Nightside Read online

  Cable's something, at least, but it's not as good as having some Internet. Cammie back home probably thinks I'm dead. Maybe the school will have a faint signal, and by Sunday, I'm almost itching to see what Moon Peak High is going to be like. Maybe that mystery guy is going to be there.

  It's the only thing I have to look semi-forward to, because despite watching, I don't see the guy walking down the beach again.

  When Monday arrives, I get up to find that Mom's already visited the grocery store in town, wherever it is, and she's unpacking a bunch of meat into the yellow, rounded freezer that must be fifty years old. “To get to the high school,” she explains as I stop in the kitchen doorway. “walk through downtown and past the pier, and it'll be down the last street on the right. You'll like Moon's Peak, Olivia.”

  “I will? Is there Internet down there?” Hint, hint.

  “I was able to get a small signal,” Mom says with a smile. “I'm sorry about the internet situation. I'd be lying if I said I already had a job lined up out here.”

  “You...don't have a job at the local vet yet?” I ask, stomach dropping. Mom's a vet tech and it's been her only adult job.

  “Well, I thought I had one, but they gave it to someone else, which I just found out Thursday morning,” Mom says with a frown.

  That explains her blank expression the day we moved in. Her long spiel about new beginnings and having quiet time. Had I known, I wouldn't have stormed out the other night. “Mom, I had no idea. I'm sorry about my attitude.”

  “I should have told you the truth,” she says, closing the yellow refrigerator door. “You deserved it. I just didn't want to stress you out any more than necessary. But don't worry. I've applied to a few other places here in town, and someone has to take me eventually, don't they?” She forces a smile, but underneath lurks gray despair.

  I grit my teeth.

  Thank you, Dad, for this mess. Now Mom and I have to clean it up and she probably feels like she's failed me to boot. “You don't have to smile. I know this sucks. Once I'm at school, I'll ask around for a job. It can only help.”

  “You've dealt with enough,” Mom says, but I'm already hiking up my mostly-empty backpack and heading out the door. The last thing I want her to see is my anger, thinking it's directed at her.

  "No. I'll ask around," I say, waving to her.

  The sun hangs over the ocean this morning, partially obscured by thin clouds. The beach stretches out, empty and covered in sunken footprints. I only see a few old couples walking along it during the day, sometimes with little dogs, but that's it. But after the other night, I won't risk it.

  Walking along the side of the road helps relieve tension. Far ahead, I spot a couple other high school kids walking towards town. A bright orange backpack makes them easy to follow. The road curves and the beach vanishes from sight, obscured by trees, and after about ten minutes, the road opens up into a downtown best described as quaint. Also known as probably boring. The stores are all crammed together, connected by wooden walkways. One of them, a bookstore, has string lights in its windows. The smell of coffee wafts out of another, and a third appears to be a bank. Well, Moon's Peak doesn't look too awfully bad. I've heard of rust belt towns much worse than this, with literally nothing left but a bar, and...is that a Ferris wheel in the distance?

  Hiking up my backpack, I up my pace past a few old men gathered outside the coffee shop. None of them bother me. As the road curves, I glimpse the ocean again. There's a pretty large fair, complete with colorful tents, set out on a pier. Carnival games, too, even though no one's using them this early in the morning. Seagulls circle the area. A whole carnival. Mom could have mentioned that fact. At least I won't be completely bored.

  Turns out the high school is right where she says, down the road across from said pier. It's a pretty ordinary building, brick like every other school I've seen. A sign boasts the school mascot, a smiling lumberjack that is unintentionally creepy. I go in, apparently a bit early as there aren't many people inside yet, and find the office after walking through halls lined with painted brown lockers. An office lady in a checkered blouse prints out a schedule for me and then I set out to find all my classrooms before I look like a moron in front of the whole school.

  As I navigate, marking off class numbers with my fingernail, more people crowd the halls. Buses rumble outside. I fold my schedule as my palms tingle. Lots of the kids wear plaid, especially the guys, and I'm getting the idea they're from logging families. The girls, just like back home, have more fashion sense than the guys.

  And as the hallways fill and lockers slam, I find myself searching for the beach guy. He's the only person I've talked to so far. But a second pass through the building doesn't reveal him. I heave out a sigh of disappointment. Maybe he's home schooled and I really do have to start at the bottom. The warning bell rings, and I hurry off to my first class, sitting down while an Ecomomics teacher stands at the front of the room and starts an incredibly boring slideshow about supply and demand. His droning voice only adds to my worsening mood as I try to listen. Even when we're given an assignment, no one leans over to say hi to me. Not even the pimply guy sitting to my left or the short blond girl to my right.

  This is going to be awesome.

  Maybe Moon's Peak doesn't like outsiders.

  Once class ends, the halls crowd and clog once again, and I learn my first thing about the school dynamics: avoid the stairwell in the center of the building. There I fear a crowd crush and death, so I swerve down a side hall instead that ironically, has no one standing in it. Why isn't anyone cutting down this way?

  Well, almost no one stands in this hallway.

  He's here.

  The boy from the beach stands there, wearing his black leather coat and standing all cool beside the school goths. Five people in dark purple and black huddle beside a closed door to a storage room, and I freeze for a second, surveying the three girls and two guys leaning against the brick wall. One of the girls has perfect purple streaked hair while the other wears a black skirt that somehow makes her appear royal. Everybody has discovered the secret to perfect skin--a miracle--and as I break my paralysis and approach, these graceful people stop their muttering and go silent.

  The girl with the streaked hair looks at me first as I hike up my backpack, shifting to the side of the hallway to get through. My skin prickles. The girl's eyes narrow. Maybe people avoid this hallway for a reason. The girl sneers at me, showing a perfect row of teeth, and my palms break out into sweat.

  Hold it. I'm from freaking Chicago. I can handle a group of snobs. But then the guy from the beach follows the girl's gaze and our eyes lock with one another's. In the daylight, Beach Guy's eyes are very deep and almost regal, with flecks of reddish copper ringing his brown irises. I've never seen eyes like them.

  "Hi," I say, turning my attention from the girl. They're staring at me. All five of these kids are staring.

  The boy opens his mouth, his perfect lips.

  And turns his back to me in a snap of motion.

  An invisible hand slaps me in the face and I suck in a breath. The streaked girl snorts at me as I hurry past, stomach turning, and I press to the opposite side of the hallway as my legs carry me away from the dark, beautiful people. One of the guys fakes a threatening growl at me. There's something just...predatory about it.

  I turn another corner and merge back into traffic. One of the girls, a redhead with tan freckles, frowns at me like I've just tried to cross a busy expressway.

  Something is very, very weird here.

  The feeling stays. Why would the beach guy be nice to me and then act like an ass? I don't see any of the weird people in my classes again except for the growling dude, sitting in the back corner of third period and eyeing his phone. He's an attractive guy, too, with a perfect body, golden skin, and a well-proportioned forehead. But no one sits near him.

  When the lunch bell rings, my stomach isn't even ready for food. The day couldn't be a bigger disaster. But when I get up fro
m my desk, the redhead girl who saw me cutting through the Forbidden Hallway walks up to me, holding her books to her chest.

  "Hi. I'm Lily," she says. "Want to walk to lunch together?"

  "Sure?" She'll tell me why that hallway is so forbidden. "In case you haven't noticed, I made some kind of mistake earlier and walked through an area that apparently only belongs to Goths. I didn't see a sign up and I'd like to know if there are any other unspoken rules." At least someone's talking to me. That's a start.

  "Well, you're new. You didn't know." She frowns like she has a lot more to say.

  The mystery of the beach guy still calls, making my palms tingle, and I realize Lily might give me answers. She seems nice enough. We walk to the cafeteria, and when we get through the lunch line and settle down to food that actually isn't too bad, I notice that the Goths have settled in their own corner, farthest from the window and underneath a burned-out light. Appropriate. The beach guy's with them. All five sit without trays, and it's evident from looking at them that they never eat.

  "I wouldn't show you're paying attention," Lily says.

  I snap my gaze to her. "Well, they don't seem friendly."

  "They're not."

  Another thing becomes evident as we sit. No one else comes over to sit beside us. It's clear Lily is a loner. And of course, no one sits next to the goths. What should I call them, anyway? The ones at my old school were actually cool and talked to people. This group is in a league by themselves.

  "Well, they're weird," I say, picking at my green beans.

  "Don't cut down that hallway again." Lily's serious. "They look at you funny when you get too close. Like one of them wants to reach out and snatch you. Okay, they probably wouldn't do that, but you can't be too careful in this world. Statistics say crime happens everywhere."

  "Came from Chicago." I raise my hand. "Who's that guy in the black coat?"

  "Oh. Riley Beaumont. He only ever talks to his fellow creeps. His family runs half the town and they own all the logging companies."

  I let my gaze flick over to Riley. "They're rich?"

  Lily frowns. "He might be eye candy, but that whole family is stuck up and think they're above us country folk. Always having private parties. I think all of those kids are Beaumonts. Rumor has it they're a cult who sacrifice animals in their mansion basement."

  "They're all one family?" I ask, doing just what Lily warns me not to do. The guy from third period has a different skin tone than Riley and thick black hair, while the girl with the purple streaks is platinum blond. They don't look related.

  "Olivia. Don't. Look," Lily says.

  I can't tell her that Riley and I walked down the beach together yet. No way. I've heard plenty of gang stories and what if this is something similar? "Okay. I won't."

  Then Lily smiles. "Trust me. I've collected a bunch of theories on the Beaumont family in a notebook. Conspiracy theories, too. I'll have to show it to you tomorrow."

  "You collect conspiracy theories?" Uh, oh.

  "Hey. Some are interesting," she says. "And the Beaumont family is the most interesting thing in this town, trust me. But avoid those people at all costs."

  "I will." Can I? After that walk with Riley down the beach, I'm not sure I have that ability.

  * * * * *

  A dark figure stands at my window.

  "Shit!"

  I jump, abandoning my history homework on my desk. Yeah. Someone's out there, looking in on me all serial-killer style. And even better yet, I have the window open with just a screen to protect me. I grab for any object I can to protect myself. I usually keep out a baseball bat, but it's rolled under my bed, so I settle with my mug of hot cocoa.

  "Sorry. Sorry," Riley repeats in that perfect, deep voice. He holds up a hand.

  My eyes adjust. Relief.

  "Riley." I get off my desk chair and face my bedroom window. "You know, I could have been changing my clothes." Out in the night, Riley almost merges with his surroundings, a tree and several shrubs. He seems to have come out of the woods right behind my house.

  "With your curtains open?"

  "It's the woods," I say.

  "Oh. And you can drop the hot cocoa club."

  "You snuck up to my window and now you're telling me to drop my weapon?" Lily's words stick with me. But no one's with Riley so I put the mug back on my desk. "What was up with you...and that...earlier?"

  Riley frowns. "I came to apologize about that."

  "Huh?" I sense something genuine. "What was up with that? I mean, I got that there's some unspoken rule about not walking down that hallway and instead letting myself get crushed by the crowd around the stairwell--"

  "People spread rumors about my family. You're the first person in ages to break that rule," he says, turning the side of his mouth up into a smile. Riley. Is smiling. At me. And he's closing the short distance between him and my window. I watch as he places a perfect hand on my screen. "Well, they're not entirely false. I'm not supposed to talk to anyone outside my family in public, so I had to turn my back. You didn't know, Olivia."

  "What?" I ask. I wonder if this has to do with what Lily will show me tomorrow. "Your parents don't let you talk to people? That sucks."

  "Well, in public. If I keep it a secret, I can't get in trouble, can I?" Riley lifts one dark eyebrow. He's close enough for me to see the deep copper ring in his eye.

  Leaving my baseball bat behind, I walk up to the window. "What a rebel you are."

  "Hey. I don't meet girls often. Less often do I meet a girl brave enough to walk down the beach at night or down our hallway. I'm impressed."

  I can barely breathe in the presence of this hottie. Maybe Riley, like Lily, is looking for a fellow standout and now he's found her. "I didn't realize your family was so strict. So, we can only like, meet in private?" My whole body tingles at how forbidden it feels.

  "I like talking to you. It's refreshing. I was thinking we could hang out. Go down to the ocean for a bit. Unless you have to finish your homework right now."

  I'm popping out the old screen--an easy task in the Derp House--a few seconds later. Riley helps me remove it and then he replaces it in two seconds flat. Am I the first girl he's invited down to the ocean? How can I even ask that question? Riley looks like a senior, too, and there's always the chance--

  No. I won't think of that.

  "Come on," he says.

  We run down the gravel path to the empty beach together, and Riley announces it's safe as we reach the gravel sands. This night is much warmer than the other, though still a bit chilly, but instead of making me shiver, it feels good.

  "How about a swim?" Riley asks like he's daring me.

  "A swim?"

  "You know. Where you get in the water and paddle around. Isn't Chicago right on a lake?"

  "Yeah, but I never went swimming in it," I admit.

  "Well, try the ocean." Riley backs away from me and wades into the gentle waves. They curl around him like he belongs there, even as he removes his coat and throws it back to the sand.

  The moonlight is bright again tonight, and a mostly full moon shines on Riley's body. He wears a dark T-shirt that hugs his muscular chest, a shirt that's going to stick to him even more once he dives in the water. My heart races as he allows himself to fall back with a gentle splash.

  "Warm," he says, waving me in.

  I can't resist. I dive into the water next to Riley, and he's right. The ocean is surprisingly warm despite the chill the other night. He splashes me and I blink the water from my eyes. "Riley!"

  "Hey. You could have gotten me first."

  This isn't the same dude who turned his back on me earlier. But he is. I splash Riley back and he holds up his hand to block the onslaught.

  "Fair's fair," I say.

  "Want to go out a little deeper? There's no rip currents tonight," he says.

  "How do you know?" I ask. "They can be sneaky."

  Riley pauses and appears to listen, cupping his hand on his ear. "I've never heard of
any on this beach. Come on." He rises out of the water a bit and I can see his shirt sticking to his chest. He has outlines I could trace. I'm willing to bet he has a V, too. "And I'm a good swimmer. The trick with rip currents is not to ever swim against them. Swim parallel to shore and you'll get out."

  I want him to reach out and touch me--he hasn't done that yet, why won't he already?--but instead, he waves me deeper into the ocean. I turn to follow, but then my vision, adjusted to the dark, picks up three figures standing on the beach, in the direction I walked the other night. And they're watching us.

  The figures. Though they stand maybe two hundred feet away, they're the same creeps who followed me the other night. I recognize the broad shoulders and the confident stances.

  "Um, Riley? The Stalker Troupe is back." I try to sound funny, but I fail.

  He turns in the water, treading it perfectly. "They won't bother you so long as I'm here," he says with total confidence. "Do you have names for everything? First you have the Derp House and I bet you have a name for the hallway you cut down, too."

  I sigh, though his voice melts some of my tension. As I watch, the Stalker Troupe turns and walks back up the beach, away from us. Amazingly, Riley's right about them not bothering us. What is the deal? This town is weird.

  I tread water just a couple of feet from Riley. "I dubbed it the Forbidden Hallway."

  "I like that. It's like the Temple of Doom," he says.

  He has a sense of humor. My heart races, despite the fact that the creeps have left the beach.

  "You're not a bad swimmer," he continues. "Hey. Want to swim side by side in the opposite direction as those jerks?"

  "Yeah," I say. "That sounds good. Really good."

  First we swim, staying side by side, and once my muscles start to protest, Riley, who seems to be able to see better than me in the dark, waves me up to the beach.

  I extend my hand, and my palm tingles in anticipation of his skin touching mine, but as I emerge from the water, he stands with both hands behind his back, now dressed back in his long coat. Bummer. It hides his body and his tight clothes.