by Ami Urban
The old woman who had approached me was no one I recognized.
But all the same, she grabbed my wrist and tugged me away from Julian and Kevin who were too busy looking for their bags to notice I had left.
“I just wanted to tell you that you are one lucky lady,” she said. Her glasses slipped down her narrow nose as she winked at me.
“Do I know you?” I tried to fight the terror building inside me. I couldn’t trust anyone anymore. To me, everybody was a wraith until proven otherwise.
“No, but I know enough about you to fill a book. You see, I was on your flight. And the whole time, I was sitting next to a delightful young man named—”
“Katie!”
I jerked, retracting my wrist from the woman’s death claw, and looking into Kevin’s grave face as he stood over me.
“Everything all right here?” He eyed me first, then the old lady.
“Everything was all right, young man. As this beautiful lady’s uncle, you should know better.”
“Uncle?” I swung my gaze around to meet hers again.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Kevin tugged me away from her.
We were hurrying toward the entrance with Julian in tow when she called, “What you’re doing is immoral! She should be allowed to choose on her own! Marvin is a good boy!”
“Marvin?” I asked to the empty field across from an enormous, historic, red building.
Who was Marvin?
Was it just a case of mistaken identity or…or what? And why was I spending so much time thinking about it?
If I wasn’t careful, Kevin would hear my thoughts and have a talk with me.
“You must be dwelling on it because that woman was responsible for your strange feelings aboard the plane,” a voice said from behind me.
I jumped and spun around to face Julian with my fists balled at my sides.
“Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?”
He was leaning against a stone sign that read Randall Park with a smug smile on his thin, dark face. “Well, I can’t very well appear when you’re looking.”
“And why not?” I hitched my backpack higher onto my shoulder.
How I loathed backpacks.
“Your human brain couldn’t handle it.”
“Oh, really?” I challenged. “I’ve seen it done on TV a million times and haven’t gone crazy.”
“Of course. But it was never real, was it? And you knew it wasn’t real. Otherwise, your tiny head would have exploded.”
“Tiny head?”
He laughed.
“Well…what about kids?”
“What about them?” he asked.
My posture slouched. My energy was already starting to fade from the constant Julian battle.
“Well, kids believe a lot of the stuff they see on TV, and their brains don’t explode.”
“Of course not. Children use more of their imagination that adults do. They also use different areas of the brain until puberty,” he said.
“That’s sort of an unfair advantage, isn’t it?” I picked at a loose thread on the hem of my white, long-sleeved shirt.
He shrugged, but had nothing more to offer to the conversation.
“So…you can only appear behind my back?”
“That’s right.” His eyes twinkled with what looked like mischief.
“Well, quit it.”
“How do you expect me to assist if I can’t show myself?”
“Use the damn door like normal people!”
He rolled his eyes.
“Fine. But don’t put the blame on me when you need assistance and I can’t be there in an instant because you want me to use…the door.”
“Somehow I think that kind of blame is the least you have to worry about with me.” I sneered.
“Over here! I got it!”
Something warm and breathing slammed into me at a run. I nearly toppled over, but regained my balance by pushing both hands out like an umpire calling a strike.
Two teenage boys ran past me snickering. But the third—the one who’d almost bowled me over—stayed behind. He had a football in the crook of his arm.
This, I’d assumed, was what he meant by “I got it!”
“Sorry. You all right?”
I looked up at him. He was beautiful—messy blond hair, straight nose, blue-green eyes. Why did he seem familiar?
I cleared my throat. “Fine…”
“Hey… Are you the new girl?”
I shrugged. “Temporarily.”
“Cool. I’m Martin. Martin Krane.” He held out his hand, but I didn’t take it.
How could I? I was too busy in the midst of another memory flash. Damn, they were getting annoying.
As I stared at him, I started to remember something about those eyes. Or was it the hair? Or the smile?
The memory started to fade. I shook my head, trying to keep it intact, but the action only caused it to drop out.
Why would he induce a memory?
“You sure you okay?” He seemed so worried. Why? I was still the same, plain, boring Katie Bunny. A name change and a few highlights didn’t change the fact that my favorite movie was A Clockwork Orange and I’d never kissed a guy in all my sixteen years. No one cared about that girl. She was a loser, an outcast.
“Fine,” I said. “I’m Kathleen Bruner.”
He watched me for a few more seconds. Then, what seemed like a reluctant smile crossed his face. “Well, hey, there, Kathleen. Welcome.”
“Thanks...” My heart was pounding in the presence of such a striking fellow.
Listen to yourself, Katie, I thought. Striking fellow? Julian must have been putting thoughts in my head.
Crap. I’d forgotten about Julian.
I spun around on my heel, focusing on the stone sign he’d been leaning against. But Julian was no longer there. A cool breeze picked up, blowing stands of hair into my face. The leaves on the trees rustled noisily.
“He’s gone again…” I muttered.
“Who?”
I turned back to Martin. I’d almost forgotten how gorgeous he was even though I’d just been facing him.
“The guy that was with me.”
He frowned. A cute little wrinkle creased into his forehead and a strange feeling came over me.
Something about it seemed familiar.
“I didn’t see anyone with you.”
Great. Thanks a lot, Julian. I was starting off on a perfect note. I hadn’t even set foot in the school, and I was already crazy.
“Hey, Martin!”
The other two kids were waving like lunatics from across the street. Martin hollered that he was coming. Then, he turned back to me. I held my breath.
“Well, duty calls.” He smirked and my heart beat even harder. “I’ll see ya around. You need any help, just ask. Maybe I can show you around later.”
“’Kay,” I said.
He looked at me. I tried to figure out what he was thinking, but it proved fruitless.
Sometimes I wished being a Siren meant reading minds. But then, he put up some sort of defense and smiled.
“Bye.”
I watched him run across the street and high-five his buddies. They talked, he gestured vaguely at me, and the other two glanced my way. My cheeks burned. Hopefully they didn’t notice.
I took a deep breath. Now or never.
Stepping off the curb, I looked both ways for traffic.
I had to register at the office, so I came toward the end of the school day. Classes were still in session, and not much was going on.
The school looked like an old-style boarding house. Or a courthouse. I swore I was in Philadelphia. It was red with fancy white trim—three stories and the façade sported little pointy ramparts like a castle.
I marched across the large expanse of grass and through the double doors.
The halls were quiet, clean, and empty. The office was easy to find. And as soon as I stepped inside, th
ey directed me to the right place.
I was given a schedule of classes, two uniforms (ick), and a warm welcome.
I’d moved around a lot when I was younger, so a different school was nothing new. I wasn’t nervous about it, seeing as I wouldn’t be there long enough for it to matter.
As I left the office, I stepped out into the hall, looking around to gather my feelings.
At Dublin High, I felt like an outcast.
I just couldn’t wait to graduate so I could get away from teenage awkwardness and get a job. Or a boyfriend.
Preferably both.
Woodrow Wilson High School was no different.
I felt like a stranger. I didn’t belong there. I was different. I was a Siren. I wondered how many students had rare souls; if they knew they had rare souls.
The bell rang, and chaos broke loose.
Students poured into the halls as the doors opened.
I flinched at the volume of sound as hundreds of teenagers talked, gossiped, shuffled papers, and shouted at each other. Once my ears stopped bleeding (figuratively), I opened my eyes.
The entire horde was watching me as it passed. What the heck were they looking at?
Oh, yeah, I wasn’t wearing a uniform.
Everyone else was wearing a gray vest with a white shirt and either gray slacks or a pleated skirt. I was the only one in jeans and sneakers. So much for lying low. They could all tell I was fresh meat as soon as they saw me.
For the second time in the span of an hour, someone shoved into me. The stupid kid hadn’t been watching where he was going as he rough-housed with his friend.
My backpack and its entire contents spilled onto the floor.
At first, the kid stared at me with wide, dark eyes. But after a moment, he grinned, guffawed, and walked away.
“Your parents must be so proud,” I said as I stooped to pick up my things.
Students walked past without a word. They gawked, but didn’t offer any assistance. Oh, yeah. That’s why I hated high school!
Once the halls cleared and lockers had been slammed, I finished stuffing the last of my crap back into my backpack. Then, I headed out the front doors.
Students littered the grass. Some of them were doing homework, others talking in groups, still others playing keep away with the nerds. Hadn’t that died in the nineties?
I heard a commotion behind me and spun around.
A big-mouthed blond was coming toward me on spindly legs I didn’t think could support her weight at all. As her and her group of friends (seven in all) descended the steps, I knew it was her.
Although I’d seen pictures of Serena Gibbons before my assignment, I wouldn’t have recognized her anyway.
She’d bleached her normally red hair, dark sunglasses covered her gray eyes, and she was wearing a ton of makeup.
And the only reason I knew her was because she had been marked.
I couldn’t have told anyone what that meant, either. I didn’t know at the time, and I still don’t.
There were no physical scars or wounds on her body, yet she bared the mark of someone who was going to die.
I stayed put, keeping her and her friends well within my sights. She stopped and her friends kept going for a few feet. But then they ceased to watch her pull a cell phone from her purse. She was coming closer now, barking orders into the phone at whoever was stupid enough to “talk to her that way.” Her friends laughed.
We crossed paths, and our eyes locked. At least, I thought they did.
She turned and looked at me, but I couldn’t see anything behind those dark glasses. She did stop talking to whoever was on the phone, though. Time stopped for the two of us for at least half a second.
Then, I offered her a weak smile, but she ignored it and continued walking with her clique.
But when they reached the street, she stumbled on her three-inch stilettos, dropping her cell phone into the gutter and blasting a particularly horrible English curse. What it translated to, I have no idea.
But the phone seemed to have a mind of its own. It skittered out of her reach and into the street.
“Bloody hell! Marcus, hold on!” She stepped off the curb without looking.
She didn’t even notice the huge, yellow school bus headed straight for her.
I turned around at the last second, squeezing my eyes shut as the bus blared its horn, hit something with a wet smack, and a girl screamed.
Originally, I’d thought the sickening feeling in my stomach was from sheer horror. But when I opened my eyes again, I realized that wasn’t it at all.
Cars on the street were driving backward like a strange movie filmed in reverse. Students were walking the wrong way, their movements unreal.
This had only happened to me once before.
Before I died the second time, a wraith I had come to know as Wizzlespoons stopped time.
She was trying to get my soul, but I was lucky to have had Kevin with me. He towed me off after banishing her. I think.
But once time started again, things had to speed up so they could go back to normal.
The feeling was overwhelming—like being on a rollercoaster after eating a bucket of greasy popcorn.
This time it was a little different, because the people were moving backward.
See, when someone died and got a second chance at life, the afterlifers had to rewind time to the point before it happened so you could correct it. If you’ve ever had déjà vu, that’s why.
As far as I could tell, I was still moving in my own timeline. And when Serena passed me going the wrong way, her head turned to look at me. She was alive and well.
It seemed weird at the time, and I felt a strong pull in my gut.
She stuffed her phone back into her purse and walked a few more backward paces before time corrected itself. I stayed put, and so did she.
When everything went back to normal, she just stood there—ignoring her ringing phone—looking as though she wanted to throw up. Her friends continued walking as if nothing ever happened. I almost laughed—remembering the day I had come back to life. But instead, I approached her and held out a hand.
“Hi, Serena, I’m Kathleen. I’m here to help.”
Her friends turned and noticed me talking to her. They gathered around in a big puddle of bodies.
“Reenie?” One of the asked in a tiny, southern voice. “You okay?”
“What’s wrong?”
“What happened?”
“Who are you?”
That question was directed at me. I looked into the dark eyes of a tall, formidable girl who exuded more testosterone than estrogen.
She wasn’t manly in any way. But something about the glower in her eyes told me she could break me half with her pinky if she wanted.
“I’m the exchange student, Kathleen. I thought I could—”
“What?” she said. “Make friends? Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree, new girl. Get lost.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is it illegal to make friends in Texas?”
Her nostrils flared like a dragon. She opened her mouth and I expected fire. And I got it—verbal gunpowder.
“Maybe they don’t have normal laws in Canada, but here…” She spread her arms, indicating the school behind us. “This is Woodrow High. And at Woodrow High, people like you belong with people like that.”
She pointed over my shoulder. I turned to see the same set of senior classman still playing keep away from a poor overweight freshman.
“Oh, you’re one of those…” I turned back around to face her. She sneered, and I swore the day grew darker.
“Excuse me?” She stepped close to me, invading my space.
Serena’s other friends closed in. I could feel my control slipping as claustrophobia set in. But all the same, I felt like I wanted to give her a piece of my mind. So, I opened my mouth and…
“All right, girls, break it up!”
I threw my head back and groaned as Kevin pushed his way into the group. He cl
apped his hands.
“Come on. Scatter.”
The evil girl gave me one last glare as the crowd dissipated. I rolled my eyes in her direction and muttered, “Go back to Forever 21.”
“You okay, Katie?” Kevin asked.
I put my hands out. “I’m fine! I can do this by myself!”
He nodded, looking over my shoulder. “Well, then, you better catch Serena.”
I turned on my heel just as my assignment was shakily walking toward the curb again.
Down the street, the big yellow school bus was hurtling around the corner. I made a move in her direction, but Kevin caught my backpack and held me in place.
“Serena Gibbons!” he called.
I sighed, biting my tongue. I was totally capable of doing it on my own! Serena turned and stared at us. Her friends did the same.
“Come with me, please.” Kevin beckoned with one finger. “I’d like to talk to you about the dress code.”
Serena’s friends went into a frenzy of insults like spitting camels. In three quick strides, Kevin approached her, grabbed her purse straps, and hauled her back through the school doors.
I swallowed hard, gave one last look at her scary friends, and stalked after them just as the bus pulled to a stop at the curb.
Kevin pulled his new classroom door open and we piled inside.
Once he’d shut it behind us, Serena stood in the middle of the room like she didn’t know what to do.
“Serena?” I asked delicately.
She turned to look at me, her eyes wide in surprise. Kevin put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got something to take care of. You okay with this?”
I nodded. I’d been okay with it from the start. “Go ahead.” It wasn’t until he’d left and his footsteps could no longer be heard that I spoke again. “Sorry about that, he’s a little protective of me.”
Serena said nothing, only stared at me.
I cleared my throat. “Anyway, as I was saying earlier, my name’s Katie Bunny. I’m here to help you.” I offered her a warm smile.
“Help?” she finally said. “I think I’m gonna need more than the help of some random stranger on the street to get rid of the hallucination I just had.” She had a grating accent.
I wasn’t sure what part of England she was from, but the words “think” and “of” came out as “fink” and “ov.”
