Sitting on the cold, thin ice, I barely breathe his name after he's fallen into the water, feeling numb inside and out.
Naomi has begun walking toward where he fell in, fumbling around on the slippery surface. I suddenly snap into action. I dive over to the crying three-year-old, pick her up and drop back onto the snowy ground. "Stay here," I mumble.
I crawl over to the gaping hole in the ice, ripping my skin apart over the rigid ice as I go. I lean over the side, trying to see something. Anything.
Jack.
But I can't. He hasn't resurfaced either, so I'm terrified. I've heard that immortals can die in odd ways. Maybe drowning is one off them.
Then, without thinking, I dive into the water. How do I know I wasn't thinking? I don't know how to swim. I start falling through the water, sinking, just like a rock. I grope around desperately, hoping to grasp something. Anything.
Jack.
My lungs feel like they're about to burst. I've never been swimming, so I've never had to practice holding my breath. Odd colours dance behind my eyes. Tiny shards of ice are constantly grazing across my skin, and I can feel my blood seeping into the water around me, dragging me down; everything seems to be. Even my hair feels too heavy.
I open my eyes, hoping to catch sights of something. Anything.
Jack.
Haven't I thought that already? I think numbly.
My vision is blurry, I see nothing but swirling blue and white and purple. Dark spots start to dance in front of my eyes, and my mind becomes heavy and slow.
I'm really going to drown.
"Jack!" I feel my lips shout. The name comes out muffled, though. All the air leaves my body. Out of instinct, I inhale. Water rushes to fill the void in my lungs. I begin choking, my chest throbbing painfully, like my heart is broken. Like I'm about to die.
I'm about to die.
Jack?
I wake up on something soft, my breathing shallow. I try to turn, but it hurts to move. I breathe out shakily, opening my eyes to blearing pain. A small, strangled squeak escapes from somewhere inside of me. Something beside me moves. I panic, trying to move away to no avail and clenching my fists.
Then I realize that one of my hands can't make a fist, that I'm holding something. That it's cold, a good kind of cold.
Ignoring my screaming muscles, I wrench myself sideways, coming face to face with a sleeping Jack. He's possessively holding my hand close to him. His breath is soft and cold as it rushes over my skin, bringing a small smile to my face despite the situation.
The situation of nearly drowning, one of my biggest fears. The situation being scared out of my mind, for myself and for Jack. The situation of waking up later having no idea what's happened in bed with Jack.
Wait.
I'm in bed with Jack?
A thousand scenarios race through my mind at once, causing my head to throb. I force myself to calm down and think about things rationally.
My breathing becomes slightly quicker, and before I know it, Jack's hand is on my stomach, his fingers wiggling. My cheeks freeze up instantaneously and another small shriek floats past my lips, this one louder than the last.
Jack's eyes fly open, causing me to flinch, the brilliant blue orbs catching me off guard. He stares blankly at me for a second, and then his face breaks into a wide smile. "You're okay!" he exclaims, practically pouncing on me. He wraps me in a bone-crunching hug, still holding my hand. Then he kisses me-hard-on the mouth, sucking out what little air I had left in me.
I frantically gasp for air when he pulls away, but he doesn't seem to notice. He slides off of me, but then pulls me close to him and snuggles up to my side.
At this point, I'm completely freaking out. I'm in bed with my boyfriend who's pressing me against him! This is so unbelievable!
It's not like anything is gonna happen though, right? I mean, we're fourteen, and I almost just died.
Jack squeezes me a little tighter and kisses me softly on my jawline. "Oh, Ana," he breathes. "Don't ever scare me like that again." He opens his eyes as he says this, staring me down, as if daring me to do otherwise. I nod, dumbstruck by how much he cares.
Seemingly satisfied by my answer, he tries to hug me closer, but I put my hands on his chest and push him a small distance away. "Water," I croak.
Jack suddenly leaps into action. He pushes himself onto his elbow and says, "Water? You want water?" I nod, launching into a coughing fit as I do so. "Okay," he asserts to himself as he jumps off the bed, then runs out of the room, momentarily forgetting that he can teleport, I suppose.
I push myself into a sitting position, despite the opposition my muscles give me. My head clears slightly. I'm able to take deeper breaths, but my lungs burn.
I look around at my surroundings, and then it hits me:
This isn't my room.
My room is small and so is my bed, it could never fit two people. That should've been my first clue. This room though, this room is huge. Well, I guess it's not that big, but it's certainly bigger than any bedroom I've ever been in, even when I shared a room with six other girls. It's obviously the master bedroom.
For a moment, my slow mind figures that this must be Jack's room, but then I remember that I've been in his room and that this room is much too clean.
I realize that I've probably been unconscious for a long time, and start to yawn. At that moment, Jack materializes next to the bed with a glass of water and a small skin pouch, causing my eyes to go wide and my breath to shudder. I start coughing again. He awkwardly moves the water towards me. My hand shaking, I grab it from him and greedily down half the glass. I pause to catch my breath, but before I can bring the glass back to my lips, Jack puts a hand on my arm. "Slow down. You need the water to take this." He opens the pouch and a blue pill falls onto his hand. He gives it to me.
"What does it do?" my small voice mumbles through my chapped lips.
He puts his hands in his pockets. "It's an energy builder. It lasts for, like, eight hours, so you can go about your day, but you'll probably pass out when we get home. But when you wake up tomorrow, you should be fine."
"But," I pause, furrowing my brow. "But why do I need it?"
He shoots me a wide-eyed look. "You didn't forget, did you?" he asks hesitantly. I squint at him in question, having no idea what he's talking about. He continues, "Today's your first day."
Everything clicks into place. "You mean I have to work today?" I shriek, my voice hoarse. "It's Tuesday?" He nods slowly. "When do I have to be there?"
"An hour."
"What?" I scream, then cough. "Jack, I-"
"I know, I know. You feel like you can't do it. I get it. But after you take the pill, you'll feel fine, completely normal," he assures me, smiling weakly.
"Okay," I mumble, then slip the pill into my mouth and gulp it down. I wait a few seconds. Nothing happens. "I feel the same," I say to him, my voice back to normal. "Whoa!" I exclaim. I notice that my breathing is normal as well.
Jack laugh joyfully. "See? You'll be fine." He helps me out of the bed, and I find that most of my aches are gone as well.
"Wow, this thing works really effectively," I comment.
He laughs again. "Yeah, that's why the crash is so hard. Oh, and you can't eat anything either, so. . . ." I grumble at that, but say nothing. He leads me through halls of which I've never seen (I really need to find a map of this place or something) that eventually lead to my room. He opens the door for me. "Okay," he starts, like a man with a plan. "Get dressed, get your things and then meet me by the front door." And then he's gone.
I close the door, feeling totally normal. As if yesterday never even happened. Jack's not mad at me anymore either. Something must be said for almost dying and scaring the lights out of your boyfriend: it really works to stop an argument. Not that I'd recommend it.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm standing by the door, waiting for Jack. I donned myself in plain clothes (teachers never wear anything exciting) and put my hair up the same way that my old principal used to.
Five minutes pass. I roll my eyes. Where is he? He was already dressed. What's taking so long?
I move to turn around and open the door, tired of waiting, and I'm suddenly nose to nose with Jack, wedged between him and the door.
Completely caught by surprise, I say nothing and try to measure the space between us without glancing down. He continues to surprise me by whispering, "You smell good," his eyes half-lidded.
He leans forward, which shocks me out of my stupor. I sidle out of his grasp. "Yeah, well, I took a shower and I, uh, used soap, so . . . yeah."
Instead of making some snide comment on my lack of an intelligent response, he stares at me with wide eyes for several seconds, saying nothing. "What?" I snap.
He shrugs, looking away. "You just look like a schoolmaster is all." He tilts his head and grins wolfishly at me. "I like it."
I feel my face flush and my pulse quicken. "Thanks," I respond, not knowing what else to say.
He gets really close to me again. "The settings of my dreams will probably take place somewhere else now," he says, as if to himself, though I know that he wanted me to hear those words. However, his reason is lost on me.
"What?"
"Probably in a classroom," he quietly states, slipping his arms around my waist.
"I'm not following."
"On a desk," he whispers, his face inches from mine, his eyes dripping with hidden meaning.
"Jack, what are you talking about?"
He sighs. "You're so clueless sometimes."
Clueless? About what? He's the one randomly mentioning a classroom and what's inside it.
"Says you," I retort, wriggling in his arms, trying to free myself, feeling more awkward as the seconds pass with his iron grip on me. I fail. "We should go. I don't want to be late." He agrees, I blink, and when I open my eyes, we're at the edge of the forest by the schoolhouse.
"That was quick," I remark.
Jack releases my waist, grabs my hand and starts tugging me towards the schoolhouse. Shrugging, he replies, "I had some help."
Before I can ask him as to what that meant, the door to the schoolhouse slams open, my scowling boss standing in the doorway. "Dirone! You're late!"
Baffled, I look to my wrist for a watch, then remember that I don't own one, nor have I ever. "I'm not," I say, looking up at her again. "I'm a half an hour early, actually."
"Enough with the excuses! And don't back-sass me!" At that, she gestures for me to follow her inside. I climb up the steps begrudgingly with Jack at my heels. Once I'm through the door, she slams it shut, leaving Jack outside. I wait for him to materialize next to me.
He doesn't.
"What's wrong?" my Maridith sneers at me. "Can't handle yourself without your boyfriend?"
"No," I scoff, completely appalled. She's been so unnecessarily rude. Isn't this illegal? "I just figured it to be in appropriate to slam the door in a prince's face," I finish lamely.
She snorts. "I've seen him do some very un-princely things," she pauses to glare at me. "Done a couple of them to me, actually."
She keeps her eyes on me, waiting for me to flinch after her dropping of that bomb. Instead, I stare back levelly. "This is highly unprofessional. Can't you be less vulgar?"
It's her turn to look surprised. She mumbles something that sounds like, "of course," under her breath and turns away. After shuddering several times from disgust and shock at her last statement, I inwardly grin at my triumph.
However, my little moment ends once she turns to face me again, an even deeper scowl on her face. She shoves past me, leaving me no choice but to follow her from the office room we were in. We wind through the halls of the school, go up some stairs and hen stop abruptly in front of a red wooden door. It has no door knob, just a small pushed in print of a circle where one should be. I try pushing the door. It doesn't budge.
Maridith suddenly clears her throat. I glance up at her to find her looking at me expectantly. "Well?" she asks, glancing at the chain around my neck with my teacher's pass on it.
Oh.
I quickly press my pass into the indentation on the door. It instantly clicks open. Beyond the doorframe is a large classroom with a blackboard, a teacher's desk and about twenty student desks. She shoves me inside. Before I can protest, she drops a booklet into my arms. "You have six rotating classes. Two of them are first-year students, two are third-year students and you have one second-year class and one fourth-year class." She smirks. "Good luck." She then shuts me inside my own classroom.
I don't move from where I'm standing. Glancing down at the booklet, I see that my first class is a third-year class, which means that all of my students will be older than me.
And the nightmare continues.