Equinox

Chapter 1

I have never liked cold weather.

My friend Lindsey is the type of girl who can stand outside on a thirty degree night, wearing nothing but shorts and a t-shirt, and talk without her teeth chattering. She says it's because her ancestors are from Greenland, the land of ice and snow, but I think she's just insane.

Something about ice has always bothered me. When I think of glaciers or arctic regions where there's no color at all, just an infinite white abyss, my heart does this funny skip in my chest. There's no life in places like that. Nothing can grow. It's like that part of the earth's dead, and it doesn't even know it.

In Paradise, California, bad weather is almost unheard of. Snow and sleet are as exotic to us as brightly-plumed tropical birds, but much less fascinating. People here grumble when it drizzles, complaining that it gets water spots on the windshields of their cars. On the odd chance that we actually did have a blizzard half the town would probably get a coronary from the sheer stress alone.

Today is one of those fluke days where the thermostat drops below forty. It only happens in December, and rarely in January, but today is the twentieth of March: the vernal equinox. The first day of spring. Outside my window the sky is heavy and gray, like old Brillo pads. It looks like it could snow.

I can't help but take that as a bad omen.

A car horn honks outside. It's Lindsey Rasmussen.

I zip up my jacket and head outside. It's even worse on this side of the glass, and I have trouble locking the door. I should have brought gloves. The moths got to my last pair, and they're peppered with the holes of tiny, chewing mouths. I tuck my house key into my purse and make a mental note to hit the Dollar Store on the way home. They have some great gloves in bright colors.

Lindsey laughs when she sees me. “April, what are you wearing?”

The way she said it makes it sound as if I'd just stepped out of the house in my bra and panties.

I immediately look down just to make sure my fly is zipped, and all tags are tucked in. I'm wearing blue jeans (Xed my Z, thank you very much) and a pale rose parka left halfway unzipped to reveal the striped sweater in candy colors beneath. I can't see what the problem is.

“What's wrong with what I'm wearing?” I ask defensively. “It matches, doesn't it?”

“You look like you're going on an expedition to Antarctica,” Lindsey cracks, but there's an edge to her voice. “Aren't you boiling in that getup?”

She isn't wearing a t-shirt, but that thin sweater can't possibly be warm.

I hop into the passenger's side. “It certainly feels like Antarctica out here. And no, I'm freezing.”

“It isn't even thirty-two degrees out, Ape. Water wouldn't freeze in this weather.”

“Don't call me Ape.”

“I will when you stop acting like one.” She pauses, sucking in her breath. “Oh jeez. I'm sorry. That was way out of line.”

I smile thinly. “Don't worry about it.”

It's raining by the time we get to the college. I think I see Lindsey shiver, but she tries to hide it. I calmly pull my hood up so it's shading my eyes from the rain. “Aren't you cold?” I ask innocently, smiling a bit when she shakes her head.

“Norwegian blood,” she says proudly. “My ancestors discovered Greenland.”

I roll my eyes. “I would have brought you an extra jacket if you'd asked me.”

Lindsey's face takes on an offended look. “I'm not cold. It's just a little breezy.”

Her teeth chatter audibly and I see her thin shoulders shake. I unzip my parka and toss it at her. She puts it on. She's shorter than me and it looks like she's a little girl playing in her mother's coat. “Thanks,” she says, adding, “Are you sure you'll be warm enough?”

I laugh. Beneath my sweater is a white, long-sleeved shirt.

But she doesn't need to know that.

Our first class is Oceanography, which is actually how I met Lindsey in the first place. I took the bus on my first day, which gets you to class about twenty minutes early, and she was sitting inside the darkened classroom reading a popular book about vampires that I'd never read myself.

I reached for the light switch and she said, “No!”

“Why not?” I asked, frowning at her.

“I'm sensitive to light,” she whispered, with a wry smile. My hand was inches from the light switch and I remember feeling a sense of horror. In elementary school, I had had a friend who was allergic to peanuts. Even the slightest scent of the nuts could send him into anaphylactic shock.

I swallowed hard, and suddenly she burst out laughing at the look on my face.

“I'm kidding!” she assured me. “Go ahead and turn it on.”

When I stopped secretly wishing to murder her we quickly became friends.

The teacher's actually there, for once. Mr. Tannenbaum — which means “Christmas tree” in German — is funny in that dry, sarcastic way that's common with male teachers under thirty. He said he used to be a German teacher, but got tired of kids shouting “O Christmas tree!” whenever they wanted to get his attention. He looks up when we come in and half-smiles.

“I have to go ask him a question,” Lindsey tells me in a rushed voice. “Save me a seat?”

I dump my purse on the chair next to me and sit down. My other seat mate, Humberto, smiles at me hesitantly. He always smells like cigarette smoke. I smile back. “Hey.”

“Do you have notes?”

I pause in the process of searching for my notebook. “What chapter?”

“Chapter six?”

“Yeah.” I rifle through my notebook. “All of them, or just — ”

The next words die in my throat as a god walks into the room.

He's the most handsome boy I've ever seen in real life. It's as if a celebrity popped out of a movie and decided to mingle with us lesser beings. His hair is a chestnut brown, but unlike any shade I've ever seen. When he turns his head it seems to flicker like fire, although it contains no reddish hues. His skin is as pale as marble. It isn't until he gets closer that I can make out his eyes: they're dark tunnels, as if someone stole two black holes from space and set them in his perfect face.

I shiver slightly, and nearly jump out of my skin when Humberto taps me on the shoulder. “You have the notes?” he asks, looking slightly anxious, like he's afraid he might be seated next to a psychopath.

I unfreeze, slowly regaining the ability to move my limbs.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Hang on.” I rip the pages out of my notebook and hand them to him. “Sorry.”

Lindsey slips into her seat, but not before giving Him an appreciative once-over. “Whoa,” she says softly, “Who's the sex god?”

“I don't know. I've never seen him before.” He glances at us and I blush, thinking he might have overhead us. It's a brief glance, merely curious, but it leaves me slightly shaken. It's as if he's ripped something vital from me. If I only I knew what it was.

“He can't hear us, you goof,” Lindsey says, giving me a playful swat on the shoulder.

The classroom is starting to fill up. Girls in our class — pretty, plain, popular, shy mice alike — are studying in him, like someone rolling a pearl against the back of their tongue to see if its real. He passes the test. Whispers and giggles erupt around me and I can't shake this overwhelming feeling of deja vu. It's almost like I'm in high school again.

I just know hair extensions and fake nails are going to be lost over this guy.

“New kid,” Mr. Tannenbaum says, “Make yourself known. Name?”

“Just Aden.”

“Just Aden,” Mr. Tannenbaum repeats. “Interesting. Is that short for Justin?”

Aden's smile becomes slightly frosty. “No, it isn't.”

Humberto whispers, “That is a weird name, no?”

“Yes,” I whisper back, “I've never heard it before.”

I kind of like it, though.

“It's Gaelic,” Lindsey hisses at me. “It means fire.”

“Aden. All right. Are you registered for this class?”

There is a silence. We are all looking at Aden, but the confident smile never leaves his perfect lips. He looks way too confident for somebody new to the school. “I just did,” he says calmly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black pants. The coldness has melted away from his expression.

I still feel uneasy.

The teacher's eyes barely flick to his computer screen. “Good. Sit wherever you want.”

Several girls raise their hands to volunteer. I don't even have to turn around to know that one of them belongs to Mina Staford. There's a Mina in every town. She's the girl who's got everyone else beat in the looks, sports, and grades department. What she lacks in intelligence she makes up in cunning. And right now, she's rolling that pearl around in her mouth so hard it's a wonder her teeth don't crack.

His feet don't make a sound on the floor, but Mina's sigh of contentment tells me who he chose.

“Oh great,” Lindsey says. “Now we're going to have to hear about this for the rest of our natural lives.”

I'm a bit disappointed. Could he be any more predictable?

“That new guy,” Humberto says, “He is looking at you strangely.”

I do what any other girl in my position would do, despite Lindsey's hissed command not to. I turn around and catch a glimpse of those smoldering eyes regarding me intensely. Nobody's ever looked at me like that before... I back up in my seat and his face breaks out into a smile.

“Hello, April,” Mina says sweetly. “Did you want something?”

Aden's grin broadens, making his handsome face twice as attractive. I feel a need to look away. He's so good-looking, he's almost ugly. I can hardly maintain eye contact. “Your name is April?”

The look on Mina's face is priceless. “Uh, yeah. Last time I checked, anyway.”

“April comes from aperire,” he informs me. “The Latin word for 'to open'. It refers to the opening of flowers in the spring.” A strange look passes over his face, but it vanishes before I can properly identify it. “Today's the vernal equinox, you know.”

“My name means love,” Mina jumps in, eager to center herself in the conversation.

“I know,” I say, and I'm surprised to realize I'm answering both of them.

Mr. Tannenbaum chooses that moment to turn around and gives me a dirty look. “I would appreciate it if you focused your attention up here, April, and not at Just Aden.”

Face flaming, I turn around in my chair trying to ignore the giggles of my classmates.

“How sad,” Mina murmurs softly, but loud enough for me to hear her.

“Bitch,” Lindsey mutters under her breath, giving me a compassionate look.

I shrug it off — it takes one to make one — but before I can say it's no big deal, the ground starts to shake and Mr. Tannenbaum is ushering us under the chairs with an extremely nervous look around the classroom. It takes me a moment to realize why: The science labs are one of the most unsafe places to be in the middle of an earthquake — gas mains, chemicals, and biohazards.

Beneath my desk, I can't resist throwing a cautious glance behind me. Mina is calling someone on her cell phone, telling them how her life is in danger, but Aden has the strangest look on his face. At first, I think it might be panic... but he looks angry, focused, and not really there.

His eyes meet mine and lock before I can turn away and pretend I wasn't staring.

The fear on my face is obvious. I'm gripping the leg of the desk so hard my knuckles are white as bone. “Don't be afraid, April,” he says, in a throaty whisper nobody should be permitted to have.

“What do you know?” I ask, dropping my hand. The joints ache. “It's none of your business.”

“More than you think.” His face loses that angry cast, becoming peaceful and serene. It's like watching a waterfall shut off and looking into the still surface of a lake that hasn't been clear for hundreds of years. One minute, it's turbulent; the next, it's like looking in somebody else's window.

A second later, the shaking stops.