The high school was only few miles away, but there was no way I was going to make it in time. The red light in front of me seemed to be taking its sweet time, and I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. “Turn green already!” The light changed colors, almost as if in response to my demand, and I let out a tiny smile of satisfaction before stomping on the gas pedal.
I managed to make it a few hundred yards before being stopped by another light. I groaned and gripped the steering wheel to keep from beating the crap out of it.
The clock now read 7:55.
“Green!” I yelled through the windshield. The light obligingly changed. I sped down the street, praying I wouldn’t catch any more lights or run into a cop.
I was less than two minutes away from the school when flashing red lights and lowering metal arms indicated an oncoming train. I came to a complete stop, exactly one intersection away from my turn, and burst into tears. The morning freighters were famous for being incredibly slow and miles long.
The clock read 7:58.
I dropped my head to the steering wheel and tried not to choke on my tears. All that studying, all the stress and worry, the months of preparation—all for nothing.
I pounded my fist against the dash. This was entirely my fault. If I hadn’t been so distracted, I wouldn’t be missing the most important test of my life.
The ever-reliable voice of reason inside my head began whispering condolences, but I shook my head to silence the sound. It didn’t matter that the test would be offered again next month. Early acceptance depended on this round of scores. I wanted to punch myself in the face.
Just ten minutes, I agonized. If I had just gotten up ten minutes sooner.
Warmth flooded through my body—probably some rush of endorphins in response to my panic. I sucked in a few ragged breaths. There wasn’t anything else I could do. It might be possible to sweet-talk the officials into letting me enter the testing room late, but I doubted it.
The train was still moving in front of me, but I could see the final car getting closer. This train was much shorter than the ones that usually backed up traffic for miles. Some kind of small miracle. Not that it mattered. Especially since—
I froze, staring at the clock on my dash. The bright green numbers now read 7:48.
What the hell?
I pulled my cell phone from where I had tossed it into the cup holder and tapped the screen. 7:48.
My stomach flip-flopped. Maybe I just read the clock wrong? I thought of that sign hanging in the counselor’s office about stress and its effect on the teenage mind. I imagined my poor little overworked brain collapsing on the sofa with a cold compress pressed against it. “Even brains make mistakes, okay!” it yelled before bursting into tears.
I let out a small chuckle, ignoring the chill inching its way down my spine.
The train was past me now, and the metal arm barricades were beginning to lift. I pressed down on my gas pedal, driving on autopilot as my thoughts whirled around like a tornado. I parked in the student parking lot and sat musing as people walked toward the door. My mind was definitely just playing tricks on me. Yes, that’s it. Just some weird twist of brain matter.
I shook my head and straightened my shoulders. “Focus, Styles,” I said, double-checking my backpack for my calculator and No. 2 pencils.
I began to recite vocabulary in my head like a mantra. Implausible. Adjective. Meaning not realistic or believable. Indiscernible. Adjective. Defined as impossible to see, hear, or know clearly. Consequential. Adjective. Important or significant.
I just needed to focus on one thing at a time. Something inside me wailed in protest, but I ignored it. I had to get through the test. Everything else had to wait.
I crossed the parking lot still murmuring vocabulary words under my breath and walked purposefully through the doors.
When they released us from the testing room, I was relieved. I felt good about the test, but the constant battle between the ability to think critically and the distractions floating around my brain had given me a wicked headache.
I wanted nothing more than to go home, curl up in my bed, and stay there until further notice. The handprint on my arm had been stinging all morning, and if I didn’t already have plans to meet Maggie at the library, I would’ve done just that.
I parked my car at the end of already busy Main Street and headed down the crowded sidewalk toward the town library. Lothbrook wasn’t a big town, but it was well known for its antiques and local cuisine. The quaint row of buildings was colorful and bright, each one with its own unique character and charm. The large window displays were all decorated in the cheerful oranges and yellows of fall, and pockets of tourists meandered down the walkway, window shopping and enjoying the smell of cinnamon and banana that wafted through the open door of Gertrude’s Bakery—one of Lothbrook’s most iconic locations. Main Street hadn’t changed much in the last few decades, and the classic “Leave it to Beaver” feel of the place drew folks from all over Georgia. Weekends on Main Street were always busy affairs.
I dodged around an older couple feeding a parking meter and pulled my phone out of my backpack so I could text Maggie and let her know I was almost there. As the screen lit up, a weird sensation floated over me. All of the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I swallowed and looked up from the screen.
The blood-covered woman from the comic book shop was standing on the opposite sidewalk, her long, dark hair blowing in the breeze. Her sad face locked on mine, and the amulet around her neck pulsed like a heartbeat.
Lainey.
The whispered echo of my name boomed in my ears as black splotches appeared in front of my eyes. I blinked, trying to clear them away, but it didn’t help. In seconds, my entire field of vision was nothing but darkness. Before I could so much as whimper, the darkness shifted, giving way to a cyclone of colors that swirled in front of my eyes and spun into life. The swirl took shape, and small bursts of recognizable matter exploded into the darkness.
A cluster of tall trees. A red-tinted moon. A strange symbol. The acrid tang of smoke stung my nose.
I gasped, but as soon as they had come, the flashes were gone, replaced again by the familiar sights of Main Street. The woman was closer now, standing in the middle of the street with her dark green eyes trained on my face. The look in her eyes made my stomach twist, and I staggered backward, accidentally plowing into the couple at the meter.
“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” I said, trying to find my balance. “So sorry.” The man and his wife were both giving me disapproving looks, but they seemed pacified enough with my apology not to scold me. As they pushed past me, I heard the woman mutter something about teenage drug use. Under different circumstances, I would’ve laughed, but my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. I glanced back to the street, expecting to see those intense green eyes staring back at me, but it was empty.
I let out the breath I was holding. You’re just stressed. An aftereffect from the test this morning. A figment of your imagination.