The End

The T.V. is still on downstairs.

Even with my bedroom door cracked just wide enough for me to peek one eye through, I
can hear the same sportscasters voice droning on about whatever basketball game Chris has
been watching for the last two hours. I swear he must be deaf.
If youre gonna do this you better get with it, Adrian speaks up from behind me,
spiking my already frayed nerves up to the next level.
Shh, if you want to be here you have to keep it down or hell hear you, I whisper
without turning to look at him as I pull the handle up and push the door closed silently.
I turn to find Adrian unmoved from my computer chair where hes been lounging for the
last hour; one unlaced ankle high black boot resting on my desk as he swivels back and forth.
Im glad youre so calm about this, I cross my arms across my chest to show him Im
serious.
Hey, it was your idea, he says with a smirk, his ice blue eyes narrowing.
Feel free to leave at any time, I snap and again I wonder why I even wanted him here.
Or maybe Ill help. I turn toward him ready to say, ha ha, but he isnt smirking
anymore. A deep hungry look crosses his face and stays there as he stares into my eyes; it
silences me.
Sometimes he can be really creepy.
If this were my real life, I like to think Id have been smart enough to stay away from
him. What I tell myself now is that if Id been sane the first time I saw him; wisps of smoke
swirling around his face, eyes so blue they glowed white as he peered at me from within the
walls of his turned up collar, I wouldve listened to the rational part of my brain screaming at me,
Danger, leave this one alone! But after everything thats happened I think my conscious must
be damaged or something; it didnt even have the decency to warn me, I didnt even think twice.
But I would have, if I were the old me.
There was no fleeing from him in terror or walking away for self-preservations sake, I
dont even know if I feel either of those things anymore anyway. But I remember, looking back,
that the only thing thatd kept me on that barstool as Id tried to choke down my first beer was
pride; that innate female desire to play hard to get. I watched him watching me from across the
room, hyperaware of every move he made while trying to look bored. Hed had me wound
tighter than a guitar string while I waited for him to make a move. And I think he knew; I think
he was messing with me the whole time. If Adrian is anything hes aware. Aware of himself
and of how people react to him. I mean, to begin with hes gorgeous, and he knows it so that
doesnt hurt. Hes like a manga vampire, all mysterious and dangerous; but super sexy. And
second hes smart. He never misses a thing and he knows something about every topic in the
world. Now Ive seen it enough to know he plays all women like instruments.
It sounds dramatic, I know, but if you havent met him you just cant understand what he
can do. It was like a scene right out of a book; a dark stranger, drawing me to him without a
word and me becoming suddenly obsessed with him though Ive never met him. I want to
believe every girl in the room felt the same way, that they were all transfixed on him, waiting to
see what he was doing there, who he was waiting for, and what he would do next. Maybe they
were or maybe they werent, it hardly mattered after what happened next.
Now, I can see that I was acting like a crazy person. He couldve been a stalker, a rapist,
or even a serial killer; and that wouldnt have been exciting, just downright awful. But Id
needed the distraction, and a small part of me wondered if he had the answers I so desperately
needed, if he knew what was happening to me and why. Two things I also wouldnt have needed
if I were my real self.
But I wasnt. Im still not, and I never will be again. So it makes perfect sense for him to
be here now.
Being the first to break eye contact, like always, I turn and make my way back across my
room ignoring his offer to help, not at all sure he was kidding.
Ouch! Pain shoots up through my three smallest toes on my left foot and I hop across
the floor, trying not to fall or make any more noise. As I throw myself onto my bed, I look back
over my shoulder to see my backpack lying in the middle of the floor, the journal I kicked
hanging halfway out of the half opened zipper.
At the sight of the book, the memories flash hot and fresh across my mind, making me
forget my stubbed toes. Theyre not just of him, but of all Ive lost, including my innocence and
ability to love. Hot tears sting my eyes but I dont allow them to fall, Adrian doesnt like crying
so I dont do it in front of him.
The memories are too much for me to stay in control, and Anxietys fingers dig in until
she has a firm grip on my heart. Breaths come as wheezes and the room starts to spin so I close
my eyes.
No, please I whisper but no one listens.
She doesnt let go for an eternity as I listen to the seconds tick by, echoing from the
clock in the bathroom. I can hear my heartbeat in my head and it mixes with the ticking clock
and the drip drip drip of the rain, tapping out a dirge on my window thats only drown out by the
occasional roll of thunder.
Tick, bum-bum, drip. Tick, bum-bum, drip. Boom. Tick, bum-bum, drip.
Slowly, my heartbeat slows and Im able to suck in longer breaths. In through the nose,
out through the mouth. The pressure in my chest lessens little by little
Ah sweet Lainey, you really are such a beautiful mess, Adrian calls out with no real
concern in his voice. I dont say anything but let out a ragged breath and a small sob.
Better?
Yes, no thanks to you.
This isnt the first time hes seen me like this. As a matter of fact, Ive been a mess the
entire time hes known me. He takes it all in stride as I lie there engaging in my never ending
wrestling match; who I am vs. who I want to be.
I dont want to be used anymore, I say.
After tonight no one will ever hurt you again, Adrian says as blandly as if hes talking
about a homework assignment and not the turning point of multiple peoples lives, but even
though his words are flippant they soothe me because I know hes right. I want to be free more
than anything else in the whole worldwell almost anything.
Its almost time, whatre you gonna do about your problem downstairs?
Leave it to my stupid brother to pick tonight to camp-out downstairs. He does have a
T.V. in his own room, I say rolling back over and sitting up on the edge of the bed then
immediately regretting the sudden movement.
Theyre onto you, he says absently, still not turning to look at me. The back of his
chair continues to swivel back and forth, back and forth.
Hes right of course. Just before my mom left for work she told Chris to keep an eye on
me, which is code for, Make sure Lainey stays in her room. They know what tonight is as well
as I do.
Maybe hes asleep. Ill wait fifteen more minutes and then Im going to have to come
up with a plan B.
Yeah because its eleven fifteen now; you have less than an hour.
A new rumble of thunder shakes the window panes and I turn my head to watch the tree
shadows move across my curtains. Heavy rain drops splatter and streak across the glass, blurring
my vision so the only thing I see are the funneled rays from the streetlights in an otherwise
darkened void.
I shudder.
I couldnt have picked a better night, I say.
Its clich, Ill give you that, he says and turns the chair slowly, peering at me over his
hands as he wiggles his long fingers, fingernails painted black, in front of his face and continues
in a deep eerie voice, It was a dark and stormy night, the eve of her eighteenth birthday at the
stroke of midnight.
Youre so stupid, I say rolling my eyes, but feeling a little better. He just smiles.
Oh hey, dont forget the note.
I didnt, of course.
I crawl to the end of my bed and get up, pushing the cedar chest past the edge of my bed,
then plop down cross-legged on the floor. I pull my diary from a slit cut into the carpet and
open it to my last entry. After I rip out the note I wrote yesterday, I decide to write an entry for
today just for fun. I sit for a minute staring at the pristine page trying to think of the perfect thing
to say. In the end I keep it simple then carefully put the book back under the carpet, making sure
to match the grooves in the carpet with the bottom of the chest as I settle it back into place.
When and if anyone ever finds it theyll try to make sense of what really happened on this night,
but no one will ever know the truth.
Let me read it, Adrian says, opening his palm to me. I fold the paper in half and get up,
walking toward him, I hold it out like Im going to give it to him but just as I get to him I pull it
away and walk past him.
Youll just have to wait like everyone else.
The suspense will probably kill me, he says with his customary Adrian leer.
Putting the note under my laptop, I tiptoe back to the door but even before I open it I can
hear the T.V. If Im going to do this Ill just have to find a way that doesnt involve going
downstairs.
Why didnt I just stop by Circle K on the way home from school?
Wham!
I jump and slam the door.
Shoot! I whisper yell and then wait to see if I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Five
seconds pass, then ten, but I hear nothing and it makes me thankful that its Chris downstairs and
not Mom; theres no way shed let a slammed door go uninvestigated.
After a few more seconds pass, I turn around to see the window still vibrating from the
impact of whatever hit it so I walk over to look out again, but see only my blurry form reflecting
back to me in the water-streaked glass. I put my hand up to the glass and use the shadow to
squint past the light from my room. Through the rain I can see the ringed glow of the light
across the street from my house and I notice the line of cars parked beneath it.
Any car will do, Adrian says quietly from behind me.
If I cant get to my own car maybe I can use one of those.
Steal?
After tonight what would it matter anyway?
Youre right, I say and grab my bag from under my bed before I can lose my nerve,
wish me luck. I open the window and a strong gust of wind pushes against me, seeping
through my cotton pajamas.
Yeah, whatever.
Fighting against the wind to get past my curtains, I crawl out onto the small eave over
the dining room window. The rain continues to pour down, pelting my skin and soaking my tank
top and pajama pants within seconds as I try to get traction on the slick wood shingles. Its easy
to hook my fingers over the shingles edges but my covered knees begin to slide down the roof
making me look like a dog on ice. Just before my lower half is whisked right off the roof, I turn
onto my back, put the bag on my stomach, and hook my toes and fingertips over the lip of the
shingles so I can crab walk sideways across the roof.
Its slow going, but I finally get to the edge of the roof that hangs over the front porch. I
turn and back slowly off the house using the post of the porch for stability until my toes touch
down on the wood railing of the fence that encloses the wood deck.
Drenched but in one piece, I land on the ground and run hunched over past the front of
the house, making sure to keep outside the illuminated ring being cast from our porch light. I run
down the driveway and past the hedge that surrounds the front yard until Im standing on the
sidewalk in front of my house.
I look one way and then another. Three cars are parked by the hedge in front of Mr.
Crosbys house in a dark patch between street lights and I decide one of those will work just as
well as any others. Shielding my eyes from the rain, I jog across the street looking back over my
shoulder to make sure Chris didnt follow me.
So far so good.
I position myself between the hedge and the cars just in case someone drives by. Of the
three choices I have, one car is Mr. Crosbys BMW; I cant steal from Mr. Crosby, he always lets
me walk his Dachshund, Molly, for extra money. Even in the misty darkness I can see that
another of the cars is a clunker put together with mismatched parts and covered in scratched red
paint, whoever the owner is, he probably cant afford any extra expenses. That leaves me with
car number three, a small dark colored compact; itll have to do.
So far Ive been able to distance myself from what Im about to do because it was
nothing but talk and planning. This is zero hour. If I take this first step Ill have to commit to
the whole plan.
Im scared spitless.
But a new sensation burns in my chest; adrenaline is rushing from wherever its made
and flooding my brain. I crave it and also hate it. I havent felt this alive in a very long time.
How ironic.
The thoughts of being alive remind me of my old life and I think about him. Im only
seventeen years old but I cant imagine anything making me feel more alive than love. And I do
love him. But now hes gone.
No! I say to myself.
I cant afford to go there now.
I squat down between the hedge and the car and open my bag in front of me with one
hand while I push back my long rain slicked hair that is clinging to my face with the other. I
looked up how to do this on the internet so I hope I have everything I need. Maybe I shouldve
practiced first, but this isnt something I could just explain away as a hobby if my mom caught
me trying it on my car.
Okay Lainey, be brave. You can do this, I say taking a deep breath. I flip open the lid
to the gas tank and unscrew the cap. Biting fumes assault my nostrils and I begin to regret what
Im going to do next.
Digging in the bag I find the three foot piece of clear hose I bought at the hardware store
with last weeks paycheck. I slide the hose into the gas tank as far as it will go.
On the website itd said that this was the tricky part because if the gas gets in my mouth it
could cause sores or even kill me, but I dont hesitate to put the other end of the hose in my
mouth and suck until I see the amber liquid flow up out of the gas tank.
I pull my mouth away but not fast enough and the acrid gas fills my mouth. To say that it
burns is the understatement of the century. Not only does my tongue burst into flames instantly
but the fumes sting my nostrils and claw at the back of my throat. I turn and spew it out, gag,
and shudder three times. I used to think cherry cough medicine was bad but I have never put
anything in my mouth that hurt half as bad as this, not even the habanero pepper my Aunt Liz
tricked me into tasting when we visited her in Phoenix a few years ago.
I can barely breathe or think about anything but the pain, but I know I have to keep
moving. Gas is flowing freely from the tube and running down the sidewalk and only now do I
realize that I forgot to take the forty-four ounce Big Gulp cup Chris had left in the upstairs
bathroom from the bag. I rummage through the bag again with my free hand and pull out the cup
then fill it up halfway then lift the tube higher than the gas cap, removed it, and put everything
back the way I found it.
Standing back in the shadows of the trees in our front yard, as the rain continues to pour;
I cover the cup with my hand as I try to think of a way to get back into the house. In my
spontaneity, it hadnt dawned on me that I wouldnt be able to climb back up to the second story
window carrying a huge cup full of gas.
The living room light flips off.
Has Chris finally decided to go to bed? That would make one thing that has gone right
tonight so far.
I creep up onto the porch and try to peek through the crack between the closed blinds and
the wall, but its too dark to see inside. I dont know where Chris is but I have to get back in the
house somehow so I tuck the cup between my arm and stomach and reach up to get the spare key
out of the hanging planter where Mom keeps it.
After the door is unlocked and the key tucked safely back in its spot, I ease the front door
open just a crack and freeze. As I listen for sounds that my brother is still downstairs, I watch
the eerie shadows of trees dancing in the wind as they duck and sway across the wall of the
living room. A movement from the kitchen grabs my attention but when I turn I dont see Chris,
just more jerking shadows cast by the streetlights next to the backyard wall. Between the storm
and the darkness Im starting to freak out so I decide to take my chances with Chris and I sneak
into the house, locking the door behind me.
Chris must be in his room and he must not have checked mine because I make it safely
back to my room. I lock my bedroom door, then rush into the bathroom I share with him and
lock his door from the inside so he wont be able to barge in on me.
I turn and face myself in the mirror.
The girl I see doesnt look anything like the girl Im used to seeing here. She has color in
her cheeks and life in her eyes. She looks excited, not despondent or uninterested like the brat
Ive somehow turned into - no not somehow, I know how. But its too late now, too late to ever
become that girl again. I need to ride this high to the end, focus, and do what I came here to do.
I open the medicine cabinet and take out one of Moms unused insulin syringes that we
keep all over the house just in case her blood sugar drops. With the Styrofoam cup sitting on the
bathroom counter, I try to unwrap the syringe but my hands are shaking too hard so I rip the
package open with my teeth, sending a new pang of pain ripping through my already throbbing
teeth and gums, as the contents of the bag spill into the sink. I let out a whimper as I reach for
the syringe barrel and needle but I dont allow myself to let the pain distract me.
Putting the barrel and needle right in front of my eyes, trying to will my hands to be still,
I work to get the needle into the hub. After two tries the syringe is finally assembled and I stop
for a few seconds and just stand there staring at myself over the top of the needle. I can smell the
vapors from the gasoline wafting up from the cup, filling the bathroom, and I hope Chris wont
smell it before Im done.
Im scared, I whisper to my reflection.
Dont be scared, Laine. You can do this. You are so brave, Adrian says as he walks up
behind me.
I can be brave, I say to myself a little louder but still not above a whisper just in case
Chris is still awake.
Youre doing this for your mom. The pain for both of you ends tonight. Once youre
gone she can have a life again.
Shell be better off without me, I try to convince myself again but I wonder if this
wont just heap more pain up onto the mountain shes already trying to dig herself out of. A
picture flashes into my mind of Mom sitting on the couch hunched under a blanket. Shed sat
just like that for months after dad and Elle died, looking past me with her blank eyes that were
practically swollen shut from crying. She was so sad, I say.
It will be different this time. Shes stronger now. She could move past this if you would
just stop dragging her back down all the time.
Youre right, I say looking past my reflection into his reassuring eyes. My mom has a
support system, she has friends and all the people from that church. Maybe someday shell get
married again; maybe someday shell be happy. Not me though, Ill never move past all this, its
impossible.
Thats right, and if you stay here shell feel guilty every time she sees your miserable
face. Youre doing the right thing.
Now well both be free, I say with resolve. A few more seconds pass.
Its time, Adrian whispers to me, putting his hands on my shoulders.
I dip the end of the needle into the cup but my hands are shaking so hard that I hit the
syringe on the cups wall. It tips, first one way and then the other, splashing gas onto the floor. I
reach out and just catch it with my other hand before it tumbles to the ground.
I cant do this!
Yes you can, you just need to calm down.
Easy for you to say.
Try again, Adrian prompts me.
I drop cross-legged onto the linoleum floor and set the cup in front of me. Using two
hands I balance one elbow on my thigh and use that hand to hold the syringe as I dip it into the
gas, then use my other hand to pull back the plunger.
I let out the breath Ive been holding and stare at the filled syringe in my hand.
Who will find me? Mom? Chris? Whatll happen at school tomorrow? Will they arrest
Justin right away, or will he get off because Im the crazy one?
No! Enough thinking! I plunge the needle into my arm and push my thumb up to
meet my fingers before fear can paralyze me.
I can feel the burning instantly. It starts at the injection sight and spreads fast. Down and
up my arm, into my fingers, across my chest. I guess I thought I would just magically pass out
and then drift off into oblivion. Only now do I realize that this is going to be a horrible way to
die.
I dont like pain.
I dont really want to die at all!
Why did I do this? I yell dropping the syringe and recoiling from it. I turn onto all
fours and scramble across the floor, knocking the cup over with my foot. I have to get help
now! My arm feels like its engulfed in flames and it buckles under my weight. I get to the
open door between the bathroom and my bedroom and use the doorknob to pull myself
awkwardly to my feet. The fire has already spread up to my neck and I can feel it crawling
toward my other arm.
My cell phone is on the nightstand by my bed, if I can just get to it.
I stumble out of the bathroom, tripping over the seam between the linoleum and the
carpet but manage to keep my feet under me. I take three steps into my room. Now my whole
body burns like Im in an oven as it heats up to a higher and higher temperature.
What are you going to do now, Laine? Adrian asks me. He says my name funny,
almost like hes mocking me. I turn to look at him. Hes leaning against the doorjamb, arms
folded across his chest, one foot crossed over the other.
Please, help me, I whimpered to him.
Now why would I want to do that?
I dont want to die!
I know, he says tsk-ing me like a child, Poor pathetic little Lainey, you never know
what you want so you just do whatever anyone tells you, trusting that they must know whats
best for you. Ill let you in on a little secret, he puts his hand up to his mouth and leans toward
me, most people couldnt care less about whats best for you.
The room begins to spin and I cant focus on Adrians face. I turn from him and lunge
toward my cell phone but my legs have gone numb beneath me and refuse to move. In the
seconds Im flying through the air I realize that even if I call 911 theyll never get to me in time.
My heart has pumped the gas through my entire body. Soon it will loop back around to my heart
or maybe up to my brain; either way I wont be surviving this.
Still, I have to try.
I reach out and just as my hand smacks into the top of my nightstand I force my fingers to
close around my phone. A sharp pain stabs me in the temple and before I can figure out what
caused it my cheek smacks into the floor, bounces once and lands, jarring my already throbbing
head. I use all my strength to pull my hand up in front of my face but the numbers on the keys of
the phone are swirling around and I cant tell one from another. I push some and hear the beeps
but have no idea what I dialed.
I hear pounding from somewhere behind me.
Chris! I try to scream but I dont even know if I forced out a whisper. I strain to pull
my burning arms up under my body but they will no longer listen to me either. I lay there,
paralyzed with my cheek pressed into the plush brown carpet, and realize that the last thing Im
ever going to see are the dust bunnies under my bed.
But Im wrong. A foot appears in front of my face, an ankle length unlaced black boot.
Please, I whisper.
I hear a soft chuckle and then nothing.

Lainey
1. Entangled
One Year Earlier
Bet you wont walk on top of the wall, says a dark-skinned young boy Ive
never seen before. Hes shirtless and his long black hairs been pulled into a braid that runs
down the middle of his back.
Bet I will, I say. I hitch up my floor length cranberry colored dress, tucking the ends of
it into the skin tight light tan riding pants I have on underneath, and take off my ankle length
black boots. The wall is tall, as tall as a two story house, but I cant back down or Ill look
scared. I put my hands into the thin grooves between the large bricks that make up the wall and
curl my fingertips over the exposed sharp edges.
Dont listen to him, you dont have to prove anything to us, a pretty girl says, but I
know shes lying. I have to prove myself every day. Not because Im in danger but because I
dont want anyone to say I dont belong. I want them to think Im strong and brave.
With my somewhat secured hands up above my head, I heft myself up and find lower
grooves with my bare toes so Im clinging to the wall like an ungraceful Spider-Man.
Youll never make it, its too tall, says another shirtless boy with the same long black
hair, but his is flowing free around his face, all youre going to do is hurt yourself.
But hes wrong, Im not going to hurt myself, Im going to show them I can do this.
I start to climb, moving one shaky arm and leg at a time, and I can tell Im making
progress when the other kids start cheering from far below.
Im actually doing it!
But then, when I get about halfway up the wall, I make the mistake of looking down to
see how far Ive come. The distance from where I am to the ground, plus the fact that Im only
hanging by my fingers and toes sends a wave of dizzying fear through me so that when I go to
find my next handhold I miss and my hand slips and flies out behind me. Instead of stilling
myself and pulling my hand back in I start to flail in panic and before I can recover my feet slip
out from under me. I let out an ear rupturing scream as my body freefalls for a few seconds then
stops with a jerk. I feel the pain in my fingers but fight to keep them still as I look up to confirm
what I already know; Im now clinging to the wall by just four fingertips. And If I fall from here
Ill probably be hurt beyond healing, if I dont die.
No! One of the girls on the ground screams.
Above me I hear a sharp chink and look past my hand where two metal claws are now
gripping the top of the wall. Then, like some kind of superhero, someone flies over the wall and
a few seconds later a long piece of rope cascades past me, a piece of it coming to rest on the wall
next to me. I try to reach for it with my free hand, but its too far away and Im afraid to move
too much.
Help me please, I cry out to him.
My cramped fingers slip and then Im falling. I can only see open sky above me, only
hear the air rushing in my ears, as my stomach lurches from the plummet. Then a hand closes
around my waist and my body is wrenched to a stop. Pain shoots through my lower back and left
side, but I know its nowhere near as bad as splatting to my death on the forest floor below.
Ive got you, a voice says, so close to my ear I can feel his breath. Instinctively I wrap
my arms around my saviors neck as I turn to look at him.
Oh gods! I yell out in surprise, instinctively trying to move away from him without
thinking.
Hey whoa, relax, he says and all it takes is one glance down for me to obey. I know I
recognize him and I know that seeing him here is a big deal, though I dont remember who he is.
He looks maybe twelve years old, no older than fourteen, with the same bronze skin and black
hair as the people in the crowd below. Whoever he is hes really cute.
Cradling me with one hand, the boy starts to slowly lower us down the side of the wall
with the other as I watch him from the corner of my half closed eyes. I should say something,
but when I go to open my mouth I cant. I try again but nothing happens and when I try to put
my hand up to my mouth I cant move it either, as a matter of fact I cant make myself move at
all. But I am moving, I watch as my hand clenches and unclenches where its lying against my
stomach, and I can feel my head turning as I look to the wall, then to the ground, then back at the
boy; so I know Im not injured or in shock but for some reason I cant control my body.
Isnt that I hear someone say from behind me.
It cant be. Dont they have to keep him locked up if his freaky little sisters not
around? a boy says.
Sena is not a freak, another boy says defensively.
What if he hurts her? The same girl asks.
Whoever these people are, they all seem recognize this boy too, and theyre really
worried about me being this close to him. But from here, in his arms, where Im so close to his
face Im almost touching it with my cheek, so close that his long hair thats pulled into a messy
knot at his neck is tickling my arm as I cling to him. I can fell the warmth of his skin where its
touching mine and I can smell him, fresh like the forest and warm like sunlight. He doesnt look
too dangerous to me. And he did just save my life. If he hadnt fallen from the sky like an angel
Id be splattered on the ground right now.
Hey, put her down, a boy calls up to my mystery savior and I want to say please dont
but cant.
Where did he come from? And how did he move so fast? How did he get to me? He
turns his head to me and for the briefest of seconds we make eye contact. I watch his bright blue
eyes widen as my heart starts to beat in double time. He opens his mouth as if to speak then
closes it quickly and turns to look over his other shoulder back down at the ground beneath us. I
cant describe it, but something passes between us, like recognition but even more. I should say
something; thank him, or introduce myself, or something. But I cant.
His feet hit the ground with a small jolt and he lowers my legs to the ground, then lets
go and steps away from me, putting a cold emptiness between us in comparison.
Are you alright? he asks me in a quiet gentle voice.
I think so, I whisper to him, but I didnt choose to say it or have any control over the
words. And thats when it hits me; Im in someone elses body. A passenger that can feel what
shes feeling and watch what shes doing but has no control over what happens. All I can do is
watch as the scene plays out through my eyes, that are her eyes, but no matter how I try I cant
insert my own will.
Thank the gods! the pretty girl wails, running up and throwing her arms around me.
Are you hurt?
No, I dont think so. He saved me I say looking for the boy but hes nowhere to be
seen.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
My body jerks spastically, like when I dream Im falling and snap awake just before I hit
the ground, and I open my eyes to find that Im no longer hanging from a wall in the arms of
a strange boy, though my hearts still hammering from when I was. Now Im cocooned in
something soft, but its too dark inside to see what it is. Panicked, I try to move and, though
its a relief to discover that I now have control over my body again, the sudden change in
scenery has me disoriented and it takes me a second to realize that Im lying down with my
arms pinned firmly at my sides. Thrashing and flailing like a worm, I roll until my bindings
loosen then push out into the open air to find Im double wrapped like a burrito in the hot
pink sheet of my bed.
Im home.
And I remember going to bed just as well as I remember climbing the wall, and each felt
as real as being here now.
I push the sheet away angrily, like this was somehow its fault, and sit up resting my
elbows on my knees and my head in my hands as I try to catch my breath and think.
What was that place? I pant, pushing my wild hair back from my face as I look around
my cluttered room, still decorated in the fuchsia Gerber daisies Elle picked out when she was
four.
It takes me a few seconds to snap out of dream mode, to transition from where I just was
to where I am now. But then it comes back. This is my real life, here with Chris and Mom.
I go to school and work. I know people, remember things about what Ive done; and here,
unlike wherever I just was, I have a past I remember and a present I can actively participate
in; though I wish I could forget most of both.
That city had almost looked like a medieval fortress, not a suburb of Chicago, and Ive
never been anywhere like that; the farthest Ive ever been from home is Disney World, so it
couldnt have been a memory or a dream about a place Ive been. And there, I hadnt
recognized any of the people, at least this me hadnt. Whoevers body I was supposed to be
in probably knew where she was and what was going on but I didnt seem to be able to
access her brain. To me, itd felt more like I was watching a movie from the first person
viewpoint than actually living that life, A 3D IMAX movie in surround sound.
How is this possible? I ask out loud, thinking about the beautiful bronze skinned boy
with the Caribbean blue eyes. Could I have known him once? Would I remember? I think
so
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The alarm clock/radio sitting on my bedside table goes off again and I look over at it.
6:15!
Omigosh! How many times did I sleep through the alarm?
In one fluid motion I stand and spring from my bed like a relay racer, putting all thoughts
of my dream aside for now. I rip off my shirt when my feet hit the floor and hop across my
room, first on one foot then the other as I strip off my pajama pants, leaving them where they
land on the floor as I make my way to the bathroom. With my ample hair piled high on my head
and secured with three claw clips, I barely get wet in my five minute shower and when Im done
I shrug on a clean blue t-shirt that sticks to my damp skin, then pull on a pair of jeans.
The doorbell rings.
Shoot!
I free my hair and pull a brush through it once, then shoot across the room, diving to the
floor so I can pull my once upon a time white canvas shoes from under my bed. My alarm goes
off again and I smack the sleep button as I launch myself up onto the bed and slip my shoes on
halfway.
Lainey, Josies here! Mom calls up the stairs.
I know, Im coming! I yell back. Backpack in hand, I race down the stairs to where
my mom is standing by the open front door, Josie talking with her from the doorway.
Lainey! Hi, I was just telling your mom how Pete and Jared are thinking about renting a
limo for prom. She thinks that will be so much fun! At the mention of prom my stomach
tenses but I ignore it.
Omigosh! That would be awesome, I squeal stupidly at Josie.
I turn to kiss my mom on the cheek but when I see the daggers shooting from her eyes I
duck out the door, making sure to stay out of her arms reach.
Love you mom, see you tonight, I yell over my shoulder.
Yes. Tonight, Mom says and its more of a threat than a goodbye. Oh and dont
forget you have an appointment with Dr. Jill at 3:30.
Dr. Jill, my moms latest attempt to untwist the vines of my troubled mind. This should
be fun.
Oh, yeah, right. I say innocently as I bounce down the steps from the porch to the
driveway.
Lainey, she yells from the front door and I turn to look at her, try to be nice. I just
give her my sweetest fake smile then turn back to see that Josies expression matches mine
almost exactly. The plays the thing, as William Shakespeare so aptly put it.
Josie keeps smiling as we climb into my light yellow VW Beetle, but once were inside
the words that come out of her mouth dont match the look plastered on her face.
Nice outfit, she sneers as we pulled out of the driveway, let me guess, youve been
awake for all of about fifteen minutes? Im gonna give you a tip, and this is for free, if you ever
plan on getting a boyfriend youre going to have to put a little effort into making yourself look
nice.
I glare but kept my eyes on the road, And Im gonna give you a little tip, get over
yourself. By the way, I hadnt told my mom about prom yet, so thanks.
She gives a maniacal little giggle, making a sound I didnt think could come out of a
human; let alone a pretty girl.
Its not my fault if you cant keep your part of the story straight. I just do what Im
told.
Well, actually, I say in my best valley girl accent, that wasnt in the script yet. I never
told you about me and Pete. Josie looks ready to protest but I keep talking before she can say
anything, my voice turning acrid now, Im paying you by keeping my mouth shut. That means
this is a job and Im your boss, so stick to the script I give you as I give it to you. Got it?
I swear Lainey, Im gonna tell Mrs. Ulman what youre doing. This has to be,
likeextortion, or something. Im not gonna let you blackmail me.
Yes you are because if you werent you wouldve done something about it already. You
dont want everyone knowing your dirty little secret and you like having a ride to school three
days a week.
She giggles again in the same weird way and this time follows it by a series of clicks.
Why are you laughing? I ask her angrily.
I didnt laugh, and I could get a ride with anyone.
True, but then someone else might find out that you dont walk to school the other two
days for the exercise, I snap at her with gratification. This is a different version of the same
conversation weve been having for three days a week ever since I found out about, and decided
to cash in on Josies misfortune.
Im a teachers assistant in the school office and, therefore, have access to all the student
files. Ive also learned to make good use of the time Mrs. Mathews spends out of the office. As
soon as shes gone I pick a folder in the filing cabinet where infraction records are kept and read
all the dirt. I know whos going to be in detention or about to be suspended and why. Mostly I
retain the info for leverage if anyone decides to pick on me, but there are special cases.
As it turns out, Josie Unger; captain of the volleyball team, and voted most likely high
school student to become a professional athlete, according to last years yearbook, also spends
her Friday afternoons cleaning the shoulder of Highway 90. Underage drinking and driving
penalties in Indiana include up to sixty days in jail, a five hundred dollar fine, and a permanent
place on the offenders record. But apparently the charges can be reduced to six months of
community service if your daddy just happens to donate enough money to the city to completely
renovate City Hall, four days after the offense.
Ive really hated Josie since the sixth grade when she ran out of the gym swinging my
pushup bra over her head. And the feelings mutual, so I knew shed be the perfect one to
torment with this arrangement; I dont tell everyone at school about her little problem, and she
pretends were best friends in front of my mom. Its cruel and a little sadistic but it keeps me
from being nagged 24/7 about why I dont have any friends. Its true, I could just try harder to
make real friends with people I actually like, but this is more fun and less invasive.
You are such a jerk, Josie says, knowing I have her trapped. For the rest of the drive
she sits with her arms crossed pouting as she looks out the window, I guess in an attempt to make
me feel bad but Im happy for the quiet.
Prom. Great. Im never going to hear the end of this.
I stop the car at the appointed street corner, one where no one from the school can see us
together, and sit, purposely keeping my eyes on the road until she opens the door. As soon as
she does, I rev the engine. The door slams, and only then do I cast a glance in her direction,
because no matter how much I want to, I dont need the trouble that would go along with
breaking both her feet if I run them over. Seeing Josie safely on the sidewalk, straightening her
cute little dress with a look of disgust on her face, she flips her hair long blonde hair out of her
eyes, then slings her designer backpack over her shoulder and turns to strut down the sidewalk in
her two inch high wedge heeled sandals.
Shell be lucky if she makes it to school by lunch, I mutter, putting my foot to the floor.
The tires of my Beetle spin out as I turn the corner, flinging gravel and dust up behind me,
maybe a piece will fly into one of her big blue eyes and blind her.
As I pull into the school parking lot a rush of anxiety pours into my chest then solidifies
there, just like it does every morning; and Im both thankful that this week is almost over, and
also filled with dread to face another day of the torture they commonly refer to as school.
At least the Josie charade is over for another week.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the seat and take a minute to prepare myself for
another day of pretending Im normal, of walking the halls of someplace I dont belong with
people who dont understand me. How could they? I dont even understand me.
Daddy, I miss you so much, I say out loud as I look at the office door and remember
walking through it that day, remember the look on Aunt Lizs face.
What are you doing here? Id asked, excited at first by her surprise visit. But then Id
seen the tears in her eyes and known something was very wrong. She wouldnt tell us what was
going on as she ushered Chris and I across this very parking lot to her car and drove us home in a
silence broken only by her sniffling. When Id walked into the living room to see my mom
sitting on our couch with a tear stained face and red swollen eyes, my hearts greatest fear had
been confirmed, someone in my family had died. But never in my worst nightmares would I
have guessed they both had.
Elle wouldve been ten by now. She would be starting to get into boys and hair and
clothes. We couldve done so may fun things together.
But instead shes dead.
And Im
whatever I am.
I feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill out.
No! I yell at myself, slamming my palms against the steering wheel. You are not
going to do this right now!
I drag the back of my hand across my eyes before anyone can see me and begin to take
deep cleansing breaths; in through my nose, out through my mouth. I clear my mind of all
thoughts and focus on a bright light I can see in my mind.
My core is at peace, I say, I am at rest in a world of chaos. My emotions cannot
control me if I dont let them and what other people do does not determine who I am. Its a
mantra Ms. Brauer taught us in psych class. Its supposed to help when I feel out of sync with
the universe. Im not sure it gives me inner peace, but it does help me keep it together.
I begin to feel a little better, here in the quiet of my car but I know that as soon as I open
the car door and step into that world of chaos all bets are off. I open my eyes. People are
starting to clear the parking lot and that means first bell will ring any second.
Here I go again.
I open the door and the chatter of high school girls instantly assaults me. A cluster of
them pass by my car and I hear them mention something about crazy hair and one of them says
the word freak. As they get closer I glare in their general direction so they know I heard them,
and they go instantly silent. How nice, at least the little gossips have the courtesy to shut up after
theyve been caught.
You try so hard to fit in and she has the nerve to show up like that, I hear a guys voice
say but I dont see him in the little group.
Weird.
For a moment I consider retreating to the bubble of my car and driving home before I
scream out loud. But then I think of my mom, and how important it is for her to know that Im
okay.
The bell rings.
Slowly I get out of the car, dragging my backpack across the seat behind me and when
Im out I hoist it onto my shoulders. Im about halfway across the courtyard when the second
bell rings.
Late again. Perfect.
I jog toward the C building as the first chords of the school song screech out over the
sound system, indicating that morning announcements have started. The song ends just as I enter
homeroom, or as I like to call it; the portal to Hell. Mr. Simmons is busy doing something at his
desk so he doesnt look up when I walk in. Good, at least I wont be getting another tardy.
Quickly I assess my seating options. There are two seats near the door in the back row but Im
not about to sit there.
Good Morning students, Principal Ulmans falsely perky voice crackles from the
speaker in the ceiling. I slip into an open seat in the second row by the window as
inconspicuously as I can. Graduation announcements will be available to pick up next
Wednesday, so be sure to get your money in no later than Monday. Im still too close to the
back row, where Justin and his group of jerks are trying to spit pieces of paper into each others
mouths. I can only hope hell remain distracted and ignore me completely.
As the announcements drone on, I slip my book from my backpack, hoping to transport
myself away from this place and stay there as long as possible.

Becca heard a noise from downstairs.
Everyone froze.
It cant be, her mom gasped.
Hello? A voice drifted up to them from the first floor.
Everyone get to the attic, now! Beccas dad hissed with urgency.
Shed never seen one before. Could there really be one in her house? An
incarnate, a real human; here after all this time?
Becca! Now! Her father whispered in a panic. Becca followed her family
but it took all her willpower to not slip down and take a peek at the incarnate who
had invaded their home.

Braineeey Lai-neeeey! A low taunting voice drifts to me from the back of the room,
ripping me from Beccas world and reminding me Im still in mine. Whatcha reading?
Oh no.
Why does he always have to hone in on me?
I sit stone-still, hoping hell think I didnt hear him and move on to bother someone else;
but the words on the page in front of me have turned to nonsense and the burn of embarrassment
and dread is already pounding in my head, flaring up like fire on my cheeks.
Thwap! Something hits me in the back of the head and I jump then go immediately still
again, knowing he saw me react and will never give up if he thinks Im ignoring him. I wait for
the inevitable, staring straight ahead and just praying that something will distract him.
You cant ignore me freak, he whispers, so close to my ear that I feel his breath move
my hair. Chills prickle up my spine but this time I force myself not to jump. Its my own fault
really for sitting in front of an empty seat, he mustve slipped into it when Mr. Simmons wasnt
looking.
Freeeeak, One of his little followers hisses creepily from behind him.
What are we reading today? He asks, standing up and ripping my book from my hand.
Entangled. Oooo, sounds juicy, he says louder now so the people closest to us can hear him.
He perches on the arm rest of the seat next to me where a girl named Rachel scoots away from
his butt without saying anything as he closes my book, losing my place, and flips to the back
cover.
Oliver, a troubled teen, steals a car and is chased by police into an old abandoned
plantation house. He soon finds that the house is not abandoned after all, but is the home to
Becca and her family; all ghosts who have been cursed to haunt the home where they were
murdered, until they are avenged. Oliver and Becca become friends and find that they are not so
different from one another. They fall in love and Oliver decides to help the Emerson family find
peace, but their killer is not ready to come clean and decides to get rid of Oliver as well. Will
love conquer death, or will Oliver join his love in her curse? Aww, sweet. What do you think
guys, will Oliver and Beccas love conquer all? Justin calls out in a mocking voice. Anyone
within earshot whos paying any attention to him laughs and his two henchman, Ben and Adam
make rude comments.
Cmon Justin, just give it back. I say, trying to sound indifferent as I hold out my hand.
Mr. Simmons still hasnt looked up from whatever hes doing at his desk.
You know, Lainey, if you need a little more romance in your life I can show you what
its like to be with a real man, he says smiling out of the side of his mouth.
Thats it!
Oh really? You know one then? I ask him and this elicits another round of catcalls,
this time directed at Justin.
She cant talk to you like that! A voice, that sounds too close to me to be one of
Justins minions, rasps and I look back to see who said it but both Ben and Adam look as blank
as always. Justin slams my book down on my desk and though fear shoots through my veins I
smirk at him defiantly. Ive learned not to let him know how much his innuendos and threats
really bother me, which is not nearly as much as his smug face.
You think youre pretty cute, huh? You better hope I never...
Quiet down class, Mr. Simmons drawls, finally deciding to step in now that the
announcements have ended. Im still watching Justin, knowing he will need to make the last
strike. He stands and turns to walk back to his seat, but just as he passes by my desk he lunges at
me. I flinch and he starts to laugh.
I so hate him!
His followers laugh again too and Justin, confident he has now restored his manhood by
threatening a girl, walks away.
Why do the people here give him so much power?
Unable to hear Mr. Simmons latest failed attempt to make us care about dangling
participles over the stampeding elephants in my head, I settle back into my plastic chair and try
to calm down, taking some comfort in the fact that Justin wont try anything else, not in the
middle of class anyway.
I pretend to take notes, but I cant concentrate.
Justin. Just the thought of him makes me want to scream! I hate him even more than
Josie; with his pea-sized little head, pointy hawkish nose, and elf-like ears. He isnt even that
cute. And theres something more disturbing about him than the other popular people. I mean
hes just as rude and entitled, but he also has a deeper evil in his eyes; like youd expect in a
psychopath. An empty blackness. I feel like he really wants to hurt me and would if given the
chance.
Maybe if I were popular like Chris hed leave me alone. Maybe if I was in the in
crowd, a cheerleader to his football player, like Josie; pretty and popular and able to function in
society, hed be more apt to ask me out than threaten me; hed want me in another way that has
nothing to do with murdering me. Not that Id want to date Justin but, much like with the mob,
being with him would give me a certain level of protection. And its clear that Josie doesnt
have to think about her place in school hierarchy, I really doubt she thinks much about anything,
but she seems to be immune to his taunting. If I could make myself a mindless drone like her I
would blend in and live free from fear of them.
But I cant and I dont.
Im not pretty, or mindless, or safe. And Im not even unremarkable, with my crazy thick
red hair and caustic personality; Im a target. I was never going to have a normal high school
experience and when I grow up I wont have a loving husband and three children with a dog out
in our white picket fenced yard. Ill probably die alone with my twenty cats to hide the smell of
my rotting corpse.
Because Im damaged, and you dont bounce back from things like this.
And Justin knows it. Its like he can smell it. So he picks on me like Im the runt of the
litter or a wounded pack member.
I seethe about Justin until the bell rings. Thankfully he doesnt launch another assault,
but by the time class is over, my neck and back are numb from sitting stone-still in the hopes that
he wouldnt notice me again. Slowly and stiffly I pick up my backpack and take an unwarranted
amount of time putting my books back inside. It pays off because by the time I stand up Justin
and his troupe of travelling idiots are gone.
Now its on to the next boring class, Advanced Algebra; but at least I dont have any other
classes with Justin. Thats the best thing about being a brain; most of my classes are AP, so
theyre mostly full of nerds. And thats justice for you, I mean without smart people where
would society be? How is it right that the beautiful people rule the world while my people build
it? Anyway, in all my other classes, P.E. excluded, no one picks on me; I even like a few of the
people. Like Pete.
Hey, Pete, I say as I walk up the row of desks behind him. Hes hunched over writing
in a notebook, but looks up at me, pushing his glasses up his pointed nose, when I sit down at
the desk next to his.
Oh, hey Lainey, he says, smiling at me with his mouth full of metal.
Josie told my mom about prom today. Do you have any idea how she knew?
Petes ultra-pale skin flushes a dark pink that doesnt look very good under his short
orange hair, I might have told Ben, he says with a guilty half grin.
Aww, Pete! Why would you do that? You must have known hed tell the whole
school.
I think he was hoping for that, Hannah, the closest thing I have to a best friend, calls
out as she walks up and sits on my other side. Ben was making fun of him, saying there was
no way hed get a date to prom. So Mr. Cool here blurted out that hed already asked you,
and you said yes, Hannah says with a smirk as she twists her waist length hair into a bun
and shoves two pencils through either side so it stays up on the back of her head.
But were not even really going to prom, I whisper to Pete.
I know, but I figured since thats what were telling our parents it wouldnt hurt to tell
other people too.
Yeah, except when Ben and Justin dont see us there, theyll just make fun of you even
more, I tell him, more than a little upset that now the whole schools going to know.
Petes cheeks go from pink to scarlet and he doesnt say anything else, he just hunches
even lower over his homework and starts to write again.
At least you have a fake date to prom, I dont even have that, Hannah says wistfully
from my other side.
If you could go with anyone, who would it be? I ask her in an attempt to cool down
and let Pete off the hook.
Whats done is done.
This time Hannahs cheeks flush pink and she turns away from me, and takes her sweet
time unloading the one book and notebook we use in this class.
What? I ask at a complete loss as to why shed react this way to such a normal
question.
I dont believe in prom, she says without turning her head.
Not believing in prom doesnt make you blush like that. Just tell me, I wont say
anything.
Duh Lainey, geez and they say Im oblivious to whats going on around me, Pete
chimes in and Hannah turns to glare at him.
Clearly Im the only one who doesnt know wha
Chris, okay? I would go with Chris, Hannah whispers angrily and then looks around to
make sure no one heard her.
Chris? I blurt out, unable to stop myself from laughing.
Shhhh!
Sorry, I say lowering my voice, Im just in shock.
Hes gorgeous, plus I figure since hes related to you he cant be as big a jerk as all the
other basketball players. At least, hes never been mean to me to my face before, Hannah
continues matter-of-factly.
No, Chris is a good guy, I say, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice, Hes
not like Ben at all, and hes definitely nothing like Justin.
Actually, I dont ever classify my little brother with the guys he hangs out with; its hard
to tell that theyre even from the same planet. Chris has always taken care of me. He held
our family together after the accident. Justin could never be that selfless. Plus Chris is a true
leader. As captain of the basketball team he always puts the needs of the team above his
own. The other guys on the team just blindly follow Justins lead until Chris is around, then
its clear who they all have real respect for.
Has he asked anyone yet? Hannah asks with feigned indifference as she opens the
math book shes finally put on her desk.
No, not yet.
Oh.
Gorgeous, huh? Yeah I guess he is pretty cute, I say, still thinking about Chris and his
friends. Pete makes a gagging noise and I laugh even more, but Hannah turns her face away
from us and pretends to read. At that moment Mr. Albert comes in and walks straight to the
whiteboard, where he begins to solve for an equation already written there, saving Hannah
from any further embarrassment.
After Algebra, I say goodbye to Pete and Hannah and head off to the gym.
One more class before lunch.
P.E.
Ugh.
Just another chance for me to demonstrate my clear lack of hand-eye coordination.
Whoever invented badminton should be shot.


2. Avoid Physical Contact
When I walk through the doors to the gym I freeze like a deer caught in the headlights.
The room isnt full of a bunch of screaming senior girls playing badminton in matching
purple shirts with silver mustangs on them and too long purple cotton shorts. Instead, Im
greeted by the curious stares of one hundred and twenty-seven pairs of eyes, give or take, and
they dont all belong to girls. The boys class has joined ours, and everyone is sitting on the
metal bleachers that cover one wall of the gym. By the way a hush fell over the room when
the door opened I can tell that no one knows why were here, theyre expecting someone to
come in and tell them whats going on, and thankfully Im not that person.
As soon as they see its just me, they go back to talking quietly and I put my head down
and book it to the back of the room, opting to stand rather than draw attention to myself by
trying to clomp across the bleachers to find a seat. I wait until everyone forgets Im there,
the burning in my cheeks slowly fading as my heart calms. I hate being the center of any
attention, but most Ive had at school has been negative so it makes me doubly anxious.
After a minute I risk lifting my head to look around the room. From where I am I can see
Chris in the front row laughing with Justin, Ben, and some other of his other friends. Across
the empty basketball court a lone microphone is in a stand on the foul line and I cant help
but feel the same restless curiosity as everyone else. Usually they announce assemblies or
someone finds out and passes the word around, but I never heard a thing, and the bits of
conversations Im picking up from people near me confirm that everyones as clueless as I
am.
I slide down the wall and sit cross-legged on the floor, pulling out a notebook and pencil
from my backpack. Last year I had an art class and I found that drawing not only calms me,
but helps me focus. Im not great but Im not horrible either. I start to sketch an angular
more rounded face with a strong chin. Then add the large slightly slanted eyes with long
thick eyelashes. I cant get his nose right, but after adding his hair I can see the resemblance
to the boy from my dream, and a pang of embarrassment mixed with satisfaction fills me at
the sight of him.
He looks young, maybe around twelve or thirteen, and though I still have no idea who he
is Im glad to know the feelings I have toward him arent mine because that would be plain
gross and Id need counselling for a whole new issue. Still, I cant help but be grateful to
him for saving my life uh her life, or whatever. No matter what was going on with me, it
was brave of him to scale a wall to save a strangers life.
Just as I finish my sketch theres a commotion in the back of the gym and I look up to see
Principal Ulman walking through the locker room door followed by Coach Johnson, and
Mrs. Brown, the school nurse. A new ripple of confused chatter fills the room as the three
walk to the foul line and stand side by side behind the microphone. Principal Ulman clears
her throat into the microphone and it echoes in the sudden and uncharacteristic silence of the
cavernous room.
Students, she says and pauses, today you will not have your normal Physical
Education class. Mrs. Brown suggested, and I agree, that, with the Armithan Infections
recent spread to the U.S., you should be taught some basic techniques for avoiding the
infection and slowing its spread. Mrs. Brown?
Ah man, thats it? With the way they were acting I thought there was a national crisis or
something, but all they want to do is tell us to wash our hands and sneeze into our arms? I
lean my head against the wall and close my eyes as Mrs. Brown starts to talk.
I already got this speech from Aunt Liz a few months ago anyway, when the infection
became a big deal in Europe. Being an E.R. doctor in Phoenix who specializes in infectious
diseases, she always makes sure to keep Mom apprised to all the latest ways we can die. She
says not to take it lightly, thousands of people have already died in Asia. But thats a third
world country, right? There are lots of cities over there where they have really bad living
conditions. Over here the only cases so far have been people who travelled to these other
places, but all we do is talk about it over and over and over again.
avoid physical contact when at all possible. Mrs. Brown drones on. Yeah right, if she
thinks thats going to happen with a bunch of teenagers shes delusional.
I tune her out and go back to thinking about last nights dream. It had felt so real. Not hazy
and disjointed like most dreams, but like I was really there. Id felt the wall on my fingers, felt
the fear of climbing and falling, and felt the arms of the boy. The only surreal thing was that I
seemed to have hitched a ride in someone elses mind, more like she were living the scene out
and I was just watching from within her eyes.
Who was this girl? Where was she? And why would my mind be linked with hers? Could
my body somehow be linked to her too?
Or was it just a really bizarre dream? And if so why would I all of a sudden have one like
this, when I never have before? I didnt eat anything weird or watch some sci-fi movie to trigger
it and even if I had that wouldnt explain why the dream was about someone else.
The bell rings and I cant believe its been forty-five minutes.
Principal Ulman dismisses us and I get in line with the rest of the drones to slowly file
out of the gym. When Im free from the mob, I head to my locker to get my lunch and then
on to the cafeteria where I set out to spend my lunch hour in the same way I do every other
day; sitting in the same seat, eating the same thing, with the same group of loners who like to
read or do homework more than they like to talk, which suits me just fine. Hannah is five
people down from me on the other side of the table like always, but we never talk. Pete
always spends his lunch in the library.
After casting a furtive glance around and not seeing Justin anywhere in the room, I pull
Entangled out of my backpack and hide behind it. I just want to lose myself in my book and
not think for a while. And even though Justin seems to think its hysterical, Im actually
dying to get to the part where Oliver meets Becca. Troubled teen or not, Id rather date
someone like Oliver than Justin any day of the week.
Hello? The voice called again.
Daddy please, cant we just wait and see what he does?
Rebecca, have you lost your mind? You know what will happen if we get caught.
Well have to leave, move away from our home, the only thing we have left of our life.
I know.
Good, then come into the attic.
No. I want more than this. All this hiding and lurking. We were murdered but
were the ones serving the prison sentence for it. Im going down there, and Im going
to meet him.


Oliver came around the corner and stopped short. A girl stood before him, but she
did not look like any girl he had ever seen before. She had long white hair and wore a
shimmering blue dress. Her skin was translucent and her dark eyes stood out against the deep
shadows beneath them. He felt he should be afraid of her, there was clearly something more
to this girl, something other worldly; dangerous. And yet he could not move or take his eyes
from her.
Hello, Im Oliver...
Hey Laine, my little brothers voice startles me.
Chris, I practically scream at him, dropping my book. I put my hand over the cover to
hide it from him as he plops down across from me. This is unexpected, I didnt take you for the
kind to sit at the nerd table, I tease, itching for him to leave so I can keep reading.
Ha ha. Im not here for the stimulating conversation, he says, pausing dramatically to
look over each of his shoulders at the silent people all around us then smiles. I was wondering if
you could do me a huge favor. He waits but I just stare at him.
I need some books from the library tonight for my research paper, but I have practice.
Could you pick them up for me?
Aw Chris, I whine, I just want to go home.
I know but I need them for this weekend and by the time I get done the library will be
closed, he says with his cutest smile and widest gray-blue eyes. I sigh.
How can I say no to that, I say with fake annoyance.
Thanks Laine, youre the best, he says as he stands. Heres the list. He drops a
crumpled paper on the table in front of me. Ill owe you big.
Yeah, yeah, I say shooing him away with my hand. He leans over and kisses me on the
cheek, then walks away.
The bell blares through the cafeteria, and I slam my hand against my book and throw it
into my backpack, cursing time and the fact that I have World History next. At least there are
only two more periods before the weekend, and at least I have Psych last period.


3. Psych
When World History is finally I over I put all my books in my locker and drag myself to my
Psychology class; both glad to be in this class, as opposed to any other, and also ready to go
home. The room, which is set up more like a Starbucks than a classroom, smells like a campfire
due to all the incense sticks burning.
Welcome, Lainey, Ms. Brauer greets me and I smile weakly as I make my way to an empty
oversized leather chair.
Ms. Brauer, a thin woman with long dark brown hair that is so shiny it could be in a
shampoo commercial, is younger than all my other teachers, and since shes only been teaching
for four years she seems to still like her job. I had her for Sex Ed last year and she made even
that class bearable.
The bell rings and three more people rush through the door to get their butts in chairs
before the last reverberation of the chiming bell dies.
Good afternoon class, Ms. Brauer says with a smile. Please take out your notebooks
and your fresh perspectives. I know its the last period on a Thursday and I know tomorrow is a
half day, but I need you to quiet your thoughts and open you minds. She begins to move her
shoulders and head around in a sort preparatory stretch and puts her hands palm to palm in front
of her chest. Close your eyes please.
I do and start my breathing exercises.
You too, Tommy. Okay, good. Now, breathe; in through your nose, out through your
mouth. Clear your mind. Imagine yourself lying on your back, afloat in the ocean; your body
rocking softly in the waves.
I breathe and try to imagine the gentle rocking of the waves. Im in the middle of the
ocean, I say in my mind, and Im all alone and free to be what I want, and feel what I want.
Very good. You can open your eyes, Ms. Brauer continues after a few minutes.
Better?
There are a few uh-huhs and some nodding heads. I dont think most of them really get
it, but I do so I just smile.
Today were going to talk about how myths and urban legends affect our culture. Can
anyone name some for me?
Finally, a school topic that sounds interesting.
Paul Bunyan. Eugene, an overly buff freshman calls out from the back row.
Thats a tall tale but on the right track.
Bigfoot, another guy named Mike says.
Yes.
Unicorns, a girl I dont know by name who looks like shes ten squeaks out.
Fairies? I say.
Good, Ms. Brauer cuts in, now think darker.
Light as a feather stiff as a board, says a cute sophomore named Jake.
Good, what else?
Bloody Mary? A Goth girl whos in my senior class says in a flat voice.
Good Nell, Ms. Brauer says, Does anyone know the legend of Bloody Mary?
Nell answers her, Wasnt she beheaded?
Most people think so, but no. She actually died from influenza.
Didnt she have a bunch of people beheaded? Asks Jake.
A few, but most of the people she had killed were burned at the stake. The reason shes
called Bloody Mary is because she murdered thousands of Protestants who didnt agree with
Catholicism, which was the mandatory religion in England at that time.
From behind me I hear a deep laugh. Its wet and gurgled and sounds like something that
might come out of a drowning cat. Whatever that guy has, I dont want to catch it.
So why do people lock themselves in bathrooms and call to her through the mirror?
Nell asks, pulling me back to the discussion.
Rumor has it she was vain so she liked mirrors. The question is does she really appear
when the ritual is performed? Ms. Brauer asks.
Another fit of sharp laugh-wheezes burst out from the same corner of the room. I glance
over my shoulder to see who thinks this is so funny, and who it is thats sick so I can avoid him
later, but none of the people sitting near that corner are smiling, no one is even moving, and no
one else in the room is looking around like they heard it.
Weird.
Ive done it before, says Nell, I saw something but it looked more like a green blob
than a face.
Tell them, A throaty deep voice whispers from behind me.
Ive done it too, Raven, another senior who Ive seen hanging out with Nell speaks up.
I look back at her but shes sitting between two girls in the last row.
I watch her while she talks, hoping to see whos making the creepy noises.
When I was little, my older cousin talked us into doing it at my birthday party. Seven of
us crowded into the bathroom and my cousin sprayed water all over the mirror to keep Mary
from crossing over, she says, her finger twirling a strand of her unnaturally black hair thats
pulled into pigtails. She must wear white makeup to make her face so pale, it really makes her
darkly lined cat-like eyes and black lipstick stand out. To me she looks exactly like one of Tim
Burtons characters.
For being in the same class with her since junior high, I dont know much about her other
than shes Gothic and dates a guy that calls himself Rage. She always dresses strange and
sometimes she gets sent to the office to change into her P.E. uniform, though come to think of it,
Ive never actually seen her wearing it. Today she looks like a sexy zombie school girl; in a too
short plaid skirt held together by five oversized safety pins and a white button up shirt over a red
tank top that lets me see way more of her than I ever needed to.
Why do we even have a dress code?
I was holding a lit candle, she continues, more animated than Ive ever seen her, so we
turned off the light and closed the door. We all started chanting Bloody Mary Bloody Mary over
and over again. Soon, a reddish oval started to form in the center of the mirror. Everyone
screamed. The candle went out. There was a lot more screaming and everyone was running and
pushing. I was last out but when I went to leave, the door was closed and locked. I turned
around and there was a womans face as clear as day in the mirror. She didnt look evil, actually
she was smiling. Then the door opened and my cousin pulled me out and that was it. It was the
most Id heard her talk all year.
Thank you for sharing, Raven, and rest assured youre not alone in what you
experienced. So the question remains, are people really seeing the long dead Queen Mary Tudor,
or are they seeing what they want to see? And what about other myths? What about when
multiple people get the same creepy phone call from the same person who says the same thing?
How do we explain multiple accounts of people being followed into dark corners by someone
they all describe the same way, who then magically disappears? There have been gruesome
inexplicable murders and unsolved disappearances; people seen roaming graveyards at night
calling out for a lost love or searching for a dismembered body part.
Are any of these things real? What about magicians, fortune tellers, or psychics? How
can they do what they do if theyre just normal people? Do they actually have powers?
I raise my hand.
Yes, Ms. Abbott, Ms. Brauer calls out.
They have to be stories and hoaxes, right? I mean people dont have powers and there
arent really dark forces, I say.
I know what I saw, Raven mutters from behind me.
But you just saw it because you thought you would, it was the power of your mind, not
an evil spirit, I try to explain.
Raven and Lainey have beautifully demonstrated my next question; are these just scary
stories that have been passed down or have these become legends because theyre true? Can we
make things seem real to us through the power of suggestion and imagination or are they actually
real? Are all psychics and fortune tellers just good scam artists, or are some of them legit? Ms.
Brauer counters.
If there was really evil in the world wed know right? Thered be witches casting spells
all over the place or ghosts roaming free, so there would be no question if they exist or not, I
say.
Maybe, or maybe there is more going on than the average human can begin to
comprehend.
Tell them about the ghost, the same voice from before hisses almost silently off to my
left this time. I turn toward it, but thats where the girl who looks like shes ten is sitting, and
theres no way that voice came out of her.
My mom says shes seen a ghost, she says in her normal high voice.
A wave of shock washes over me and I can feel my pulse throbbing in my head. What is
going on? Neither of the girls are acting like they heard the voice, no one in the room is but me,
but they both did what it told them to!
We had to move because she said our last house was haunted, the girl finishes.
And shes not alone. Many people claim to have seen ghosts, Ms. Brauer continues.
Go ahead Carl.
I turn to look at Carl, a tall skinny kid whos a senior too. Could he be the one doing it?
He is sitting in the back of the room, and he does have a pretty deep voice. But how could I have
heard him from beside me?
My mom goes to a psychic, Carl says. Shes into yoga and crystals and stuff too.
Once, her psychic told her not to take a flight she was supposed to go on for a work trip, and the
plane crashed. Everyone died. She saved my moms life.
Marvelous! And that begs the question, did she know the plane was going to crash, or
was it a lucky guess? Ms. Brauer lets the question hang eerily in the air as she walks behind her
desk and pulls out a box. Who has seen one of these? She holds it up so we can see that its a
Ouija Board. Ive never used one before, my mom wouldnt let one of these within a hundred
feet of our front door. Ever since she found Jesus we have to avoid anything that even hints of
evil, and a Ouija Board definitely makes the list. But Ive seen them at stores and I know they
supposedly answers questions people asked them. Its just a dumb game. I dont really get what
the big deal is.
I have one; its just a dumb party game, Raven startles me and I almost jump out of my
skin as she answers in agreement with my thoughts.
Geez, whats wrong with me?
Sometimes it even feels like its working. I wish it did. If theres a force out there
thats willing to answer dumb questions, maybe it will answer some important ones too, she
says and this time I have to agree with her. Ever since the car accident Ive felt like we must be
completely alone in the universe. And even if there is a God out there, like my mom thinks, he
let my dad and little sister die so I dont want anything to do with him.
But I dont really think it does. The only time it ever moves for me is when my stupid
brother is pushing the pointer to freak me out. Raven finishes and I turn away from her.
So when we play with a Ouija Board, how much is in our imagination and how much is
real? Ms. Brauer poses the rhetorical question to the class, pauses for a few seconds, and then
moves on. Who has heard of the Salem Witch Trials?
Suddenly a burst of excited chatter erupts from the same back corner of the room as
before. This time it sounds like a group of men whispering in some African dialect, with a bunch
of clicking mixed in with the words. I turn, ready to rip into Carl for whatever hes trying to
pull, but he just gives me a whats your problem? look. I look past him, but again there isnt
one person in the class making the noise or looking toward where the noise is coming from. I
stare hard into the corner but there simply isnt anyone or anything there.
Is there a problem, Lainey? Ms. Brauer asks.
No, I mumble turning back to the front of the room.
Okay, Im starting to get really freaked out now.
Didnt they kill a whole bunch of women cause they thought they were witches? Jake
answers the question.
Yes, back in 1692 many men and women were hanged in Massachusetts, allegedly for
practicing witchcraft Ms. Brauer goes on. But my mind wanders away from what shes
saying and back to the corner. I dont turn around again but I can feel something there, a
presence, almost a heaviness or warmth of some kind. I feel it watching me.
For a few seconds Im fully fixated on the corner, listening, waiting to see what will
happen. I go into an almost trancelike state as I stare at my knees and try to stay in my seat, but
nothing happens.
I shake my head.
What the heck is happening?
Its nothing. Im just being stupid. Its just this topic and my weird dream messing with
my mind; making me jumpy. No one else heard it which means no matter what I think its not
there. Which is both good and bad because I know what I heard.
I mean, Ive had major issues for a long time, but Ive never heard voices before.
The bell rings.
Have a wonderful weekend, Ms. Brauer says, and everyone gets up to leave. In my
zoning out I missed the homework assignment and Ive got to get it, but I cant ask Ms. Brauer
or shell know I wasnt paying attention.
Raven, I hiss before she can walk away. She looks back at me like I have a horn
growing out of my forehead. Sorry, I missed the homework, can I get it?
Sure, she says skeptically, like Im trying to trick her into something.
Thanks, I say a little too cheerily.
Were supposed to research other legends and write about whether we think theyre real
or fake, and why we think that.
Okay, cool, I say as I write the assignment in my notebook.
The way he treats you is wrong, she says, surprising me by continuing the only
conversation weve ever had, but I have no idea who shes talking about. My face must show
my confusion because she continues, Justin I mean. We all think so.
Oh, I say and then, We?
My friends and I, weve talked about it at length. Justin isnt nice to us either. He has
no right to decide who will be accepted and who wont.
Youre right about that.
Do you like poetry? She changes the subject, taking me off guard again.
Uh. I guess, I lie.
We all go to poetry night at The Soul on Mondays. You should come.
Ive never even been in the eclectic coffee house where all the artsy kids hang out, it
looks weird. Call me clich but Ill stick with Starbucks.
Thanks, I say.
Okay well, see you around.
See ya. Apparently our mutual exclusion by, and hate for, Justin has given me
sympathy with the Goths.
Beyond ready to go home, I head to my locker and then to my car. I check my phone and
groan at the text my mom sent reminding me of the appointment she made with this new shrink.
I usually pretend to forget and just skip the session, but this time I almost forgot for real, she
must be on to my avoidance techniques.
Driving down Center Street, I occupy my mind with new ways to torment Dr. Jill, shell
never know what hit her. My last shrink had been so conceited, so into who he was and what
awards hed received. Im Dr. Whatever and I have a such and such in child psychology, if
there is anyone in the world who can help you, its me. Messing with him had been more fun
than usual but Im always up for another go at it. Whatever I can do to prove to my mom that
theyre all con-artists.
After a ten minute drive I arrive at the address my mom gave in her text, but its not an
office building, its a house.
Great, now whats she trying to pull?
Not willing to back down from the challenge, I walk up and ring the doorbell. An old
woman answers and shes the epitome of grandmotherly with her long floral dress and bifocals
attached around her neck by a long beaded necklace.
You must be Lainey, your mother told me so much about you, she says sweetly.
I thought you were a psychiatrist? I say pushing past her. I drop my backpack by the
door and walk into her living room to find two couches that almost match her dress perfectly.
Im a counselor dear, she says closing the door behind her, a Christian counselor from
your moms church. Would you like some cookies and milk?
Really?
Sure, I agree, never one to turn down a free snack. I watch her shuffle away in her
white sandals, the gray bun on top of her head bouncing as she walks, and I decide to change my
usual shock tactics to something that will benefit my current situation. When she returns I dip
my cookies in the milk as she starts her spiel.
You mother tells me you dont like counselors, she starts, reaching for second pair of
bifocals and a notebook that are sitting on a small table next to her chair.
No, I dont mind them, I say as I shove half a cookie in my mouth, I know theyre
only trying to help me. Its usually the other way around, usually they dont like me. The look
of shock at my answer crosses her face and then vanishes.
Why do you say that?
Im different than most of their patients so they dont know what to do with me.
I see. Tell me why you left Dr. Hansen.
Are you licensed? I ask abruptly.
Yes, she says warily.
LPC, LCSW?
LPC.
Okay good, I have to tell you something.
Of course dear, you can tell me anything. I want you to know you can trust me. This is
a safe space and everything you say here is confidential.
Yeah yeah look, I heard something at school today, I say, if I have to be here I might as
well see if she can help me with a real problem.
Something from one of your fellow students?
No, I mean I heard voices from something or someone that wasnt there.
Your mother said you were depressed over the loss of your father and sister.
I am, thats my usual issue; but today I escalated. Can I tell you about it or not?
Of course, she says again, but this time she purses her lips so tightly theyre almost in a
full pucker. Clearly she was not planning to deal with crazy today.
I start with my wall dream and go on to explain everything that happened, and as I talk a
look that I can only describe as pure horror slowly spreads across Dr. Jills face. Without even
realizing what shes doing she starts to back away from me, slowly receding farther and farther
into the couch so that when Im done her shoulders are almost touching her knees, making her
dress indistinguishable from the fabric on the cushions, as she glowers up at me from under her
eyebrows.
So what do you think it was, and dont lie or try to get me on meds? I want to know
what my real options are here, I finish. I can tell theres already a long list of diagnoses
swirling around in her judgy little mind; schizophrenia, multiple personalitys disorder, bipolar
disorder. I know about them all, their indicators, and what medications are prescribed for each.
And Ive gotten pretty good at faking most of them if I do say so myself, as a matter of fact I
could probably start supplying psych meds to addicts for extra income if I wanted to.
When you see as many psychiatrists and psychologists, or psychos as I like to call them,
as I do, you do your research to make sure no one lies; because they do.
The whole thing is really a big joke to me now.
My real problem is referred to as PTSD, depression, acute anxiety disorder, or a few
other things they use to make sadness sound complicated. My mom cant accept that this is just
how Im dealing with the loss of Dad and Elle, so she ushers me in and out of different doctors
every couple of months, after Im asked not to return to the previous one.
Its all about money to the shrinks. They dont want to help, they want to trick people
into thinking theyre getting help, then get them addicted to their meds; thus creating a huge
inescapable circle of dependency. They have my mom duped, but not me; and this woman, this
Christian counselor, is no different. Their motto is; get them in, get them medicated, and get
them out as fast as possible.
There are many things that could account for what you saw today, Lainey, Jill says but
shes still looking at me like Im Rosemarys baby. Im not ready to diagnose anything. We
have to meet multiple times before I can tell you anything for certain.
Right, but is there anything in real life that could explain what I saw, besides that Im a
whackadoodle? I mean have you ever had a case involving real ghosts?
Honestly, no. But that doesnt mean I cant help you. Sometimes just talking about
something can make it go away; when you get it out in the open your mind can let it go.
But thats my point. Is there any way its not all in my mind? I mean, there are so many
people that see things, how do we know that theyre not right and that you all, you professionals,
arent the ones that are wrong?
Our times almost up. Well continue this discussion next time, Jill says. Id like to
pray with you if you dont mind, Lainey? Whatever else is going on, there is one thing I know
for sure and its that God cares about you and he wants to help you heal. I almost laugh out
loud.
I have to hand it to her, this is definitely a first.
Thats fine, but if I come back to see you will you really look into this? I dont need any
more cognitive therapy. Ive flushed more Amitriptyline and Clomipramine down the toilet than
youve prescribed. The way you can help me is by finding out if theres any hope for me.
Theres always hope
Stop! I yell at her before she can finish her sickly sweet platitude. I dont want Jesus
or to be made into a human paperweight, what I want is for you to believe me. I stop and look
at her but she doesnt say a thing. Which clearly you dont. I get up and walk to the door,
grabbing my backpack before I slam the door behind me.

4. Cocky Much?
Home at last. And with the weekend ahead of me Im feeling a little better, despite what
happened in Psych and the Dr. Jill thing, as I pull into the garage and watch the huge metal door
fall, creating a barrier between me and the world. But then I walk from the garage through the
laundry room and into the kitchen where Im greeted, not by the good smells of dinner and a
nosy mom inquiring about my day as shes cooking it, but by a dark and quiet house.
Ah man! After everything I forgot all about my mom working late tonight. Perfect,
I mumble.
With my backpack still slung over my shoulder and three textbooks cradled in my arms, I
awkwardly grab some fruit, cheese, and crackers, put them all on a paper plate, then stick a water
bottle in the side pouch of my backpack and precariously make my way up the stairs with the
plate balanced on my books, the apple rolling from one side to the other with each step I take. I
get halfway up the stairs when I hear a muffled mans voice, that isnt my brothers, coming
from either my room or Chris. I freeze mid-step on the landing, my heart picking up speed. As
I try to listen.
really gotta try harder to block the guy on Abbott so he can make the three I hear
the voice say and I let out the huge breath I was holding in relief, its just a recorded school
basketball game playing on Chris T.V.
I have got to calm down.
I turn toward my room and almost make it to my bed, but just as I go through the
doorway the apple rolls off the plate and lands on the floor with a loud thump.
Laine? I hear Chris muffled voice and the T.V. goes silent
Yeah, its me, I call to him as I drop everything Im holding on my bed. I didnt think
youd be home yet. Though I cant say Im not glad to have him here with me.
I needed to watch last weekends game before practice. Did you get my books?
Shoot.
No, Chris, Im really sorry, I had a weird day, I say as I walk into the bathroom we
share.
I hear his chair squeak and the clomp clomp of his footsteps.
He got up. I must be in big trouble.
Laine, he whines as he appears in the doorway. I rinse off the apple and walk back into
my room and he follows me through the bathroom then stops just inside my room and leans
against the doorframe. I needed those books for tomorrow. I have practice in the morning and
a game at one, then Krav Maga at four, which by the way are you planning on going to my
tournament, cause if so I need to put you down for a ticket?
When is it? I ask but Ill go no matter when it is, I dont think Ive missed one yet, and
hes been in some sort of martial arts since he was four. It makes me mad, really, that hes so
athletic. I mean, hes basketball captain, pitcher in baseball, the football quarterback; he excels in
anything that requires a ball really. And as if all that isnt impressive enough for one person,
hes even better at fighting. He has belts in Ju-Jitsu, Taekwondo, Capoeira, and a bunch more I
cant even pronounce. This Krav Maga thing is new, some super deadly fighting style practiced
by soldiers in Israel or something. In any case I know better than to mess with him and pity
anyone who decides to try.
The twenty-fourth at three, its a Saturday.
Yeah, Ill let Lucy know.
Ok. Anyway, tomorrow night after the game I was gonna work on my paper after our
celebratory dinner.
Cocky much? I tease him.
Confident. We always win.
Not always, and saying that is called being cocky.
Anyway, he says dramatically, you said youd get them and
I will, I finish his sentence. I promise Ill get your books before you need them.
Promise?
Promise promise. By tomorrow night youll have every book on your list if I have to go
out and buy them with my own money.
Okay, but if you dont
I will.
Okay, he concedes dubiously and heads back into the bathroom.
What time are you leaving? I call after him.
In ten.
Great. Guess Ill be alone after all.
I take a bite of my apple and check the clock. Its 4:51 now, Mom should be home
around 7, so that gives me at least two hours to be here alone. I usually enjoy having time to
myself, but tonight Id rather have Josie over than sit here in silence listening for more voices or
creepy sounds.
I should do homework, but I dont want to and dont think I could focus if I tried. I just
want to rest and veg. Maybe watch some T.V. or draw. Whatever I do, I have to keep my mind
busy or Ill go nuts thinking about what happened today.
I walk across the room and slide the little white bedside table down the wall away from
my bed.
When I was younger it didnt bother me when my mom read my diary, but after Dad and
Elle died I didnt want her to know every thought and feeling I had, she would never understand
and it would just make her feel worse. When she asked I told her I stopped keeping a diary but I
didnt, instead I took her sewing scissors to the carpet and cut a slit in it right under the top
corner of my bed, making a hidden pocket. This way she cant see it and I make sure she doesnt
vacuum over it by keeping the table here. I have twelve diaries so far but I only keep the current
one in the house. The rest are in a locker I rent at the gym down the street, where Im not even a
member. I just need to know I have something private, a place to share my true feelings that she
cant get to, and if I dont hide it, I wont; thats just how she is.
I pull my diary from under the carpet and open it to the next blank page.

Dear Diary,
Something weird happened today. I dont really know what to say about
it because Im still not really sure what it was exactly. I was in Psych and I heard
someone laughing, not a normal laugh but like a creepy gurgly inhuman laugh.
Then whoever it was started talking. It whispered to one of the girls, told her to say
something, and she did it. At first I thought it was one of the guys trying to be funny,
then I thought I must be hearing things because no one else was acting like they
heard it. But then it happened again.
Thats when I really freaked out.
After that I watched, waited to see who was saying those things, but no one
was. And no one else ever acted like they heard anything unusual. I dont think I
was supposed to hear it either.
I know it sounds crazy.
I dont know what to think, I mean Ive been on a downward spiral for a while
so its not too much of a stretch, but I dont usually hear voices.
Maybe all this time all these dumb so called doctors have been right. Maybe I
am mentally ill and my depression is escalating into schizophrenia or MPD; or
something worse. Maybe this is my mental break and I dont even know it!
Before school I almost couldnt get out of the car I was having such a bad
anxiety attack. I wish Id have just gone home.
Oh, and I had a really weird dream last night too. I was saved from falling off
a wall by a boy Ive never met. I didnt know him, but whoever I was supposed to be
in the dream sure did. She was all flustered to meet him and had superhero
complex. That wasnt the weird thing though, the weird thing was that I thought it
was really happening, I still feel like it really happened, and I cant shake the
feeling that I was seeing someone elses life through her eyes.
Usually I fight the notion that Im crazy, but after today all bets are off.
I get up and put my diary back in its hiding spot, making sure to match the worn grooves
in the carpet up perfectly with the legs of the table, then lie down on my bed. I try to think but
Im worn out so I just let my mind wander.

Alright, Ill see you later, I call out to the same pretty girl. She waves to me at a turn in
the road and goes off in the opposite direction while I round the corner of a huge circular
building with an open roof, that kind of looks like a smaller less impressive version of the
Colosseum in Rome; and head down an all but deserted alley; a shortcut home.
Home?
A noise, like rocks being kicked on cement, echoes from above me sending a tinge of fear
up my spine so I pick up my pace. Just like last time, Im in this body but it doesnt actually
belong to me so I cant control it and I dont really know whats going on. I can feel what shes
feeling and I get glimpses of her thoughts, so I know she goes this way all the time and usually
isnt scared. But now she, I, have the chilling sensation that Im being watched. Speed walking
now, I keep glancing up to the flat rooftops of the buildings on either side of me. I can tell that
shes pretty sure that someones up there following her, us, whatever.
Whos there? I call out.
I am, a voice from right in front of me startles me and I almost run into him, but stop
abruptly and then take a step back. The heel of my shoe catches on my long skirt and I trip but
before my butt hits the ground, a hand grabs mine and I find myself back in the saving arms of
the same boy who stopped me from falling off the wall.
Colrenac. The name just appears in my mind. Its a strange name so Im sure Ive never
heard it before.
What are you doing here? I ask through shallow breaths, pushing against his bare chest
to disentangle myself from his tight grip. I then pretend to flatten the front of my dress while I
wait for the burning in my face to stop so he wont know Im half scared out of my wits and half
flustered that he, specifically, is now standing right in front of me.
She really really likes him.
Following you, he says like I should have known that.
Why?
What are you?
Excuse me?
Youre not a soldier morph, not a morph at all if I had to guess; so what are you and
why are you allowed to live in Armithan? His mischievous eyes are such a bright blue, like a
tropical ocean, and I find myself staring at them then realizing hes looking into my eyes too. I
look away quickly and then awkwardly try to look everywhere but back at his face.
Armithan? As in the infection everyones so worried about?
I dont know what youre talking about, I say but Im lying. I dont know what the
truth is or why Im keeping it a secret, but I am.
Youre lying, the boy reads one of my minds. Oh gosh, maybe I do have Multiple
Personality Disorder.
Look, I dont owe you anything, I say rudely.
So thats the going rate for a life these days, nothing? Youre selling yourself short. Id
say youre worth quite a bit more, he says with a smile. Is he flirting with me or making fun of
me? I cant tell. Maybe a little of both.
I appreciate what you did for me, but I never asked you to save me; and Im certainly
not indebted to you for your offered act of kindness.
Kindness? Id call it bravery at the very least, and chivalry if I were being generous.
Youre a real knight in shining armor, I say and he gives me a confused look.
Aw well, so much for my dream that youd be forever in my debt, or be my servant until
you could save my life in return. Hes just mocking me now.
Yeah, sorry; not gonna happen. I would however be willing to make a deal, I say and
his eyebrows go up in surprise.
Oh really? And what kind of deal would that be?
Ill answer your questions if you will answer mine. And for some reason saying these
words terrifies me. From the look on his face, they terrify him too. I wait, half hoping hell say
no and leave.
You have yourself a deal.