I squinted, looking out at the double doors leading out to the balcony, where the sun was coming up over the trees. I glanced at the Darth Vader alarm clock, surrounded by various pieces of paper and candy wrappers on my bedside table and groaned. It was already seven. I threw the last scrapbook on the floor next to a pile of dirty clothes. I grabbed a random t-shirt off the hanger, not bothering to see what it was in the dimly lit room, exchanged my pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans I picked off the floor, tousled my hair, and threw on a pair of Nikes. I flew to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it slowly, so I wouldn't wake up anyone. The long hall was dark and impeccably neat. I crept into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the light. I was instantly met with my reflection, chest heaving from running around my room. My dark hair was a mess, sticking up in random places, plastered down in others. I looked into my eyes and realized that I hadn't taken out my contacts last night. Not that it mattered much- I hadn't gone to sleep- but I should probably put some solution in them. I scratched at my eyes, gently prying the contacts out, still surprised by the color of my eyes changing from honey to a light amber. The contacts weren't supposed to change the color, but they always did make my eyes a little bit darker. I added a drop of solution and with only a little bit of difficulty, put the contacts back in. I grabbed my toothbrush, sloppily adding toothpaste, and brushed my teeth. I glanced up again at my reflection. There were dark circles under my eyes, my lips were cracked and chapped, my light brown skin super dry. I spit out the toothpaste into the sink and started laughing, bringing out my dimples. I looked like death. But it was too late to fix it.
I turned off the bathroom light, opened the door, and crept through the cold, empty house downstairs. I could hear Chel's alarm going off. I grabbed a black coat hanging on the hook next to the door and I slipped it on, shoving both hands into the pockets. My fingers brushed against a crumpled dollar bill, and I smiled. You could almost count on my forgetfulness. I opened the door, the wind blowing roughly against my already raw face, and started the walk to the 7-11 across the street from the high school. I crossed the busy street without looking both ways (oh well), smiling at the weather, which was finally starting to warm up, and walked into the empty convenience store, my entrance marked with the sound of a small bell. I smiled at the cashier, a young 20 something year old man with a lot of acne, and walked into the back of the store, to the fridge. I pulled out a Coke and walked up to the front. I could feel my heart beating, not an uncommon occurrence when I paid for things. Why did I have anxiety over such small things like paying and putting change in my pocket when someone was watching?
I reached into my pockets, took out a five dollar bill, and handed it to the cashier. He handed me my change, and I reached for it to put it in my pocket. When I touched the change, I shivered and for a minute, I saw a flash of the red and orange fall leaves on wet cobblestone pavement. I looked up, and at the cashier, but he seemed not to have noticed. I shook my head. I must be more tired than I thought.
"Thanks." I nodded at him, grabbed my coke, and walked out. I guzzled the whole thing on the way to school. I put in my earbuds, turned on a Panic! at the Disco song and tried to walk to class before the bell rang.
A lonely speaker in a conversation
Her words were swimming through his ears again
There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you've paid for
Say what you mean
Tell me I'm right
And let the sun rain down on me
Give me a sign
I want to believe
Whoa, Mona Lisa,
You're guaranteed to run this town
Whoa, Mona Lisa,
I'd pay to see you frown
He senses something, call it desperation
Another dollar, another day
And if she had the proper words to say,
She would tell him
But she'd have nothing left to sell him
Say what you mean
Tell me I'm right
And let the sun rain down on me
Give me a sign
I want to believe
I walked with the crowds of deadbeats who were late. No one spoke to me or commented on my appearance, which I was thankful for. I pulled out the earbuds and slid them into my backpack as I sat down, the chords of the song still playing on repeat in my head. Hopefully that, and the coke, would be enough to keep me awake until sixth period.
Mr. Blumenreich, the Trig teacher starts to drone on, and I open my purple notebook, already the cover ripped and covered in doodles and movie quotes, and start to continue my drawing. After I finish a rather flattering picture of E.T., I glance up to look at the clock.
But when I look up, instead of being surrounded by students, I'm standing in the middle of a street in what seems to be Europe, cobblestone streets covered in thick foliage, with one or two people passing by- shades of people, like flickering holograms. It's not raining, but its brisk and its damp- my favorite kind of weather, just barely a cool breeze blowing past me. One teenage girl stops to look at me, winks, and says "First time here, huh?" I don't know where to look- I don't know where I am- and it's beautiful.
"Mr. Price?" I looked to my left and met the dark, dull eyes of Mr. Blumenreich, his abnormally long nose turned up at me. "Did you have a question?"
I lowered my eyes, staring intently at my notebook, my hands pressing tightly together. "Uh, no, sir."
I could feel his angry squint. "Then I suggest you leave my classroom." I looked up at the clock- it was time for second period- and scooped up my notebook and bag. "Yes sir." I replied, and walked out, still feeling his hot gaze on the back of my coat. It was only when I turned back to close the classroom door that I noticed Claryn's desk was empty- and I believe it had been empty the whole period. I frowned and closed the door.
Jefferson- ok, he was a strange guy- a great one, but always obsessed with mysteries, and ready to go, to travel... his disappearance was strange, and terrible, but in the most forced explanation, it was plausible.
Gwen- sure. She had just been in a car accident, is suffering from some form of amnesia or dementia, her mom was strict, she had a lot going on. She deserved a mental health day.
But Claryn? Sure, her best friend had been in a car accident, J had left... but it didn't DIRECTLY effect her. And her parents valued education over everything else- they wouldn't have let her miss school unless she was dying.
I walked through the halls of school, The Ballad of Mona Lisa stuck in my head. Give me a sign... I want to believe. The room was practically spinning, reeking from the lack of J, of Gwen, of Claryn... but I struggled to walk to my next class.
I made it through second and third period without anything going wrong. I was exhausted, fighting to stay awake. The caffeine and sugar from the Coke started to fizz out halfway through third period. I sat down in Spanish class, when Senor Peniagua started to teach us the different verb endings, when once again, my surroundings shifted and I was sitting on a bench in the middle of an empty shopping street. It was still the same weather- the sun was in the same place in the sky, looking just about ready to go down... far too low for it to be just past noon. I looked up at the sky- a beautiful overcast blue, with light gray clouds so thick you couldn't tell they were clouds. It was quiet, just a faint music in the background, sounding as if it came from within one of the stores. I strained to listen, and to my surprise, I heard the Star Wars Main Title.
"What the heck is going on?" I muttered under my breath to myself.
And suddenly I was jerked back to reality, the sensation sending a jolt down my spine. Senor Peniagua was staring at me, a whiteboard marker grasped in his hand. The sun shone through the window, shadows dancing across my desk. It was 12:33. The classroom was uncomfortably warm, and a few of my surrounding students were looking at me.
"Sebastian? Did you have a question?" I shook my head quickly.
"Just trying to commit this to memory."
Senor Peniagua nodded and continued.
What was happening to me? Had I gone completely insane? First I fall in love with Claryn, which is insane by itself, then I become a different person and USE THE FREAKING FORCE- and now I'm having incredibly vivid daydreams and hallucinations.
I had officially lost it. I was having a mental breakdown.
But if I was having a mental breakdown, why did Claryn experience a similar thing with Gwen?
And where the heck IS Claryn?
I COULD not stay in class any longer or I was going to start having a panic attack. So I raised my hand, looking at the whiteboard and trying- and failing- to make eye contact with Senor Peniagua. He turned around and sighed. "Yes, Sebastian?"
"Senor, can I go to the nurse?"
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Because..." My heart was beating again. I couldn't just tell people I was hallucinating. I had to make up some kind of excuse... "I just don't feel good."
Senor Peniagua raised an eyebrow, not impressed. "Really, Sebastian? How so?"
At times of trouble and anxiety, my brain goes into one of two modes; extreme sarcasm, and movie quotes. I suppose I was too tired to make a sarcastic remark, but I couldn't stop the words from being said.
"Because... because my lips hurt real bad!"
Half the class erupted in laughter, and even Senor Peniagua gave a shadow of a smile. "Well, I can send you to the principals office." His words were light and sarcastic, but I saw the warning in his eyes.
"No, I'm serious." More laughter. "I just... I don't feel great. Por favor, senor? Cinco minutos?" I said it in a purposefully bad American accent, earning more laughter from the class, and I broke from my puppy dog pleading expression to flash a quick smile. Senor Peniagua sighed. "Si. Rapidamente, Sebastian."
I nodded at him picking up by bag and walking out. "Gracias, Senor."
I turned left at the door to the nurse's office, looking down the hall to see if anyone was watching me pushing open the dirty double doors. I had to get home and figure out where Claryn was and what was happening to me.
I started walking home, humming Star Wars, which was now stuck in my head. I walked past the library, through streets empty of cars and people, the small town's citizens all at work. I saw a flicker out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned my head, there was nothing there. I slowed my pace, looking all around, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows and attack, waiting for the scenery to change again. I could feel adrenaline rushing through my veins, and suddenly I was awake and alert. I saw a slight flicker on my left- like someone turning the corner with a trench coat, just a scrap of fabric fluttering behind a street corner. I completely stopped, turning in circles now. I felt like someone was watching me. I swallowed and bit my tongue, trying to refrain from saying anything stupid.
There it was- just a flicker across the street on the cracked concrete, a person's figure, standing, waiting. A person who I had seen before. The person who had attacked me in the alley yesterday.
I tried to calm myself down- it can't be him, no way could he know you were here, to fight you for a second time- besides, you're just hallucinating, Sebastian, it's just a weird mental breakdown-
But he flickered again, longer this time, long enough for me to get a good look at his face, and even though it was partially masked in shadow, I could see him smiling cruelly.
And there was a second flicker, to my right- a man of similar height and build, but with incredibly long, greasy, shaggy hair covering his forehead. So- I can take one of these guys, with a little beginner's luck, I guess... but two of them?
"I've got a bad feeling about this," I muttered. Why do I keep quoting things today? I was trying to keep my eyes on both of them at once. When the long haired one stepped forward, all my logic and instincts went out the window.
I turned and started to sprint... and sprinted right into a light post. "Well, darn." I said, getting light headed and falling down. My eyes closed involuntarily, and as I drifted out of consciousness, I heard one of them talk.
"Good job, Matthias! You scared the crap out of him. How are we supposed to get information now?"
"Shut up, Morean! You're the one who stepped forward!"
"Um... Sebastian? Sebastian Price?"
I groaned and sat up, rubbing my head, which was POUNDING. I was back in the- the wherever it was- laying on a soft bed, in a small cottage with a fireplace. The room smelled faintly of apple cider and cinnamon. A person, a pretty woman with caramel brown hair, who looked to be about mid-thirties, was standing over me.
"Sebastian Price?" She repeated.
"Ya?" I responded, closing my eyes. Where the heck was I, and what was happening to me? I needed to get home to Chel... she was making dinner tonight... but why was my head hurting so much? "What happened?"
"Well, we think you had an overreaction to the power source... Most Theks know how to control it by now, though. Did you accidentally take too much? Or have you been having medical issues lately?" Her voice was steady and strong, and I tried to focus on her to stop the urgent feeling of nausea.
I looked up at her. She seemed genuinely curious, and a bit concerned. What had she said? Medical issues?
"I... I don't think so. Sorry, taken too much of what, exactly? Where am I?" My brain started to wake up, the paranoia and curiosity that was as familiar as my own heartbeat returning.
The lady flickered for a second, and I realized she was the same... thing... as the people I had seen walking down the streets earlier today when I had my second... episode.
"Don't you know where you are?" she asked frankly.
I sighed. "If I did, would I be asking?" and there was the sarcasm, right on time. I was just like myself again.
She blinked, taken aback, and then smiled, the creases on her face becoming prominent. "You must be one of the new ones, then. You're in the Theta."
"Theta?" I repeated skeptically. "Like... the greek letter, Theta?"
"Well, yes, I believe that has something to do with the name. But its a state of mind- a sort of dream state- where Theks like us can access our powers."
I looked around- at the dark wooden door covered in rain, the old sturdy floorboards, the rafters holding the small cottage together, at the brick walls, at the small TV in the corner, surrounded by colorful books in various piles- everything seemed very real, except for the periodic flickering of the woman next to me. "What's your name?" I asked her.
"Illarene. Illarene Patton. And you're Sebastian Price, right? Friends with Jefferson."
Alarm bells went off in my head. I looked at her, studying every inch of her face, looking for signs of a lie. "You know Jefferson Sochete? Is he OK? Is he- where- I mean, why did he- Gwen!" My mind was racing, not being able to form words for the emotions I was feeling. Jefferson was alive. I took a deep breath, replaying our conversation in my head.
"Um, side note-" I looked back up at Illarene. I could feel half my smile rise up in a charming smirk. "Did you say something about powers?"
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Squitchy Mushins, thanks for reading!
Maddie, all I can say is... May the force be with you
-Lindie
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