mean, peanut?"
I
ignored him, watching my mother for any sign of comprehension. Her face, blank
and empty except for that hollow smile, showed nothing. "Mom?"
A glimmer
of understanding cleared her eyes, but as soon as Dad stood to touch her
shoulder, the vacant stare returned. "Everything's fine, honey. Hungry?"
My dad's
hands no longer shook, and his eyes were clear and lucid. "Mom's been
touched by God, peanut. Isn't it wonderful?"
∞ ∞ ∞
When the
bus chugged to a stop, I stayed in the back of the line, waiting for the ten
kids ahead to take their sweet-ass time climbing the steps. The thought of
facing Zander made me glad I'd skipped food. I couldn't deal with him, didn't
want to.
Nope, school
was the last place I needed to go.
The last
three people before me made their way on the bus, and I slid behind the collage
of mailboxes. As soon as the thing huffed down the road, I jogged into the
woods, not stopping until I reached the place near the stream where the
potheads congregated for their nightly high.
For a
bunch of jackasses, the area had a comfortable setup. A semi-circle of old lawn
chairs surrounded a burn pit. They even cleared all the brush and rocks for
bigger gatherings that happened during summer and school vacations. It was the
spot kids went to escape, lose their virginity, or hide from drunken parents–a
trailer park paradise.
I slumped
in the middle chair, letting the tinkling stream help clear my mind. We had to
get away, and if Mom didn't snap out of it, our plans were as good as gone.
Not to
mention everything else going wrong, stuff that was too crazy to be real.
Dimensions? Wardens? Protectors? And I'm supposed to be some sort of energy
Guide–or was in a past life? I still refused to discount the idea that I might
be suffering from schizophrenia. All the symptoms were there.
And
Tarek? His image popped in my head and warmth seeped through the morning chill,
reaching my cheeks, my stomach. Him was real?
I
scooped a handful of pebbles and flung them into the stream. Wilma had better
come back soon. Crazy or not, I needed answers, and trying to come up with them
on my own created more questions.
One last
handful of pebbles, and I stood, stretching my muscles.
Shit.
Just, shit.
Maybe I'd
head to school, check the parking lot. If Jake wasn't there waiting for another
bag, I'd go to the theater until school ended. I didn't have anywhere else to
go. Pathetic.
Branches
snapping in the thick brush didn't bother me while I followed the path to
school. But when the sound became uniform as though someone marched across
firecrackers, fear tugged my skin .
The fear
pissed me off, seeing as what could happen if I let it take over. But there
wasn't anything coming out of the ground, trying to pull me through. No odd
breeze or pulls interrupted the atmosphere. That assurance calmed my fear to
tolerable levels. Maybe someone else decided to take the day off, too.
I picked
up speed. The school–with people–would be the best place to go, just in case I
was wrong. The faster I walked, the quicker the branch cracking grew behind me.
I veered directions toward a clearer path and pulled off my backpack. The
muscles in my legs twitched with anticipation.
"Don't
even try." Hot breath tickled my ear, paralyzing my feet. "You could
never outrun me."
That
rich voice, like velvet, pushed through the short hair around my ear. I'd heard
it in dreams, but the reality of the sound reached deep parts of my brain,
triggering ghosts of feelings so strong, they almost buckled my knees.
I
turned, hoping he wasn't a figment of my psychotic imagination. But there he was,
all six and a half feet. His eyes shined as silver as the moon and the blond
hair brushing his shoulders was as tangible as my own skin. "You're real."
His
large palm cupped my cheek, and a smile curled the edges of his mouth. "Of
course I am."
My hand
covered his, squeezing and kneading his warm fingers. We stood there, in the
middle
I
ignored him, watching my mother for any sign of comprehension. Her face, blank
and empty except for that hollow smile, showed nothing. "Mom?"
A glimmer
of understanding cleared her eyes, but as soon as Dad stood to touch her
shoulder, the vacant stare returned. "Everything's fine, honey. Hungry?"
My dad's
hands no longer shook, and his eyes were clear and lucid. "Mom's been
touched by God, peanut. Isn't it wonderful?"
∞ ∞ ∞
When the
bus chugged to a stop, I stayed in the back of the line, waiting for the ten
kids ahead to take their sweet-ass time climbing the steps. The thought of
facing Zander made me glad I'd skipped food. I couldn't deal with him, didn't
want to.
Nope, school
was the last place I needed to go.
The last
three people before me made their way on the bus, and I slid behind the collage
of mailboxes. As soon as the thing huffed down the road, I jogged into the
woods, not stopping until I reached the place near the stream where the
potheads congregated for their nightly high.
For a
bunch of jackasses, the area had a comfortable setup. A semi-circle of old lawn
chairs surrounded a burn pit. They even cleared all the brush and rocks for
bigger gatherings that happened during summer and school vacations. It was the
spot kids went to escape, lose their virginity, or hide from drunken parents–a
trailer park paradise.
I slumped
in the middle chair, letting the tinkling stream help clear my mind. We had to
get away, and if Mom didn't snap out of it, our plans were as good as gone.
Not to
mention everything else going wrong, stuff that was too crazy to be real.
Dimensions? Wardens? Protectors? And I'm supposed to be some sort of energy
Guide–or was in a past life? I still refused to discount the idea that I might
be suffering from schizophrenia. All the symptoms were there.
And
Tarek? His image popped in my head and warmth seeped through the morning chill,
reaching my cheeks, my stomach. Him was real?
I
scooped a handful of pebbles and flung them into the stream. Wilma had better
come back soon. Crazy or not, I needed answers, and trying to come up with them
on my own created more questions.
One last
handful of pebbles, and I stood, stretching my muscles.
Shit.
Just, shit.
Maybe I'd
head to school, check the parking lot. If Jake wasn't there waiting for another
bag, I'd go to the theater until school ended. I didn't have anywhere else to
go. Pathetic.
Branches
snapping in the thick brush didn't bother me while I followed the path to
school. But when the sound became uniform as though someone marched across
firecrackers, fear tugged my skin .
The fear
pissed me off, seeing as what could happen if I let it take over. But there
wasn't anything coming out of the ground, trying to pull me through. No odd
breeze or pulls interrupted the atmosphere. That assurance calmed my fear to
tolerable levels. Maybe someone else decided to take the day off, too.
I picked
up speed. The school–with people–would be the best place to go, just in case I
was wrong. The faster I walked, the quicker the branch cracking grew behind me.
I veered directions toward a clearer path and pulled off my backpack. The
muscles in my legs twitched with anticipation.
"Don't
even try." Hot breath tickled my ear, paralyzing my feet. "You could
never outrun me."
That
rich voice, like velvet, pushed through the short hair around my ear. I'd heard
it in dreams, but the reality of the sound reached deep parts of my brain,
triggering ghosts of feelings so strong, they almost buckled my knees.
I
turned, hoping he wasn't a figment of my psychotic imagination. But there he was,
all six and a half feet. His eyes shined as silver as the moon and the blond
hair brushing his shoulders was as tangible as my own skin. "You're real."
His
large palm cupped my cheek, and a smile curled the edges of his mouth. "Of
course I am."
My hand
covered his, squeezing and kneading his warm fingers. We stood there, in the
middle
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