The 'Naturals: Awakening (Episodes 1-4 -- Season 1) (The 'Naturals: Awakening Season One Boxset) Read online

  AVERY

  by Melody Carlson

  Episode One

  HOW WAS IT POSSIBLE to live in the same place since birth and suddenly feel like a stranger in your own hometown? Avery McAllister stopped at the intersection of Fourth and Alder to allow a noisy semi truck to cut in front of her. Getting off her rebuilt Schwinn cruiser, she watched as the enormous yellow moving van turned into the new housing development. This ridiculous subdivision, Orchard Heights, had seemed to pop up out of nowhere these past few months. Not only had these oversized and probably overpriced houses devoured a perfectly lovely cherry orchard, they had stolen the old fashioned charm from this side of town as well. She shook her head in dismay. Seriously, didn’t people know that McMansions were a thing of the past? Who in their right mind would even want to live in such a pretentious plastic place?

  She scowled, watching as an expensive looking SUV pulled up behind the bulky moving van, which was now noisily waiting behind the locked security gates. A middle-aged man wearing khaki shorts and a hot pink madras plaid shirt leaped out of the silver Mercedes and rushed over to punch a code into the security panel, waving at the yellow van to proceed on through. Apparently that was the kind of person who wanted to live in a big stupid looking house that had ruined what used to be considered the good side of town.

  Avery had warned her mother that no good could come from the new developments that had started plaguing their town more than a year ago. In Mom’s defense, she’d started a series of articles in the Silverwood Chronicle where she worked as a staff writer. She’d written an intelligent feature which questioned the wisdom of this recent aggressive building boom and whether the city was being too lenient in granting permits willy-nilly. But even before the second story could run, Hollister Gray had shut her down. As editor of the local paper, Hollister claimed it was wrong for them to discourage development of any kind.

  “He doesn’t want to stir up unnecessary negativity in the current economic climate,” Mom had told Avery after the series was cancelled. Despite Avery’s protests, Mom had firmly backed the newspaper, finally reminding Avery that being a single mom working in a small town came with its own special challenges and rules—and they needed her salary to survive.

  Avery was just about to get back on her bike and continue for home when a tall, fair-haired guy emerged from the other side of the SUV. “Hey!” He extended his hand up as he hurried toward her, waving as if he knew her.

  Feeling a primal urge to flee from danger—but not knowing why—she defensively pulled her sturdy blue bike like a shield between her and the approaching stranger. In the broad daylight and with people out and about, there was no rational reason for her anxious reaction. Except that she knew something was wrong. Sometimes this happened to her—a strong feeling or intuition about someone or something—and it was almost always right. Mom called it her sixth sense and Grandma claimed it was ‘second sight’ from her Celtic roots on the McAllister side, but whatever it was, Avery knew better than to ignore it.

  “Do you live here?” the guy asked with a big white-toothed smile. He stood straight and tall, fully confident of himself. And why wouldn’t he be? This dude could pass for Matthew McConaughey’s younger brother.

  “No, I most certainly do not live here,” she snapped back at him. “I would rather live under a bridge than in one of those ridiculous Orchard Heights houses.” She pulled her bike a few inches closer, ready to throw her leg over the seat and tear out of there if necessary.

  He chuckled with twinkling blue eyes. “I know what you mean. Seriously, didn’t McMansions go out with the last millennium?”

  She blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah . . . that’s what I thought.”

  “I’m Dexter Freiberg.” He stuck out his hand like he expected her to take it and shake it. What planet was he from anyway? Still, she felt foolish just standing there staring at him. And so, taking a quick breath, she extended her hand. The moment their fingers touched, it was as if she’d touched a livewire. But before she could jerk back, he firmly grasped her hand and shook it heartily. Like he thought he was running for mayor or something. Maybe she should find him a baby to kiss too.

  “So we’re just moving in and I—”

  “Yeah, I noticed.” She pulled her hand away, shoving it into her jeans pocket. “Your moving van nearly ran me down back there.”

  “Oh, sorry about that.” He casually slipped his hands into the pockets of his olive, drab cargo shorts. Very cool and smooth. “The driver was probably talking to my mom on the phone. We thought he was lost or something.”

  “Talking and driving a massive truck like that?” She frowned. “Brilliant.”

  “I’m sure he was using a Bluetooth.”

  “Oh … well … yeah.” She felt a smidgeon of guilt for being so snippy and cold. And, really, what was wrong with her? This guy was congenial and polite—not to mention gorgeous—and all she could do was growl at him.

  “So are you in high school? Or already graduated?”

  She forced a smile. “I’m going to be a senior.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He nodded. “Cool.”

  “So, uh, welcome to Silverwood.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “You’re not going to tell me your name?”

  “Didn’t I?” She tried to remember.

  “No, you didn’t. But, hey, I like mysterious women.” He grinned. “Especially the pretty ones.”

  She felt her cheeks warming. “My name’s Avery McAllister.”

  “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Avery McAllister.”

  “And I was just on my way home from work.” She started to walk her bike down the sidewalk, but instead of taking the hint, he walked right along with her.

  “Work?” He looked confused. “Oh, you mean like a summer job?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Like a summer job.” Dexter’s family was obviously too wealthy for him to know that some teenagers worked during the summer. He would probably be shocked to learn that his home was sitting in the same orchard where she used to earn money picking cherries in the summer. He looked like he’d never gotten his hands dirty once.

  “Where do you work?” he asked. Still keeping stride with her, he seemed determined to keep the conversation going.

  “I teach art at Little Tyke’s,” she said casually. “It’s a daycare center on the other side of town.”

  “You teach art?” He looked impressed.

  “Well, if you call play-dough and finger painting with three to five year olds art, yeah.”

  He laughed. “I’ll bet that takes a lot of patience.”

  She slowed down her pace, tightening the leather strap that held her wicker basket in place. “I happen to like kids.”

  “So, since we’ve established you don’t live in Orchard Heights, do you live somewhere nearby?”

  “I live in the Waterford District,” she admitted. “That’s the historic part of town. Lots of old houses . . . diversity with character and personality.” Okay, now she was sounding like a realtor, but she didn’t care.

  “Sure, rub it in. For your information my mom wanted a house in the Waterford District,” he told her. “But Dad said we had to live in Orchard Heights.”

  She peered curiously at him. “Why is that?”

  “You know, Infinite GlobalTek was helping with relocation expenses and this development is owned by them. In the long run, it’s just cheaper and easier.”

  “Ri
ght . . .” She nodded. “So what does your dad do for IGT?”

  “Do?” He shrugged. “He’s an executive.”

  “And what does the corporation do?”

  He studied her closely. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “If I knew, would I ask?”

  He chuckled. “No, I doubt you would. The truth is I don’t really know either. All I know was it was an upward move for my dad. And as much as I hated having to transfer schools my senior year, I’m here now and I plan to make the most of it.”

  She felt slightly sorry for him. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to get relocated before graduation either.”

  “The good news, for me, is that SHS is smaller than my previous school and my old football coach talked to Coach Slater so I already have a place on the varsity team and I’ll probably be first string here.”

  She tried not to look disgusted. “It figures you’d play football. I should’ve known.”

  He tipped his head to one side. “So you’re one of those anti-sports snobs? Too good for jocks?”

  “I don’t oppose all sports. But I do think there are better uses for your head than plowing it into someone else in a football game.”

  “Since I play quarterback, I try not to do too much head-plowing.”

  She stopped walking, glancing over to where the Orchard Heights property ended. Even though there were no houses on this side, the tall wrought iron security fence continued on around. As if Silverwood was the kind of town where break-ins occurred regularly. “You probably need to get back to your family and your new house . . . you know, to unpack and stuff.” Or did they have people who would do that for them?

  “Did I do or say something to offend you?” He peered at her with what seemed sincere blue eyes.

  She bit her lip, trying to think of an answer. “No. You’ve actually been very nice.”

  He brightened. “Nice enough that you’d go get ice cream or coffee or something with me?”

  She got that tightening in her chest again, that same strong apprehension that something was wrong—dangerous even. Studying him closely, she tried to comprehend what it was about—why was she defensive?

  His smile faded. “Or do you just assume I’m a stupid jock and you’re too smart and sophisticated to give me the time of day?”

  Now she felt guilty. There was nothing she disliked more than snobbery. But wasn’t that just what she was doing? All because of some silly intuitive feelings that she didn’t even understand?

  “Sure, I’d be happy to meet you for coffee,” she agreed. “How about tomorrow morning? Maybe you’ll have a chance to get settled in by then.”

  “Great.” His smile returned. “Where at?”

  “How about the Mercury Coffee Company . . . around ten, okay?”

  “Sounds perfect.” He nodded.

  She pointed to the tall security fence. “You do realize you’re locked out now, don’t you? Or maybe you already know the pass code.”

  He shrugged with nonchalance. “No problem. I can get in.”

  “I’d better get home then.”

  He waved over his shoulder as he jogged away from her. She turned to watch as he ran, noticing the perfect form of his stride and the graceful way his body moved. He broke into a sprint and then, to her stunned surprise, turned straight toward the security fence. It looked like he would certainly collide with it, but instead of a crash and burn, Dexter leaped and easily scaled the tall fence. Just like that, he disappeared between two tall houses.

  Avery blinked and then looked again. Surely she had imagined that. And yet she knew she hadn’t. She had seen it with her own eyes. A chill ran through her as she remembered her initial frightened reaction to Dexter—she had known something was wrong . . . or maybe just different. Very, very different. She went over to the security fence now, trying to estimate how tall it was. It had to be at least six feet. Maybe seven. It seemed humanly impossible that he had leaped over it. No one could jump that high. And yet he had. Easily.

  Avery pulled out her cell phone as she continued walking her bike toward the Waterford District, but as usual, Raven’s phone was turned off. “You just can’t get enough of me,” Raven’s recorded message said. “So go ahead, yada-yada-blah-blah-blah. I’ll get back to you . . . someday.”

  “Call me,” Avery told her. “It’s urgent.” That should get Raven’s attention. Raven was unique in many ways, but one of the most unique things about Avery’s best friend was that Raven despised electronics. She complained regularly that “people are so over-connected that they are completely disconnected.” In some ways, Avery agreed. But she still wished Raven would’ve answered.

  Now Avery called Quinn. He was her second-best friend—although she knew he wished he was more. Naturally, he answered on the first ring. “Hey, Quinn,” she kept her tone casual. “What’s up?”

  “Not much. Where are you?”

  She told him she was on her way home. “So I met this guy who just moved to town and, chalk it up to temporary insanity, but I promised to meet him for coffee tomorrow and now I’m sorry I did.”

  “So don’t show.”

  “That seems mean. And the poor guy is new in town. I was actually hoping you and Raven could come too.”

  “Sure.” He agreed easily—like she knew he would.

  “Cool.” Now she told him what time and he told her about a recycled metal garden sculpture he was working on. “I’d love to see it,” she said and he promised to take a photo and bring it in the morning. “See ya then.” She dropped her phone in her basket and swung a leg over her bike and pedaled on toward the Waterford District. Just seeing the tree-lined street and the old houses made her feel instantly at home. How could anyone think that Orchard Heights was better than this?

  As she wheeled her bike up to the old Victorian house, she noticed the camping trailer was hitched to Grandma’s old Jeep Wagoneer and parked on the street. She knew that meant her grandma was getting ready to go somewhere. Her grandma belonged to a group of retired single women called Campy Girls and each of them had their own little old fashioned trailer with a custom paint job.

  “Hey, Grandma,” she called as she spied her coming out of the house with a small plastic crate in her arms. “Where you going this time?”

  “Fly-fishing at Clear Lake with the Campy Girls,” Grandma told her. “Want to come along?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  “All right, but you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “You mean like last time?” Avery grinned. “Mosquito bites, sunburn, and sleeping with an old lady who snores like a chainsaw?”

  Grandma just shook her head. “That’s the thanks I get for exposing you to the beauty of nature?”

  “I love nature. And I actually had fun,” Avery admitted. “But even so I’m going to take a rain-check.” She parked her bike and went into the house just in time to hear the landline phone ringing in the kitchen. To her surprise it was Raven.

  “Tell me what’s so important,” Raven asked in a slightly irritated tone, “that you couldn’t even answer your cell when I returned your call? I was worried that you’d been in a bike wreck or tied up and tortured by the pre-schoolers because they ran out of finger paint.”

  Avery gave her a polite laugh then told her about meeting Dexter, and all the details except the football part, which would ruin everything. Although she did go on to describe how he leaped over the security fence. “It was really bizarre, Raven. It’s like he just flew over it.”

  “He’s probably a high-jumper,” Raven said, unimpressed.

  “A high-jumper? That fence is at least six feet tall.”

  “And he had a running start? Doesn’t seem like that big a deal.”

  “So you don’t want to meet him then?”

  “I never said that.” Raven laughed. “Of course, I want to meet him. Does he really look like Matthew McConaughey?”

  Avery sighed. “Unfortunately … yes.”

  “Unfortunatel
y?”

  Avery didn’t even know how to describe what she was feeling exactly. She knew it would sound melodramatic, not to mention certifiably nuts. But when she thought about Dexter it was like falling into a deep dark pit that she might never be able to climb out of again. And, of course, that made no sense.

  MARSHALL

  by Robin Parrish

  Episode Two

  “SOMETIMES WHEN I DREAM, it feels like there’s someone else in there with me.”

  As soon as Marshall’s words reached the air, he wished he could pull them back in. But instead they hung there, as if suspended by wires. Two sets of eyes turned toward his and Marshall desperately wanted to slide down his seat and land under the table, so he could curl up into a ball.

  What on earth had possessed him to confess this to his friends? It was ridiculous. But there’d been a long moment of silence, and silence made him uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, waiting for the inevitable ridicule.

  Beside him in the booth, Linus was as predictable as ever. The short, black-haired, portly boy simply stared at him as if Marshall had just proclaimed himself Lord of the Guppies.

  Across the table, Piper gazed at him behind her orange-rimmed glasses, her expression as cool and deadpan as ever. “Sometimes I feel like my clothes are wearing me,” she said.

  After a brief pause, Linus giggled, and Marshall couldn’t help grinning, too. “I was being serious,” Marshall said, still smiling.

  “So was I,” said Piper, unchanged. “My shirt—her name is Lucy—thinks my hair is the perfect color to offset her dark poly-cotton blend.”

  Marshall smirked again, glancing at Piper’s light blue hair, which hung below her shoulders. There were a few narrow braids scattered here and there, but it was mostly wavy, like curly hair that had been straightened. She colored it herself, not because she was fond of baby blue, but because she insisted on being different. Her clothes were equally eclectic.

  She proudly wore on the outside what he and Linus tried harder to keep hidden. Namely, that they were a bunch of oddballs. The eggheads. Silverwood High’s certified geniuses. And the only three members of the school’s Board Game Club—a club so hopelessly nerdy that no teacher would volunteer to oversee it.