FEATHERMORE - Prologue and first 3 chapters

**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.”

I took one more look back, but there was nothing there—just the dark, empty street. I sank lower on my seat and closed my eyes, trying to get the image of the creature out of my head.

****



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