Riley's Secret (A Moon's Glow Novel # 1) (41 page)

What was I thinking; of course she would.

I waited a few seconds, making sure they were still
out of hearing distance before making my move.

Opening the door very slowly, I crawled out, looking
around to make sure I was alone. Since my eyes had adapted to the darkness of
the small closet, they now felt strained from the wash of light coming from the
fixture above me. The hallway was clear, so I continued to crawl slowly on my
hands and knees along the soft oatmeal-colored carpet, careful not to make any
sound. The phone was just a couple feet away on a small oak table against the
wall.

I was almost there when I heard a squeaky voice I
recognized as Tara’s. “There she is,” she yelled, pointing at me from the other
end of the hallway.

Crap. I stood up and ran as fast as I could for the
portable handset. I picked it up and dialed my number quickly. My mom answered,
“Hello.”

The words “come get me” rushed out of my mouth before
a well-manicured hand reached for the receiver. I turned to see Stephanie slam
her finger down, ending my call and the only chance of escape.

She smiled wickedly; her fierce blue eyes shot out
imaginary icicles that filled me with fear. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Tara and Trudy held on to me while I pleaded with them
to stop. I hoped that they would feel guilty and let me go. That hope was
short-lived when I saw laughter in their eyes. They were just as evil as
Stephanie was.

As I struggled, I felt the first cut and some of my
hair that had taken years to grow fell to the floor. I panicked, stomped on
someone’s foot and took off running. Fingers slipped from my skin. I was free.

“Get her, now!” the evil witch screamed. In my haste I
tripped on the edge of the carpet, giving Tara a chance to grab my arm before I
could get away, her pointed nails digging into my skin.

They held on tighter this time and as hard as I tried,
I couldn’t get away. I sobbed quietly as they chopped off my hair. My heart
sank with every snip of the scissors. The strands brushed my arm and feet as
they fell to the floor, feeling like soft feathers caressing my skin. I closed
my eyes, hoping that was all it was, a pillow torn open above my head.

When the awful snipping sounds stopped, I opened my
eyes to see most of my hair lying in clumps at me feet. I could no longer
pretend they were anything else. I knew that the pile of brown clippings curled
up along the carpet was mine. I stared down at it with a feeling of numbness.
my long mane that I had taken such care of was now taunting me from the floor.
When I was little, I asked to have long hair just like my mother. After that,
she would brush it lovingly every night, buying products to keep it soft and
shiny. She said it was one of the reasons she wanted a daughter, to dress her
up and play with her hair. And now the remaining pieces lay on the floor, being
stomped on by Stephanie’s open-toed red sandals.

They let me go and started to laugh. “I don’t think
Ryan will be interested in you now. My goodness, Sarah, what happened to your
hair?” she mocked. “You know, you really should stop going to your dad’s
barber.” Stephanie’s sick attempt at humor made the lump in my throat threaten
to grow.

Trudy and Tara laughed at her joke with twin
high-pitched screeches. They were eerily similar, with matching gray eyes,
black hair and milky complexions. If Trudy wasn’t four inches taller than Tara,
I’d think they were twins, although they weren’t even related.

I ran to Stephanie’s room, picked up my bag and took
off in the direction of the front door. As I rushed out, I heard her shrill
voice calling after me. “Oh Sarah, are you leaving so soon?” And of course more
laughter followed.

I stumbled out of her house into the night. In the
darkness, I followed the walkway to the road, feeling embarrassed and angry and
an ache formed in my chest before the tears started to fall.

I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and
started walking aimlessly. My tears were flowing hard, obscuring my view. My
foot caught in a crack in the road and I fell to the ground. My hands dug into
the asphalt, scraping my palms.

I pushed myself up and continued walking.

Would this horror movie ever end? I hoped to wake up
in my room, having dreamed the whole thing. Closing my eyes, I willed it to be
true, but fate was not on my side; this was really happening. I was still here
wandering the roads, praying I was heading in the right direction.

After what seemed like hours, I saw headlights behind
me. A car pulled along the sidewalk and the passenger side window slowly rolled
down. “OH, MY GOD, SARAH! WHAT HAPPENED?” my mother yelled from the driver’s
seat.

Chapter
One

The Dream

The fact that he was
present made me realize I was dreaming. In reality, he wouldn’t be caught dead
talking to me. It was early evening and I was sitting on one of the swings from
my brother’s old swing set, staring up at the starry sky. It was peaceful, with
a warm breeze gently brushing my face. My hair fell into my eyes. The scent of
lilacs drifted in the air.

I had just pushed off the ground and swung upwards
when I heard a creaking sound behind me. I glanced back to see him open the
gate and walk into our yard. He smiled at me, his hazel eyes sparkling in the
moonlight as he sat down on the swing next to mine. We sat together silently,
swinging gently, looking up at the moon and the stars.

Suddenly, a bright light shone from behind us,
followed by a very shrill noise…or was it a scream?

Thump, thump, thump. My eyes shot open. A banging
sound came from somewhere, interrupting my sleep. I wasn’t ready to wake yet,
so I threw the pillow over my head to muffle the noise.

“Sarah, get up, Mom’s been calling you,” Alex, my fifteen-year-old
brother, bellowed from the other side of my bedroom door.

“I’m up,” I yelled, tossing the pillow aside and
closing my eyes again.

I jumped at the sound of another thump. “Go away!”
God, can’t anyone sleep in around here? I heard him stomp down the hall,
leaving me to nestle under my covers to go back to sleep. Just as I was
drifting off again, a thought appeared in my foggy brain; I was supposed to do
something, wasn’t I? My eyes popped open, focusing on the dirt splotch on my
ceiling above me left by a ball I had thrown up years ago. I knew I should wash
it off, but I sometimes found myself staring up at it and seeing shapes in the
dust. Once, after studying for a difficult biology exam, the shape of a happy
face appeared. It made me feel better about the test. But now I lay staring at
it trying to figure out what day it was and then I did. It was Monday and I was
late for school. Filled with panic, I jumped up to have a quick shower.

By the time I was
finished getting ready for school, my mom had already left. There was a note on
the kitchen table telling me that she had taken Alex to school and that I had
better not be late. There was a threat in there too, but I wasn’t worried. She
was pretty lenient—well, only when my dad was away on business. She was always
joking with him that someone had to be the grown-up. My dad was more like a kid
than an adult, more like a friend than a father. My brother and I were lucky in
the parent department. Yes, my mother was a little more responsible than my
dad, but we didn’t really have many rules. She trusted us to make the right
choices. She was very good with guilt, so before I did something stupid, I
would think of the guilt trip she’d lay out…and change my mind.

I took a juice box and a granola bar from the pantry,
grabbed my coat off the hook and headed out the door.

It was hot and sunny out and I instantly regretted the
coat. Shaking it off, I ran to my car, a used silver-blue, two-door SUV I got
for my sixteenth birthday. It was a bribe from my mother to make me go to
Hadley Academy. Even though I only lasted at the snooty school for six months,
I was able to keep the bribe. It was an older car, but that was okay, it had
character. So what if the passenger side door stuck on rainy days and it sometimes
smelled of pipe tobacco? It was all part of the charm and besides, it was free.
I paid for the insurance and gas with the money I made working at the
multiplex. With only a few shifts a week, I didn’t make a lot. But I was pretty
good at saving.

As I drove, I noticed that only a few leaves had
changed. It was the second week of September and this beautiful weather wasn’t
going to last long.

I arrived at my school, Hamilton High, a large
dull-gray stone building that slightly resembled a prison. Considering my last
school, I was okay with its appearance.

Parking in the student parking lot wasn’t always easy,
since I was usually late. I was often left with the spot furthest from the
entrance and today was no different.

Rushing to the front doors, I noticed my mom’s car, a
candy-red convertible. It was her gift to herself after she turned forty. She
worked here, unfortunately, as the vice principal. It’s not as bad as it
sounds, having a mother that works at your school. With a building this size, I
didn’t see her that often. This was my last year of high school anyway. In the
fall, I was heading to NYU for their teaching program; I was going to become a
music teacher. I had been playing the piano since I was five. My mother’s dream
for me was to follow in her footsteps and become a teacher, so I thought
combining our dreams was a good compromise.

 I was running from my locker, after having put my bag
inside, when the bell rang. Crap. I was late again. I’m not good with mornings,
so this happens every so often.

Just as I turned the corner heading to my first period
English class, I slammed into someone. Our sneakers squeaked against the white
tile as we collided. A pile of books fell to the floor in a heap.

I bent down to pick them up. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered,
but the words were barely out of my mouth before the person took off down the
hall.

It was a guy and he had picked up his books so fast, I
didn’t even see his face. All I noticed was the back of his head as I watched
him run off. His hair was shaggy and brown and he was quite a bit taller than
my five foot five. The gray sweatshirt and jeans he wore weren’t helpful at
identifying him either, since a lot of kids in school dressed that way.

“Miss Samson, is there a reason you’re loitering in
the hallway when class is starting?”

Turning toward the voice, I saw Mr. Henderson standing
in front of his classroom. He was short and stout with a receding hair line
that made his forehead look gigantic. And since his glasses always fell to the
bridge of his nose, no matter how many times he pushed them back, a few kids
made fun of him.  I, however, would never do such a thing.

“You wouldn’t want me to report you to your mother,
would you?” he said in a snarly tone.

“I’m going,” I mumbled as I took off in the direction
of my first class.

I wasn’t that late. The kids were just getting
settled, opening their books and getting out their pens, when I snuck into my
seat.

“You’re late,” Derrick, one of my best friends,
whispered from behind me. Miss Reynolds, our English teacher, was just starting
her lesson and didn’t notice him talking. “We’re meeting Emma outside today for
lunch,” he whispered again. I nodded my head, focusing on the rest of the
lesson.

My next class was my favorite, music and part of the
reason I liked it so much was the teacher, Miss. Fitzgerald. She had long
auburn hair that was always pulled back in a braid and she constantly wore long
flowing skirts with peasant blouses. I once heard Mr. Henderson call her a
Bohemian.

For the last week we had been studying a piece she
composed. It was complex and challenging to learn; luckily, I loved a
challenge. I was to play the piano for the piece and was excited for the night
we would get to perform for the school and our parents. We were working on our
own today, each of us learning our parts.

I was lost in the music when Miss Fitzgerald came over
and stood beside me. My fingers stilled as I glanced up at her. “Wonderful,
Sarah, you're doing great. I can’t wait to hear the whole piece. Julliard will
be lucky to have you,” she said, smiling. Her arms were crossed in front of her
as she leaned on the edge of the piano.

“Thank you, Miss Fitzgerald. But I doubt I’ll get a
job there after college.”

“Sarah, you could be a concert pianist and yet you
choose to teach. They should welcome you with open arms.”

I blushed, unable to hide my excitement at her words,
even though I couldn’t get my hopes up. I had always wanted to teach there, but
I knew it was a difficult position to acquire. I would just have to wait and
see.

Her words put me in a good mood and after class was
over, I headed to my locker, humming the tune I had been playing.

I had to ditch my books and get my lunch. As I fumbled
with my locker door, my arms loaded with books, a blue spiral notebook slipped
out of my fingers and landed on the floor with a thump.