Chapter 1
Oh, no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, not again, this can't be happening. Not to me. Not to...
Tearing through my room, I desperately searched for something, anything, to cover it up. Must hide it. Maybe it will go away, if I just hide it. Or maybe it won't. Oh, maybe it won't!
Grabbing make-up, scarves, hats, anything, I dart to my vanity mirror and scrutinize my face, trying on first one disguise, then another. But deep down, I know it's futile.
With a sob, I eventually let the scarf in my hand fall in shimmering folds, and then I lean forward, trembling, onto my folded arms.
There's nowhere I can go. No one to turn to for help, for trust. If I try to tell anyone, I know what will happen. I do. I've seen it. My...my life will not be mine anymore. Instead, I will be trapped, surrounded for my own protection, and it still won't make any difference. There will be no place left to hide, because this thing—Won't—STOP.
It will keep growing, and changing, and taking over, until there's nothing of me left. Maybe I have no choice but to become. I'll change and change until it's done, and then, then they'll come for me. Here, where I'm supposed to be safe, they'll come for me.
Seems like it could only have been five minutes ago that this all started. Not hours, days, weeks. But between then and now, I feel like I've aged entire lifetimes. My body and mind can't endure this without some sort of price. It was such a short time ago, before my world twisted . Shifted. Changed.
Mr. Clancy paced at the front of the room, gesturing with his free hand while pointing at some chart with the ruler in his other. His tie was tucked into his belt again, though I was fairly sure he didn't realize it. His comb-over barely covered over anything, so that the bald scalp shone out regardless, as if trying to escape the sweaty constriction of hair. Not particularly appealing.
The sun looked appealing outside, but it was a lie. This autumn day couldn't have topped 60 degrees, for all the buttery sunshine. Speaking of butter, I didn't get nearly enough breakfast this morning. The energy from the butter and jelly seemed to burn up before I got to school. Urrgh, I was hungry! Maybe my stomach was eating itself. Well, now it was a gamble of whether I'd die of boredom or starvation first. Hmm, death...Oh, yeah. Civil War.
Let's see, Battle of Saratoga. Mr. Clancy recited the specifics in a monotone voice, obviously as bored as I was. Umm, death, killing, fighting, some bloody stuff, some more death…I saw a pattern there, and didn't really care to focus on it.
Ooh, goose bumps!
Grimacing, I glared sideways across the room, trying to pin the culprit to the wall. Somebody'd opened a window on the far side of the room, and now I could feel the chilly wind sneak up my back. For the love of heat, were they numb? It was frigging cold out there! And I didn't even have a jacket. My t-shirt was still damp, and my jacket was in my locker. And my hair was sticky. And my car might be up on blocks when I got back outside.
Grrr.
It occurred to me that the start to my day must have been a harbinger of how the rest would play out. And, it had not started well.
Waking up at 6:15 this morning, I had dragged myself into the shower with my gritty eyes half-closed. Turning the silver knobs to the right temperature was a challenge in itself, and I'll not even discuss the trouble I had getting out of my pajamas. When at last I triumphantly entered the shower, I simply stood and waited for the steamy drench to wash away the fuzz in my head. There were minimal results. Last night had not been what one would call peaceful. I'd dreamed again, like I used to do when I was little. Several times. And now I was dreaming with a theme, though at least it wasn't a nightmare. Just strange. So strange.
Giving up complete alertness as a lost cause, I grabbed the shampoo bottle and lathered up without holding my eyes open any longer.
Ten minutes later, I woke up again and rinsed out my hair, after peeling my cheek off the wall where I'd leaned when I'd dozed off. The whole side of my face was grainy, copying the texture of the shower siding. Hopelessly attempting to rub my skin back to normalcy, I completed the rest of my morning routine, including teeth-brushing, hair-de-tangling, contact-cleaning, and deodorant-applying. It was only at the last moment that I remembered the deodorant goes in the armpits.
In a slightly more wakeful frame of mind, I retreated to my bedroom. While sifting through piles of clothes on the floor, I happened to glance at my bedside alarm clock. I was suddenly even grumpier, and much more energized.
7:20 AM. None of the clothes on my floor were clean, as the floor itself hadn't been vacuumed for months. Hey, it hadn't even seen sunshine for longer than I cared to remember. Panicked, I ran into the laundry room and rummaged through the dryer for something not so dirty. Grabbing the first black t-shirt I found, I yanked it on over my head and settled it around my shoulders. It was still damp, and not at all pleasant in the brisk morning chill. But there was no time. I still had to manage my hair somehow, and crap, I definitely needed some food!
My growling stomach urged me to even speedier action. Yanking a brush through my rising curls, I forced them into a handy ponytail and headed downstairs before I could worry too much about my appearance.
Mom was already alert and sparkly, having the uncanny ability to rise from bed with a positive attitude. I've never mastered that one. Never even tried, really.
"Morning, sweetie!!" she chirped, popping toast into the toaster with butter and jam at the ready. "Are you hungry?"
I just stared at her, trying to formulate a coherent sentence, and perhaps not babble for once.
"Could you just, just not do that sho earr…ear…," A unexpected yawn cracked my face in half, making her chuckle.
"Early in the morning? It's kinda unnerving," I finished. She just smiled and kept making my breakfast.
I swear, my stomach is a black hole. I'm pretty much always hungry, but Mom knows this, and prepares well.
Bryan wasn't up yet. He rarely got up before 9:00 AM, but then, he didn't have to. Being two, he only had to watch cartoons and beat up stuffed animals all day.
Lucky.
Regrettably, this morning he decided to be the early bird. At that moment, he began to squall from his upstairs bedroom. The shriek just went on and on, jangling on my frazzled nerves. I groggily wondered what interesting shade of blue he would turn, if he never did stop screaming.
As Mom bustled out of the kitchen, I took over the breakfast operation, and clumsily nabbed the pieces of bread when they popped up. Blowing on my toasted fingers, I proceeded to spread on the butter and jelly, before retiring to the kitchen table with my meal.
Five minutes later, I woke up for the third time that morning, and pulled my ponytail out of the jelly where it had landed. Just then, Mom came down the stairs with Bryan on one hip, shushing and cuddling him into complacency.
"Don't you need to be heading off to school, honey?" Looking closer at me, she amended that. "Better yet, how many fingers am I holding up?" I halfheartedly glared up at her. "It's almost 8:00, Sam." Now I had barely enough time to get to school without getting detention.
Mom spoke with concern, but a bit of amusement crept in. Taking in my disheveled appearance, she stuffed Bryan into his blue plastic highchair and wrapped my toast in a paper towel. With bustling efficiency, she then turned and snagged my bookbag, shoving both that and my breakfast into my hands. In her blue fleece sweater, she resembled a fuzzy, azure tornado as she worked. Before I took a second bite, she was hustling me out the front door, and left me standing bemusedly on the front step, keys dangling from my thumb. She's got being a mother down to a science.
We live on the very outskirts of town, and the high school is more near the center, along with the town square and assorted businesses. Hopping into my car, I stuck the keys into the ignition and resignedly backed out of the driveway, heading forward with the general flow of traffic.
I drove in a daze, barely registering my surroundings, wishing that I'd walked, instead of jumping into the man-made death trap. Oh, well. Classes beckon way too early. Have to enlarge the hole in the ozone instead.
The first two periods weren't anything special. Algebra and Chemistry didn't exactly light up my life. Now I was here, stuck in the never-ending mod of history, trying to look awake enough to keep out of detention. Why wouldn't he just shut up?
Restlessly shifting, I let my gaze roam around the room a bit. Bulletin boards and outdated posters covered the walls, much the same in every other classroom. The students scrunched into desk seats, trying not to fall asleep, just like in every other class. It was all so square and defined. So dull, but I had nothing else to look at. Everyone was either sleeping, actually studying, glaring at their folded arms, or...visually wandering, like the pair of eyes that met my own.
A tired blue, they were, and surrounded by plenty of fly-away dusty-blond hair. They didn't flinch away, and I found myself caught in an unwanted staring contest. Unfortunately, I was no good at eye-contact. I always felt like it made other people as uncomfortable as it did me, so I'd start to blush in embarrassment, and before you knew it I'd turn a humiliating Irish-heritage red. Ducking my head again, I pretended I'd never looked at all. I doubted he even noticed, but it was best to act nonchalant. That's right, avoid the awkwardness. Always easier that way. Always smarter...
Surreptitiously glancing again, I saw the back of his head as he watched the sunshine drift through the leaves of the trees, creating a never-ending jigsaw puzzle on the school grounds. Not a bad-looking guy, from the glimpse I'd caught. Not amazing or anything, though. Just ordinary. Kind of like me.
I thought his name was…umm…Cull, Cullen Davers. Yeah, that was it. He might have had Art with me. Maybe.
Just above my head, the rusty old bell system sounded, making me start so badly that I dropped my pencil. Shifting my shoulders again under my clinging t-shirt, I stuffed all my things into my book bag and slung it over my shoulder, before continuing on to Health.
"Just Say No!" Sure, if they repeated it often enough, it'd all of a sudden matter in our heads. There would be a blinding moment of truth, when we'd realize how all drugs were a straight path to Hell. Sure. In a few years, we'd be old enough to smoke and drink with abandon, and then what good would all their speeches have done? For every person, like me, who wanted to avoid the stupidity, there were dozens more who already reveled in it. Might as well save the oxygen.
As the clock hands continued their endless cycle, lunchtime arrived. Slouching to the cafeteria, I drifted in with as little disturbance as possible. Not that it would matter if I'd screamed, though. A thousand different shrieks, laughs, shouts, and whispers resounded in the rafters, combining into a mass as colorful as the lunch itself.
Trying not to bump into anyone, I shuffled through the line as quickly as possible, and then strode quickly to my habitual table.
Michelle was already there, carefully arranging her silverware and straw before taking meticulous bites of her messy mashed potatoes. She wiped her lips after every mouthful, as if paranoid that some stubborn gravy would cling and ruin her personal image forever. Whatever floated her boat, I supposed. At least she was eating again.
Sliding into a chair opposite of her, I peeled open my milk carton and sat back with a sigh. Half-way done, now. After school, I'd escape outside, to the limitless sky and dark woods, where I only listened to the wind. Yeah, that'd help. I just needed some time in solitude, I thought.
Slowly, our table filled with the regulars: Daniel, Shawna, Nicole, Aaron. They chattered of silly things, like usual. Generally, I would have joined right in, babbling with the rest. But not today. I was too tired.
Daniel looked at me strangely, and, when I glanced dover, questioned me with his eyes. It's nothing, my own replied. It's just been a long day.
And it really wasn't anything. I just had these phases, every once in a while. They were my blah days, when nothing really seemed quite worth the effort. Why get out of bed? I'd just have to get back in it at the end of the day. Why be sociable? I could save that for tomorrow.
Sitting silently amid the buzz, my eyes shifted aimlessly around, alighting for a moment on a shifting sunbeam, a flashing smile full of teeth, a moth fluttering near the roof. The rafters in the lunchroom could have used at least a thorough dusting, if not a new coat of paint, but then that old bird's nest would be thrown away, and where would the hatchlings sleep? Students gossiped and flitted from table to table, and even though I couldn't hear their words, the meanings were fairly clear. I slid farther into my chair, sinking into the warmth of the sun through the window, needing to move but not knowing how or why. The sky out of the upper windows was a wind-swept blue, streaked here and there with wraith-like clouds. Blue, a deep blue. A tired blue, with a pupil in the middle that was...looking straight at me again.
With a start, I wrenched my gaze away. Twice in one day? Honestly, he was going to think I was a stalker. And I hardly even knew him! Cringing a little inside, I determinedly studied my plate, willing the green beans to stand up and dance or something, to entertain me.
But it wasn't doing any good. My shirt was too clingy, my shoes were too tight, my hair was too frumpy, and I just wanted to get out. Get out, alone and quiet.
The bell rang again, signaling the rush that made up the rest of my school hours. Thankfully, nothing else awkward happened during the final mods, and at long last I was free to escape home, or at least out of the school. But I didn't want walls now. Not more walls, with this lovely, brilliant weather that seemed so endless. Outside was where I wanted to be, out with the wind. Though it had thousands of voices, I didn't have to try to understand them. Usually.