Sundial Read online

  Sundial

  http://sundialbook.com

  C.F. Fruzzetti

  M.I. Pearsall

  Contents

  Chapter One: Reflection

  Chapter Two: Turning Point

  Chapter Three: Launch

  Chapter Four: Decision

  Chapter Five: The Plunge

  Chapter Six: Advantage

  Chapter Seven: Cachet

  Chapter Eight: Fireworks

  Chapter Nine: Dr. West

  Chapter Ten: All That Glitters

  Chapter Eleven: Homework

  Chapter Twelve: Proof

  Chapter Thirteen: Still Standing

  Chapter Fourteen: Sunrise

  Chapter Fifteen: Not Alone

  Chapter Sixteen: The Anchor

  Chapter Seventeen: Undeterred

  Chapter Eighteen: The Hunt

  Chapter Nineteen: The Answers

  Chapter Twenty: 24 Hours

  Chapter Twenty One: The Heart of a Crane

  copyright

  Chapter One: Reflection

  Whispered murmurs of excitement buzzed down the line of girls on the metal bench. I felt their nervous energy as it vibrated through the air. Something was happening.

  It was early March. The fading Virginia sunlight cast the late afternoon in glowing pink and brown overtones like an old-fashioned photograph. The bare tree limbs were scrawled as erratic charcoal strokes against the gray sky and the far end of the field was already cast in shadow. I took a drink of my water and listened.

  “It’s him. It’s HIM,” hissed one of my teammates, unable to maintain her composure. I looked to see who had caught everyone’s attention.

  Oh, I should have known, I thought to myself. Reid Wallace. He was the one guy who could make my entire soccer team swoon. His statuesque frame already made him noticeable, but his finely carved face made it easy to see why there was such a stir when he transferred to Gramercy High School last year.

  All the girls who were quickly packing up a second ago slowed their pace in a desperate effort to stall for time. They wanted a reason to remain on the field so they could watch the approaching figure.

  He looked like a gladiator with his practice gear in his right hand and the stadium bleachers behind him. His body moved with fluid power and confidence, hardly jostling the shoulder pads sitting on top of a wet T-shirt that clung to his chest and abs. He fit right in the suburban D.C. neighborhoods of power and privilege that surrounded our high school.

  Another typical jock, I scoffed, tossing my water bottle into my bag and stooping to untie my cleats. Well, I amended as I untied a shoelace, an extremely good-looking one. He was not that easy to dismiss.

  Unexpectedly, the prickling sensation of my intuition going into overdrive shivered across my skin. It became more intense as Reid got closer, and I looked at him again. It wasn’t clear to me what about him was setting it off. I wasn’t used to unknowns and that made me wary.

  Someone in the middle of the bench whistled as he approached. He heard the catcall and a smirk flashed onto his face. The whole bench dissolved into giggles and laughter.

  The spring breeze carried the tang of mulch and a cutting chill. I slipped my navy anorak over my head and undid my ponytail. My brown hair fell in sun-streaked waves to the middle of my back. I brushed it out with my fingers and looped it into a quick twist at my neck. I was almost ready to head back to the locker room.

  “Whitney, use this,” Blair commanded as she rummaged through her duffel bag. She handed me some Bactine spray for the abrasion I had on my knee. As usual, Blair was looking out for me. I had forgotten all about the small cut.

  “Thanks, Mary Poppins,” I joked. Blair always had an extensive assortment of supplies for any situation. She liked to be prepared. I hated to think it was because being my best friend for nine years had included us starving for three weeks at survival camp and taking regular kung fu lessons, but it was hard not to assume my dad’s adversity creed “to be able to persevere, defend, evade, and escape” hadn’t had an impact on her. Being in my small inner circle was not easy.

  Blair knew my life was complicated and that my dad was in government intelligence. Although, even as my most trusted friend, she didn’t know I was enlisted in a CIA program called Clarion. That information was classified. I didn’t have to report to work until I turned twenty-one and I was hoping the program would be dissolved by that time. I realized America’s current nuclear war standoff made it unlikely but I didn’t dwell on the details.

  The Bactine spray was icy cold on my knee and had a strong medicinal smell. I let the liquid wash some of the dirt away before wiping it off with my towel.

  “Looks like Barbie and Ken are getting together,” I said quietly as I nudged Blair with my elbow. Blair took a drink of her Gatorade and flicked her Irish green eyes up at me. I nodded toward Reid Wallace and Liz Cooley: the handsome hunk talking to the mannequin with fake yellow hair and a fresh manicure. What an annoying and predictable choice.

  She looked yearbook photo ready and was beaming with pride that she had snagged Reid’s attention. I had heard he was smart but his current conversation choice made me chalk that up to rumor.

  I stepped out of my cleats. My toes wiggled in appreciation. I peeled my shin guards from my legs, feeling tired but content. It was freeing to lose myself in the absolute focus of the game and not be bombarded by the extrasensory signals that filtered through me. The feeling of complete concentration faded as I found myself distracted by Reid.

  His deep voice carried easily toward us. “Hey, Liz, did you all win your game?” I heard him pleasantly ask her. I watched them with my peripheral vision as I zipped my team duffel bag. I was used to reading people’s body language. It was obvious he wasn’t staying long; his feet remained turned away from her.

  She gave him an eager smile as she happily trilled the news we had won. Liz must have picked up on his polite but fleeting interest. She seized the moment to shake her hair to make sure he noticed her.

  “Looks like it was tough out there,” he said with an amiable grin and a sarcastic edge. I froze, riveted. This was suddenly getting much more interesting. He must have noticed she didn’t have a speck of dirt on her. She hadn’t played in the game.

  “Glad you all won,” he said as he curtly nodded a goodbye. He took two steps away from Liz but she was regrouping. She wasn’t going to let him leave without giving it her all. She had much bigger plans for the two of them than idle chitchat. Liz gave an indignant squeal of his name in a way that made me want to cover my ears. It didn’t delay him.

  Liz was prepared to use artillery. She launched a soccer ball at Reid and I almost burst out laughing. I was so entertained I forgot to divert my gaze, and Reid noticed me staring a second before he reflexively stopped the ball. Then, to Liz’s chagrin, he kicked the ball to me. I trapped it easily with my foot.

  Reid used that as his exit strategy from Liz. My respect for him was slowly increasing, although I couldn’t figure out why he was walking toward Blair and me. We didn’t know him.

  The closer he came, the more my skin tingled. The hair on my arm felt like iron filings being attracted by a magnet. This kind of response didn’t make sense. I knew he didn’t have extrasensory perception. I recognized that rare trait in someone else immediately.

  Others with extrasensory perception gave me a feeling I could only describe as relief. It was comforting when I didn’t have to disguise how I knew information. Reid did not give me a feeling of relief. He made me feel hyperalert. Why was he causing this sort of reaction?

  Reid embraced my shoulder like a fellow conspirator. “I wasn’t sure Liz would have known what to do with a soccer ball heading in her direction. You seemed like a more logica
l choice. The dirt on your legs was a dead giveaway,” he said in a low voice with a hint of a smile. I could smell peppermint in his mouth.

  The touch of his hand on my arm made my heart jump-start. I dulled my escalating pulse by contemplating him with my hazel eyes. What a flirt, I thought to myself.

  Reid smiled and patted my shoulder as if to tell me to keep up the good work. Then he walked away.

  Blair, quietly mischievous and always keeping a cool eye on the social scene, coughed on her sip of Gatorade as she choked out, “Your legs were a giveaway? Excuse me? And since when are you on a first name basis with Reid Wallace?” She twisted the orange lid back in place and stood up next to me.

  She was taller than me by almost four inches. Her shiny chestnut ringlets were restrained in a clip but one escaped curl she fixed with her fingers.

  “I’m not.” I shrugged dismissively. I tucked the ball under my arm and slung my soccer bag onto my shoulder to head back to the locker room. Blair and I were going out for pizza with our friends after the game and I was looking forward to it.

  I wasn’t aware Reid knew my name but it wasn’t a stretch to think he knew a lot of girls’ names, I downplayed in my mind. He went through girlfriends like the Certs breath mints he was always eating and most of his flings seemed to last only that long. In the year that he had been at Gramercy, Reid had been linked with plenty of the prettiest girls at school and I wasn’t going to be one of them. I had plenty of friends and sports to keep me busy. I didn’t need a guy to tangle up my life.

  Reid started cutting through our soccer field more often. I admit I would watch him with hooded eyes. He always seemed to have an entourage. I wondered if he was a natural leader or if people followed him for his wealth, his looks, or his athletic ability. Maybe it was the entire glittering package. He would be the perfect match for Liz, who, assuming his presence was for her, was on an all-time high and even snobbier than usual. Her clique of friends on the soccer team threw her knowing looks every time Reid appeared. They could be Barbie and Ken together forever, I thought, wanting to gag on the artificial sweetness of her fake laughter that warbled out of nowhere the minute Reid came into view.

  My literary magazine met on Wednesday and it made me late to practice. I was the last to leave the field since I made up the laps I had missed at the end. Two weeks after Reid started cutting through the soccer field, I caught sight of my reflection in the gleaming paint of a black BMW convertible that pulled up next to me—I was carrying a netted bag of soccer balls on my shoulder and I looked like a grimy Santa Claus.

  My eyes scanned the glossy leather interior of the car. It looked brand new. I faced the driver and saw it was Reid. I was unprepared when he offered me a ride back to school.

  “Are you sure you want to give me a ride?” I asked, giving him an out. I looked directly at him but he gave nothing away. “I’m pretty disgusting,” I said, glancing at my muddy socks and cleats. I knew if that were my car I would not let me in it. I braced myself for him to say I was right and that he would see me later.

  He flipped up his sunglasses and his eyes laughed at me. He turned down the Led Zeppelin that was blasting from the speakers. What was so funny? I was being serious.

  “You definitely don’t look disgusting to me,” he answered, and the smirk I was starting to get used to flashed across his face. “Just get in. I am sure the car will survive.” His voice had an easy cadence. It made his words seem casual and relaxed.

  Even though I had my reservations about Reid, I decided nothing significant could happen in the three-minute ride back to school. He put his sunglasses back on, implying he was ready to go.

  “OK, it’s your car to clean.” I shrugged affably. The top was down so I tossed the netted bag of balls into the back seat and got into the car.

  I was instantly tackled by an enticing and woodsy scent. The fresh smell of balsam fir needles and evergreen trees splintered down my spine. I was briefly paralyzed as it flooded my sense of smell. This was an invisible and an unexpected assault on one of my least guarded senses. It never occurred to me that the air surrounding Reid would have had such an impact.

  “Why are you the last one out today?” he asked. His question shook me out of my stupor. I took a gulp of air to clear my head. The inquisitive expression on his face seemed genuine even though I couldn’t figure out why he cared.

  “Whenever I go to my literary magazine meeting, I run the laps I miss at the end,” I said nonchalantly. I saw myself in the waiting gaze of his sunglasses. I smiled at the sight of my hair. I pulled loose my disarrayed ponytail and let it take flight. Reid grinned as I tried to reclaim my whirling locks. In that second, I felt the spark of a connection. I was glad I had already formed the next sentence in my head and only needed to verbalize it. “That’s my deal with Coach.”

  “Literary magazine? That’s right. I heard you were pretty smart,” he said, giving me his charming smirk. It seemed to give him an unfair advantage of attractiveness.

  “Yeah, I am,” I agreed with my usual confidence. He laughed. I shook off the flattery that he had been asking about me or that he had bothered to make it seem that he had. I dismissed his flirtation as simply for his own amusement or probably part of his usual routine.

  I skimmed over Reid to try to figure him out. His open and honest body posture surprised me. His pulse was steady. It seemed to confirm that he had been asking about me. That was strange. I was not his type.

  It was a lot easier to sit next to him when I could shield myself with the doubt of his intentions. I suddenly had an appreciation for the saying ignorance is bliss. Anxiety was overtaking my relaxed indifference with each passing second.

  All too quickly, he pulled the car into the back parking lot by the girls’ locker room. The awkwardness of exiting the car crashed down on me like an avalanche. I hoped he wasn’t planning to ask me out. I would have to say no. I wouldn’t go out with him just because he was brutally hot and Mr. Popular. My high-strung flight instinct took over.

  “Thanks,” I said, popping my seat belt before we came to a complete stop. I didn’t want him to think I was reluctant to leave so I sprang out of the car…probably a bit too fast. Darn it, I thought. I acted so much cooler when I thought he was flirting with me only to entertain himself.

  “That’s it?” he said. He pretended to be offended. He put his hands up like I was leaving him hanging. “No tip?” he quipped. His smile caught me like a hook. I stood there mesmerized for a second. Get ahold of yourself, Whitney! I commanded. You are acting like an idiot.

  “Here’s a five,” I wittily salvaged, holding out my hand for a high five and then pulling it back as he reached out to swat it. “Too slow!” I joked, grazing his hand. I laughed at his confused expression and one of my favorite pranks.

  The raw toughness of his hand blasted through me like a shock wave. I could feel the raised calluses on his palm from where he held his lacrosse stick. For a second, it felt like there was some kind of magnetic field connecting us; my wariness returned. I felt vulnerable. I didn’t like to not be in control. I blinked and recovered as I pulled my hand toward myself.

  I was adept at processing information from other people while keeping my face impassive. I had had years of practice. For the first time, I found it to be a bit of a challenge. I had actually met a guy who did not bore me. Yet.

  I grabbed the soccer balls from the backseat and headed for the school door. I could hear his car idling as I walked away. I didn’t look back.

  As I approached the doors, I imagined Liz having a temper tantrum at the sight of Reid dropping me off while Blair would have probably done a cartwheel in front of the marching band she would have hired. I smiled at the thought of Blair and how she was going to love to analyze this tonight when I spent the night at her house. This would be what Blair would call “juicy.”

  The three-minute car ride was not as inconsequential as I had previously assumed. I didn’t like learning the hard way and I realized I coul
dn’t afford to make any more assumptions with Reid. Almost all of my senses had an overwhelming response to him. All except taste. I couldn’t imagine what would happen to me if I kissed him. I erased the thought. That was not going to happen. Definitely not. This was just a weird fluke. He wouldn’t pursue me further.

  The “fluke” idea didn’t seem so plausible when a few days later he reappeared as I walked down the long hall to the girls’ locker room on the way to practice. I had never run into him here before and I knew immediately this was intentional.

  “Hey, Whitney, wait up!” The call echoed down the hall and I instantly recognized Reid’s husky timbre. I slowed my pace but my pulse didn’t comply. I didn’t turn around.

  I could hear his footsteps as he unevenly loped down the deserted hall. His overstuffed duffel bag of lacrosse gear thumped against his thigh. I popped another pretzel in my mouth from the bag I held in my hand. I wanted to have a reason all the words in my head seemed to be clogged in my throat.

  The sharp menthol of his Certs crashed over me like a wave. When I was enveloped in the fresh scent of evergreen, I knew he was close. I looked behind me with skeptical curiosity. Our eyes met and I turned back around. The feeling he could see through me made me uncomfortable.

  “Perfect, I’m starving!” he said, trying to grab the pretzels from over my shoulder. I effortlessly spun away from under him. I had taken self-defense classes for years. It was an easy and reflexive move.

  I was petite, but only Reid seemed to remind me of it. He dwarfed me and his presence forced me into a new level of personal awareness, probably because he was always bumping into me. “Come on, just one pretzel? All I have is a roll of Certs!”

  “Whose fault is that?” I asked as I playfully defended the bag of pretzels. Reid moved around to block my path.

  He made the most of every opportunity to bridge the distance between us. It was remarkable he could so often create the excuse and the spark. I stopped short so I would not run into him. I could feel his body heat. The gulf between us seemed to want to close. I didn’t want to move but I forced myself. Otherwise, I would look up at him like a deer in headlights. I didn’t want to be his quarry.