Syrie James - Forbidden

forbidden

SYRIE JAMES & RYAN M. JAMES

To our loving spouses and family,

for putting up with our

long hours at the computer,

all our brainstorming and

shop talk at family gatherings

(when we were supposed to be

paying attention to everyone),

and for being so supportive of this,

our first published collaboration

thank you.

And especially to Jeff,

who was the inspiration

and the voice in our heads

whenever we wanted

our characters to sayor do

something funny.

You are the Pirate King!

contents

I t had been a really crappy morning.

Things can only get better , Claire Brennan thought as she flipped on her turn signal, struggling to concentrate on the road despite the throbbing ache in her head.

Claire! Get over, youre going to miss the exit.

Claire sighed and cast a sidelong glance at her mother, Lynn, in the passenger seat. Im trying to, but that Beamer needs to move its ass.

The car in question finally zoomed forward. Claire pressed hard on the gas and yanked the wheel, lurching their aging white Toyota Camry into the exit lane of the 405 freeway. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her moms right foot stomp on the floor.

Stop pressing the imaginary brake, Mom! Ive done this at least three hundred times, okay? I know how to drive.

Sorry, honey. I was just reacting instinctively.

Claire merged onto Sunset Boulevard and joined the morning lineup of BMWs, Lexuses, Volvos, and flashy SUVs waiting at the light to turn left toward her high school. She could feel her moms gaze on her and suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Her mom had a way of looking at her sometimes that was really intense, as if she was inspecting her for some imperfection, or seeking something that wasnt there.

Claire often wondered if it was because she didnt look anything like her mother. Her mom was blond, blue-eyed, and beautifuland way younger than any of her classmates parents. Claire had long, dark brown (translation: boring) hair, and hazel eyes. She was of medium height and somewhat curvy, while her mother was paler, shorter, and slighter. Clearly, Claire thought, she must take after her fathera man she had never met. A man her mother never spoke about.

Why are you staring at me? Claire asked.

Im not staring. A brief silence ensued as her mother quickly glanced away. Honey, are you sure you feel all right?

So thats it , Claire mused. Mom: Youve been hovering over me ever since breakfast. Youre blowing things way out of proportion! To be honest, I dont feel so great, but sooner or later every girl goes through this, okay? Ill survive.

I just I want to make sure you have everything you need today

Mom, Ill be fine. You should be relieved. I am. It means Im not a freak of nature after all. Now I can be normal like everyone else.

Is that what you want, honey? her mom said with a loving look. To be just like everyone else?

Of course. Privately, Claire added, Thats not the only thing I want . She wanted a home. To stay in one place for more than a year or two. To put down some roots. For her mom to finally settle down and be happy, maybe even remarry. With that kind of stability, Claire might be lucky enough to find a boyfriend herself. But what were the odds of that happening, with a restless, paranoid free spirit for a mother?

Now that I have my license, Claire teased, the only other thing I need to be like everyone else is my own car.

Her mom immediately went on the defensive. Just because all the other kids at this school got a shiny new car for their sixteenth birthday, it doesnt mean we can afford one. Even with your partial scholarship, the cost of tuition alone

I know, Mom. I was just kidding.

Claire shot her mom a reassuring smile and then focused on navigating the steep, curving driveway that led down the hill toward Emerson Academy. It was Book Day, the Friday in early September before the school year officially began. Claire felt her spirits lift, as they always did when she arrived on campus. She knew how lucky she was to go here.

Emerson Academy was a prestigious private school, grades seven through twelve, with only one hundred students per grade. The campuslocated in Brentwood, an upscale neighborhood at the base of the Santa Monica Mountainswas beautiful, with Spanish-style redbrick-and-stucco buildings nestled into the side of a steep hill landscaped with shrubs, palms, and eucalyptus trees. The gymnasium, Middle School, and state-of-the-art aquatic center, football field, and baseball field sprawled across the valley floor below. A series of concrete ramps and railroad-tie staircases snaked their way up through the manicured hillside to the Upper Campus classrooms, creating nooks and terraces where students could hang out in the Southern California sunshine year-round.

Claire loved everything about the school: the beauty of the campus, the rotating weekly schedule that kept things from getting stale, and the challenging classes. At this school, you either respected your teachers and peers, or you were kicked out. Grades were everything. Claire was one of the top students in her class, but only because she worked really hard to keep her scholarship. After two years at a place as special as Emerson, she couldnt bear the thought of going anywhere else.

Claire passed the junior parking lot and pulled to the curb of the drop-off circle, shifting the car into park. All I have to do is get my picture taken and pick up my books. I should be done by noon.

Her mom checked her watch with a frown. I have a really busy day. I dont know what time Ill be able to come get you.

Okay, no problem. Claire grabbed her backpack from the backseat. Ill ask Erica or Brian to bring me home.

Her mom was about to protest when Claire cut her off. Dont worry, Mom. Ill make sure I wear my seat belt, that they dont go over the speed limit, play loud music, or text while driving, and that they arent under the influence of alcohol or narcotics.

Thank you. Call me when you get home, so Ill know youre safe. Her mom thumbed through her laptop bag, seemingly unaware of the good-humored sarcasm behind Claires words. Oh God. I forgot the disclosure form for the Redman account. Where the hell did I put it? Claires mom had become a Realtor shortly after they moved to Los Angeles and seemed to be pretty good at it.

As Claire wedged her way in between the bag and her mom for a good-bye hug, something strange happened. A shudder passed through Claires bodylike an electric shock in her veinsfollowed by a woozy feeling. Then a crystal clear image flashed into her mind: her mothers hand stowing a page in her bag . Without thinking, Claire blurted out, Its in the outside zipper pocket.

Her mom stared at her. What? What are you talking about?

Claire blinked twice. That form youre looking for. Check the pocket of your laptop bag.

Claires mom slipped her hand into the pocket and pulled out a printed form, looking confused. I must have put this in there yesterday at the office. How did you know that?

Just a lucky guess. You squirrel things away there all the time, Mom. Weird , Claire thought, as she exited the car and her mom slid into the drivers seat. Where did that thought come from? Was it dj vu? And why do I feel so dizzy? Claires knees were wobbling, and sweat beaded on her brow. She turned away quickly, readjusting her fitted white top and short floral skirt. Gotta go, Mom. See you tonight. Love you.