Why would I know something? ~S
Because you tend to lose people.
Is this really the time and place for humor? Then it hits me—it’s a plain fact. There’s not one thing funny about it.
He’s with Gage. ~S I hate it when he’s right.
I hop off the bed, not waiting for a response. I’m going back to fix this right now—all by myself.
***
It occurs to me when the ground beneath me trembles and the Fem is wrapped around my arm, that Marshall might be someone good to have by my side at times like these. I mean, so what if it costs me my life, soul, being, whatever? How bad would it really be creating a super race with Marshall? Any time I feel like having a nervous breakdown over Logan or Gage, I’ll simply reflect on moments like this, and understand that I’d rather not turn into Fem vomit and...
I let out a bloodcurdling cry and don’t stop until my lungs beg to explode.
The beast comes in with its eerie grimace, strange humanlike features masked under a panther’s jet-black fur, creepy glowing eyes, and long catlike limbs.
“Skyla!” A male voice booms racing up the stairs.
The door opens in haste and refracts off the wall.
“Daddy!” I scream. Daddy was usually something I reserved for the tender moments of yesteryear, not the monster’s-going-to-twist-my-head-off-and-toss-it-out-the-window moments of today.
He’s armed with a baseball bat, same one I wielded at myself not too long ago. He gets in a violent series of blows to the back and side of the Fem’s head until a mess of green slime starts to gunk up the bat, and the Fem falls flat to the ground.
“Let’s go.” He helps me leap over its listless body. It reaches up and snatches my ankle before I can traverse it.
I scream, maneuvering towards the door as my father beats the living shit out of the writhing creature.
The grip around my ankle loosens, and we manage to reach the stairs. He leads me outside to the front of the house, opens the passenger door to his car, and instructs me to get inside.
“How’d you find the keys?” I ask as he lands in the driver’s seat and locks the doors.
“I don’t know where they are.” A bewildered look crosses his face. “It was unlocked.”
Right.
I’m in a car on this very day with my dad. I tick my head nervously.
“I guess you want some sort of explanation of what’s going on.” He looks straight ahead at the garage as though he were disappointed in himself for not doing it sooner.
“That we belong to a faction of angels called Celestra?” I ask. “That we have the amazing capability of pissing off a crooked group of angels called the Counts? That the Fem upstairs is nothing but a ball of air, which by the way I do not believe,” I say full of frustration. “Yeah, please tell me because I’m dying to know.”
I can’t believe I’m yelling at my dad, who, by the way, I’ve never even slightly freaked out on with the exception of today of all days, his death date.
“You know all this.” He folds his hands into his lap and turns over to me thoughtfully. “I didn’t think it was right to tell you. I wanted you to have normal childhood for as long as possible.”
“I did.” I pick up his hand. “And it was a happy one.”
“Was?” He presses into the headrest. “It’s still happening.”
“No it’s not.” It comes out feeble. “It’s not. You’re gone, Daddy, and I’m not doing so well without you.”
“I’m not following you.” His forehead creases. “I’ll work less. Sweetie, everything I do, I do for you and your sister. Believe me, I’d much rather spend time with the two of you.” His eyes fill with moisture.
The world slides from beneath us, feels like it sways on its heels, and, for a second, I want to say yes, spend more time with us, but I know that’s not going to happen.
“I’m not the Skyla you know.” I start in carefully. His skin looks thicker in this harsh light of day, and I can see the slight pocking of his flesh around his cheeks. He looks hardened by the world, not like the softer version I keep tucked away in my memory. “I’m Skyla from the future.”
A loud popping noise explodes from somewhere deep in the car. Flames shoot out from under the hood and lick dagger like spears high up over the windshield.
In less than three seconds, the entire car is engulfed in flames.
47
Wake
My eyes flutter open. The room slightly spins as I struggle to get up on my elbows. A wave of nausea washes over me, then the details of what happened flood back like a storm.
Two years ago my father died in a fiery crash in the driveway of our home. A young woman was reported to have fled the scene. That young woman was me.
I head downstairs, bumping into walls, stumbling over the carpet until I land on a barstool next to Drake.
“Skyla?” My mother zooms in on me so close she looks disfigured.
I give a series of hard blinks.
“I think maybe you should stay home from school today.” She slides over a glass of orange juice.
“School?” What the heck happened to Sunday?
“You need to rest. You had a pretty high fever when I checked last night.”
“You were delirious,” Drake says with a mouthful of cereal. Milk spurts out when he laughs.
“I’m fine.” The clock behind mom reads, seven-thirty. That’s less than five minutes before I need to shoot out the door. “Can I catch a ride with you guys?” I ask Drake.
He looks at me up and down with the spoon stuck in his mouth.
“I’m leaving in two minutes,” he mumbles.
“That’s all I need.”
Much to my mother’s protest I dress and pull my hair back in a ponytail. I snatch my makeup bag off the counter and toss it in my backpack.
“You’re going to relapse,” she insists.
That’s impossible, I want to tell her.
“I’m going to be fine. If I feel bad I’ll go to the nurse. I’ve got this huge test coming up in Algebra Two—if I miss one class I’m completely behind. It’s like missing a month of regular math.”
“I get it.” She gives a slow blink in frustration, before snapping her fingers. “Oh, is that Mr. Dudley’s class?”
“Yes.”
“Let him know I should have the ad complete this afternoon. He can come over later if he wants to see the proofs.”
“OK.”
“You know what?” She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Invite him for dinner.” She smiles shaking her head. “Don’t you just love living here? It’s like everybody’s family. We actually know our neighbors. And I can’t even imagine inviting one of your teachers back in L.A. over to the house, let alone for dinner. It’s just a different world here.”
“It’s different,” I muse. “I’ll let him know about dinner.”
“You think he’ll come?”
“I’m more than positive.” There’s no way he’ll let this opportunity slide by.
I walk down the driveway towards Brielle’s Jeep with Drake motioning for me to hurry.
I hop in the back and stare out in a vacant manner as the scenery starts to whiz by. I can’t focus on anything right now other than Gage and Ellis.
“Can you believe all this weird stuff that’s been happening?” Brielle switches off the radio. “First Michelle, now Ellis missing?”
“Yeah, I know. How’s Michelle?” I ask.
“No clue.” She clasps her hands on the wheel and focuses in on the road.
Things are getting weird all right. And it’s all my fault.
***
I see Logan on my way to second.
“You look great.” The words sail from my lips without my permission. I pull him into the dark underbelly of the stairwell.
He pushes a quick kiss on my lips. I’m so shocked I hold my breath for three solid seconds. This is serious. Maybe he’s got a brain injury.
“I miss you.?
?? His lips twitch. There’s an inherent sadness in his eyes, like he means it, but it’s layered a little deeper than I understand.
“I’m so sorry about Gage.” I can barely get the words out.
“Nobody blames you. I don’t want you to stay away from the house because you think my aunt and uncle are mad. If anything they blame Gage.”
“Gage?” Obviously they’re too nice to put the blame where it really belongs.
Logan traces the outline of my lips with his finger. His eyes magnetize to mine and we let our gaze linger while the warning bell goes off.
“I’ve ruined everything.” Even my words aren’t powerful enough to break the spell of attraction. My breathing becomes erratic.
“You didn’t ruin anything.” He gives a bleak smile when he says it.
“Michelle’s in the hospital, Gage and Ellis are missing. Fems are spreading like a fungus, and we have to hide our relationship. I can’t think of one thing that’s working out right now.”
He kisses the back of my hand and pulls his cheek into a half smile.
“We are.”
***
“Ten minutes late, Miss Messenger,” Marshall says as I walk by on the way to my desk. “I was beginning to think your entire row was going to disappear.”
A series of gasps erupt.
“I apologize. That was in poor taste considering the dubious nature of Mr. Harrison’s disappearance.” Not that I’m crying myself to sleep at night, he adds for my benefit.
I don’t bother focusing on the lesson at hand. I gape at the open book in front of me and stare at the numbers in a daze. It’s hard to target my attention on equations with Gage and Ellis lost in some other time dimension. If they end up dying back there, what happens with the last two years? Did they ever really happen?
I totally get why Logan warned me not to time travel in the first place. I swear if I can somehow reverse this, I’ll never time travel again, well, probably never. I can’t promise myself anything. I’m so out of control, I can’t even control myself. How’s that for irony?
“Skyla,” Marshall sings over to me. Even his voice has the magical ability to soothe.
Most of the class is already gone. I collect my things and walk over to his desk.
“My mom wants to know if you can come to dinner. Ad’s ready.” I don’t come at it with quite as much enthusiasm as my mother.
“Yes.” His eyes widen instantly as though he’s been hoping—praying for this.
“Don’t seem so eager. It’s not becoming,” I say as I head towards the door.
He walks over swiftly and leans over my shoulder.
“Remember those words when you beg me to have you.”
“I’ll never do that.”
“I have the gift of knowing,” he reminds me. “You will.”
48
Behave
Emily and Lexy are lost children. They huddle together as tears stream down their faces. They don’t get up and practice during cheer; instead, they speak in hushed tones when they bother to speak at all.
At the end of the hour, Ms. Richards announces that Michelle has been downgraded from critical condition. Miraculously, her pencil dive off Devil’s Peak has managed to result in a mere broken leg. A wild scrub oak broke her fall.
“Can you believe it?” Brielle whispers.
“Yeah,” Nat shakes out her kinky hair. “She’s ruined the line, ‘Go jump off Devil’s Peak’. Sort of lost its punch.”
“Either that or she’s an immortal.” Kate laughs when she says it, and I wonder if she knows that Nat and Brielle are both Counts or if she’s the only one not in on this celestial joke.
Ms. Richards claps her hands one more time.
“I think, in the spirit of unity, we should all visit Michelle tonight at seven. Please wear your uniforms, and if you so wish, bring flowers.”
“Seven? Mr. Dudley’s coming over tonight for dinner.”
“Ooh…” Nat shakes her shoulders. “He so damn hot.”
“He’s interesting,” I say, lackluster.
“Are you blind?” Kate’s a little miffed at my non-responsiveness.
“No, I just like my boyfriend better.” I sort of mean both of them. A hot ball of fire cycles through my stomach.
What’s happening to Gage? There’s no doubt in my mind once this horribly drawn out day is over, I’ll have to go back. I have to get him. A small voice in the back of my mind repeats what Logan once said. Anything’s possible if I believed—and I do believe I’ll get Gage. I’m pretty sure Ellis will get back either way. He’s sort of a cockroach that way. Plus, he doesn’t have a stash, and I’m pretty sure you can’t smoke a Fem.
There is one thing that seems impossible—saving my father. After I undo all the damage I’ve done, I won’t bother trying ever again.
***
Marshall shows a little too early—a little too eager. I can smell the desperation oozing off of him. He’s like an older version of Gage on love-struck acid. Although right about now, I’d do anything to have Gage pour his love all over me. I’m pretty sure I’d shock the hell out of him and pour it all right back a thousand times over.
“Isn’t she beautiful? She’s like a real live angel.” He holds up the proofs up to the light. “Amazing,” he says under his breath.
“Trust me Skyla’s no angel, but even I’m fooled by this picture.” She coos, lost in some zombie-like trance at the black and white print.
My mother has her recipe books strewn out all over the counter. Stray opened cans lying around with crumpled napkins and soggy dishtowels fill up the volume of the kitchen island. If it were anyone else I’d actually be embarrassed at the state of unrest the house is in, but I’m glad we look like pigs. I hope we scare Marshall off with our unsanitary condition.
Tad walks in, and everyone plays nice while Mia and Melissa help me set the table.
“It’s so refreshing to see your domestic side.” Marshall’s lips curl into a barely-there smile.
Creepy.
“Skyla? Domestic? Ha!” My mother balks. “You should see her room.”
“Could I?” Marshall gives a sly grin in my direction.
No you cannot, you dunce, I feel like saying.
“I’ve always believed you can tell so much about a person by the natural state of their private space,” he continues.
“Sure, go on.” My mother sticks her head in the oven to check on the chicken. Obviously, she’s insane from the fumes or something.
He’s a teacher—a grown man no less. What the heck has gotten into her? It’s like he’s zapped her with his charm and now she’s defenseless to his every whim.
I sigh and lead him towards the hall. Tad looks at me as though I’ve just sprouted two heads. Even Tad thinks this is a bizarre turn of events. If Tad and I are on the same page then for sure this whole thing reeks of rotting corpses.
I take the steps two by two, but Marshall beats me to the top anyway and hisses, I win.
I open the door to the united kingdom of colorful underwear and let him take a gander. He steps deep inside before spinning in a long slow circle. Then he walks over to the bed and lies down, prompting me to slam my door shut and lock it.
“Would you get up? What’s this ‘see your room’ business?”
“I was bored.” He sniffs at the sheets. “Just taking in your scent. It’s not like I haven’t been here before, but it’s kind of nice to be invited.”
“You invited yourself.”
“Details.” He lies back and folds his hands across his chest. “Have you given us much thought?”
“No. No, us.”
“How about Gage? You found the poor boy yet?” His hand latches on to the post near the headboard, and he offers his best seductive stare.
“No.”
“Have you checked the excrement around the property? I understand Fems have a powerfully quick digestive system.”
“You’re sick.”
“I can make everything
right for you, Skyla. Shall I?” He sits up in anticipation of my answer.
I have to admit, it’s getting more tempting by the minute. Although, however much I feel like sacrificing myself for Gage, I don’t feel as desperate to lose everything for Ellis.
“Your father would love Paragon.” He gets up and leaves the room.
He’s right.
***
We pretend to enjoy chicken cordon bleu, or black, as it is in its present state. My mother makes a mockery of herself, apologizing profusely for the charred disaster. You’d think she set his mother on fire the way she goes on.
“I’d don’t mind.” Marshall winks over at her. “What’s a little carcinogen every now and again?”
Tad looks appalled by his comment.
It’s true, though. I’ve always considered my mother’s cooking a slow form of suicide.
Mia and Melissa both seem equally taken by Marshall, giggling in concert at his brazen exposition.
“Mr. D?” Mia offers up her own nickname for him. “You think you’ll still be teaching when I get to West?”
“No, I’ll be old and married by then. But you can visit the horse ranch. Better yet, sign up for lessons at the new school.”
“Yes!” She explodes, nodding to Melissa. Looks like he just scored two pupils without effort from the ad.
“I’m going to have Alpacas shipped in. Isn’t that exciting?” He looks to me when he says it.
“Oh!” My mother saves the chicken from falling out of her mouth with her fingers and swallows hard. “I love Alpacas!” She chugs down a third of her lemon water. “Call me as soon as they get in.” It’s becoming painfully obvious my mother has joined in on the Marshall Dudley love-fest. She swoons over at him like a star struck schoolgirl, gets so lost in her spaced-out daze while peppering her food she has to sneeze her way back to reality.
She’s openly flirting with me, Skyla. Does that make you the slightest bit jealous? He asks.
“Yes,” I say out loud. Crap. It’s late and I’m tired. Speaking of which, I dart my eyes over to the clock, six-fifty.