The Mayfair Moon (26 page)

I rolled my eyes.

“Here comes Harry,” I whispered.

Harry had not hung out with us in two days. I tried to talk to him on the phone, but he wouldn’t take my calls, and at school, he wandered around alone. This had to stop and Zia and I had to think of something worthy to tell him. It was no secret that Zia and Sebastian were together. I just couldn’t take this anymore, seeing Harry act this way and knowing it was partly my fault he was so hurt by everything.

I had never stopped thinking about what to tell him since he last spoke to me. But all of that thinking got me nowhere.

Harry approached swiftly, as if he too was tired of the silence.

Zia looked at me and I could tell she was as unsure about what to do as I was. With Sebastian in the mix, the situation couldn’t be any worse. I winced when he stopped in front of us, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.

“I’m sorry, man,” he said to Sebastian. “I’m just glad you’re not dead, y’know?”

Zia and I locked eyes. We couldn’t move the muscles in our faces, but apparently this was going to resolve itself and I’d be able to breathe again soon.

Sebastian man-hugged Harry, gripping his fist in one hand and patting his back with the other. “Hey, no problem,” he said and then he dropped his voice. “I didn’t know about...,” he indicated Zia with the movement of his eyes. “...I really didn’t.”

Zia walked around in front of them. “Harry, I’m really sorry. Sebastian and I liked each other before I came to the school.”

“I know,” Harry said. His posture was awkward, but he was slowly becoming himself again. “It’s cool; I just wanted to get this out in the open so we could all get back to normal again. Sucks eating lunch at the loner table.”

I couldn’t help but smile. This was perfect. I got one of my best friend’s back without turmoil in-between.

“And Adria,” said Harry, “I feel like a real ass for dragging you into this.”

“No way,” I said, “I should’ve told you something.”

Harry argued, “You were stuck in the middle of it and that’s my fault—”

I put up my hand and stopped him.

“But enough of this,” he obeyed, “it’s done and over with. Have you guys heard what Tori’s been saying around the school?”

“Which part?” said Zia, “That I sleep around, or that Sebastian hit her when they were going out, or that she found Sebastian and I together and she busted my lip?”

“Yeah, I guess you
have
heard then,” said Harry. “That girl is psycho.”

“Yeah,” Zia grumbled, “there’s no way she could bust my lip.”

I was glad things were back to normal. The school rival stuff was no big deal. I didn’t care that because I was friends with Zia that the rumors about her included me also, or that I had enemies. Nothing anyone at school could do would ever match what I faced on the outside.

~~~

The days were getting colder and I dreaded the coming winter, especially in Maine. I hoped it would hold off long because I hated snow. I was a southern girl, used to heat and humidity and the occasional tornado.

Friday morning was blustery and I know I looked like an Eskimo when Isaac picked me up for school.

“Cold?” he said, making fun of me.

I pulled the faux fur hood away from my head and scooted over next to him. “I’m not going to make it through the winter,” I said.

He wasn’t even wearing a jacket; a long-sleeved, tight-fitting thermal black shirt was his idea of warm clothing. Not that I had any arguments; he looked awesome in black.

“It’s technically not even winter yet,” he laughed and then said with a grin, “But I’ll keep you warm.”

He did that already. The hot blush in my face was kind of standard around Isaac Mayfair.

“I had a dream about you last night,” he said.

“Oh?” I felt a nervous twinge in my gut. “What about?”

Isaac smiled over at me and shook his head. “Don’t worry,” he said, detecting the hesitation in my voice. “It wasn’t anything like
that
.”

We pulled away from my house. I hated how dreary everything was; only adding to the misery of the cold. The sky was gray, blanketed by thick depressing clouds with moving specks of black as crows flew over. The trees had already lost most of their leaves. Just looking at it all made me colder.

“Well, go ahead,” I urged him; “you got me all curious now.”

Isaac pressed the Power button on the radio and shut it off even though the volume was so low it was hardly a distraction.

After a long hesitation, he began. “You were sitting at the edge of a creek and had your shoes off and your feet in the water. You were singing and I was leaning against a tree, watching you.”

I snickered, interrupting him. “Proof there’s no truth to dreams,” I said. “My singing is awful!”

“Well, I didn’t say the singing was
good
,” he said, grinning.

My mouth fell open halfway with an unbelieving spat of air.

Isaac laughed and pulled me closer, resting his hand between my thighs.

“Anyway,” he went on; “you kept looking all around until finally you saw me. At least, I thought it was me you saw.”

“It wasn’t you?”

“No,” he said, “I got the feeling you were staring right
through
me instead. Then you stood up, slipped your shoes on and walked away.”

“That’s not what I would’ve done if that really happened,” I said.

No, I would’ve drawn it out like an overly dramatic run-toward-each other scene. There would have been butterflies and sparkling water. Slow-motion. My hair like a feather in the wind. Okay, so maybe it would’ve been cheesy, but it was better than walking away from him.

“That was it?” I said.

Isaac turned too early onto Litchfield rather than going on toward my school. I was too interested in Isaac’s dream to ask where we were going yet.

“No, I must’ve followed you to your house,” he went on. “You still knew someone was watching, but you were afraid of me. I think I was a ghost.”

My enthusiasm for his dream began to diminish. I wanted to comment about how I didn’t like where it was going, but I thought I had interrupted him enough already.

“You stood near a fireplace then,” he said, “gazing out a window with your arms crossed. I reached out to touch your face and...”

I waited, eagerly.

“...And
what
?”

I heard Isaac sigh.

“I woke up.”

I felt gipped. It was such a crappy ending. Then I realized most dreams have crappy endings.

“Well, at least I was in the dream,” I said, laying my head against his shoulder. “That’s a good sign.”

“Yes, that’s a good sign,” he said with less optimism than I thought he should have.

Raising my head to look at him, I saw the sadness disappear from his face. He had been hiding something.

The car drove far past everything I knew in Hallowell and then past things I had never seen before.

“Where are we going?”

Isaac slowly pushed on the brakes. His gaze was harsh as he stared out the windshield, one hand gripping the steering wheel.

“Isaac?”

He stopped the car completely, pulled forward on the road, and made a sharp U-turn.

“I think it’s best you get your Uncle to drive you to school tomorrow,” he said regretfully. “And next week.”

Anxiety built up inside me quickly, and at first, I took it all wrong. I was just glad I caught myself before accusing him of dumping me.

“Isaac, what’s wrong?” I practically turned around to face him enough my back was almost pressed into to the dashboard. “Did something happen?”

“Not yet,” he said finally making eye contact, “but it will.”

I had a feeling then what his strange attitude was all about. “A week before a full moon?” I said simply.

“Yes,” he answered. A sort of pain lay exposed in his face. “I hate not being in control, Adria.”

A truck sped by in the opposite direction and Isaac wasn’t exactly staying on his side of the road.

I tried not to pay attention to us narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.

“But you
are
in control,” I said. “You saved me from Sibyl that night in the barn. You knew what you were doing.”

Isaac sighed miserably. “Most of the time I know what I’m doing, but even just a second can be the worst second of my life.” He added, “And you see how clouded my mind gets; I could have driven to Portland if you had not said something.”

Hard lines appeared around Isaac’s eyes. He kept his attention on the road, but I began to worry about where his mind was. He seemed deep in thought, frustrated with himself. Both of his hands gripped the steering wheel so tight.

I covered his right hand with my left and said softly, “Isaac, pull over up there.”

He glanced over at me. I let the softness of my voice show in my face. He needed to understand that I was not afraid of him. At least…he needed to
believe
that I wasn’t. The truth was that I couldn’t be more afraid. I knew it was reckless of me to put so much faith in him when he didn’t have much in himself. I knew that he could very possibly kill me, but I wanted to believe in my heart that somehow he could overcome this. And I never wanted him to feel ashamed that I was afraid, or fragile.

Reluctantly, Isaac pulled off the road into a makeshift parking lot.

I reached over, turned the car off and pulled the keys from the ignition.

“What was the real reason you told me about the dream?” I said.

His cheeks blew up with air and he let it all out at once. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

I smiled, leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek; his skin was so warm and soft against my lips. “It was kind of obvious,” I said. “Now tell me.”

Isaac’s long face turned into a smirk suddenly. “You’re real demanding for, what, one hundred twenty pounds of human girl?”

My mouth fell open. I would’ve put my hands on my hips, but it was awkward to do sitting down. I settled for crossing my arms. “One-twenty?”

Of course, I loved every minute of this.

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but most guys don’t go around guessing a girl’s weight. It’s dangerous; don’t you know?”

“Well, I’m not most guys.”

“How’d I know you were going to say that?” I laughed. “Oh well; I guess a werewolf doesn’t have anything to be afraid of anyway, let alone someone like me.”

The playful tone faded from his face. “That’s not true, Adria.”

The wind began to pick up; a gust hit the side of the car and shook it just a little. Fallen leaves scattered all around us.

“What are you afraid of then?”

Isaac just sat there, staring intensely out ahead. His hands gripping the steering wheel as if he were still driving. His posture was rigid, his gaze, unbreakable. “I’m afraid of losing control. I fear emotion,” he said. “Most of all, I fear you.”

My heart wrenched a tiny bit in my chest. It’s a funny thing how one’s heart can react to words and emotions as though it has a mind of its own.

Still facing forward, Isaac went on:

“Do you remember when Cara brought up my last girlfriend?”

That detail wasn’t something a girl forgets easily, but I pretended to have to think about it for a moment. “Oh, yeah,” I said. “I remember.”

Finally, Isaac rested his back into the seat, letting his fingers fall from the steering wheel and then he turned to me.

“She was just a girlfriend,” he said. “I don’t mean to put her down and I’m not telling you these things because you’re here and she’s not; she was a decent girl, but I didn’t love her.”

That should’ve made me feel better. It probably should’ve even made me gloat a little inside, but it didn’t. The pain in his face was devastating and I just wanted to make it go away.

I listened.

He took a mild breath. “She was human too,” he said. “And she was terrified of me.”

“Really?” I said, more decided now about keeping my own fears secret. “How did she know what you were?”

“Her mother was Turned by an Unknown,” he paused. “None of that’s important. What’s important is that you know I hurt her. I hurt her really bad.”

My palms began to sweat, or maybe the moisture had been there all along and only now did I realize it. A million different kinds of ‘hurt’ went through my mind, including the worst kind of all: death.

The wind blew against the car again, with more force this time. I could feel a cool draft of air coming in from somewhere near me, nipping at the back of my neck.

“Adria,” he said, detecting the edge in my posture. “You have to know everything about me.”

Now I wondered how could I make him believe I didn’t fear him, especially now that I looked every bit of afraid? I could sense his despair, his regret, the hatred he felt for the part of him that could not be tamed. Sometimes the look of fear and anguish are not so different.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” I said.

Once I said it, Isaac’s posture hardened.

He went back to the subject of the dream quickly.

“Dreams are just subconscious metaphors,” Isaac began, “They’re Life’s way of warning us of future events, explaining the past and deciphering the present.”

“You think your dream was warning you?”

He nodded slowly.

“Wait a second,” I said, “but you said you were a ghost in that dream.” I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining Isaac’s dream theory—I refused to accept him being dead. That part had to be the metaphor....

“Yes,” he said, “and I think it represents my need to protect you without being in your life.”

All of my organs stopped working in that moment. So, maybe this
was
about him breaking up with me, after all.

Like his death, I refused to accept that, too.

“Look at me, Adria.”

I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to see me cry and I was going to if this was heading in the direction I feared the most.

“But in one way like my father,” he went on, “I’ll ignore that need and I’ll ignore the warning. As much as I know I’m a danger to you, I’m also selfish. My heart will go against everything my mind tells me.” He sighed and said almost in a whisper, “And later on, I’ll regret it....”