Intrinsical (6 page)

I sat up in bed in a cold sweat, my heart racing, my fingers clutching my sheets in panic. Even though it had been nothing more than a nightmare, my lungs still greedily gulped up air as if it had been real; it felt far too real. For the last month I had the same dream several times a week, every detail nearly identical.

This repeated experience was disturbing, eerie even. I had only had such vivid dreams once before. I pushed that memory aside reassuring myself it wasn’t the same thing. My hands instantly cradled the necklace my family had sent me from Brazil. They said Grandma had picked it out from her local feira market. If she were here, she’d remind me that dreams, especially recurring dreams, were not to be ignored. Her superstitious nature had taught me that, “Dreams are the universe’s way of trying to tell us something.” Of course she had been against me coming to Pendrell, warning me that my grandfather had left believing there was something evil happening at this school. I had been so determined to not live in Brazil that I hadn’t listened.

This train of thought didn’t help lessen my nerves. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep but all I could see were the horribly realistic images from my nightmare. Finally I decided to concentrate on the one aspect that wasn’t scary— the boy swimming toward me— and my pulse calmed. Even though the shadows obscured his face, I always felt like I knew him. I drowned every time, but each night he got closer to saving me.

****

In the morning, I woke still riddled with anxiety over my nightmare, but managed to get myself out of bed to shower. Once showered and dressed, I attempted to convince the worry lines on my forehead to relax, but was having no luck. With a heavy heart and an even heavier backpack I followed an enthusiastic Cherie to our first day of classes.

The morning was a humdrum blur of syllabi, textbooks, assignments, and teachers, except for Language Arts. Not only did the teacher, Mrs. Piper, assign an oral presentation that immediately made butterflies take flight in my stomach, but I had my first run-in with Brent since the library.

Brent, whose bangs were styled to hide his bruised temple, arrived at the classroom just as I did, starting an avalanche of emotions that crushed my lungs and made it hard to breathe. His lips were clenched in a straight line when he opened the door for me. “After you,” he said in a tight voice, motioning me forward. I glared at him as I walked past, making my way toward Cherie.

At lunch, I found Cherie in the cafeteria saving me a seat, I was happy not to see Brent or Steve with her. I hadn’t told her about my fight with Brent not only because I didn’t want to make things awkward between her and Steve, but also because it might lead her to ask some questions about the content of the argument.

I plopped my blue tray on the table, dumping my backpack with a loud thud, and slumped into the wooden chair next to her, mentally exhausted as we exchanged mutual “Why did we want to go to this fancy prep school?” looks. From the buzz of conversation in the room, it sounded like lots of students were complaining about the sadistic amount of work assigned on the first day of classes. If we had pitchforks and torches at our disposal, I would have led the uprising. My hostility level toward my teachers lowered after I polished off a brownie, stabilizing my crashing blood sugar.

“
So how was Drama?” I asked as I bit into my turkey sandwich.

“
Oh, it’s going to be fabulous. There’s a Drama Club and our first meeting is today. You’re going to be there, right?” At first I thought Cherie had asked me that question, but realized she was talking to Audrey, a girl from our floor, who had just sat down beside me.

“
Yep,” Audrey said, pulling out the chair next to me. “It was a relief to know someone in class.”

“
Our first day of classes and you’re already ditching me?” Travis, Audrey’s boyfriend, joked as he sat down next to her.

“
Oh, every chance I get,” she quipped, giving him a wink and tossing her golden hair over her shoulder.

“
What are you going to be doing tonight?” Cherie asked me as she stole a carrot stick from my plate.

“
Um . . . were you in Language Arts? You heard we have to introduce ourselves in front of our whole class tomorrow, right? Where do you think I’ll be?” I asked before popping a potato chip into my mouth.

Cherie put her hands to her head like she was trying to read the future. “I see you in the library . . .” she whispered eerily, “stressing out.”

“
It’s uncanny, her psychic ability,” I praised sarcastically, throwing a few of my chips at Cherie, who picked them out of her hair with a grin.

“
I have to work on my speech, too,” Travis said. “I can meet you there after school. That way we won’t have to be alone while they ditch us for Drama.”

“
Sure. I’ll want a second opinion about mine anyway.” I gave Travis a grateful smile. The conversation then turned into a debate between Audrey and Cherie about which play the Drama Club should put on first. Cherie and Audrey were still debating between two plays I had never heard of when the bell rang.

After school, in the library, while browsing through some of the books on public speaking, I ran into Travis. We decided to work on the second floor, in the back corner, so we could practice reading our assignments out loud without disturbing anyone.

An hour later, I had my speech written out, and Travis was calmly making notes on colored index cards with his key points. I loved the fact that he was using bullet points about his own life. For me, prep work wasn’t the problem; it was the actual delivery in front of my fellow classmates. I had found a book about public speaking, and was looking up ways to overcome the stage fright I knew would come. The book, however, was useless.

“
Seriously— ‘Be prepared’? Isn’t that one obvious?” I grumbled under my breath. “Make notes? Picture people naked? So, do you think if I picture everyone naked, it will really help?” I asked Travis rhetorically.

“
I’m afraid that might be a distraction, if I tried. I mean, Audrey’s in that class.” He chuckled.

I felt my face flush as I remembered Brent was too. No matter what had happened between us, he was still drool-worthy. “Okay, that one’s out.”

He looked at his watch and started gathering his stuff. “Speaking of Audrey, I’m supposed to meet her in about fifteen minutes. I better get going. You’re going to do fine.”

“
Of course I am,” I said sarcastically.

“
You sounded fine when you were practicing it.”

“
Yeah, but it’s different when you are doing it in front of a friend.”

“
Then just look at your friends while you talk.”

“
Okay, see,
that
is good advice. You should write a book.”

“
I’ll keep it in mind,” he said, standing up to go.

“
Tell Audrey hi,” I said. I watched him zip up his backpack and sling it over his shoulder.

“
Will do,” he called as he left.

Dropping my head onto the table and sighing, I closed my eyes, mentally repeating the words of my speech.
Hello my name is Yara Silva. I. . .

A book from a nearby shelf tumbled to the ground and the pages rustled a moment before settling. I bit my lip, debating. If this was a horror movie, I would be yelling at the stupid girl to run— but I ignored my own advice and walked toward the book.

It was a copy of
Pendrell’s Guide to Being a Top Student.
It didn’t look threatening, so I picked it up. It was published in the fifties and seemed to be a collection of essays written by former students. I marked the page that had flipped open with my finger as I browsed the table of contents. There were suggestions on everything from acing a test to keeping one’s dorm room clean. The page it had opened to had a small paragraph on public speaking by a T. J. Weld. I read the few sentences aloud.

“
When I have to speak in public, I always find it helps to take a few really deep breaths until I am almost dizzy, then close my eyes for a second, and pretend I’m dreaming. It sort of disconnects me from reality and keeps me from over-thinking. I found this exercise to be very helpful and enlightening.”

I frowned. I had hoped this book, brought to me by fairly spectacular means, would be more informative and have the real key to public speaking. I shelved the book with a sigh. I would just have to hope picturing people naked would do the trick.

****

The sun hung low over the hills, striping the landscape with long shadows as I walked back to my dorm later that evening. The heat ebbed to the coming cool night air. It was a perfectly balanced evening that would make the rest of the world jealous. Once again I was envying my shadow’s grace when a feeling of cold made me shiver.

I gulped and swallowed, tasting chlorine in the air. My heartbeat felt like it was tapping out danger in Morse code. I strained my ears to hear something, anything, but all I heard were my own steps. Then an arctic thread of air tickled the nape of my neck. I spun around expecting . . . I’m not sure what. But the whole campus was deserted and I was eerily alone.

Involuntarily, my step quickened and I started to glance around in search of a safe place or other people for that matter. I had the unnerving feeling that I was being followed. I paused for a moment, listening, but all I heard was a deafening silence. My lone companion was my shadow and even it seemed determined to abandon me as it stretched longer and slid further away.

I blinked at my other self.
How is my shadow moving if I’m standing still?
My possessed shadow raised itself from the ground like a zombie emerging from the grave until it hovered before me. The black mist that had attacked Brent. A geyser of terror erupted inside me, freeing my heart to leap to my throat and my knees to buckle in its wake. Landing painfully on my butt brought back some clarity of thought and my mind registered that the mist was thicker and more massive than I remembered. I scooted backward trying to escape, but its thick blackness snaked itself behind me, encircling me, blocking me in.

A hate-twisted face materialized in the mist while one of its slithering tendrils grew into an arm, with fingers stretching for me. A scream I didn’t even know I was capable of left my throat, echoing off the buildings in a terrified refrain.

A scraping that made my skin crawl resonated in the air, as its nails hit some sort of invisible barrier mere inches from me. Screeching, it pulled back, then attacked again only to ram into the same unseen blockade. Refusing to give up, it battered against it, higher, lower, faster, slower, trying to find a weakness in its defenses. Despite being covered by my trembling hands, my eardrums pounded, threatening to burst at the mist’s shrill cries of failure. Sensing its mounting frustration, I cowered, drawing my knees tightly to my chest, as the fear buzzing in my head grew louder. Then the whole entity attacked at once, circling me completely, its energy squeezing me momentarily in a breath-stealing vise before it was slammed back with a force that left me dizzy.

“
Yara!” A familiar voice called. I spun toward Brent, who was waving his hands dramatically, trying to get my attention. His face tightened as he took in the horror in my eyes and the panic etched on my face, but his arms kept moving. “Over here, Yara.”

My lips were mouthing the word my fear wouldn’t allow me to voice. “Help.”

My eyes slid past him, seeking the mist, when an assault of wind stung my eyes, forcing them closed as an explosion ricocheted around me. For a moment I feared I had died. But the hard concrete didn’t transform into a billowy cloud; I didn’t hear heavenly angel choirs, accompanied by harps. It took several blinks before my open eyes believed that not only had I survived, but that the mist was gone. I had no idea what had happened and chose not to question it as my body sagged in relief.

The air in my lungs that had felt thick and heavy instantly felt fresh, like pure oxygen. Black spots danced before my eyes and my head felt light as the rush of clean air overtook me. The encounter had drained me of the ability to sit upright and I felt my body give way under the exhaustion. More softly than I would have imagined, I collapsed onto the concrete.

My cheek lay against the warm walkway as my body shuddered with shock. Tears coursed down my face, my breathing shallow. I had never felt more weak or vulnerable in my life.

Brent crouched down beside me. “What are you doing on the ground? Are you sick?”

“
Did you see it?” I whispered, my voice crackling with fear.

“
See what?” Brent asked, looking around. The angry blue bruise on his temple convinced me that answering truthfully would just reignite our old argument.

“
Never mind,” I mumbled, suddenly wanting him to go away.

“
Are you okay?” He asked.

Did he really want to know? I stared up at him.
No, he doesn’t,
I decided. Still, he looked at me expectantly for some sort of answer, so I nodded. Not because I was okay, but because that is what people do in situations like this— they muscle through it, cowgirl up. When people ask how you are, they don’t really want to know, they just want to hear, ”I’m hanging in there.“ I was not as strong as other people, I decided, as I sniffed back tears. My hand covered my mouth to contain the sobs that were bubbling in my throat.