The Light of the World (The Light Series Book 1)

by Tara Brown

She shakes her head. “It looks like a flashlight is shining from behind. Like your eyes are the flashlights.”

  She flicks the light and it's the most remarkable thing I've ever seen. I can see perfectly. Like a cat.

  In the mirror, they look normal. They don’t glow in the dark. They don’t look different or anything, but I can see every aspect of her dark room as if the light were still on. I can tell it's dark because the room is black in my peripheral, but in front of me the room is almost lit up.

  “They look normal without the lights on,” she says.

  I don’t tell her that I can see the weird face she is making.

  She flicks on the light and my eyes don’t need to adjust. I can see flawlessly.

  “It's gone.” She sounds stumped.

  I look back at the mirror and nod. “Weird.”

  I smile in the mirror. “That was creepy.”

  She looks suspicious. “You been drinking?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Drugs?”

  I tilt my head. Michelle knows me better than that. We were best friends all through elementary school. She was a he, and he was my best friend until we got older. Then he clammed up and stopped talking. I can't imagine the internal struggle he has endured. I knew he was gay. Everyone knew. I just never knew that he should have been a she. Seeing her the way she is now makes more sense. She always was a she, and now that it's official, it makes sense. She is alive for the first time, ever.

  I, however, am beat.

  I yawn and stretch. I have never been so tired. I yawn a second time and my eyes water. “I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow.” I rub my eyes.

  She points at her bed. “You look like you're already asleep. Wanna sleep here? You can sleep with me. Like a slumber party.”

  I think for a second. The walk back to my place feels like a pilgrimage, and I'm exhausted. I nod and kick my shoes off and climb into her bed. She sits beside me and turns the light off. She turns on a movie. I can see it flickering in the dark.

  I snuggle into her bed and get comfortable. I like her room better than mine. Her room is new and smells clean. My room still smells old and musty, and my bed stinks.

  I don’t know if I closed my eyes or if I slept with them open, but my dreams come instantly.

  Chapter Three

  “You'll be dead again before this day ends.”

  It's a chant. I see Willow's lips moving as she chants on the floor in lotus pose. The words are not spoken in her voice, but they come as she moves her lips.

  “You were born dead.”

  I shake my head and plug both my ears. I'm standing amongst graves, which are in the living room at our house. She chants and mouths the words in a whisper. Even with my ears plugged, I can hear them.

  “You were dead already this morning, and you'll be dead again.”

  Her green eyes open and lights shoot from them. Her lips move slowly, and I can hear exactly what she whispers, “You're dead, Nene. You're dead. I just forgot to tell you.”

  Chills cover me, and I wake. Not with a start or jumping up like I should after a crazy nightmare. I always just open my eyes and look around the room. For a moment it feels like I am being watched, but I'm alone.

  The whispers still seem to be there. Chanting. I shiver and climb off the bed. I put on my shoes and stretch. Michelle's room is neat and tidy and new.

  In the mirror my eyes are bright again. I close them and rub. When I open them, my mascara is flaking everywhere. I look like hell, but at least the color's normal again.

  The halls are empty when I leave. I still feel like I'm being watched, but no one is there. I can't shake the feeling from my dream. I'll have to text it to Willow. I'm afraid she'll have some “I told you so” moment and make me come home.

  I decide telling her can wait. I texted her yesterday to tell her Michelle was at our school. That made her happy. She seemed relieved. Her texts and constant nagging are getting to be annoying.

  The fresh morning air is thick. Late August in Vermont is muggy. It's always muggy. Then mid-September hits and it's cold. It's like a switch.

  A guy's voice interrupts my thoughts. “Wow, that explains so many things.”

  I stop and look at him. He nods at the guys he's walking with and comes over to where I am. He grins and crosses his arms smugly.

  I frown. “What?”

  He nods at the building. “You're making the walk of shame from the lesbian building. I for sure called that, huh?”

  I look back and laugh. I hug myself and walk toward him. “Sometimes I wish I were a lesbian. You're stalking me, aren't you?”

  He laughs. “Yes. Definitely. If you're gay, I'll have to double my efforts. Try and win you back.”

  I scowl. “You're an idiot. You can't change gay people. My friend lives in there. I'm not gay. I'm just not into dating the first three days of school either. I know you frat boys have competitions and crap, but don’t include me in the sport, okay?”

  He looks angry again, but the look I saw on his face the night before isn’t there. “You're really sort of rude. You know that? Not all frat boys are the same.” He shakes his head and walks away. He looks back and scowls. “My GPA is 3.89.”

  He's gone down a path, and I feel stupid. He always makes me feel stupid.

  When I get back to our room, Mona gives me her best death glare. “I looked everywhere. I was worried sick.”

  “I slept at the Living and Learning Center,” I mutter.

  She raises an eyebrow.

  I shake my head. “My friend lives there.”

  “Well, next time text me.”

  I shrug. “Okay. How was the night?”

  She looks me over and grins. “Not as good as yours. You're making the walk of shame. Pride rooms or not, it counts.”

  I scoff. “Mine sucked. Pretty sure I've offended that Wyatt guy brutally and spent the night sleeping in a girl's bed. Minus the girl when I woke. I'm not even sure she slept there last night. I suspect she might have had a good night.”

  “Is she gay?” she asks.

  I shake my head. I don’t know how to explain without sharing her secret, if it's a secret. “Complicated.”

  Mona laughs. “Not a college girl?” She sits on her bed and looks at my eyes. “Your eyes look different.”

  I yawn. “I'm super sleepy. I think I'm gonna crash again.”

  She gets up and walks to the door. “I'm going for the pancake breakfast. Want a plate of food?”

  I nod and lie down on my bed. I kick off my shoes and pull my jeans off. I curl into my blankets and snuggle in.

  My phone starts vibrating just as my eyes get heavy enough that I can't open them. I drift off and ignore it.

  When I wake, it's dark. I've slept through the entire day. I sit up and look around. The room is dark, but I can see clearly again. I'm going to have to have an eye test. A plate of cold pancakes sits next to me on my bedside table. Mona is gone. I push my phone, but the screen stays black.

  “Crap.” I plug it in and lie there. A knock at the door startles my thoughts. I climb off the bed and open the door.

  Michelle is dressed to the nines and giving me a worried look. “You sick?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think.”

  She taps her heel on the floor. “Then get the eff up and come party. It's the second to last Saturday before classes start. Oh, and Willow sent me a text. She got the number from my sister. She wanted to know why you're ignoring her and if she should come and see you.”

  I roll my eyes. “My phone is dead. Jesus.”

  Michelle gives me a serious look. “Well, I told her you were sleeping a lot. She said that was good. She's weird, dude.”

  I nod and open the door all the way. When she comes in and sees me in my panties, she laughs. “Nice. Who buys your underwear?”

  I look down at my beige underwear and scowl. “What?”

  “Beige granny panties. Really?”

  I tug at my t-shirt and climb
back into my bed. I rub my eyes. She turns a light on and looks at me funny.

  “Your eyes are doing it again.” She points.

  I nod. “I know. I think I must have like glaucoma or something.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please. It's probably your ghost-hunter ancestry going nuts in this spooky-ass old dorm. With a mom like Willow, you're doomed.”

  I snort. “Ghost hunters. Please. Charlatan's maybe. Where did you sleep last night?”

  She smiles softly, like she is remembering something. “With Benny.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Benny?”

  She nods. “He's so awesome. He's a senior and he's a bio major.”

  “Smart, huh?” I ask.

  “Going to be a doctor.”

  I laugh. “I can totally see you as a surgeon's wife. Little Miss Suzie Homemaker.”

  She bats her eyelashes. “I know, right? He's sweet. And he's cool with my history.”

  I flinch. “You told him?”

  “Of course.”

  I’m confused. “Isn't the whole point to being a girl, not telling people you used to be a boy?”

  She nods. “Duh, but I'm not going to lie. What if it gets serious and I have to tell him, and then he breaks up with me because of it, and I end up with a broken heart? It's not like I can have babies. Plus, I take more shots than a crack addict. No. Telling the truth is better. Besides, he likes it. He's always been sort of bi-curious.”

  I shrug. “Okay, good call. Just seems weird to have a conversation like that on the first night.”

  She laughs. “We've been dating for two months.”

  I am totally confused. “How did you meet?”

  “Group therapy.”

  “For what? Does he want to be a girl, and then you'll both be hetero-lesbians?”

  She crosses her thin arms and frowns. “None of your business . . . smart-ass nosy parker. Anyway, everyone is going to some club tonight. Wanna come? Or we could just stay in and continue to make fun of minorities and alternative lifestyles?”

  I shake my head. “You're a dick. I wasn’t making fun.”

  “You coming out with me or what?” I have totally inappropriate “coming out” jokes, but now I'm scared she won't think they're funny.

  Instead, I look at what she's wearing and dread the effort it would take to get me to that standard. I know it's going to be too much. Like surgery for me, too.

  I shake my head. “No I'm beat. I haven’t been this tired, ever. I think I got mono from thinking about kissing that frat boy.”

  She rolls her eyes and walks to my closet. She moans when she opens it. She looks back. “Do you own normal girl clothes?”

  I frown. “Yeah.”

  She shakes her head and mutters to herself while rifling through my clothes. “No, you don’t.” She grabs a khaki skirt and a white tank top. “Ugh. Put this on. It'll have to do.” She grabs some flip-flops from my closet and throws them at me.

  The door opens and Mona walks in. “Hey.”

  I smile. “Hey. Michelle, this is Mona, my roomie. Mona, this is Michelle. She's from my hometown. One of my best friends.”

  Mona stops and smiles. “Oh my God. Congratulations.”

  Michelle looks at me, confused.

  I shake my head. “No, not this friend.”

  Michelle puts her hands on her hips. “What?”

  I give Michelle a flat look. “She thinks you’re Trudy, from back home.”

  Michelle crosses her arms. “I look like a lesbian? In this?”

  Mona looks at me for support, but I laugh. Michelle is wearing a pink halter with a silver mini skirt and huge shoes that look like they belong on a Bratz doll. She actually looks like a Bratz doll. Her long blonde hair is shiny and smooth.

  “No?” Mona looks at me again. I laugh harder.

  Michelle slaps her arm. “I'm totally kidding. Anyway ladies, let's get some cute clothes on and bust a move. We're going out. You coming?”

  Mona nods. “Sure.”

  Michelle walks to Mona's closet and grabs a purple shirt and a black skirt. “You have seriously cute clothes.”

  I scowl. “Nice.”

  Mona grins. “Thanks. Where are we going?”

  Michelle shrugs. “Not sure. Some club.”

  I pull on the tank and slide the skirt on. I look like I should have a bathing suit under my clothes and be wearing a straw hat. I look over at them and frown. “I can't go with you guys.”

  Mona is “smoking.” She looks more like Blair than ever. Her dark hair is shiny and around her shoulders in soft waves. Her lips are glossy and plump. Her eyes shine and her skin is pale and flawless. She and Michelle could be models. Both are crazy tall in their huge shoes. I feel like a hobbit next to them in my flip-flops.

  They both look at my clothes and grimace.

  Mona shakes her head. “Yeah, you look really casual.”

  “I've never been to a club.” I say it like it's an excuse.

  Michelle raises an eyebrow. “Neither have I, but I still have clothes that would suit the occasion. Your closet looks like it belongs to a nine-year-old.”

  “I shop at trendy places,” I defend myself.

  Michelle points at me. “You shop at trendy places, and somehow, come out with the plain crap that no one else wants. Those knit t-shirts you wear are pajamas tops. Don’t even start with me.” She's exasperated.

  I look at Mona, but she puts her hands in the air. “I'm not getting involved.” She turns and faces her closet. When she turns back around, she is holding something dark blue.

  Michelle squeals, “Yes. Oh my God—that would be perfect.”

  Sometimes I miss my mom. This is one of those moments.

  I pull off my clothes and look at the blue thing. I don’t really know how to put it on. I try pulling it on, but it’s got shorts instead of a skirt.

  Michelle snatches it and holds it in front of me to step into. She pulls it up my body, launching my granny panties into my ass.

  “Oh my God.” I squirm away and pull it out of my butt.

  Mona laughs. “It's a romper. Don’t frown like that. It's pretty. You look pretty.”

  Michelle brushes my hair and Mona attacks with the makeup. I try to protest, but they move fast and talk over me.

  I turn and look at myself. I look different. It's not bad different or good different. It's just different, and I'm immediately uncomfortable. I hug my arms around myself.

  Michelle pulls my arms to my sides. “No fidgeting. Haven’t you seen Pretty Woman? It makes you look taller when you don’t fidget.”

  Whatever a romper is, it's uncomfortable. It's giving me constant a wedgie, and I feel like it's going to fall off my boobs at any second. It’s a strapless one piece with shorts instead of a skirt. The shorts are short and the top is low cut. I feel naked and reach for a sweater, but Michelle swats my hand. “No. No. Ewww.”

  Mona hands me a pair of heels.

  “Delicious choice. Navy sling-back kitten heels look amazing, and she shouldn’t fall in that low of a heel.”

  They examine me and I shake my head. “This is a bad idea.” I don’t wobble in the heels, because contrary to popular belief, I can walk in them. I practiced a lot in Willow's one pair.

  Michelle grabs my hand and drags me from the room. Mona follows us, and I instantly want to turn back.

  My stomach has the uneasy feeling from the night before, and I'm exhausted.

  Chapter Four

  Clubs suck.

  This is a discovery I made while being groped twice on the dance floor and shoved as I tried to wind my way through the crowds. I fell into another girl and someone spilled a drink on my foot. My shoe was sloshing with booze on the way to the bathroom.

  Now, sitting on the toilet cleaning my shoe and foot, I lean my head against the wall. I want to go home. The light in the bathroom flickers.

  I have a funny feeling in my stomach. It's the one from the other night, when Wyatt scared me.

  I swallow a
nd put my shoe back on. My toes stick to the inside, but at least it isn’t wet anymore.

  I reach for the handle on the door, but have a terrible feeling I shouldn’t open it. I hesitate and watch my fingers tremble.

  My mother's words float into my mind, “Your stomach has magic, Nene. When it tells you someone isn’t good, you run. I don’t care where you are or whom you're with. You run and you don’t stop until the magic stops.”

  A shiver comes over me. I step up onto the toilet and crouch down. My shoe almost slips off the seat, but I manage to hold myself still.

  I hold my breath and wait. The air grows cold. I expect to see my breath, but I don’t. Instead, I hear girls laughing and stumbling into the bathroom.

  One of them laughs and says, “Oh my God, he's such a loser. I can't believe she is hooking up with him.”

  I suspect it's the only chance I'll have to leave the bathroom. I open the door and run from the stall. I wash my hands quickly, never taking my eyes off the other girls. They primp in the mirror and give me weird looks.

  I run from the bathroom and get lost in the crowd again. Suddenly the club doesn’t feel so bad. Something in the air makes me happy. The music feels like it's getting under my skin and creating energy.

  The lights are flashing and pulsing to the music. It's bright for me, even though I know it's dark. My eyes are doing the weird thing again. The eerie feeling from the bathroom lessens, but my nerves are getting the best of me. I miss Willow and the quiet of our house. Maybe school was a bad choice. Maybe I should withdraw and go home.

  I shake my head at myself. Maybe I should stop being such a pansy. Classes haven’t even started yet.

  A voice speaks softly into my ear, “You want that drink now?” A hand grabs me and spins me. I turn and face Wyatt, and for a moment I'm so glad to see him. I let him pull me into him. He's been drinking, I think. He's too affectionate. Too grabby.

  I put my hands on his chest and try not to notice the way his hands feel on my bare back. Jolts of energy or sparks hit my skin where he touches. He bends down and kisses me softly. It's unexpected, but it feels right. His lips meet mine with gentle sweetness. He presses me against him and the softness of me melts into the hardness of him. Our lips make sparks when they press together. I let him devour me.