The Misadventures of Daria Pigwidgeon (22 page)

We’re going too fast to come to a complete stop, or maybe Chance realizes a little too late that stopping in the middle of oncoming traffic isn’t the best idea, because in the next instant we’re swerving to the left. And avoid getting hit by an oncoming SUV on our right. With the sound of screeching tires loud in my ears, I get slammed in the door. All my breath leaves me in a rush and before I get it back, we’re swerving to the right avoiding another car.

As fast as we arrived in the intersection, we’re shooting through the thing and flying down the road before us. The sound of horns honking is left behind. All I hear now is our heaving breaths. Chance continues to drive for another minute (how, I have no idea, I would have stopped dead in traffic) before pulling over on the side of the road. Looking around, I don’t even think we’re close to home yet, which is a little unnerving. All this time spent in the car, we should have made it home by now.

Twilight Zone indeed.

We sit in silence both trying to control our breathing. My heart hammers inside me and my chest heaves along with it. Risking a glance at Chance, I notice he’s sitting perfectly ridged. His hands are gripping the steering wheel tight. His knuckles are white from the effort, enough to see it in the dark. He’s staring straight ahead, as if he’s afraid to be startled again, even though we’re in fact alone now.

That’s when I hear him mumbling something. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up.

“Whoa. Whoa. Shit. Shit. Whoa.”

I whole heartily agree with that sentiment.

In the shortest ride back home (finally, I might add this has been the longest birthday ever and the worst too. Is it still my birthday? Wow.) Chance and I surmised it would probably be beneficial to finish our little discussion in a much safer environment. For instance, one that is
not
in the middle of a cloaked road. That’s my guess for what happened anyway. It’s not really that out there if you think about it. I mean here I am, a girl that can fog people’s minds to slip by them unnoticed. What’s to stop another of my kind to have that same kind of ability, but at a much greater level? Nothing, that’s what.

It does make me wonder though. Especially about who or what attacked me. I felt fear before, but that was after the street I previously walked on was empty. So that could only mean, that whoever was out their tonight was already planning something. Clearly, it was even before I went to the motel. This doesn’t make me feel any better. Was their more than one? Should that make me feel worse? Either I have one jacked up demon after me or I have a whole mob of them out there.

Neither theory makes me feel any better and with good reason. They both suck.

The big question that I can’t quite shake though, is why? Why did whatever it was hide from me while I was in the car? Then to only make me feel it when it took off? I know part was intentional, like a threat. Whoever it was, wanted me to know they are out there. They could have easily slipped away without my notice, but they chose to give my power a push. That screams intentional to me.

That, and the small fact that Chance and I were transplanted into the middle of an intersection I don’t remember entering. We must have been driving on a never ending straight road for miles. Or were we even driving at all? Maybe our minds were just cloaked and we were on pause or something. But then wouldn’t the people on the road have to be cloaked as well? How about the little coincidence that I had just come clean about having a soul when I felt the tickle on the other end of my power? Am I simply being paranoid with that?

Ugh, I just can’t wrap my head around the how in that factor. Or maybe I simply don’t want to. It’s enough to send me over the deep end screaming the whole way. It does make me wonder if I’m capable of that kind of thing though. Not that I’d ever do it, but it is interesting. No doubt about that. Talk about the highway to hell, pun totally intended here. This whole night is like a bad dream, oh excuse me, the whole day has been.

I really shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. I should be thinking about the boy that is currently trying to pace a hole into the carpet in front of my couch. He’s been doing this since we came in about twenty minutes ago whereas I went right to sitting down, bringing my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms tight around them. I can’t imagine what is going through his mind right now. It’s probably just as jumbled as mine, more so maybe. At least I have the advantage of mostly knowing about the threat.

He doesn’t.

Every time he restarts his repetition, and comes back towards me, I get a good at him. I’d like to say I’m not worried about how he’s taking all of this, but then I’d be lying. I can see the way his shoulders are hunched when he moves, the way his hands work themselves into knots over each other, and the way his too beautiful eyes crinkle a little at the corners and scrunch his nose just a bit. It’s enough to make me want to go to him and make him feel better. But I don’t. I stay put. Who knows what he’s thinking? I could make things worse if I ruin his mental tirade.

I definitely don’t want that.

Some time goes by and when I lose count of how many times he passes by me and back, I decide it’s best to break this silence we have.

“So, um, are you convinced this is all just a bad dream yet?” I say a little too loudly, and then mentally smack myself.

Chance jumps at my voice, and spins back around to face me from his position on the other side of the room. The way he looks at me with wide eyes, I think he might have forgotten where he was. I stay silently watching him, as if I don’t want to spook him any further, and I really don’t. His stance relaxes just a bit, as he takes in his surroundings before finally focusing on me. It takes him another moment to realize I said words and not just sounds, and another moment to let it register. Now he has me worried.

“No.” He says in nothing more but a whisper then clears his throat and gives his head a shake before continuing. “I’ve had enough to know the difference.”

I give him a funny look and clutch my legs closer to my chest. For some reason, the way he said that just now, makes me want to shiver. As it is, with him watching me so intently, I barely resist the urge. It doesn’t stop me from wondering about it though.

Sounding more concerned than I planned, I ask “Bad dreams?”

He nods enthusiastically, but stays quiet.

His silence makes me quickly say, “About?”

Now he looks like the worried one. And it hits me then. What if he wasn’t struggling to keep himself composed after everything I told him? What if this is about what he has to tell me? I don’t hold bad the shiver that passes over me this time.

“Daria,” he clears this throat again before continuing (Something that is starting to make me extremely nervous) and says “They’ve been about you.”

I can only stare at him stupefied, because I don’t know what’s worse. That he dreamed about me or the fact that he used my name? Regardless, you could seriously hear it if a pin were to drop in the room right now. But he doesn’t elaborate any further. That makes me restless. I suspiciously narrow my eyes at him. He does have the grace to appear embarrassed, bully for him. Still he doesn’t say anything more and at this point, I’m about ready to shout at him.

“So, uh, you’ve been,” I start but have to clear my throat (it must be catching) before continuing “You’ve been dreaming about me?”

He blushes and glances away. I watch as he raises his hands and racks them through his hair, causing it stand on end. His movements are pure embarrassment and I can feel my cheeks heat at the sight. That can only mean one thing. His dreams must be of the male preference variety. Yikes, I so did not want to know about that. What goes on in the mind of a boy in his sleep is his own business.

I must make a sound of astonishment, because he turns back to me guiltily. His eyes scan over my blushing cheeks, and they go large in understanding. He goes right to shaking his head, and if possible, his own cheeks get even brighter. Leaving his position from across the room, he quickly makes his way towards the opposite end of the couch. Sitting down, it’s pretty obvious that he tries
not
to get within touching distance.

This is fine with me; I don’t need any help in making my mind wander.

When his eyes search out mine, I have to clutch my legs even tighter in my arms. Otherwise I’d be seriously running out the door. His voice snaps me out of my wandering mind.

“I have. Been dreaming about you I mean. But it’s not the kind I’m sure your thinking of. Well, sometimes those might surface, but not like I’d want them to. It’s mostly the others recently.”

Okay. So now he rambles when he’s nervous? That’s new.

“I don’t understand.” I tell him.

And I don’t, not really. My head feels full. He seems to notice this, because he sighs, then turns so that he is fully facing me.

“Daria, I’ve been dreaming about you every night since you moved here.” A smirky smile slips through his lips, “It’s basically why I’ve been a dick to you. I thought I was losing my mind. It’s a relief to know I’m not.”

It explains the dick-ness, because yes, he’s been that. But, his rambling is losing me. So I tell him so.

“Wait. I don’t get it. You’ve been dreaming about me, in what way?”

His forehead scrunches up as he thinks about this. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he forms what he wants to say. The moment he figures it out, it plays across his features like a realization.

“This is where it gets confusing.” I resist rolling my eyes at him, but I do shrug (as if saying whatever, just get on with it already) “At first I didn’t think it meant anything, just that I thought you were hot. Which I still do, don’t get me wrong. Then they changed after a while, and I knew there was something else going on.”

“What changed?” I ask expectantly, ignoring completely that he thinks I’m hot.

“Well, I’m not sure really. But in the dreams I think I might have been seeing your past, maybe?” The way he looks at me, it’s like he’s asking me, but damned if I know. I shake my head in awe and he continues.

“I don’t know though, it’s all kind of hazy. I just remember a girl that looks just like you, but ten years younger. In them, you were always hiding, but in plane sight.” He pauses to release a shaky laugh, “There was one in particular, where you were crouched on a kitchen table with your hands in a chocolate cake.”

His eyes sparkle at the memory, mine only glower. Clearly he only saw the beginning of that particular memory, so I glare until the smile is gone from his face.

“Anyways, you were always surrounded in them, but no one noticed you. I got the feeling that you wanted it that way, but it kept them all from seeing how alone you actually were.”

A gasp slips through my gaping lips, and my chest rises and falls with surprise. I think there might even be tears lurking just shy of falling out of my eyes. From such a simple dream, he got all of that? How could he possibly? It doesn’t make any sense. Or is in no way fair.

“Chance, I, I don’t know what to say to that.” I say in a whisper.

“It’s true then? Is it why you came here, because of the people in the background that never seemed to see you?” He asks a touch over too serious.

Nodding, I say “Yes.”

“That’s what I figured too, after a while. But, that’s not the only reason I suspected anything about you. It was the others.”

Oh boy, here’s that word again. Nothing good can come from the infamous ‘others’.

Fearing the worst I ask, “What were they about, the other dreams?”

He shakes his head.

“Not other dreams. The others. They started out as blurry clouds of light, that followed younger you around. When I started seeing the you of now, that is when the voices started.”

See what I mean? Nothing good.

“Voices, seriously?” I say incredulously.

“Yeah, tell me about, I thought I was having a psychotic break or something.” He lifts his shoulders in a massive guy shrug that sort of implies that he over it already. “They were whispers mostly, but the intent was clear. To keep you safe, I needed to be around you at all times.”

Excuse me? Keep me safe? Oh frak me.

“What does that even mean?” I say with a squeak.

“Honestly? I have no freaking clue. But it’s the reason I’ve kind of been stalking you. That and I get this horrible feeling like something bad is going to happen. And I just know I NEED to keep you safe.”

He looks so serious again. It makes his blue eyes seem darker than they are. My mind flashes to when he opened his car door for me earlier tonight when I was lying on the road scared out of my mind. He believes what he’s saying, so much so, that I have no other choice by to believe him too.

It’s totally against my better judgment, but hey, that’s clearly been tossed out the window ages ago.

Trying for lightening the mood, I say “I guess that clears up the whole ‘it’s going to snow’ incident.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He glances away with a blush again (I’m thinking it looks wicked cute on him) before turning back with a grimace. “That was the first day after I heard the voices for the first time. I might have panicked.”

“So you believe it then? The dreams I mean.” I ask truly curious.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

Is it my imagination or is he suddenly sounding a little defensive? Whoops, my bad.

In an attempt to clarify, I say “It just seems so little to go on, for you to suddenly believe that there
was
something different about me.”

He moves closer to me now, and lowers his head a bit so that our eyes are even. My breath catches.

“Rabbit, trust me on this, it wasn’t sudden. Why do you think I’ve been such a head case?” He gestures his arms dramatically between us. “This is it.”

The boy does have a point. Something is still bothering me though. No time like the present I suppose.

“It doesn’t explain why you were in the road tonight right when I needed you.”

Sighing, he leans away from me so that he’s sitting back against the couch. It’s a move to appear comfortable, it’s anything but though. It screams tension. I know how he feels. My arms tighten around my legs, to the point of making my feet tingle.