Collide

by Michelle Madow

  “Pirates don’t smile,” Eric said, holding up his pouch of gold. “We scowl! Arrg!”

  “That’s great.” Dad kneeled to the ground and snapped more pictures. “Hold that pose.”

  He took some of me with Eric, me with Marisa, and me with Jake. Then he did Marisa, Jake, and me, and Eric jumped in, swashbuckling his sword.

  “As fun as this is, we need to actually get to the dance,” I said, glancing at my watch. “Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye, Anna,” he said. “Bye, Eric. Be safe, and I’ll see you both by midnight. I love you.”

  “Love you too.” I kissed his cheek, and headed out the door.

  Friday, October 31

  When we walked into school, the teachers took our tickets and glanced through our bags. I held my breath through Eric’s turn. He could get kicked out if they discovered the rum—but they glanced inside the pouch of gold and waved him through.

  “That was close,” I whispered once we were out of earshot from the teachers.

  “Did ye doubt yer crafty brother?” He raised his eyebrows and smirked. Then he switched back to his normal, non-pirate voice and added, “Seriously, Anna, give me some credit. I covered up the rum bottles with fake gold coins.” He grinned and held up the pouch. “Now, do ye all want to share in the spoils?”

  Jake burst into laughter, and he pulled me closer. “Vampires drink blood, not rum,” he said, brushing his lips against my neck.

  Heat coursed through my veins, but I leaned away, because my brother was watching and that was awkward. “I’ll pass on the rum, too,” I said.

  “Do you think I could have some?” Marisa’s eyes darted around the room, and she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “Just a few sips.”

  “Since when did you drink?” I asked, keeping my voice down.

  “I just want to relax and have fun,” she said. “Chill out, Anna. It’s the Halloween dance. Everyone’s drinking.”

  I opened my mouth to say how it wasn’t like her, but her eyes darkened, and I stopped myself. “Is this about what you were telling us earlier?” I asked softly. “About Sean?”

  “It has nothing to do with him.” She smiled, but it seemed forced. “I just want a shot of rum. No big deal. So…” She raised an eyebrow and turned to Eric. “Where are we doing this?”

  “Are you brave enough to sneak into the men’s room?” he asked. “Danny’s already there.”

  “I thought he wasn’t coming?” I asked.

  “He changed his mind.” Eric shrugged. “But he needs some liquid confidence, and he can’t wait around for me all night. Coming, Marisa?”

  “Yeah.” She straightened her shoulders and readjusted her dress. “I’ll find you guys in the gym,” she told me and Jake.

  Once they were gone, I leaned closer into Jake. “That was weird,” I said. “Maybe we should go after her?”

  “Knowing Marisa, she’ll get more upset if you try to stop her,” he said. “Let’s give them twenty minutes. If they’re not out by then, we’ll check on them.”

  “Twenty minutes,” I repeated, glancing back at where they’d disappeared. “Okay.”

  “Good.” His eyes sparkled. “Because the most beautiful angel is here with me, and since we came here for the dance, it’s time we actually went into the dance, don’t you think?”

  He held out his arm, and I took it, letting him lead me down the hall.

  But before we could enter the gym, Robby and Claire came pouring out, him yanking her elbow as he dragged her through the doors. Her Playboy bunny outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, and he was as much of a greased up jerk as ever in his old-school gangster costume. Something silver flashed in his jacket—probably a flask—and he pushed me out of the way.

  I stumbled over my stiletto, and Jake steadied me so I didn’t fall. “Hey.” I glared at Robby. “Watch out.”

  “You watch out.” He sneered and kept walking.

  I stepped toward him, but Jake placed a hand on my arm, stopping me.

  “He’s not worth it.” He pulled me to the side, looking me up and down. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I readjusted my wings and watched Robby drag Claire around the corner. “But he’s a jerk. I don’t understand why she stays with him.”

  “You could ask her,” he said.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Claire and I haven’t talked in months. I can’t just walk up to her and suggest she dump her boyfriend. Especially not right now. They seem pretty upset about something…”

  “Definitely not right now.” Jake’s eyes turned serious, and he placed his hands on my cheeks, drawing me close. He rested his forehead against mine, and I closed my eyes, intoxicated by the heat of his lips hovering over mine.

  But then the DJ switched songs, and my mind crashed back into the present. Where there were teachers nearby, watching us. The thought of them seeing me and Jake being so intimate together was downright weird.

  “We came here for the dance,” I reminded him, pulling away playfully. “Come on.”

  We entered the gym, and I stopped for a moment to look around. It had been transformed into a beautiful ballroom by black floor coverings, flowing curtains, and dim lights. The DJ played a hit song that the dance team had used last year for a routine, and my former teammates led the steps in the center. I still remembered the moves, but I wouldn’t join in, especially because some of the football guys were grinding up behind the girls, grinning at each other about how close they could get. They all wore white t-shirts with something written in black marker across the front, and I squinted to make out the words.

  “What do their shirts say?” I asked Jake.

  “’I’m on Bath Salts.’” He laughed. “I guess they’re being that ‘Bath Salt Zombie’ from the news. The guy who got high on bath salts and ate some woman’s face off.”

  “Right.” I scrunched my nose, remembering seeing something about it a few days ago. Florida always had the strangest news stories. “They probably won’t remember what that means in a year.”

  “Good thing we’re more original,” he said. “I mean, an angel and a vampire. How creative…”

  “We make an awesome vampire and angel.” I smiled and nudged him with my hip.

  “And this vampire is thirsty,” he said. “Let’s get drinks?”

  We grabbed sodas and situated ourselves on the bleachers, Jake’s arm around my shoulders as we watched our classmates dancing and mingling. We stayed there and talked, although the entire time, I kept glancing at the door to check for Marisa.

  Claire and Robby came back inside, with a huge gap of space between them, and stomped off their separate ways. Claire joined the clump of girls on the dance floor, and Robby stood in the back of the room, staring her down as she laughed and danced.

  I shuddered at the way he looked at her. Because it wasn’t loving—it was scary. Possessive.

  Maybe this weekend I should reach out to her and try to talk with her about him.

  Finally, just when I was about to go track down Marisa in the men’s bathroom, she walked inside with Eric and Danny. Danny must have been the only person here not in a costume. Marisa trailed behind them, looking sad and lost, and I waved my arms so she could find us.

  Just as she spotted us, a popular line dance song came on, and Eric rushed to the dance floor. I hoped Danny would go with him, but he followed Marisa over to join Jake and me.

  “Have you two been sitting here the whole time?” Marisa asked once she reached us.

  “Yeah.” I motioned to the dance floor. “It’s scary out there.”

  “I don’t like dancing either.” Danny sat next to me on the bleachers, his back straight and rigid. “But I thought you would, since you used to be on the dance team.”

  “That’s different.” I crossed my legs so I was angled toward Jake. “It’s choreographed.”

  “Makes sense.” Danny stared out at the dance floor, his eyes blank.

  He wasn’t going to stay here all n
ight, was he? He had to have other friends. At the very least, he could hang out with Eric, who was dancing with a group of dorky sophomores to the side of the dance floor.

  The song ended, and the DJ’s voice echoed through the sound system. “It’s time to slow it down,” he said, and I smiled at the opening notes of one of my favorite songs.

  Jake stood and offered me his hand. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

  “Of course.” I placed my hand in his and followed him to the dance floor.

  He found a spot he liked—directly under the spinning disco ball—and he pulled me close, his hands grazing the small of my back. I snuggled into his chest—we fit together perfectly. Then he reached up, trailed his fingers down my arm, and took my hand, like we were a couple in an old-time movie. My heart fluttered at how intensely he was looking down at me.

  “I wish we could stay like this all night,” I told him.

  “Me too,” he said. “I love you, Anna. It’s always been you. Never forget that, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I promised. “Because I love you too. So, so much.”

  We swayed to the music, lost in our perfect world, and I never wanted to leave it. This was the happiest I’d felt in months. I wanted to stay there, with Jake, forever.

  Then the first shot cracked through the air.

  Friday, October 31

  My ears rang, and I pulled away from Jake, looking around in shock.

  That had been a gun, hadn’t it? And someone had shot it. Here, at the school, in the gym.

  This couldn’t be happening. This was the sort of thing that happened in the news. To other people. Not to me. Not in my life.

  But as people screamed and ran for the exits, I knew that this was real. And a corner of my mind told me that they were doing the smart thing—getting out of here. Moving targets are less likely to get hit, or at least I thought I’d read that somewhere before.

  But where was Eric? And Marisa? Were they okay? Were they hurt?

  It was impossible to find anyone in the chaos. But I had to move. So I pulled away from Jake, taking his hand in preparation to run.

  Then I looked down and saw red splattered all over my dress.

  It looked like someone had knocked into me with a cup of punch.

  Except this wasn’t punch.

  It was blood.

  There was so much of it. And it was so bright. I hadn’t realized that blood was so bright.

  I touched the stained fabric, my fingers feeling like they weren’t my own, searching for where the blood was coming from. I couldn’t find a wound. And I felt no pain. But all this blood… it had to come from somewhere.

  Was I so shocked that I’d become numb to the pain?

  Then Jake convulsed and collapsed to the ground.

  I fell to his side, my hands searching his chest. Why had he fallen? I was the one who was covered in blood. I was the one who’d been hurt.

  But the warm, sticky liquid coated my palms, and I realized—it was Jake’s blood on my dress.

  He was the one who’d been shot.

  “Jake.” My voice shook, and I cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at me. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

  My eyes darted around the gym, searching for help. But it was a madhouse of people running and screaming. A girl tripped over me, fell, and got up to hurry toward the exit. She didn’t stop to look back. Nobody stopped.

  They all wanted to save themselves.

  “Someone call 911!” I yelled, trying to be heard over the music blaring from the abandoned DJ booth. “Somebody do something!”

  But there were more shots, and more screaming. My voice was buried in the chaos.

  No one could hear me.

  “Jake,” I said, lowering my face to his. His breathing was labored, his face pale. “Someone’s getting help, and I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere. All right?”

  He took a rattling breath, blood gurgling up from his throat and onto his lips. “Anna,” he said, barely getting out each syllable. “Run.”

  “No.” My eyes blurred, and I wished I knew what to do.

  If my mom were here, she would know. But she wasn’t, and everyone was running and screaming. So I pressed my hands onto his chest to stop the bleeding, the warm stickiness seeping through my fingers.

  The blood wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I pressed.

  “I love you, Jake,” I said. “I won’t leave you.”

  His eyes glazed over, he let out a long breath, and he was still.

  Too still.

  “Jake.” I cupped a hand around his cheek, keeping the other held against the wound. “Look at me. Help’s on the way. You have to keep fighting. You have to pull through this.”

  He stared at the ceiling, and I kept trying to force him to look at me. But it was hopeless. His eyes were unfocused—lifeless—and his head was a dead weight in my hand.

  “No!” I pounded on his chest, my body heaving as I collapsed on top of him. He couldn’t be gone. This couldn’t happen to someone I loved.

  Not again.

  “Come on, Jake,” I cried. “We need to get out of here. I love you… you can’t leave me. You have to wake up. Please. Wake up.”

  Then another shot cracked through the air, my head seared with blinding pain, and everything went dark.

  Monday, October 27

  Music blasted from my phone, and my eyes snapped open.

  My heart pounded, my body covered with sweat, my face damp with tears. I wiped them away and looked at my hand, expecting it to be covered in blood. There’d been so much blood. Everywhere.

  Jake had died. In front of me. His eyes had stared up at nothing, and he’d gone so still, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I’d never felt so helpless—not even when I’d been pulled out of class last spring and told about my mom’s accident.

  I’d never seen someone die before.

  I pulled the covers closer and closed my eyes, seeing it all happen again. The shots, the screams, the blood. So much blood.

  I couldn’t lose Jake. Not after losing my mom. The world couldn’t be that cruel.

  But I was in my room, in my bed, and I recognized the song playing—the one from Back to the Future.

  The same song that had played earlier this week.

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and laid there in the dark, catching my breath. The shooting at the dance must have been a dream. A nightmare. It was the most vivid nightmare I’d ever had, but soon it would fade, like all dreams do.

  For now, I breathed in and out, trying to relax as I listened to the rest of the song.

  How was I listening to the same song that had played on Monday? A year ago, Jake had loaded thousands of songs onto my phone because he wanted to “broaden my musical horizons.” My alarm picked one at random each morning. I’d gotten a few repeats, but never in the same week.

  It must be a sign that we were meant to watch those movies this weekend.

  The song ended, and I reached for my phone to text Jake—but I stopped when I saw the time. Because it was six thirty AM… thirty minutes before I usually woke up.

  But that wasn’t the strangest part. Because according to the date on my phone, it wasn’t Friday.

  It was Monday.

  The entire week had been a dream.

  How could I dream an entire week? And how could I know what song would be playing when I woke up?

  I dropped my phone on my chest, the screen going black as I wracked my mind for an explanation. I must have pressed the snooze button the first time my alarm went off, dreamed an entire week, and then was woken up by the same song when my alarm went off again. I didn’t know if it was possible to have such a long dream in ten minutes, but dreams were strange. Time worked differently in dreams than in real life.

  It was the only solution that made sense.

  I picked up my phone again and opened my texts, searching for Jake’s name in my recent messages. He wasn’t there. Instead, t
here were texts from months ago—Claire, Dad, a bunch of girls from the dance team, and Zac.

  Why had my recent messages been deleted? Was there a glitch in my phone?

  I would ask Eric about it later, since he was good with technology. In the meantime, I opened up a new message to Jake. After that nightmare, I wanted to tell him how much I loved him.

  But I didn’t want to tell him that I’d had a dream where he’d died. Where I’d died. Because that was what had happened at the end of the dream, right? I’d been shot?

  It was so morbid, and I didn’t want to think about it, let alone type it. So I steadied my hands and sent him the screenshot of the song, as if it were any other morning.

  I stared at the screen, waiting for his reply. The last message between us was from May. Something generic about me saying I was busy and couldn’t meet up with him that night, and him saying it was okay and not to worry about it.

  Whatever bug had hit my phone must have erased all of my messages from the past few months. Which was annoying, but Eric would know how to fix it.

  In the meantime, I touched my wrist, wanting to feel the bracelets that Jake had given me.

  But my hand wrapped around bare skin, and my heart dropped. Where were the bracelets? I felt farther up my arm, up to my elbow, but there was no point. They weren’t there.

  Had I taken them off in my sleep? I’d never done that, but my nightmares last night had been worse than ever. I must have been so panicked that I’d thrown them off.

  I switched on my lights and glanced at my nightstand, expecting to see them there. But there was no sign of them.

  And they weren’t the only thing missing.

  The picture I kept of me and my mom was gone, too.

  In its place was a picture of me and Claire smiling in front of the Moulin Rouge.

  Monday, October 27

  This was impossible. I’d never been to the Moulin Rouge.

  I shot up in bed, pulling my comforter up to my chest and looking around. It was my room, but it wasn’t. The basics were the same—the bed I’d had since middle school, the dresser, desk, bookshelves, and lamps. But instead of the generic beach painting I’d had for years, there was a framed poster of the Eiffel Tower. And my counter, which was supposed to be covered with the art projects I’d made at camp over the summer, now displayed a collection of snow globes.