Silverlighters (revised version as I edit)

8

          8

My father was already waiting out the front in the car for me when school finished, and I was pleased to see he’d taken my advice and had his hair cut. He’d also trimmed his beard.

“Better,” I said as I opened the door. “But you still need a shave.”

He started drilling me before my bum even hit the seat.“Anything I need to know?”

“Like what?” I shot back. “I still have no idea what’s going on. How can I possibly know what you need to know?”

He grunted. But he didn’t ask me any more questions.

Instead, he left me to my thoughts.

All up, I thought my first day living a lie went well. Better than I could have expected, really. As far as I could tell, I didn’t make any blunders of the sort that would worry my father, unless you consider having a photo of my boobs taken risky.

“You didn’t see anyone acting suspicious?” my father tried again as soon as we walked in the front door.

“They’re teenagers, dad.”

“Point taken.”

I couldn’t get to my room fast enough.

I didn’t think to mention Jonathon and the rest of them. There was no crime in being strange, and I was just glad my first day was over and done with.

Besides, I was still confused by my strong reaction to Jonathon. The way he made me feel nervous when I was near him.

Sure – he was good looking – not to mention he was put together in a way that made my heart stutter.

But it was only when I was near him that it overwhelmed me. As though just breathing him in, being in his space, did something to me.

I didn’t like the way it made me feel – I wasn’t that girl – the one that turned into a bumbling idiot the second a cute boy showed me attention.

And I didn’t like his cocky attitude earlier that morning, or understand how I could see two completely different sides to him all in the space of a few hours.

Which one was the real Jonathon?

And why the hell was I still thinking about him?

I dumped my bag on the bed, and took a deep breath.

Even though I hadn’t admitted it to my father, I liked my bedroom. It was on the second floor, and was nearly twice the size of my last bedroom.

It had a bay window with a seat built into it that overlooked the enormous tree in our back yard.

The down side – the walls were covered in horrid pink wallpaper with little yellow flowers on it – but I planned on fixing that if we stayed long enough.

I also liked that we were living in a house and not an apartment. First time ever that I can recall. Maybe we could get a dog. The only pet I’d ever had was a fish.

The verdict was still out on whether I liked Berrywood or not. I’d never lived in an actual town before.

In some ways it made me feel safer. The street we lived on was so quiet I figured if anyone came after my dad, we’d notice. But it was also harder to hide in such a small place.

I groaned in frustration, wishing my dad would just tell me what was going on.

We had no idea back then that the wheels were already turning. That the danger was already headed straight for us, even then.