Natural Selection

  I SLEPT FITFULLY, tossing and turning and frequently waking. I felt flushed and feverish. Every time I tried to stand up, I got dizzy and would wobble. In the wee hours of the morning, I shuffled to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. Seeing the thermometer on the shelf above the sink, I decided to check, but I thought there must have been something wrong with it. It said my temperature was a hundred and six. Maybe Gaia ran a little hotter than humans, but I would have noticed it a time or two if I was more than a few degrees warmer than my peers. Feeling too ill to care, I stumbled back to my bedroom and crawled back into my bed.

  I woke far too early the next morning, my head feeling stuffed with cotton. Note to self: Never drink again. Ever! Staggering to the bathroom, I washed my face and gazed in the mirror expecting to see bloodshot eyes and dark puffy circles. Instead, my own face scowled back at me with perhaps some imperceptible differences. I drained three glasses of water from the toothpaste tumbler then climbed into the shower. The steam helped my head a little, and I decided to check the fridge to see if we had Gatorade or anything like that. My head was still pounding, and I got nauseous if I moved too quickly. Luckily, no one was up yet to see my crawl of shame into the kitchen.

  “Rough night?” Sariah asked from behind me, causing me to jump which in turn caused pain to flare behind my eyes. I put my arms on the counter and dropped my head onto them with a groan, and my evil sister just chuckled. I heard her open the fridge and pour something. I felt her nudge a glass over to me. I picked up the red liquid and eyed it suspiciously. She wouldn’t deliberately poison me or anything like that, but I wouldn’t put it past her to try and convince me pickle juice was a miracle cure. Of course pickle juice isn’t red, so that logic didn’t really follow. She laughed and gave me a knowing smile. “Relax, it’s just Pedialyte. Best thing you can do for a hangover.”

  I gave her a grateful smile and drank the sweet liquid. It was almost syrupy, designed for kids and all, but not entirely unpleasant. I slid the empty glass back to Sariah, and she refilled it. I drained it again. She wasn’t kidding. I couldn’t believe how fast my headache seemed to fade away. I felt much better.

  “So what happened last night?” Sariah asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to judge, but I really didn’t peg you as a sneak-a-flask kind of girl.”

  “I’m not. I think somebody spiked the punch. I had a lot of it. And I just started feeling so good, so alive” I shrugged, unsure how to describe the sensation of need I felt last night. She cocked her head for a moment, deciding if she believed me. She must have because she helped me dodge my parents through breakfast. I managed to slip out of the house after only a vague “It was fun” for my folks some kicks aimed at Xander under the table for almost saying something to contradict me. As I excused myself from the table, Sariah shot me a meaningful look that told me Xander was going to get an earful. I hopped on my ten-speed and started to head out, but I wasn’t sure where I was really going. Evelyn and I still weren’t really talking, and I didn’t have many other friends anymore. Definitely none that I could randomly drop in on a Saturday morning. It wasn’t until I crossed Union Street that I realized where I was going and almost smacked myself in the forehead for not realizing sooner. My old babysitter, Crystal McEntire, lived a couple of blocks from here. Whenever I was troubled and it was something I couldn’t go to my parents with, I’d always gone to Crystal. I’d never understood the deep bond she and I always shared, but even after I was too old for a babysitter, I still visited her fairly frequently. I swallowed guilt over the fact I hadn’t even thought of her, let alone seen her, since school started.

  I arrived at the blue house and dropped my bike carelessly in the yard. As I walked up to the porch, I knew something was wrong right away. All the glass in the windows lay on the ground on the outside of the house. From my years of obsession with detective shows, I knew that meant some force on the inside had shattered them. I was suddenly afraid, but I knew if Crystal was in there I had to go in and help. I grabbed the broom leaning against the side of the house and held it to my shoulder like a bat as I slowly turned the door handle. Everything I’d ever seen told me not to, but I had to know if Crystal was ok. It opened easily, and I stared down the murky hall. My heart was pounding, and my sweaty palms twisted on the broom handle. It was always dim inside her house, but it never seemed spooky before today. I inched my way down the hall, expecting some psycho to jump out at me at any second. I inched nearer the living room door. The room was empty, though in shambles. Her sofa seemed to have exploded and stuffing fluttered about the room, caught in the breeze coming through the broken picture window. I continued down the hall to the kitchen. As I got closer, I could see the sole of one of the white canvas sneakers that Crystal always wore. I stopped as my heart suddenly lodged in my throat. I listened for any sounds in the house, terrified that whoever had done all this damage might still be here. I heard nothing and took another step forward until I saw Crystal’s ankle and foot lying still on the kitchen floor. Fear forgotten, I barreled down the hall only to screech to a halt when I reached the doorway.

  The room was a vision out of a nightmare. There were crimson smears on the wall, as if a blood-covered hand had pressed against it for support. The table was upended and lying against the back door, the chairs were broken shambles. I was afraid to look at Crystal, but at the same time, I knew I had to. The moment it took me to turn my head was a surreal slow motion I thought could only happen in a movie. A million happy moments in this kitchen over the years flashed through my mind.

  When I laid eyes on her, I felt something in me snap. I fell to my knees and stared. She lay sprawled on the floor, her right leg bent unnaturally at the knee. Lying slightly on her right side, her arms were together in an awkward position. I realized her wrists were zip-tied together. But what sent the biggest chill through me was the foot long piece of wood sticking out of her chest. The pool of blood nearly obscured it, but I saw some sort of symbol beneath her. I wondered if it was like the one the police had showed me. I might not have noticed it if it weren’t for the black candles, which were still burning. They were the pillar kind you can’t quite wrap your hand around, and they were less than half-burnt. I wondered how long it took one of them to burn entirely.

  I became aware of a shrill sound and wished it would stop. It was only when I felt scratchiness in my throat that it occurred to me the sound was my own scream. I choked it back where it turned into a sob. Part of it was shock, I know, and part of it was grief. But I also knew I was crying for the strain in Evelyn’s and my relationship, my hurt feelings with Nate, my pain and confusion about what I was, what my family was. I tried to be strong and take everything with grace, but in the face of this trauma the weight was more than I could bear. I don’t know how long I sobbed on the kitchen floor before I was able to pull myself to my feet. I didn’t have a cell phone, and there was no way I could make myself go into the kitchen to get Crystal’s. Instead, I went to her neighbor’s house. The sweet, middle aged woman had lived there for a few years and was familiar to me, but I honestly didn’t even know her name. She brought me a cup of tea while we waited for the police, but it rattled so badly from my shaking I just set it down and stared numbly at my hands in my lap.

  Time must have passed as I sat there in a haze, but I didn’t notice it. At some point my dad came, though I never told anyone to call him. He sat next to me on the couch and pulled me onto his lap like he had when I was a little girl, tucking my head under his chin. All of a sudden the tears were back, and I sobbed into my father’s shirt as he petted my hair and rocked me. Eventually, I got control of myself and became aware of voices. I looked around at the neighbor lady’s now bustling living room. There were several policemen standing around, one talking to my mom, one to the neighbor lady and a couple to each other. I pulled away from my father a little, craning my neck to see what was going on. I recognized Officer Simms talking to my mother, and I looked around for Detective Laurent but couldn?
??t see him. Maybe he was over at the other house. I couldn’t refer to it as the crime scene or think that Crystal was gone. I felt guilty again for not visiting her more. I couldn’t remember thinking about her in a long time, and it made me feel horrible.

  “Are you ready to talk to the police, baby?” My father asked very quietly. I nodded and he helped me get to my feet. I went and stood by my mom, who wrapped her arms around me and pressed a kiss into my ponytailed hair. “Okay, girly?” she asked. I nodded again, and she hugged me a little tighter before moving away slightly, though she kept an arm around my shoulder. We turned towards Officer Simms, ready for her questions. She was polite and curt, but the way she eyed me made me nervous. I wondered if the police were going to be more interested in me now that I knew two of the people who had been murdered. I knew the two had to be linked, and I’m sure they did too. Trying to keep as calm as possible, I told her about finding Crystal.