Hollow Sight Read online

  Sera simply explained, “You are very special, Breckin. There are not a lot of people who can see people like me. I died long ago when the world was a much different place. Not all the people you see or hear every day are real to other people like you. However, before you were born, you and I made a pact to be together always, allowing you the ability to see me. As you get older though, that may go away.”

  I remember looking at her with confused eyes because I didn’t quite grasp this at age five. All I could ask then was, “But you’ll always stay with me? You’ll never go away?” I didn’t want her to. The thought of it made me sad. She was so much a part of my life already that to think of her not in it made me almost panicky.

  “No, I’ll never go away. Although as time progresses you may desire me away, thus allowing your gift to fade. Then I will not appear to you anymore. I’ll be in your life imperceptibly, helping you as you grow.”

  “I won’t ever want that.” I had promised.

  She always knows when to appear. Whenever I’m upset or scared, when I’m lonely or just plain bored, Sera will appear out of thin air to be with me. I find her very interesting. I’ve always had a sinking suspicion in the back of my head though, that our relationship is meant for something bigger, something I could never quite grasp or place a finger on…

  “Okay, I’ll be going. Have a nice time at swim practice,” she says brightly as her body begins to vanish from the outside of her frame to the center. She shoots me a big smile before disappearing completely and I wish that I could stick my tongue out at her.

  I walk to the locker room to change. Practice had begun a month prior to school starting so this is a routine I am already accustomed to. Morgan is there, going on talkatively about her day. I listen – sort of. I smile and nod when appropriate, but I’m really listening to another conversation. I wasn’t the only one who noticed Liam today. How could I be? While I gather my cap and goggles, I listen intently to my teammates’ chatter as it echoes throughout the locker room.

  “He’s so damned good looking, it’s sinful. Not at all like the other boys in school. Not that the other boys aren’t good looking, I mean, Liam is just attractive in a different way.” I hear someone say.

  “Yes, he is so gorgeous!” Someone else chimes in.

  Gorgeous seems to be the one explicate everyone has used to describe him today. I've heard that word thrown around a lot. He is more than that though. No word comes to mind to describe him well enough for me.

  “Maybe it’s because he’s the new kid? That’s why he is so interesting?” Another thinks aloud.

  “Interesting, hell! And that accent! If the looks aren’t enough!”

  They’re saying all of the things I’m thinking. The thoughts I’d had running through my brain in eighth period, when I wasn’t paying attention at all to the short lecture, and before that with my locker incident. But why the pang of jealousy I feel when the other girls gush over him? I have no claim on him. Nor will I.

  Swim practice goes quickly. I enjoy swimming. My mother has always said that I should’ve been a fish or a mermaid if such creatures existed. Coach Dawson is a good mentor and she’s confident in our team this year. We look promising to bring home the championship although our first swim meet isn’t for another couple of weeks. Our team only consists of ten girls; the result of a small school, but we all do well in our events. After practice I pull my still dripping hair into a messy bun and quickly dress back into my clothes. Normally I would shower the chlorine off my skin and hair, but Axel will be impatiently waiting for me no doubt. Patience is definitely not a trait he possesses.

  While walking to the parking lot I’m not paying any attention to where I’m going – my brain is thinking about Liam again. This could get old. Well, maybe not. But I run smack into the oncoming crowd as a result of my idled thoughts and suddenly all of these overgrown boys are half-running around me while knocking me from side to side and I bounce off of them like a ping pong ball. My bag falls from my shoulder and I instantly drop to the ground to pick it up. I stay there until the mob passes and stand when I’m sure it’s clear.

  Thud.

  I look down and sure enough, the contents of my bag are scattered on the pavement at my feet. Apparently I have picked up my bag upside-down. I stand there for a moment, swearing internally, and then bend over with a groan to pick up the spilt items.

  “Let me help you,” a soft but deep exquisitely accented voice murmurs from behind me.

  Uh-oh. I don’t look up. I just continue to pick up my mess, trying to be quick, but the quicker I try to be the clumsier I become.

  Thinking Liam was more than beautiful before, I’m not prepared for this. When I do manage to look up to him, I see that he’s glistening in sweat. Little drops are beaded on his smooth forehead as one escapes and trickles down the side of his cheek. His hair is matted and wet, and it hangs slightly into his aquatic eyes as he bends over to help me pick up my bag. He dons simple black jersey shorts now that hang to his knees and his shirt is flung carelessly over his left shoulder. Words escape me – again – and my breath leaves me, again. When we both stand, I can’t meet his gaze because I’m moronically staring at his bare chest. It, too, has droplets of sweat trickling slowly, divinely, down toward his waist. His abdominal muscles are strikingly sculpted, the V-line of muscles slanting downward towards his hips. My eyes follow the chiseled lines until they disappear with the waistband of his shorts. He could be a model.

  “Are you on the swim team?” he asks, bending his face down to meet my eyes. How embarrassing.

  “Um, what? I mean, yes… I am.” I stagger as I look up into his mesmerizing stare. I hadn’t realized just how long his eye lashes were.

  “I figured as much.” Liam says with a smile.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I mutter, still not able to focus on his what he’s saying.

  “Well, your hair is wet and I didn’t see you out here,” he begins while gesturing with his chin toward the outfields. “So I just guessed that since you were still here so late after classes – that you must have some sort of after school extracurricular,” he finishes, shrugging his shoulders indifferently.

  Did I just hear that he was looking for me? No, that is an idiotically smug thought.

  “Oh. Right.” I mumble.

  Gazing up at him, I have to squint into the sun. He notices and shifts his weight so that he’s shading me. We look at each other for a few seconds and then I hear the blare of a car horn. It causes me to jump at the sound and I drop my bag again. Luckily nothing tumbles out a second time.

  “I gotta go,” I say suddenly, turning toward the Bronco feeling slightly irritated toward Axel's impatience.

  “Is he giving you a ride?” Liam asks, looking over me toward my rusty Bronco and then toward Axel.

  “No, I’m giving him a ride into town.” I reply, jabbing my head in the direction Axel is now yelling from. “He’s my little brother,” I say by way of explanation. Why am I explaining this to him?

  “C’mon, Breckin! I’m really hungry!” he complains.

  Liam’s eyes narrow. To what I’m not sure.

  “Yeah, he’s kinda impatient.” I say with a nervous laugh.

  “That’s quite the vehicle,” Liam chuckles as he takes in my rusted out four-by-four.

  “Yeah. I like her, though. She has character.”

  “It’s quite high off the ground. How do you manage to get in the thing?”

  Another blare from the horn. The thing. That thing is a she, thank you very much.

  “Um, I manage.” I turn and shoot Axel a look while holding up a finger to silence him.

  “It suits you,” Liam says with a smile, eyes sparkling.

  “Uh, thanks.” I mutter. I’m not sure what he meant by that.

  “I’ll see you around,” Liam says as he abruptly turns away.

  I stare after him for a moment, biting my lip in giddy concentration. I finally walk to my vehicle, not able to help the feeling of
delight to Liam’s words. I’ll see you around. Those four words hold such promise, such possibility. I hadn’t noticed, but when I get into the driver’s seat, I am gleefully smiling.

  “What’s with you?” Axel asks bluntly. He has taken the top off my soft-top Bronco so that we can enjoy the late summer air.

  “Huh? What do you mean?” I ask stunned, acting as if I don’t know what he’s talking about.

  “Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

  “Am I? Nothing in particular I guess.”

  Crap. I’ll have to get my feelings under better control. But I can’t help it. Whenever I think of Liam, I smile. Sigh.

  He drops it. “Swing by my house, I gotta tell my mom what we’re up to.” Axel mutters while fiddling with the radio.

  “You could say please. Where are your manners?” I mock.

  He gives me a dirty look. “Pleeeease, will you drive to my house so that I may tell my mother of our plans?”

  “That’s better. Sure.” I laugh.

  After only a few blocks I arrive to his house. I pull into the other Nicolai’s drive and Axel jumps out before I can park the truck. While still holding the door open, he leers at me with a face that makes me think I’m missing something.

  “Aren’t you going to come say hi?” he asks.

  “Oh. Um, sure, I probably should,” I reply with a nod. I unbuckle my seatbelt, apply the emergency brake, and shift my gal into neutral. When she idles, she sounds like a big cat purring – although she chokes on a hairball once and a while as she spits black smoke from her exhaust.

  “You know that she would have some sort of remark if you just sat out here. Like you were ignoring her on purpose or something,” Axel whispers as we walk up the steps to the house.

  “I know. She takes everything so personal.” I murmur.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Was she like that when she was married to Dad?”

  Axel snorts. “Like I remember. That’s probably why she’s this way now. Dickhead really did a number on her.”

  I smile apologetically and put my hand on his shoulder. He remembers a lot more than I do of Paul. Axel’s mom didn’t kick him out until he was five, so he can recall what it was like to have him around more than I can. And he has a much harder time dealing with the fact that our father is never around now.

  We walk through the door of the small house and the smell of fried fish engulfs the air. I wrinkle my nose and Axel looks worried.

  “Shoot. I guess that I should’ve called before practice. Smells like Ma’s already cooking dinner.”

  We continue through the rectangular living room, past the dining area that has been cluttered with his mother’s latest hobby of scrapbooking, and toward the kitchen. Axel stops in the doorway without warning and I run right smack into the back of his big frame.

  “Oooph!” I gust, bouncing off his back.

  “Um, Ma. Breckin is here,” he says in warning. “And she was going to drive me into town so that I could go to the sporting goods store. I need a new mouth piece ‘cause mine isn’t the right kind.”

  Lauren Nicolai turns around from the stovetop with an aggravated expression to reply, “Axel, I really wish you would have called me. I’ve already started cooking dinner and it’ll probably be ready when you’re gone –”

  “Oh, that’s okay.” He interrupts her then, taking his chance. “Breckin can stop somewhere and we’ll grab a quick bite.”

  His mother looks at me with her small ice-blue eyes – the same color as her son’s – while raising her eyebrows. I half-smile, feeling the guilt that Axel is incapable of possessing to the fact that she has probably just wasted food. She works hard, splitting her time between two jobs at different cleaning companies and home. I always chastise Axel for being so hard on her.

  Lauren - what she insists I address her as - can be a hard woman to read. The only emotion she tends to express well is anger or annoyance. At least that’s the way I see it. I’ve only heard her laugh a handful of times, and she is a straight-to-the-point kind of woman. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing if you’re on her good side. She is a bit taller than me and slightly round, although I know in her younger years she was quite thin. Too thin if you ask me. I think she looks much healthier this way. She usually dresses in jeans and old T-shirts. Her hair is long and jet-black with salt and pepper strands dispersed throughout, and she wears it up in a sloppy twist held by a large barrette on top of her head.

  “Okay, but be home in time to do your homework,” she orders like a drill sergeant.

  “I don’t have any.” Axel retorts.

  “Well, whatever. Just be home by eight.”

  “I’ll have him home by seven.” I announce, wondering if she’s even realized that she has yet to speak to me.

  “That’s fine, Breckin,” she replies, softening a bit. “How was your guys’ first day of school?”

  “Boring,” Axel answers.

  Lauren rolls her eyes.

  “Mine was pretty uneventful. None of my teachers felt it necessary to hand out homework.” I say, crossing my arms across my chest.

  “That’s nice,” she answers as she turns toward her fry pan.

  “I guess we’d better be going then. I don’t want to hit the dinner rush at the pizza place.” Axel says, shoving off from the doorway. Lauren gives Axel a look, realizing that he’s already planned his evening.

  “Maybe Breckin would like something besides pizza, Axel. Did you ever think to ask?”

  “No.” He doesn’t even try to hint at subtlety.

  “Axel, that’s just plain rude.” Lauren snaps disapprovingly.

  I grab Axel’s hand and tug him toward the door. I can see where her mood is headed and I don’t want to be caught in the crossfire. He catches on and we both wave to his mother as we hurry out the door.

  When we get back into the Bronco, I catch a glimpse of a figure in my rearview mirror.

  “OH!” I gasp breathlessly.

  Sera is sitting in the backseat marveling at the blue sky above like she’s been there the entire time. Hell, she probably has.

  “What? Did I startle you?” she snickers. Axel’s climbing into the passenger seat now. I shoot her a warning glance through the rearview mirror. She sticks her tongue out at me just like I’d wanted to do to her earlier and vanishes.

  The little town of Quinton doesn’t have much to offer in the way of convenience stores or much else for that matter. If you want to purchase anything other than gas or a carton of milk from one of the two gas stations, you have to make the short drive to the neighboring town of Carrington. Like anything else in the area, it only takes about ten minutes to get there. It’s a growing little city and it’s just acquired a new super-store that promises to have everything a specialty or grocery store has, but at a lower cost.

  “Did you ever think to stop at the new super-center? They might have what you need cheaper than the sports store.” I explain. I know Axel doesn’t have much money from his summer job at the car wash.

  “Oh, yeah. I forget that it’s there. Sure, we can try.”

  I pull into the newly paved parking lot finding a spot close to the entrance. We climb – literally – out of my mammoth vehicle, not bothering to lock the doors; I don’t’ feel my rust bucket is something anyone else would desire, and her top is off exposing all her glory. I never dare to pull out into traffic unless I’m sure it’s clear because the poor old gal has no giddy-up in her gallop. She only has an FM radio with crackly speakers for music, worn out cloth covering the beat up seats, and the back bumper had been attached by a mound of duct tape up until recently. Ben’s father had some Bondo in the garage and all but super glued it back to the side of my fender. I was amazed that it held.

  Axel finds his mouth gear at a substantially lower price than the original he had purchased before – the store was right in their advertising. The super-center is quite large and really does seem to have almost everything specialty stores offer. There is
even a grocery side with little brightly colored pieces of paper marking price reductions. We check out through an express lane and start for the exit. As the automatic doors open, I marvel at the color of the sky and suck in a deep breath enjoying the warm air. The sun is lowering, making the horizon a beautiful cast of oranges, reds, pinks, and purples. I think the colors blend together like a beautiful painting – one I’d surely never be able to reincarnate accurately. It is amazing to me how smoothly the different colors are able to merge seamlessly throughout the sky. Lavender fading to a darker violet, next mixing with bright oranges that move into brilliant pinks and then reds. There are a few white puffy clouds mixed into the canvas. The light of the sun is bouncing off their round sides just perfectly, causing them to glow with a luminescent golden yellow from behind.

  There is a hint of fall (my favorite season) in the air and I suck in the subtle scents. It’s almost as if I can smell the leaves changing color. The air is delicately hinting that soon it will be changing from clingy, humid heat to dry, crisp, cooler air. After climbing back into my Bronco, the trance I was getting lost in is brought to an abrupt stop as Axel asks a question that catches me off guard.

  “Who was that kid you were talking to in the parking lot?” he asks as I turn the key in the ignition.

  “What? Who?” I ask trying to seem indifferent. I focus on pumping the clutch.

  “That guy you were talking to after practice. I didn’t recognize him.” Axel says as he’s biting his nail. He doesn’t do it out of nervousness or anxiety; it’s just a bad habit of his.