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Lure

  by Tarynn Kerr

  Copyright © 2015 Tarynn Kerr

  Cover by Betibup33 Design

  Formatted by Heather Adkins

  First edition published 2015

  The author reserves all rights. No form of reproduction may be used, unless prior written permission has been obtained from the publisher, excepting the use of brief quotations within critical reviews or articles. Reproduction encompasses any and all methods, present or future. In addition, no part or parts of this book may be used, unless under the same conditions of prior approval.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or situations is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter 1

  DAVID

  “David Rivera.”

  The principal read my name and gave me the same bored smile he’d given most of the other students here as he handed me my diploma and shook my hand. See, I don’t — or I guess it’s didn’t — go to the type of school where the principal knows everyone. I grew up in L.A., so the public schools were just too big. I wasn’t the type to get into enough trouble to get sent to the principal, but I also wasn’t outstanding enough to be noticed by him either. So I didn’t mind that his smile wasn’t entirely sincere; it wasn’t his fault this was the first time he’d seen me. I was just happy that as soon as this seemingly endless ceremony was over, I was out of here for good. I’m not stupid or anything; school just isn’t for me. I mean, when am I going to use calculus anyway?

  I practically ran out of the sweltering gym when the ceremony was over. Unfortunately, it was just as irritatingly hot out on the asphalt, where everyone had decided to greet their loved ones and block cars at the same time. I had parked in the far back so I had a slight hope that the crowd hadn’t spilled all the way back there. As I started elbowing my way through the masses, an arm grabbed me around the neck from behind.

  “Dude, we’re out of here! Reunited and it feels so good!“ my best friend Sid sang at the top of his lungs. He was always bursting out in song — songs that rarely had any relation to what was happening.

  “What does that song have to do with this situation exactly?”

  “I don’t know, just seemed to capture how good I’m feeling. We are on our way, my friend. Just think, in a couple of months, we’ll be in college, and then before you know it I’ll be CEO of something awesome. And because you’re such a good friend, I’ll totally make you whatever is just below that.”

  “Your generosity is touching. But I already told you, I’m only taking a few classes at the city college.”

  “That is not what you decided.” He wagged his finger at me sternly. “I did not agree to that plan, so the decision is still on the table. Now let me lay out my argument.” He took a deep breath as if he was preparing for a big speech. Here we go, I thought. “You’ve got to come to USC with me because a) you know any school without me will be lame, b) I can’t guarantee you a position in my future company of awesome if you have a degree from a lame school, and c) seriously, college will suck without me.”

  I did a poor job of pretending to consider. “Compelling argument. But I’m going to the city college.” I watched him, amused, as he gave an overly exaggerated sigh. “Come on, man, you know I was never going to go there. I just want to run the bakery. I don’t need USC and the thousands of dollars of debt it comes with to do that.”

  His face got about as serious as it could get for his next statement. “You know if it’s about money, my family will help you out.” Sid’s family was loaded, and since they had more than enough to send him to any school he wanted, they were always offering to help my family out, especially since my dad died a few years ago. We always politely declined though. My mom, brother, and I didn’t have much, but our little bakery did well enough that we could live in a good neighborhood.

  “It’s not about money. I like the bakery. Plus, I’m pretty sure if I stopped making my famous sweet bread you would spontaneously combust.”

  Smile back in place, he said, “Alright, alright. I cannot deny myself or the people of this great city your delicious bread. But I still have two weeks to convince you to come to my party, and I am not giving up on this one.” He poked me in the chest for emphasis, and I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go to the party. His parents were letting him throw a crazy bash since it was his eighteenth birthday and graduation combined. It was bound to be a good time. I just didn’t want a repeat of what happened after his last big party. By the time it was over I had to go to the bakery to start on the bread for the morning. Let’s just say that baking while drunk is a bad idea. I ran my thumb over the faint scar on my opposite palm. Yeah, no need for a matching one.

  “Thank God I will be in Yosemite for half of that so I won’t have to listen to your convincing. Unless you come, of course. You’re still invited.” I gave my best come-on-you-know-you-wanna look.

  “Sleeping on the dirty, bug infested ground and hiking through cell-signal-less woods for fun? Pass.”

  “Wimp.” He punched me in the arm, but I laughed anyway. He really was a prissy girl sometimes, never wanting to get a speck of dirt on himself. He didn’t know what he was missing. By then we had made it past most of the people and I could see my family waiting for me by my car. I waved to Sid as he dove back into the crowd and made my way over to my mom, who was already snapping pictures.

  “Do you really need pictures of me in the parking lot?”

  “Yes, I do. I want to capture your final exit,” she said, still snapping away. I took my cap and shoved it at the lens.

  “You should have seen her during the ceremony. Before your name was even called, she was leaning over the row in front of us, trying to zoom in as much as possible. So embarrassing,” my brother, Eric, said. He sidestepped away like he didn’t want to be associated with our over-enthusiastic mother. It could have worked. Most people don’t realize we’re brothers. He looks just like Dad, with his curly black hair and tanned skin. He also got Dad’s height. He’s two years younger than me, but two feet taller, the lucky punk. Okay, so not a whole two feet, but by the time his growth spurt is done he’ll probably be a little over six feet, while I’ve been steady at a measly five-foot-six. I mostly take after Mom, not only in height, but also her light skin and straight, brown hair. The only feature I didn’t get from her was her emerald green eyes.

  “At least she wasn’t yelling,” I told Eric.

  “Oh, she was. She yelled your name louder than the entire family of ten applauding the girl before you.”

  “Wow, how did I not hear that?” We laughed until Mom started to yell again, this time for me to “turn this way” and “hold up your diploma” and “stop shoving your cap at me.” I posed for a few good pictures to appease her before finally convincing her we should go, since the exit would be backed up any second.

  I drove us straight to the bakery so we could open for the afternoon and finish up some of the custom orders before our trip. It was a tiny place, but we had a prime location right across from a large business park, so we would get a lot of the businessmen and warehouse workers as they were coming and going.

  Eric usually made the simple stuff, like the cookies, while Mom and
I had our specialties. My dad had passed on his family’s recipes for conchas and empanadas to me, and they had attracted many regulars. Mom had a talent for creating the most beautiful frosting designs for cakes and cupcakes. When we arrived, she immediately set to work on her latest creation, which was a cake depicting a fairy sitting by an old tree stump with flowers covering every inch of ground. She could make everything look so real. This one in particular was the most intricate I had ever seen. Each flower, no two exactly alike, had perfectly shaped petals and you could see the roots and knots of the tree stump. The fairy had long, raven colored hair with a dress that camouflaged her against the dark bark of the stump. Most striking were her bright yellow eyes that matched her yellow wings.

  I had no idea how she would come up with these scenes. I’d asked her before if she had gone to art school, but she’d always clam up when her past was brought up. I didn’t know much about her life before she met my dad, except that she moved here from a small town in England when she was twenty. Eric went to the front to help a customer, leaving us alone. I looked over at her, wondering if I could broach the subject or if I should just go with a safe compliment, but she started talking first.

  “I saw you talking with Sid earlier. How is he?”

  “Good, happy to be out of there.”

  “Is he still going to USC?”

  “Yep. He’s really excited.”

  She nodded and went on with her cake, but I knew there’d be more. Three, two, one… “I know it’s probably too late for the fall semester, but have you thought about joining him in the spring? I could make it work.”

  “Mom, I’m not interested.” When I saw that she was going to protest, I added, “Look, I know you want the best for me, but I really do love working here. It’s the best fit for me.” She continued to eye me skeptically, so I changed the subject. “Yosemite’s tomorrow. Excited?”

  “Of course. As long as the wildlife behaves, it’s always so refreshing being up there.” Camping was the other thing Mom was weird about. She loved it for the most part. Every year when we went up to the park, she always seemed like she belonged in the woods. But at the same time, she would always get paranoid because of this huge fear of mountain lions. I knew they’re out there, but she would blow it way out of proportion. She would get really anxious for the first couple of hours, until she finally realized there weren’t giant cats hiding behind every tree. Eric and I would just have to watch the plants grow while we waited for her to let us go explore.

  “What are we talking about?” Eric asked as he strode back into the kitchen.

  “Yosemite. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you not to poison us again,” I teased. Two years ago, Eric had brought a field guide with him so he could try gathering some berries for us. The ones he picked had us all puking within an hour. The same thing happened last year with a different kind of berry. It’s a good thing he lives in the modern world because gathering does not seem to be his thing.

  “Ha ha. I’d like to see you do better.” He flicked flour at me. I coughed and waved away the cloud.

  “Okay, I admit I can’t tell the difference between a lot of those berries either, but at least I can contribute to our meals without food poisoning.” I always went fishing in the river and was usually successful enough that we’d have my catch for dinner every night.

  “Oh, you think you’re so cool, Mr. Fisherman. It doesn’t take much skill to throw a string tied to a hook into the water.”

  “Skill or no skill, you go to sleep full, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah. This time I challenge you to catch a fish with your bare hands. We’ll see which one of us has more skills.”

  “Catching a fish by hand will prove that?”

  “It’s harder, isn’t it?”

  “Then fine, you’re on.”

  Our banter continued into the evening, only interrupted by a few customers coming to pick up their orders. Mom’s cake was picked up last, and it was clear from the woman’s face that she believed she was going to have a very happy daughter the next day. By the time we closed, I was exhausted from the day but also really anxious to get going. I went to bed with the feeling that this was going to be a damn good trip. I dreamed of catching a fish with my bare hands, hiking through the woods until my calves burned, and climbing the tallest tree to find yellow eyes staring at me through a curtain of black hair.