Pawn (Nightmares Trilogy #1)

by Davis, Sophie

  “Not yours,” Elizabeth responded, reading between the lines.

  Before I could make up some other reason for the inquiry, Devon changed the subject. “So, I figured we should start looking for prom dresses.”

  I shot her a grateful smile.

  “Oh, Eel, who are you going to go with?” Elizabeth cooed.

  Great, my father was missing, my dreams were coming true – but not in the way everyone hoped for – and now I needed to worry about finding a prom date.

  “I don’t know. Maybe we could just go together,” I said. “The four of us are all single now.” I turned to face Devon. “We are all still single, right?”

  To my dismay, guilt filled Devon’s features. Either she’d already forgiven Rick, or was about to.

  “Dev, really? Come on. There are a million guys who would love to date you. Why do you keep taking that loser back? For such a smart girl, you are really stupid sometimes,” I said.

  “I haven’t taken him back,” she protested. “We are having dinner this week. Just to talk, though.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the car then. I rarely spoke up about my feelings regarding Rick, save our requisite bashing sessions after one of his many screw-ups. There wasn’t a point. Trying to talk Devon out of dating Rick was about as productive as telling a two-year-old that the Easter Bunny wasn’t real; neither one was willing to give up the illusion.

  I think my outburst surprised all three of us. Devon managed to look even guiltier, like she’d disappointed me. And Elizabeth scooted back in her seat, suddenly finding her cuticles incredibly interesting.

  “I’m sorry, Devon,” I told her after a couple long minutes. “I just hate how unhappy he makes you.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’re right.” She wouldn’t look at me, though, making me regret my rant. No, I decided. I don’t regret it. Devon needed to hear it from someone, and if her best friend couldn’t tell her, then who could?

  My cell buzzed in my purse as we made our way to the mall entrance. I figured it was my mother checking to make sure we’d made it to the mall without encountering any nefarious people. Honestly, I had no idea what she was so worried about. It was the middle of the day and Westwood wasn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal activity. I mentally prepared myself to launch into the list of reasons Mom needed to back off and start trusting me. When I saw the display, though, my blood froze in my veins. My mother wasn’t the caller. Jamieson Wentworth was.

  I swore under my breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Nothing,” I muttered, sending Jamieson to voice mail. “Jamieson is calling to warn me off her boyfriend, again.”

  “Boyfriend? That Kannon guy is her boyfriend?” Elizabeth asked, confused.

  “No, but apparently she hasn’t gotten the memo. She thinks she has some claim to him,” I told her, shoving the phone into the bottom of my purse.

  “You should ask him to our prom,” Elizabeth said decisively. “That would really ruffle Jamieson’s panties.”

  Devon snorted. “Now that is a good idea.”

  “I barely know him,” I mumbled. And I doubt he wants to go to the prom with a whack job, I added silently. Elizabeth’s suggestion sent my imagination into overdrive, however. Before I could stop myself, I was picturing Kannon in a tux with a red rose boutonniere and me standing beside him in a gown that perfectly matched the green of his irises.

  I shook my head to clear the ridiculous fantasy. First things first, I reminded myself. Get Kannon to call you back.

  My friends and I traipsed from one department store to the next. We tried on gowns that ranged from too expensive to overly revealing. We took pictures with our camera phones so we could analyze them later.

  While Elizabeth was in the dressing room at Nordstrom, Devon pulled me aside. “So, I did a little more internet research before I came to get you. That’s why I was late,” she began. I grinned in spite of myself. Of course she had. “On NDEs and electromagnetic sensitivity,” she continued. “I didn’t find any credible sources, but there are some people out there who believe that dying and coming back can alter a person’s brain functions.”

  Great, I have brain damage.

  “One guy in Idaho, or some other fly-over state, believes that certain people who have had an NDE can predict the future. Like they see it in their dreams.”

  My palms immediately went clammy. The dress hanger in my hands felt like butter, slippery and hard to hold. Devon’s words struck a chord, vibrating in my mind. People who have had an NDE can predict the future…they see it in their dreams.

  Were all of my freakish quirks related? Did Kannon really dream our meeting before it happened? Ten days ago I would have said no way. Now, I clung to the hope that Devon’s research was right, a concrete explanation for every abnormal facet of my otherwise normal life.

  “Maybe Kannon’s déjà vu thing isn’t so farfetched.” Devon was still talking, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Have you had any dreams came true?”

  The confirmation was on the tip of my tongue. The truth that I had been withholding was ready to ride out on a wave of relief.

  “Is this dress amazing, or what?” Elizabeth asked, startling both Devon and me. The dress hanger slipped through my fingers, becoming a puddle of taffeta and lace on the plush carpet.

  Elizabeth twirled in front of a tri-fold mirror, blonde hair spilling down her back like a shimmery curtain, blood-red silk cascading from thin straps to pool around her ankles.

  “You look great,” I managed, swallowing thickly.

  Elizabeth focused on Devon and turned her thumbs up, then down, seeking a unanimous vote. Devon gave the gown a thumbs up.

  “It’s settled. We have a winner,” Elizabeth declared, clapping her hands excitedly. She headed into the dressing room to change. She paused with one hand on the doorknob. “What’s with the serious faces? We’re prom dress shopping; it’s not life or death.”

  If only you knew, I thought.

  Devon agreed to stop at Amy’s Thai on the way home so I could pick up dinner for Mom and me. I hadn’t checked my phone since Jamieson’s call, but assumed if Mom’s plans for the evening had changed she would have called one of my friends when I didn’t answer.

  With an assortment of primary-colored curry in hand, I unlocked my front door. Mom was still sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open, yellow legal pads scattered. I set up two TV trays in the living room and fixed us each a glass of water, since that was the only unexpired beverage in the house. We ate in companionable silence. My mother’s mind focused on the trial she was working on and mine cycled through what Devon had told me at Nordstrom.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Jamieson Wentworth called,” Mom said as I rose to put our dishes in the sink.

  I froze, one empty plate perched in each hand. “What did she want?” I asked, working hard to sound only mildly interested. Calling my cell phone to bitch me out was one thing; calling my house and talking to my mother was another.

  “Not sure. She called while I was in the shower. I heard the phone ring and checked the answering machine, but she didn’t leave a message. But it was the Wentworths’ number on caller ID,” Mom explained.

  “Okay, thanks,” I told her, hurrying to the kitchen so she wouldn’t hear my heart beating a frantic rhythm in my chest.

  “You aren’t friends with her again, are you?” my mother called after me. “That girl is trouble, Endora Lee.”

  Tell me about it.

  “No, Mom,” I told her. “It’s probably something to do with lacrosse.” Or the fact we are obsessed with the same boy, I added silently.

  I left the dishes in the sink for Mom and made a mad dash for my bedroom. A mountain of schoolwork still waited to be finished, and I figured that would be a good distraction since shopping hadn’t worked.

  I had yet to check my cell phone. Gingerly, I perched it on the edge of my desk and engaged the device in a staring contest. The phone won. Eight miss
ed calls: six from Jamieson’s landline, one from Mandy, and one from Kannon. Surprisingly, only one voice mail.

  The solitary message turned out to be from Mandy. She wanted to talk about the party in the Vines, and asked if I would drive her to school the next morning. I felt horrible, but I had no desire to talk to her. Instead, I simply texted Mandy to inform her that I would gladly collect her at 7:00 a.m.

  There was no way I was calling Jamieson back. I didn’t have the energy to trade verbal insults with my former best friend. Kannon, though, was different. He and I needed to talk. My finger was poised over the send button, with Kannon’s number highlighted on my screen, when suddenly the phone vibrated in my hand. It was him. Did dying give you ESP?

  I took a deep breath.

  “Hey,” I breathed into the mouthpiece.

  “Endora, finally. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about wanting to talk.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I spent the day shopping with Devon and Elizabeth,” I babbled like he knew who they were.

  “I didn’t mean to freak you out last night.” Straight to the point. That was probably for the best - no reason to drag this out longer than necessary.

  “You didn’t. Well, you did. But I overreacted. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. It’s just that Jamieson and I have history, and pretending to sympathize with me is something she would do,” I rambled nervously.

  “I am not into petty games,” Kannon said seriously. “I’m too old for that.”

  “She started it,” I replied, because that made me sound mature. Inhaling deeply to regroup, I continued, “I’m sorry. I get it now. This has nothing to do with her. I do want to talk about the whole…dying thing.”

  “What are you doing right now? Can I come over? Or maybe we could meet somewhere?” Kannon sounded desperate, like there was more riding on the conversation than two people commiserating over a near-death experience.

  I didn’t respond. I wanted to see Kannon. And not just because he was the first person I’d met like me. I genuinely wanted to spend time with him, which was absurd since I barely knew him. Devon was right; I was channeling Elizabeth and her silly soul mate notion.

  “Endora? You still there?” Kannon asked.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” I hurriedly replied. “I don’t know about tonight. My mom is home, and I doubt she’ll let me go out right now. How about tomorrow? I have practice until five, but maybe we could meet at seven?”

  “I can do that. Where?”

  “The Moonlight Diner. It’s on the county line between Westwood and Baltimore.” The words were out before I’d given them much thought. Why had I picked the Moonlight Diner of all places? Two birds, one stone. Henry Haverty said my father was a regular. Maybe he’d be there. At the very least, I could quiz Mr. Haverty on my father’s habits.

  “I’ll be there,” Kannon promised. “Dream well, Endora Lee.”

  Dream well. Those were the same words he’d said to me at Elizabeth’s party. A simple goodnight would have sufficed. Then again, when your dreams have a tendency to come true, having pleasant ones was preferable.

  “You too,” I said softly.

  Homework forgotten, I crawled into bed. It was still fairly early, 9:15pm according to my phone, but I was exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to sleep. I closed my eyes. In no time I succumbed to the exhaustion.

  Chapter Eleven

  Balloons and streamers in Carolina blue and white hung from the ceiling. My classmates were dressed to the nines, the girls wearing beautiful long gowns and the boys looking uncomfortable in rented tuxedos. Cooper Byrd had removed his bow tie, and now had it wrapped around his forehead like Rambo. His cheeks were bright red, flushed from the rum he had hidden in a flask in his pants pocket. Elizabeth stood beside him, one strap of her red dress falling down her shoulder.

  The Grand Ballroom at Turf Valley Country Club was warm, but goosebumps peppered my bare arms. I pulled the shawl resting on my shoulders tighter to ward off the chill.

  “Have I told you how amazing you look?” His breath tickled my neck as he spoke in my ear. His lips were so close they brushed my skin, causing a pop of electricity to accompany his greeting.

  I smiled, turning my face so our lips would meet. The kiss was soft and light, barely more than a peck, but his touch made every inch of my body tingle. Kannon often joked that he wasn’t sure whether I was attracted to him or addicted to the electricity that made all my synapses fire.

  “You look pretty good yourself,” I told him, straightening the red rose fastened to his lapel. “Have you seen Devon? I think they are about to announce prom king and queen.”

  Kannon averted his eyes, seemingly interested in couples dancing to some Bieber song the DJ had put on. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded.

  “It’s nothing,” Kannon replied, but he still wouldn’t look at me. “I saw her sneaking off with that kid she came with. They looked pretty, um, close.”

  I laughed, relaxing at his benign answer. He was embarrassed to tell me that he’d seen my best friend sneaking away from prom to get busy with her date. If he thought he was telling me something surprising or somehow betraying Devon, he needn’t have worried. The first thing she would do after she finished her eighth grade make-out session was come find me and fill me in on the details.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Kannon suggested, turning pleading green eyes on me. “I really need some fresh air.”

  There was something indecipherable in his expression, and the urgency in his words made no sense. Sure, the ballroom was stuffy and I didn’t feel much like dancing, but I wasn’t exactly desperate to escape my prom. A shiver ran up my spine. The uneasy feeling that Kannon’s presence sometimes still gave me made my stomach drop.

  “I’d rather stay here. Like I said, they are about to announce king and queen.”

  “Eel, please,” he begged. “I really want to get out of here for a couple of minutes.” Kannon grabbed my hand without waiting for my response. He began dragging me through the sea of dancers, towards the glass doors leading to a patio.

  While skin-to-skin contact always created a spark, the electricity coursing through my arm was stronger than normal. My fingers burned, my bicep quivered, and loose strands of my hair danced before my eyes like live wires.

  “Kannon, you’re hurting me!” I protested.

  I tried to pull my hand free, but it proved impossible. If anything, my fingers curled tighter around his. Kannon said nothing. He simply picked up his pace, shoving people out of our way.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded, fear causing my voice to waver.

  Kannon turned, mouth set in a grim line. His lips moved, but his words were drowned out by a loud, repetitive beeping noise – the fire alarm.

  “Everyone remain calm and move towards the nearest exit,” Principal Beam said over the DJ’s microphone.

  “Devon,” I whispered.

  Somehow over the cacophony of alarms and my classmates’ frightened murmuring, Kannon heard me say her name. He shook his head, chestnut waves bouncing off his forehead. The electrical impulses running through my body intensified, causing my knees to go weak. Kannon wrapped an arm around my waist, and half-dragged, half-carried me the rest of the way through the ballroom.

  A steady, rhythmic beeping woke me from the nightmare. Disoriented, I shot up in bed, expecting to be surrounded by smoke and flames. My heart raced a mile a minute, and cold sweat bathed my face and neck. The first rays of morning light illuminated the curtains hanging over the window, casting an eerie bluish glow across the room. The awareness that I was alone in my own bedroom caused me to relax.

  “Just a dream,” I mumbled, even managing a small laugh at the visceral reaction to an imagined scene.

  My legs shook slightly with the aftermath of adrenaline as I swung them over the side of the mattress and reached for the off button on the alarm clock. Monday morning, my least favorite day of th
e week.

  I padded to the bathroom adjoined to the bedroom and began my daily routine on autopilot. The cold water washed away the feeling of impending doom and woke my sluggish brain. By the time I sat in front of my vanity, hair dripping water down my back, I felt silly for having reacted like a child being chased by the boogeyman.

  At 6:55 a.m. I pulled the Bug to a stop in front of Mandy’s rural home. She must have been watching for me, because the front door flew open the instant I pulled the parking brake. Mandy called goodbye to her parents as she bounded down the steps.

  “Morning,” I told her with a smile, once she was securely in the passenger seat.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she replied. “I know it’s a pain to go so far out of your way first thing in the morning.”

  Mandy’s house was certainly out of the way, but knowing firsthand what it was like to be carless, I didn’t mind.

  On the thirty-minute ride to Westwood High, Mandy entertained me with the events of her weekend. Like Elizabeth had intimated, Mandy had met a boy from St. Paul’s and he’d even called her just to talk Sunday afternoon. She was giddy at the prospect of going on a real date with the boy, Matthew Horcowitz. I envied her a little. Meeting Kannon at a diner to discuss our death experiences and subsequent electrical problems was a far cry from a romantic dinner followed by a make-out session in the back row of a movie theater.

  I promised my friend that we could go shopping before the big day, since Mandy claimed she had nothing to wear. Since I’m considerably taller and leaner, I had nothing in my closet to offer.

  The main lobby of Westwood High served as the social epicenter for its students. Everyone from newly minted freshmen to the seasoned seniors congregated there before the first bell to catch up on the latest gossip.

  The instant Mandy and I entered the sea of students, a wave of vertigo washed over me. My knees felt weak and I reached for Mandy to steady myself. Devon’s face flashed through my mind.

  “Thanks for returning my calls,” her voice sounded in my mind.