Prophecy Girl (Lacuna Valley #1)

Chapter Five

Sam paced near the door, peeking in the window every hundred steps or so. She kept almost walking in, but at the last second would turn around and continue her pacing. Scenes played through her mind of sitting down and asking to see his self portrait, or telling him a joke, or apologizing in various humorous and self deprecating, but always sincere ways. Or maybe screaming at him, asking how he knew, demanding to know who he was and what was going on. Maybe he was just some kind of psychic and happened to know something was going on. Maybe he was innocent and she should start off with an apology for yelling at him. Maybe he didn't even know anything and it was just a coincidence he'd asked her about all of that weird stuff. Maybe he was just a weird guy.

She paced and paced, unable to decide what she should say. She began to convince herself that it wasn't worth apologizing because eventually she would move anyhow, and all of this would be for nothing. And why should she apologize, anyway? He was being pushy. And creepy. And if it weren't for him maybe she wouldn't have all these crazy thoughts in her head in the first place! Maybe she wouldn't be wondering if her dreams were prophetic, or imagining her little sister had superpowers. Yeah, she definitely didn't need to apologize, and probably shouldn't ever talk to him again. But then again, he knew something. He just had to know something.

In anger, she walked to the door and peeked through the window at Nick. His arms were crossed and he was staring at the empty chair next to him with his eyebrows pulled together. He was missing his usual sunglasses. He seemed vulnerable, hardly like someone who was messing with her life. She missed him, even though it didn't seem smart to. She was thinking about this, talking herself into just opening the door, when suddenly he turned his head and made eye contact with her. His eyebrows relaxed, he sat up straight in his chair, and Sam ducked down out of the window.

Unsure of what to do now, embarrassed both that he caught her peeking in the window and that she ducked, Sam quickly made her way down the hall. The bell rang before she made it out the door, which reminded her that she now had to get on the bus—with Nick. She tried to think of how to avoid him. She could probably walk home, even with the snowy roads, if she didn't have to worry about Violet. Maybe she could quickly get Violet off the bus and... Nick stepped in front of her with a wide smile on his face.

“Hello!”

She grimaced and his smile fell away, instantly sending pangs of guilt through her.

“Hi.” She tried to smile and fix things. He looked down and shuffled his feet. “So...” She tried to think of all the things she'd imagined saying to him over the past couple of weeks but came up blank. “What's in your CD player?”

He smiled at her again, not as wide, but her guilt subsided. “Here, listen.” He pulled earbuds out of his bag and put them up to her ears.

“Well I suppose you can't go wrong with The Beatles now, can you?”

“Exactly. What have you been listening to?”

“I doubt you'd know it.” Sam shrugged, awkwardly unsure of what to say next. The bus pulled up to the curb and she wondered if he'd sit next to her or behind her when they got on.

“Well, aren't you a little snob?” His face opened up with his wide smile again.

“It must be true, because that's the second time I've been called that recently.” Sam stepped onto the bus with Nick following behind her.

“That's alright, it's one of the many things I like about you,” he said.

A warm tingling traveled up Sam's spine and she felt a little hummingbird where her heart was supposed to be. She took her seat on the bus, three from the back, and he casually sat down next to her. She couldn't help her smile, she hadn't imagined things could be this easy with them again. How had she let them go so long without talking? The thought made her heart trip. There were important reasons why they hadn't been talking. It had started off with him just being weird, but it had become more than that. If things could be normal, if they could just be fine, did the rest really matter? Did she want to be so dramatic? Her mother was always calling her dramatic.