Restless Soul

5

   A chorus of chuckles, faint gasps, and mumbled comments was what Amanda arose to. With her lids still heavy with sleep, she struggled with opening her eyes more than usual. Covered by the weight of a hefty sheet of fatigue, she could tell that she wasn't in her room. Slowly but surely, her feet wandered deeper into consciousness. The surface that she laid on pressed into her skin and she winced at the feeling.

   It was then that the haze subsided and she rose her head, desperate to understand her new surroundings. Her mouth opened a little, her arms struggling to push her body up as she took in the sight of the large grass terrain, bordered by an army of benches. The high pillars stared down at her and she looked back at them with a confused air, "How..." she whispered to herself.

   Her gaze wandered to the scoreboard. Still fresh memories of the intense during which Matt had scored the final touchdown that led their team to victory began to materialize out of thin air as she slowly stood up. The cheers of the crowd were like ghostly whispers, a symphonic hymn that once again swept her out of reality.

"Damn, Amanda!"

   The voice called out behind her and suddenly, the lights were off, replaced by the natural clarity brought by the sun. Amanda twirled around instantly. The breath she'd sucked in couldn't seem to find its way out as she stared at the crowd, some faces recognized, others she didn't. As she tried to understand what had happened to her, a gust of wind blew past them and the goosebumps that rose all over her body were as fast as the panic that washed over her.

   She looked back at the crowd, now conscious of where their eyes lingered. With her hands, she shielded what she could from them. Disgust, confusion, and astonishment were all over their faces. An overwhelming wave now soaked her feet. She was drowning in anxiety and her confusion added a shock of vertigo to the mix, her lightheadedness nearly bringing her to her knees.

   As she struggled with her surroundings, Matt pushed his way through the crowd. Tristan had been hesitant to tell him the news, but Matt knew his sister and if she'd attracted a crowd, there was no way it was for a good reason. Regardless of the mental preparation, he froze when he reached the front, his jaw clenched as he scanned her over.

"Must've been one hell of a party!" somebodyshouted, the voice yanking him out of that daze, now aware that everyone around him could also see her.

Without wasting any more time, he walked over to her, pulling off his varsity jacket, placing it around her shivering form.

Amanda looked at him with thanks, but her eyes were still glassy.

   Never in her life had Amanda been so glad to see her brother. His face was hard, almost expressionless. Almost, but behind that thin curtain of confusion peeked a hint of worry. Amanda's legs buckled and she fell against her Matt's chest.

"Damnit, Amanda, stay up!" he growled over the loud choir of awes in the background.

She stared up at him, her lids flickering as she began to lose consciousness, breathing out the one word that could make his heart sink, "Steven..."

   It wasn't the first time he'd heard that name from her lips. When she mumbled it in her sleep in the midst of her night terrors, or the very first time she said it. The memory of a hot fourth of July evening came rushing back as he picked her up.

"The year before the pie was overcooked. The next you kids knocked the grill into the damn pool."

"Language," Sheryl groaned at her husband.

"I held back for your mother's sake that day, but we all know even you were dying to spit that thing out."

The woman chuckled, rolling her eyes as Matt reach for his soda.

"And the year before that, one of the fireworks blew up wrong and landed net to Steven."

Amanda looked around for an exchange of laughs but everyone stared at her as confused as the last.

"Who," Matt had asked, her grin falling.

"Steven... I... I think... I don't know. I think he was..."

"Amanda," Sheryl spoke sternly, "I told you I didn't want any of your nonsense today."

   She lowered her head, nodding. Matt's gaze lingered on her as he searched his brain for that scene she'd described. In the end, he brushed it off and as everyone else did, they went back to their celebration.

   Matt glared at anyone who dared to say anything as he walked past their audience. On the way, he memorized the face of the guy that yelled, "Don't do drugs!" He'd definitely need a way to get his mind off of his sister's shenanigans. Punching in the face of a loose-mouthed idiot could definitely take the edge off.

   The events of that morning spread like a wildfire. Before long, Sheryl Fulwood was made aware of the situation. She'd been considering letting off Kyle, her assistant the day he messed up her lunch order for the third time. Granted it was his first day, Sheryl was the furthest thing from chatty and Kyle didn't get the memo regardless of the groans she'd constantly let out every time he opened his mouth.

Of all the times he could've spared her the misery of hearing his voice, today was not it.

Shutting off her phone, Sheryl rose from her desk and pressed the intercom.

"Madame," Simon's usual greeting sounded from the device.

"Have you heard?"

   Simon hesitated to answer. Although under strict orders to not be disturbed, there were exceptions to every rule, but when it came to Sheryl, it was hard to distinguish when these rules applied. Having worked as Mr. Fulwood's bodyguard for over a decade, he knew very well how hostile Sheryl could be.

With a silent inhale, he nodded as he answered, "Yes, I have."

She remained silent.

   The tall brunette that was Sheryl Fulwood was the eldest daughter of the Patrice Smith, twenty-fifth mayor of Milton Oak's, having served four terms until his retirement ten years ago. Upon marrying Olivier Fulwood Junior, her ambition allowed her to prepare him for office. She was proud of her image and wished every day that her old man was still around, seeing as he never believed a man from the lower side of town could ever become mayor.

   Barring around her neck her grandmother's pearls, her gaze remained on the family photo on her desk. As always, Amanda was next to her father, while Matt was on her left. She never wanted a daughter. Raised among four sisters, her idea of a perfect family never featured a little girl. As always, Amanda twisted the knife in the wound, never missing out on the opportunity to make a mockery out of the Fulwood family name.

"Make sure Mr. Fulwood doesn't hear of this. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Prepare the car."

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