Gravity, a young adult paranormal romance

by Abigail Boyd

  The red emergency backups came on, but then they shorted out, as well, and I was left in soupy, gray darkness. I cursed the school's cheap budget for not fixing their real problems, especially when it seemed so easy for them to add more volleyball courts or basketball hoops.

  Even though I had spent many months in these halls, I became lost. I didn't know which way to follow. Everything felt too real, my vision wobbly and at the same time too sharp in the dark. Like watching a documentary.

  I spun around, not knowing where I was. Why did I insist on being so impulsive? I patted my pockets for my phone, realizing I had left it back in my bag in the art room. Panic seized me, my heart beating wildly, and felt as though I would jump out of my skin.

  I crept down the hall, even as I had the urge to run. Shadows had taken on form, like living things. It was as if the insides of the school had changed, warped. Hallways seemed different. Common landmarks had lost their meaning.

  I turned a corner, and bumped hard into someone. I started to fall. Whoever it was grabbed my forearms and lifted me up before I hit the ground.

  "Careful," a familiar male voice said, and I recognized with immediate relief who it was.

  "Henry," I moaned. It came out more passionate than I intended.

  "Ariel?" he asked with concern, looking into my face. I had no idea how he could see me in the dark. But then I realized I could see his face now, too, more familiar than my own. The red emergency lights were back on. I frowned.

  "You're not supposed to be here," he said softly. Neither are you, I thought immediately, but did not say.

  A blast of fire erupted from my left. It was the basement access door; I could see the sign above the orange flames. He grabbed my hand and we rushed past it, running down the hallway. I quickly knew where I was again as we passed my homeroom, and couldn't believe I would have ever gotten so lost. There was another fire in a classroom to our right, smoke pouring out into the hall and stinging my eyes.

  We burst out through the vestibule and outside. The afternoon sun stabbed my eyes. The lawn was covered with students, a chorus of voices talking on cell phones and with each other. A fire truck was parked in front and firemen in yellow reflective jackets lined up to go inside. They staked out the area, communicating with one another on walkie-talkies.

  McPherson spotted us and began stomping up the stairs, face purple with fury. Henry dropped my hand without looking down. It felt so empty.

  "And so the trouble begins," he whispered under his breath.

  "What the hell were you doing still inside?" McPherson hissed, looking at Henry. Then he turned at me and glared. I resisted the urge to cower. McPherson's moustache was trying to meet his eyebrows. I didn't know that it was actually possibly for a person's face to be that color. "What a surprise that you of all people would be caught where she shouldn't be."

  I didn't like the implication.

  Henry stepped forward. "If you really need to discuss this further, you can speak to my father. You have his number, correct? Or do you need his card?" He had affected an almost snotty tone that I'd never heard out of his mouth before. It both impressed and confused me.

  McPherson stood still as a statue, at a loss for words. Henry placed his hands on my shoulders, leading me down the stairs and into the crowd.

  "Walk over by that tree, there's an empty spot," he whispered in my ear. I melted a little, feeling his breath on my neck.

  "I didn't need you to save me," I said finally when we were out in the crowd. But he wasn't looking at me. He was distracted by something. I looked at his face, the one I had secretly studied countless times as he sat on the den couch in my house. I knew his right nostril was a fraction bigger than his left one, and one of his canine teeth had a small chip. And I could tell he was keeping something from me.

  "So what did you have to do with the fire?" The words were out of my mouth before I knew I was thinking them. Of course it made perfectly logical sense now that I said it. He had plenty of time to set them when he left the classroom.

  "Why would you think I have anything to do with this?" he asked, his voice too innocent. He wasn't as good of an actor as he thought he was, and it didn't help that he couldn't look at me, still gazing off into the sea of students. It was as if the rules had reversed, and he was the avoidant one. That part he performed expertly. The openness that was normally all him had disappeared.

  "What's the matter with you?" I asked, peering again at his face, trying to catch his eyes.

  "There's nothing," was his only answer. The way he was avoiding me reminded me painfully of Jenna's transformation, and panic flared illogically inside me. It was no big deal, I assured myself. He was just freaked out. Regular Henry would return soon, the one that I knew, the one that cared about me.

  "I have to go," he said, and prepared to jog off, when he finally looked at me. He paused, and tilted his head.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  Now that he mentioned it, I was starting to feel really sick. My throat was sore and I could hardly breathe through my still-sensitive nose. My eyes were watering like I had hay fever. In the sun, I could barely keep my eyes open.

  "Actually, I feel sort of crappy," I admitted. "I didn't think I inhaled that much smoke. I still have trouble with my nose."

  He looked conflicted for a moment, emotions playing on his features. "Well...take care of yourself," he said cryptically, and left me behind as he walked away.

  The firemen had headed inside while I was trying to decode Henry. Smoke was billowing out of some of the front windows where we had been a few minutes earlier. I watched as the spray from their hoses doused the impending blaze.

  I wandered around and found Ms. Vore's class fairly easily, hiding near the back. I hoped my absence had not been noticed, but I couldn't tell for sure.

  After the fire had been put out, we were allowed ten minutes to go in and get our things, as long as we stayed with our teachers. School was supposed to be dismissed a few minutes earlier, but in the confusion no one had said anything. Parents were showing up scared, worried about bomb threats and phantom explosions.

  I went inside to get my backpack. Henry was nowhere to be found; his books were already gone. I was feeling progressively worse, both physically and mentally, with all the questions running through my head. McPherson was wandering around doing damage control out in the hall; the sound of his voice made me anxious, like I was about to be captured.

  As I slung my bag over my shoulders and tried to leave the classroom, Lainey stuck her arm out, blocking the exit. I hadn't even realized she was still in the room.

  "I'm only going to tell you this once," she said. "It's silly that I have to tell you, because I thought I already made myself clear. Leave Henry alone."

  "What?" I asked, stupefied.

  "You heard me," she spat, showing every perfect, shiny-enameled white tooth in her mouth as she snarled. "You are not one of us. You don't belong. Obviously, even Jenna realized it when she dumped you."

  I could have slapped her. I clenched my fists instead. "What if he doesn't want you?" My mind screamed. But I was not that brave, and feeling sick made it even worse. I just nodded meekly and let it go, ashamed of myself.

  For a moment, it almost looked as if Lainey was going to spit on me, but she turned and walked away, her heels clicking loudly down the hall.

  The sobs trapped in my chest made it harder to breathe. I realized that Lainey scared me, something I had never really put together before. She had already broken my nose and gotten away with it. What else would she do?

  Ms. Vore came back into the classroom then, and saw me. I must not have looked well.

  "You look like you're about to pass out Ariel," she said, steadying my limp shoulders with her hands.

  "Just the smoke," I said, looking away and sniffling as my nose started to run. It must have looked like I was tearing up, even though it was due to whatever was wreaking havoc with my sinuses.

  "How about I walk you out?" s
he suggested softly. I nodded. She grabbed a patterned bag full of sketchbooks from the back of her chair and slung it on her hip, flipping off the classroom light.

  "How is Theo doing?" I asked as we walked.

  "She's alright. She has the flu, and her dad's taking care of her since he works from home," she explained, tucking her short brown hair behind her ears.

  "Theo told me about him," I said. "How he lives right down the street, right? What does he do?"

  "He makes wooden sculptures and sells them online," she said, shrugging. "It's a living. Anyway, I think you might want to head to the doctor yourself, honey. You look like you've got the flu, too."

  I groaned and palmed my face. Of course, I was coming down with the flu. "I don't know why I didn't think about that. We spend so much time together now..."

  "I've noticed that," she said. "I wanted to tell you I'm really grateful that you took her under your wing." It didn't seem that way to me, at all. As far as I was concerned, Theo helped save me.

  "She was really depressed for a while, especially before we moved out here," she explained. "And in the meantime I thought I was moving here for her benefit. I'm just really glad she made such a good friend."

  We continued walking through the hall silently. I just wanted to be at home and sleep, but I tried to keep up. It meant a lot to have a friend's parent actually like me, and not think I was either a bad influence or roadkill.

  "I know it wasn't very fair of me to call you out for looking at your boyfriend," she said out of the blue. I had nearly forgotten the incident in the months since, but I looked at her, neglecting to correct the "boyfriend" part.

  Her face was solemn. "It's just that you have vision, and if you only stop yourself from being distracted by silly school stuff, you'll go far. I know that's silly for me to say, that it all will pass, but it will, even though the easiest thing to do sometimes is to get caught up in it."

  "My art isn't exactly good," I countered shyly. "Or really, even art."

  "Maybe you won't win any awards any time soon," she conceded. "But you do have an eye for seeing things in a new perspective."

  We had reached the front doors of the school, where the fire truck was still waiting outside. I was not in the mood to have to walk home, but I braced myself anyway.

  "Do you need a ride?" she offered. I nodded, grateful. I was already sweating through my coat and I shifted uncomfortably.

  I didn't remember much of the ride home, trying my best to stay alert. When we pulled into my driveway, I stepped out of Ms. Vore's car.

  "Tell Theo I said feel better," I told her. "I've already said it a few times, but more won't hurt. And...thank you." She nodded, smiling, and pulled into her own driveway.

  I walked in through the front door, not able to make myself go around the back, and chucked my backpack by the doorway. I rubbed my temples, which were throbbing in time to music on TV.

  Hugh came out of the den with a stack of books in his hand. "What's up?" he asked. "No more sports incidents, I hope."

  "I think I have the flu," I groaned. I swayed on my feet and headed for the couch, pulling the quilt on top of me and yanking it up to my chin. I still had my shoes on.

  Hugh came back in with the thermometer. I started to tell him about the fire at school, but it came out like gibberish. He was even more concerned when he saw the 103.1 fever. Next I was aware, he was on the phone with the pediatrician. He told me if my fever didn't go down significantly tonight, we should head to urgent care, and gave me some Tylenol. Hugh always got very nervous when I was even the least bit sick, ever since I was a little girl. I closed my eyes and fell asleep, burrowing under the blankets, my mind a peaceful blank sheet.

  Chapter 20

  My fever dropped a little overnight, but it was still holding steady over 101. I felt very warm, instead of the chill a fever often brings, and alternated throwing the covers off and yanking them back on me. I hated being cold when I had the flu; it made my skin prickle.

  In the morning, I stayed parked on the couch. My head was so stuffy I felt like I was in another world, and my skin burned all over. I couldn't stop sneezing and my throat hurt like crazy. I watched morning cartoons and then an onslaught of infomercials. I never realized just how many gadgets were created for the sole purpose of cutting up vegetables. Chopping carrots didn't seem that hard.

  Claire came in every once in a while to monitor my fever. Between this and my nose, I had given them too much to worry about lately.

  "Am I dead yet?" I asked, coughing. My lungs felt as though they were full of nettles.

  "Don't say that," she said sternly.

  "What's wrong? At least no one tried to take off any of my body parts this time." I made hacking motions with the side of my hand. I had a tendency to get juvenile when I was sick.

  Claire rolled her eyes, dropping emerald green flu pills into my palm and closing my fingers around them. Then she whisked used tissues off of the table and the ones that had overflowed the grocery sack propped up on the floor.

  I took the pills with a swing of ginger ale. I couldn't focus, feeling the drowsy effect taking over, and closed my heavy eyelids.

  I noticed the tick-tocking of the grandfather clock in the dining room. Slight at first, so I barely noticed a difference, then louder still. The sound warped, and distorted, into the sound of thumping on the wall behind me.

  I was in a white corridor of doors. It was pristine, like something in a fancy hotel. For a moment, it flashed to a dank replica, with detritus and old leaves on the broken wood floor. But only for a moment. Then the elegant hallway was back. This time it stayed in place.

  As I walked past each door, it disappeared into the wall. I ran my hands along either side, and felt nothing but smoothness beneath my fingertips. It was a sort of numb, detached sensation, like I was just borrowing the body I was in.

  Where the corridor ended was a black door. A strange, coppery metal symbol sat in the center. It looked so familiar, but at the moment I couldn't place it. It looked like a bunch of sticks.

  I opened the door, and the world shifted so that I lost my balance. I fell on the ground, with the door above me. I stepped up and through the door, and found myself in the caretaker's shed by the Dexter Orphanage. I walked out of the shed and across the sprawling lawn, crossing to the gate without looking behind me.

  The thick air was hot. I walked through town, but I didn't recognize where I was. Everything seemed just a little off from what I knew. The world was wrong, angles tilting precipitously, the street was black and undulating like snakeskin. The swirling sky was violet, full of angry clouds. I heard girls screaming, not one, but many frightened, hopeless voices. Then the street burst into flames around me and I was sucked back into my body.

  I woke up on the couch, sucking in my breath, sitting up. I was drenched in cold sweat, my shirt sticking to my chest and back. But I felt like my fever had broken. I put my hand to my forehead and my skin was clammy.

  "What the hell is this, the haunted couch?" I mumbled to myself.

  I was miraculously better in time for school, due to my religious use of flu medicine. The sides of my abused nostrils were red from tissues.

  Being sick, I had all but forgotten about the fire incident on Friday. But everyone in the commons was talking about it when I walked in on Monday. Basement Access was no longer locked, but was symbolically blocked off by traffic cones. I wondered if that would actually keep people away. There were scorch marks under the door, as if something had been trying to reach out.

  The most prevalent theory surrounded an antisocial group at school that always wore black and pretended to be anarchists. That it was some kind of political statement against forced education. There were lots of whispers involving my and Henry's name.

  When I arrived in the locker room, Theo was waiting expectantly for me.

  "Seems like I chose the wrong day to get sick," she said, fiddling with her combination lock. "What happened while I was gone? I keep hear
ing people talk about a fire."

  Before I could open my mouth, Coach Fletcher walked in. "Don't bother changing," she said. "There's going to be an assembly concerning the fire. Leave your stuff here and let's go."

  "Do we have to?" groaned Madison, who had already donned her gym shorts.

  "Yes." Coach marched back out.

  Theo and I were still wearing our street clothes, so we walked straight into the hall. I filled her in on what happened during the short walk to the auditorium. She agreed that Henry sounded suspicious.

  "But don't write him off, yet," she said. "He obviously cares about you. You should have seen the look on his face when you...passed out at the orphanage. You might as well have been his wife or something. Maybe he just got scared, or worried he would get in trouble. You know how guys are; they can't talk about that stuff."

  Lainey and Madison passed by us then, as always wanting to be at the head of the crowd. I waited until they were out of earshot before I spoke again.

  "His wife?" I asked.

  "You know what I mean," Theo said.

  "He does seem kind of romantic. Sometimes he's all I think about." I'd never admitted it out loud before, but I knew Theo would understand.

  "Well, yeah, if I had a sickly hot guy falling all over himself for me, it would be a huge deal," she agreed.

  "What about Alex?" I teased. "He's not bad looking for a meathead."

  "Meh," she said, shrugging. She rubbed glitter out of the corner of her eye. "I still have to think about that. He did send me a get-well email. There were kittens. That has to count for something."

  The auditorium was packed nearly to capacity when we arrived. It looked like every freshman and sophomore sat there. I had no idea what to expect. Public execution wasn't out of the question. The faculty members stood along the walls, talking to each other.

  McPherson appeared onstage, lit like a ghoul in the stage lights.