The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) (6 page)

BOOK: The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1)
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“Honey, she’s fine,” Dad said, pulling the car keys
out.

Mom bit her nails a moment before letting out the breath she was holding in. “Oh, all right. Go on. But be
safe.”

I grabbed the keys and swung open the front door. “Always.”

When I stepped onto the porch and saw my new car for the first time, my feet stuck to the ground. I needed a moment to appreciate what my dad and brothers had done for me before my true feelings of not digging this car erupted. As I finally got past the forest-green paint and the ugly wagon style, I knew the only reason why Max and Casey had picked this grandma-looking car: horsepower.

“I got new snow tires for you. I know it’s early, but there was a deal at the mechanics that I couldn’t pass up. And the engine runs great,” Dad said proudly, crossing the lawn and opening the driver’s
door.

My teeth gritted, but I smiled to hide my embarrassment. I reluctantly slid into the Subaru’s weathered tan leather seat, tossing my bag into the back. It kurplunked heavily when it landed. “Thanks, Dad.”

The key stuck when I turned it. I had to swivel the wheel and twist the key at the same time. I rolled down the window. When I looked up at Mom, I noticed the flowers at my bedroom window. “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for the
roses.”

“What
roses?”

My forehead warmed with panic.
If she didn’t put them there, then who?
I mustered a fake chuckle, hoping she couldn’t tell there was a pit hollowing my stomach. “Oh, I must have put them there before the accident. I
forgot.”

It was difficult raising a smile when I felt so confused. I had no choice but to drive away before my greening face caused a commotion.

Sierra Nevada College was in Nevada, on the northeast side of Lake Tahoe. The lake’s woodsy terrain extended up to the school, providing a generous perimeter of large pines and fir shrubs that filled the air with an evergreen scent. Their buildings were few, featuring large windows and cedar beams that looked sleek against the mountainous backdrop.

I parked on the north side, close to the entrance, near a patch of trees between the dorms and the cafeteria. As I walked toward the buildings, my nose buried in the campus map, a rip of pain drove my fists to my temples. My papers fell everywhere, but I pressed even harder against what felt like brain freeze. When the pain subsided, I glanced at the mess, annoyed. I bent down to pick them up, but another sudden throb pushed deep into my temples like icy
thorns.

“Ow!”

I was reaching for the papers, squinting against the pain, when I saw another hand grabbing them. I stood up quickly to say thank you, but froze when I recognized the boy from Lucky
Pin.

His chin was unshaven and full of dark scruff. I could tell he definitely did not just graduate from high school; most boys my age couldn’t grow hair on their faces like that. The smile curling across his face spread from cheek to cheek, too perfectly. I wanted to drool. I gulped and blinked harder. His blue eyes were like quicksand, and I was sinking fast. I felt my heartbeat go irregular when his eyes squinted in sudden amusement. Somewhere in the space below his face, his arm stretched out with my papers. I looked down haphazardly, reminding myself to close my mouth and blink normally as I reached for
them.

“Thanks,” I said, nervously swiping loose hair behind my
ear.

I looked down because staring at him did something to my ability to move, and worried that I looked pathetic. His bare feet wore the same blue sneakers from that night. I drew my eyes slowly upward, astonished that he was here. I could see outlines of muscles underneath his deep V-neck shirt, as well as his tattoo, which was now a bland black marking. I was staring at it in awe, remembering its glowing blueness, wanting to reach out and touch it, when a sudden change of scent in the air caught my attention. It was the scent that had lingered in my room after the accident. I dared to look back up, feeling stunned . . . and violated. My new, uncontrolled anger took over, and I glared at
him.

“You.” I barely managed the
word.

He smiled at my obvious frustration and spoke with a Latin accent so hot it startled dormant butterflies in my stomach. “How are
you?”

“You! But . . . how?”

“Me
what?”

I tried to remain composed, but no one’s voice was that sexy. It made me giddy, which made me angrier.

“The car crash, how did . . .” Suddenly I couldn’t remember what I was going to say. In that instant, a tear of pure horror swelled in the corner of my eye. “Were you in my
room?”

He scuffed his shoes on the pavement. “What? Of course not.” He plastered on a smile, laughing as he held out his hand. “I’m Lucas Castillo.”

I must have sounded ridiculous, accusing a stranger of being in my room, and I had very hesitantly inched my hand into his when I got zapped. It didn’t hurt—it turned into a soft tingle. It was exciting, even, like the nerves you get from a first kiss, but I pulled away, scared, and looked up. His mouth was agape, and he seemed just as curious as
I.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

He recovered with a gorgeous grin and swiped his hand through his dark hair. “I go to school
here.”

My body pounded for answers. “Did you get me and my friend out of the car that
night?”

His arms folded, and he stared as if I were mad. “What are you talking
about?”

“You’re the anonymous ‘young gentleman’
everyone was talking about in the hospital. Aren’t
you?”

He dropped his gaze and put his hands in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot. “Look, I don’t know what you saw, but I wasn’t
there.”

“I saw
you.”

He straightened up, cupped his hands behind his neck, and stretched, looking annoyed. His voice was harsh as he stared at the sky. “I’ve got to go. See you in
class.”

Then he crossed the parking lot and disappeared. I stared for a moment, baffled, then went on with my
day.

As I walked to the cafeteria for lunch, the harsh afternoon breeze chilled me to the bone. I pulled my cardigan tight around me as I entered. I noticed that everyone had turned to stare out the window. Ashley, Hayden, Tana, Tyson, and Tommy all stood in a circle, eyes glued to the far corner of the parking
lot.

Bri came up next to me, Jett close behind her. “That’s Gabriella Castillo. She’s our new English TA,” she said, her eyes on the three cats putting books in a car with a Lexus emblem on the back. It was white and, judging by the sportiness, very expensive. “When I’m her age, I want to look that
good.”

“Bri, she looks the same age as us,” I remarked.

“Who buys their freshman kids Porsches and LFAs?” Jett huffed jealously.

“Theirs do,” Bri
said.

Though I remembered how pretty they all were from Lucky Pin, it was hard not to notice their exotic beauty in the mix of us fresh-out-of-high-school college kids. In the daylight, their faces were even more enchanting, to a degree I knew neither I, nor anyone I knew, would ever achieve. Even their posture was perfect; they were like models posing at a photo shoot for tanning
oil.

Gabriella’s face was pure loveliness—when it wasn’t upset. She had a small nose, and I actually admired her large, accentuating eyebrows when they weren’t furrowing at me. The long eyelashes complemented them well. Her collection of gold bracelets reflected the sun’s brightness in a shower of light. I was wondering how heavy all that jewelry was, or if it was even real, when I realized that the blond boy and Lucas wore bracelets too. Theirs were finer and made with dark threads or leather.

Out of nowhere they started arguing, as they had at Lucky Pin. Lucas was spitting words at them while the other two stood there and took
it.

“What are they fighting about?” Tana looked concerned through the pound of makeup caking her
face.

Tommy, Bri’s crush, snorted. “Look at all of you—it’s pathetic.” He slid a trucker hat over his short hair, letting the light brown curls stick
out.

I felt a light touch on my arm and flinched slightly.

“You okay?” Jett
asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know. You seem different.”

Bri slid to my side and swung her arm around me. “She’s perfect; look at
her.”

He looked me up and down. “That’s my point.” Bri skipped off to see some other friends, but Jett leaned in so only I could hear. “Shouldn’t you still have bruises on your skin, or scabs at least? How did they all go away so
fast?”

“Jett!” Tommy yelled. “Let’s go. The boat’s ready. I want to get as much wakeboarding in as possible before the sun goes
down.”

“We’ll talk later,” Jett said. He ran to catch up with
Tommy.

Jett was right, but I couldn’t let him know that. I flipped back around to watch Lucas, a thousand questions running through my
mind.

It was strange how swiftly their composure changed. They were now leaning against their cars in a daze, staring off in different directions. I almost felt bad for how strange it seemed, this lack of recognition of each other. If I had only glanced over briefly, they would have appeared to be waiting for someone, but the longer I stared, the more it seemed they were mourning something.

“They’re the family that built that big house on Fallen Leaf Lake,” started Tyson, Tana’s boyfriend.

“What does their dad do?” Ashley asked, her cinnamon hair falling perfectly straight down her
back.

“Nobody knows. My mom works at
Tahoe Review Journal,
and she said that the lady who interviewed them for the welcome column told her that their parents objected to doing the interview. Something about a death in the family made them too sad, so it was Dylan who did the interview,” Tyson commented.

“Dylan?” I
asked.

“Yeah, the blond with the hot English TA—I mean, wife,” Tyson corrected. Tana snorted, and he smacked a kiss on her cheek. “Not as pretty as you, of
course.”

Tana rolled her eyes and turned her shoulder away from him as she crossed her arms. There was a chill from the window when Bri stepped
closer.

“What sort of business do you think they have here?” she
asked.

“Probably the illegal sort,” Tana retorted.

I watched their beauty more closely. They were too graceful, too fluid, and they definitely weren’t here for anything illegal. It was something else entirely, my intuition informed me. Suddenly, Lucas directed his gaze toward me. I froze again. The thought of our skin tingling together frightened me, and I remembered how my room had smelled of him. I was starting to dislike him more already.

He held his stare as his lip curved up crookedly, saturated with curiosity. Still looking at me, he said something that made the other two follow his gaze. I glanced away quickly, but the shiver still came, knowing they were watching. But then his
See you in class
jarred my next step, and I couldn’t help but look
back.

When he waved to me with a taut smile—as if he knew I would look back—I swung around, somehow
upset.

“Hey, Zara, we’re all going to the movies. Want to come?” Tana
asked.

I couldn’t think straight, not with the feeling I was being watched. I tightened my grip on my bag and looked away. “Not today, Tana. I’ll catch one next
time.”

I was on Lake Tahoe Boulevard when I decided Lucas was like a scratch ’n’ sniff. There should be a sign plastered to his shirt that says
scratch here,
because you can only scratch so far before you realize you aren’t going to get anything in return. Nothing but a bad taste in your
mouth.

A migraine formed later that night as I washed the dishes. It had a cold edge to it, like an ice pack left on my head. Mom let me leave the dishes to go upstairs and rest. I had just opened my bedroom door when my cell rang. I leaped for it and stubbed my pinky toe on the hardcover history book I’d left on the floor. I picked up the phone, cursing at myself for the agonizing
throb.

“Zara?”

I sat down, reached for the wretched book, and angrily tossed it on the bed. “Hey, Bri.”

“Oh my heck. That family, here?” she started, sounding
elated.

“Yeah. Imagine,” I said, more interested in rubbing my
toe.

“I have a
theory.”

“Theory?”

“Yes. They’re cops, the undercover kind. Something is about to go down at our school. You just wait. I’m always
right.”

“Bri, they are not undercover cops,” I declared.

“You’ll see. Hey, listen. I wanted to call you and get your okay with
this.”

She suddenly sounded bubbly. It made me nervous. “With
what?”

“The girls and I decided we should do a girls’ night at the new club in Reno and . . . we wanted to invite that new TA, Gabriella.”

I didn’t have a problem with Gabriella. It was her steamy brother who gave me a funny feeling, a deep-in-my-soul bad feeling. I didn’t feel right about
this.

“Why? You just said you thought she was a
cop.”

“I did. Don’t argue. And besides, I want her to be our friend. And then if she is a cop, she can protect us if something goes wrong. Where do you think she keeps her
gun?”

“Bri, one, we don’t need protection, and two, Gabriella is married.”

“So? Married people have friends,” she said. She sounded so
naïve.

I laughed, baffled. “Yeah, other married
people.”

“Well, she said yes. So everyone is meeting at my house on Friday after school. Oh, and we’re crashing at my house after,” she added quickly.

“Did I ever have a say in
this?”

She paused. “Well, not
really.”

“Then why did you bother to call
me?”

“I don’t know? Habit I guess. You will be there, though,” she insisted.

“Bri, I don’t . . .”

“Great, see you then!” Her voice went up an octave as if she’d inhaled helium. “Got to go. Tommy’s calling.”

I tossed my phone on the pillow, went to the bathroom, and brushed my teeth, deciding to shower in the morning. After I put on my pajamas, I rolled onto my bed and stared at the white-and-red flowers sitting on the windowsill. Max and Casey must have gone to the grocery store to buy them. Mom didn’t have those kind of roses in her garden, and she wasn’t the buying-flowers type. They were nice to look at, though, and I fell asleep admiring
them.

BOOK: The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1)
2.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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