The Beginning of Never (The Never Trilogy #1) (10 page)

“It’s none of your concern. You weren’t even supposed
to find out about it.”

“But I did,
didn’t
I?” I
sneered. “And I wouldn’t want to go with you anyway since you enjoy letting
people stew in their fear when they get lost.”

He didn’t even try to look surprised. He knew exactly
what I was talking about.

“You
chose
to
get lost,” he said.

I scoffed. “And so that gave you enough reason to let
me almost die there?”

“I didn’t leave.” he said, looking almost bored. “If I
had you might have actually not found your way back, and then the whole school
would be searching for you. Shouldn’t you be thanking me for that?”

“I should, but I won’t. You probably would have been
happier if I’d stayed lost and never came back.”

The coldness returned to his gaze when I said that, and
I instantly felt his withdrawal like a shadow at the appearance of light. He
turned away from me without a word and continued with his task.

We left the hall around
10:30pm, after almost three hours of waiting. Tables that hadn't met the
acceptable standard were set on extra duty until about 11:30pm, since they had
to clean the hallways that we stained as we returned to our rooms. No one had
any strength to do anything else that evening, so most people just collapsed on
their beds. Only a few remained awake to chat about the events of the evening.
I was more than exhausted, but still, I couldn't sleep.

I had made the statement about him not caring if I came
back, not because I had actually meant it but because some part of me had
wanted him to refute me and insist that he would have cared. But instead, it
had annoyed him.

He’d been civil enough until we’d all gone our separate
ways, but now I felt like one of the many other girls that he never paid any
attention to, and it made me ponder religiously on how to rectify it.

His offer still stood I supposed, and I wanted to take
it, but I didn’t imagine that he’d want me there anymore. I tried pushing the
whole issue out of my mind and completely forgetting about him, but when hours
later, my eyes were still wide open and thoughts were still coursing through my
head so much that I forgot to
blink,
I decided to take
another approach.

Maybe I could be just his friend, and wipe away any
notions I had conceived of it being anything more than that. That would mean
that I could accept the offer and if I got to the storage room and he told me
that he had withdrawn it, I would feel absolutely nothing whatsoever, and
casually return to my house.

Yet, by 10:30 the next morning, as I pushed the door to
the storage room open, I wondered why my heart was pounding so painfully in my
chest.

As expected, the door behind the bookcase was locked so
I leaned against the wall beside it to wait, and eventually just slid down to
the floor. I was considering leaving about forty-five minutes later when the
door to the room opened, and he came in.

He was dressed just like me with our house’s white
jumper, and dark jeans. He also had what looked to be a small white cake box in
his hands, and his backpack was slung over his shoulder. He offered his hand
when he reached me and I held it to pull myself up, but ended up being too
close to him.

“How long have you been here?” he asked. I decided to
exaggerate.

“Two hours,” I answered. He just stared at me.

“You’re lying,” he said after a few seconds, and turned
to slot in the key

“What makes you think that?” I asked, and moved inside
after he pushed the door open. He shut it behind me and handed the box over,
then went ahead to pull the rug aside. He opened the trap door, and then stood
up to face me.

“Let’s just say I know when you’re lying.”

For some reason, my heart fluttered.

“Well, that’s just not true,” I said, but he ignored my
response, and moved on to the topic that I’d hoped that he wouldn’t bring up.

“You gave me the impression that you weren’t going to
be here today,” he said. It sounded like an accusation.

“Well I changed my mind.”

He didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t know whether
to be relieved or angry at him. I wanted so badly to know what was going
through his head.

Taking the box from me, he headed down the trap door
while I waited until I was certain that he had reached the ground, before I
followed. I was about midway through when I felt one of his arms encircle my
waist, and lift me off the ladder.

It was startling and unsettling, but not until he had
placed me on the ground did I complain.

“I can take care of myself,” I said, my voice bouncing
off the tunnel walls, creating an echo.

“Probably,” he said in a lower tone. “However I don't
want to spend forever down here, because just in case you haven't noticed, this
tunnel is kind of creepy."

“That's exactly what I thought when I first came
here," I said, pleased that my initial fright had been validated. "I
thought I was going to get eaten or something."

He switched on a flashlight and shone it directly in my
face. "So even though you were terrified, it didn’t occur to you to return
to school?”

I squinted against the rays and swiped at it to get him
to move it away. Taking my hand, he started to lead me through the tunnel, and
I couldn’t resist the smile that came to my face.

“Do you know how this tunnel came about?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “The soldiers used it during World
War I.”

“Now I’m even more terrified. So the school knows about
it?”

“Of course they do. It’s just been ignored, I assume.”

“So how did you find it?”

“I searched for it. I read about its history and found
it at the end of last term when I came down with James to sort out some storage
inventory.”

“So he doesn’t know about it?”

“No. No one was supposed to,’ he said, and with his
hand on the small of my back and an accusatory look in his eyes, he led me
forward until we reached the end of the tunnel.

We emerged outside and into the forest, then
immediately began our walk towards the stream. It was a warm day as the bright
sun shot its rays through the openings the trees provided. So although there
was a slight chill in the air, the breeze was warm enough to be accommodating.

"How many times have you been here?” I
asked,
when I saw how confidently he made his way through
parts I could barely remember.

"I spend most days after school here … and
sometimes during school." he answered.

It explained why I never saw him – he was never in
school.

We arrived at the stream, and for a few seconds I even
forgot he was with me. It was just as breathtaking as it had been the first
time, and as I rushed over to the rocky banks, he yelled out to me to be
careful.

Finding my way over to the huge rock that I’d sat on
last time, I removed my tennis shoes and socks, rolled up my jeans, and lowered
myself onto it. The rush of the clear water was powerful today, and as I
watched it hiss along the beautiful array of rocks and plants that threatened
to hold it at bay, I couldn’t remember ever feeling more peaceful. It was
fascinating enough to hold my attention for a few minutes but soon, my eyelids
began to grow heavy. Nathan’s sharp call however, snapped me out of it.

I looked up to see what he wanted but when I couldn't
see
him,
I left the rock and made my way to the land.
He had spread a blanket on the ground, close to a massive tree and was sitting,
his ankles crossed and his back against the trunk. He had a book on his lap,
and a pair of dark-rimmed glasses sitting on the crook of his nose. When he saw
me approaching, he slipped a bookmark between the pages he was currently on,
and then closed the book to rest it by his side.

“I didn’t know you used glasses,” I said as I reached
him, and crossed my legs to land softly on the blanket. I would have never
considered myself to have ‘a thing’ for glasses, at least not until now, but
with the way they framed his beautiful eyes, I knew that a fetish for dark rims
had just been planted in my heart.
As
well as a fetish for silliness
, I added, appalled at the thoughts that were
popping up in my head.

He just smiled in response, and dragged his backpack
towards him. He brought out a little black bag, and unzipped it to retrieve a
cutlery cloth roll. Next, he got out a small pack of cake candles and a
lighter, before he took off the lid to the box.

I was rendered speechless as I watched; the loud
chirping of the birds above us, and the increasing pace of my heart thumping in
my ears as he started to stick the candles in a whipped cream cake, decked with
strawberries and with the message-
HBD
Nora
written on it.

My breath caught at the back of my throat. And as he
battled with the wind that kept on putting out the flames he was trying to use
to light the candles, I felt an ocean of tears fill my eyes and then roll down
my cheeks. He turned then to look at me, but I instantly turned my head away,
and used my hands to wipe the tears off my face.

“Are you alright?” he asked. I nodded and gave him a
reassuring smile.

“How did you know?” I asked as he lit the last one.

He answered without looking at me. “I filled out your
clinic form the first time you fainted in the corridor,” he said as he
straightened.

Instead of meeting his eyes, I watched the tiny flames
flicker as the breeze harassed them. Then I laughed out loud when they all
finally blew off, and he turned to see his hard work destroyed. He just shook
his head and gave up.

“Why did you bother?” I managed to ask, amidst my heavy
amusement, but he thought I was talking about the candles.

“It’s supposed to add effect or something,” he said,
but he realized when he turned to me that it wasn’t what I was referring to.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I just felt like I
should. And I know it’s late,” he continued, “But it’s been a hell of a week
and I didn’t think about it early enough.”

He handed one of the sandwiches to me and I said
quietly. “I still hate you.”

“Of course,” he nodded and then
smiled,
that genuine, breathtaking grin that I was beginning to fool myself into
believing he brought out for just me. He retrieved a table knife, and thrust it
into the middle of the cake.

“So, how are we doing this?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“Do I have to sing?” he asked, and the dread in his
voice made me laugh.

“Actually, you do,’ I said.

He shook his head.
“Never.”

“You have to,” I insisted, but he ignored me and took
my hand to place it on the handle of the knife. I started to move my hand away
but he pushed it down, and the knife slid smoothly through.

“You cheated,” I accused, but he just chuckled.

“Happy Birthday in arrears,” he said in a whisper soft
voice, and with a look that he’d never given to me before. It was sultry and
moved from my eyes down my body, in a tease that made my cheeks
flush
with heat. He looked away to cut out two humongous
slices while I raised my hands to my cheeks, afraid that they had turned
visibly red.
What was that?

“Thank you,” I said when he handed a paper plate to me.

“So when is
your
birthday?” I asked, after I had begun to pick at the frosting. He handed me a
fork, which I refused, and when part of the frosting dropped down to my lap, he
retrieved a sheet of tissue and handed it to me. He took another, and to my
surprise, he wiped the cream off my jeans. He offered me the fork again.

“Use it,” he insisted, but I refused. Shaking his head,
he put it away and continued to eat his slice.

“When’s your birthday?” I asked again.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t do that,” I said.

He sighed. “It’s on the third of June,” he said, and I
immediately stored it in my brain.

“Thanks again,” I said, and he nodded.

“You know, you should use your hands,” I suggested.
“It’s sweeter this way.”

He seemed amused. “Probably, but I can’t stand the
mess.”

“Interesting,” I said.
“Given the
fact that you thought nothing of soiling me yesterday, and somehow ended up
spotless.”

“I wasn’t. I had stains on my shoulder.”

“And I was stained all over.”

He chuckled, and I thought of how much he sounded like
a patient elder when he did that.

“So where did you order the cake from?” I asked.

“Cornish,” he said. “It’s a little bakery in town. It
arrived this morning.”

“Ooh, you mean that place close to Domino’s?
On your way to the Town House?”

“Yeah.
It’s on Penny Street.”

“I’ve been there once.
Couldn’t make
up my mind, so I just left and went to McDonald’s instead.”

“
Hmm
,” I
groaned as the cream and red velvet cake melted in my mouth. “This is
good
.”

He nodded his head in agreement.

We started talking and laughing about our pastry
experiences, until eventually we got tired of eating and just laid on our backs
to stare at the sky. I shamelessly ate more than half of the cake while he
struggled to finish just one slice. It turned out that he didn’t like sugar as
much as I did, but preferred spicy foods.

“So what made you so upset that day?” he asked softly,
and the grin I had been nursing, shrunk.

“I’m always upset,” I said with a small laugh, but
after a few minutes had passed, and he didn’t say anything else I decided to
just tell him.

“It was the day my mom died,” I said. “Three years
ago.”

He was silent for longer than I would have liked before
he asked, “How?
If you don’t mind.”

“No it’s fine,” I said and took a deep breath. “It was
a car accident. She'd just had a fight with my dad and was going away to her
best friend’s house," I said. "They used to fight a lot. I was in the
car with her and then I asked her a question. One moment she was looking at me,
and the next… I was on a hospital bed, and the doctor was telling me that I’d
never see her again.”

An eagle shrieked in the distance.

“Why didn’t your dad tell you himself?” he asked.

“That’s a whole other story.”

We were silent for some time, and then I said. “I used
to blame myself at first, because I reasoned that if I hadn’t distracted her
with my question, then she would have kept her eyes on the road.”

“Don’t do that.” He said.

“I know.” I responded. “I chose not to think about it
when I realized that if I did, it was just going to eat at me until it
destroyed me. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe it, but I’ve just chosen not to
dwell on it.”