What had woken her? A scream. Her own scream. One word cutting through the blinding light and ringing clearly into the night. One word filled with all the pain, all the loss, all the hurt that one person could bear. Her own ravaged voice, desperate to bring back the one thing that meant everything to her, the one thing that would enable her to survive.
“Isaac!”
9. Preparation
By the time she got out of her physics lab, the last thing Alessa wanted to do was hang up flyers for the party. She had slept fitfully after that terrifying dream, unable to shake her anxiety until the first rays of dawn peeked through her bedroom window. When she’d finally fallen back asleep, there had only been a couple hours until morning, and though she couldn’t remember any other dreams, she suspected that those feelings of panic and dread had chased her through the remainder of the night.
The worst part was that she hadn’t even been able to talk to anyone about it. Janie unfortunately was assigned to a different lab session, so Alessa was forced to work with a stranger to complete the day’s experiment. Mercifully, her partner took charge of manning the motion sensor and calculating the coefficient of restitution while Alessa stood on her stool and mindlessly bounced the basketball, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
She spent most of the lab mulling over what the dream might mean and why it had affected her so deeply. By that point she had already lost most of the details, so she focused on piecing the major elements together. Trapped, with the ghost, terror, sorrow, Isaac. It did sort of make sense when she broke it down.
Feeling trapped seemed to be one of the overriding themes of her life right now, in a variety of ways. Trapped at this school, trapped into participating in the sorority’s nonsense, trapped in this world without her parents to guide her. She was even almost physically trapped whenever she saw the ghost lately, unable to move her feet. Yes, trapped was a feeling she was familiar with, and it was only logical that her subconscious might surface this feeling as literally being trapped in some kind of small recess.
The ghost had obviously also been a major player in her life lately. She’d been devoting most of her mental resources towards thinking about him – who he is, what he’s feeling, why he’s here – or trying to recover after he ransacked her emotional state. And there was always that strange yearning she felt to be close to him. That might have emerged in the dream as their physical closeness, being squeezed in that small place together, holding hands even.
The feelings of fear and despair also made sense. After all, she had just experienced these emotions both very acutely during her last encounter with the ghost, which was only a few days ago. And unfortunately those feelings were applicable to other parts of her life as well – the death of her parents, for example.
And the Isaac thing wasn’t exactly inexplicable either. She had three names – Isaac, Albert, William – who were possibilities, so her mind just must have chosen one. Maybe she had latched onto Isaac since Janie had commented on it being an attractive name.
When she considered all this together, it also explained why she felt so unnerved by the dream. There were a lot of unexpected things going on in her life and a lot of emotional turmoil surrounding them. The dream had taken all those messy feelings and boxed them up into a neat little narrative, forcing Alessa to face all the negative emotions she’d been trying to suppress. Of course she would feel disturbed after having to face that head on, without any warning, in a dead sleep no less.
Alessa felt better after giving the dream some thought, but that didn’t change the fact that she had lost hours of rest to its aftermath, and now she was tired. When her lab was over all she wanted to do was go home and take a nap, but instead she was obligated to deal with the flyers.
She trudged from the science building to Van Husen Hall, flyers in hand, half-heartedly thrusting one toward whomever she happened to pass. Inside Van Husen, she tacked a flyer to the bulletin board on the main floor and also the one in the basement café. She asked the student behind the register if it was okay to leave a stack of flyers on the counter, a request he cheerfully obliged while also pocketing a flyer himself. Having distributed half of her stack, Alessa decided that it was a good time for a break.
It was nearing lunchtime and Alessa of course had not eaten breakfast, so she decided to pick up a cup of soup from the vat in the corner of the café. Remembering the pathetic contents of her fridge, she also grabbed a handful of items to restock it – apples, individually wrapped cheeses, a pint of milk, and a box of cereal. Now at least she wouldn’t have an excuse for not eating.
She paid for the items and took a seat at one of the small round tables to eat her soup. It was a thick, almost gelatinous chicken noodle that was lacking in vegetables and – she knew from prior experience – heavily salted and far too hot. She stirred to release some heat, then crushed a packet of complimentary crackers into the soup and sampled a spoonful, lightly burning the back of her throat as she swallowed. The bland crackers had done what she'd hoped and absorbed at least some of the salt flavor. It was passable. What more could she expect from Van Husen?
After finishing her pitiable lunch, Alessa decided to take a lap around the quad to distribute her remaining flyers. There were a few covered bulletin boards staked at odd intervals around the green along with a plethora of lampposts and, of course, mounting poles for the university’s ubiquitous security cameras. Even if Alessa didn’t pass a single soul as she lapped the quad, she should still be able to finish off her stack. It was technically prohibited to post flyers anywhere except on university-approved spaces like the bulletin boards, but in practice it was done all the time. Alessa was eager to get rid of her flyers and get home for a quick rest before her afternoon history lecture, so she decided to risk it. Anyway, she didn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity who looked official enough to reprimand her.
She headed for the bulletin board on the south end of the quad near the library. On her way she passed a group of three female students and handed them each a flyer with a perfunctory, “Party Saturday.” She remembered Lizzie’s admonition to invite “…lots of boys. Cute boys,” and felt a small pang of guilt. Oh well. Was it her fault that all of the cute boys were apparently in class during her only flyering opportunity?
Reaching the bulletin board, she dropped the strap of her backpack from one shoulder and swung the bag forward to where she could reach the front pockets, withdrawing the stapler and tape from the larger compartment. She righted her backpack and held a flyer against the bulletin board, securing it in place with the stapler. Taking a quick glance around to make sure no one was looking, Alessa reshuffled some of the other printouts on the board to slightly obscure the flyer she’d just posted. The fewer people who showed up to this party the better.
Alessa headed toward a lamppost about ten yards past the bulletin board. She taped a flyer at eye level, then crossed the cobblestone path toward a camera pole another ten yards away. Alessa worked her way in a loop around the quad, crisscrossing the path as she encountered any surface she could stick a flyer to. There were only a handful of other students out and she made sure to give flyers to them as well.
At last Alessa was down to one final printout. She surveyed the quad and was satisfied with the job she’d done. A little too satisfied, in fact – her subtle attempts at sabotage stood no chance against the barrage of colorful papers waving in the brisk fall breeze as far as the eye could see. It actually looked rather festive with all that pink, yellow, and blue.
Alessa turned to the mounted camera beside her, staring quizzically into the lens as she approached the base. She wondered if anyone was actually watching. There had to be thousands of hours of footage logged across the absurd number of cameras on campus – too much to actually review in its entirety. She decided the university was probably just storing all the recordings in a vault somewhere in case one was ever needed for another lawsuit. Once again, Alessa mused that the whole practice really seemed unnecessary
. Unnecessary and unnerving.
Reaching the camera mount, Alessa tore off an inch of tape and held her only remaining flyer against the pole. She pressed the tape down and was about to release a satisfied sigh when she heard a deep male voice behind her.
“Excuse me, miss. This is a violation of university policy. I’m going to have to ask you to remove that.”
Alessa swore under her breath. She’d never heard of anyone actually getting in trouble for flyering. Of course she had to be the first. She prepared her best perplexed face – she had decided her best option was to feign ignorance – and turned around to face her accuser.
She was surprised to find not the burly university official she was expecting, but a student. In fact, he was what Lizzie Green would have called, “a cute boy,” which Alessa thought was probably an understatement. He was tall and dark and – oh, she hated to say it – handsome, with neat black hair and deep brown eyes. He flashed a mischievous white smile which glowed against his tan skin.
He introduced himself in a slightly higher octave than before. “Nikhil. Sorry to scare you. I couldn’t help myself.” He gestured at the expanse of the quad, the multicolored papers seemingly adorning every available surface. “Is this all your handiwork?”
Alessa laughed sheepishly. Was this attractive guy really flirting with her? It’d been a while since that had happened – she flushed as she tried to think of something clever to say in response. “Yeah, that was all me.” Fantastic.
Nikhil smiled nonetheless. “So, will you be at this party –” he paused expectantly, motioning towards her with his hand.
Alessa picked up on his meaning. “Alessa. And yes, I will absolutely be there.” Ugh, so boring! She tried to make up for her inadequate banter with a smile, a real one for once.
“All right then, I’ll have to look for you.” He flashed that smile again and Alessa’s grin brightened. “So do you have any more of those left?” He indicated the pink flyer she’d just hung.
Alessa quickly peeled it off the pole and held it out to him. “Why don’t you take this one? You’ll save me from adding yet another infraction to my colorful record.” He laughed. Finally she’d come up with something worthwhile.
Nikhil folded up the paper and slipped it into his pocket. With a coy smile he turned to go, locking eyes with her one last time. “See you tomorrow, Alessa.”
“Bye,” she replied, unable to wipe the goofy grin from her face as he sauntered down the path away from her. Perhaps this party wouldn’t be so bad after all.
10. Preening
The next evening, Alessa found herself staring critically at her own reflection in the full-length mirror that was affixed to her closet door. It’d been over a year since she’d last devoted more than minimal effort to her appearance, and unfortunately one enthusiastic hour of preening could not quite make up for all that neglect.
She stepped closer to the mirror, squeezing gently at her skin with her fingertips. One by one the little bits of goo popped to the surface and she wiped them away with a tissue. Satisfied with her efforts, she stood back to observe the results. She was mildly horrified by the splotchy mess she’d made of her face, but she figured the redness would subside in the hour before people started arriving for the party. Hopefully.
Alessa had spent the last 24 hours anticipating the upcoming party in a way that she hadn’t felt about anything lately. She supposed it was due to Nikhil and his promise to seek her out that evening. She thought about his dark almond-shaped eyes and warm smile, his broad shoulders and unmistakable air of confidence. For the first time in months, she felt slightly giddy.
She had spent much of the day replaying her short conversation with Nikhil over and over in her mind, grimacing at her lack of charisma. She thought about how she could have responded better – should she have been more coy? More witty? More playful? She knew she was probably overthinking it, but she was determined to be mentally prepared to turn on the charm the next time she got the opportunity.
She wanted to feel confident tonight, but her recent lack of practice conversing with the opposite sex made her wary. Even before everything had happened with her parents, she’d always found herself clamming up around guys, remaining quiet when she was usually outspoken. As someone who usually felt relatively self-assured and in control, she found her inability to act normally around guys extremely frustrating. And in the past year, it’d only gotten worse. She’d hoped she would feel better tonight if she looked better, so she had spent the last hour conducting a mini-makeover to boost her spirits.
Overall, her plan had somewhat succeeded. Alessa at least had to admit that she could be much worse off. Her skin had always been less prone to blemishes than that of most teenagers, so her complexion was still relatively clear even after months of neglect. She could have used a little more exfoliation in all that time, but she’d done her best to make up for it with a vigorous scrubbing earlier that evening and her skin glowed faintly as a result.
Being out of practice with makeup, she’d kept her beauty routine minimal – just a heavy coat of mascara, a thin stroke of eyeliner, and a swipe of shimmer eye shadow in a neutral beige tone. Though the technique was simple, the result was actually rather striking. Her bright green eyes smoldered and were the obvious focal point of her face.
Which was fortunate, since she was in desperate need of a haircut. Regrettably she hadn’t thought of it until well after the nearest salon had closed, so instead she’d taken extra care in blow drying her long layers into smooth, shiny tresses. The blowout helped to hide most of her split ends and she was reasonably certain that no one else would notice the damage. From a distance, her hair actually looked glossier than she remembered it ever being. Perhaps all those months away from heated styling tools had done some good.
Alessa curled her fingertips and held them up to her face for a closer look. Her nails, as usual, were bitten down to nothing and her cuticles were peeling from dryness. She certainly didn’t have the time – or the patience – to polish them this close to the start of the party, so she turned instead to the fireplace mantle where she had stashed a bottle of lotion next to her hairbrush and makeup bag. Squeezing some into her hands, she massaged it into her fingertips. Better already.
Alessa turned back to her closet and groaned. Clothes were going to be the most difficult part. She hadn’t bought anything new since before her parents died, even though she’d dropped a good 15 pounds in the interim. She unfolded a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and slipped into them. They bunched unflatteringly in the back and hung lower on her hips than intended. At one time, Alessa had been thin but curvy, a tall well-muscled athlete with a strong yet feminine physique. Now she was more angular than anything, and she found herself missing the rounded behind she’d once cursed.
She tried another pair of jeans, old ones that she had not worn much after accidentally shrinking them in the dryer a few years ago. They fit a bit more snugly than the last pair and were definitely more flattering in the rear. She decided to stick with these, as she didn’t have many more options in the denim department.
Alessa wasn’t sure what kind of top to wear. She’d normally put on a light sweater at this time of year, but with hundreds of people crowding into the house, it was bound to be warmer than she was used to. She pulled out a sleeveless printed blouse that was fitted around the waist and slipped it over her head. It hung loosely from her shoulders like a sack, the cinched waist doing nothing to improve the appearance. No good. Alessa stripped it off and tossed it on the bed.
Working her way through half the tops in her closet, Alessa found fault with each one in turn. Too boring, too loose, too old, too frumpy. The pile of discarded shirts on the bed grew. She let out an exasperated sigh as the rhythmic bass from the stereo system downstairs started to bump through the floor. Guests would be arriving any minute.
There was a knock at the door and Janie poked her head in.
“Hey, are you almost –” she paused midsentence a
s she took in the mound of clothes on the bed, “…ready…” she trailed off. Janie sniffed the air with a small twitch of her nose and considered for a moment.
Suddenly her face lit up as it dawned on her what Alessa had been up to. “Perfume… makeup… clothes… Oh my God, you met a guy!”
Alessa smiled abashedly. “Guilty.”
“Ooooh!” Janie squealed. “What’s his name? Where did you meet him? When did this happen? And why haven’t you told me about this yet?!” Janie was spewing questions faster than Alessa could take them in.
Alessa laughed. “Okay, okay… slow down! His name is Nikhil and I met him yesterday while flyering on the quad.”
Janie clapped with excitement. “And is he cute?” She drew out the last word for emphasis.
“Very.”
Janie laughed and clapped her hands some more. Alessa blushed. Practically skipping to Alessa’s side, Janie crossed the room and stood facing the mirror alongside her. “So what are you going to wear? I hope not that…” She scowled with disdain at the cheap sequined tank top Alessa had on at the moment. “It’s skank-a-licious.”
Alessa laughed and shook her head. “I honestly don’t know what to wear. I have nothing!” She motioned at the pile on her bed.
Janie held up the first few shirts off the top of the heap and eyed them critically. “I see what you mean.” Tossing the shirts back into the pile, she blurted, “Hold on a minute,” and dashed from the room.
A moment later, Janie returned carrying an emerald green v-neck tee in a smooth thin cotton. “I know it’s just a t-shirt, but the fit is really nice and since we have similar coloring, I think it would work on you. Actually, with your eyes, the color might just be perfect. Try it on.” She tossed the shirt in Alessa’s direction.
Stitch (Stitch Trilogy, Book 1) Page 6
