Free Perception by Kim Harrington Page A

been just some stranger checking out girls in their dresses. Or it could have been my secret admirer. Following me.
    “What did he look like?” I asked.
    “I didn’t ask,” the saleswoman said, putting a pen and the receipt on the counter for Mallory to sign.
    “Where’s the customer who saw him?” I pressed.
    “Long gone.” She slapped the credit card back on the counter. “Listen, girls, take it as a compliment. And enjoy it while you can. Youth is fleeting. When you’re my age, you’d give anything to have someone ogle you.”
    Mallory didn’t seem too concerned on the way home. She said she figured it was a random person who happened to be walking by, not a stalker or anything. And that was a reasonable argument, but try telling that to my intuition.
    She dropped me off at home and sped away. No cars were in the driveway. I tried the knob. Locked. On my way out, I hadn’t brought my key, figuring the chances of both Mom and Perry being out were the same as Tiffany becoming myBFF. Thankfully, we kept an extra key hidden under a potted plant on the porch.
    I let myself in and flopped onto the couch, every sound I made echoing in the quiet. I got up on my knees and peeked out the window like a dog waiting for its owner. The driveway stayed empty. There had been times when I’d have paid money to have the house to myself like this. But now I wanted someone to talk to.
    I felt so much pressure about this stupid dance. From Mallory. And from Justin and Gabriel. I knew it wasn’t fair for me to keep both guys hanging on. But I wasn’t, really. They could date whoever they wanted. I didn’t tell either one of them to wait for me. But, at the same time, I didn’t want to be rushed into making a choice. I wanted to explore friendships with both of them, and figured a romance would organically grow when I was ready.
    It would be so much better to have someone to talk this out with, but I had no one. If I complained to Mallory about the pain of choosing between two hot guys, she’d roll her eyes and make some sarcastic comment about those being great problems to have. If I tried to talk it out with Mom, she’d just give me garbage about how my inner self already knew the answers and I just needed to listen.
    Believe me, I’ve tried that. Apparently my inner self is mute.
    I was about to give inner Clare another go when I heard a sound. A creak from upstairs. Then another. Like footsteps.
    I shot up from the couch and stood at the bottom of the staircase, listening so hard I wasn’t even breathing. Another shuffling sound came from around Perry’s room.
    I bolted into the kitchen and grabbed a large knife from the drawer. Then I grabbed the cordless phone. I dialed 9, 1, and held it with my finger on the 1 while I raised the knife in my other hand. Icy fear raced through me as I quietly climbed the stairs. I peeked down the hallway. The door to Perry’s room was slightly ajar. I crept up to it, heart pumping madly with adrenaline, phone and knife at the ready. I took a deep breath and kicked it open.
    Perry screamed.
    I screamed.
    “What are you doing?” Perry yelled.
    “What are you doing?” I shouted back.
    “You’re the one with the knife and the —” He raised an eyebrow. “What were you going to do, beat me with the cordless?”
    I glanced up at the phone raised high. I sighed and laid them both on his desk. “Your car isn’t in the driveway.”
    “So? Nate took it out to get us some food. Why would you make the leap to a psycho killer hanging out in my room? Jumpy much?”
    “It’s just …” I dragged my hands through my hair. “I’m a little wired because I’ve been getting these anonymous notes.”
    He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Threatening you?”
    “No, complimenting actually. But —”
    Perry shook his head, his brotherly worries gone. “You seriously need to stop watching all those horror movies. You nearly stabbed me because you have a secret admirer?”
    My face