The Legend of the Firewalker, Book #1

Chapter 4.2

Author Note:

Thank you so much for taking the time to read the Legend of the Firewalker on Wattpad!  I also appreciate your support and for voting!

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Chapter 4.2

The walk back to the cottage was agonizing. Nathan's mind was going a mile a minute. He was worried about his constantly trembling hands and his dreams about Leah. The thought of all this being real and not just a dream was frustrating. His mind just kept circling, coming to the same questions over and over, for which he had no answers. 

How could this be possible? he asked himself sitting on his bed. How am I dreaming about her? He sighed heavily while kicking off his shoes. Am I psychic, or something? 

Nathan felt like he had just entered into a freak show starring himself as the main attraction. The voice of the show announcer played in his head, Step right up to see the boy who can see you in his dreams and make an awesome milkshake with his trembling hands.

"I need to get off this weirdness train!" Nathan shouted, throwing himself down on his bed. "Why do I have to be so weird?" He stared hopelessly at the ceiling. "I'm already the poor brown kid who lives behind the Devaro Mansion."

He shook his head and groaned. "After tonight, with the whole fruit punch incident, I'm sure everyone has added strange or weird or worse — loser — to my trophy case of adjectives." He sighed again. "And to make matters worse, I can't get the shocked look on Lafonda's face out of my head."

He paused, remembering how beautiful she had looked in her white dress and with her silky, curly black hair. "I'm such a loser!" he said aloud. "I ruined her dress and I definitely ruined her birthday." He raised his hands up to the ceiling and examined them. "This uncontrollable shaking has to stop, and so do the nightmares," he moaned. "But what am I supposed to do?"

With his eyes, he traced over his red hands, which seemed to tremble intermittently now. Frustrated, he sprung out of bed and headed into the small bathroom connected to his room. He began to scrub his hands with soap and water in an attempt to get some of the red out. 

Nathan looked up at himself in the mirror and noticed the pattern of red dots splattered across his white shirt. "Great!" he said. "My only good white shirt!"

Slowly, he dried his hands, which he noticed were now bright red from all the scrubbing, and then took off his jacket and white shirt. Nathan eyed his favorite IUCF T-shirt, which was resting on the back of his desk chair, but decided not to put it on because he normally slept without one, anyway. 

"Ugh!" he moaned, suddenly scratching the palms of his hands. "I thought I was done with all the scratching!" Abruptly, he tried to scratch the palm of his hand with his teeth. "Okay, I give up!" he yelled. "This must be a rash, or something!" 

He rolled his eyes. "I hate to admit it," he sighed, "but I'm all out of ideas. Where's the ointment Roy gave me?" There was a sudden knock on his bedroom door, and Nathan launched himself to lay flat on his bed. "You can come in Roy!" 

"It's me — Lafonda."

Nathan quickly sat straight up in his bed. Lafonda? he thought. She never comes over. He began to fidget with his hands. "This must be serious," he muttered. "She must be really upset about my ruining her dress, not to mention her birthday party."

"Can I come in?" she asked. "I understand if you're busy. I can come back later."

Nathan opened the door to his bedroom to see Lafonda standing there with a slight smile. She looked different than the last time he'd seen her: traumatized and soaked with red fruit juice. She had changed clothes and had a calm, almost relieved, look on her face. Without the makeup and fancy clothing, she looked more like the Lafonda that he was used to. Her hair was still curly, but it was Lafonda all the same.