Bluehour: A Water Magic Novel Part 4

For a moment, I just sat there. My mind raced.

I didn't know how to feel about what had just happened. Even though it made no sense at all, a part of me was sad that he left. It was almost as if I missed him. My feelings made me uncomfortable. What was I some kind of m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t?

I too felt sick now. I wanted to go home, but, now that I didn't have a partner, the coach made me do laps by myself. Considering I didn't want to be paired up in the first place, I tried to convince myself that I was relieved to swim in the refreshing pool by myself. The water had a way of washing away all my problems. I hoped it would.

About forty-five minutes later, I was more than relieved when the coaches dismissed us early. Ashton Benson offered to drive me home. Now, that really surprised me. I was glad I didn't have to pester anyone into dropping me off, or worse, I was glad I didn't have to take a public bus home, so I accepted graciously.

Ashton opened the pa.s.senger door to his red Dodge Charger and motioned me in politely. I was glad to be back in my clothes and out of that goofy bathing suit I borrowed from school. I didn't care that much that everybody saw me looking like a buffoon this afternoon, but for some reason I was embarra.s.sed that Laurent had seen me.

"What happened with your swim partner today?" Ashton asked curiously as we headed up the boulevard.

I was disappointed that the conversation was on Laurent. I was hoping for an escape from my thoughts about him. "He said he was sick and left."

"He looked fine to me." Ashton shrugged his shoulders. "I wonder if he's a good swimmer. Did you know exchange students don't even have to try out for the team?"

That surprised me. I shook my head as my eyes trailed after a woman jogging with her dog on the sidewalk beside the road. "I was wondering about that because the French exchange students were still in France during our tryouts last year."

"Yeah. The princ.i.p.al likes to get the exchange students involved in school activities. Lucky for them-wouldn't you say."

"Sure is." I rolled my eyes. "I hate trying out. I'd do anything to get out of it."

He talked on and on about the swim team. I just wasn't as into the compet.i.tions as much as he was and the conversation bored me. As he pulled into my apartment complex, I couldn't help, but wonder why he was giving me so much attention. He could date much prettier and more popular girls than me, so it just didn't make since that he could possibly be interested.

As I was getting out of the car, he leaned over and grabbed my hand. That really startled me.

"Hey, would you like to catch a movie with me Friday night?"

"Really?" My reaction was surprised.

"Yeah, really." He smiled. "You like movies don't you?" I detected the slightest bit of humor in his voice like he found me endearing.

What should I say? I thought to myself. I had never thought of Ashton romantically. "That's so nice of you, but..."

"But?" He responded in playful sarcasm. He released my hand.

Now that my hand was free, I felt slightly more comfortable. "I'm actually on restriction this week."

He seemed unaffected. "How about the following Friday?"

"Well, I already have plans with my friend Agatha." Agatha and I usually spent our weekends together.

"Bring her along." His voice was still confident. "I'll get Danny Williams to go too. I can tell she likes him."

"You know Danny?" He kept surprising me.

"Of course I know him. Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, he's just not the kind of guy I would picture you hanging out with."

"I've known Danny my whole life, but you're right. We don't usually hang out. But I bet I could get him to go."

"That would be great." I was smiling now at the thought of telling Agatha the news. She would be ecstatic. "We're actually going night surfing." I told him. "But, you and Danny can come if you like. I know you're a good surfer."

His face lit up with the compliment. "You're crazy, Grace-surfing at night..."

"What?" I didn't know what he was talking about. Night surfing was a regular hobby of ours.

His lips pressed together before he spoke. "That's what I like about you. You live on the edge."

"Other people at school surf at night."

"Like who?" His voice lifted a little like he was teasing me.

"You know-Tyler Hannigan and his friends and uh, the exchange students." I couldn't believe I was talking about them again.

"Well, we all know Tyler is a suicidal maniac," he huffed. "The French chics surf?"

I nodded, noticing a streak of excitement in his eyes.

"Are they any good?"

"They're amazing, all of them. I mean the guys too."

For a moment, I got the feeling he was losing himself in a fantasy about Brigitte and Marine. It made me a little uncomfortable, but, really, who could blame him. They were unbelievably beautiful and alluring.

"Okay, so you wanna come?" Anxious to get in my apartment, I saw that he wasn't coming out of his fantasy, so I wanted to push him along.

"h.e.l.l, yeah," He finally said. His voice was enthusiastic.

He tried to walk me up to my door, but I adamantly told him not to as I rushed away. It could turn into a nightmare if he mentioned to my dad we were going surfing. Looking back, I realized I should have warned him about my father's rules of keeping me out of the ocean. Next time I see him I would have to do that.

Now that I walked in the door, I had a moment to breath. My father and sister were fixated on the television and hadn't noticed me yet. I couldn't believe Ashton Benson wanted to go out with me. How crazy. Agatha was right-he was interested in me. That was just way too unbelievable for me to comprehend.

"Hi Lucy..." I called out several times to my seven-year-old sister who was sitting on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn in her lap watching TV beside my dad. "Earth to Lucy."

After not hearing me the first few times, finally, she came out of her television trance and turned to me. "Grace!" Her voice was excited as she put the popcorn in our father's lap and ran over to me. Once she reached me near the doorway, she threw her arms around my torso. I loved her for that. She was the best.

"How was your first day of school?" I asked her.

"It was great." Her smile was beaming. "I got candy for not talking when the teacher was calling roll. You want one?" She pulled out a Tootsie Roll from her pocket. It got a little squished, but it's still good."

"Thanks." I took the piece of candy from her and we walked together over to the couch.

"Hi Grace." My dad glanced over at me as Lucy took the bowl of popcorn back and snuggled up beside him.

I sat down on the sofa next to Lucy. They were watching a doc.u.mentary on the Civil War.

"How was school?" my dad asked when a commercial came on the TV.

I shrugged. "It was okay."

"Just okay?" He was flipping through the channels now as we talked.

"I'm just worried about cooking cla.s.s."

He chuckled. "I guess you should be."

"Hey, that's not nice," I responded playfully though I knew he was right.

"What about swim team?" He looked at me. "How did that go?"

"Terrible." I looked at the toothpaste commercial on the screen. "Coach Sanchez paired us up with the boys' team and my partner got sick and had to leave."

"What did you do?" He went back to flipping the channels.

"Coach made me do laps by myself."

My mom rushed in the living room dressed for work. "Your dinner's on the table," she said. "I'm taking the nightshift." She kissed all of us on the cheeks and grabbed her purse from the love seat.

She worked as a c.o.c.ktail waitress at the Hilton Hotel. "Bye guys," she called as she checked her teeth for lipstick on the wall mirror before hurrying out the door.

"Don't you have ch.o.r.es to do for your restriction?" my dad asked me, lifting an eyebrow.

Annoyed, I looked up at the ceiling. "Yes." My voice conveyed irritation. I noticed Lucy wasn't listening to a thing we said. She was engrossed in the doc.u.mentary.

He put his feet up on the coffee table in a relaxed manner. "Go eat your dinner and get to work." With that comment, he repositioned himself on the couch and reengaged in the show. "Oh," he said without looking at me. "Somebody named Laurent Moreau called. I left the number by the phone. He wants you to call him back. He said it is school related so I'll let you make the call even though you're on phone restriction."

My body began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Oooo Laurent," Lucy said giggling. I guess she wasn't as engulfed in the Civil War as I thought.

Let Go I sat at the table eating the pasta and French bread my mother left for me. I couldn't believe Laurent called me. How did he get my number? Maybe somebody from the swim team gave it to him. I couldn't imagine what he wanted.

My pulse was racing at the thought of calling him back, but at the same time I was very curious. I guzzled down my milk and took the cordless phone in my room along with his number that my dad had written down for me.

I sat on my bed contemplating whether to call him or not. Really, I didn't even know him, so why should I care? If he wanted to talk to me, he could keep trying.

But, then I started thinking about him. All of his behaviors toward me were confusing. I couldn't figure out what his problem was with me. His actions were both hot and cold. His moods during our limited interactions seemed erratic.

I wasn't going to call him. That's all there was too it. Whatever he needed to ask or say to me would probably just twist my mind up further. He didn't seem capable of acting normal around me.

With that decision in mind, I went to work on my ch.o.r.es. I started with the laundry and while the clothes were in the machine I went to cleaning the hall bathroom between Lucy's room and my parent's room. But while I was scrubbing the bathtub, I just kept thinking about Laurent and his friends.

I was just so curious why he called. The more I thought about it the more I just had to call him back. A few times I found myself giving in and rushing back to my room to enter his number into my phone, but before I did I thought about how many times I had gotten myself into trouble due to my inquisitiveness. "Curiosity killed the cat," I kept warning myself.

But, even that mantra didn't help. Curiosity was my biggest inner demon. I JUST HAD TO KNOW.

I held the phone as I thought further about what he could want. My father said Laurent said it was school related so maybe he just needed to know what the English homework a.s.signment was. That couldn't be it-he had his whole clan to ask about that. And we didn't have homework on the first day of school anyway.

My biggest fear was that he might address his weird behaviors. In a way that would be great because then maybe I could make sense of it all, but on the other hand, I felt so nervous around him to the point that I didn't think I could pull off a meaningful or even coherent conversation.

Taking in a deep breath, I entered the number into my phone. I had no idea what I was going to say. The best thing to do was to just let him talk, but I had so many questions.

His phone started to ring. I thought about how strange it was that I even cared what he thought of me. The idea that he had such an effect on my mind made me angry. As the phone rang and rang, I started getting madder and madder. n.o.body made me feel this way. I felt so out of control that I decided in a fury to just hang up.

Immediately I went back to my ch.o.r.es. I stuffed the washed laundry in the dryer in a huff. And then I went into my room and started researching things on the internet like "people who eat teardrops," but I only found a recipe for how to cook a teardrop roast and other nonsense.

Hoping to find answers on how Laurent teleported his body to my desk in English cla.s.s, I looked up "teleportation." I found some interesting scientific information and theories, but other than some kooks' beliefs, it hadn't been proven as possible.

I heard a knock at my bedroom door. My father peeked his head inside. "Time to go to bed kiddo," he said with a smile. "The house looks good."

"Thanks Dad." I was glad he appreciated my hard work.

"Maybe we should put you on restriction more often." His smile widened.

"Ha ha," I responded in playful sarcasm.

He walked into the room and kissed me on the cheek. "What are you looking at?" His eyes were fixated on the computer screen.

"It's nothing," I breathed as I quickly closed the window.

"You're interested in teleportation?" He asked warily.

I shut down the computer. "Just thought it was an interesting topic." His question made me uncomfortable. I was troubled with my perceptions of what happened in the cla.s.sroom between Laurent and me and I didn't want to expound upon it. If I actually explained, he might send me to a mental inst.i.tution.

His body was tense. "If you ever see anyone with those abilities, run away as fast as you can and stay away from them." He had an overly stern expression on his rugged face.

I laughed under my breath. "Okay, Dad. Sure thing." My response was mocking. "As far as I can tell teleportation is just science fiction. People can't do that in real life."

He chuckled now. "You're right." He shook his head, but I could still see a glint of concern in his eyes which confused me. "Get right to bed now," he said as he patted my back.

"No problem." I moved my chair out and stood up as he walked to the door. "I just have to do my strengthening exercises and then I'll go to sleep."

He was happy with that. "I'm glad you're so diligent with those. You always need to keep strong and conditioned; always prepare for attack."

"Gotcha," I responded with a smile as I got down on the floor in pushup position.

"Sleep well." He left the room.

I finished my pushups. But, while I was engaged in my hand weight exercises, I started thinking about Marine. It hadn't dawned on me until now. Even though I wailed on her in the face only nights ago, her features showed no signs of bruising. She looked as beautiful as ever today at school.

This didn't make sense to me because I hit her very hard several times. She should have had a black eye, bruising, or something. But, her face looked flawless.

I was working on my shoulder reps now as I tried to figure it out. The only explanation I could come up with was that possibly she was an excellent makeup artist. Maybe she covered her bruises with sophisticated foundations. I had seen people do wonders with makeup on television so it was possible. She seemed like the type, obsessed with beauty.

I finished up my short workout and went to sleep. My dreams were all about Laurent Moreau. There was one I remember most vividly. I was lying on my stomach on a king's table set with the finest delicacies. Laurent sat before me in regal 18th century attire as he twisted a strand of my hair lovingly. The most beautiful music was playing in the room. We stared into each other's eyes and told each other silly little jokes as I giggled and he chuckled wryly. He took my finger and placed it in his mouth.

The next day at school was really hot. I wished I had worn shorts. I was surprised to see that Laurent wasn't in English cla.s.s. I wondered why he wasn't there. Maybe he was still sick. But, somehow, I didn't think he was ever sick in the first place. As unreasonable and narcissistic as it sounded, I feared he was avoiding me. Maybe I should have been more persistent in returning his call. I could only wonder what he needed.