(REWRITING) The Skylar Experiment : Coveting

Chapter Six - Provocation

RILEY

THAT DAY DRIFTED by in confusion and denial.

When I came home to my dad, I looked at him like an intruder in the kitchen. Did he know something and never told me? Was he even aware that I might be different? The appalling thought of him not being my father occurred to me with such alarming dread that I refused to consider it. 

He loved me and taught me almost everything that made who I was. Why would he do that if I weren't his child?

"Earth to Riley?" Adam called. "You're doing it again."

The swing creaked under my weight over the iced sand. No children squirmed around the park the school afterhours. Another outcome of shorter days and unfinished grief. "I'm here."

Adam was not gullible. "No, you're not. That's the third time you space out today. Are you okay?"

I gazed over at Spartacus; the dog lounged over the dry grass, tongue sticking out. His tail wagged every now and then. We were outside on an overcast day with gray clouds looming in the sky yet no signs of a snowfall. I was curious to see the first snow. Back in San Diego, I've never experienced it. Though I wasn't thrilled about the recent temperatures, the impending winter floated its invigorating scent in the air. Like rain but cold.

Oakwood was in such a slumber it resembled a ghost town.

I turned my attention back to Adam. How could I keep this from him indefinitely? What if he found out about me—about the others? My heart raced at the idea of him being in danger.

"I'm fine. It must be the weather tiring me out."

"Yeah, winter kind of sucks," he agreed, toeing his shoe in the sand. "It means soccer season is over."

We'd been walking Spartacus together, and he tried to show me a bit of soccer. It was clear I had no talent for that game. I'd been distant, playing but not really giving an effort. After showing the basic techniques and encouraging me to let loose, he'd let me win and acted subtle about it. It hadn't escaped me, but I didn't argue.

"Hey, remember the new guy?" he inquired, lifting his head from the metal chain.

"What about him?"

"He's talking to Emma in French class. A lot. They seem friendly. I haven't seen her talk to someone so much except for us since... you know."

A crease marred his forehead, and his aqua eyes glided to the sky. I didn't know what to think about Emma speaking to Miles. The guy seemed harmless—in fact, he appeared to have some kind of charm—but I hoped this wouldn't backfire on Emma.

She stood in such a vulnerable position right now.

"I'm happy if she's comfortable with him," I said, "whether they're friends or more than that. If the latter would have been the case, she would have told us, though, right?"

"It's been only a few days, relax," he chuckled. "And if there's anything, I can always go have a word or two with the new kid. I can make him leave her alone."

I smiled. "And you're telling me to relax?"

He grinned, slipping on his most innocent expression. With the recent deaths, even he smiled less often, and when he did, the gesture looked less enthusiastic. "I am very calm."

I reached over my swing and threaded my fingers with his. He leaned over and kissed me with a light peck—his way of reassuring me. He had an intuition when I grew scatty and helped without even knowing about the ordeal. I squeezed his hand gratefully.