The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  Breathlessly, they erupted through the hall doors as the final bell rang. Dr. Morris was pulling the classroom door shut when they careened around the corner and bolted through the doorway just before she closed it. Both girls giggled under their breaths as they nudged past Dr. Morris, who watched with her evil eye while they hurried to their seats.

  “Nice of you to join us today, Miss Jenkins and Miss Schmidt.”

  Chels and Aimee glanced at each other, stifled the urge to continue sniggering, and ignored the stares from other students, most who were still getting settled themselves. Without waiting for a response, Dr. Morris promptly proceeded to give instructions for the exam.

  “Okay, class, quiet down. Everybody put your books away. No more studying. If you aren’t ready by now, it’s too late.” Dr. Morris paced across the front of the room, counting the number of students in each aisle, then handing a pile of papers to the first student while motioning to pass the tests back. She continued giving instructions while she peered over the top of her glasses at the class. “You know the drill. Make sure your name, date, and subject are on the top of each page. I’ll count off one point for each item missing.” Several students groaned, but Dr. Morris proceeded without paying any attention. “Essay questions need to be in paragraph form, complete sentences, and be sure to use proper grammar, punctuation, and spelling. You guys are going to be in college this fall, so write as if you’re literate.” A couple snickers rumbled across the room. “Validate your statements. Remember, I can tell if you’re trying to dupe your way through, so don’t be tempted. Okay? Once everyone gets a test you’ll have fifty minutes.”

  Aimee waited tensely.

  Dr. Morris looked over her glasses again searching the faces in front of her. “Well then, you can begin.”

  Aimee checked the clock above Dr. Morris’s desk, and then discreetly glanced over her shoulder to the back of the room. Covertly she scanned the desks. Dylan sat at the end of the next aisle surrounded by a couple of his football buddies. Her gaze stopped at Dylan’s desk, then moved up to lock onto his face. Right at that second he looked up, catching her lame attempt to be subtle. A smile stretched across his face and he nodded. Aimee smiled back nervously. Blake, the boy behind Aimee, poked a finger in her back and whispered, “Hey, wake up.” He pointed at Heather in front of Aimee about to dump the pile of tests over her shoulder. She reeled around and grabbed the tests and took one for herself before passing the rest to Blake.

  “Sorry,” said Aimee.

  Blake groaned. Aimee stared down at the test, but suddenly her brain clouded. Like Blake, she groaned. She grumbled to herself. Come on, Aimee. FOCUS! Aimee slowly read and reread each essay question, but answers would not register. Dylan’s gorgeous face kept interrupting any attempt to concentrate on the test. She couldn’t breathe. She pulled at her collar to loosen its chokehold. Chelsea glanced over at Aimee with a puzzled look. Aimee shrugged and pointed at the first question.

  Without glancing up, Aimee noticed Dr. Morris strolling down the aisle. She paused at Aimee's desk and checked her paper. Dr. Morris's fingers grazed over the first question, then she peered at Aimee curiously. She leaned into Aimee's space and whispered, “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I think so. I haven’t been feeling well today.” Aimee kept her eyes glued to her test. Hmm, not so hard, she thought. Aimee figured it was wise to lay the groundwork for when she would ask to go see Mrs. North.

  Dr. Morris lingered for what seemed like forever. Her stare burned into the side of Aimee's face, and Aimee felt heat spread across her cheeks. It settled into her ears and turned them a nice cherry red. Aimee stunk at faking. Her father said her ears always gave her away when Aimee tried to tell a lie, even a little white one. Aimee was sure Dr. Morris had to notice the beacons on either side of her head. She froze, her lips pursed, expecting a siege of scrutiny. Without taking her eyes off the page, Aimee finally heard Dr. Morris's footsteps proceed down the aisle. Aimee melted into her desk. With a deep breath, her heart started to beat again. She tried to shake the cobwebs from her brain. She flipped the page hoping the next set of questions made sense. The test was short, three pages, covering material she had studied, but now it seemed like she was reading Greek. She was definitely screwed.

  All right, enough, Aimee. Geez, you know this stuff. Aimee fumed. She gulped another breath, clasped her eyes shut, then exhaled slowly. She opened her eyes and looked at the test again. Finally, Dylan’s face erased from her brain, and her pen started flying over the page struggling to keep up with her thoughts. She kept this pace until about a minute before the bell when she finally looked up.

  Aimee was the last one holding her test.

  Dr. Morris peered over her dark rimmed glasses. “Finished?”

  Aimee nodded and tossed her test into the basket Dr. Morris was clutching. The bell rang and before Dr. Morris could remind everyone about the homework due on Friday, kids escaped into the hall, chattering loudly while they disappeared into the herd of students stampeding to second period. Easing out of her seat, Aimee looked down and noticed a pair of new athletic shoes a couple inches from her feet. She straightened quickly and came face to face with Dylan. His luscious brown eyes and his delicious lips captured her full attention.

  “Hi,” Aimee stuttered. She glanced over at Chelsea, who was patiently waiting on her. Chels grinned, and then looked at Dylan.

  Chels asked, “Hey, Dylan, how’s it goin’?”

  “It’s good,” Dylan answered without taking his eyes off Aimee.

  “I better get to class. Aimee, I’ll see you after school. Don’t forget me,” said Chelsea as she grabbed her pack and headed down the aisle.

  Dylan started, “So, how you doin’?”

  “Fine…uh, I’m great…how are…”

  Robert Moore interrupted, “Hey Dylan, come on dude, we’ll be late to class if we don’t get movin’.” He pushed by, knocked Aimee's shoulder and shoved her forward. She grabbed onto Dylan to keep from falling over into a desk, straightened up, then whirled around and frostily glared at Robert. He gave her a crazy bitch stare.

  “Go on, I’ll be there in a minute.” Dylan shot Robert a get lost look. Robert shook his head, then glanced back at Dylan once more before disappearing into the hall.

  “Well, geez, what was that about?” Aimee giggled nervously.

  “Nothing. Don’t pay any attention to my friends. They act like animals, you know, no manners. They’re all right though.”

  Aimee started to grab her pack, but he was already reaching for it. “Here, you might need this for next period. What do you have?”

  She flung the pack over her shoulder and they started up the aisle. Dylan felt so close she could feel the warmth from his body. She hesitated suddenly remembering she was skipping the next class, and the rest of her classes for that matter. “I have trig with Mr. Olsen. Where are you heading?” Aimee asked as he followed her out into the crowded hallway. He continued to stroll with her, obviously not in a hurry to get to second period. Students shuffled around them from every direction, knocking them into each other as they pushed past.

  “Sorry,” he said with a soothing smile when he bumped into her a second time to avoid running head first into Mrs. Long, the principal’s secretary. “Uh…physics,” he finally answered.

  Aimee wrinkled her nose. “Yuk. I hated physics. I had Lopez. It was a pain. Actually, he was the pain. The material was easy. I’m so glad I’m through with sciences, especially that class. Anyway, it won’t be long now until the end of school, and we’ll both be through with everything. Well, that is until next fall.”

  “Yeah, I can’t wait. I’m sick of this friggin’ place.”

  “Me, too.” Aimee smiled. It felt nice, like it did last summer, to chat with Dylan.

  “Well, I better get to class. We’re still on for tomorrow night?”

  “Yep,” Aimee replied nonchalantly so he wouldn’t detect her pathetic anticipation.

  “Great. Ei
ght o’clock.”

  Aimee stopped by the girls’ restroom. She asked, “Do you need directions?”

  He stopped, too, and shifted his body closer into hers. Their eyes locked again. Her stomach started to roll, and she could feel that nauseating feeling, not the kind like you want to puke because you’ve eaten too many greasy fries in the cafeteria, but the kind where you can’t breathe because the most gorgeous guy in school is a couple inches from you staring dreamily into your eyes and intently hanging on every word. Finally he said, “Nope. I have your phone number, and Chelsea told me you live down the street from her, so I’m cool. If I get lost, I’ll call.”

  “Just look for my yellow Bug in the driveway.”

  “Okay, but I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” The tardy bell interrupted their conversation. Dylan quickly grinned at Aimee before he spun around and jogged down the hall, and the few remaining kids in the hallway started to sprint to make it to class before the bell ended.

  Aimee escaped into the restroom and nervously searched under the stalls to make sure she was alone. She flipped open her cell phone, checked the time, then decided to wait five minutes before going to Mrs. North for her migraine - an ailment from her usual repertoire of illnesses; anxiety, depression, delusions. A couple minutes later she checked her phone again. Nine thirty-four. Okay, show time. This didn’t feel right, but she knew she had to get home to prepare. Cautiously, she cracked open the door half a foot and surveyed the hallway. It looked deserted. She hurried out, and like a rat, she scampered along the wall towards the nurse’s office. Keeping her eyes affixed to the floor, she sped up.

  She sharply rounded the final corner of the hallway. Two bodies blocked her path. Before she could stop, Aimee slammed into one of them; Brandi Peters, Dylan’s ex-girlfriend. The force knocked Brandi back towards the trophy case. Nicole Weber, Brandi’s best friend, jumped sideways to keep Brandi from crashing into her. Nicole let out a gasp. She stretched to grab Brandi’s arm, at the same time Brandi caught her balance. Nicole held her friend’s arms tightly with both hands, using every ounce of her tiny frame to keep Brandi pinned. Brandi’s face was distorted. Her eyes tapered into dark slits, then her voice spewed out venom.

  “Watch yourself, bitch!”

  “I’m…I’mmm sooo sorry!” Aimee spit out while she teetered forward quickly to pick up Brandi’s designer purse off the tiled floor.

  Brandi yanked the purse from Aimee's grasp. Aimee backed up against the brick wall, every nerve in her body on fire, and stared into Brandi’s eyes. Brandi shot daggers at her. Sweat dewed up on Aimee's forehead. Her fists clenched at her sides. Aimee didn’t know if her hands balled to defend herself or if it was the adrenaline pulsing through her body, but she couldn’t pry them open. Nicole kept her iron-clad grip locked around her friend’s arm, and both gave Aimee one final death stare before they slithered past.

  With her body frozen to the wall, Aimee shut her eyes and felt tears well up behind the lids. Her heart pounded furiously inside her chest. It prepared to explode. The thumping crept up to her temples and migrated behind her eyes where the incessant beating settled into a steady drone. A couple of students sauntered past her. She heard one of them mouth a snide comment about her appearance and the other one snickered. A few seconds later her limbs finally began to melt and she managed to peel herself from the wall. Feeling like a limp mess, Aimee practically fell into the nurse’s office. The pain behind her eyes seemed all too familiar, not exactly like one of her migraines, but more menacing. Oddly, she knew the signs. She didn’t have much time left now.

  Chapter 5 Destiny

  Mrs. Krause, the office assistant, looked up when the door chime beeped. It took one second and her smile faded. She sprang from her chair to grab Aimee's arm.

  “Miss Schmidt, please let me help you. Excuse me for saying so, sugar, but you don’t look so well,” she said in her deep Georgian drawl with her eyebrows scrunched tightly together. “Here, have a seat. I’ll go get Mrs. North right away.” She paused at the door and turned back. “Will you be okay for a minute until I get back? You don’t feel like fainting, do you?”

  Aimee shook her head once. “No, just let me sit. I’ll be fine,” she said before crumbling like a rag doll into the chair. Her backpack spilled from her shoulder to the floor. The little catastrophe with Brandi had completely unnerved her. Every ounce of fortitude drained from her body. She hated confrontation, and clearly Brandi was out for blood; Aimee's blood. Of all the things she needed today was to get on Brandi's hate list. For some reason Aimee felt she had already been on it. No wonder her head was pounding for real. No faking necessary now.

  She leaned into the back of the chair resting her head against the wall. With her eyes pinched closed, Aimee rubbed her temples gently with her fingertips. The pounding was more intense, like an ice pick being jabbed into her brain. Her heart fluttered wildly. The room spun slowly, but fortunately she didn’t feel dizzy. Dizzy meant nausea. Aimee didn’t do nausea.

  And then it happened with no other warnings!

  The room went black - dead black - even though light should have been streaming in from the hallway through the small window above the door. Before she could scream, her body ejected from the chair, the force snapping her and the chair over. In less than a second she was entombed in total, frigid darkness, her body shooting through the sinister tunnel just like the nightmare. She fell through the barrenness too alert to be dreaming. Her nerve endings sizzled, and she knew any moment her body would burst into flames. The pain was unbearable. Aimee prayed for the end. She screamed, “Let me die!” No one granted her request.

  One last time Aimee opened her eyes. A white light soared straight at her, moving faster than lightning across a stormy sky. She veered her face to avoid being seared by the heat, but before she could twist away, she hit something hard with such a force every bone in her body should have been mangled.

  But she wasn’t dead! She wasn’t even hurt. Too scared to move, Aimee remained on the floor motionless for a few moments, reigning in her panic. Finally, she jumped effortlessly to her feet, but crouched to protect herself from whatever or whoever might be waiting. She pivoted completely around keeping one foot cemented to the gray tiled floor.

  She wondered, Where the heck am I? Oddly, this place seemed familiar. Aimee was certain she had been here before now. She heard a couple voices behind her and spun around to locate the source. She immediately scrunched down behind a bookcase to hide. The voices, a male and a female, continued unaware of her presence. Aimee quickly surveyed her surroundings before deciding she needed to sneak closer. She saw a small aisle about three feet wide between the dozen or so racks of books to her left. The walls, the floor, almost every inch of the room had books. It suddenly dawned on her where she was. Displays of paperbacks, textbooks, magazines, and assorted University of the Cascades paraphernalia covered the room.

  She had landed in the bookstore just off campus in Eugene!

  But why here? Aimee looked back to the end of the room where the voices continued. One now sounded very annoyed. She scanned the room for a path to crawl through undetected. She wasn’t certain if they could hear her or see her, or even sense her presence. This seemed so different from her other travels. She had always landed near the scene, passively witnessing the action, but not part of it. Aimee could see them, and she felt positive they could see her, too. She decided to stay low and get closer so she crawled towards them on all fours.

  She was maybe fifteen feet away. No one had spotted her. She remained scrunched down. She glanced up and saw a display of discounted suspense novels concealed her. How fitting, Aimee thought.

  The woman’s whimpering snatched her attention. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to them. I can’t find them.”

  The man’s voice got louder. “Hurry up and keep your fuckin' mouth shut.”

  Aimee heard the woman rummaging through the counter’s drawers obviously searching for something. She
barely tilted forward and peeked around her barricade. The man’s face wasn’t visible. His light brown hair was matted in dreadlocks which hung half way down his back. His body half blocked the woman, but Aimee could see the small gun he was wielding side to side in the girl's direction.

  The woman's crying escalated. She begged, “Please…please don’t hurt me!”

  He snarled through his teeth, “Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you!”

  Suddenly from across the room, drifting up the stairwell, Aimee heard more voices. They heard them, too. Their heads whipped towards the sound. For the first time Aimee could clearly see their faces. Heavy, black stubble shaded his face. His eyes, what Aimee could see, were dark, cold as ice. Although the room was cool, sweat ran down his cheeks into his beard. His forehead displayed a fresh jagged scar etched across it and a small, dark green teardrop was tattooed under the corner of his eye. The young woman looked like an animal about to be slain. Her eyes were filled with fear. Her knuckles had turned white from the relentless grasp she had on her chair. She pulled her stare back to the gun, away from the sound of the unsuspecting voices. Her bottom lip trembled. Aimee sensed desperate thoughts flowing through the woman's mind. For a fraction of a second the woman hesitated, and then she acted.

  “NO, DOOON’T!” Aimee screeched as she leaped to her feet, then propelled her body through the air towards the assailant. The startled man spun around. Without a word he fired the gun. The bullet whizzed past Aimee and embedded into the bookcase beside her. The woman, fueled by her own adrenaline, fused her small frame to his, and clamped her legs around his waist as she clawed at his eyes like a wild panther. With one forceful twist of his torso, he threw her off into the concrete wall. The man reared back his arm with the gun still locked in his grip, and with the swiftness of a tennis player spiking a ball, he backhanded the woman. Aimee heard the sickening thud at the same time the woman screamed out. Her eyes glazed instantly, then her body slid down the wall leaving a crimson colored streak stain on the bricks behind her.