**Quick Note: Blogger is being a bit of a pain in the butt and changing fonts, sizes, spacing, etc. So I apologize if it all looks weird. Hope you guys enjoy the Prologue and first 3 chapters of FEATHERMORE.**
Prologue
I knew what was happening,
even though I could not understand why. I was falling; that much was
unmistakable. The air rushed around me, buffeting me.
What would I do once I
arrived? Would I even remember this past existence? I closed my eyes and
resigned myself to the feeling of peace that the wind beneath me always brought.
Soon it would all be over.
I finally reached the
ground. A shiver of energy ran across my skin and back as each cell began its
transformation. I was being born. I opened my eyes and glanced around at the strange,
colorful world. The trees stood tall, casting shadows like great carpets
unrolled from their bases. The sky above me was like a dome closed over a music
box. I had never seen anything more beautiful . . . had I? I shook my head to
clear the haze.
I tried to balance myself on
a fallen tree trunk. I wasn’t used to walking on these feet. I looked down,
wiggling my toes, and let go of the tree and took a few steps forward. My body
felt heavy, and then darkness fell over me.
1
“Jade! I swear, if you don’t
get up now . . .” Mom closed the bedroom door, trusting the threat of the
unsaid to throw me into motion.
I groaned and kicked off the
warm covers.
“I’m up!” I called back to
her.
I sat up on my bed and
dangled my feet over the edge. It was the first day of senior year, and I was
dreading it.
I moved over to the closet,
where I chided myself for being too lazy to pick an outfit last night. I grabbed
a pair of denim shorts and my old AC/DC long-sleeved T-shirt and made my way to
the bathroom. I was almost done with my morning routine when I heard the door
creak.
“Jade? Are you almost
ready?” My best friend’s high-pitched singsong voice called from behind the
door. “Are you decent?”
“Yeah, come in. I’m almost
done.” I leaned closer to the mirror and applied the black eye-liner to my
lower lid. Claire sat on the edge of the bathtub and played with the hem of her
skirt.
“Ready for another fun-filled
year of schoolwork?” She met my gaze in the mirror, and I rolled my eyes.
“It’s going to be torture,”
I said, putting my makeup bag back in the drawer. “But at least it’s our last
year.” I picked up the messenger bag from the floor next to my bed. I shouldn’t
be in a rush to get out of Hollow Falls, but somehow I needed to. Hollow Falls
is home to 5,385 people, and, as the song goes, “where everybody knows your
name.” I felt suffocated in such a small town. I had dreams, things I wanted to
do that I couldn’t see myself doing here.
Claire followed me
downstairs. Mom was in the kitchen, busy packing my lunch. On the table were
two plates of pancakes, eggs, and bacon.
Claire was as big a presence
in this house as I. We seemed to be attached at the hip, and she practically
lived here—mostly because of Trent. He was another foster kid in the Langleys’
house, and a total creep.
“Mom, I’m not really that
hungry,” I said.
“You’re going to need all
the energy you can get, just to stay awake after last night.”
Claire’s eyebrows scrunched
in puzzlement.
“Oh, Mom, it was just a
nightmare.” Not precisely the truth, but as close as I was willing to let
things get. It wouldn’t go well if I told them what really happened—what had been
happening all summer long.
Claire and I sat down at the
table, and I was surprised at how hungry I actually was. After I had stuffed
myself, I pushed around what was left on my plate. Deep in thought, I felt my
eyelids get heavy, and that quickly I was lost in the darkness behind them.
“Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke,” came the whisper that only I could
hear. As the word rolled softly out, a flash of red burst in the darkness. I
gasped and open my eyes in shock.
“Are you okay?” Claire’s
voice was distant, as if muffled by an invisible water bubble around me. It was
the cool touch of her hand on mine that brought me back to reality. She was
staring at me.
I wanted to tell her
everything. All about the eerie yet wonderful dreams of a gorgeous dark-haired
stranger who kept me awake night after night, haunting my sleep. And about the
nightmares of being chased by the dark figure with fire instead of hair. But
how could I? I gave a low, soft sigh and went over to the kitchen sink, dropping
my plate in it and giving Mom a kiss.
“Ready?” I asked Claire,
ruffling her perfectly styled blond bob in passing. I giggled and ran to the
door to keep a safe distance from any retaliation. “’Bye, Mom,” I yelled, running
outside and down the driveway, where I waited until Claire caught up.
“I am so going to get you
later,” she said as she pulled out her compact mirror and fixed a few loose
strands of hair.
“There, there. All perfect
now,” I said as we began walking. I felt a little twinge of jealousy. She was perfect. Between her golden hair
that seemed to shine like ripe wheat, and her perfect almond-shaped gray eyes,
I sometimes I had a hard time being next to her.
Brushwood High was only a
few blocks from my house, and the weather was nice, so we walked. The sky was
bare of clouds, and the temperature was perfect. The streets were quiet. Only
the soft eep, eep of a chickadee,
staking out his turf in the rhododendron bushes, broke the silence. I closed my
eyes and took a deep breath, absorbing the last bouquet of summer smells:
honeysuckle and chamomile and horsemint and new-mown grass. Once winter came
and the cold started seeping into our bones, we would be forced to take
Claire’s yellow Beetle to stay warm.
Brushwood was different from
any other school I knew. It was privately owned, and mostly only well-off
parents could afford the tuition. I had often wondered why my parents worked
longer hours just so I could go there. An even bigger mystery was how Claire’s
foster parents managed it.
* * *
The school was ancient. Its
gray limestone walls made it seem cold, but the inside was anything but. The
building had once been a mansion, and the owners kept it that way, though with
a few add-ons, such as the cafeteria and a brand-new west wing. The rooms were big,
considering that they had to accommodate only about twenty students each.
We were walking along the
narrow hallway, deep in conversation, when someone banged into me, knocking the
few books I was carrying to the floor. I looked back, even though I knew who
would be standing there: Amy Crayhill, all-American mean girl. She grinned at
her minion, Savannah, and mouthed a fake Oops!
my way. Typical.
And when I turned back around,
there he was! Tall, muscular—and holding out my books. Hello, Muscles! My
eyes worked their way up to his face. As if that body weren’t enough, his face
almost made me melt. No way. Gorgeous!
Claire was staring at him,
her mouth slightly open. It seemed she agreed with my assessment.
“Here you go,” he said, handing
me my books.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t
even make my mouth utter a simple thank-you. I just stood there gaping like an
idiot.
Claire exhaled loudly and
took the books from him. “Thanks,” she groaned as she pulled me toward our
lockers. “What’s gotten into you?”
I glanced back and was
surprised to find him still in the same spot, looking at me. My lips pulled at
the edges, and I managed to smile back at him.
“You know him?” I asked
Claire, failing in my feeble attempt at nonchalance.
“No,” she said. Then she
brightened. “Oh, look, there’s Nate!” She let go of my arm and handed me my
books before hurrying away.
I shamelessly stole another
look down the hallway, but he was gone. There was a weird buzzing energy inside
me. Excitement, maybe? No one ever moved into
our nowhere little berg; it was usually the other way around.
As usual, Nate was leaning
against our lockers, his nose in a car magazine. He lifted his eyes from the
page just as Claire launched herself at him. She threw her arms around his neck
and kissed him. One week apart, and they acted as if they hadn’t seen each
other all summer.
“Gross.” I glanced around, scouting
to make sure no teachers were looking. When they finally came up for air I said,
“I don’t know how you do it, Nate. She spent the whole week whining about you
being gone.” I slid my books into the locker and arranged them neatly by
height. “Oh, I wonder what he’s doing now,” I said, mimicking her. “Oh, I hope
he’s safe.” I rolled my eyes.
“You’re just jealous,” she
said, sticking her tongue out.
I laughed, mostly because of
the mouselike way her nose wrinkled up.
First period, the class I
paid the least attention in, was world history. The first day of the year was
always rough, and today would have been no exception, but the exciting prospect
of seeing him again kept me awake,
alert, and alive, ready to listen to Mr. Morris’s every droning word about
pre-Roman Europe.
Nate, Claire, and I had been
inseparable since the beginning of high school. In fact, those two were already
glued together well before I even met them.
People often made fun that I was the eternal third wheel on their bicycle built
for two.
I found my way to the last
row and took the seat closest to the window so I could enjoy the view of the
clear blue water in the bay. Wishing it were still summer, I gazed out at the
boats on the water.
“Can’t we sit closer to the
front?” Claire hissed. “We look like hermits back here.”
“Be my guest,” I said. “I
like it back here.” It was true. Being able to see everyone gave me some sense
of control—no sneak attacks could come from behind. Maybe being tormented by
Amy all these years was starting to leave a scar after all. Claire sighed
loudly and sat down at the desk in front of me, pouting. Nate took the seat beside
her.
As I busied myself pulling
out my notebook from my backpack, I caught a glimpse of Claire and Nate. Their
mouths had dropped in unison, and their eyes were locked on something in the
hall, seen through the glass of our now closed classroom door. There was
nothing but a blank wall outside.
“Are you guys okay?” I
asked.
They closed their mouths and
nodded, trying to make it seem as though all was well. But their expressions
remained strange. They were always the very picture of calm, peace, and tranquility,
but right now their eyes showed a mixture of surprise and anxiety. Almost
crackling with tension, they looked at each other but didn’t say a word.
“Seriously guys,” I said, “what
the hell?”
The abrupt opening of the
classroom door captured everyone’s attention. I jumped in my seat, banging my
knees against my desk, half expecting to see a blood-crazed zombie come
lurching in. But it was only Mr. Morris, fumbling through an apologetic explanation
instead of enjoying his prerogative to be late.
The clamor subsided as
Morris began the usual introductions and explanations, with the usual little
chirps and flutters from the class interrupting his routine speech. A minute or
two into this, the door swung open again, and he walked in, with his backpack slung over one shoulder.
I looked down at my notebook
and tried to hide the smile that crept over my face. From the corner of my eye,
I saw Nate and Claire staring at me, but I was too excited to pay them much attention.
The latecomer handing in his tardy slip was far more interesting.
“Oh, so the new kid is late
on his very first day,” Mr. Morris joked as he placed the slip on top of some
scattered papers on his desk. He looked over his roster. “Don’t worry, you get
the standard punishment: staying awake for the rest of class.”
A few alert kids, including me,
chuckled, but we all stopped when he spoke again: “All right, everyone,” he
continued while the new kid stood next to him, looking a little self-conscious.
“Our newcomer’s name is Avan Thomas. Someone, please let him sit down without
making him feel awkward.” Avan took a step forward.
I gave him a quick overall glance
again, and then my eyes ran back to his face, where, to my surprise and
discomfort, they met his. I turned away, pretending to be casual, pretending that
his being here didn’t faze me in the least, but I still felt strangely
embarrassed. I was relieved when he put those eyes to work scanning for an
empty desk—which happened to be the one beside mine.
Before sitting down, he insolently
saluted everyone who had been staring. I giggled under my breath as Mr. Morris
went on with his droning.
After searching his bag, Avan
reluctantly turned my way. I stiffened. He was about to tap my shoulder when
Claire grabbed my arm so hard, she almost pulled me out of my seat.
Way
to go, Claire—make me look clumsy! I thought. Though I
have to admit, if there was a wall in front of me, it was a good bet I would
walk straight into it.
“What!” I hissed in an exasperated
tone.
“Pay attention to class,” she said,
giving my arm a final squeeze.
I looked at Avan and gave him an
apologetic smile. I waited for him to continue with what he was going to say,
but instead he looked at Nick Frost, who was sitting on his other side, and
leaned over. Nick dug into his backpack and pulled out a pen, which he handed nervously
to Avan. No one ever talked to Nick. He had transferred from Hollow Falls
public school in sophomore year and had instantly been treated like a leper. I
guess the curly red hair, acne, and thick-framed reading glasses didn’t help
his case.
As I looked forward, trying hard to
listen to what was in store for the rest of the year, I could see some of the
girls in class turn around and bat their mascaraed eyelashes at Avan. Some were
whispering to each other, while others just “happened” to look his way. Could
they perhaps be a little more obvious? He had been in the room for all of three
minutes, and he already had half the girls drooling over him.
It was pretty clear that he would
not be another Nick Frost.
While Mr. Morris was busy scrawling
unreadable hieroglyphics on the chalkboard, Avan finally spoke to me.
“Hi.”
I turned to find him smiling at me,
his dark hair falling over his blue eyes.
“Hi.” My voice trembled. Why was he
making me so nervous?
“You’re still awake,” he said,
doing a mock stretch and messing up his hair with his hand. He had a thick
black leather bracelet on his wrist—the very one I was always eyeing at the
local Hot Topic store.
“Barely,” I said, laughing. “I’m
Jade.” By instinct, I suppose, I stuck out my hand.
“Avan,” he said, shaking.
I could never have prepared
myself for what happened next. The instant our hands touched, an explosion of
light blinded me. My hand tensed up so hard, my joints hurt. Through the dazzling
brightness, I could see the charge in his blue eyes. The image before me
changed into one of me floating in the sky, falling . . . until I reached him. I felt his hand go limp, and I
instantly let go, realizing that I was holding my breath.
I took a deep breath, and the blazing
light slowly dimmed. It took some time for my eyes to adjust, and a little bit
longer for my heart to stop trying to jump out of my chest.
After a first period that had proved to be anything
but boring, the bell rang.
“That’s quite a grip you’ve
got there, Jade,” Avan said, rubbing his hand in make-believe pain and smiling
nervously as he got up.
“Y-yeah,” I stuttered. Trying to
lighten the mood, I added, “I work out—what can I say?”
Had he felt it, too? Had he seen
the bright light? I looked nervously at Claire, who had turned to face us. Her
eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets.
What the hell had just happened?
Any trace of that girlish
excitement was wiped away by what I can only call an instant transformation of
my being.
Avan got up and walked toward the door, melting into
the eager, boisterous throng of dismissed students. He was tall enough that I
could see him out in the hall, making a quick study of his schedule before disappearing
down the hall.
It felt as though I sat still
forever at my desk before I dared to sling my messenger bag over my head and
look at Claire. Everything now felt normal; all systems seemed to be working
fine. This heartened me. Claire looked at me and then to where Avan had
disappeared.
“You have no idea what you’ve just
done,” she murmured.
2
“What is your problem,
Claire?” I asked through clenched teeth. “Why are you being so weird?”
She looked at me, and her
features suddenly softened. She smiled and waved me off as if I were crazy.
“Look, the guy seems nice,” she said. “But I don’t think he’s your type, you
know? Talking in class and getting into trouble isn’t worth it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”
I said. “You and I talk all the time. What’s so different now?” I could feel
that the topic was somehow upsetting me.
Claire and Nate led me out of the classroom and
onward to next period. I was a little uneasy about standing up and taking the
first few steps, not knowing if more blinding lights in my head would again reduce
me to Jell-O. The hallway was still busy with students greeting each other,
excited to catch up with friends they hadn’t seen in months. Adding to the
clamor was the clatter of lockers opening and slamming shut.
“Since when do I have a type?” I said. “It’s not
like I’ve had boyfriends or anything. I would think that file is still open for
further investigation.” Apparently, I still had all the charm of a Siamese cat.
My trademark sarcasm seemed to have come away from the experience unscathed.
“What Claire is trying to say, Jade, is that the new
kid doesn’t seem to come from the right kind of crowd for you.” Nate said. He
seemed to think it important that he go on the record as siding with his
girlfriend.
Crowd?
How would either of them have the foggiest notion what kind of “crowd” was
right for me? It seemed as if they were trying to convince themselves more than
me. Claire gave a sort of noncommittal nod, and we continued walking toward our
next class.
Suddenly, the first day back at school was proving
to be relentlessly difficult. At lunch, we went to the courtyard and sat under
my favorite oak tree. I was halfway through my sandwich when the mind-flooding
voice came through, loud as thunder, with nothing I could do to resist it. I got
only a dim understanding of what I was being told again: the same strange word
with the same sense of hearing it as a warning: “Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke.”
I squinted and shook my head. Claire and Nate looked at me in unison with
arched brows.
“Are you okay?” Nate asked.
I must have nodded, because he continued, while attempting to touch my hand,
which immediately darted away to hide in the grass behind me. “You sure don’t
look too well.”
“Yeah . . . just a
headache.” Like my hand, my mouth seemed to be working independently of me. I
set my tray to the side and put my head down on the wooden picnic table. I felt
the warmth of Claire’s hand on the back of my neck and jerked away.
“What?” she asked, putting
her hand on my shoulder. But no light blinded me this time. There was only a
sense of peace. I lay back on the grass with my head on my arm and closed my
eyes.
* * *
A small shake woke me from
the light sleep I had fallen into. Nate was gone, and Claire was looking at me with
concern.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” she said. I
opened my mouth to tell her, but would she even believe me? Could she possibly?
I
nodded and looked at my watch. I picked up my lunch sack and books, and we
walked past the cafeteria and back toward our lit class. I hurried in and sat
down in the far left corner. By now it would not have been a stretch to
complain of a headache. It seemed that the dam holding the force of what I had
been resisting all morning just crumbled. Usually, the voice was always
fleeting, but its effects lasted quite a while and sapped me of any vigor. All
I could do was rub my temples, sigh, and wish I could be in my bed.
The fluorescent lights above
us were not helping—forcing me to squint, adding to the pressure in my
forehead. I wished darkness would wash over me. As if on cue, the light bulbs
around my seat went off with an audible clicking sound. Mr. Gatley sent one of
the girls in the front row to tell the maintenance man about it.
I reached for the small
pocket of my bag, where I kept a few Band-Aids and some ibuprofen. I threw two
of the tablets onto my tongue and washed them down with a squeeze from an apple
juice carton I grabbed from Claire’s bag. She let me off with just a scowl. I
half smiled and rested my head, which felt heavier than ever, on my left hand—yet
another symptom of my need to be always vigilant. “Better heads up than heads
rolling,” I always said. But why couldn’t I ever just let my guard down even a
little?
It was odd that after the
morning’s strange events and the last booming intrusion by the voice, [Wordy.
Don’t spend so many words getting something across. Yes, you want to keep the
word count up, but you don’t do this by being verbose. You still must get every
thought and image across in the fewest words.]I was starting to think that maybe
I should try to communicate with it. Perhaps the voice that was warning me over
and over about that unpronounceable thing might shed a little more light on
what it meant.
Yup, I was definitely going off
the deep end. Was I really contemplating a conversation with a voice in my
head? As if it weren’t bad enough being the only one hearing it! [“Incredulity”
is not the right word here. (I don’t know what you’re after.) Get that
dictionary installed, so you can check. You’ll also want Garner’s Modern American Usage (no CD-ROM on this one, I’m afraid).
I would still try when I got
home. I was usually alone until Mom came home from work at five thirty. That
would give me enough time, though Claire was most likely going to hang out
after school. It seemed that Mom had gotten a bargain: two girls for the price
of one.
The rest of the day went
smoothly and without further mishap. It looked as though luck was on my side—I found myself in three
other classes with Avan. He seemed to be taking it in stride, and actually
spoke to me again as we walked together to our last period, biology.
I opened my eyes and watched
the way Avan took notes and listened in class. He was absolutely gorgeous. He
was sitting across the room from me, but I could swear that I heard his heart
beating. Strong and steady. His eyes met mine, and his heart beat faster—or was
it mine?
Before I knew it, Claire and
I were walking home, [One doesn’t “let” the breeze do anything. It does what it
wants.]feeling the light breeze move pleasantly around us. I babbled about Avan
for a moment, but only until I realized Claire wasn’t listening to a word I was
saying. As usual when they were apart, she was already texting Nate.
Finally, in the peace and
calm of home, though my head felt quite clear, I told Claire I was going to
take a shower—the perfect excuse to have some alone time and try to evoke the
voice. I abandoned Claire, who needed no looking after while lounging happily downstairs,
her eyes glued to the TV. I couldn’t understand her fascination with those reality
shows. There was no real anything; it was all scripted, and everyone knew it.
I wanted to see if the voice
would come. I wanted to try to provoke it, wanted it to know that I heard it loud
and clear. In my room, I made sure Claire was still babbling away on the phone,
with the TV on, before I closed the door.
I lay on my bed with my
ankles crossed and my eyes closed. What now? I lay there, but the only voice
that came to me was Claire’s muffled chatter from downstairs. Come on, voice—talk.
“Hi,” I croaked out loud.
“Oh, how stupid,” I whispered to myself, embarrassed at the thought of being
heard. I cleared my throat and continued softly, looking at the closed door.
“Can you hear me?” I closed my eyes and waited for an answer, but none came. At
least the voice was keeping quiet. Should that mean anything? “If you can hear
me, I have heard your warning and I understand.” I didn’t really have a clue; I
just needed it to stop. “You don’t need to keep repeating yourself over and
over again.”
Silence.
I held my breath. Had it heard
me? Was it that easy? I opened my eyes, uncrossed my legs, rolled onto my side,
and enjoyed the first real quiet time I had had all day.
The comfort of the sheets,
and the peace of mind my little experiment gave me lulled me into a meditative
half-awake, half-asleep state. I imagined again the moment when our hands met,
and the thrilling sensation that had coursed through me, changing me. I became
aware that it felt as though I was getting used to being in a new skin. There
was an especially strange sensation wrapping around my shoulders, but I didn’t
find it unpleasant. I dreamed of limitless, beckoning skies. There was a soft
whisper. “She will soon be coming. Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke.” It was soft
and low, and so clear. The vision faded, and I opened my eyes. I had finally
understood correctly.
3
Nate came over to the house
around six. Claire blew on her freshly painted nails and carefully closed the
pink nail polish. Even though both she and Nate ate with my family almost every
night, tonight just we kids were going out for some burgers at the local diner.
Why celebrate the first day back at school? I had no idea, but I was pretty
sure that whoever came up with this tradition must have been a total nerd.
Charley’s Diner was the most
popular hangout spot for kids in our school, and to get a good table, you had
to get there early. Nate dropped us off at the front so we could grab a booth
before the crowd showed up. We sat on opposite sides and both reached for a menu.
It was an involuntary motion, I suppose, since we always ordered the same thing:
a Biggie Burger with the works—cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, and bacon on a toasty
grilled bun. My mouth watered at the mere thought.
I watched the door open,
expecting it to be Nate, but instead it was the oh-so-popular Amy and her
cheerleading clique. After them came a couple of the guys from the football
team and, to my surprise, Avan.
Amy had always made it her mission
in life to go out of her way to make every kid at Brushwood who was not worthy
of her friendship feel miserable. Even the popular students were harassed
sometimes, and the only one truly immune to her viciousness was any attractive
boy—in this case, Avan. When Amy’s little coterie found their seats, I could
see that she was behaving exactly as expected. She patted the spot next to her,
and Avan followed. She batted her long, dark eyelashes at him as she twirled
her hair. I sank lower in my seat, raising the menu so they wouldn’t see me . .
. so he wouldn’t see me.
“What’s going on?”
Nate had walked in, but I
had been too preoccupied with hating Amy to notice. He pulled my menu to the
side.
I rolled my eyes and pulled
the menu back to my face, this time right up to my nose. “Amy’s here, and she
brought the new kid along,” I said, nodding toward their table. Nate closed his
eyes and shook his head slightly. Claire sat with a straw in her mouth. She
followed my gaze to the corner table where Amy and her crew were sitting, and
gave them a look of disapproval.
“Well, there goes another
victim.” Claire sat straighter as the waitress approached with our usual
chocolate milkshakes.
“Why are you so down on
him?” I said. Whatever she had against the guy was a bit of a mystery. Claire
and Nate never treated anyone like an outcast—they knew what that felt like.
“Jade, darling, think about
it. He is sitting with Amy, and you
know the kind of people she attracts, so . . .”
She did have a valid point
there. The only kind of people who dated Amy tended to have a pretty thin
cerebral cortex. Amy’s fake laughter echoed throughout the diner every time
Avan spoke. She tossed her hair to the side and moved closer to him.
My hands balled into fists
every time she touched him.
I wanted to enjoy the evening. I wanted not to care about her or about her being
with him. But it was proving futile. Even though my eyes kept seeking him, he
never once looked my way. I assumed he was too busy being cool. Now that he was
in with popular crowd, it seemed that nothing else mattered. We finished our
meals and sat for a while, talking about everything and nothing.[Overusing this
“idle chat,” “small talk,” etc.]
I needed to stall our departure. I didn’t just want
to get up and walk past them. Knowing Amy, she would take any chance to make a
fool of me. That would be the perfect way to kill the competition she saw in
Claire and me. I was hoping her group would leave before we did, but they just
kept talking. I got my chance to escape when Avan got up to go to the restroom.
I practically pulled Claire and Nate bodily out of their chairs, and the moment
Avan stepped out of sight we made our exit.
Amy didn’t let me down, though. She piped up when
she saw us walking past, but we moved too fast for her to finish a sentence.
After we were a few steps out the door, she came running out with Savannah and
Melissa, two of her cheerleader friends.
“Look, girls, there go the three little freaks.
Going home to make your little voodoo dolls?” She stood with her weight on one
leg, and her hand on her hip.
I usually would just let her taunt and insult me,
but seeing her with Avan had woken something in me—something that wasn’t
necessarily nice. I turned and walked right up to her face.
“What is your problem, Amy? Huh? I don’t get it. You
don’t feel good enough about yourself, so you have to put everyone else down?
Why don’t you find a better way of living your life, and leave us out of your misery.”
Her friends dropped their
jaws in disbelief. She tried to hide her shock, but it was too late. She
scowled at me a little longer and added, “Don’t even think for a second you are
invited to my party this Friday, freak.” With a flip of her hair, she strutted back
into the diner.
“Ooh-h-h-h!” I grunted the
moment the door closed behind her. I kicked the ground.[As written, the door
closed behind her and kicked the ground.] “I cannot stand her! Who does she think she is?” I wasn’t talking to anyone
in particular—just hoping that one day I would be able to understand. Claire looped
her arm through mine and pulled me forward.
Nate had parked a couple
blocks away from the diner, and as we hurried along the dark streets of
downtown, I saw something move from the corner of my eye. I peered at it. The
person or animal was crawling strangely on the sidewalk across the street. It
seemed as though someone had a bit too much to drink or had fallen.
Nate and Claire were on that
side of me, making a clear view impossible. I slowed down to get a better look.
At first it was too dark. The nearest streetlight to where the person was slouching
had been shattered—I could still see the glinting glass shards on the ground. I
couldn’t make out what the figure was doing, but as my eyes adjusted to the
darkness I could see it crawl across the sidewalk, into an alley, and (unless I
really was going insane) up onto the side of the building. I
stopped, frozen.
“What is that?” I
said, louder than necessary. My voice carried on the empty street.
Both Claire and Nate turned
and glanced across the street. At that moment, the person or animal climbed
down off the wall and began making its way over to us on all fours. It
approached with fast, jerking motions. Its head was cocked sideways, and its
face was covered in a dark, shiny liquid. It couldn’t be sweat. It looked more
like blood.
Claire searched for my hand
and pulled me forward. “Run!” she cried, and our feet pounded the gravel as we
made our way toward the car. She dipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket
and fumbled with the keys. Once, twice, she tried to unlock it, and nothing
happened.
I looked back. Nate was
falling behind. “Come on, Nate! Run!” I yelled. The thing was still coming at
us on all fours, its head cocked to one side and then the other in what looked
like painful motions. I could hear a gurgling sound in its chest as it closed
in on us.
The car lights blinked twice
as it unlocked. Claire swung the back door open and shoved me into the seat,
then got into the front passenger seat. My heart thudded like a jackhammer. My
hand hovered over the lock button, ready to slam it down the second Nate got in.[Yes,
good.] First I looked out the back window, just as Nate trotted up and
got into the car. He turned to face Claire and then me with a smile.
“The man was just lost,” he
said as he started the engine. “I guided him to where he needed to go.”
“Th-that was no man!” I
gasped. “I . . . uh, don’t know what it was, but . . . uh, but it was ugly and
creepy, and definitely not a
man!” I was still
trying to catch my breath, and yelling wasn’t helping.
“Oh, Jade, you watch way too
many scary movies,” Claire joked.
If it was a man that was
lost, then why had she taken off running with me? I saw that thing, and it was not human. I kept playing the
image in my mind, its body hairless and darkened as if it had been burned, and
the way its neck was bent. I shivered.
“Seriously, Jade, it was
nothing,” Nate said as he pressed on the gas and moved the car out onto the
street. “Your imagination just created something that wasn’t there.”
