Forgotten (7 page)

***

Tapping Stella to the art classroom
just as the tardy bell sounded, I closed my eyes, turned my head,
and then looked around the room. Jace’s smoky outline was the only
figure that showed in the cloak of darkness. He was in the far back
corner of the room – sitting in my spot to be exact. He waved at
me.

I had the sudden impression he’d
picked up art class for the pure pleasure of annoying
me.

He leaned back. Considering that I
couldn’t see much definition in his shadow hazy, I couldn’t help to
noticed how smoothly he moved. I hated that my heart picked up its
beat. The simple act of watching him lean back in a chair shouldn’t
make my pulse race. Pressing my lips tight together, I tried –
unsuccessfully – not to think about how his lips had felt on mine.
Only in dreams did guys do and say everything perfect while in
reality they were the complete opposite.

I opened my eyes and almost brought my
hand to my face to block his blazing sight. I didn’t recall his
silhouette being this bright yesterday. I lowered my gaze. My hair
fell around my face. It helped to hide my surprise. I was extremely
pleased Bree opted for a casual hair-do. Only a few, tiny braids
were woven throughout my hair, but I lost the fight against wearing
mascara.

Mrs. Briggs was already
rattling off whatever lesson plan she had scrambled together for
the day. At least she didn’t get on my case for my lack of
timeliness. Raising my head, I tucked my hair back behind my ear
and walked confidently to
my
spot.

I made it halfway across the room
before the nausea hit me. How was he doing this? Jace had another
thing coming if he thought he was going to win a battle of the
wills with me. I mentally patted myself on the back once more for
not telling Bree about the dream. I knew she’d never purposely
“out” me, but a few secrets have slipped from her mouth before. If
it got out that I literally dreamed of Jace, not only would I be
absolutely mortified, but he might actually believe he has some
kind of influence over me. Pressing my hand against the wall, I
steadied myself and hoped the nausea would pass, when a vision
hijacked my concentration.

Warm, brilliant red liquid
seeped into my pink blanket. I was a young child, an infant.
Lightning flashed the night sky while rain pelted the roof only to
stream down the window beside me. My screams competed with the
thunder. But no one listened to me, not even the wrinkled old man
who held a bloody knife in one hand and a cane in the other. Blood
gushed from a young girl next to me. My pink blanket turned red.
Colors blurred until everything melted into a shade of
gray.

I stifled a whimper when the vision
faded away. Only in my visions did color arise and this one ended
with darkness. Also, I was always older in my all my visions – my
future. If I wasn’t mistaken, the vision marked the day in the past
– the day I lost my family and my sight. Tears quickly gathered in
my eyes when. I lowered my head, wiped them away, and hoped no one
noticed. I clenched my teeth and willed the world to stop spinning
in a spiral of gray. I leaned against the wall in attempt to keep
my balance. I closed my eyes together as tightly as I could,
willing more tears not to leave. Keep yourself untouchable, I
thought because only the weak cried. I refused to shed another tear
for their deaths. Nothing I could do would bring my family back.
Revenge dug its cold claws into my soul long ago. I forced my
misery down deep. I needed to be strong.

My future always unraveled before me
as broken pieces of visions, randomly throughout the day - but not
my past. It’d been dormant, until now. I wanted to scream out in
fury thinking of my sister’s pointless death. The man who murdered
her and probably my parents, was old, near the last days of his
life. I always imagined him being middle age, not elderly. That he
might already have died a peaceful death wasn’t something I was
willing to accept. I wanted him to suffer for his crimes; I yearned
for justice. It was ghastly enough that he stole my parents’ life,
but my sister was as defenseless as I had been. It was
unacceptable.

“
Winnie?” Mrs. Brigg asked,
bringing me back into my pathetic existence. “Are you still not
feeling well?”

“
I’m just peachy,” I lied,
stifling my grief.

She hesitated, expecting me to change
my mind. When I didn’t, she continued her lecture. I needed a
punching bag and then a pillow. Seeing my sister’s murderer in my
visions wasn’t something I was prepared to tackle in school. I
needed a distraction.

Pressing my lips tight together, I
glanced at my spot that Jace had so kindly occupied. I smiled
spitefully, pleased to take my anger out on someone so delightfully
aggravating.

I took one step forward and nearly
fell. His blazing white silhouette dimmed as I gathered my
bearings. I tried to shake the absurdity that he could control my
physical well-being, even though I a part of me still suspected he
could. I took a deep breath and continued to my table. I passed one
table before I nearly dropped Stella, because my hands were
drenched with sweat. Again, I paused and closed my eyes and looked
upon his hazy figure.

Jace nodded, encouraging to me to come
closer. With a frown plastered on my face, I passed by another
table. After bumping into one, I apologized and opened my eyes.
Everyone else’s dark shadows stayed the same shade of utter
darkness, but the white abyss I labeled “Jace”, had dramatically
darkened. I seriously needed a doctor check-up. Sometimes my eyes
played tricks on me, but not this extreme.

“
You’re in my spot,” I
glowered, standing a few paces away.

“
If you want it, you’re
going to have to take it,” Jace said, tossing what appeared to be a
ball of clay in the air.

“
Winnie’s known to throw a
wicked right hook; I wouldn’t intentionally annoy her unless you’re
looking for a black eye,” Ryker chimed in.

Folding my walking stick together, I
tried to keep my voice at a reasonable volume which was incredibly
difficult. Putting up with the two most maddening males in the
history of mankind was another feat I hadn’t the energy to deal
with today.

“
She doesn’t look like much
of a fighter,” Jace chuckled and rocked back into his chair. “Being
passive-aggressive suits her.”

Why did his voice have to sound so
enticing? I dug my nails into my palm, forcing me to think clearly.
“Please move.”

“
Don’t want to sit by your
dream boat, dearest?” Jace said. “Your cheeks are a little rosy.
Flustered about anything in particular?”

The dream with Jace blitz-attacked my
attention. It wasn’t real, I reassured myself. I was in bed making
out with my pillows, not the middle of a field and with Jace.
Besides, in my dream he looked like a dark shadow, like everyone
else instead of the irritating white abyss like he did now. Even if
my lips were swollen, my pillow had been the receiver of my
affection – not Jace, not the most narcissistic jerk I’d ever
met.

“
Nope,” I said, dismissing
my dream as some kind of subliminal joke my hormones had played on
me.

He casually threw the clay in the air.
He was baiting me, assuming I’d bite. He waited for a come-back, or
any remark, but what he didn’t know was that I’d lived with my fair
share of bullies. I stood silently, calculating the rhythm in which
he threw the clay ball. At the point where it was the highest, he
looked up, and I gave the chair’s leg a swift kick. Jace collided
into the floor, and then stood up faster than I could follow. He
seized my arms. He could’ve melted my flesh with as hot as his
hands felt. My feet wanted to give out when another vision raided
my thoughts.

A flash of the old man,
holding onto a bloody knife in one hand, trickled into my mind.
Scarred and wrinkled, his hands dripped with deep red blood.
Collapsing to his knees, the old man grinned vindictively as an
impossible gift was bestowed upon him. Smoothing out like his skin
was being ironed, the old man grew young. His gray hair deepened in
a dark brown, curling at the ends. His insane laugh echoed in my
mind.

The vision ceased to play out when
Jace tightened his grip on my arms. Rattling off commentary in his
language, he acted like he wanted to strangle me. Struggling to
keep himself dimmed, his anger spread over me in a heat wave. I was
sure he’d send himself into a blazing white figure again.
Conversely, just as quickly as the warmth passed over my body, it
was replaced by a tingling sensation that crawled over my skin,
energizing me.

I pictured him glowering down at me
while he lost his cool. It filled me with gratification knowing
that I was getting under his skin too. Jace mumbled a few words in
his cryptic language, and as if on cue, a headache formed at the
base of my skull when his figure brightened, but I’d come equipped
with a few tried and true items from Martha’s medicine cabinet. A
container full of ibuprofen rested nicely inside my backpack, along
with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and even a few Benadryl
pills.

“
I asked nicely for you to
move,” I stated, defending myself to whatever sting of obscenities
he cursed.

Just as I prepared to make some snide
remark about his secret language, the definition in his white
figure twisted vaguely. My head pounded, my eyes filled with tears,
and I forgot how to breathe. We stood facing each other; we were
two insults away from throwing punches when he subtly leaned closer
to me; the space between us was too far away and entirely too close
at the same time; the mood between us shifted. I waged a war with
myself. Lured by Jace, I was simply exasperated. The thought of
giving him a sample of my right hook tempted me, but the idea of
doing other vigorous activities distracted me as well. I swallowed
and held onto my anger instead of focusing on his
magnetism.

The definition in his face chipped
away from the shapeless abyss into a more precise shape. His mouth
formed in my sight, which was impossible. My own mouth watered
eagerly when he parted his lips slightly as he breathed deep –
methodically deep. The clasp on my lungs loosened just enough for
me to catch my breath. A moan resonated in his throat, after the
gasp escaped mine. His plush lips promised lucrative activities
that made my body tighten in ways it hadn’t ever had before. I
clenched my teeth, promising myself not to act like a giddy school
girl – no matter how lickable his lips looked.

“
You test my patience,”
Jace groaned.

He lifted me so I wasn’t standing on
my own. My feet still touched the floor, but it was an illusion. He
held me, supported my body weight. I twisted in his grasp. It
didn’t faze him. He held me easily. I swallowed hard, not exactly
hating his abundance of upper body strength. A prickle flowed from
his hands onto me; I sensed that he was enjoying my vulnerability.
I bit my lip to keep me from saying something regrettable. I only
spoke after I convinced myself that it didn’t sound
idiotic.

“
You test mine.” My
defiance wasn’t exactly profound.

“
She tests all our
patience,” Ryker said, adding his two cents.

“
Winnie! Jace!” Mrs. Briggs
said, stopping her lecture to spotlight our improper behavior. “Sit
down and be quiet.”

He slowly lowered me, like it took no
effort to man-handle me. I held back a squeal. Placing my hand on
the table in front of my usual spot, I reached for the chair. Jace
side-stepped behind me and pulled out the seat in front of him. I
was about to sit when he kicked my leg to the side. I fell clumsily
into the chair that he conveniently pushed out next to my spot.
Sliding me over, he sat down in the vacant chair my backside had
been aiming for all along.

Mrs. Briggs continued with her lecture
and left us to achieve whatever it was we were supposed to be
accomplishing with the clay. I crossed my arms, seething about how
I was going to counter-attack. Not just because Jace stole my chair
but because he somehow made a mess of my intentions.

“
You just declared war,
Jace,” Ryker warned.

“
You know nothing of war,
do you, Gwyneth?” Jace said. When I couldn’t think of anything to
say or do, he continued. “No, you’re just a little girl, mad at the
world.”

“
Little girl now?” I asked
smugly. Reaching for my old ball of clay, I re-formed the edges so
it began to resemble a bowl. “Not your
dearest
anymore? Have you gotten the
hint that you shouldn’t be gunning for the role of my boyfriend?
Because, you’re definitely not my type.”

Despite everything that just happened,
Jace grinned. I don’t know how I knew he was smirking at me, I just
did. “In all the years I’ve searched for a lady like you, there’s
one thing I’ve learned. The ones who fight the hardest are worth
the chase.”

With everything that just happened, I
wanted him to read the flashing neon sign flickering above my head
that read ‘NOT INTERESTED’ rather than misinterpreting my
actions.

“
Riddle me this, Jace. Why
go through this whole charade to get my chair if you don’t want a
war between us?”

“
It’s closer to the
door.”

“
Meaning?”