Beyond - Volume 1 (YA Paranormal Romance) (5 page)

I walk away from the desk and search for my locker. It’s near the f
loor, and I have to bend over to reach it. How embarrassing is this? I don’t want the people who have their lockers right above mine to see me squatting like a gymnast.

“
Morning, Raven.”

I look around and see
Simon Pierce standing behind me. Startled, I fall backward, but I catch myself just in time before I land butt first. My books scatter on the floor.

“Hi,” I stammer. He’s wearing a white shirt with a dark blue fleec
e vest on top, paired with brown pants and sneakers. He reminds me of those British boarding school students.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to
startle you,” Simon says as he picks my books up from the floor and studies them. “History, eh? So that’s your first class.” He laughs a bit and sticks out his hand toward me. I grab it and let him help me up. His grip is warm and sturdy, and as I stand, I pull my hand away.
I can’t think like that. I can’t like him.

He gives me the books
, and we glance at each other. His reddish hair is curling upward along his ears and just reaches his sideburns. I pat my head to make my hair go down and put a few strands behind my ear.

Then the bell rings. There’s no time to explain
why I ran away from Lillian’s party.

“Good luck with your classes. I have to go. See you later,” he says and winks
before sauntering around the corner.

I heave a sigh. Every time he’s around I act like some love struck girl. It’s so hard to keep myself away from him
, and I go through all that effort just because Emma likes him.

Gosh, this is hard.

After I check my schedule, I grab the map. I push my way through a bunch of students who look irritated. Others have warm welcoming smiles on their faces, and some just don’t seem to care. First impressions are always important, so I try to put on a smile for them, even though the stress makes bile rise in my throat. I walk toward the door of my history class.

Smile? Check. Bag with pen and paper? Check. Nervous? Check. Let’s go.

Nobody in the classroom looks familiar, except for Lillian and Emma. From the corner of my eye I see Emma wave at me.

“Good morning
, class,” says a grumpy, balding, little old man. He puts his shiny briefcase on the wooden desk and looks at me. “This is Raven Stone. She’ll be in your class from now on. Introduce yourself, will you,” he says and gestures at me, pointing his hand toward the class.

My heart is
thumping in my throat. I shuffle toward the front of the classroom.

“Hi. My name’s
Raven, but I guess you already know that,” I stutter. Some students laugh. “I’m sixteen years old. I just moved here, and I think I’m going to like it here.” I look at the teacher, hoping it’s enough. He waits a while. An awkward silence falls.

“Well, thank you
. That was brief, but insightful. Find yourself a seat,” the man says.

With my hands clenched
firm around my books, I walk farther into the classroom and sit behind a guy with spiky blond hair. He styled his hair all the way forward in some sort of apex, which is kind of cool. Except that he’s wearing some grubby hole-filled jeans, a simple white tee and a silver chain around his neck. The first thing that comes to mind is … douche.

I place my bag next to my
desk and take out a couple of pens and some paper. When I look up, the guy in front of me is turned, facing me.

“Hi,” he says with a smirk. He’s squinting at me
, which makes me uncomfortable. I smile back. “I’m Joey Mason.” His focus stays on me, as if other things around him aren’t important.

“Um… hi?
” I reply. What else am I supposed to say? This guy is creeping me out. I’m getting flustered, but not in a good way.

Why did I have to sit here?

“So … where are you from?” he asks. “Where do you live? Do you like baseball?” He’s smiling from ear to ear. His white teeth almost glisten in the light of the lamp.

“Yes,” I answer straightforward
. I’m not going to entertain him.

“Don’t
listen to Joey,” Lillian says from two seats away. “He’s an annoying womanizer.” Thankful, I smile at the girls.

Does this mean they might take my apology?

I look around the classroom and notice a few other people gaping like we’re in the zoo and I’m the star exhibit. The seat beside me is still empty, and the door is already closed.

“
Does anyone sit there?” I ask while pointing at the empty seat hopefully.

“Yes, Damian Hayes,” Joey answers a
s he runs his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes he’s here; sometimes he’s not. He’s the kind of guy who never comes to school. He’s the kind of guy who’s no good for you, Cutie.”

Cutie
?
I want to smack him in the face. I’m not a ‘cutie’. I barely know him. He’d better shut up. But I don’t say anything. I don’t want to start a fight on my first day at school. Imagine what the students will think.
No, that’s not a good first impression.

I fake
a smile and open my book. I’ll find out myself who my friends and enemies are. I don’t need Joey to do that for me.

While the teacher is busy intr
oducing this year’s topics, I scribble my apology on a piece of paper, meant for Lillian. I crumple it and throw it to their table when the teacher isn’t looking. The note describes why I ran away and on it I tell them I’m sorry and I hope we can still be friends.

Lillian opens the note
under her desk and reads it together with Emma. Afterwards, she looks at me and gives a thumbs up. My body relaxes with relief.

***

Lillian and Emma approach me after class, and we walk out together.

“So you were just feeling
sick,” Lillian says. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. Weird though. That fever just popped up out of nowhere, because you looked fine during dinner.”

I nod and give her
a fake smile. “Yeah, weird indeed. My temperature just skyrocketed.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Emma asks. “You can tell us anything. I won’t spill. Especially now you’re part of our little group.”

Yeah, right.
Of course she won’t. I don’t know if I can trust her, but I have no other choice. I have to give an explanation for why I was acting like a crazy person at the party. I’ve known the girls for a while now, but Emma Harper is friends with the gossipers of the school newspaper, the editors. She’s their source of information, and I don’t know if she can be trusted.

“I’m
sorry. I just got so sick all of a sudden. I just had to go. I didn’t want to bother you guys with my whining,” I say.

Should I
tell them about my hallucination? No, I don’t want to be called a weirdo.

I can keep contemplating
it, but it’s no use. It’s too late now. It already happened. I have to keep the promise I made to my mom not to tell anyone about my condition.

“We understan
d,” Lillian says and puts her arms around me and Emma.

***

I share most of my classes with Lillian and Emma. Joey too, although I wonder if that isn’t just because he wants to hang around with as many girls as possible.

T
he teachers give me huge amounts of homework, like they think I could use extra, now that spring break is over. After my last class, I go to my part-time job. It’s my first day working with Simon at Mr. Cheng’s.

Simon’s
teaching me because Cheng’s English is not that good, and Simon thinks he can explain things better. We’re not allowed to chat about non-work-related things, I understand from Mr. Cheng’s scolding, so Simon only discusses work. He explains what I have to do and how. Unpack boxes, pile up the cardboard, take it away with a cart, place items neatly in a row and sweep the floors.

“So what happened at Lillian’s par
ty? I mean, with you,” Simon asks me out of the blue.

No! I totally forgot to tell him about it. W
hat am I supposed to say again?

“I
… well … I just got a really high fever, and it made me see things that weren’t actually there,” I explain. “I had to get out of there because I wasn’t feeling right at all. I didn’t want to bother anyone with it.” He looks at me without saying anything, while he puts a few groceries on the shelves. “I’m sorry,” I say. Maybe it will make my story a bit more convincing.

“O
h, I don’t mind. I was more concerned about you,” he says and blushes.

“Thanks, I’m fine now,” I say. I feel a bit relieved
and shift the conversation into something lighter. “Are you in a different class or something? Because I never saw you in any of the classes I take.”

He puts a box aside. “I’m already seventeen, so I’m
a junior.”

So he’s one year older than me.
I didn’t expect that, since he doesn’t look older. In fact, he looks even younger than me. His reddish hair gives him a youthful appearance, although his little goatee makes him seem a bit older.

We smile at each other and continue unpacking boxes and rearranging items on the shelves.
Simon’s presence gives me the feeling that time goes faster.

***

When the sun sets, I go back home and flop down on my bed so I can write in the new diary my mom bought me. As I write down the first sentence, the bed starts shaking.

I turn around to lo
ok at my feet. There’s nothing. My heart starts pounding again, but I should try not to think about it, because I’m making myself insane. Ever since that night on the road I can’t calm myself during my hallucinations. They’ve become so much worse. My mom says if I keep taking the pills, the delusions should be reduced.

I’m just g
etting used to my environment, right?

I lie in
bed, motionless. My pen is on a page in my diary, and I stare at the yellow wall in front of me. My bed trembles again, this time more violently.

If I’m not moving my bed, what is?

I turn on my back and grab the bars on the side of the bed. Something is shaking my bed, and it’s not me.

Then a dark smoke
rises up from my blanket. I pull up my legs. The rippling fog shapes itself into a human-like figure on my bed and looks at me. My heart is throbbing in my throat, and sweat is dripping down my forehead. Sam.

He floats
closer, and I crawl backward to the head of the bed. I want to run, but the ghost is blocking my way, and I’m not going through him.

I glance at the bottle of pills, and I remember taking them today
.
Why aren’t they working?

Pleading
, I mutter: “Stop.” But Sam stretches his arms toward me, the fumes almost licking my skin. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my view. He’s so close that I wish everything was just a dream, even though I’m sure I’m wide awake.

Then
, on my right side, the blue ghost appears again, the one that looks like he’s a part of the universe. He drifts out of the wall, like he’s being propelled by a breeze.

Again he’s hunting
Sam. They fly criss-cross through the chamber, but then Sam disappears through the door. The blue ghost hangs in the air, surrounded by glinting mist. He turns around to gaze at me. This time even more intense than before.

I blink
three times. We stare at each other, without making a move. His body isn’t made of solid matter. Smoke in his body moves around like waves in a rippling creek.

Even now
he doesn’t strike fear into my heart. I don’t have the urge to run anymore, and I relax. This one isn’t scary. On the contrary, he looks magnificent. Like a starry night sky when there are no lampposts to block the view. I can’t keep my eyes off him, and I don’t want him to leave.

I
think he feels the same, even though I know that sounds weird.
Why else would he stand there like a statue staring at me like I’m so special?

He squints.
This has to be a figment of my imagination. My rationality tells me I’m hallucinating, but still, it doesn’t feel that way in my heart. This feels real.

His feet lightly touch the
floor when he starts walking toward me. His movements are fluent like water. The smoke coming from his body dissolves into nothingness. I honestly can’t keep my eyes off him. My fingers and toes start to tingle as he comes closer. Hypnotized by his presence, I’m stunned. I should call for help and yell for him to stop, but I don’t.

He
advances toward me. His head bends down over mine, sparkling eyes staring at me. I can’t imagine this being real, but it is, for me.

The power of attraction is almost inh
uman. I want to know what he is—no,
who
he is. I want to touch him.