Schasm (Schasm Series) (5 page)

I can’t help but think of the boy in my drift.

We pull into a handicapped parking spot in front of the large metal doors…the same doors I walked through yesterday when I drifted. "Mother, I'm not handicapped," I scold. “There are people who might actually need this spot.”

She nods her head absently as she turns the ignition off. I think she might be grinning. I have no idea what goes through her head sometimes.

I already know she won't allow me to take my time walking down the hallways. I’ll have to try to take in every detail before my time runs out. She holds my elbow in her hand, guiding me in a hurried shuffle down the hallway. I can almost hear her voice explaining how
we wouldn't want anyone to see the crazy girl prancing around the school.
She’s said similar things before. Her words echo through my head. She’s always made it clear how embarrassed she is by me
.
I’m equally embarrassed by her, so I guess it balances out.

As we speed down the hall, I observe the blurry cubbies with children's coats lining the art-covered walls. With each painting we pass, a greater sense of disappointment sets in. Nothing seems to stand out to me. I knew I probably wouldn’t find anything here, but I had a little hope.

I see the front office sign sticking out a bit further down the hallway. It’s my last destination before I’m rushed right back out of the school. It’s my last chance to learn anything useful.

A large shadow box covered in glass hangs in front of the sign. The half-second I have to view what’s inside the box is all I need. It’s a red baseball hat…the same hat the little boy had been wearing in my drift. It’s hanging above a tiny plaque:
With hopeful thoughts of your future. We will always miss you.

“What happened to him?” I speak my thought by mistake.

My mother looks at the shadow box for a second. Her cool demeanor disappears, and she whips me around. She steps in front of me, glaring at me as if she knows now that this trip has nothing to do with an art class. My thoughts, as usual, are elsewhere. All I can do is wonder if that little boy is dead now, if the shadow box and the stone in front are his memorial.
Hopeful thoughts for your future.
That part doesn’t fit.

My mother pins me up against a wall. She points her finger at my chest. “Stay here,” she says gruffly, and she walks into the office.

An older woman passes by. She has short, curly gray hair and large glasses that cover her hazy brown eyes. She has wrinkles and creases that cover her face. She looks like someone’s sweet grandmother.

“Chloe Valcourt?” she calls out delicately.

Who is she?
I wonder. She comes closer, and I recognize her: Mrs. Amesbury, my first grade teacher. She was the last public school teacher I had. I can’t believe she’s still teaching. And I really can’t believe she recognizes me now.

“Mrs. Amesbury?” I smile. “How have you been?” I ask.

She lays her hand on my shoulder and her eyes widen. “Chloe dear…” She looks me up and down. “You look…lovely.” Her lips curl in a halfway sympathetic smile. “I see your mother is still taking care of you,” she says, peeking into the front office.

My eyes fall to the ground. I’m sure she remembers what my mother did. She did make quite a name for herself in this school. I’m suddenly so embarrassed

“I’m fine.” I shrug. “Just getting by from day to day.” I raise my eyebrows, uncomfortable with the pitiful way she’s looking at me. “I’m doing fine. Really.” I don’t know who I’m trying to reassure—her or me.

She leans into me. The scent of coffee and caramel fills my noise. “There are other options, Chloe,” she whispers into my ear. “Please, take care of yourself, dear.” She takes my hand in hers and pats it. I’m not used to being touched in a kind way. Her skin feels warm. “You are perfect. Don’t ever forget that.”

She looks in at my mother, who’s turning around to come back and walks off as quickly as her quivering legs will take her.

 “The class is almost full,” my mother reports, “and I don’t think it’s a good idea to burden the teacher and students with a challenged person.”
Challenged, disabled.
I’m so many things to her. “I’m not signing you up,” she says. Her disappointment shows all over her face, but I know it’s not because of the class. It’s because of me and the trouble I’ve put her through.

“Oh, well,” I say, trying not to give her the upper hand. “Maybe next time.”

“Or maybe not.” She thinks she made her point, and I let her. Then she grabs my arm and pulls me back out of the school.

***

Hundreds of thoughts are running through my head. My anxiety is overwhelming. I need to lie down for a while to try and straighten everything out. I stare up at my stark white ceiling. A spider is creating an intricate web in the corner. On any other day, I would have that thing smashed in a tissue and flushed down the toilet by now. At this moment, though, I don’t want to move. And watching it build its web is actually kind of mesmerizing.

The web grows. I feel my eyes become heavy. The sensation of sinking into a daze overtakes me.

Oh, what a delicate web we weave…

It only takes one blink before I arrive.

My eyes open to find a crystal blue swimming pool. The water is motionless; the sun feels as if it’s a perfect eighty degrees, and there’s a light breeze.

I just might call this place
heaven
.

I’m on a lounge chair. There’s a small table next to me, with a glass of ice water and a fresh slice of lemon perched on the rim.
Is this mine?
I usually take my water without ice, straight from the faucet in a small paper cup. Something like this seems indulgent. I take a sip first, then a gulp. It tastes so much better than tap water.

Vibrant colors catch my eye. They’re all over me. I’m wearing a bright yellow sundress covered in white flowers, with a white cardigan and white lacy sandals. My skin has a soft glow. I feel attractive for a change. I'm afraid to find out how I got into these clothes.

 A woman shouts excitedly from the distance. “Oh my goodness. Chloe? Is that you?” I don’t recognize her voice, and I don’t know who would know me here. I place my hand over my forehead as a visor, squinting into the sun. I see the silhouette of a tall, slim woman sliding open the screen door of the yellow house. Her long red hair is beautiful. She comes closer, and I find her shamrock-green eyes perfect, her smile dazzling. She’s wearing a sundress similar to the one I have on, but in white. It accentuates her perfect dark tan. “Hi, honey. How have you been?" she chirps as she closes in the space between us. "I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” She claps her hands flamboyantly.

I have no recollection of her. Everything is so perfect here that I’m nervous to even ask who she is…or where I am, for that matter.

“You’ll have to forgive me…I don’t recognize you,” I say, embarrassed, warmth flushing my already sun-kissed cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, and she giggles sweetly. “You’re in San Diego, honey, and I’m Celia. I’ve known you since you were a little girl.” She gives me a second to remember, but nothing comes to me. “I made a promise to you that I’d always be here for you when you needed me. I haven’t seen you in quite a while though.” Her words are almost melodic.

“Are we related?” I ask.

“No, sweetie, I'm just a good friend…one who understands you.”

No one in the world understands me. But she’s so pleasant to be around. She’s the absolute opposite of my mother.

I still feel like I shouldn’t be here. “I hope you’ll forgive me for intruding on your home, Celia. I’ll just go ahead and let myself out now. Very sorry.”

“Chloe, my home is your home. You’re welcome to come and go as you please. If you are still around tonight, please come back and I will make up a bed for you.” She smiles warmly. I feel like she’s genuinely happy to see me.

“Thank you, Celia. You’re too kind.” I scan the grounds again. “I’m not sure how I could forget about such a beautiful place.”

As I turn to leave, I hear her whisper, “I do.” I don’t think she realizes I heard her.

And now I can’t help but wonder about it.

CHAPTER FIVE

ALEX

I CAN HEAR THE WAVES CRASHING
from here. The darkness in my mind lightens as the empty mile of golden sand appears within my vision. I won’t have a hard time finding a spot to sit today.

I pull off my sweater to use instead of a towel, and I lie back to stare up at the sky. I begin to visualize all kinds of images in the puffy white clouds. I feel myself sink into relaxation. This is by far my favorite escape.

My heavy eyelids begin to close, and a shadow falls over my entire body. I can focus without the glaring sun beating into my eyes. I see him again: my lifesaver. He’s tanned to perfection, with bulging muscles, sun-bleached hair, and almond-shaped, ocean-colored eyes. The scent of coconut blows off him with the slightest breeze from every incoming wave.

I sit up, flustered and struggling to reposition my shirt to where it should be. “Hey beautiful,” he says, and he winks like he did the other day.

I can’t think of anything proper to say to the guy who just saved my life.

“Hi, h-hi there,” I stutter.

“This is
my
beach you’re sitting on,” he teases with a flirtatious grin. “You’re kind of stealing my sun.”

I can’t seem to move my eyes from his perfection. “Really sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to intrude on the hero’s tanning session.”

He’s staring at me. I can’t figure out why. He looks me over as if he’s becoming familiar again with someone he used to know. “It’s really nice to see you again,” he says.

I must have made quite an impression on him.

I
was
drowning when he found me, so…

My blood heats up as it rushes through my body. I feel as if the temperature just went up ten or fifteen degrees.

He points down to the sand next to me. “May I?” he asks.

I nod and smile.

“Doing any swimming today?” He raises one of his perfect blond eyebrows.

“No,” I purse my lips. “I think I’m all set with the water for a while.”

“It’s probably better off that way.” The corners of his mouth curl into a sort of smile that showcases the whiteness of his teeth. They glow against his tanned skin. “I wanted to see how you were feeling, and realized I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself to you last time.” He brushes his sand covered hand on his shorts and stretches it out to me. “My name is Alex Levette.”

Wanted to see how I’m feeling?
I can’t quite tell if he’s interested in me or concerned about the poor crazy girl who almost drowned in a few inches of water. I’m sure it’s safe to assume that he’s just a nice guy who’s trying to make sure I’m okay. And since this is my daydream, that’s the one I’m going with.

I put my hand in his. His warm, large, freckled fingers envelop mine; his touch makes me feel dizzy. “It’s nice to meet you, Alex.” I have to remind myself to breathe. His beauty is making me weak. It’s something I’ve never felt before. I glance down at his red board shorts that hang low on his waist, accenting the toned-to-perfection muscles of his stomach. “Are you a lifeguard here or something?”

He looks down at his shorts and flicks them with his hand. “You’re the fourth person to ask me that today.” He laughs. “This is the last time I wear these. Not a lifeguard. Just a passerby who saw a hot girl drowning.”

“In three inches of water…” I add. So humiliating.

He wiggles his eyebrows up and down with a goofy smirk. “When I saw you were in trouble, I said to myself, ‘I
have
to meet this crazy girl.’”

Hot?

His words make my cheeks redden.

“So, if you’d thought I was ugly, you would have let me drown?”

“Pretty much,” he says. His perfect lips bend into a grin.

“Well, then. Thank you for finding me attractive enough to save.” I bite my lip, overwhelmed by unfamiliar emotions. “Is there anything I can do to repay your heroism?”

He scratches at the blond scruff on his chin. “If I’m not being too forward, would you join me for a coffee?” he asks. He rubs at the back of his neck. I can see in his eyes that he’s expecting a negative reaction.

Beautiful or not, maybe he is a little interested in me.

I can’t control the rush of excitement surging through me. “Yes,” I say. “I would like that.” I’m amazed that I manage to accept his invitation without sounding like a nervous fool.

He reaches his hand out to me again. I take it, feeling more like I want to keep it there this time. He pulls me up to my feet. I’m wishing he wouldn’t let go of me, but he releases my hand the moment I’m upright and retrieves my sweater from the sand.

We walk side by side. “Do you live here?” I ask.

“Yes, I do. A few blocks away.” He places his hands in his pockets, and kicks a rock into the water. “It’s a great place." He looks up at the sun and inhales the incoming breeze. "Where are you from?”

“What gave me away?” We both laugh at my question. “I’m from Massachusetts, actually. You know…where the temperature is still hovering around thirty-nine degrees in March.”

He nods. “I know Massachusetts well. It’s not a great place if you like to be warm all year-round.” He grins, revealing striking dimples in the center of his cheeks.

“How do you know Massachusetts? Do you have family there?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

We arrive at a little cabana like hut with a dangling sign that says Coco Java.

“What can I get you?” His eyes scan the chalkboard menu. “They’re known for their flavored iced coffees.”

How can I avoid telling him I don’t know anything about flavored coffees—that I’ve never even tasted coffee, period? I’m trying to hide the fact I’ve been locked in a room most of my life. For some reason, I don’t see any guy being attracted to that kind of girl.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I say.
Good thinking, Chloe.

As he’s ordering our coffees, an attractive blond girl walks up next to Alex and places her dainty tanned hand over his arm. She has perfect, beach wavy hair. She’s wearing a white bikini that accents her tanned curves and leaves little to the imagination. “Could you pass me a straw?” she asks him.