Under Sunless Skies (Starlight Saga Book 2) Read online

  For some reason the way he asks instantly puts me on edge.

  “My mom’s into herbal remedies,” I say casually.

  He strolls around the car and grabs the sponge swimming on top of the suds in the bucket. “I’ll get the roof. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself.” Saxton wipes the tinted moonroof. “You coming back to school soon?”

  Backing up, I brush damp strands of hair off my forehead. “Next week. Why?”

  “I keep bumping into Viola, which makes things thorny. It would be less awkward if we had a buffer.”

  “Meaning me.” I roll my eyes. “Gee, and here I thought you might not have an agenda.”

  Saxton crouches to clean a spot on the door. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re home because I wanted to talk.” He drops the sponge, then grasps the hose lying like a twisted snake on the lawn, and squirts the car with water. The bubbles flow down the sides like a frothy waterfall.

  “About?” Creeptastic notes left in my locker?

  Saxton faces me, and I barely dodge the spray of water as he tackles the opposite side of the car. “I was wondering why you and Hayden broke up.”

  Okay, now he’s annoying me. Even the cops weren’t this nosey. His random questions are starting to make him seem highly suspicious, as if he’s trying to dig up dirt on me.

  “Why? What does it matter?”

  “Just curious,” he replies with a shrug.

  “Well, it’s none of your business.” I grab the dish soap, enter the garage, and put the bottle on a shelf. I walk back out into the bright sunlight, wishing I’d lathered with a hundred-plus sunblock.

  He squints at me. “So how much do you really know about this loner guy named Hayden you used to date?”

  “Same as everyone else at school. He skulks around campus, unsocial and extra moody.”

  Saxton makes an affirmative snort. “And he broke your heart.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Yeahhh,” he drags out the word, moving around the car to finish rinsing it. “He did, didn’t he?”

  I glare at him. “You can go now.”

  “Hey, now. Don’t get butthurt.” He stops and peers over his shoulder at me. His wet shirt clings to every hard plain and muscle on his torso. “Did you forget I know the Lancasters? Those two have left a parade of rejected girls in their wake. Each time they moved, they’d leave some girl all weepy and posting broken heart emojis on Twitter.”

  I’m beyond fed up with people warning me away from Hayden.

  I straighten my shoulders and stubbornly lift my chin. “My emojis are just fine. Thanks for your concern.” Crossing my arms, I watch the blood and dirt roll off the car, flowing down the driveway and into the gutter.

  “We don’t really know each other, and that’s gonna make it harder for you to hear what I have to say about Hayden. But you can’t trust him.”

  My chest constricts. One of the blackmail notes warned me not to trust anyone. Saxton seems more guilty by the second.

  “Why would you say that?” I ask with narrowed eyes.

  “There are things you don’t know about him…he’s got secrets.”

  “Not from me he doesn’t.”

  “You’d be wrong.”

  “How would you know?” I demand.

  “Look, I just do, okay? I’ve known the Lancaster boys a lot longer than you have, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.” Saxton yanks on the hose for extra length and squirts water on the tires. “So, why’d you and Hayden end things? Is it because of his parents?”

  This guy seems obsessed with the breakup, making me totally creeped out. It’s as if Saxton has my relationship with Hayden fixed in his sights like a hunter going after a deer.

  “Sorry, but I’m not answering anymore of your dumb questions.”

  He lifts one eyebrow. “Even though I’m helping you wash the car?”

  I point at the car. “You missed a spot by the fender.”

  “Have you met Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster yet?” He rinses the soap off my bumper, and I shake my head. “Meeting the family is like a rite of passage with any relationship, but if you guys had been dating for a while and you haven’t been introduced, that’s a huge red flag.”

  “Not if you’re broken up,” I mumble.

  “Hayden’s parents are not the friendliest people. The band never practiced at Hayden’s house because they’re super strict. I’m still wondering why you never met them.”

  I kick at the gravel. “We weren’t dating that long, and it was complicated.”

  “When isn’t it?” Saxton strides to the faucet and shuts off the water. “Sorry if I touched on a sore topic.” He wraps the hose into a big spiral loop. “How long have you lived here?”

  “You ask a lot of random questions.” I shift the conversation back to him. “How many places have you lived?”

  “About thirteen different cities in California. I think I like it here best.”

  I grasp the bucket and sponge. “So why are you here, other than bringing my missed assignments?”

  “Which you haven’t thanked me for.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.” As I place the supplies back inside the garage, I’m tempted to push the button and shut the automatic door on him.

  “Is it me? Or are you always this guarded?” he says with a hint of irritation.

  “No. It’s just you.” I grab an old bath towel lying in the garage and dry the hood.

  Saxton chuckles. “Well, damn. Tell me how you really feel.”

  I yawn loudly, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Thanks for helping me clean the car.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” He wrings out a corner of his drenched shirt.

  Grey clouds drift over the sun, blocking the light and casting a long shadow across the yard. I wipe my hands off on a towel and don’t answer.

  Saxton ambles into the garage and leans an elbow on a dusty shelf of painting supplies. With his other hand, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around a wet strand of my hair. “What color is this? Purple?”

  Boundaries, dude!

  Stepping back, I seize my hair from his grasp. “No. Lavender.”

  “Pretty,” he replies, his expression turning wolfish.

  Oh, no. Romantic triangle trope alert!

  My insides tighten. It might be time to go back to my natural color if it’s attracting silver-tongued guys like Saxton Ridge.

  He moves closer in a gross invasion of my personal space. Saxton crosses his arms, his gaze sliding over my bare legs and traveling up to my breasts—and yeah, I can totally win a wet T-shirt contest—then my face.

  Sheesh! They’re just boobs!

  “Hmmm, I think you and I should hang out sometime.”

  I sidestep his body. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

  “You should go out with a guy who isn’t embarrassed to be seen with you.”

  “Hayden wasn’t embarrassed!” I snap. “He had good reasons for not telling people we were dating.”

  “Of course, he did.” Saxton sighs. “You gotta get over him, Sloane, or he’ll just keep jerking you around.”

  A bundle of nerves form in my stomach.

  “Hayden isn’t doing that to me.” I swallow and add, “Look, you seem like an okay guy, so listen up, my relationship with Hayden is an off-limits topic, got it? And you and me, it’s not gonna happen.”

  “Duly noted.” He lifts both hands in surrender. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That’s not my intention.”

  “Yes, it is. You’re incredibly interested in my love life, which is extra creepy.”

  We walk out of the garage and stand in the driveway. The Jetta sparkles in the afternoon sunshine.

  My mom opens the front door, and steps out onto the porch, shielding her eyes with one hand. “Sloane? Who’s that with you?”

  Saxton grins, all teeth. “Hello there, Mrs. Masterson!”

  “Hello,” she says, straining her head to get a look at him.

 
“Mom, this is Saxton Ridge, a friend from school who was just leaving.”

  She looks from me to Saxton. “Are you new here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My dad lives here and I go to Haven High.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She smiles softly. “I might know your father. What’s his name? Does he work on the island? Or attend the PTA meetings?”

  Saxton’s facial muscles tense. “Ah, no. He’s a private contractor.” He waves at my mom and me while backing away. “I should get going. Don’t want Sloane to exhaust herself on my account.”

  I’m still standing by the open garage and my mom’s on the porch as Saxton saunters off to his truck parked and drives away.

  “He seems nice,” she says.

  I roll my eyes. “No. Just no, Mom.”

  “Is it because of that Hayden boy?”

  I sigh. “Everything’s because of him.”

  FRIGHT NIGHT BABBLE

  Hey there, Grinning Gremlins!

  Today’s post is about clichés that make my stomach churn! Let’s face it: Sci-Fi is often silly. Now, I’m talking about Sci-Fi, not science fiction. Amongst geeks like me, who can make a distinction between the two, science fiction deals with how science will change the human world, while Sci-Fi typically has ray guns and world-invading aliens.

  The worst trope is that these creatures from outer space are always smarter than humans.

  I’m all in favor of extraterrestrial-provoked threats to mankind, but just once can Earth encounter an intelligent lifeform that isn’t as advanced as us? The aliens have cutting-edge technology, and look down their green noses on the human race as an inferior species that needs to be eradicated so they can harvest our planets’ resources.

  There’s nothing wrong with the trope, but why can’t humans bump rocket ships with an interplanetary race that matches us in brainpower? We can chat about binge watching our favorite TV shows or discuss whatever eBook we’re reading.

  Peace, love, and horror flicks,

  Sloane

  FIFTEEN

  The last thing I want is to be sporting a black eye on my first day back at school, but luckily, Hayden’s intergalactic meds have completely healed my injuries. Too bad, they don’t work on my paranoia issues…

  Lately, my emotional ups and downs are like riding a tidal wave and my eating habits are all over the place. I’ve had days where I look down and discover I’ve inhaled an entire package of snickerdoodles. And others where I’ve been so nerve-wracked, I forgot to eat all day and my stomach is emptier than a Hostess Twinkie without the filling.

  Needing a drastic change in my crazy life, I bleached the purple out of my hair last night, and now it’s a dull flaxen with some pinkish strands. Part of me is hoping that the new look will keep creeps like Xavier from instantly recognizing me.

  Not wanting to look too normal, I’m still clad in my usual black from head-to-toe. Too many drastic changes at once might cause me to spontaneously combust. Although, there’s nothing special about my goth outfit—a black mini-dress with a white collar and wrist cuffs, which is very Wednesday Addams—when I arrive at school, kids rubberneck me as if I’m a two-headed zombie.

  Whenever I watch stupid teen movies, I roll my eyes at the clichéd fallout scenes. In these films, the hallways are filled with students gossiping about some embarrassing event that involved the main character’s reputation, which is supposedly forever scarred. This is exactly what today resembles, a classic scene from a writer and director John Hughes ‘80’s teen flick.

  My lighter hair color seems to be extracting attention the same way a black hole sucks in light. By the odd looks I’m getting, I should’ve gone with a tattoo or facial piercing. But I’m still a rebel in my platform ankle-boots and the wicked use of black eyeliner.

  A few people say hello and politely ask how I’m doing. Because I don’t want to talk about it, I just give them my standard answer, which is I’m fine, and keep walking.

  During my morning classes, I sit through the inquisitive stares, but I can’t tell if it’s because I changed my hair color or the gossip surrounding my near death experience. Each time I enter a room, the conversations don’t just stop, the chatter comes to a screeching halt. I duck my head and hurry to my seat, taking detailed notes in every class to avoid looking at anyone.

  In my last class before lunch, I fish out my Hello Kitty notebook from my backpack and scan my observations on “Operation Blackmailer.” Then I jot down:

  The Blackmailer must be a Meleah or somehow knows about them. Check.

  Warnings are cryptic, but might be helpful. Check.

  Blackmail must be from someone I know. Check.

  Sighing, I scribble in: Why am I the target? What does The Blackmailer hope to gain by these warnings and threats?

  I flip the pages of the notebook and smile at one of the entries that I wrote when I was first dating Hayden.

  Startling eye color and member of the wickedly cool Hair Club.

  Hayden’s a lefty and brings his lunch to school.

  Hayden is a defender against bullies.

  Hayden can bend metal objects with his mind.

  It reminds me why I like him so much, because of his sensitivity, romantic heroism, and being a defender of the innocent. All frightfully good qualities.

  When I enter the cafeteria, a few heads turn in my direction. Emma and Kaitlyn gape at me with big eyes, like I’m an alien from another planet. I warily approach Viola sitting with our other two friends, Tanisha and Raymond. No one notices me standing there at first.

  “How’s Sloane doing?” Tanisha is speaking with her back to me. “She seems so sad all the time.”

  “The love of her life is stringing her along. How do you think?” Viola’s digging into her backpack for a bottle of water. “Sure, she’s putting on a good face, but it’s only been a few weeks.”

  I pull back an empty chair.

  “That seat’s taken,” Raymond says from behind a comic book. Today he’s looking extra punk rock in a faded leather jacket with skinny jeans, and the grunge staple of tying a plaid shirt around the waist, along with scuffed lace-up boots. “Sloane’s sitting there.”

  “Ray, I am Sloane,” I say, and everyone shifts in their seat to look at me.

  Viola inhales sharply and slams a hand over her mouth. Raymond stares unblinking at my head and Tanisha gasps with big eyes.

  “What the hell did you do to your hair?” Viola puckers her dark-berry stained lips as if she’s tasted something sour. “You look so…so normal!”

  I sit down. “I needed a change. I was getting bored with the lavender. Maybe I’ll try plum next month.” Opening my brown paper bag, I remove a huge slice of cold pepperoni pizza, a can of diet orange soda, and a bag of fruit snacks.

  “I like it,” Raymond says. “Although it makes you look kinda ordinary.”

  “Thanks, I think,” I say.

  “Just promise me you won’t turn into one of those boring Barbie clones, like Emma or Kaitlyn,” Viola says. “Those non-conformists are all the same.”

  “Never.” I take a bite of my pizza. “We can’t all have perfectly straight black hair like you, Vi.”

  “True. My dad calls me Vampira like it’s a bad thing,” Viola says, grabbing a handful of my fruit snacks.

  Tanisha clears her throat. “Anyway, as I was saying before everyone freaked out over Sloane’s new ’do, the guy’s name is Saxton Ridge and he’s a military brat. This school was majorly lacking in hot male real estate, so he’s a nice addition.”

  Viola steals a tater-tot off Tanisha’s plate. I smile when Tanisha puts a protective arm around her lunch as if we’re dining in a prison and not the school cafeteria. Not that I blame her with the way Viola, the lunch stealing vulture, is scanning her food.

  Viola snorts. “Did you stalk him online?”

  Tanisha sips her flavored bottled water. “No. I overheard him talking to Emma and Kaitlyn. They were interrogating him between second and third period like the
damn Gestapo.”

  “Tanisha are you getting Alzheimer’s?” Viola frowns. “I dated that guy for, like a minute, weeks ago. You already met Saxton and we hung out once at Club Nocturne.”

  Tanisha flips her dreadlocks over one slim shoulder, and I can’t help thinking it’s a great way to rock a low-maintenance style. “I can’t keep up with all your boy-toys, Vi. You switch them out more often than Raymond changes his tighty-whities.”

  Raymond lowers his comic. “Hey now! I put on a clean pair at least once a week.”

  “Most people change their underwear daily.” Tanisha wrinkles her nose. “Boys can be sooo nasty.”

  Ray shrugs behind his comic. “Fine. I’ll start going commando.”

  Viola kicks me in the shin under the table, and I rub my ankle. “Ouch. What was that for?”

  When I glance up, I find Saxton standing beside our table, with an uneasy smile and holding a tray of food. “Hey, guys.”

  “Oh, hi, Saxton,” I say apprehensively.

  Tanisha smiles. “Want to join us?”

  Nodding, he takes the empty seat beside mine. “Why does everyone keep staring at me? Is it because I’m the new guy?”

  “Don’t feel special. Everyone’s been staring at me all day, too.” I shrug. “Mostly because of my hair.”

  “And it looks very nice el naturale.” Saxton turns to the others as he opens the top on a small carton of chocolate milk. “Nice to see you again—”

  “Same,” Tanisha says. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m Tanisha and this is my boyfriend Raymond.”

  “Yeah, I remember you guys.” Saxton faces Raymond. “You’re in my English class, right?”

  “Yup.” Ray jerks his chin in the male version of what’s up, and continues reading his comic.

  “Why did you transfer to Haven High?” Viola’s voice is tight.

  “My mom got remarried and I decided to live with my dad.” He lifts an apple from his tray and takes a bite. After he swallows, he adds, “I was getting tired of living in the city, so I thought I’d try life on the island.”