by Dawn Brazil
Finding Me
Dawn Brazil
Copyright © 2014 by Dawn Brazil. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
The weirdest day of my existence started with a kiss.
My mouth fell open and I stumbled into the closest locker as I scrambled to stay hidden from view. Zack, my supposed-to-be boyfriend, had his lips locked with Casey’s, my supposed-to-be friend. I pressed my mouth into my cupped hands to quiet the laughter that erupted from me.
I couldn’t have cared less who he kissed. Or her for that matter. My relationship with Zack was built around a lie. The lie: my mother loved me. She didn’t. She only wanted what was best for her. And what was best for her was people believing I was dating Zack. Family dynamics of the rich were confusing, but one thing was clear – the rich dated the rich. Period.
I still had an issue with the concept. But that wasn’t exactly public information. Prim and proper, I stayed in my place.
As I ceased my laughing fit, I spun to find Zack and Casey standing before me. Oh! I whirled around in the opposite direction. Zack caught my hand, pushed me into the closest locker, and narrowed his eyes. He lowered his head to mine. “We need to talk. Now.” He whispered. I glanced at Casey. Her face was slack with no emotion. Umm. Weird much? She stood bone straight with her head bent, and her eyes on Zack. Like she was locked in a trance.
What’s her problem? And why is he angry? With me?
Anger ripped through me and silenced any humor I’d found in our awkward situation.
I tried to suppress it, to push it back. But it was palpable and fueled by his reaction. To calm myself, I took a deep breath. I bit my bottom lip and tore my eyes away from him. That was when it registered.
The silence.
It was deafening.
The normal clank of heels hitting the floor or melody of someone’s cell phone was non- existent. There were no classmates hunched in groups telling secrets and whispering lies. Only an abyss of silence.
And of course, Zack, standing over me, scowling. Maybe I should have turned and bolted in the opposite direction. Zack wasn’t patient. He wouldn’t wait for me to contemplate a response to him kissing Casey.
I forced my eyes upward. My mind cascaded over all the things I could say. I knew I shouldn’t allow him to bully me. My thoughts scattered, the right words slipped away. “I…no…you are not–”
My head jerked back suddenly, casting a dozen sparkling stars across my eyes, and a bolt of electricity shot up my spine. The zap was so intense, I stumbled, face-first to the floor. The fall should have thrown me to the smooth, dry surface of the wood floor of the school hallway.
It didn’t.
My hands met moisture. My eyes bulged as I took in what lay beneath them: grass.
I lifted my head to scan the area, stunned to silence. A sea of green enveloped me. The urge to scream overpowered everything, but I fought it. I clasped my hands to my mouth to muffle the sound that escaped anyway.
The football field stretched before me.
How can I be here? This isn’t possible. I scrambled to my feet, spun around, and gazed at the school I’d been in moments ago. I shut my eyes tight. “Please let me be back in the school, about to have the biggest fight with Zack,” I said aloud.
My heart thrummed at my chest, but my eyes remained shut, afraid of what I might find once I dared a peek. But standing with them closed wasn’t an option. A crow cawed overhead to urge me on. My eyes sprang open. Confusion twisted away at my insides. Why was I still on the field? I swallowed back the lump in my throat and ran a shaky hand through my thick hair that continually blew into my face, obstructing my vision.
Straining against the glare of the midday sun, I tripped, my feet two cinderblocks in my boots. For late August, the Manhattan wind that kicked up seemed to scream winter and not fall. I tucked the unruly strands of hair, tossed about by the rebel wind, behind my ear and took another reluctant step forward. That was when I saw it. The crimson red thrust the emerald green of the field. The colors blended, reminding me of Freddy Krueger’s sweater in A Nightmare on Elm Street. There was a lot of blood in that movie. And I was pretty certain blood was the red part I saw on the field.
I gasped. My breath caught in my throat and the stench of copper invaded my nostrils. I fought against the urge to vomit, yet couldn’t contain the desire to move closer.
I’d never seen a dead body before.
After a few steps, my feet refused their forward motion. Fear raced slick and hot up my spine. The familiar face taunted me. It should; I knew it well. It belonged to Zack.
I fell to the ground near his body. Confused, emotions swirled. My heart raced and my stomach flipped. I leaned forward to grasp the rigid turf as a wave of nausea rocked my body. But I refused to look away.
I searched his open eyes, as dark and bleak as night, unable to comprehend what I saw. His gaze was blank. Two holes that lead to nothing but emptiness. I extended my hand to close them. Tears fell over my outstretched arm as I inched my hand toward him. Fear pierced my resolve. I tried to choke back the fear. It lingered.
Without warning, my body convulsed, like I’d been zapped with a Taser. Tiny needles pricked every inch of my skin. Then with a blink of darkness, the football field disappeared. I stood back in the school. Zack’s hand trembled on my side and the veins in his neck protruded. I’d never seen him this angry before. Casey, dressed in black, stood hunched beside him like a lump of coal with a grimace. All this…as if I’d never left.
Zack held me by the waist and I yanked free of his touch. I swallowed back the bile that rose up in my throat. I didn’t know what to think. Relief he wasn’t dead mingled with anger over his reaction to the kiss and the lunacy of being back in the school again. I searched his eyes. No doubt, he would think my reaction was a response to him kissing Casey a moment ago.
He’d be wrong.
He had been dead. How could he be here next to me now?
Normal. No blood, no injury.
Chapter 2
My mouth fell open. Twenty-six letters floated in my head, but I couldn’t piece them together to make sense. I backed away and hoped he wouldn’t pursue me. He did not give chase. Motionless, he watched. Casey, eyes wide, stood by his side.
As I raced into Ms. Springer’s first period class off the main corridor of the school, I bumped into two of my classmates and knocked their books to the floor. I threw a plaintive glance at them before I took my seat, third row, fourth down. Dang it! I should’ve run to the restroom. But no, I didn’t want a tardy slip. Could I be any lamer?
I didn’t want to touch anyone; I didn’t want to see any more. What
kind of a freak am I? I placed my chin on my folded arms and stared straight ahead, not daring a glance at anyone. My mind filled with trepidation and thoughts of the heavy locked doors of an asylum.
“Chloe, Chloe…?”
“Leave me alone!” Why was everyone always in everyone else’s business? If I wanted to go crazy today then that was my prerogative. One vision…dream, whatever the hell that was, shouldn’t make me crazy, though. Even if it was gruesome. Right?
Jennifer Riley stalked in front of me with her hands on her hips. “Chloe, what’s the matter with you?” I drew a blank. Words rambled in my head. What could I say? I knew what I saw wasn’t rational.
I buried my head in my folded arms to drown the intruding voices. Even my own.
Still, I could hear Jennifer standing firm in front of me.
“Chloe, please answer. Are you sick?”
This voice was different…it didn’t belong to Jennifer. I peeked over my folded arms to ascertain who spoke.
Ms. Graves, the school nurse, peered at me from above. I blinked at her, confused. Her shoulder-length jet-black hair was pulled back in a tight bun – odd, her hair is usually down. And she wore jeans and a red tee, not her customary pant suit. But it was irrelevant. I breathed a sigh of relief, happy for her presence. Anyone else and I wouldn’t talk.
I contemplated her question. Am I sick? One minute, I’m in front of Zack in the school, and the next I’m on the football field with his dead body sprawled before me. I hadn’t convinced myself sane people had visions of the living soaked in blood. Therefore, I couldn’t answer her question. But something had to be terribly wrong with me. I couldn’t have been dreaming. The wind blew on my face. You can’t feel the wind blow in a vision or a dream. Can you? And who has a dream standing up – wide awake?
I inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled. “I’m fine.” I had to convince her, without words, to get me out of here. I lifted my head to meet her eyes and opened my mouth. Then shut it immediately. What to say? I didn’t even know how to begin. Do I tell her what I think I saw
“Let’s go to my office,” she said. She reached down for me. With my head spinning, I grabbed her hand and hoisted myself from the seat.
What I’d hoped to avoid – seeing Zack’s face again anytime soon – happened just then.
He sat in his usual seat, closest to the door. He mouthed “sorry” as I made my way with Ms. Graves to the exit.
I slowed, eyeing him with disbelief. Confusion seeped through my usually precise façade. Ms. Graves tugged at my arm, propelling me forward. His face haunted me. “I saw you dead,” I whispered. Of course, he hadn’t heard. I stared at him again, confused. Had he been dead? What had I seen? I looked away, frightened I might see more.
We strolled out of the room with everyone gawking. Their whispers and stares were evidence they were trying to figure out what happened to Chloe Carmichael.
“Zack’s not dead,” I whispered to myself as I slipped across the threshold of the classroom and into the hall, “he’s sitting in class.” Get a grip, Carmichael.
“What?” Ms. Graves turned and stared at me. “I thought you said something.”
“I…sneezed. I said ‘bless me’. Um….habit.” She squinted her eyes, turned around, and continued walking. That was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever said. I’m such an idiot.
Ms. Graves didn’t say another word as she escorted me to her office. And I didn’t offer commentary on my behavior, though I knew I’d have to talk soon.
Once we reached her office, I crossed the room and sat on a cot reserved for sick students. I couldn’t say I fit into that category, but I laid back and tried to forget what had occurred anyway. To no avail – the image was carved into my mind and on constant replay.
With shaky hands, I clutched my purse. My hands shook so that the contents of my oversized bag rattled. I tucked my undisciplined hands beneath me as I sat up, unable to quiet my riotous thoughts. I peered over at Ms. Graves. Had she been eyeing me the entire time? I hope not.
My brother, Matt, told me once, “If you’re the only one who thinks you’re crazy then it’s possible you aren’t. But if you receive confirmation from another person that you’re crazy, then you are.” It’s simple. Right? You are or you aren’t. I knew I teetered close to the border of both and I didn’t need Ms. Graves confirming anything for me.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked. Nope.
“I – I…” I struggled with what to tell and what to keep hidden. Did I need her, the lone adult I could talk with, the one person who saw me as a real person, to think of me as insane? No. So I forced something from my mouth. “I saw Zack and Casey kissing this morning in the hall.”
“Oh.” She cast her eyes down and her brow creased in what I perceived as confusion.
Zack was my boyfriend – well, sort of. I wanted to break up with him after we graduated. Therefore, the cheating was inconsequential. However, our mothers, for their own selfish reasons, insisted on us dating. My cowardliness in full force, I wasn’t certain that breakup would ever take place. My mother loved him, which meant I had to also. Ms. Graves knew this, she knew quite a bit about me. But I wasn’t in a sharing mood now.
“Well, I can certainly understand your surprise at witnessing that. But…is that what is actually bothering you?”
“Yes, honestly…it is. I think…it…startled me. I felt…betrayed.” Unable to face her as I concocted my lies, I diverted my eyes like a chastised child. My hands shook in my lap. I clenched them together quickly. She could be so perceptive at times. I’d better make this more believable.
“And I feel sick.” I ran my hand along my abdomen for emphasis. “I think I may have eaten the wrong thing for breakfast.” I looked up at her from under my lashes to determine if she bought my story. I held my breath with anticipation.
She sat and stared at nothing for a moment, with her mouth twisted to one side. Her demeanor insinuated she was unmoved by my poor attempt at acting.
“Okay.” I hunched my shoulders, defeated. “Please, trust me when I say I can’t explain why I’m here. Not really… But believe me – it’s bad. Disturbing, even. I feel like I might vomit from the thought of it. May I please be excused to go home…please?”
She approached, unhurried. “Look at me, Chloe.” She shined her intrusive scope light in my eyes. “Open your mouth.” She peered down my throat. If she examined me that meant she believed me. Right? I hoped.
She didn’t speak further but stared at me with her brow creased. Her mocha eyes were squinted, their usual gentleness replaced by a haze of doubt. I fiddled with my oversized bag, with my manicured nails, and anything else within reach while she silently deliberated.
She sighed softly. “Sweetie, I know life can be difficult. I want you to remember that you can always come and talk to me. My door is always open for you. What we discuss is between the two of us, only.” She paused, maybe because she reasoned I might say something, confess the truth, or for dramatic effect. I wasn’t sure why she did it. But I could tell she was contemplating letting me leave. I took advantage of the opportunity to convince her further.
“I’ll go straight home. You can trust me. You can call my mother to make sure I’m there. Please.” I pleaded. “I know I can tell you anything. You’ve never told anything we’ve discussed before. But,” I stammered, and tried to hold in my tears, “this is different.” I’m losing my mind. How could I tell her that?
Chapter 3
“Okay.” Ms. Graves hesitated, rotated in her seat, and then scribbled a note on the clipboard on her desk. “Take this to the office explaining I gave you permission to leave.” She snatched the note back and looked me in the eyes. “Chloe, for heaven’s sake – go home. Do not go anywhere else. I will call your parents to let them know you’re on your way. I trust you to do this.”
“I will, I promise. I shouldn’t be around anyone else now anyway. Not in my condition.” I glanced at her sideways. Had I said
too much? Would she want to discuss what I said? I stood like a pillar of salt ready to crumble at any minute. As I took the pass, she observed me closely. We both knew I had no medical illness. I knew why I needed to leave but wondered why she allowed me to go.
“Thank you so much,” I called behind me. I raced from the room to the attendance office.
A line of students greeted me as I entered, going home also, I assumed. Two students up the line, a girl from my third period class held a tissue to a bloody nose. Trevor Reid stood in line in front of me. He didn’t appear to have an ailment. But he had his backpack and a note in hand. He twisted and glared at me. He motioned to the others in line ahead of us.
“I loathe standing in these interminable lines,” he said. He pulled on his J. Crew bag to adjust it on his shoulders. “The majority of us are parting for the day due to illnesses. Why, against all logic, would they have us detained in line like this? I believe I will express my concerns to my father. This school is indebted to us students. We pay an abundance of money to attend, to have…”
Trevor was a complainer. He complained about everything. It didn’t help that he had the most grating nasal voice either. And he talked like a Harvard professor and not a normal 12th grader. I pretended to listen, but I allowed my mind to wander back to the strange events that led to my emotional breakdown and the need to go home early.
Navigating my relationship with Zack had proved difficult. It was simple: he wanted more romance; I wanted more friendship. He appeared oblivious to this. In fact, his behavior had been odd the past few months. Resigned to remain friends, my mood soured when he tried to kiss me. But we did pretend on occasion – when our parents were around. Unfortunately, all the stress of maintaining a fake romantic relationship had begun to wear on our usually impenetrable friendship.
He was my rock. The one constant person I could depend on. But lately, all I’d wanted to do was throw knives at him.
