The adrenaline of the evening was finally starting to ebb. She yawned. A big yawn. Wider … wider still and she let it go until it wracked her whole body and subsided with a shiver.
Tomorrow was a huge day. High school. Sophomores. Now, suddenly, on the eve of that much-anticipated occasion, the significance of it had diminished to near nothing. Tomorrow was still a huge day, no doubt, only now for entirely different reasons.
For weeks she’d imagined how she would prepare. What she’d wear, what she’d bring. How she would arrive. This was a new era, a chance to craft a new Jessica, perhaps; one that was more popular, more outgoing. She thought about these things now as she got ready for bed. Here it was midnight on the night before that groundbreaking day and … was she forgetting anything? Honestly, the idea of thinking any more at that point was beyond her.
She changed into a sleeping shirt and looked around the room. Vague outlines of her junk surrounded her, images indistinct in the dim light—familiar details she couldn’t make out with her eyes filled in easily in her mind. Posters, some of cars, two of motorcycles, one with a horse, a painting of a dragon; gaming posters; obscure bands most of her friends hadn’t heard of. Against the wall leaned a compound bow with hunting arrows. A giant teddy bear next to it, above that a shelf with a dozen model cars and planes she’d built. An RC quad-copter. Gaming figures. More stuffed animals. And, of course, her trophies and awards. All her past “I love me” stuff from her days as a busybody ‘tween. Almost unreal to think that had ever been her. Jiu Jitsu. Dance. Gymnastics. Track. A medal for Tricking, something she’d once been good at. Even a few motocross trophies, from back when she raced 85 cc. All from another age, it seemed, a distant past when she pretended to care.
She sighed.
Maybe this was why she spent more time alone. Thinking about things. Dreaming of other worlds. Other places.
Dreaming up imaginary boyfriends.
She went over to the window and stood to the side, peering out.
Her parents were asleep. The world outside was quiet. And down there, in the playhouse, in the dark, was a stranger—a boy, a man, a guy—from God knew where, who couldn’t remember who he was. So far a perfect gentleman. What was he really like?
The playhouse was just a shadowy outline from this angle, really, but if she concentrated she could see the windows. If she had night vision goggles she could probably see through them into the darkness inside. Was he sleeping? Was he comfortable?
Was he a killer?
Would he remember some terrible thing about himself overnight? Revert to some other personality?
For a shuddering moment she wondered if she’d made a huge mistake. Maybe Bianca was right.
Maybe they should’ve told the grownups.
Suddenly the weight of it all came crashing in.
Why am I doing this?!
She’d just spent her own money, completely impulsively, on a guy she’d never met … on a guy who popped into existence in the sky, straight out of nowhere, and fell flaming to the ground.
There was no logical explanation for how he came to be there. It was straight out of fantasy-land and why did she do any of what she’d done, and just what kind of horrible mistakes had she already made …
Her knees felt weak. Almost buckled, in fact, and she went shakily to the bed and sat, fearing they would.
She tried to rationalize her actions. Nothing made any sense right then.
I’m tired. She sat dumbfounded, wondering if she was out of her mind.
Probably.
The adrenaline was definitely wearing off.
I’ll sort it out tomorrow.
She climbed all the way into bed, lay there a moment then pulled up the covers. Mind buzzing.
Drifting off to sleep.
CHAPTER 6: IMPATIENCE
The morning shone yellow on the horizon, sunrise just a few minutes old. The backyard was quiet, serene, the only activity that of the birds and squirrels getting started on the business of the day.
With a quiet bang the backdoor opened, breaking the tranquility.
Jess came out, stirring the birds to action and sending at least one squirrel scurrying for a nearby tree. She closed the door carefully, more gently, and began making her way across the yard. In her hands she carried a wicker basket, still wearing her sleep shirt, eyeing the playhouse nervously as she walked.
Her plan had been to get ready for school at the crack of dawn, before anyone else was up, then come out and check on Zac. Once out of bed, however, she found herself so anxious she came straight down, not bothering to do anything else, impatient to get to the playhouse before anyone rose.
Needing to confirm it hadn’t all been a dream.
As she passed through the kitchen she decided, at the last second, to at least bring him something to eat, to at least appear polite—and a little bit in control of herself—and so threw together a hasty basket. Every decision she’d already made, right or wrong, was made, and there was no way to take this in a different direction. When she left Zac last night she reassured him and he believed she would help. Now, as she approached the small wooden structure, emotions fighting with logic, she was terrified. Struggling with the fear of the unknown—of where he might be from, who he might be—all the while wishing she’d at least done something before coming out. No matter the freak factor of the reality of this messed up situation, those other, seemingly unimportant thoughts crowded for their share of attention. Her teeth weren’t brushed, her mouth was mungy. She had a bad case of bed-head. Her eyes were still crusty from a night of fitful sleep. She hadn’t even splashed a little water on her face. Nothing.
Focus!
Larger the playhouse grew. Closer. The thick green grass of the yard was wet with dew; a sensation underfoot she normally enjoyed, lost now behind the lump rising in her throat. This was no ordinary morning. There was nothing ordinary about anything right then, and as she drew up on the door she found herself fighting away all sorts of pounding fears, none of them remotely equal in rationality but any hope of rationality had taken total leave of her. Overriding them all was the fear the guy—this guy she so conveniently named Zac—might turn out to be dangerous after all, but then there was also the fear he might be gone, all the way to stupid fears sharing real estate in her mind like the fear he might find her ugly in the morning light. Her mind swirled with fears. What to say, though, took the lead as she reached the playhouse and paused.
She took deep breaths.
Was he still sleeping? She heard no snoring, no heavy breathing coming from inside. Desperately she composed herself, doing a poor job of it, then, heart pounding, slowly pushed open the door …
And jumped. He was sitting on the floor looking back. As if expecting her. In fact it didn’t look like he’d moved all night.
She gathered her wits. “Did you sleep?” she asked abruptly in that awkward instant, hoping it covered her reaction. Hesitating, she made a final decision, stepped inside and closed the door.
He considered it. “I don’t think so.”
It was an odd answer.
“You don’t think so?”
He seemed thoughtful.
“Have you ever forgotten who you are?”
She shook her head.
“Me neither.” Then he smiled. “At least, I don’t remember it if I did.”
It took her a second to realize he’d made a joke. She laughed. Too harsh, like it was forced or something, but it wasn’t, she was just so nervous, and he laughed too, and it was soft, and gentle, and it broke some of her tension. He was so calm, sitting there on the playhouse floor looking up at her. Non-threatening.
The heady desires of last night returned.
I think I’ve totally lost it.
“Every now and then,” he said, “an image flashes and goes away. I may have slept. Maybe I dreamed.”
He looked deep into her eyes, unable to believe the circumstances of his arrival. She gave him what she hoped was a comforting
smile.
He shook his head slowly. “I really fell from the sky?”
She put down the basket and sat on the bench. And for a moment marveled at his height. Even with him sitting on the floor and her on the bench his head wasn’t that far below her own. He was so tall! His dark hair was mussed, sticking up in places. Close enough to reach out and run her fingers through it, and she had the sudden image of doing just that. It looked so soft. In that light and from that angle he didn’t look any older than her at all. She fought the blush she felt coming.
“I brought you some breakfast.” She hurried things along, turned and took a few items from the basket. Bagels, donuts, cream cheese. A jug of juice. A few napkins. She’d just grabbed stuff. Curious, he looked through the options and selected a chocolate donut.
“Something tells me I should be hungry,” he said, examining it.
Experimentally he took a bite … then closed his eyes in rapture. The way he savored it, so deeply, so unexpectedly, almost made her think he was making fun, but he wasn’t. This wasn’t acting. The donut was a real thrill. How can he like it that much? She watched the wonderful expression on his face.
“Wow,” he said at length, relishing the chocolate goodness. He opened his eyes and took another bite. And another, finishing it. Chewing with gusto.
Jess smiled.
“Here’s some juice,” she offered.
He took the juice. She watched as he picked up another donut and ate, enjoying the look on his face. Taken with the power of that simple action. Chocolate donuts were good, no doubt, but apparently for Zac the flavor was pure bliss.
“I have to get ready for school,” she said at length, not seeing any other option. “I’ll leave you here today.” She certainly wasn’t going to go raising alarms now. “I don’t want to, but I don’t really have a choice.” She had to go do this day, but after school …
After that she had to figure this out. For real.
“No problem,” he said, then asked between bites: “Can you leave the basket?”
She nodded. Zac would stay until she got home. At least that’s what she was making herself believe. He didn’t seem to have any sense of urgency, though she herself was about to explode. The idea of going off to do such a mundane thing as “go to school” when this mystery was right here begging to be solved …
It would be a long first day.
* *
Kids thronged the halls between classes, teenage bodies everywhere. At their lockers, sitting on benches, leaning on walls, standing, talking. The cacophony of voices was nearly overwhelming.
Jess found her way among them, wide-eyed, looking for her next class. It was easy to spot the others like her; other sophomores, most of them trying at once to be noticed and yet not be noticed. To not look exactly like what they were:
Newbs.
She wore the new white flip-flops with a nice, off-white skirt and a pretty white blouse, already second-guessing her choices. She was so … white. It made her summer tan look darker, which was good, or so she’d thought when picking the outfit, but standing there now among the scores of other teenagers her uniformity of color—absence of color, really—was turning out to be little more than bad fashion. Too late now, and she found herself desperately scanning the crowds, seeking any other kid wearing an ensemble more horrible than her own. Anything to make her feel better about herself.
So far she was the only one that looked like a nurse.
“Thumbditty!” someone yelled and she jerked her head to see, heart freezing in her chest. Others took up the call: “Thumbditty!” the most dreaded—and stupid, Jess thought—word for newbie high schoolers. A form of hazing, practiced by the seniors on sophomores like herself, where one of the unlucky was singled out and made a spectacle of.
But it wasn’t for her. The calls were further away and, like watching a train wreck, unable to watch yet unable to look away, she craned over the heads of the mostly taller crowd for a glimpse.
The difference between seniors and sophomores was stark. High school was a difficult time for every kid, no doubt, but the short years between Sophomore and Senior were the most challenging of all. Boys growing beards; tall and gangly girls, legs growing faster than other parts; voices changing or already changed; young boys that sounded like men; pimples and all else. Most of the seniors, at 17 or 18, were through much of that, and so one of the first things Jess noticed about high school was that it looked like grownups walking around with kids.
No better example of that had she seen so far than now, looking at the seniors swarming the hapless tenth-grader.
The young boy was definitely on the front side of the growth curve and probably not much taller than her. Short, in other words, especially for a boy among men. Worse, the seniors were the cliché jock/bully types, probably having hit their growth spurt years ago, now fully developed, big and athletic. Able to do what they wanted in that environment, pretty much. The bodies of men with the brains and hormones of boys.
She watched along with dozens of others as the jocks made the little guy stand on a bench and sing a song. It was a crude song, accompanied by graphic gestures with his hands and, though she tried not to, Jess couldn’t keep from laughing. The tune was clever and, accompanied by the hand motions—and the utter embarrassment—of the singer, made for entertaining sport. At least they hadn’t thrown him in a dumpster, one of the other thumbditty options. If you got caught you could expect to either get tossed in the garbage or end up performing for an audience like the poor boy did now. Soldiering on, even as he turned deeper and deeper shades of red.
Maybe it was character building.
Since it was really only the cool kids that practiced thumbditty they tended to single out only the other future cool kids, the up-and-comers from the right families, or those with the athletic pedigree to be the next buttheads that would one day do the same thing. Fortunately this left Jess out, so she doubted anyone would randomly pick her for the hazing.
Still, it lent an air of nerves to the walk between classes.
She turned from the spectacle and resumed looking for her next room. The crowds were thinner now, everyone consumed by the show, and it wasn’t long before she found it. Physics. Her favorite subject, actually. She loved physics, and as she entered the room the teacher told her she could pick a seat and, being one of the first ones in, she chose a desk in the middle against the wall. Smart or not, she hated being called on, and this looked like one of the safer spots. A “no attention” zone.
On the wall next to her was a poster of a galaxy. While she arranged her books she studied the swirling mass of stars, randomly picking points of color to focus on, imagining the worlds that might be in orbit around them, hurtling around those tiny, brilliant dots.
Stargazing was one of her favorite things. The new house on the outskirts of Boise was awesome for that, the ambient light low enough to let the starlight shine through. On a clear night the sky over her house was amazingly bright, stars so visible it looked like the sky was powdered with them. Constellations, the Milky Way—a real life panorama that presented a view much like the photo she looked at now.
A red giant in one of the swirling galactic arms caught her eye, just at the outer edge, gleaming among the thousands around it. She focused on it, finding a smaller yellowish one nearby, barely visible. Were there worlds around that one? Probably. Were any like Earth?
Maybe.
What was going on out there? What things were happening on the worlds orbiting that star? What things were there out there to see? To do? As when laying in the yard behind her house she found herself dreaming, almost taken away. To be able to travel that far, to see such things. To explore.
There were so many possibilities beyond Earth.
The noise of students entering brought her back from her reverie. Everyone was filing in, rushing to beat the impending bell, talking and laughing about the thumbditty. Jess took her seat and spotted Bianca among the group, joking and cutting up with
at least three other kids. The bell rang.
“Find a seat,” the teacher urged the bustling mass of teenagers. Bianca saw Jess and came over. My one popular friend, she thought. Bianca was real popular, actually, so maybe she counted for two. However you ranked her, being Bianca’s invisible friend put Jess in reach of just about anyone. If Jess wanted to hang at the cool parties, or with the cool people, she could. Only, she never wanted to. When she and Bianca hung it was usually without others. Unless of course you counted the occasional hang-out with one of Bianca’s “cool” boyfriends.
Why B ever befriended her escaped her. Maybe it was because they lived in the same, affluent neighborhood. Whatever the cause, Bianca had indeed become her best friend. B was a native Idahoan, born and raised, with a long history among the popular cliques going back as far as the local elementary school, making her one of the most visible girls around.
Absently Jess wondered if Bianca would get thumbdittied.
“Did you see that?” her friend asked as she took a desk beside her and sat. Everyone was finding seats and making noise, giving them a few moments to talk.
“Yeah,” Jess nodded. With a slight twinge she glanced at Bianca’s sneakers and jeans. Beautiful Bianca, covering up for the first day of school. For a moment she felt bad about dragging her friend into the woods, causing her to ruin her perfectly planned day. Jess glanced at her own legs, bare beneath the skirt, feet brown against the new white flip-flops. Sporting a few small cuts of her own from last night’s ordeal, but somehow it didn’t look the same. Her nails were short and unpainted, her skin tougher. On her the tiny marks looked like nothing. Normal wear and tear. Bianca was just too perfect for such everyday flaws.
“I heard they’re going for Toby after school.”
This caught Jessica’s interest. “Really?”
Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1) Page 5
