by Vivi Anna
I could call out for my mom, but I imagined she wouldn't be too calm seeing her daughter floating along the ceiling. Besides that, she'd definitely take me back to the doctors. Since floating was definitely not on any symptom list of diseases known to man, going to the doctors wasn't going to do me any good anyway.
No, this was something else. Something unnatural. Something even supernatural.
Images of actor Tobey Maguire crawling up a brick wall in the first Spiderman movie came to mind. I lifted my hand and inspected my fingertips for tiny barbed hairs. Although I had no delusions of grandeur of becoming a superhero, I pondered the notion that maybe I'd been infected with something noxious or alien. But then that just spawned images of zombies running through London streets circa the movie 28 Days Later. It was a stupid notion.
Yet, I had died earlier this week.
I glanced around my room searching for anything that could help me get down. The desk by my window was my best bet. It was solid enough that I could grab hold of it and pull myself down along the wall. Reaching it was another matter.
Testing my limitations, I pulled my legs up. My knees scraped against the stucco. I knew they'd sting later but right now I couldn't let it stop me. Still holding the light fixture, I dragged my knees across the ceiling. The hard plaster ripped at my skin as I crawled toward the window. Just a few more knee shuffles and I'd reach the curtain rod, but I had to let go of the light to get there.
Taking a deep breath, I released my grip on the brass fixture and, trying to dig my fingers into the ceiling, I crawled the last few feet to the wall. I grasped the curtain rod and let out my breath thankful I didn't float away. Now I just needed to pull myself over to grab the desk. I smiled to myself thinking that I'd done pretty well so far. No freak outs. No frantic screaming or passing out.
Hand over hand, I pulled myself along the window frame until I reached the end. My desk sat along the side of the window. One hand still gripping the rod, I reached down to grab the top of the shelving on my desk. Stretching as far as I could, I was still a good two feet away. I wasn't going to reach it without pushing off from the ceiling.
It wasn't that I had a fear of falling; it was the fear of what if I didn't? What if I was stuck to the ceiling forever?
Maybe my mom could charge a fee for people to come and see the freak living on the ceiling. Could be an interesting career choice. I wouldn't have to succumb to the pressure my mom was giving me about going to college. I could literally lie around and do nothing. Except I'd be lying on the ceiling and not on the sofa watching TV.
"Well, here goes nothing." Bracing one hand and my knees against the ceiling, I counted to three then pushed off.
I hung in mid air for a moment, and then felt myself being sucked back upwards. Scrambling I snatched a handful of hot-pink curtain to keep from sticking to the ceiling again. My face was pressed against the glass of my window.
And that's when I saw the boy sitting on a large branch in the old oak tree right outside my window. His face was illuminated by moonlight and he didn't look too happy.
Yelping in surprise, I fell to the floor.
Nothing broke my fall and I landed virtually unscathed on the carpet. Although I did knock my head against the windowsill as I dropped. I also managed to knock all the air out of my lungs.
Head starting to throb, I rolled over onto my back to take a few deep breaths. I rubbed at my forehead making sure there was no blood, then sat up, albeit slowly and carefully. My whole body ached. God, I was going to be sore tomorrow. I glanced down at my knees and winced. They were shredded pretty good. Blood dotted the carpet where I'd landed.
I struggled to my feet and peered out the window again. Tree boy was still there. What the hell? I had a peeping Tom sitting outside my window. I wondered how long he'd been there and what exactly he'd seen.
Pissed, I slid the window up and stuck my head out. "What the hell are you doing?"
He didn't respond, just sat and stared at me, his hand wrapped around one of the tree branches.
"I'm going to call the cops, asshole."
"I can help you." There was something about his voice that gave me pause. It was familiar. Not the voice itself, but the timbre of it. The way it moved and undulated. The way it flowed right into me. I liked the way it made me feel inside. All warm and gooey, like a freshly baked cookie—chocolate chip, my favorite.
My hands were shaking, but I kept up my chin. I didn't want him to see that I was one part scared and one part turned on. "Help me what? Undress? Pervert."
"I know what's happening to you."
It was then, that I recognized him by the way the moonlight danced across his face. A perfect pale face with sculpted cheekbones and strong jaw that I'd seen before.
"You were there, at the party."
"Come with me. And I'll tell you what's going on."
I wanted to go with him. The urge pulled at me violently. So violently I wanted to jump from the window without a care of how or where I landed. My teeth even ached from the pull.
Shaking my head to clear my mind, I said, "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know you."
"My name is Trevor."
"I don't care what your name is," I stammered. "You're freaking me out and I want you to leave."
"It's going to get worse before it gets better. You need to be prepared."
"Prepared for what?"
"To lose your mind."
I wanted to laugh but the way he said it, so serious, so solemn, made my heart thump hard. My throat ran dry and my whole body iced up. I'd never felt so cold in my life.
"Just please leave."
"Don't be stupid. Listen to what I'm telling you."
"You haven't told me anything," I huffed. "You're sitting in a tree outside my window like a stalker. Why the hell would I listen to you?"
"Because I know what you're becoming." He smiled, but there was no humor in it. My knees turned to rubber. I had to grip the windowsill to stop from collapsing to the floor. "I know, because I'm one of them."
"One of what?"
My bedroom door opened and my mom shuffled in. "Salem. It's three in the morning. What are you doing?"
I whipped around, trying to cover my knees and the window all at the same time. "Nothing."
"You're sure making a lot of noise for nothing." She moved further into the room and flipped on the main light. "What are you doing at the window?"
I turned back to the glass worried that my mom would see Trevor in the tree. But I didn't have to worry. He was gone. Vanished.
I glanced down at the yard and the street beyond, but didn't see his shape walking away. It was as if he misted into the shadows themselves. I shivered again, and then turned back to my mom.
I shrugged. "I thought I heard something outside."
She sidled up to my side to look out the window. "Was there anything?"
"No." I shook my head and ran a hand over my rat nested hair. "I must've been dreaming."
"Okay, hun." Yawning, she patted a hand on my head, in her usual manner. "Back to bed. You have your first day of school tomorrow."
Nodding, I slid the window shut, and then padded across the room to my bed. I slid in between the blankets and pulled them up to my chin. I no longer had to worry about being hot then cold. I was like a frozen burrito through and through.
Mom shuffled to the door and shut off the light. "Night."
"Night, Mom."
She went through and shut the door behind her. But I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep. My mind was racing and my heart pounding. There was no way in hell I could close my eyes and go back to dreamland. Not when I was fully lucid and aware, acting in my own waking nightmare.
Chapter 8
I was bone tired as I made my way down the sidewalk toward the front steps of Boise High. True to form, I didn't go back to sleep after having dropped from the ceiling. I lay awake considering all of my options.
The one conclusion I came up with, was that a
ll of this, all of what I was going through, had something, maybe everything, to do with Malice's after party.
I'd been drugged there. Left as trash in a downtown dumpster, then after rescuing myself I went home and died. After coming back to life, my eyes had gone inky black, I heard words in static, and I seemed to have the ability of sticking to ceilings. Oh, and my peeping tom, Trevor, I'd seen at the after party.
Coincidences maybe, but not likely.
As I neared the white stone steps I saw Chloe and Jamie leaning against one of the metal hand rails waiting for me. It was our senior year and we vowed to conquer it together even agreeing to taking the same electives. None of them we'd ever use again in our lives.
We just wanted to make it through a little smarter, none the worse for wear, and capable of getting jobs. Anything else would be a miracle. I had no delusions of being a doctor, lawyer, or even a dot com entrepreneur. I just wanted a decent job where I could wear what I wanted and be able to listen to music as I labored. Ambition was completely lost on me.
Chloe waved as I approached. "Hey, chica, feeling better?"
"Yeah, just tired." I readjusted my book bag on my shoulder trying hard not to show the dark circles around my eyes. Even copious amounts of makeup couldn't hide them this time.
"Ready for torture and slave labor and degradation?" Jamie asked, running a hand through his mop of platinum blond hair, and then giving me his arm.
I nodded and wrapped my hand around his offered arm. "You bet. High school rocks."
As we mounted the stairs, several of our fellow students turned and looked at us. Although we stood out from a crowd, I had thought that after the past two years everyone would've been used to our wicked ways. There weren't any snickers or jabs in the ribs and pointing rudely. The looks were more curious than mocking. And nine times of ten they were from guys.
Subconscious I patted at my hair, making sure no stray strands were sticking up at their leisure. Inconspicuously, I glanced down at my jeans to make sure my fly was zipped and that no important body part was sticking out of any rip or hole. The laces on my Doc's were done up, so it wasn't that. My happy-skulls hoodie was zipped up and I wasn't wearing a shirt where any cleavage peeked out inappropriately.
So, what was everyone staring at?
When we neared the doors, both Jamie and Chloe were noticing the attention, and were glancing around also checking to see if they had anything vulgar sticking out of any piece of clothing.
"What's everyone looking at?" Chloe whispered to me.
I shrugged, not having the faintest idea.
"Hey, Salem."
I nearly tripped on my own boot as Josh Kirby, the most popular guy in school, smiled at me. He reached out to steady me. His hand lingered on my arm a little longer than was necessary. But he smelled nice, so I didn't mind one bit.
"Ah, hi?" I said, confused as hell why he would be talking to me. In all the years we'd been going to the same school, he'd never talked to me. Not once. Not even an "excuse me" after bumping into me in the hall.
"How was your summer?"
"Fine?" Although I sounded like a dork, I couldn't stop the questioning in my voice. I was in total shock and really couldn't be held responsible for what I said and did.
Both Jamie and Chloe were in equal states of shock, so they just stood there and watched the exchange with gaping mouths and wide eyes.
Josh was about to say something else, when the SS, Silicone Set, named so for their bouncy boobs which we all thought were fake, consisting of Heather, Megan and Lauren, stepped in between us. Heather was Josh's ex-girlfriend and a complete replica of Britney Spears, but without any talent.
She glared at me, daggers of ice flying from her baby blues. "Is it be nice to a freak day or something? Did I miss the text message?"
Megan and Lauren laughed with her, but surprisingly Josh didn't, nor did his best friend, Pete. Maybe I was still dreaming. I ran a hand over my arm and pinched my skin hard. Nope, I was wide awake because that hurt like a bugger.
"Shut up, Heather," Josh said.
The little crowd that had gathered around us gasped in surprise. If my lower jaw hadn't been attached, it would've fell to the stone step and shattered into a million pieces.
"Excuse me?" Heather stammered.
"You heard me." Josh swung his book bag over his shoulder and, with Pete joining him at his side, moved toward the front door. He smiled at me again, this time with a salacious wink. "I'll see you later, Salem."
He disappeared into the school leaving a whirling confusion in his wake. The murmuring crowd began to break up but not without glancing my way again once or twice as they made their way into the school.
Heather and her crew were the last to leave. "This isn't over, freak," she spat at me.
"Hey, I'm just as confused as you are. Take it out on Josh, not me."
"Whatever." After swinging her sunny blond hair over her shoulder, she straightened her shoulders and, her crew by her sides, strutted through the school doors.
That left me, Chloe and Jamie standing outside, immobile with shock.
"What just happened?" Chloe asked.
"I have no idea," I answered.
"That was really weird." Jamie shook his head. "Do you think he's punking you?"
"Maybe." I shrugged again. But I wasn't so sure. When Josh had touched me, I felt strange, different. His smell was strong in my nostrils. He smelled like candy. Tasty and sweet. It was odd to think of him like that, as something edible. But the sensation was there. My stomach even clenched a little at the thought of licking the side of his face.
Whatever was going on, I sensed it had something to do with all the other changes in me. But at least this one was pleasant. It didn't bother me one bit if Josh Kirby was attracted to me. I liked it. A lot. It gave me a feeling of power I'd never experienced before. Power to persuade. Power to seduce.
Feeling a whole lot better and not in the least tired, I readjusted my bag on my shoulder and went into the school, happy as a pig in crap to be going in. Chloe and Jamie trailed after me.
Maybe my senior year of high school wasn't going to suck. Maybe it was going to be a life changing event. One where I'd never be the same again.
***
After a morning of getting class schedules, coveting lockers, and wandering the campus looking for classrooms, Chloe, Jamie and I were sitting in Lava Java, a coffee shop not far from the school, drinking café mochas with whipped cream and tiny chocolate bits on top. It was our usual lunch time snack.
Our main topic of conversation—why Josh Kirby was flirting with me.
I passed him twice in the hallway and both times he smiled. Not a random obligated smile, but a warm inviting sexy grin that did interesting things to parts of my lower anatomy. Since I'd never really thought much about Josh in the past, my reaction to him was unexpected. He'd always been popular as the clichéd captain of the football team, an A student and all around golden child. He even looked golden with his perfectly messy tawny-streaked hair, and gold flecked green eyes. He had perfect white teeth, that had to be bleached I'm sure at least twice a year, high sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. He was as sickening good-looking as a top New York model, and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if Josh could strut down a runway with the rest of them.
He was so far off my radar that I never really thought about him. Especially not as potential boyfriend material. I preferred my guys to be tall, dark, and emotionally disturbed. They also had to wear too much black and like pain—I mean it did hurt like a son-of-a-bitch to get a tattoo and to get your tongue pierced. I know. I'd been through both. Anyone who says different is lying through their teeth.
So, I suppose it was hypocritical of me to all of sudden find him attractive. But I couldn't deny that I did. I could deny it to my friends, which I fully intended to, but I couldn't lie to myself.
"I just don't get it." Jamie said as he chewed on his straw. "It's not that you're not, you know, cute Salem, but I re
ally don't think you're his type at all."
"Thank you Jamie, for your insight." I sipped my drink.
"Hey, I'm just saying."
Chloe slid the straw out of her drink and used a spoon to scoop out the whipped cream. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway, why Josh is interested, because it's not like Salem's interested back." She eyed me curiously when I didn't say anything right away. I knew she was expecting me to agree with her. "Right?"
I nodded vigorously, although my heart wasn't into the agreement. I was sort of interested. "Right. I'm not interested at all. He's a jerk."
I didn't think she was convinced of my vehemence because she asked, "If he asked you out, you'd say no, wouldn't you?"
"Of course." I avoided her gaze as I said the words. Instead, I concentrated on picking up a piece of chocolate with the tip of my straw.
She nudged me in the arm, and my chocolate flake dropped onto the table. "Salem. I can't believe you're considering going out with him."
"Holy crap, Chloe, he hasn't even asked me out." I dabbed at the chocolate on the table with my napkin. "Why are we even discussing this?"
"Because we basically have nothing else interesting to talk about," Jamie said.
"That new band Supernatural is coming to town," Chloe offered, as she licked whipped cream off her chin. "We should go."
Jamie smirked. "I hate those guys."
"What? You just downloaded their latest CD," she said.
"Yeah, that's why I hate them. It sucked donkey balls."
Chuckling, I stood. "I'm going to hit the head."
I made my way over to the ladies' room in the far corner of the shop. Both stalls were empty when I entered and I quickly used one, humming a little tune as I did. But when I came out the tune stuck in my throat and I nearly choked.
Trevor sat on the counter near the sink, a café mocha in his hand. He sipped it, his gaze never leaving my face.
I gaped, my mouth opening and closing like a guppy. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"Trying to help you."
I went to the sink, turned on the water and washed my hands. As I dried them with the paper towel, I scowled at him. "How did you get in here anyway? Is the men's room all full or something?" I tossed the wet towel in the garbage.
