The Lost Link

The growling of the morquals behind us was loud, even louder than my mother’s frantic gasps and the crunch of the hard snow underneath our pounding feet. The growling was everywhere—in the trees, in the air, in the star-filled sky. It surrounded us, covering our skin with its clammy threat of death.

The terror consumed me. If it weren’t for Mom dragging me along, grip tight on my wrist, I would have dropped to my knees and curled into a quivering ball of fear. But I willed my legs to keep moving, even as each step became harder to take. The frigid winter wind cut through my dress like a knife, and each breath scorched my lungs with fire. Still, we kept running. The thought of what they would do to us if they caught us was more than enough incentive.

Behind us, the giant Redwoods obscured our pursuers from our sight, but I knew they were there. Hunting us with their long snouts and night vision. They were hunters. That’s what they were bred for. They wouldn’t give up. Not until we lay bloody and torn at their feet.

I stumbled over an exposed root, almost pulling my mother down with me as I fell. Something sharp tore into my knee, bringing tears to my eyes, but I swallowed the pain. Mom yanked me back to my feet and we kept running. We had to get to the river. Something about the river would protect us. Even at my young age, I knew that much.

“Almost there, baby girl,” she whispered encouragement at me, willing me to go on. I blinked back the tears blurring my vision, and gripped the swirly, blue stone my dad had given me earlier in the night tighter in my hand. He told me to keep it safe. My ascending gift, he’d called it. We’d been having a party. And then those monsters had shown up. What those things had done to him… I tried to be brave, but the horror burned in my brain caused a tiny whimper to escape and Mom heard.

“It’ll be okay, Bridjette. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Another growl pierced the night, closer this time. They were gaining on us.

I strained my ears, listening for their approach, but instead heard a sound that sparked a tiny bit of hope in my chest for the first time since the attack. The unmistakable sound of water splashing over rocks. The river. We were close.

“We’re almost there.” Hope tinged my mother’s voice as well, and I knew we would make it. We would be safe.

We stumbled out of the trees into a clearing, and the sound of the rushing rapids was like music to my ears. Just being this near to the water filled me with a calm, replacing the fear that weighed me down. My feet felt lighter as I practically shot past my mother, knowing I needed to reach the safety of the riverbank. The water would protect me.

The crack of a tree snapped from its roots ricocheted in the night air as Mom stumbled to a stop and pulled me close. The severed tree sailed over our heads and landed on the other side of us, blocking us from the river. A tiny scream fell from her lips and she hid my face in her dress, but I knew what she saw behind my back. The stench of blood and sulfur filled my nostrils. The morquals had caught up to us.

“Give us the girl.” The voice was raspy and unnatural. A voice that should not have existed. But it was real and here and sounded far too close.

My mother’s tremor of terror rippled through her and into me, but her own answer was strong and resolute.

“You will not take her. She cannot have her.”

“Foolish woman,” the voice hissed. The hatred and rage contained in it promised what the monster would do to her. To my mom. Just like what it had done to my dad, and I tightened my grip around her legs. No. I wouldn’t lose Mom, too. I couldn’t.

“I love you, Bridjette,” she whispered against the top of my head moments before I felt the thrum of her magic fill my entire body and lift me into the air. Being yanked away from her felt like having my very soul ripped from me. I sailed backwards over the tree stump and hit the water hard, the frigid river rendering me breathless.

“Mom,” I tried to call out, but the water closed over my head, filling my mouth and tearing at my throat with sharp claws. I struggled my way back to the surface, gasping for air. Panicked now, I tried to fight against the current threatening to pull me under and tear me away into the dark, away from my mom.

I tried to scream again, but the water rushed over me, dragging me down into its black depths. The last sound I heard before succumbing to the darkness was my mother’s words shouted with her dying breaths, “Fosgail an t-slighe!”

###

I bolted upright, my fingers fumbling in the dark and trying to find the lamp on the bedside table.Frantic wheezing echoed in my ears and competed with the thumping of my racing heart. Flipping the switch, the reassuring glow of the lamp chased away the shadows, designating them back to the corners of my tiny room. I sat frozen for a moment, my hand still on the lamp as I willed my breathing back under control.

Sweat soaked my hair, plastering it to my forehead, and my T-shirt clung to my back like a second skin. I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. A slight shiver passed over me, a cool breeze from the open window chilling my damp shirt. Planting my feet on the freezing tile floor, I sighed in relief. The iciness felt nice against the soles of my feet, soaking into my body and cooling down the heated fear in my blood.

Dammit. Third time this week for that crazy-ass dream. Gripping the edge of my shirt, I wiped the sweat from my face and glanced around the room, trying to convince myself the dream wasn’t real, even as those screaming words echoed in my head.

Fosgail an t-slighe.

What did that mean? That part was new. Never heard the woman/mother figure in my dream say that before. Were they magical words? They sounded magical, though the only magic I knew came from watching Charmed reruns.

Doc Howard, my shrink, had told me the nightmares would lessen as I got older. That it was just a phase, and I would outgrow it. Yeah. Right. What a crock of bullshit that was. Hope it wasn’t too late for him to get a refund on that piece of paper hanging on his office wall, stating he was an expert in this sort of thing. Man was dead wrong.

I squinted at my phone next to my bed, the blinking display mocking my state of sleeplessness. Four fifteen. The same time as the last few nights. The dream was consistent, if nothing else.

Doc said the dream was my mind’s way of trying to deal with my abandonment issues. No shit, Sherlock. Considering I was abandoned and left at an orphanage at the age of five, which was stated quite clearly in my files, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. Even I knew that much. Although, what those crazy things chasing me in my dreams had to do with abandonment issues I still wasn’t sure of. Wasn’t even sure what they were. Dragons, maybe? What was my subconscious trying to tell me? That I was severely messed up? Like I needed a shrink to tell me that. The row of pill bottles stacked neatly on my night table was proof enough.

I reached for one of the bottles of tiny white tablets but changed my mind and drew my hand back. No. The pills made me groggy, and I had to be up and ready for school in two hours. Not enough time for them to wear off. I had a social studies oral report this morning, and I didn’t need to be a cotton-head going into that. I had to ace this report. I needed to ace it. That scholarship had to be mine, for my own sanity. I needed away from this town. This house. This life.

Leaving the light on, I lay back on my pillow. I knew Helen would bitch about the light if she got up and passed my door on her way to her dozen pee breaks a night. I’d get a lecture on how inconsiderate I was running up her electric bill, how I was a drain on the family finances, yada, yada, yada. The woman never stopped complaining. There were times I seriously wanted to replace her Chapstick with a glue stick. But I chanced her anger since the soft glow held some comfort for me as I stared up at the popcorn ceiling. The light kept the nightmare at bay. Sometimes.

I began mumbling to myself. It was Doc’s idea to busy my mind with a repetitive routine after the nightmare. Running through a systematic itinerary of my life.

My name is Bridjette O’Hare. Real.

I am eighteen years old. Real I’ve been having the same dream as long as I can remember. The dream is not real.

I live in Contigo Springs. Real.

I attend Contigo High. Real.

I die every time in the dream. That is not real.

I live with Helen and Phillip Shaw. Real.

They are my foster parents. Real.

The dream has terrifying, dragon-like creatures. They are not real.

I hate my foster parents. So effing real.

I wish they would fall off the face of the earth. Real as shit.

Okay, maybe the last two lines were my own inclusion. Didn’t mean it wasn’t true. And Doc was right; it did help me feel better saying it out loud.

I repeated the words over and over, like a mantra. My own way of counting sheep. Finally, my eyes started to droop, and I felt the Sandman’s imminent approach. I snuggled deeper into my pillow, hoping to be dream free for the next couple of hours and get some decent shuteye. Oral reports were a bitch, and I needed all my facilities about me for this if I wanted to stay awake during my comparison of the models of democracy. A real page turner.

The tingle of electricity began in my wrist as my birthmark started to burn. It quickly zapped its way over the rest of my body. Aww, for Pete’s sake. Not again. Not now.

I slowly pried my eyes open, knowing full well what awaited me.

It was the red-head girl this time. I hadn’t seen her in a while. She sat on the other side of my room on some neon-green, ugly couch that only half protruded into my room. The other half of the couch was cut off by my bedroom wall, and I suddenly had this fleeting, hysterical thought in my head that anyone walking by outside could see the other part of the couch hanging off the side of the house like some huge, green booger. I even snorted a bit to myself, but the girl didn’t hear me. The ones I saw never did. They walked about doing their daily activities and paid no mind to the crazy psycho watching them. Well, why would they, really? They weren’t real. They were all in my damn head. Every single one of them. You’d think if I was going to hallucinate these beings, I’d at least have the ability to make them speak. What good were imaginary friends if you couldn’t even talk to them?

The girl was reading a book. Least she was doing something normal. Sometimes when they came to me, they were in the middle of more…awkward activities. When I saw them in the middle of a bath or dressing, I learned to look away real quick. The book was totally strange looking, bound in leather with writing I couldn’t understand. It looked old and fragile. Wasn’t any Stephen King new release that was for sure. As she read, I studied her. She looked sad, but then she always looked sad. The brunette, curly-haired girl illusion always appeared terrified and the dark-haired guy constantly smiled like an idiot. I wondered why they all seemed so different in their appearance.

Doc had given this craziness an official name: hypnagogic hallucinations. He said the visions I saw were representations of my own deep buried psyches. Okay. All I knew was I saw these three a lot. And lately, there’d been a new addition. For the past six months, a dark, broody dude with emerald eyes had started to visit. I saw him the least, but he scared me the most. More than the rest combined. He radiated danger, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I guessed he was a representation of my fear for my future psyche?

Then there were the creatures I couldn’t quite put a name to. The same nightmare creatures from my dream, I believe. Wasn’t sure since I never saw them clearly enough to know. They were blurred and hazier, like my brain was trying to keep them at bay. Not quite sure what my subconscious had in mind when it drummed those up. Thankfully, they and the broody guy never appeared as real as Larry, Curly, and Moe. Yeah, my three most often hallucinations had names. Didn’t everyone’s?

I ran a weary hand over my eyes, willing Moe away. I needed sleep, not a visit from my sad psyche, but she stayed right where she was. Sighing to myself, I sat back up and reached for the pill bottle closest to me. Oral report or no, Moe had to go. I couldn’t sleep with her in the room. Even if she never acknowledged me, it would be like trying to sleep with someone watching you. I always had this freaky feeling that if I closed my eyes, when I opened them, she’d be leaning over my bed, staring at me. Nope, couldn’t sleep with that image stuck in my head.

Snapping the top off the bottle, I shook a pill in my hand and reached for the glass of water on the night table. Before I could pop it in my mouth, however, a sudden movement caught in my peripheral. I looked up. Moe was on her feet, the book dropped and forgotten on the floor. The sad look on her face was gone, replaced by pure fear. She stared to the right of my room, straight into a cloud of haze. Well, haze to me. Whatever she saw terrified her. My own muscles tensed, and I fought a deep urge to run as her mouth opened in a silent scream, and she covered her head with her arms.

“Run!” I shrieked at her, unable to help myself. Her terror was tangible. But Moe stood still in shock as what she was witnessing finally came into my line of sight. Something big and scaly loomed over the girl, blocking her from my eyes. She disappeared under its cloak of darkness, and the white haze surrounding her was tinted with ribbons of red. Like blood.

Unable to look away, fear coated my tongue as I swore the creature turned and stared at me with its yellow, dead eyes. The creature from my nightmare. I couldn’t hear it, but the head shook, and smoke shot out of its scaly, long snout, like it was snorting at me, and not in a laughing sort of way. Terror pricked my heart like an ice shard, and the coldness spread over me, leaving me shivering in its wake.

Pressing my fists into my eyes, I blocked the horrible vision. “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real,” I mumbled, my brain arguing with my eyes.

I felt the shadow fall over me. I raised my arms in defense and bit my lip to stop my scream as I opened my eyes to face…. nothing. The room was empty. The vision and Moe were gone, along with her butt-ugly green couch and the creature. All that was left was my tiny room with its peeling blue paint and thrift-store furniture.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my head swiveling as I searched the room. But there was no sign of anything. Of course there wasn’t. Why would there be? Things happening in your head didn’t leave evidence. And that was one hell of a hallucination. It had seemed so tangible. This was it. I’d finally gone over the edge. Helen said it would happen. Hated to admit it, but she was right.

Report or not, I grabbed the pill bottle again and shook another into my trembling hand. Man, I’d never been this spooked by an episode before. Doc was gonna have a field day with this. I shoved the pills into my mouth, downing the glass of water.

Heavy footsteps in the hallway outside my door made me cringe.

“Enough with the yelling already. You do realize it’s five am, and I have to get up for work in a couple of hours, yes?” Phil’s question contained more anger than concern, and I couldn’t help the sarcastic, “Sorry if I woke you with my nightmare. I’m okay though, thanks for asking.”

He muttered something not fit to repeat and stomped back down the hall.

Pushing my pillows up against the wall, I sat back and yanked the blankets up to my chin, all thoughts of sleep gone. I kept twisting the leather bracelet on my arm covering my birthmark and stared at the spot where I’d last seen Moe.

A low knock sounded at the door, startling me.

“Jette, are you okay?”

Anna, the Shaw’s biological daughter. Her voice was low and hesitant, like she was weighing the options of checking on me. Wondering if the fallout would be worth it.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, hoping it was loud enough for her to hear, but not loud enough to alert the two idiots down the hall. “Go back to bed, Anna.”

I hoped she believed me. Unlike her parents, the kid was okay, and I didn’t want her taking any backlash for her concern. I guess I was convincing enough, since her footsteps faded away.

I wiped a hand over my face. I knew there’d be no more sleeping tonight. Not after seeing that. My nightmares had never invaded my hallucinations before. And did that thing really look at me? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything now that it was all over. Damn, that was the most intense hallucination I’d ever had. Did that mean they were getting worse? Great. Just what I needed. To add more crazy to my list of problems. And what about Moe? Had I just watched her die? Could hallucinations even die? I truly hoped not, for as many times as I’d wished her and the others away, that was not quite the way I wanted it to happen. Man, my mind was one messed up knot of neurons. Lucky, effin’ me.

“Hey, albino freak. You dropped this.”

The junior holding my social studies paper at arm’s length stared me down like I was covered in pus and boils. I didn’t blame him for his look of fear. Even just being seen talking to me put you in the wrong social hierarchy of Contigo High. I doubted he even knew my name. Albino freak was my generic handle.

I resisted the urge to explain to him what an albino was, and that I most definitely was not one. Well, I didn’t think so anyway, but I undeniably was an oddball. No arguing that. My mane of white-silver hair was not the everyday norm. People actually asked why I dyed it that way and really didn’t believe me when I told them it was natural. Top that off with silver gray eyes and pale skin, and it made for one whole package of weird.And I was sure the piercings through my bottom lip and eyebrow didn’t help my social standings, either. Or the bright red trench coat I wore to top off my trademark look. Bought it at the thrift shop for two dollars and ninety-nine cents and then found forty bucks in the pocket. Jackpot. Best thrift store find, ever. I called it my lucky coat. The perfect topping to my oddball sundae of persona.

I was…. different to say the least. Well, that’s what I was told, over and over by any family that took me in. Helen and Phil were the worst, though. They and Contigo Springs were as prudish as any small, rural-town people could get. The most rebellious move I’d seen at school was some punk wearing a green mohawk. And even he had friends. I stood out like a sore thumb. But I never was one to care about that sort of thing. I wasn’t no tanned, blonde cheerleader type, but I certainly wasn’t albino.

I skipped the lecture and instead took my report from junior with a quick “thanks.” He stared at me in terror, obviously regretting his rash good deed to the school pariah, and ran off to join his friends, who were regarding him with their best “WTF dude” looks.

I hadn’t even realized I’d dropped the report. Good thing junior was more awake than me this morning. I’d worked hard on this thing, and there was no way I could have winged the presentation this morning without it. Ms. Stitt was a stickler when it came to deadlines. There would have been no exceptions, not even for me. The woman had a soft spot for me due to our very similar fortes in weirdness, but not even I could get away with missing a deadline. I needed that A in every single class, even social studies.

I blamed my carelessness on my lack of sleep. Not even after popping three pills had I slept much. The nightmares had returned, only this time the creatures called my name, and someone kept yelling at me to be alert. It had been a male voice. Doc Howard would probably associate the male voice to my absent father or some shit. He was always full of wisdom like that.

I ignored the peculiar looks coming from some of the students as I walked by, heading to my first class. Those were nothing new. Even the loud whispers of albino freak and weirdo or, my personal fav, albino Columbo, didn’t bother me. They were just words meant to get a rise out of me. I was long past that crap. The ignorance and cruelty of the rest of the school body no longer surprised me. This school was no different than the last five I’d been in. The threats, and name calling, and insults were all the same, just the location had changed.

I’d grown a tough skin over my life. Being shuffled around from foster home to foster home kind of did that to you, I guess. When you were used to being talked about and treated like you didn’t matter, it cut hard. When kindness was a trait you’d long forgotten about, it affected you. You tried to protect yourself from the bad in ways you didn’t even realize. The shell I’d built had just gotten thicker and thicker over the years. I didn’t bother to try and make friends anymore, but my younger version had tried. Sometimes, it had even worked. But then I’d get one of my episodes. When you saw things that weren’t there and tried talking to people that didn’t exist, guess what? That sort of lunatic behavior scared the crap out of people, and my so-called friends couldn’t run away fast enough.

So, I’d given up trying. I’d given up on a lot and instead focused all my energies on my martial arts training with Bishop, getting good grades, and getting that damned scholarship. I figured if no one could help me understand what was going on in my head, then I’d figure it out myself. A silver-haired, hallucinating neuroscientist was just what the world needed. The scientific world was waiting for me. Who needed friends?

I rounded the corner of the hallway and headed toward my locker only to pull up short and cuss under my breath. Great. The whole damn Scooby gang was there, hanging out by the row of lockers where mine unfortunately sat. You know the ones I was talking about, the quintessential poster teens for schools across America. Lexa Butler, the blonde cheerleader and her tag-along wannabes who tried to make every other girl’s life in school a living hell for no apparent reason other than pure nastiness. Her football player boyfriend, Liam—Lionel?—something along those lines. He and his horde of blockhead friends who let the girls lead them around by the rings in their noses. They were the same in every school. The people who lucked out in the gene pool and had no qualms about rubbing it in everyone’s faces. I’d seen numerous versions of them in the different schools over the years, but bottom line, they were all the same. A bunch of obnoxious twats who enjoyed picking on the lower castes. And today of all days, they had to be hanging about here.

Usually I ignored their caustic remarks and snarky looks. They didn’t faze me, and I wouldn’t normally let them scare me away. But after last night, I was in no mood to deal with their bullshit. I didn’t need my social studies textbook that badly.

Turning on my boot heel, I started to head in the other direction when that catty laughter clawed down my spine. That laugh only came out of Lexa when she had a poor fish dangling on the hook. Sure enough, a squeaky “Please don’t” followed the laughter and I faltered. Nope. None of my business. Not going there. I took another step, determined to ignore them.

“Give me back my phone!”

The voice sounded distinctly familiar, and I did a real stupid thing. I looked back. Sighing as my suspicions were confirmed, I pivoted and headed their way.

The tiny brunette was jumping in the air in a pathetic attempt to grab her phone away from the much taller Lexa, who held it over her head mockingly. The skinny runt with her granny glasses and braces was all too familiar. Anna. As unlikable as my foster parents were, Anna made up for that in her sweetness. I wouldn’t exactly call us bosom buddies. Not like we hung out or anything, but she did treat me with kindness, albeit mixed with a bit of fear. I owed her something in return for the times she brought me food when I was sent to my room without dinner.

“Is it true what I’ve heard?” Lexa’s voice was shrill and obnoxious in her pretend innocence as she glanced around at her equally obnoxious friends. “I heard you’ve been spotted following Donnie around and taking pictures of him without his permission.” She nodded to the brick house with no neck, and he grinned in amusement. “Is that true? Do you have a crush on Donnie?”

The “awwwws” that followed were in no way meant to be cute. They practically dripped with nastiness.

Heat crept up Anna’s cheeks until her face was almost as red as her candy apple phone. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She reached for her phone once more, to no avail. Lexa snatched it away before lowering it back down. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure as she noticed Anna’s embarrassment.

“Let’s find out, shall we? Let’s have a look and see what you keep hidden on this stalker phone of yours.”

“Let’s not,” I growled as I snatched the phone from Lexa’s slimy hand. “Haven’t you ever heard of having respect for someone else’s personal property?”

She quickly overcame her surprise at my intervention, and her eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Stay out of this, freak.”

“Yeah, see, I wish I could.” I stared hard into her baby blues. “But I kind of like this kid, and I really don’t like you, sooooo…” I shifted my hands up and down as if actually weighing my options.

“This is none of your business.” Lexa’s second in command shoved me hard, but her skinny ass barely budged me, and I turned my glare on her.

“What’s on Anna’s phone is none of yours.” I handed Anna her phone, her terrified gaze jumping back and forth between me and Lexa like she knew this wasn’t over. “Go to class,” I ordered her. She didn’t need to be told twice. She ran, not even glancing back at me to see if I was okay. So much for gratitude.

Since I had taken away their play toy, all attention now focused on me. The minions formed a circle around me as Lexa stepped close and leaned into my face. So close I could see the blackheads on her nose under her thick makeup. Seeing that mar her perky perfection kind of made me feel better about this whole situation.

“You know, you’re starting to get on my nerves, albino. I tried to ignore your ugly ass at first, but you are really making that hard to do.”

“Hmmm, nice to know you’re paying so much attention to my ass. Didn’t know you played for that team, but next time I’ll remember to shake it a little more for your benefit.”

Her cheeks colored at my innuendo and her eyes blazed with anger. “Do you know who you’re messing with, bitch?”

I leaned closer to her, nose to nose. “Do you know I really don’t care?”

She stepped back and raised a hand as if to strike me, but if growing up in foster homes had taught me one thing, it was fast reflexes. I grabbed her wrist mid-swing and held tight. My heart raced in my chest as adrenaline pumped through my veins, and a sudden urge to throw her across the room washed over me. I tamped the urge down as we stared into each other’s eyes, the hatred emanating from her palpable. Then that familiar flame heated up the birthmark on my wrist holding hers.

No. Not now.

I knew what was coming next. I tried to disconnect from her, but the electrical pulse jumped through my body, and Lexa jerked away as the jolt hit her too. Her eyes opened wide in panic.

“What the hell did you just do to me, freak?”

I ignored her as I studied the hallway looking for the source of the shock. Was it Moe? Was she back and okay? The flowing mist in the corner caught my eye, and I spun toward it, but it wasn’t Moe I found. It was the broody dude this time. His tall frame appeared out of the mist as if he was actually standing at the end of the hall. His hand went to the sword hanging at his side, and he shook his mane of dark hair like he didn’t quite know where he was. He carried a freakin’ sword? This was a first. His head swiveled, taking in the surroundings. None of the milling teens at the end of the hall appeared to notice him, so I knew he wasn’t truly there. I made the decision to ignore him, since I knew Lexa wasn’t finished with me. The Zorro wannabe would have to wait. But then a set of emerald green eyes locked with mine, and my breath caught in my throat as I heard a deep voice yell, “Bridjette!”

What the hell? Did he just call my name?

I yelped in pain as a fist slammed into my shoulder, and I stumbled backwards, almost landing on my ass. Dammit. Zorro’s distracting me had given the little twat the upper hand.

“I said, what did you do to me you stupid freak?”

My body reflexively went into offensive mode, and my hands curled like I was holding my sai. Bishop’s “you must keep control at all times, Jette girl” echoed in my head, but it was real hard to listen to my sensei’s advice when this freakin’ witch was getting on my last nerve.

“Is there a problem here, people?”

The calm voice halted me in my tracks. My body relaxed as Ms. Stitt approached our group. Her eyes skimmed over me before landing on Lexa.

“Lexa? Is something wrong?”

Lexa’s gaze bored into me with a promise that this wasn’t over, but with her usual fake cheeriness, she answered, “No, Ms. Stitt. Just catching up with old friends.”

“Is that what’s happening here, Jette?” Ms. Stitt’s dry comment pretty much called out Lexa’s bold ass lie, but I didn’t bother to spill the beans. It wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

The teacher’s stare held mine, willing me to say more, but I stayed stubbornly quiet. The only thing worse than being known as a freak was being labeled a snitch.

“Maybe you all should get to class now.” Ms. Stitt’s calm voice belied the firm tone of her order, and my feet were in motion before my head even processed the words. I heard snorts of laughter behind me, but I didn’t care if Lexa and her group of morons thought I was running away. I needed to check if mysterious dude was still around. I needed to know if my hallucinations were getting worse, because if I was hearing them now as well as seeing them? Not good.

He, however, must have had other plans for the day, since there was no sign of him or the weird mist that came with the package. The hallway was almost deserted as everyone found their way to class. He was gone.

Disappointment washed over me. I stopped moving and looked around more, hoping to find him lurking in some corner or hiding behind a locker, but he’d disappeared. I felt Ms. Stitt’s approach.

“I believe we share a social studies class first period, Jette. Shall we walk to class together?”

I shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

She fell into step with me in silence at first, but then, “You know, I’m always here if you need someone to talk to. If you’re having problems with any of the other students or any sort of issues, you can always come to me to talk.”

I stifled the sarcastic snort that tried to bubble its way to the surface. If I was having any issues?

“Thanks, Ms. Stitt, but I’m okay. Really.” I was lying through my teeth and she knew it, but she didn’t press me. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate her concern for me. I really did. It was just that I truly wouldn’t know where to begin. My whole life was an issue.

“Well, the offer still stands. Remember that. I know what it’s like to not be one of the ‘in’ crowd.”

The in crowd? She actually thought that’s what was bothering me? Oh, silly, naïve Ms. Stitt. If only she knew the truth, she’d know that being part of the stupid “in crowd” was the least of my worries.