King 02 - Breathless (7 page)

My heart began to pound, and my head was swimming. Why was it night? I struggled to remember walking to the cafeteria, my morning classes, but everything was a blank. What was happening?

“Don’t panic, Tasmyn,” Nell scolded. “You were always so cool under pressure when you were ruining my life. Where did that gumption go? Could it be that Michael was your real backbone? And now that he’s gone, maybe you’re not really that formidable an adversary.” Her eyebrows raised, Nell’s tone was unquestionably ironic. I knew that she had never considered me an enemy; instead, I had been either an annoying impediment to her success or an intriguing pathway to greater power.

“Michael’s not gone,” I corrected. “He’s just away.”

Nell laughed again. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what you’re telling yourself. The grand romance goes on, even when you’re apart. You never were very good at facing facts. But that’s neither here nor there. You asked me
what
I was doing here and
how
I got here, but you’ve neglected to ask me
why
I’m here. And that’s the key question.” She tilted her head.

“Okay.” I drew in a deep breath. “I’ll ask. Why are you here? Why is it dark out there? Why don’t I remember anything about today before seeing you here?”

“Oh, thank you, all the interesting inquiries at last. It’s dark because it’s night. In one sense of reality, you’re not really here in the cafeteria. You’re at home in your own bed. Safe and sound. That’s why you don’t remember getting here. I called you to this place while you were still in another part of your sleep.

“We’re here because this is a place that I thought wouldn’t alarm you. If I had called you to the clearing, I think you would have panicked much faster than you did. But we both know this lunchroom, we’ve been here together, and that was necessary. Of course, I could have chosen the chemistry classroom, but I hardly think that holds happy memories for either of us.” She sighed heavily.

“So I’m just dreaming this? I can wake up at any time?” It didn’t feel like a dream, but it was somewhat comforting to think I had a modicum of control.

“Perhaps something like that. But you can’t leave until I’m ready for you to go. And I’m not quite prepared for that yet.”

“What do you want from me?” I was back to whispering.

“Tonight, I don’t want much. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten about me. This is simply a little reminder visit. I want to make sure that I’m on your mind when you go back to school. I might not be there, but I’m not ready to be forgotten yet.” Suddenly Nell looked more lost and woebegone than threatening.

“I’ve never forgotten you, Nell,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. “I-I couldn’t let you hurt Amber, or Michael and me, but I never wanted
you
to be hurt, either. When I heard that your dad had sent you away—I was very sorry.”

“Yes, I know.” Nell looked at me thoughtfully. “The guilt practically ate you up the first few months, didn’t it?”

I didn’t answer, but I wondered how she could know that.

“Doesn’t matter,” she continued, and I wasn’t sure if she was answering my unvoiced question or referring to the guilt I’d felt. “We’re running out of time, and I’m not finished quite yet.”

“I promise, Nell, I won’t forget you,” I said. “What else do you want?”

“I want to warn you,” she replied. “You need to be aware that Marica hasn’t let this go, and she’s not going to give up on you.”

“She didn’t bother me last year,” I protested. “She left me alone in chemistry. She never even glanced at me when we passed in the walkways.”

“Could you hear her thoughts?” Nell’s question was quiet.

I flinched. I hadn’t told anyone—not even Michael—that I hadn’t been able to listen to Ms. Lacusta after our final showdown with Nell. Any small echoes I picked up from the teacher had been in her native language, a tongue I couldn’t decipher.

“She wants you,” Nell went on. “She wants your power. Never trust her for a minute.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why would you warn me?” I asked shakily.

Nell was quiet. She frowned and looked away from me. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe… I know what betrayal feels like. She used me. I don’t want to see her succeed. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“I guess it is.” For the space of several seconds, we gazed steadily at each other. For the first time, I looked at Nell without feeling the enmity she had always projected toward me. Her dark hair hung loosely around her pale face, and I noticed fleetingly that it was much longer than it had been last year. Her eyes moved from mine down to the scars on my neck, and her expression turned bleak.

Abruptly she moved as though to cover her face with her hands, and I gasped. What I had assumed was her ritual robe was not. Her hands were hidden beneath the white cotton sleeves, which were crossed behind her. Nell was wearing a strait jacket.

“It’s time for you to go.” Her voice was harsh. “Go. Get out of here. Go through the doors.”

Confused, I turned back to the main entrance and stumbled toward the swinging doors. Before I pushed through them, I braved a final glance back to my table. It was empty.

I awoke gasping and shaking, safe in my own bed. It was just past midnight, and I was alone.

If there was anything good about my nocturnal encounter with Nell, it did take my mind off returning to school the next day. Sleep had been a long time returning; even once I’d settled down and convinced myself that it had been only a dream, I kept the light next to my bed burning.

I was groggy the next morning, slow to rise and nervous about going to school. My mom and I had done our traditional back to school shopping the weekend before, and I had bought a floaty skirt and coordinating tank top for today. Now the idea of putting on anything seemed overwhelming, never mind fussing with makeup and blow drying my hair straight. I was so tired that I only wanted comfortable clothes and as little activity as possible.

But for my mom’s sake, I put on a happy face and dressed quickly. I used the high humidity outside as an excuse not to dry my hair; I let it go curly and full around my lightly made-up face. Scrutinizing my look in the mirror, I decided I’d do. I didn’t have my usual motivation to look good, since Michael was miles away and wouldn’t see me.

My mother had made a full and hearty breakfast, appropriate for the first day of my senior year. She joined me at the table, beaming at me over the pancakes, bacon and orange juice. During the summer and the rest of the school year, my usual breakfast was yogurt and fruit, sometimes adding half a bagel if the urge hit me. But at least once a year, my mom got the guilts and resolved to send me off with a full stomach.

I managed to get down some of the pancakes and nibbled on the bacon, all the while working to tune out her thoughts.

My baby’s last first day of school! I can’t believe she’s a senior. Seems like just yesterday she started kindergarten… I wish she’d eat more. I wonder if those pancakes are all right?

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Even as slowly as I’d been moving, it was still early. Nevertheless, I pushed back my chair from the table.

“That was great, Mom. Thanks. I’m going to brush my teeth and then head out, okay?”

She frowned. “It’s not time yet, is it? I want to take some pictures.”

I stifled a groan. “Seriously, Mom, do we have to? I just want to get going. I didn’t sleep well, and I’m a little jumpy.”

“Why didn’t you sleep well?” Now anxious vibes were pouring off my mother.

I averted my eyes. “Just some nightmares. I think it was nerves.” I smiled as brightly as I could. “And I want to leave a little early since I’m not used to driving myself. I know I can do it, but the Mustang still kind of worries me sometimes.”

“I can always drive you today if you want,” she offered hopefully. I knew she and my dad had their own reservations about me having temporary custody of Michael’s car.

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I just want to get moving.”

I got out of the house after only a few pictures. My mom stood at the door and watched me as I dumped my bag in the backseat and climbed into the car. I gave her a jaunty wave, took a deep breath and turned the ignition. I needed to get down the street without stalling, and my biggest challenge was always first gear.

Luck was with me, and I gave a breath of thanks as I eased down the road. It was still so odd, driving the Mustang without Michael in the passenger seat. I ran my hand over her smooth hard steering wheel and missed him with a physical pang.

To take my mind off the pain, at the next stop sign I pulled out my MP3 player and plugged it into the radio. This was Michael’s early birthday gift to me: he’d replaced the original AM-only radio with one that would allow me to play my iPod.

“After all,” he’d laughed as I squealed in excitement, “I won’t be around to talk to you on the drives to and from school. You need some distraction.”

Now I flicked my favorite play list to shuffle and continued on my way, keeping the volume to a safe level in the interest of the early hour, not to mention the promise that I’d made to my parents to keep it down. Even so, the music flooding the car went a long way toward calming my nerves and soothing my aching heart.

The ride to school was short, and I pulled into a nearly empty parking lot. I flashed back to my first view of the lot last year, when I was the new girl; I remembered Michael walking me out on my first day at school. So many memories of our early relationship lived here in the school that I knew coming back was going to be painful.

I reached into the backpack to pull out the schedule of classes I’d received last week. My schedule this year was challenging: the morning began with European History, which I knew I’d enjoy, but then it was followed by physics and calculus. Neither was required, but my father and Michael had encouraged me to take the classes. Privately I felt that they both had an inflated sense of my mathematical and scientific abilities.

Since I’d already completed most of my requirements for graduation, I was permitted to take an independent study course before lunch. There was a note on the schedule informing me of a meeting with my advisor today during that class period, during which time we would discuss the nature of my study. I was hoping to use the time for an additional history course, if one of the teachers would agree to work with me then.

My afternoon schedule was easier: English with Mr. Robinson, a new teacher in the school, and French IV with Madame Sill, the same instructor I’d had in French III. I had enjoyed her class during junior year, and I was looking forward to seeing her again.

As I turned to slide the paper back into my bag, I felt a vibration in the pocket of my sweater. I’d already turned my cell phone to silent before starting to drive, fulfilling another promise to my parents. I wondered if my mother was calling to make sure I’d arrived safely.

I glanced at the phone’s window and instantly my heart leaped: it was Michael!

I flipped open the phone and answered quickly. “Michael? Are you all right?”

I heard his soft laughter on the other end. “That was supposed to be
my
line. Did I catch you before you left home?”

I shook my head, and then wryly rolled my eyes at my own actions. “No, I’m already at school. I’m sitting in the parking lot, listening to music. I think I might be the first one here.”

“How’s my baby?” he questioned, and this time I made a face at him, even though I knew he couldn’t see me.

“She’s just fine. We made it without a single stall. And the music sounds terrific.”

“Top up or top down?”

“Top up. It’s the first day of school and I don’t want to look all windblown. I’ll probably put it down for the ride home and then out to the nursery, though.”

“Hmmmm…” I could hear the arch questioning in his tone. “So are you all dressed up for the first day? Tell me what you’re wearing. I want to picture you in school all day.”

“You’ve never seen it. My mom and I bought the outfit this weekend. It’s a pretty skirt, very light, in a flower print, and a light blue cotton tank.”