Forever Dark: Book 1 of the Forever Dark Series

Chapter 1 - Here Comes Trouble

"Destiny has two ways of crushing us . . . by refusing our wishes . . . and by fulfilling them."

— Henri Frederic Amiel

Monday, December 8

Scott Carmichael was being stalked. He never saw the desperate girl with hungry eyes, wanting him in ways she couldn't describe. Her every move betrayed her nameless longing, her desire to step from the shadows and know what it was to be truly loved.

Stalking Scott was her morning ritual, as natural as drinking coffee, as simple as breathing air. Every day, the girl promised herself today would be different. Today would be the day Scott noticed her, took her in his arms, kissed her, and . . . She wasn't sure what happened next, only that it would be wonderful, magical, the kind of happy ending you only found in a romance novel.

That girl was me.

I followed Scott through the crowded halls of Capital High. The windows were wet with rain, endless gray waves that hid our school from the world, shrinking it until there was only this hallway, this moment.

My locker was across from Scott's, which made it easy to keep tabs on him. In my fantasy, we were the perfect match, but in reality, Scott was too good for me: rich, popular, a senior on the basketball team. He was beyond handsome, a sandy-haired god made flesh with baby blue eyes and an easygoing smile. The kind of smile that made the corners of his mouth curl up like a cat in your lap. A smile that said—

“You know you'll go blind if you keep staring at him like that.”

I turned to find my BFF, Naomi Parker, standing next to me. I called Naomi my best friend, but she was more like my only friend.

“I'm not staring,” I said. “I just like to watch.”

She stuck a piece of gum in her mouth. “If you're done perving, we need to talk about what we're gonna wear to the basketball game tomorrow.”

“So talk,” I said. “I'm listening.”

Only I wasn't. I was still obsessing over Scott. Scott texting someone. Scott saying “Hey,” or “'Sup?” to kids as they passed by. Scott looking thoughtful, thinking of something nice—or maybe someone. But not me. Never me. I was just a sophomore, an ash-blonde nobody who might be halfway pretty if she lost ten pounds, or wore the right clothes, or had half an ounce of pride.

Naomi popped a bubble. “Hello? Earth to Cindy! You do know I'm trying to help, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

Naomi shook her head, the exasperated motion rustling her mahogany curls. She was definitely cute, but it was her personality people really noticed. To say Naomi was bossy was an understatement. Which was funny, because she was barely 5'4” in heels. Between me hardly talking and Naomi talking too much, neither of us had much of a social life.

Across the hall, Scott got a notebook out of his locker and began thumbing through it, never knowing I'd filled notebooks of my own with his name and mine, joined together with hearts and curlicues for all eternity.

“You should totally ask him out,” Naomi said. “Before someone else does.”

“I know, and I will. Just not today, that's all.”

“Too late,” Naomi said. “Here comes trouble!”

I turned and saw a flash of cardinal red and gold. Cheerleaders. There were three of them, all seniors: the squad captain, Dakota Davis, her enforcer, “Evil” Megan Chu, and their pet idiot, Britt Saunders. Kids called them the Bitch Patrol behind their backs because they were always acting like some kind of popularity police. Total bullies.

Megan and Britt hung back, the Korean girl and curvy blonde giving their leader room to work. Dakota slid up to Scott. She was all breasts and hips, flawless white skin and flame-red hair.

“Hey, Scott.” Dakota stood too close, practically rubbing against him, and put her hand on his shoulder. “You ready for Ted's party Friday?”

“Sure,” he said. “How 'bout you?”

Dakota arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you know me. I'm always ready.”

Scott smiled so wide I thought his face would split.

That was all the answer Dakota needed. “See you around—if you're lucky.” She let her hand trail off him as she strutted away, her tiny skirt swinging left-right, left-right, dancing to the music of her hips. Megan and Britt followed, giggling and casting backward glances.

Scott watched Dakota like he'd been hypnotized by a cobra. A sexy one.

I wanted to kill her. I wanted to be her.

Naomi said, “See what happens when you don't go for your dream? Somebody else comes along and steals it.”

I scowled at her, but it was really myself I was mad at.

My BFF planted her hands on her hips in that obnoxious “get tough” stance she was taking with me more and more. “This is it,” she said. “No more stalking! You're going to ask Scott Carmichael out right now. What's the worst that can happen?”

“What if he turns me down?” I whispered. “What if somebody sees and goes around telling people?”

Naomi threw her hands up in disgust. “Whatever! At least they'd be talking about you for a change.”

“Easy for you to say. You're not the one being talked about.”

Naomi gave Scott a long, thoughtful look. “Fine. If that's the way you feel, maybe I should ask him out. I mean, since you're not going to.”

I gasped. “You wouldn't!”

“I might,” she said, “if that's what it takes to get you off your ass.”

I thought about it. “Well, maybe I could, but I have to fix my makeup, and I'm totally not wearing the right outfit.”

Naomi yawned. “You want Scott or what?”

“Oh, I want.”

“Good,” Naomi said. “I'll be right back.”

I reached out to grab her, but Naomi was already marching across the hall. I cringed in shame. This was going to be worse than bad. If Scott said no, I wouldn't even have my fantasy anymore. That threw me into a total panic attack. I felt the familiar tightness in my chest, the tingling in my brain telling me to run fast, to run far from here and never look back.

Only Scott didn't laugh or tell Naomi to go away. Could talking to Scott Carmichael really be that easy? The fear in my guts twisted, knotting with excitement and horror. Naomi pointed in my direction, and Scott looked right at me. His face lit up. My panic attack vanished, replaced by overwhelming joy.

Scott wrote something on a scrap of notebook paper. He handed it to Naomi and strolled off. The bell rang.

I ran over to her. “What'd you tell him?”

“Not much. Just that you're totally crushing on him, and you think he's the hottest guy in school. Especially when he wears his basketball uniform.”

I punched her arm. “No way! You did not!”

“Who cares what I said? It worked, didn't it?” Naomi held out the paper.

I made a grab for it, but she jerked it back.

Naomi said, “You do know this number will change your life, right? If you pull this off, Cindy—if you become Scott's girlfriend—all our problems will be over.”

“I know, I know! Gimme the number.” I couldn't take my eyes off it.

“Fine,” she said. “You can have it, on one condition.”

“What? I'll do anything!”

Naomi handed me the paper. “Don't screw it up.”

For more about the Author, visit www.JacksonDeanChase.com

© 2014 Jackson Dean Chase. All Rights Reserved.