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flickering glow.

"Evan?" I said at the door. He didn't reply. I

nudged it open a bit more and gazed in. At first what I saw seemed so strange. I thought I was imagining it. He was at his computer, wearing his headphones-- and nothing else. For a moment I couldn't breathe. I stepped back, closed the door as quietly as I could, and fled up the corridor, up the stairs, and into my

room.

Whatever he was doing. I thought, I had no

right to spy on him and certainly no right to judge

him. I pushed the images out of my mind, quickly

replacing them with images of Barry and sounds of

his voice, his words, our wonderful lovemaking. I had wanted to be as intimate as possible with

him, but I didn't want him thinking that if I was that

intimate with him so quickly, I might be the same

with other boys. It has to be special; it's important that

it's special. It won't have the same meaning and

significance if it isn't, I thought.

But I was certain in my heart that we would be

complete lovers soon. I fell asleep dreaming of that

and the wonder of what just the thought of it did to the

way I saw and felt about everything around me. It was

as if all my senses had been heightened and my blood

made richer.

The tips of my fingers and toes tingled with

expectation. I moaned softly to myself, hugged my pillow, and pressed my cheek to the soft fluffiness, anxious to travel quickly through the dark doors of sleep into the wonder of my fantasies.

Just before dawn. I woke with a start. It felt like someone had nudged my shoulder with his or her forefinger. I sat up and listened. The house was dead quiet, but I thought about Mammy. What time did they return? I had not heard a sound. Was I in that deep of a sleep? Too curious to fall back to sleep. I rose, put on my robe, and quietly made my way out and to Mammy's room. The door was shut, but I opened it very quietly and peered in at her bed. There was enough light pouring through the window to set it outlined and to clearly see that she was not in it, that she had not

been in it.

My heart did a flip. Where was she? I closed the door and listened and then returned to my bedroom, but I was unable to fall asleep. I lay the listening for someone. I finally heard the maid moving about downstairs, so I rose, washed, and dressed as quickly as I could. When I descended, she was preparing the breakfast table.

"Good morning, Nancy Sue," I said, trying to hide my anxiety. "Morning. Miss." "Have you spoken with Mrs. Curtis already?" I asked.

She looked at me as if I had asked her if she had been to the moon. "No. Miss."

"I just wondered," I said. I went outside and walked to the garage where I saw the car. If the car was back, where was Mommy?

I went in and to Evan's room, knocking on his door.

"Evan? Are you up yet?"


Tags: V.C. Andrews Shooting Stars Horror