The Curse of Betrayal (A Curse Books)

by Taylor Lavati

  “I do!” I tell her, hoping she understands. “I just promised I wouldn’t say anything.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

  “Swear?” I ask, caving.

  “Swear,” she answers, and I make up my mind. I’ll just tell her and pray she doesn’t tell a soul. I want to trust her; it’s just her gossiping worries me, but I know she wouldn’t do it on purpose.

  “Megan asked me to help her train so she’s a better fighter. She feels weak compared to all of us, so I helped her, along with Ari. She was really embarrassed so please don’t say anything.” I walk up to Kara and take her hands in mine, pleading that she understand the severity of it. I don’t want Megan to know I betrayed her trust.

  “That’s not even a big deal,” Kara finally says.

  “I know, but she was embarrassed so please don’t say a thing.”

  “Fine,”she says, smiling since she got the story. I smile back and roll my eyes as I retreat to my side of the room. “Thanks for telling me.”

  “Of course,” I tell her as I go into the bathroom to change. I put on my pajamas and then hop onto my pillow filled bed. Kara’s already tucked in, and after saying our goodnights, we both retreat to the blackness behind our eyelids.

  It’s a dream. But a vision-dream, not a dream-dream. Oh god, I’m going crazy. I open my eyes once the queasy feeling in my stomach recedes and frown when I look where I am.

  It’s a big city. There are skyscrapers all around me, jutting high into the sky. But I’m not in a skyscraper; I’m in a park. I look around me, taking in the lush, green landscape. By the feel of the air, it’s a spring day—light and pleasant, but not chilly.

  I’m sitting on a park bench, dead centered within the short gates. There’s a group of young children, around five or six years old, running around by a duck pond. They laugh while throwing little pebbles into the pond.

  I look around me, but nothing is familiar. I try to look at each person’s face, but none stick out. I stand and walk towards the street. I see storefronts and apartment buildings. As I turn onto the main sidewalks, I see him.

  Ollie.

  He’s walking away with a brown haired girl glued to his side. Before I even glance at her face, I know she’s me in a past life. Her mere essence calls to me, and it oddly feels like there’s an invisible string connecting us to one another.

  I don’t know where they’re going or why, so I slink into the shadows, following them. They stop a few times, only once going into a building. But my dream self comes out with a blue bag in her hand. I try to look at the label, but the image turns fuzzy.

  I inch closer, but it’s like a hologram, blinking in and out. The edges being to dim, and I can only see straight ahead. It’s ending. My vision is ending.

  I focus on Ollie, trying to stay in the vision, but it’s useless. I can’t stay here. I fall back onto the cement, and before I know it, I’m stuck in my boring dorm bed. Damn-it. I wasn’t done with that one. I slam my eyelids shut and try to recreate the dream.

  I do exactly what Professor Onassis taught me: mediate and focus on where I want to go. But it isn’t working. I can’t transport myself back into the vision. I groan in frustration, hating that I still can’t easily control my visions.

  I roll over in my bed and stare at the ceiling for the next few hours until my alarm screeches at me. I just have to get through my day, and then Professor Onassis can help me get back into the vision.

  Only a few more hours.

  I lie back on the sofa and try to get into my meditative state so I can piece together my vision from last night. Professor Onassis has been working hard with me about my dreams, helping me control them in between our library visits. But clearly, I suck at it since I couldn’t conjure the vision again without her.

  Onassis claims that I’m not ready to see what’s in the dream, but I beg to differ. I want to learn as much as I can about my relationships with Ollie and Ari so I can figure out who I love more and who is my soul mate. I haven’t told anyone about my dream searching, other than Professor Onassis, but I need to piece together my life and find a loophole in the curse, too. I let my breathing even—in five beats, out five beats. Professor Onassis massages my face, like she does every time, crouched in front of me.

  I squeeze my eyelids shut and pray to be transported back to my dream from last night. I think of Ollie’s face and his dimples. I try to imagine what he was wearing in the dream, which, oddly, was similar clothing to what we wear today. I picture the two of us walking down a city street, but the dream ended so fast that I never actually got to see much of anything.

  But before I can dissect that, my stomach drops, and I know the dream is coming. I let out one breath, and then I’m transported to a park bench. The air is warm just like last time. I see the children laughing and playing in the park. I look around for Ollie and spot his blonde head a few yards away.

  He’s with a girl—me in the past. They’re holding hands and walking away from where I’m sitting on the bench. I stand, getting used to my wobbly legs, and start to stalk them, wanting to know where they’re going. I don’t know what type of dream it is, whether I’m seen or not, so I sneak around, trying to keep hidden.

  We’re in a city, surrounded by tall buildings. The pair walks into a store. I crouch outside to remain hidden. A few minutes pass before they leave with a blue striped bag.

  The pair stops to stare at an apartment building. My dream self stands on her tiptoes and kisses Ollie square on his lips, but I can still only see their backs as they face the building, and I’m stuck behind them. Ollie runs up the stairs and swings the door open for my dream self. She skips in, and then they disappear into the building. I count to one hundred and then run up the building stairs, hunting closely behind.

  I think I’ve lost them, but then I hear myself giggle from far away, and I follow the shadows around the corner, chasing the noise. I catch them unlocking a door before entering. I try to shadow them, but the door slams right in my face. Their footsteps fade into the apartment, so I take a chance and open the door, letting myself in. I pray to the gods that they can’t see or hear me.

  I stop dead in my tracks when I find myself and Ollie in a bright pink room. Ollie bends over and pulls out some blocks from the blue-striped bag. There’s white shelving above a bed, and on each shelf, he places a few blocks in meticulous order. I lean against the wall behind them, holding myself up, my brain thoroughly rocked.

  “I don’t know why you chose this name, Deedee.” Ollie laughs, shaking his head as he places the last block in its spot. His hair is slicked back and a little piece from the top breaks free from the mold. I have to blink twice to make sure that I’m reading it right, unable to understand the scene playing before me.

  “Please, Ortie. You know I just love the name. I dreamt about our sweet Aribelle all night. She loves her name, too.” My dream self cradles her swollen stomach in her boney hands. I feel my heart swell and break, collapsing into my stomach in a million pieces. I try to understand the whole thing, but I don’t understand.

  I had children?

  Obviously I’ve seen what’s needed, because I feel the dream ending. But I can’t tear my eyes away from Ollie and myself in the vision. Ollie comes towards me and wraps his arms around the growing baby in my dream self’s stomach. He bends and kisses where her belly button is and then gives it a little raspberry, making my stomach clench and my breath hitch.

  But instead of feeling happy, I’m sick. I try to rip myself from the dream and successfully land back in Onassis’ office. But the sick feeling isn’t gone. I’m nauseous, and the vomit is rising in the back of my throat threatens to explode out. I quickly look around the room and find a trashcan. I empty my stomach, until I’m dry heaving, acid tearing at my throat.

  Once I’m done vomiting, the sobs take over. I lean on the floor while my brain tries to make sense of this. When my mind can’t take it, I go numb. I sneak a peek over at Professor Onassis who looks s
haken up. She doesn’t know what to do, but I don’t care anymore.

  After she sees me completely lose it, she groans as she bends on her hands and knees to sit with me on the floor. She crawls to my side and takes my head on her lap, rubbing my temples. I barely feel it. I stare blankly at the white ceiling above me and try to count the brush strokes. “I have children,” I mutter, trying to figure out what that means to me. Are they alive? What happens after I die? How is this okay?

  “Oh, sweetie,” Professor Onassis cries, pulling my head into her chest. Her tears soak my hair and I know that she’s literally crying for me. For some reason, her emotions bring back mine, and my hysterical sobs return. My throat is dry, scratchy. My eyes sting and feel swollen. I don’t know what the hell to do.

  “How is this okay?” I ask, hating this curse and what it’s doing to me.

  “It’s not. We’ll figure it out.” She tries to reassure me but fails.

  “I have to find Ollie. I have to know what happened to her.” I don’t think. I just stand and grab my bag off the couch. I rummage through it for my cellphone. I dial and wait for him to pick up.

  “Hello?”

  “Where’s Aribelle?” I need to know. I’m not playing games or beating around the bush. I just want to know where the hell my daughter is and what happened to her. I probably look like a mad woman but I’m through caring.

  “What the hell? Ryder? What are you talking about?”

  “Where is my daughter?”

  “Maybe I should come down for this conversation. Calm down, Ryder.”

  “Ollie! Quit stalling, where the hell is she?” I ask him.

  “She’s dead, Ryder. She never made it.”

  I don’t hear the rest of the conversation. The phone falls from my hands to the floor, and I collapse, landing half on the couch, half on the ground.

  Luckily, Professor Onassis grabs the phone on the floor and finishes talking to Ollie. I tune her out, so I have no idea what they say. All I know is a daughter who I never met is dead, but worst of all, I didn’t even know she existed in the first place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  curing the numbness

  It’s Friday. One day since I found out I had a daughter. One day since I found out she was Ollie’s. And one day since I found out she was dead. I don’t remember much from last night other than Professor Onassis bringing me to her private house on campus. Nurses poked and prodded me all night as I tried to sleep. They said I was in shock.

  I expect this by now. I can never be allowed happiness.

  I remember only random moments after that. Bits and pieces stay ingrained in my mind, while others, probably on purpose, are blank. I remember Onassis dragging me around, bringing me from room to room. I remember lying in bed and having people stare at me, question me. I heard Professor Onassis tell people I had a bad vision, and oddly, it assures me that I can trust her, since she never elaborated further.

  I was released to my own dorm that night, where Kara was waiting, mascara run down her face in dark streams. I could barely look at her, because I knew it was my fault she was somber—just like it was my fault she was attacked. But I guess the selfish part of me was glad that she was upset, too.

  We cried, holding each other, for a long time. Ari came by, but I think it was awkward between us. To be honest, I hardly remember him other than his red stained eyes, which I could hardly look into since once again, I made them that way.

  Ollie came next and that was much worse. I remember it well. He tried to console me and tell me how sorry he was, but it just broke me. I thrashed about, mid-mental breakdown until the nurses came in to remove the problem. He left willingly. Then they gave me medicine to numb me—I tried to tell them that I was already numb. But nobody listens to the crazy girl.

  Around midnight, after the nightmares infected my sleep to a point where I was scared to shut my eyes, a nurse came by and gave me some pills. She left me a full bottle on the nightstand and instructed me to bring it with me for the field trip. I took the pill and then almost immediately felt better. It removed the pain and made me forget, if just for a moment, that I was so sad.

  February 24th

  Hey Ryder,

  Just checking in with you. I never got a response to my email. I hope it didn’t upset you or anything.

  I got an email from the school about your field trip. Be safe. I mean it. I hope you make wonderful memories and have a great time. Email me back so I know you’re alive!

  Love you

  Daddy

  Sent from my iPhone

  With no emotion, I sit on my bed, watching Kara get ready for our big day. It sucks because I don’t want to go on this trip at all, but I feel like I have to for my friends—plus it’s mandatory, so they say I don’t have a choice. I’m packed—thanks to Megan’s help; I’m ready—thanks to Lisa; and feel a fraction better—thanks to my magic pills.

  “You ready, girl?” Kara breaks me out of my trance, which feels like a constant state of mind now.

  “As I’ll ever be.” I slide off the bed and bend down to get my duffle bag filled with sweatshirts, long underwear, and boots. I have to admit, Megan packed me well, and I can tell because the sound of candy wrappers crinkles in my bag. Inwardly, I smile, thanking her for being such a good friend even when I’m losing my mind.

  Kara and I walk out of the dorm together and meet Lisa, who’s waiting outside with her two pink, rolling suitcases. I have to roll my eyes at that—she would have suitcases that look like Paris Hilton’s and wear boots with heels to the middle of the woods. When we all get to the admin building, three large coach buses line up beside the curb, ready to cart us to our weekend getaway.

  “There’s Megan.” Lisa leads us to the middle bus where Megan stands, rocking on her heels, looking nervous as hell. When she sees the trio of us walking towards her, she perks up and smiles.

  “Hey!” she calls out enthusiastically coming to my side first.

  “Ride together?” Lisa looks over and asks her. Megan nods back before focusing her attention back on me. I wish for once she would just stand up for herself. Maybe I wanted to sit with her or something. But whatever. I don’t care enough to make a scene.

  We hop in the second bus of the lineup and shove our bags into the overhead compartments. Lisa takes up her whole area so Megan has to shove hers under her seat—but it ends up taking up most of the aisle. It’s not even close to fitting, and I can just imagine someone tripping over it later. For some reason, this gives me a little spark of humor.

  After claiming the aisle seat, Kara scoots in and sets up her seat in our row—iPod, headphones, bottle of water, and a bagel, all laid out on her lap in an organized fashion. I set myself up with my own music, plugging my headphones into my ears. I turn it up to a thundering level so I can’t hear anything else and lean back in my seat, relishing in the deep screams telling me how much life sucks.

  The bus driver gets on the overhead speaker and lets us know that we are watching Ratatouille on the way to the cabins, and I pout. Not because of the movie choice but because I can still hear everyone. My plans of drowning out my peers in music have been compromised. The others mimic my whines, groaning that the movie is for you kids, but the driver ignores them, putting the disk into the hidden player somewhere up front. Once the announcement is over, Ari and Magdelina get on the bus last and sit in the first row—together.

  Because of everything that’s happened lately, I want to attack. Kara has to hold me down from going up there and erupting. “Relax. He’s yours.” She cools me down, but her words still annoy me.

  He’s not mine. But I just nod and slink into my rigid cloth seat, seething over the fact that she gets to sit with him—even after every conniving thing she’s done. The dream where he dissed her floats into my mind, and once again, I feel sorry for Magdelina because Ari doesn’t love her. Yet she still grovels at his feet desperately like a pathetic wench.

  The first fifteen minutes of driving go quickly, an
d the movie begins. Nobody really pays attention to it, though. Instead of watching, Lisa starts up a game of sweet and sour. The interesting this about the bus is that the windows aren’t tinted, so the other drivers on the road have a crystal clear view of us.

  The point of sweet and sour is to do something stupid or funny and guess what reaction the driver beside you will give. Mikey volunteers to go first. He leans up against the window and then pulls his pants and underwear down so the driver next to us gets a full moon of Mikey’s hairy, bare ass.

  The man driving frowns and raises his middle finger, making everyone else laugh, but not me. Hating that I can’t even enjoy a fun game, I reach into my bag and down another happy pill. I shut my eyes and wait for the magic effects to take over. A few minutes and some sour responses later, I feel lighter.

  Kara’s next up to go. She leans over me, and right as a guy pulls up next to us in his little Honda, she pulls up her shirt and flashes the guy. He honks the horn and gives her a thumbs up—sweet. He tries to stay in line with us, probably hoping for some more boobs, but traffic gets in the way and we lose him.

  I laugh so noisily that I almost tear up. My laugh sounds normal and bubbly, which is surprising to my ears. It’s my turn next, so I try to come up with a really clever idea. I remember the candy Megan packed in my bag, so I quickly reach up and grab the bag of Twizzlers from my duffle in the compartment above.

  I grab eight red strands and settle them on my lap so I can get started. When we pull up to a girl driving next to us, I know this is the perfect chance. I put one Twizzler up each nostril, one Twizzler in each ear and four hanging out of my mouth. I look ridiculous, but if I get a good reaction, I know I’ll be the best and maybe even the funniest without having to flash a body part.