Rachel Caine & Kristin Cast & Claudia Gray & Nancy Holder & Tanith Lee & Richelle Mead & Cynthia Leitich Smith & P. C. Cast (6 page)

“Hey.” I answered casually, pretending not to be excited.

“Hey. I thought you'd never answer. What are you doin'?”

“Nothin'.” I rolled my eyes.
Nothin'? I am so lame.

“Oh, well, that's cool. I just wanted to see if you're coming to Taylor's thing tonight. There's gonna be a DJ, and his older brother's bringing vodka and beer and stuff, so it should be pretty awesome.”

Of course I'm going. It's only like the biggest social event of the semester!
“Umm, yeah. I think Bridge and I'll probably make an appearance.”

“Good. I'll definitely look for you then.”

“Definitely. See ya tonight.” I hung up before I could start rambling about my undying love for him.
Oh my God he's so f-ing hot!

I fought off the urge to call Bridget and babble semi-hysterically about Connor actually calling me, and instead trotted to my closet on a wave of happy he's-almost-my-boyfriend thoughts, where my black Tinkerbell cocktail
dress hung waiting. Then I began digging my mom's cute gold shoes out of hiding from under my dirty clothes.

Sadly, Mom chose that instant to prove her radar wasn't fading with age. Thankfully, she knocked on my open door, giving me a split-second of warning.

I jumped. “Mother!” I tried to plaster on an innocent smile as I jerked around to look at her.

“I'm not yelling this time. Ew.” She looked at the wad of clothes I'd grabbed to camouflage her shoes. “Don't tell me you're wearing something dirty to your little get-together thing tonight.”

“No, Mom, I'm just looking for my, uh, headband. You almost made me pee on myself.”

“Sorry. Anyway, Paul's here so I'm heading out on my
date
. Maybe I'll even have a little sex. Hehe.” She made herself giggle and turn red as she left me with that disgusting mental picture.

Oh barf! Is everyone having sex except me?
I stood up and thought about Connor.
Wait! It's been an hour already?!
I whipped around to face the clock: 9:03.
Shit.
I frantically dressed myself, found the shoes, and ran into the bathroom to put on my face. Luckily, it only takes a little eyeliner and mascara to bring me back from the dead. I checked my phone: 9:21 P.M.
Okay, shoes, and then the thirty-minute drive to the Ambassador.
The shoes, however gorgeous they may be, took about twenty minutes for me to buckle. I'm not a contortionist; feet aren't supposed to bend like that. Stupid (gorgeous) shoes.

I ran downstairs, grabbed Mr. Pepper and my gold clutch, checked for lip gloss and my ID, and nearly tore the
key hook out of the wall in my efforts to bolt out the front door.

“Please start.” I sent out a quiet prayer as I ran down the front sidewalk, crunching autumn leaves on my way. I got in and turned the key to my 1969 cherry-red Mustang. It's a super cute car, it just doesn't always run.

Vrrrrrooomm.
“Success!” I took off down the street and got about five miles away from my house before my super cute car died. I dropped my head against the steering wheel, banged it a few times, and felt around the passenger seat for my cell phone. “Of course, you forgot it, Jenna. And the camera! Dammit! Bridget's gonna be pissed!” I slouched down in my seat, smashing the puffiness of my dress, and silently cried for my mommy.

As if my mom had miraculously appeared, her words trickled in through my tears: “Jenn, use your bus pass, you silly girl. I got it for you because your car kind of sucks.”
Well, duh.
I stopped crying and checked my eyes in the rearview mirror. Thank God for waterproof eye makeup and close bus stops. My mom's gold shoes were definitely not made for walking.

When I got to the bus stop I chose to stand alone while three other people crammed themselves on a bench made for two.
This would be so much easier and way less gross if I had just remembered my phone. Now I have completely passed being fashionably late and entered the “you think you're too good to actually be here” time. And what if Connor is dancing with someone else?!

“It's you.” A male voice broke through my internal rant.
Great. I haven't been here ten minutes and I'm already getting hit on by a bus person creeper.

“Well, I'm glad you think so.” I crankily angled my back toward him and turned my attention to my clutch and my friend Mr. Pepper.
I have got to get a new car
.

“You don't understand. You're—”

I could feel him getting closer so I shoved my hand into my clutch. “No
bud
, I don't think you understand! If you say another syllable in my general direction,” I whipped out the pepper spray so the Mr. Pepper label was clearly visible, “I will spray this right in your—holy hell!”

I sucked in enough air to oxygenate a small country as I shot off of my pillow.

My hands were shaking so badly that I could hardly open the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Jenna! I was just calling to remind you to bring your camera tonight. We're going to have sooo much fun at Taylor's hotel party! I can't wait! Being seniors is sooo much fun! What are you wearing?”

“My black dress with my mom's new gold shoes?” Huh? What? I rubbed my face, trying to reorient myself.

Bridget gasped. “No way! Those new strappy heels from Saks? That is so not fair! We're going to look super hott, like always.”

I interrupted her rambling, “Is this a joke, Bridget?”

“Jenn, you know I take fashion and parties very seriously. Are you okay? You're weren't sleeping, were you?”

“Umm, no, no. I'm fine. Just having a mad case of déjà vu.” Thirst burned the back of my throat and my head pounded with confusion. I was
not
okay.

“Creepy. Anyway, try not to go crazy 'til after tonight, k? Ugh, hang on, my mom is yelling at me.” Bridget's familiar whines were muffled. “She wants me to tell you not to forget your cell phone because that gross serial killer guy just killed someone else. Well duh, he's a
serial
killer, jeez. Sorry, she is so protective and weird. But anyway, I have to go finish getting gorgeous. See you at the Ambassador at ten! Love you, and don't forget the digital!”

I closed the phone, then dropped it on the floor and fell back onto my fluffy down pillow.

“What in the hell kind of dream was that?” I rolled over and looked at my clock: 7:57 P.M.,
weird
.

“Jenna! Do you know where my gold strappy shoes are? I just bought them and they've already
mysteriously
disappeared.”

I hesitated, staring at her as she stood in the doorway. She was surrounded by a strange vanilla-colored cloud of mist. I rubbed my eyes and blinked a few times, and it went away. “Mom, what did you say?”

“My shoes. The gold ones. From Saks. Look, Jenna it's okay if you wore them, but I really don't have time for this. Paul's going to be here,” she looked down at her watch, “in less than an hour. So?”

“Umm, no, I haven't seen them.”

“Hmm, well, if you do let me know.” Puzzled, she stared at me with her forehead all scrunched.

“What?”

“Nothing, for a second you just seemed different. Well, have fun tonight. Oh! And Jenn, don't forget to take Mr. Pepper. He's in his spot by the front door.”

I sat up in bed, staring out the door.
It was just a dream. A really weird, freaky dream. I bet if I think about it longer I'll have played poker with the beaver and Abe Lincoln like in that insomnia commercial.

Ow!
White light burned through my mind along with a picture and a memory. I had an insanely vivid flash of the guy at the bus stop, and two words screamed through my mind: “
FIND ME!
”

“What the hell!” I lifted up the covers to make sure I was wearing clothes and had all of my limbs.
Completely intact. What is going on?

I heard from beside me:
You start to wonder why you're here not there.

Leaning over, I slowly picked up my phone from off the floor. Connor. Just like before. This time I hit the ignore button with shaky fingers and turned the phone on silent.
Maybe I need some water. I'll rehydrate. Wake up.
As I got out of bed, I felt something jab the bottom of my foot. I picked up the frame to my glasses, which I had just smashed.
Wait. I can see? I shouldn't be able to see.
I stuck my finger in my eye. No contacts.
Weird déjà vu dreams curing blind-as-a-bat-ness?

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror.
Is this what people look like when they're crazy? What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?
“Jenna, just go get some water and some
extra-strength Tylenol,” I told myself, hoping speaking my thoughts out loud would bring some sanity to my mind.

As I walked past my mom's open door on my way downstairs to the kitchen I heard her weirdly familiar words.

“Hey! Paul's here so I'm heading out on my
date
. Maybe I'll even have a little sex. Hehe.” I cringed as she flitted past me.
That doesn't get any better the second time around.
I glanced at the clock on the wall: 9:03.

I took comfort in doing something as normal as getting a glass from the cabinet. My cabinet, my normal cabinet. And water from my sink, my normal sink. A cool fall wind blew in through the partially open window, bringing the familiar smell of autumn leaves to me. Just like before. Just like when I was walking to my car. My brain launched itself into another flashback seizure as my mind's eye filled with another painful vision. I dropped my glass and it shattered, raining shards of crystal at my feet.

“
FIND ME!
” The voice,
his
voice, sounded more impatient, and it was coupled with images from the bus stop.

Then I knew. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but I knew he was there waiting.

I didn't even notice anything wrong with my foot until I was upstairs putting on my shoes. I was shocked by the small pieces of glass that had stuck in my heel. Blood was staining my fuzzy green carpet. As I painlessly pulled out the glass, I brought it to my face. Holy crap! My blood wasn't my blood
anymore! It was no longer bright red and penny-smelling. Instead it was dull amber, and the sweet, soothing smell relaxed me and made me feel at home.

My foot was completely healed by the time I put on my Coach tennis shoes and ran down the stairs and out the door.
Am I like that chick off of
Heroes
? The one who heals herself over and over again?

I hesitated as I reached my car. “Jenna, maybe driving is not such a good idea. Not only are you getting weird voicemails in your head, but today seems to be some sort of twisted repeat, so why would your car work this time?” I find that sometimes talking to myself is the best way to sort through my problems, and I am such a good listener. “Where is a do-gooder neighbor when you need one?” I looked but of course, chivalry is dead, and so was my neighborhood.

“Aaaah! I just want to be at the freaking bus stop, people!” I closed my eyes and threw a mini temper tantrum, stomping my foot like a toddler in a toy store. There was a sudden rush through my body that made me feel like I was falling off a tall building. When I unsquished my face and looked around I realized I was there, at the freaking bus stop! And I was sitting on my butt in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Well, that's not right.”