Chapter 4: Magnetism  

"Thank you Miss Hamilton," Mrs. Bedford said, startling me and breaking our unexpected gaze. "You can go back now." She nodded toward my seat and continued, "Mr. Reyes, what do you think about Rosalind in this scene?"

I turned my head to see if he was still looking at me, but the way his head hung forward told me he wasn't. I walked back to my seat and let down my blushed face in my hands. Thoughts flitted in my confused mind. What had just happened? Was it my imagination or he had, indeed, looked at me? No, scratch that. He'd stared at me, and the most confusing part had been that...that connection, tugging at the core of me. It was something out of this world, something I couldn't explain-maybe because of my inexperience with guys, but still, I knew this was different. That gaze had been too intense...

Was he thinking about me? I shook my head. God, repressing my hormones had finally taken its toll on me. Why on earth would he be thinking about me? There was nothing to think about. Nothing had happened. Period.

And I wasn't supposed to be thinking about him.

Did it count as thinking, though? Because if I wasn't really thinking, then thinking about him didn't really count. Was I making any sense? Absolutely not.

Just shut up, Kalista, shut up. You're having mental diarrhea.

The bell rang. A storm of scraping chairs thundered across the room and everybody dashed for the door. Tristan glided beside me without sparing me a glance and walked out into the hallway, joining the swarming mob outside that streamed in opposite directions. Had I been daydreaming? Perhaps I'd imagined everything. Those gray eyes had been too beautiful, too exotic to be real.

I shook myself out from the daze and stood up. "Hey, Valerie, can I borrow your English notes?" I asked her once she and Owen fell into step beside me.

"Sure," she said, handing me a Tinkerbell binder.

"Not paying attention, huh? Spacing out again?" Owen smiled, bumping his shoulder with mine.

"No, I wasn't spacing out. I just want to make sure I have everything right. Every person captures different ideas, you know," I told him, shoving the ridiculously girly Tinkerbell binder into my tote. "You like to observe people a lot, isn't it?"

"I do, as a matter of fact," he said, raising his finger in the air as if he was a philosopher about to announce his latest theory. "And my observing skills have noticed something regarding you."

I chuckled. "Really? Enlighten me, please."

"You don't have anything to do this weekend, right?"

"Right," I confirmed, looking at him suspiciously.

"So...why don't you go out with a friend of mine?" he proposed. I almost fell to the floor. "You're new in town-he can show you everything around."

Like a date? No, thank you.

"A friend of yours?" I asked.

"Dean. He's been asking about you the whole week," he said with an annoyed expression, scratching his head. "So you better tell him yes."

"Don't be pushy, Owen." Valerie poked him on the arm. "If she wants to go out with him or not, it's none of your business."

"Okay, okay," he said, rubbing his arm.

"And you better tell Dean we're not in fourth grade anymore. He can ask Kalista by himself."

I swallowed hard, nearly choking in the process. "No, no, it's fine. Don't worry. I-I won't be able to anyway. I still have to help my dad with the house. There are boxes everywhere..."

"Good luck with that," Valerie said, with a face that screamed not in a million years would I spend my weekend dealing with dust and boxes.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't very fond of the idea either, but instead I said, "Thanks," and forced out a smile. Letting her know about it wouldn't have helped me with anything. It would've given Owen the perfect spark to set off a talk to try and convince me to go out with his friend, and I would've ended surrounded by an unwieldy fire.

Who was Dean anyway? Why did he want to go out with me? During these past few days my social abilities had just permitted helloes and goodbyes, nothing interesting or worthy of note. But, to my dismay, this wasn't something unheard of in my life. It was actually pretty common. My low profile didn't seem to bother guys as it was supposed to. On the contrary, for some unexplainable reason, they seemed to be more attracted by it-all kinds of guys, from geeks and druggies, to football players and class presidents. And girls seemed to hate me, causing a huge lack in the female friend department; I guess the somewhat nice curves I'd grown into weren't helpful either. All of this had driven me to stay away from people. I hated drama, and I wanted to avoid it at all costs. Stephen had been the only one I'd kept close to me. And look how that turned out.

But I had a new life here, and Valerie didn't seem like any of those girls, so I'd decided to give it a try. Not on the dates, though. You might think I was used to being asked on a date, but I wasn't. It'd always been awkward and embarrassing. And I really didn't trust guys. Like my dad used to say, they all just wanted to have fun, no matter whose heart they squelched-and my heart wasn't ready for another squelch.

The morning passed quickly with Humanities and Biology. Valerie and Owen were in the same classes as me, except for French on Thursdays. Owen hated French. He said there was nothing romantic about a bunch of gargled words that got stuck in your throat, and since Valerie loved Spanish (she thought it was sexy as hell) he'd joined Mrs. Olivas class with Valerie.

Until now, Tristan only seemed to be in my English class, which was a big gulp of fresh air. After what happened this morning, his presence wasn't a plus. He was too distracting and-

And what was the matter with that blond guy running toward us-a lanky, muscular guy, running as if the world outside was crumbling to dust.

He skidded to a halt before us. "Hey Val, Kalista," he added, panting and looking at me, then shortly turning to Owen. "The coach called for a quick get-together. We gotta go."

"What-now? I'm starving!" Owen bawled.

Valerie shot him a stern look.

"Okay, okay...I guess duty calls then. Let's go," he told the tall guy and added, "See you both at lunch." He turned and sprinted down the bright-lit hallway.

But the tall blond didn't move. "Bye," he smiled at me, looking into my eyes with an odd sparkle.

I smiled, embarrassed, and his grin broadened. Then, as if remembering why he'd come, he turned to join a far-flung Owen.

"It seems you have a fan," Valerie murmured, tilting her head toward me.

My face turned tomato red. "He's just being nice with me."

"True. Dean is a really nice person-and good looking," she said, studying my face to see my reaction.

"That's Dean?" I asked with a twist in my stomach, the red in my face flushing to a white-hot crimson.

"Yep, the same one. He's on the football team with Owen."

I'd forgotten Owen was part of the Warriors. Since I didn't like football, minor things like that tended to slip my mind-I mean, bulky guys running and crashing against each other? No, thank you.

Dean seemed really nice, though. He was good looking and had a cute smile. I bet girls did like him, and being a football player had its perks. But I didn't care about those things. Most of the time I didn't think or didn't act like a normal girl. Even Stephen thought I was weird.

He'd once said to me there was something odd in me, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but that it was this same weird thing that attracted people to me.

I didn't know if that was good or bad, but I've always felt different, like I didn't belong here. Wasn't that how every teen felt, anyway? How cliché. I guess I did belong in this world, after all.

At lunch, we sat at our usual table with food trays of dry chicken and greasy fries. I looked around the cafeteria to check if Tristan was there. He wasn't. Gladness and disappointment poured down on me. I didn't know why. A girl passing by glanced at us. She had layered hair of a copper blonde color and pale blue eyes. Pretty overall, but the look was totally spoiled by the killer arctic glare in her eyes when she looked at me.

"Don't worry about her. It's just Chloe," Valerie muttered when she noticed I stiffened. "We used to be good friends, but we had some issues. She changed a lot when she became Dean's girlfriend."

"She's Dean's girlfriend?" I hissed, confused.

"No, she's Dean's ex. They broke up three months ago. She's been trying to get him back, but Dean isn't stupid."

Did Chloe think I was stealing him? He hadn't even asked me out yet. Actually, we hadn't even talked, so she couldn't be mad at me.

I frowned. Ugh. It was starting again, the girl-hate thing.

"Hey, now that we're on our own, I wanted to ask you something," Valerie said, bending over the table.

"About?"

"About what you think of Tristan," she lowered her voice.

I cleared my throat. "I-well-yeah, he's good looking." As in hot-out-of-the-oven-chocolate-soufflé good.

"He's way more than good looking, Kalista."

"Maybe," I said indifferently, looking away. "So, why isn't he here? He doesn't eat?"

She smiled. "He does, but most of the time he goes to have lunch at his house with his friends. I guess today is one of those days."

"Oh...and, why did he leave these past few days?" I was asking too many questions.

"I don't know. Some people say he went to see his girlfriend. Apparently she lives in western North Carolina."He has a girlfriend. "They call it the land of waterfalls. They say it's beautiful."

"Nice," I sighed. Of course he had a girlfriend. He was too good-looking to not have one. Lucky girl, I bet she was beautiful, too, a match made in heaven.

What is wrong with you! I slapped myself mentally. There was no reason for my bitterness. This was a good thing for me. He was with somebody, which proved I'd imagined his intense gaze this morning. Now the idea wouldn't flutter in my mind anymore.

"If he does have a girlfriend, she's the luckiest girl in the world. I mean, besides his obvious gorgeousness, he's so respectful and everything. Always smiling and saying hi to people, even if he looks like...I don't know, sad sometimes," she continued, lost in her thoughts. "And he never looks at other girls, even if he can choose whoever he wants. He must really love his girlfriend-if he does have one."

He definitely had a girlfriend. "What makes you think he doesn't?"

"Well, I haven't seen her with my own eyes. Some have, though...seen her. They say she has long platinum hair, blue eyes and long legs...you know, like a runway model," she added enviously. "Actually, it seems she is a model-but that's another rumor."

It wouldn't be too surprising if his girlfriend was a model.

"I'm back!" Owen called, sitting next to Valerie with a friend. The guy glanced at me and smiled, more friendly than I would've liked. "Man, I'm starving!"

"What a surprise," Valerie said with a roll of her eyes.

Owen started babbling with his flirty friend about plays and strategies. I didn't know why they needed to carry on with that at the table. Wasn't it enough to practice the whole week? At least, the talk was keeping that flirt busy, distracting him from bumping his knee against mine whenever he could. Ugh. I hoped he didn't have a girlfriend or anything.

I turned away annoyed and spotted Dean across our table, talking and laughing with some football players and girls, having a good time. With a twist of his head, he looked in my direction and caught my eyes. He smiled at me. A flush of embarrassment brushed my face. Trying to be polite, I smiled back before turning away. The first thing that flashed into my mind: Chloe. I hoped she wasn't watching, and I was too much of a coward to see if she was.

Later that day, Valerie and Owen offered to take me home, but since I had a date to the supermarché I was left alone waiting for my ride.

The sky was filled with cottony clouds, reminding me of my childhood when I used to search for animal shapes or magical dragons, taking flight with my imagination. Sometimes I still did it, like now, but-boom! Tristan's face flashed into my mind.

Jesus! Why am I thinking about him so much?

Anyway, he was nowhere to be seen-luckily. Maybe he decided to stay home and...Crap! I was thinking about him again. But it was hard not to. His gorgeous face was stuck in my head and his laugh still resonated in my ears.

Please stop thinking about him. Please.

"Hey Kalista," said a familiar voice. My stomach tensed. "So...they left you waiting, huh?" Dean said with a smile.

"Kind of." I looked down, uncomfortable.

"You need a ride?" he asked.

No. No. "Thanks, but I promised my dad I would go with him some place." Note to myself: being alone made you look available.

"My name is Dean by the way."

Like I didn't know it already. "Hi Dean." I smiled.

"Hey. So...what are you, uh, doing this weekend?"

I gulped. "Well...I need to help my dad to unpack things..." I explained, embarrassed.

He looked disappointed, heart-sickeningly disappointed. Something about this nice guy feeling like this tugged at my heart. Before I realized what I was saying, it was too late. "But...but maybe next weekend we can do something."

"Sure," he said immediately, his baby blue eyes widening. "Next weekend, then?"

I hesitated for a moment, slapping my forehead inwardly for what I'd just done. "Next...weekend," I finally promised.

"Great. I, uh-well, enjoy the unpacking process," he said with that odd sparkle playing in his baby blues. "See you on Monday." He smiled and walked away.

How stupid could I get? Really. This town was messing up with my mind.

And where was my tote? I patted my hip with my hand. I gave out an exasperated sigh and rushed to the school's entrance and into the hallway. There was nobody wandering the polished floors for once, just a guy rummaging inside one of the blue lockers at the bottom. I was about to reach the classroom, when he suddenly snapped his locker shut, turned and saw me a few feet away. Again, surprise filled his beautiful eyes.

They were real.

I froze, my feet anchored to the ground, my heart racing. Tristan didn't move, but his surprise had now turned into interest, his narrowed eyes staring at me with breathtaking curiosity. I wasn't imagining this. He was staring at me. It felt too real, too strong. Something inside me wanted to move. Something about him called me. I felt again that unexplainable connection. But I couldn't move. I couldn't think. My heart was about to pump out from my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't anything. Everything became blurry-the lockers, the walls, the doors, all diffused into hazy forms. It was just him and me, staring at each other.

Until an earsplitting snap made me jump, breaking our gaze. I turned and spotted the back of a copper blonde head. Chloe. Had she snapped close her locker door on purpose? When I turned back, I saw Tristan already moving in my direction. I opened the classroom and strode inside in a flash, closing the door with a hasty pull. I went to grab my tote from beneath the seat and waited a long moment, expecting to see his figure through the door window.

But I never saw it.

I pulled open the door, scanned the hall and slipped outside. He wasn't there anymore. I sighed in relief.

"Come on, honey!" My dad called out through the window once he saw me crossing the lawn. It was so green that it looked like something out of an Irish postcard.

I glanced toward the parking lot, and the relief I'd felt moments ago got stuck in my throat. Definitely a postcard. Tristan was talking with that same friend of his, leaning his shoulder against what seemed to be his car, a huge shiny angular thing with the coolest orange metallic color. It looked like a Hummer, a more compact one with bigger wheels. It had only two doors instead of four, and though its design could be easily mistaken for a Jeep, its style was definitely more aggressive.

He looked really good by its side. A strong and unique car, just like him. It looked like a scene from a magazine.

As if sensing my eyes on him, he turned and looked at me, just for a second. Then, he lowered his head as if thinking something over, pulled open the driver's door and slipped inside. The tinted windows concealed him completely.

I frowned and climbed inside the Escape. "Hey, Dad." I said, snapping the door shut behind me.

He studied me, huge question marks spreading across his eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"What's the matter with you? You look...stupefied. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking about...Rosalind." I hesitated. What else could I say?

Confusion hit his face.

"You know, Shakespeare."

"Oh..." He looked back at the windshield and pulled us out from the parking lot.

On the way, I couldn't stop thinking about that scene in the hallway with Tristan, about the fact that he'd stared at me for a long minute, about the fact that his beautiful eyes had been sparkling with interest.

Had he sensed that weird, appealing "vibe" in me that Stephen had mentioned? Or was it mere curiosity? It was, after all, the first day he'd seen me at school, so feeling curious about the new girl was entirely normal.

The only thing beyond my reach, however, the one I couldn't understand, was that connection, that pull. Something I'd never felt in the past and couldn't describe. Something bizarre.