Not even a scratch.
But why would there be?
It had only been a dream.
I gazed out the window to the left of my bed. I couldn’t see the lake through the trees. I sighed and took a few good stretches before throwing my covers off. The sound of footsteps coming down the hall caught my attention just as I was about to step onto the hardwood floor. My mom appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, her arms folded across her chest.
“You’re up,” she said. The smile she wore was perfectly pleasant. Wide. Bright. Cheery. It wasn’t like her smile at all, in other words.
This couldn’t be good.
“So?” she began, expectantly.
Nope, no way in hell this was good.
“So…um…hi?” I tried, dubiously returning her smile.
“So, are you going to explain to me why you were passed out on our front porch when I got home from work last night? Or maybe we should save that conversation for after you’ve taken something for that killer headache I’m sure you have? I hear cold showers are good for hangovers, too.”
It was several moments before I realized just what I was being accused of. “Whoa. What? Mom…are you serious?”
“Quite.”
“Mom—come on! I didn’t…I’ve never…I’m only seventeen Mom! I would never…”
“I know how old my daughter is, thank you very much.”
“Mom, you can’t seriously be accusing me of this! I don’t drink! You know me!”
My mom bit her lip, as though she was actually considering my words. But then she shook her head.
“You know you’re right—I’m jumping to conclusions.” Sarcasm was one gift I got from Mom. Her voice was dripping with it. “So then, Alexandra Louise Layton, please tell me the real reason you were passed out on our front porch last night, surrounded by empty beer cans?”
What the hell? Beer cans? Seriously? I’d been framed, clearly. But now she was using my full name, too—so there was no way I’d be getting out of this one unscathed.
Damage control, I thought desperately. What can I say to minimize the damage?
Of course, it occurred to me then that I didn’t have even the beginnings of a good excuse to give her.
Because what the hell was even going on here?
Freaking beer cans?
“Well?” my mom prompted. “Are you going to talk?”
“I don’t know what I…I…”
“What was that, young lady?”
“Nothing,” I said, turning over possible excuses in my mind.
My mom cleared her throat expectantly.
“Look, Mom—I think I may have been sleepwalking,” I said quickly. Yeah, it was lame. But it was the first rational thought that came to mind. “I had a really bad nightmare… a really, really bad nightmare, and I remember passing out—in my dream I mean—but I don’t know how I got on the porch, I mean… Didn’t Dad use to have problems with sleepwalking? I’m pretty sure it’s hereditary, I should probably—”
“Right,” Mom interrupted, still smiling. “You’re grounded. Indefinitely. Maybe for life.” My unjust sentence dealt, she started to turn away, but hesitated. “Alex, I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks—but we’ve taught you better than that. You know alcohol is not the answer.”
Yes I do Mom, yes I do.
I sighed, shaking my head at her retreating back, but I didn’t argue. I knew that it wouldn’t do me any good right now. I’d talk to her later, after she’d—hopefully—calmed down.
Besides, I needed to work out what had happened for myself.
My eyes drifted to my left arm.
My perfectly healthy, injury free left arm.
“Oh, and Alex?“ came Mom’s voice from down the hall. “You need to go apologize to your sister. You were supposed to drive her to soccer practice, since I was working an extra shift. Remember? She said you were nowhere to be found all day yesterday.”
“All day…”
I didn’t even remember most of yesterday, I realized. And suddenly I felt like crawling back into bed.
I didn’t go back to sleep, but I did spend several hours lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. And my dramatic sinking into a puddle of misery and confusion was interrupted only by a light knock on the door.
“Come in,” I called hoarsely.
The door opened and my little sister floated in.
And yes I do mean float, because my sister didn’t really walk anywhere—she floated, as best I could describe it; every step was deliberate and fell silently. It probably had something to do with the ten years of dance lessons she’d taken. Or maybe she just got all of the grace genes our parents had to offer—because I definitely didn’t get any of them.
Our differences didn’t end there, either; if my sister and I didn’t share the same last name, most people probably wouldn’t believe we were related.
My thirteen-year-old sister was, in a word, gorgeous. While I was clearly my Irish father’s child, with the fiery red hair to prove it, she was practically a carbon copy of a younger version of my mother. Her eyes, normally wide and expectant, were a brilliant, soft shade of mahogany that made my green ones look dull and mucky by comparison, and her perfectly flawless skin was naturally tan—it looked especially so when she stood next to my pale and lightly freckled self.
Besides that, my sister constantly looked like she’d just stepped off a runway. Every hair was always in place, every outfit always perfectly coordinated.
As for me? I lived my life in well-worn jeans, flip-flops, and t-shirts. Every now and then I’d throw on a necklace, maybe a pair of earrings just to change things up. I wasn’t necessarily anti-fashion. To be honest I was just kind of lazy when it came to that stuff—or overwhelmed maybe. Like… Lora had a cardigan in something like twenty different colors. Pretty sure no one needs that many cardigans, do they? And all the accessories to perfectly match them? No. They do not.
Still, despite our differences in appearances and otherwise, my sister had always been—and probably always would be—my best friend.
Our parents had been too busy with their jobs to worry too much about raising us, so the task of bringing up Lora had fallen largely to me. I’d be lying if I said it was a chore I’d always enjoyed, because trust me— Lora could be a real pain in the ass. She was loud, she was messy, she broke things like it was her job, and I’d spent the better part of my seventeen years trying to keep her out of trouble.
But as little sisters went, I guess she could’ve been a lot worse.
“How long are you grounded for?” Lora asked with a frown, closing the door behind her. She fluttered over to the window and drew back the curtains to shine some light into the dismal place that was my room.
“Indefinitely,” I replied, also frowning.
“You know that means like a week, right?” She offered me a half-hearted smile. “This is Mom we’re talking about.” She had a point—not unlike myself, my mom had a quick temper, but her anger usually subsided pretty quickly.
“So…” Lora began, twirling a finger in her dark hair as she walked over and plopped herself down on the bed beside me. “Thanks for bailing on me yesterday.”
“Yeah…sorry about practice.”
Lora shrugged. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. I was worried though, when I couldn’t find you,” Lora said. “And then Mom calls me at Maddy’s at like eleven ‘o’ clock last night, telling me she got home from work and found you passed out in the porch swing.” She paused, as if waiting for me to correct her, to tell her none of it was true.
But what was I supposed to say? I didn’t have an explanation to give her. I still didn’t have one to give myself.
“Alex...?” Lora began, fidgeting with the ruffled trim of the sundress she was wearing. “Were you…were you drinking?”
“Why does everybody think that?” I practically shouted.
“I don’t think that,” Lora said, jumping back.
“Mom does.�
�
“Well, there were the empty cans, and then Miss Cartwright left a bunch of rude messages on our answering machine, saying she was going to call the cops if we didn’t keep the noise down. So Mom assumed a party was going—”
“What?”
Miss Cartwright was our elderly, slightly senile next-door neighbor. And it was perfectly plausible that she had imagined any noise she’d heard. A sinking feeling began to form in the pit of my stomach anyway. “What kind of noise?”
“I don’t know Alex, she didn’t specify.” Lora looked at me curiously. “What does it matter, anyway?”
“It doesn’t.”
No— it didn’t matter.
As long as the noise in question didn’t sound like gunfire.
Or like a fight between a gun-toting guy and some mythical creature.
Now that I thought about it, it had been a really noisy nightmare…
“What’s wrong?” I met Lora’s confused gaze, and I sighed. I wanted to tell her everything that was going through my head. I truly, desperately did.
But I really didn’t want my little sister thinking I was insane.
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” I replied lamely.
Lora didn’t look the least bit convinced. Thankfully, she wasn’t the type to push people into talking when they didn’t want to. She said nothing, just stood up with a worried look on her face and turned toward the door. She’d only taken a few steps, however, before she stopped and turned back around, reaching into a side pocket on her dress as she did so.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot—” Her hand emerged from the pocket, holding something that glinted in the sun rays beaming in through the window. She held out her hand to me, and I noticed a strange humming noise coming from it.
“This is the main reason I came in here,” Lora said.
I didn’t take my eyes off her hand.
“I wanted to give this back to you. Sorry I didn’t ask if I could borrow it, but you were kind of missing in action, you know?” Her hand unfolded to reveal the silver necklace my grandmother had given me on my last birthday.
I’d never worn it—it was a little too fancy for my taste. The tear-drop shaped diamond in the center of it was real, and set against a silver backing intricately shaped to resemble vines.
Lora stepped forward, trying to give it to me. As she did, the humming grew louder— like it was some kind of reverse metal detector homing in on potential treasure. Sunlight bounced off the diamond, reflecting into my eyes with a brightness that felt almost sinister—like this was a weapon meant to blind me.
I stumbled back until I bumped against my bed.
“What is your problem?” Lora asked.
“…Why is it humming?”
“What?”
“Why is it humming? It never did that before.”
“Alex, what are you talking about?” She looked terrified. “It’s not humming.” She glanced over her shoulder, as if thinking about making a run for it. “Are you okay?”
I closed my eyes and gave my head a little shake, trying to focus on what she was saying.
“Alex?”
“…Sorry.” I mumbled. “I guess I’m still just a little tired.” I took a deep breath and tried to force a smile—or at least a normal expression. “Give it here,” I said, reaching out my hand, albeit reluctantly.
The humming was so loud now that it was difficult to concentrate on anything else. It was starting to give me a headache.
Lora hesitated, and then dropped the necklace into my outstretched hand.
It made contact with my palm for about two seconds before I flung it.
The charm had been hot. White hot. The scent of my own burning flesh filled my nostrils and made me want to gag. My unburnt hand flew to my mouth.
I’d managed to throw the necklace all the way to the far corner, where it was still humming— but at least it was barely audible now.
“Alex! Calm down!”
I tried. I took deep breath after deep breath, closed my eyes and thought every happy, comforting thought I could think of.
Those thoughts might’ve made a difference too, if I hadn’t unfolded my clenched fist to examine my burned palm—only to see perfectly smooth skin.
4
plans
It was happening again.
I knew I’d been burned, burned so badly it should’ve left some kind of mark.
My skin wasn’t even red.
My eyes darted from my palm, to my sister, and back to my palm again.
“Alex…?” Lora began.
My hand fumbled for the bedpost.
So much for my little sister not thinking I’m insane.
“Get that thing out of here,” I said, jabbing my finger in the direction of the necklace.
My sister stayed rooted in place.
“Alex? This isn’t funny anymore.”
“I’m not laughing!” I said in a hysterical whisper. “Do I look like I’m joking to you? I don’t want it back—you can keep it. Consider it an early birthday present, or whatever, just take it away from me.”
Lora moved slowly toward the necklace, not pulling her gaze from me even as she bent down to pick that evil thing up.
She dropped it back into her pocket.
With the necklace out of sight, I found it much easier to calm myself. I could still pick up its quiet humming, but the longer it stayed in her pocket, the easier it was to block it out.
Lora backed toward the door. She seemed to have noticed my regained composure, judging by the timid smile she flashed me.
“So, when you get over this crazy fit you’re having… you let me know, okay?” Her tone had changed from frightened to wary amusement. “I’ll be outside. Maddy’s coming over— we need to get some more practice in before the game against West Meck tomorrow.” Her face turned serious again. “You should join us, maybe get a little fresh air, you know? It would probably do you good.”
“Sure.”
So now my little sister was the one looking out for me.
Great.
I checked my palm one last time.
Still completely, totally burn free.
As if I needed to reaffirm my insanity.
Lora walked away, and for a moment, I considered shutting and locking the door behind her. But there was no point in staying in my room—I wasn’t tired anymore.
And I probably wasn’t going to find any answers to my growing list of questions in this room, either.
My mom was sitting at the table when I walked into the kitchen, her face hidden by a newspaper. I moved soundlessly to the refrigerator, grabbed an apple and a coke from it and attempted to leave just as quietly. I’d made it to the threshold separating the kitchen linoleum from the hardwood dining-room floor when the newspaper rustled behind me.
“Sit down, Alex.”
I bit my lip and grudgingly turned back around to take a seat in the chair opposite of her. “I thought you were going to sleep all day,” my mom said, lowering the paper and peering over it.
I shrugged. “I didn’t sleep well. Remember? Nightmares, sleepwalking—really, I barely slept at all.”
“Mmhm.” She moved the newspaper so it blocked her face again.
I inhaled deeply and held the breath, waiting for her to speak. But she seemed extremely interested in that newspaper all of a sudden. I took a sip of my coke and pushed my bangs out of my face. Then I sat the coke down as loudly as I could and cleared my throat.
She continued to ignore me.
Maybe she wanted me to speak first?
“Mom, about last night. I really think you should know that—”
“You had a visitor earlier.”
“What? Who?”
“A young man I’ve never seen before. He said the two of you had plans?” She closed and folded the newspaper and set it aside.
“Plans?” I repeated, confused. “Um…what did he look like?” I couldn’t remember making any plans for this morning—especially wi
th anybody my mom wouldn’t know.
“Like somebody I wouldn’t approve of you dating,” she replied.
I rolled my eyes. “Who says I want to date the guy? I don’t even know who we’re talking about.”
“He was older, I think—too old for you. Dark hair maybe?” She paused, looking frustrated, suddenly. “I don’t know Alex…maybe you should ask Lora? She saw him too. Actually, she’s the one who answered the door first. She didn’t know who he was either, though.”
“Why didn’t you come get me?” I asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
“Lora tried. But it was earlier this morning, and you were still dead to the world.”
“Oh.”
“Not that it mattered,” my mom continued. “I informed him of your incarcerated state, and told him you two would have to reschedule your plans. I told him to check back with you in about ten years.”
“Great. Thanks, Mom.”
“Any time, sweetie.” She took a sip from the coffee mug now occupying her right hand.
“Can I go now?” I stood up without waiting for an answer.
“I need you to run to the store and pick up a few things,” she said, ignoring my question. “The list is on the counter over there.” She picked up and unfolded her newspaper, then disappeared behind it without another word.
My mouth opened, ready to argue, but then I thought better of it. At least she was giving me a chance to get out of the house.
I snatched the list off the counter and dashed to my room. Once there, I threw on my favorite pair of jeans and the first tank top I could find, pulled my hair up into a messy bun, and grabbed my purse from where it hung on the bedpost. My car was parked in front of the garage, but in an effort to avoid my mom, I slipped out the back door and took the most indirect route possible to reach it.
An unexpected growl greeted me from the back patio. Apollo. I looked over to see him baring his teeth. It sent a shiver through me, because it triggered a memory of my nightmare. Not that our dog looked anything like that massive creature whose bared teeth had starred in said nightmare; not even close. He was essentially a giant, gentle teddy bear—but that was just another reason this was disturbing to me: It wasn’t like him to show aggression.
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