Forever Dark: Book 1 of the Forever Dark Series

Chapter 3 - Opening Up

Walking home, I kept a death grip on Scott's number. Every once in a while, I'd stop and unfold it to study his handwriting: sloping, spiky, and bold. The paper felt reassuring, like a winning lottery ticket. Only it was scary too.

 What if I wasn't hot enough? Or cool enough? What if I was too poor, too nervous, or said all the wrong things? What if, what if . . . All this not knowing was the worst. But when the rain let up and the sun came out, it felt like a sign Scott and I were destined to be together. No matter what Faith said.

It was strange talking to her again. I'd missed my ex-BFF, only hanging with Faith wouldn't help my reputation. Scott might not understand and my parents would freak. So I decided just to be friendly—not friends.

My house was on Giles Avenue, about a mile from Capital High. I liked walking to school and back. It gave me time to think and hope and dream. It also made up for some of the ice cream and other junk I ate.

My street was kind of weird, like a lot of Olympia (which everyone called “Oly” for short). Some of the houses were old and run down, while others were practically brand-new. Mine was in-between: a three bedroom, prison-gray rambler with an overgrown lawn. By comparison, Naomi lived in Fox Run, a well-kept neighborhood across from the school. Her house was way nicer than mine, so we usually hung out there.

I passed Old Man Johnson walking his German Shepherd, Rudy. The dog had only three legs, so it wasn't really “walking,” more like stumble-hopping. They lived in the house behind ours, the one with the peeling white paint. My room faced their yard.

Old Man Johnson never said a word to anyone. Thin, unshaven, with a hand-rolled cigarette puffing out the corner of his mouth, there wasn't much to like about him, or his dog. Not that Rudy was mean, but he barked a lot. Mostly in the middle of the night.

None of that mattered now that I had Scott's number. In fact, I felt so good, I went out of my way to say, “Hi, Mr. Johnson!” I even patted Rudy on the head. The dumb mutt loved it. Old Man Johnson looked at me like I was on drugs.

When I got home, I grabbed a Diet Coke and bag of chocolate-covered pretzels from the kitchen. Mom was working in the guest bedroom between hers and mine, the one she'd converted into an office last year after conning Dad into letting her quit her waitressing job. She said she needed to pursue her dream of becoming a successful romance writer like her sister. Only it was obvious Mom didn't know much about love.

I went to my room and lay on the bed, staring at the faded pink walls. My eyes settled on the vision board that hung over my dresser. I'd made it last summer, cutting up fashion magazines to create a welcoming sea of female faces surrounded by four words: Beautiful. Confident. Sexy. Perfect.

The words were all I wanted to be, but they'd always seemed impossible, out-of-reach. Until now.

I drank my soda and scarfed pretzels trying to work up the courage to call Scott. I stalked him online for the hundredth time, from bookmarked recaps of his basketball games to his Facebook photo albums. His relationship status was “It's complicated.”

I put in a friend request and thought about texting him, but decided against it. I'd have to talk to him sooner or later. I texted Naomi for advice:

Me: Help! Scared 2 call Scott. What should I say?

Naomi: Ask him about himself n let him do the talkin. Guys love that.

I took a deep breath and dialed. My heart beat so fast I thought I might die.

“Hello?” Scott's tone was warm, inviting.

I hesitated, trying to think of something cool to say. Instead, I blurted, “Hey, Scott! This is Cindy. You know, from school?”

“Yeah,” he said. “'Sup?”

“Not much.”

“OK . . .” Scott sounded bored or disappointed. Maybe both.

“Um, so yeah, I just wanted to say hi and stuff. You know.” Stupid, stupid! Say something clever. Talk about him. “I'm a big fan,” I said in a rush. “I've been to all your games and think you're really amazing!”

“Right on.” Scott perked up and talked about how the Cougars were gonna take the state championship. He wanted to play professionally. I didn't mention how our team had lost half the pre-season so far, including last night's disaster against the Oly Bears. It wasn't Scott's fault the rest of the Cougars sucked.

Little by little, I felt myself opening up. Scott listened to me. That's something I never had from a guy before, except my dad. Scott let me tell him everything about my life, even the stuff I made up to sound cooler.

“Oh wow,” I said, noticing the time. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep going on like that. I'm not boring you, am I?”

“No way,” he said. “You have a sexy voice. I could listen to you talk for hours.

“Really? You think my voice is sexy?”

“I think all of you is sexy,” Scott said. “You know, I wouldn't normally hang out with a sophomore, but you seem different.”

“Thanks. I think you're different too.” Oh God! Why did I say that?

He laughed. “Nobody's ever called me that before. Listen, I've got a game tomorrow—”

“I know. Against the Wolves, right?”

“Yeah. I've got something after, but was thinking we could hang out Saturday.”

“Sure! I mean, I'd like that.”

Mom barged in. Tina Trent was an older, thinner version of me, ash-blonde and blue-eyed. She used to be pretty—and sometimes still could be—but years of bitterness had pinched her face into a deep, disapproving scowl.

“I need you to set the table for dinner,” Mom said. “Your father will be home any minute, and just once, I'd like to have everything ready on time.”

“God! I'm hanging up, OK? Just let me say goodbye.”

She stood in the doorway, waiting.

I sighed, super-loud. “What the flip, Mom? I meant in private!”

She let out a little huff and walked away, leaving my door open. I got up and slammed it, then sat on my bed again. “Hey,” I said, “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. So about Saturday, how 'bout I pick you up around eight? We can hit the movies and grab dinner after.”

Pick me up? That would mean my parents would find out! I wasn't allowed to date, or even hang out with guys except in a mixed group. Keeping me a baby was the only thing my parents agreed on.

“Um, can I meet you at the mall?”

“Sure,” Scott said. “See you in front of the movies. Oh, and Cindy?”

“Yes?”

“I know you've been watching me.”

“What? No, I haven't! I mean—”

“It's OK,” Scott said. “I've been watching you too.”

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