much as I want to leave and give him no satisfaction about the hold he has on me, my legs stop moving. I sigh at my weakness, but don’t turn around to face him. I try to harness my most annoyed inner-Cassie before answering.

“What do you want?” I snap.

The rustling of his footsteps comes to a stop.

“I know you might not want to hear this but you are the only thing on my mind, every minute of every day,” he says. His voice does that thing where it’s full of utmost sincerity to the point where I can’t doubt
anything
he says. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I’m glad my back is still turned to him. I don’t want him to know that I’m holding my breath, to see my eyes close at the thought of his words, to watch the anger disappear from my face and be replaced by longing.

“Whatever,” I say again, though I can’t muster as much acid in my tone. “Your lies aren’t going to work on me anymore.”

I
should
keep walking away but I turn around instead. He’s much closer than I expect, close enough to leave me feeling intoxicated. I can’t stop myself from staring into his dark eyes. Ever since the tour and my fight with Cassie, the look in John’s eyes has been distant and sad, slightly glazed from being with his ‘girlfriend.’ But now they look alive, full of fire and passion, the same as the time we nearly kissed. I don’t think someone could fake such a look.

“It is
not
a lie,” he says, clearly hurt by the accusation.

I want to trust him—
God
do I want to trust him—but I worry that his good looks and smooth accent are clouding my better judgment. It wouldn’t be the first time. Still, he’s very convincing as the wall around my heart crumbles more and more with every passing second. But then I think of Cassie, the thought of which throws a cold splash of water on my burning heart.

“How do I know this isn’t the same exact thing you tell Cassie?”

John looks guilty at the mention of her. I can almost see his eyes glazing over thinking about her.

“I just tell her what she wants to hear,” he answers honestly, not trying to deny the way he sweet-talks her, too. “I don’t mean the things I tell her, unlike what I say to you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to convince me to believe
anything
you say?”

John quickly grows frustrated. “I don’t know what to say to make you understand. But I’m
supposed
to be with Cassie—I
have
to be—but I do not want to. I want to be with
you
, more than anything else I’ve ever wanted in my
entire
life. And believe me, that’s a long time.”

“It’s not
that
long,” I say, refusing to make this easy for him. “Don’t forget, we’re the same age.”

John sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“I am…” he starts, sighing again from his loss for words. “…it’s just that… I wish you would believe the words I tell you.”

I shrug. “I’ve wished for a lot of thing recently that haven’t happened either. I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

I wonder if I’ve gone a bit overboard with the bluntness but John smiles.

“I do not have to play games with you the way I do with Cassie, the way I’ve had to pretend with… other girls.”

I fight the urge to smile, too; it’s a losing battle. “Sometimes I don’t know if you’re insulting me or complimenting me.”

But we both know which he means. A satisfied grin returns to his face and I want to hit him almost as much as I want to kiss him. It’s like he can read me when I have lapses in common sense because he steps toward me and leans in. I nearly let him kiss me but I turn away at the last second and shake my head. I try to hide the fact that I feel as disappointed as he looks.

“Nope, this can’t happen while you’re still with Cassie.”

“But she only
thinks
we’re together,” John says. A small grin appears on his lips; he must realize how weak of an argument he makes.

“Sorry, not good enough,” I say, though I have a feeling Cassie wouldn’t show the same restraint if our roles were reversed.

I head back toward home and hear him follow me. When we reach my makeshift shooting range, I look toward the trailer to make sure nobody is around.

“You better not let Cassie see you talking to me,” I warn.

“I do not care anymore,” he says boldly.

“Well I do. I don’t need any more drama with her,” I say.

He’s disappointed but nods his head in understanding. “Then there is nothing else to say, at least for now.”

John yanks the last arrow I fired out of the target’s bull’s-eye. He then removes a piece of paper from his pocket and uses the arrow’s pointy tip to tack it against the target. Without another word, he turns and rushes back into the forest. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least slightly disappointed to see him go, though my heart pounds at the sight of the paper, wondering what it could possibly be.

I unfold the paper to see another drawing of me. But this one was not done at school. I recognize the background as the area near the shooting range, the same area where I stand now. I’m still amazed by the way he sees me, how beautiful he draws me even though I don’t see myself like that. Even more incredible is how he drew this picture from memory. But it wasn’t just
any
memory—this picture was from the moment we nearly kissed before the tour. I can’t believe how he remembered every detail. I’ve been so worried that he’s playing me but I don’t know how he could see me like this—how he could recall that moment so vividly—unless he really feels strongly about me.

I’ve never felt so torn and look in the direction of the forest where he headed off. He’s nowhere to be seen but he can’t have gotten far. I want to go after him but know I shouldn’t. I sigh and walk back toward my house, regretting that I sent him away. Do I
really
want to live my life with regrets?

I take only a few steps before looking back down at the paper. My heart suddenly swells with excitement. The picture flutters out of my hand as I spin and run into the forest. The trees around me are a blur; I’ve had little energy for weeks but now it seems to burst out of me, propelling me quickly through the woods. John left no trail—not that I’d be able to see one anyway while running so fast—but I know exactly where to go, like some greater force is pulling me toward him. I have no flash of previous visions but I still feel like that person on the hunt.

I also experience a sudden moment of clarity. For months I feel like I’ve been climbing a mountain of questions; now it’s like I’ve reached the top and some answers may finally be appearing through the fog. One thing I know for certain is that there’s a
lot
John isn’t telling me. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize.

His lead on me was only a few minutes so considering the speed I run, it seems like I should catch up with him right away. But I run for several minutes without finding him and start to question my own sanity again, start to wonder if I even saw him in the first place. I finally reach a small clearing just off the highway, several miles away from my house, where I find John pulling on his helmet. I guess he didn’t want me—or especially Cassie—to hear his motorcycle near our cabins.

When he hears me approach, he removes the helmet. A wide, satisfied grin is plastered across his face. I don’t know if his self-confidence annoys me or attracts me—probably a bit of both.

“You came to me,” he says.

Like always, I worry it’s a mistake to be near him. But I’m done with the games. It’s time to put my sudden clarity—
and
John—to the test.

“I need you to tell me something,” I say, getting closer to him. I lean toward him, my heart beating faster though I’m sure to keep a cool exterior. John, however, starts to crack; I can see that I’m having the same affect on him that he usually has on me. When he responds, it’s no louder than a whisper.