Beneath Scarlett Valley

CHAPTER THREE

THE OBNOXIOUS ALARM screamed in my ear. I turned it off and threw my hand-painted sheets aside. Intrusive yellow beams danced across my bare skin, turning the brown to gold. I watched until a cloud drifted across the sun, and filled the room with shadows.

“Fitting,” I mumbled and climbed out of bed.

Fifteen minutes later, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My dark blue jeans and white buttoned-down shirt seemed good enough to me. Then again, I thought the invention of stretched cotton was right up there with the light bulb and democracy. 

I looked down at my combat boots. They were ancient, discolored, and had spent more time in the trash than on my feet, but I loved them. 

“Coffee’s ready,” Harper called from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll be right there.” I took another fleeting glance in the mirror and left.

Harper’s eyes fell to my boots when I entered the kitchen, as though she had memorized their soft squeak. 

“Don’t start,” I said.

She shrugged and handed me a coffee mug. I inhaled the pungent aroma and sighed. Coffee was right up there with stretched cotton and democracy.

As I downed my coffee, Harper pointed to a soggy stack of pancakes. “Hungry?” 

My stomach recoiled at the suggestion. “I’ll pass.” 

She tugged on my hair, pulling the frizzy ringlets straight. “You should let me flat-iron your hair. No one wears their hair like this anymore.”

I stepped out of her reach. “I like it curly.”

Harper sat down at the table with a sigh. She clasped and unclasped her hands, taking a deep breath each time. 

I finished off my coffee and sighed. “Just spit it out.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have gone behind your back and rebuilt the house.”

My lingering anger melted at once. An apology from Harper was a rare thing. “May I have that in writing?”

Harper smiled and looked down at my feet. “Not unless you take those hideous things off your feet.”

“Quit throwing them out,” I said. “See you later.”

I started for the door, but before I could leave, Harper grabbed my arm. Her smile was gone. 

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

My skin burned with shame. “I slept fine, no nightmares.”

Harper’s eyes scrutinized my face. When she found what she was looking for, she smiled.

“Take it easy today,” she said. “Just focus on playing human and try to befriend someone. Humans assume their friends are as normal as they are.”

“Is that it?” I asked through clenched teeth.

Harper pulled out her car keys. “No downshifting, the clutch needs replacing.”

I took the keys and hurried out the back door. I blinked back tears as I pulled out of the driveway. Why was she so much better at this life than I was? 

Harper killed of course, all Furors did. Not for food or fun, but for relief from the burning rage. My kill list was three times as long as Harper’s was. No wonder she thought an eternity as a Furor was a grand idea. 

I pushed the depressing thoughts away as I drove along the downtown strip. The curious eyes of breakfast patrons bore into me from both sides of the streets, as did the squinted eyes of a ski-walking group.