Hesitantly, I agreed to stay and play my song for Salem. He sat beside me on the wooden bench as I placed my hands on the keys. I shut my eyes as I played flawlessly–even to my own amazement, considering I had only come up with it this afternoon in school. I stopped abruptly when I felt his hands reaching across and touching mine. With a sudden gasp, my eyes flew open—his fingers were freezing! He smiled warmly at me, and I forgot all about the cold to his touch and returned to playing, his hands following the movement of my own. I relaxed a little as I continued to play, until at last the song was through; he didn't remove his hands.
“I still cannot get over how beautiful it is,” he said quietly as he peered into my eyes.
“Um…th-thank you,” I whispered, my cheeks growing warm. I glanced at my watch: 7:15. I sighed.
“What's wrong?” Salem asked, and then noticed where my eyes were looking. “Oh. Anxious for it to be midnight?”
“I guess so, yeah,” I said with uncertainty.
He nodded and slid off of the bench. “Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I replied honestly, before I had the chance to think better of it. There was a nagging in the back of my mind, a faint worry that he might have intentions of poisoning me.
“If you could have anything right now, what would it be?”
I laughed as I thought about it. “Umm…chocolate cheesecake drizzled with caramel.”
Salem shrugged. “I will see what I have.” Before he turned toward the kitchen, I could have sworn I saw a glint of violet in his eyes, but I ignored it—it was probably my imagination playing tricks on me. He walked into the kitchen, tugging me gently behind him. As he opened the black door of the fridge, my hand dropped from his grasp, and I stood frozen in shock. Sitting on a glass plate on the top shelf of the fridge was a slice of delectable cheesecake, just as I had described it. I shook my head in disbelief. I barely noticed that the rest of the fridge was empty.
“How?” My voice barely came out.
“Coincident?” he smiled. “Go ahead, eat it.”
“How do I know you didn't poison it?” I gasped, letting my prior thoughts free.
The look of hurt in his eyes made me regret it instantly. “You think I would poison you?” He frowned. “Would you like me to eat some of it to prove it is harmless?”
I nodded my head slowly, still unable to completely convince myself this strange boy had my best interest in mind, regardless of how kindly he had treated me so far—it could have all been a trap.
Salem shook his head in disappointment, but I watched him pull open a drawer. Wielding a silver fork, he gathered some of the cake and put it to his lips. I watched, my heart pounding, as he chewed the luscious chocolate, and he smiled up at me. “See? It is perfectly safe.”
“Okay.” I gave in and took a bite. It was even better than I had imagined. I tried to fight the urge to eat the entire slice, but it was impossible. It was quite possibly the greatest food I had ever tasted. “Are you a chef?”
He laughed; the sound was musical, beautiful...I wanted to hear it again. “No, but I will have to let the baker at Budwell's Bakery know you appreciate his work.”
“I still don't understand how you had a piece of cake just like the one I wanted just lying around in the fridge,” I said, wiping my mouth of chocolaty residue.
He shrugged. “I told you...purely coincidental.”
“Right...” I said as we walked into the wide, open living room. He laid out on the end of the sectional, and I sat on the opposite side. Part of me wouldn't have minded being closer to him, but I felt that distance was safest at this point. I contemplated what could possibly happen at midnight, how it would change anything, and how this boy could be involved in any way.
“How long have you lived here, Salem?” I asked out of the blue.
“A few years,” he replied, putting his hands behind his head. He looked comfortable, serene. Strands of black hair fell across his eyes, shrouding them from my view.
“Did you just start going to our school today or something?”
He didn't respond right away. “No,” he answered simply.
“Were you going to a different one before?”
“Yes.” Just as simply.
I glanced at my watch again: 8:13.
“Sooo…tell me about yourself,” I said as I watched the second hand on my watch tick slowly by.
“I don't have much to tell you right now,” he said in a strange voice, “that will have to wait until the right time.”
“Midnight, right?” I laughed, but I wasn't really amused.
“Perhaps.” He lifted his head to look at me. “I'm not sure what I can tell you, to be honest. It isn't entirely for me to decide.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“It will be easier to explain come midnight,” he assured me, but I was doubtful.
“Do you not own a TV?” I asked, growing bored.
“No. I have no use for one.”
“What?” I laughed. “Everyone watches TV, or at least movies!”
“Do they?” he asked thoughtfully as he rested his head once more.
I sat and watched him lying there perfectly still, as time crept by at a slow pace. I was tired–no, exhausted–and longed to return to that familiar place I reluctantly left this morning. This day had twisted in such a way that I never could have imagined. Mom was gone; I still couldn't grasp that fact. I had a house in my name. Jason wanted to throw a party, and I made the wretched mistake of agreeing! Then, I met this bizarre, yet fascinating boy...and ended up here. How did things turn out this way? I should have woken up in the morning, found mom at her usual spot at the table, left for school, had an ordinary day, gone home, watched TV and gone to bed.
“So,” I said, interrupting the silence again, “seeing as you don't spend your free time watching TV like a normal person, what do you do?”
“I do plenty of things. A lot of my time is spent reading, hiking, listening to music, pondering our existence...”
“You do have a pretty big collection of books, I see,” I commented, eying the shelves of books. “What are your favorites?”
I could see a faint smile spread across his lips as he contemplated my question. “Hmm...I suppose that might include some of Charles Dickens' literature, as well as Poe's masterpieces. The Picture of Dorian Gray and I must admit I have a soft spot for Romeo and Juliet.”
With scarce realization, I felt myself smile. He shared an interest in some of my favorite reads, but that shouldn't surprise me – considering he appeared to have tastes beyond his years, shown not only in his book collection but his choice of clothing and his love of the piano. “Those are some of my favorites, too,” I replied. “Are you in the drama club at school or something?”
He glanced toward me and arched a brow. “While I enjoy the occasional play, I cannot picture myself upon a stage. Why do you ask?”
“You dress a lot differently than most kids our age.”
“Our age,” he mused, laughing to himself at some unspoken joke. “I suppose I just have a finer taste in clothing than the typical teenager.”
“What about music? Do you play the piano?” I felt somewhat stupid asking, considering he did possess the very instrument.
“Occasionally, although I dare to say I am not nearly as exquisite a pianist as you are.”
My cheeks reddened. “I'm not that good, really.”
“I disagree. You have exceptional talent, Alexis.” He smiled again. “You should put that to use, perhaps make a future out of it.”
“Me? On stage?” I laughed at the thought. “There is no way I could get on stage in front of a crowd and play. I barely have the nerve to play at school in front of the music teacher. I just can't see myself doing that.” I frowned.
“You never know, someday that might change.”
“I wish I could look at it like that as easily as you can.” I sighed. “Do you mind if I check out your bookshelf?”
“Be my guest.”
I watched him closely as I rose from my seat. I walked across the plush rug and over to the bookshelf. To my relief, I found The Raven among the wide variety, but that didn’t surprise me at all. I plopped myself down in the armchair, switched on the light and began to read from where I had left off at school. Before I knew it, I unintentionally dozed off.