Gravity, a young adult paranormal romance

by Abigail Boyd

  Not like I wanted a chance, I protested with myself. I had more important things to focus on. And every possibility remained that his friendliness could merely be an act, and beneath it lurked another carbon copy popular boy, who rated girls on websites online and took great pride in his gelled "just got out of bed this way" hair. It did look a little too perfectly tousled, now that I thought about it.

  As I finished my sandwich, I went into the office, where the only computer I had access to in the house was located. Claire and Hugh both had laptops, but they wouldn't let me touch them. My potential for internet corruption was a great source of fear to Claire. Only last year did she get rid of the persnickety child filter, and only because her work website would no longer load.

  I booted the computer out of sleep mode, and navigated to Jenna's fan page. It had become a wall of people posting monthly "I miss you's" and "Come back homes". But I noticed the posts had become much fewer in the last month. There was nothing new. I turned off the monitor, the sinking feeling only lasting for a moment. I was so used to it now I just brushed it off.

  I went back in the kitchen and rinsed my sandwich plate off. A pile of dishes awaited me in the sink, so I began rinsing those off to pop in the dishwasher. I shook my head. A bowl with pools of running paint held Hugh's paintbrushes, a mess against the white porcelain. He used to scold me for the same thing when I did paint-by-number books.

  I glanced out of the window above the sink as I washed. Startled, I nearly dropped the plate in my hands. Bright green eyes were watching me.

  It was the weird girl from the back row in art class. She glared at me over the fence that separated our house from the neighbors'. Her glittery eyelids sparkled wildly in the low sun. It took her a second to notice that she had been caught, but as soon as she did, she quickly turned around and ran back towards the house behind her.

  Although whoever had moved there had only arrived a few months ago, this was the first time I paid any real attention. Awesome, I thought as I started rinsing out the sticky brushes, another person that hates me.

  I fed a plate of spaghetti and round meatballs to the hungry carpet. I tipped the plate over and the long noodles cascaded down. The mess disappeared as the carpet absorbed it, nourishing itself. A smear of crimson was all that was left. My actions didn't seem strange to me at all. But the smear looked like something else. Like blood.

  I bolted upright in my bed, heart hammering below my ribcage. I didn't think it was a nightmare, but I was scared. Terrified, in fact. I tried taking a few deep breaths, but I couldn't get the air down low enough.

  My bedroom was one of three small rooms that came off of the main basement. Our basement ran the entire length of the house and was all finished, so it was very comfortable. The main space had seen its share of entertaining in the day, and couches and a fairly large TV were buried beneath boxes of junk and castoffs from Erasmus. I was grateful for the privacy, although I never did much to take advantage of it.

  But now I realized how cut off I was from the rest of the house. Still groggy, I stood up out of bed, bare feet slowly touching the floor. The reason for my fear suddenly became obvious.

  There was someone here. An animal instinct took charge. I was sure that someone was watching me. I could feel a change in the regularity of my surroundings, a foreign buzz of electricity. One of these things just doesn't belong...

  Fearfully, my eyes darted to my closet first, the usual suspect in slasher films. Before I could think about it too much, I walked over and looked inside. The hair on my arms and neck prickled. Adrenaline made me brave as I pawed through my hanging clothes, but nothing awaited me there.

  I turned, half expecting a serial killer in a hockey mask to be casually hanging out behind me, but for all I could see, I was alone. My room wasn't that big and there was really nowhere else for someone to hide. I peeked underneath the bed, but all I could see were shoeboxes.

  I opened the creaking door, every second expecting the intruder to show him or herself and catch me off guard. Out in the hall, I peered in the laundry room. The washing machine and dryer stood alone opposite a freezer chest. I lifted the lid of that, not knowing why even as I did it, but the inside harbored only a frozen turkey and leftover freezer pops. Then onto the storage room, although it was so packed with junk no one could jam themselves inside no matter how skinny. The main room awaited me, the only place I hadn't checked.

  I flicked on the overhead light, bathing everything in yellow fluorescence. The bric-a-brac and furniture in the room cast shadows on the floor and in the corners. Shadows anything could wait in, watching me as I unknowingly stepped out.

  Stop thinking like that, I scolded myself.

  I peered behind a few items: a tub of Halloween costumes, a broken box fan, a pile of outdated computer equipment Hugh always said he'd use but never did. But still, I found no sign of the invasion that I felt. The adrenaline ran out, and flight mode threatened to kick in. It took everything I had not to run, but stubbornness is a powerful characteristic, and I had inherited that in spades from Claire. I needed to know what had overrun my house.

  There was a sliding glass door downstairs, as our house was built on a slope. Usually, I was proud my parents trusted me not to take advantage of it. Right now, it just made me feel exposed. I contemplated running either up the stairs or to the door. The motion detector lights outside hadn't been activated, and I was certain that I had locked the door before I went to bed.

  For a split second, I envisioned Jenna walking to that same door and into the night. I won't miss you, her voice echoed in my head. I shook the completely inappropriate memory away.

  I stood still for a moment, then decided it was ridiculous to keep playing this cat and mouse game with my own fear. I stomped over to the door, throwing the lock and sliding it open. If someone waited to ambush me, I might as well get it over with.

  Stepping outside into the cold night, I looked from side to side. But I didn't see a soul. The sky lacked a moon, and the world slept peacefully beneath it, quiet and calm. Only the occasional rumble of a car on the street broke the silence. But the creepy feeling remained, as strong as ever.

  My bare feet were beginning to freeze on the cement slab porch. I faced the strange girl's house, but she wasn't around, either. Of course she wouldn't be in the middle of the night. Normal people were sleeping in their ordinary beds, not chasing phantoms. I shivered, looking up at the windows of the house anyway. No sign of movement.

  I shut the door, ready to go back to my room. Out of nowhere, the air against my skin turned to ice. My fear peaked, my heart racing as though I were in a race. As if I were face to face with something terrifying that I couldn't see, but my instincts knew endangered me. And then, as fast as it had swept upon me, the feeling disappeared.

  I was left gasping for breath. I sunk down to my hands and knees, waiting for my heart to return to normal. When I could finally breathe, I stood, locking the door. A second of indecisiveness kept me still, and then I raced back to my bedroom.

  "What the hell just happened?" I asked the empty air. But no answers came back to me.

  I shut my door tightly, and jumped into bed. I tugged the blanket up around my chin, but it was a long time before I fully got back to sleep. Even though I now felt utterly alone.

  Chapter 6

  By the morning, I'd convinced myself that I had imagined the whole thing. My lifelong love of horror movies could have easily contributed. My parents always told me I had an overactive imagination. They were right. I had enjoyed the company of imaginary friends until I met Jenna to replace them. The one thing that I couldn't reconcile was the fact that normally I didn't scare too easily. And last night I had been terrified.

  Hugh joined me for breakfast.

  "I had a talk with Claire last night," he said.

  "About what?" I asked, completely forgetting our chat during the car ride home the day before. Unforgiveable, considering how important the ability to come and go on my own was
to me.

  "You know what," he said. "Your suggestion that you walk to school. I tried every bargaining technique I know." He buttered his toast with a steak knife. I almost told him it was an inappropriate use, but I let it drop considering he held my fate in his hands. "Believe me; I put up the good fight."

  "And let me guess, she said no way in this lifetime," I said, sighing as I finished my soggy cereal. I swirled the little Os around with my spoon.

  "Actually, she agreed to it. After intense deliberation. The only stipulation is that you have to send me a text message when you get to school and when you leave to come home."

  I raised my eyebrows. "No joke?" I couldn't believe it.

  "No joke."

  I got up and gave him a hug around his neck. Hugh laughed softly.

  "Thank you!" I said. "You don't know how much I appreciate that!"

  "This is on a conditional basis, though," he warned, as I gathered up my books and shoved them in my backpack. "Don't get too excited. You have to follow the rules every time, or I reserve the right to personally revoke it."

  "I will," I promised.

  After cleaning out my bowl, I went downstairs to finish getting ready. I dressed quickly in my favorite shirt, dark violet with lace-trimmed sleeves, and rushed upstairs. Grabbing my backpack, I slipped outside and started off on my first walk.

  Fog hung low to the ground, obscuring the landscape. The sky a flat, dull gray, preceding dawn. Despite the early morning chill, I felt happy to be breathing in the fresh air. I sucked in a lungful, until I couldn't inhale anymore. The walk, as I suspected, only took about fifteen minutes. I had opted not to use my bike; I didn't have a bike lock and it was clunky besides. Plus I'd feel like a dork on my bike, when in my not-so-distant future I would hopefully have a car.

  I felt only a little out of breath when I arrived at school, and more energized and awake then I normally did. I'm not normally a morning person, but it felt as though I'd drank an entire pop and caffeine rushed through me. I walked into the commons in a more uplifted mood that I hadn't expected. There were ten minutes until school started, so the commons was packed and loud as everyone carried on discussions. But it wasn't as jarring as it had been yesterday. I didn't have the immediate urge to run anymore.

  Sitting together at one of the rectangular tables were a couple of girls I'd been friends with for years, Becky Long and Sarah Abbot. We had often occupied the same lunch table, although it seemed like a different life now.

  "Ariel!" Becky called out. I didn't know what she wanted, but I wandered over to their table.

  "Hey, do you want to sit with us?" Becky asked amiably, gesturing to the unfilled seat across from her. The offer surprised me, but I was more than willing to comply. I couldn't stand feeling singled out anymore.

  Pulling out the chair I sat down. The only spot for my backpack was in my lap, as the entire table was filled with girls I couldn't remember if I knew, and there wasn't a lot of room. It felt awkward, but I didn't want to protest.

  "How are you?" Becky asked, clasping her hands together on the tabletop and tucking her pointy chin on top.

  "I'm fine," I replied lamely, for lack of a better adjective.

  "That's good," she said, smiling tightly. "I'm glad to see you. I've been wondering how you were doing. We heard rumors that you weren't coming back. Someone said your dad was going to homeschool you this year."

  "No, of course not," I said, trying to play it off lightly and attempt a smile. I hoped it didn't look like a grimace, as my smiles lately too often did.

  Awkward silence followed, in which the other girls avoided my gaze. It seemed like they didn't know what to say to me. But I was glad to be sitting there, even as I searched my thoughts for a suitable topic and came up short.

  "Did you hear they're playing Loveless at the theater?" Sarah piped up, and the other girls jumped on the topic as if it was food and they'd been up in the mountains for days.

  The girls started chattering away about the movie, which was apparently my least favorite kind, a romantic comedy. I didn't have much to say; I'd never heard of it. Even as they moved onto school gossip, I remained oblivious. Mostly I just hunched behind the backpack. I became a little irritated with myself, but I didn't have it in me to make the effort. What if I said something that came out wrong?

  The day went faster than the first, and rather uneventfully. Lainey and Madison pretended I didn't exist in gym, which I greatly preferred to being teased or almost knocked over. I sat at Becky's table again at lunch, still only listening to what the other girls had to say. I'd lost my opinions somewhere along the way. They didn't seem to mind. It was easier for everyone to pretend I was wallpaper.

  As far as classes themselves, I enjoyed Warwick's the most and not because he was Hugh's buddy. I knew I wouldn't just get a good grade because of that fact. But listening to him embellish the events that happened in our country with outlandish tales made the experience endlessly interesting. We were trying to get through the revolutionary war as fast as possible, and George Washington was crossing the Delaware today.

  Henry seemed to be busy chatting with his new friends. The group of guys were all laughing like they had known each other for years, in the way that people like that seem to do. Sticking with their own kind. Several of them wore gold and purple school jerseys.

  The brief thought that I'd lost him flashed through my head. He was never mine to begin with, I rebuked myself. It should have been easier for me, because I didn't have to try. It should have been a relief.

  In English, the same alone-in-the-dark feeling overtook me when the lights went out for the overhead projector. Luckily, Ms. Fellows didn't seem to notice as my eyelids drooped and I began to zone out. My thoughts still automatically went to Jenna, the empty hole in the room.

  By the end of the day, I wanted out, though for no particular negative reason. Sleep chased me after the previous night, and my clothes reeked of ground pencil lead and cafeteria smells. I felt much less optimistic than yesterday, but I tried not to dwell on it. In art, I sat in the same place, with the same indifferent male, because the other seats were full up.

  "All I'm saying is, since it's Hell, we should be able to sin and get away with it," Henry joked around with Lainey. His charming voice carried over to my seat, broken by Lainey's high-pitched, fake giggle.

  "You're really bad," she tittered. "I'm surprised you've lasted this long without getting in trouble."

  She tossed her shiny blond hair. The strands shimmered like a waterfall as they caught the light. For the slightest moment, I wished I was her. The biggest thing that scared her was that she hadn't put on enough eyeliner. Not that her best friend was never coming back. Or that pretend boogeymen lurked in her basement.

  I dutifully texted Hugh as I set out on my journey back home. As I came around behind the house, I noticed my neighbor sitting on the swingset next door. She scribbled in the sketchbook on her lap, never taking her eyes from the paper. She wore a poufy, tutu-like black skirt and black and white striped leggings, and her glitter today was red, matching the vivid, artificial red of her hair. Her glasses kept sliding down her nose and each time she would push them up with two fingers. She didn't look so intimidating now; in fact, considering how little she was, she didn't look intimidating at all.

  An impulse hit me. I was prone to them, but up until then I very rarely acted on them. I peeked my head inside my own house.

  "I'm home," I said to Hugh, who sat at the table. "But I'm going to hang out in the backyard for a few minutes."

  He saluted me and went back to his laptop. Paint drops splattered the shoulder of his shirt. He chewed the end of a pen to ruin, which meant he was concentrating deeply on something. I tossed my backpack on the floor of the dining room and slid the door shut. As I walked over to the fence, I anticipated what to say, and whether it was a good idea to say anything at all.

  "Hey!" I called to the girl. She startled, and almost fell off the swing. The sketchbook went sprawlin
g on the grass.

  "Sorry!" I said.

  I hadn't expected that kind of reaction. Most of the alt-kids in our school were tough and aloof, and talking to them was risking getting your teeth realigned. I noticed a bandage around her ankle, pushing up her left legging.

  "What do you want?" she asked, picking up her book and sitting back down on the swing. The words didn't come out rudely, merely curious. She capped the pen she had been using to draw and looked up at me. I had never seen such vibrant green eyes; they were the color of limes. I assumed contacts.

  "I just wanted to know if I've done something to offend you," I said calmly. "As far as I know, I've never talked to you before today, but it seems like I've done something to you."

  She looked caught for a second. "No," she said. "Your friends just don't like me."

  "I don't really have any friends at Hawthorne anymore," I said matter-of-factly. Saying it felt odd, like I should feel worse about the fact. I knew that I was discounting Becky, but to be honest with myself, I felt more like a charity case to her than a friend anymore.

  "I thought you and that Lainey girl were friends," she said, leaning over to gather her sketchbook back up. I laughed for about the first time in a month.

  "What would give you that idea?" I asked, leaning on the fence. "I am way too dorky for them, and also" — I gestured to my house — "I don't live in a mansion."

  "Never mind, then," she said.

  She started to stand up, but I found I had a sudden desperation to talk to someone who I wasn't related to. Someone who didn't know me and hopefully wouldn't make assumptions.

  "Where did you move from?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

  "Chicago."

  "Do you miss it?"

  "Every day." She looked up at the sky, as if there were an invisible dome there. "I don't like this town."

  "Me neither. And I've lived here my whole life." I brushed away a fly that landed on the fence.

  "That sucks," she said, her nose twitching for a moment like a rabbit.