Sleepless

One thousand five hundred and sixty-one, one thousand five hundred and sixty-two, one thousand five hundred and sixty-three …

Urghhhh!

Pressing my pillow over my face, I muttered more unintelligible sounds. The images of the day cycled through my consciousness, as brilliant and lively as when I tried to go to bed three hours ago. Bright flashes of faces and colors twirled on an anxiety-fueled carousel. Each one another box on my never-ending list of things to worry about. Why couldn’t my brain shut off for even five minutes and let me panic about them tomorrow? Long enough to maybe, possibly, close my eyes and get a moment’s rest.

Please. Give me one night.

As I chucked my pillow to the floor, I stared up at the tiny peaks of the popcorn stucco ceiling. The only thing more frustrating than not being able to sleep was lying awake thinking about how terribly school would drag if I didn’t get any rest. I rolled my head toward my nightstand and tapped my phone screen. Already a quarter after one. Looked like another zombie day for me tomorrow. The third one this week.

I closed my eyes and tried to recollect the relaxation techniques from that lame yoga class Lane dragged me to last summer. The instructor spent the entire session sitting on a chair, bellowing instructions while she scrolled on her cell phone. But I vaguely remembered her saying something about thinking about your breathing. Be one with your breath? Whatever it was, I’d try anything. I inhaled deep until my lungs burned and my chest swelled like an over-inflated balloon.

Exhale.

Air flowed out of my body, and a calm tingle prickled through my limbs. My fingers stretched out from my clenched fists and sank into the mattress. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

My covers rose as I breathed in again, and my brain waded in the stream of lightheaded dizziness that followed.

Exhale.

My heart slowed its banging against my ribs. Maybe that class wasn’t a waste of time after all. Lane might need to take control of my life more often.

Inhale.

Maybe I could convince Dad to sign up for yoga? Get him to relax a bit too.

Exhale.

But that meant he’d have to stop drinking long enough to make it through the full hour.

Inhale.

He’d probably just laugh it off or go into one of his self-deprecating rants that I didn’t want to listen to. And it wasn’t my responsibility to take care of him. Wasn’t he supposed to be the adult? I needed to deal with my own problems. Not like he’d ever notice anyway.

Exhale. The scholarship panel. Inhale. The state volleyball finals. Exhale. Josh and all his frustrating plans. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Ahhhh!

I threw the covers off my body and dangled my feet over the edge of the bed, my head gripped tight in my hands. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t even relax properly. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes, but I pushed them down. A familiar heaviness crept into my chest and tugged at the hollow deep inside. If I could only talk to Mom, she’d know exactly what to do. She always did. I shouldn’t still miss her, but I couldn’t stop.

A knotted ball built in my throat as I struggled to push the painful memories from my brain, the smell of her rose-scented shampoo still flooding my senses and refusing to let go. I swallowed and pressed my fingertips into my scalp until it all subsided. A roaring wave receding back into the ocean after crashing on the shores of my near-delirious mind.

I peeked between my fingers into the darkness. A slit of blue moonlight cut across the floor, silent and still. It seemed to stare up at me. Like it didn’t understand why I was sitting there so sad. A strange companion, but at least I wasn’t the only one awake. I could always rely on the moon.

Pushing myself off the bed, I sank my toes into the scratchy carpet and followed the line of light to the window. The cool night air fell off the glass as I pulled back the bulky plum-colored curtain. Goosebumps spread across my bare arms, and I hugged them to my chest.

The moon hung close tonight. Big and full. It cast a glow over the tops of the evergreens, then splintered into shards through the mass of thick branches before it touched the ground. Pieces of light dotted the grass like fallen stars plucked from the sky and discarded—some stranger’s wishes never coming true.

My shoulders dropped as the tension in my muscles flowed out onto the floor, and my eyes started to droop as I gazed out into the night. I sighed, and my warm breath made a foggy circle on the windowpane. I drew a smiling face with my finger, but it didn’t cheer me up. If I ever got through all this stuff on my brain, I needed to take an entire day off just to sleep. Maybe if I could get to Thanksgiving, everything would be okay.

One month. I could handle that.

As if agreeing with my plan, my mouth fell open into a wide yawn. Finally. I started pulling the curtain back into place, but my hand stopped midway. Orange light flashed just beyond the backyard gate. I wiped away the smiley face and leaned closer to the window, but the light disappeared. I must be tired. Now I’d started seeing things. I blinked and tugged at the curtain again. Another flicker flashed in the distance. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand.

The flicker came again. An orange flare blazing out in the dark—bigger and brighter than before. It stayed this time, growing more intense as I stared at it. Dammit. It’s a brush fire.

I grabbed a sweatshirt and my phone then bolted out of my bedroom. It was probably those middle school wannabe deviants from up the street. They were always egging houses and knocking over mailboxes, or lurking on the sidewalk pretending to be little juvie hall villains. Last time one of them lit a fire in the backwoods, it almost took out the entire neighborhood.

From the hall closet, I pulled out the fire extinguisher, then slid through the patio door and across the back lawn. A cool fall breeze zapped the last of my growing drowsiness and shocked me awake. Great. These little punks better run. Through the slats of the fence, the fire seemed to disappear, but it still danced amber and tangerine against the treetops. I struggled to dial 911 on my phone as I yanked open the back gate and rushed into the woods, fire extinguisher balanced in my other hand, ready to strike.

Hello, said a chipper voice at the end of the line.

Hi, I’d like to report—

You’ve reached the Lethe, Illinois emergency dispatch center. If this is an emergency, please stay on the line and an operator will be with you shortly. If not, please hang up and call our non-emergency service number during the hours of eight to five, Monday to Friday.

The line clicked, and a too-loud piano cover of Für Elise assaulted my eardrum. My head jerked, and the phone nearly slid down my shoulder, but I, thankfully, kept it from falling in the dark. Only twelve thousand people even lived in this town. How could there be enough emergencies that all lines were full?

I stumbled on the uneven ground but managed not to trip. I’d played back here enough times to follow the pathways led only by the dim light of my cell phone, but not being able to see my feet still presented a challenge.

The piano lulled, then burst into another song as I neared a clearing by the creek. I skidded to a stop. Flames flickered in the wind all around. Fat red and gold candles ran against the edges of the tree line in a perfect circle. What the hell?

I crept closer. More candles burned in the middle of the space. I stepped over the fiery line and knelt near a basket of marigolds. Picture frames of what looked like tarot cards sat among misshapen gourds and pinecones. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? I slipped my fingers across the red blanket under the collection of random trash. Soft and silky. Too luxurious to be sitting on a forest floor. Stolen goods, maybe? But why all the candles?

A chill crept up my back, and I rose to my feet. I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up.

I don’t know who’s out here, but I’ve already called the cops, and they are on their way.

No response, only the whisper of the water flowing against the rocks in the creek.

I mean it. Don’t mess with me. You’ve got about one minute to get out of here before they show up.

Still silence.

I bent over and blew out the center candles. If they fell over, this whole place would go up in an inferno. I followed around the circumference of the circle, quenching the wicks one after the other. The creepy tarot cards watched me in their cheap gold frames. I couldn’t see them in the dark, but the weight of stares sat heavy between my shoulders. I shivered and shook my head. It had to be the freakish cards.

As each flame died, it plunged me deeper into the darkness but also brought me closer to getting back to my bed so I could stare at the ceiling for a few more hours before school. I turned the last corner of the circle. The wind blew harder against my skin. Cold. Wintry.

Leaves rustled from the bushes behind me. I spun around.

You’d better get the hell out of here. The cops will be here any second, I yelled into the emptiness as I pulled my phone out of my hoodie.

The bushes kept rustling.

I’m serious. I tried to dial the emergency line again but struggled against my trembling fingers.

Voices echoed off the trees, and the hurried crunch of footsteps headed away from the clearing. My eyes narrowed as if squinting would help my sight against the dark, but only inky shadows raced up the creek bed toward the street. I backed up, my finger still positioned on the send button. Looked like I’d scared them off. Whoever they were.

My legs quivered, ready to run, but my brain screamed to not leave the candles burning. A disaster waiting to happen that would be all my fault if I walked, or ran, away. Besides, it was probably some stupid kids. It had to be. Although my racing pulse tried to convince me otherwise. But what were they doing?

The wind whistled again, and the remaining flames shimmied in an eerie rhythm. Inhale. It’s only the wind. Exhale.

I leaned over to blow out another candle and froze.

A bright green light wavered ahead of me in the dark. Too green for a flashlight, too bright for a cell phone, and headed my direction.

Standing stick straight, I grasped the fire extinguisher tighter.

Who’s there? I’m not afraid of you, I called out, my legs shaking in contradiction.

The light stopped. It rose higher then plummeted to the ground, taking my stare with it. Finally, it hovered for a few seconds before speeding right at me.

I backed up, tripping over the candles, and dropped my phone. The light zoomed closer. Faster. Brighter. My ankles burned from the flames at my feet. My heart smashed against my chest. The light kept coming.

Get away from me! I pulled the pin from the fire extinguisher, then pressed the lever, aiming at the radiant beam. White smoke billowed around me. The light intensified. I dropped the canister and ran. The flare swooped past and came at me from the other direction. I screamed. It expanded in a feverish glow, blazing, until it collapsed and rammed at my stomach.

I fell to my knees, gasping and choking for air. Trees and moonlight swayed back and forth as the world moved in and out of focus. I lurched forward, my hands in the dirt. The flames from the remaining candles rose like hazy pyres into the sky. Taller. Frenzied.

My head slammed into the ground, and the musty smell of damp leaves seeped into my nose. An explosion of sharp copper stained my tongue. Then everything fell away, except for a bright green light fading into the black.

Please stop.

With eyes closed, I fumbled to find my phone and silence the alarm’s infernal buzzing. A calm stillness fell over my room, and my muscles relaxed, sinking my body deeper into the mattress. Much better. How could it possibly be morning already? I struggled to open my left eye, and a blaze of sun pierced my retina. With an irritated groan, I pulled a pillow over my head. What time did I finally fall asleep last night? I thought harder, but nothing materialized. How did I even get to bed at all?

After tossing the pillow aside, I sat against the headboard and curled my knees up to my chest. Not better. My head ached at the base of my brain, and any movement aggravated the pain more. I closed my eyes. Fire flickered in my memory. Candles. A strange green light. I ripped my eyes open again, my breath coming hard. Just a dream, Berkley. Just a weird, screwed-up dream.

My legs shook as I stood and staggered over to the mirror on my closet door. I yanked up my T-shirt, exposing the stomach of my reflection. No marks or bruises. I sucked in a breath then ran my fingertips across my abdomen and down the faint squiggly birthmark to the left of my belly button. Nothing out of the ordinary. I poked my index finger harder into my skin, but other than the sharp sting of my fingernail digging into my flesh, nothing hurt. I dropped the shirt hem and grabbed my forehead. Something hit me last night. Socked me right in the gut. I swore it. The pain flashed through my mind. So real, so vivid. It knocked the breath from my lungs. I couldn’t have really imagined something so realistic. Could I? My arms quivered as I hugged them close to my chest. I shook my head—trying to rattle my memories or dreams or whatever into place—but regretted it instantly as my headache pulsed at the back of my skull. Maybe I’d never know.

Steam filled the bathroom as I took my time in the shower, letting the scalding water soothe my aching brain. Time slipped away in the haze of my unfocused thoughts until my skin burned scarlet and I reluctantly turned off the taps. After sliding into my favorite jeans, I tiptoed down the stairs. Bright and cheerful sun streamed into the kitchen from the patio door. I recoiled and threw my hand over my eyes, hissing and wincing like a newborn vampire in a low-budget horror flick. I should march back upstairs and disappear under my duvet until tomorrow, when I could make another attempt at functioning as a human being, but missing class meant skipping the biology test third period and tanking my GPA. But today, I really wished I didn’t care.

In the cupboard above the sink, I sifted through the cough syrup and antacids until I spotted the red-and-white bottle of Tylenol. I tapped the last pill into my palm and swallowed it dry. It tasted like chalk and scraped down the sides of my throat, but I needed it working as fast as possible. Just the thought of relief eased the tense muscles in my shoulders.

I chucked the empty container in the trash, and a pinging sound rang from the bin. I pulled off the rotating lid of the can and cringed at the glass bottle lying among the remnants of last night’s spaghetti. No wonder Dad wasn’t awake yet. Whiskey benders always hit him the worst.

The kitchen blurred. I floated around in a daze, making toast and pouring juice on autopilot, too distracted by the headache to focus too intently on anything else. After flopping down into a chair at the table, I squinted and gazed out the patio door. The branches of the oak trees bent in the breeze over the top of the high wooden fence. I rubbed my stomach again, still expecting to feel something, but only rough cotton slid under my fingertips.

I sipped from my cup. Icy-cold orange juice flowed down my throat, but did nothing to quench my thirst. I chugged harder, my gulps audible as I savored every drop. Unfortunately, the thirst persisted. I refilled the glass and drained it again, then wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, out of breath. My stomach rumbled. I devoured both slices of toast and even picked at the crumbs on my plate. Since when did dry bread taste so fantastic? I slumped in my chair, still far from full. Volleyball practice had been intense lately. Maybe it had finally caught up to me?

A faint knock drifted in from the front hall, and I hurried to the door. Josh stood on the step with a beaming smile and freshly styled hair. Tall and broad and well slept.

Ready to go? he asked as he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.

Closing my eyes, I breathed him in. The crook of his neck smelled clean, like fresh laundry and bars of soap. I sank into the scent and let it try to scrub away my lousy mood.

Not quite, I mumbled. It’s been a rough morning.

Yeah, you look like you’ve been through hell.

I snapped out of my Josh intoxication and jerked my head back. Thanks.

Just saying. He shrugged and twined his index finger around my pinkie, swinging my arm forward. A lazy, sympathetic smile curled across his lips. Is it your dad again?

I pulled the door closed behind me. No, he’s still sleeping.

Well, can you hurry, please? Coach wants to talk to me and Brett before class today, and I don’t want to be late.

He glanced over his shoulder toward the street, his jaw clenched and cut ridges in his cheeks. Five days until the big game in Rockford and already the pressure bled into his expression. An elastic band pulled tight enough to break. A different kind of discomfort rose from the bottom of my stomach.

Maybe you should just go then. I cast my eyes down and followed the deep crack in the concrete step. I have a few things to do before I leave.

Turning his head to the side, he sank low to catch my duplicitous gaze. But what was it you wanted to say? You said it was important.

Never mind. It can wait. No big deal.

He tugged my hand closer and slipped his fingers between mine. Are you sure? I still have a little time. You made it sound like a big deal on the phone last night.

I shook my head. Just go, I’ll catch up with you later.

He narrowed his stare and scanned my face, each piercing smoky-blue glance burning hot against my skin. I couldn’t do this now. I wasn’t ready. My rough draft of the speech I needed to give had bounced around my brain for weeks already. A few more days wouldn’t hurt anything. Besides, what kind of awful person dropped something like this on someone when they were already struggling with other things? It wasn’t fair.

All right, I guess. But you know you can tell me anything, right?

Of course. Except this. This would hurt.

He yanked my arm forward, and I fell against his chest, the zipper of his football jacket scratching against my cheek. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and squeezed. I hope your morning gets better. See you later.

Yeah, later.

He released me and bolted down the driveway in a few quick strides. He opened the door to the Charger and stared back at me with an uneasy smile. Did he already know? He disappeared inside, and I jumped at the hollow slam of the door. Upsetting him before a big game would be a colossal mistake. The school would never forgive me. Besides, my tired mind couldn’t handle any sort of intelligent conversation with anyone right now. Especially one this delicate.

I fell back against the door and watched Josh’s taillights disappear down the street, regretting that I hadn’t left with him. Let him hold my hand on the drive and give me that smile. His charming, dangerous smile that made everything else fall away. The one I’d lost myself in too many times over the last two years we’d been together. A superpower far more impressive than his record-breaking passing yards stats.

Cars drove by and kicked up the leaves on the side of the road. My scattered brain drifted from Josh and wandered back to the mystery of last night. The green light had shone so bright. Too real to be imagined. Right? And the candles. A perfect circle like that couldn’t have appeared out of nowhere. I rubbed my face with my palm. Forget about it, Berkley. You’ll drive yourself insane. Why couldn’t I let it go? Except I never let anything go.

I ducked through the garage and cut out across the dew-soaked backyard. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tugged the back gate open. The thick of trees behind the fence whispered in the morning breeze. Beckoning, or maybe calling out a warning. Although my knees shook, I marched forward. The warm sun beat down on my skin, but my goosebumps covered my flesh as if ice water ran through my veins. I needed to see the clearing. Prove to myself that these crazy visions were all in my head. Or at least I hoped so.

I’d run through these backwoods so many times before, but now they seemed different. Wrong. I cowered at every little noise; the birds chirping overhead, a squirrel jumping between branches, or even the cracking of twigs beneath my own feet.

The trees thinned. I shook out my arms and summoned my last ounce of courage and jogged forward. It wasn’t far now.

The red and gold treetops above me shimmered in the sunlight as a soft breeze drifted off the creek and fluttered the falling leaves as they rained down. The leaves already on the ground swirled around my ankles and glided across the earthy floor. A picturesque autumn morning. The kind you’d see in a calendar or on a postcard. Unfortunately, it did little to untie the knot of dread in my chest.

Dusky sun rays glowed in the clearing, illuminating … absolutely nothing. What the hell? My shoulders dropped. The entire area looked undisturbed as if I’d discovered it for the first time. Completely wild and untouched.

I crouched and picked up a handful of leaves, crushing them in my fist. Dry as paper. Brittle as potato chips. The candles should’ve left wax drippings, but not a drop appeared on the brown flecks in my hand. I ran my fingers along the ground. Nothing. There should be burnt leaves too, but it would be impossible to tell with them already decomposing to a dead black. I blinked. I guess I did imagine it all.

Falling backward onto the ground, I scanned the space. Weird. It all seemed so real. Tangible. But if my visions had happened, that would definitely be worse. I rested my elbows on my knees and rubbed my temples, letting my breath slowly drain out of me. Enough. It was really just a dream.

I pushed up to my feet and brushed my hands across my butt for any debris that might have caught on my jeans, then headed back toward the path. A rustling sound echoed to my left. I stopped walking and scanned the bushes beside me. The branches shuddered. Slowly, I stepped away and my fists clenched. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, draping the woods in shadow. The bushes cracked again. My body tensed. Wound tight and ready to run, or fight, or who knew what. The sound intensified. Closer now. I froze. A small gray bunny leaped out from the leaves and bounded up the path. I shrieked. It sat up on its hind legs and wiggled its whiskered nose at me before running off toward the creek.

My heartbeat thumped in my ears, and I buckled over, grabbing my thighs and trying to slow my exaggerated breathing. A dream. Nothing more. And now I had proof. Just bizarre delirium from lack of sleep.

I hurried back to my yard and gasped as I latched the gate, locking my nightmares on the other side of the fence. My pulse slowed, and I walked toward the house.

Through the patio door, Dad sat motionless at the kitchen table, still in his bathrobe and plaid pajama pants. As I approached, he startled in his chair.

He sprang from the table and slid open the door. Shouldn’t you be at school?

I was just leaving. I needed to check something first. The words spilled out fast. Too fast.

He raised an eyebrow, and his lips clenched into a tight line. I hope you locked the gate. I don’t want anyone breaking in here when we aren’t home.

Yes, I locked the gate. I glanced back over my shoulder as a double-check. Looked shut tight. Don’t you have to get to work?

Dad crossed his arms, and his stare hardened. That’s none of your business. Besides, I’m not feeling very well today.

Right. Or any other day this past week.

Plus, I’ve got a splitting headache. Have you seen the Tylenol anywhere?

We’re out. I had the last one.

Grabbing the back of his head, he cursed under his breath. And you didn’t think to get more?

I jumped. My nerves still raw from the bunny encounter. I just took it this morning. I will pick some up for you after school.

That doesn’t do much for me right now, does it?

I’m sorry. I stepped back and stared down at the yellowing grass beneath my sneakers.

He sighed. It’s fine. My head is just killing me.

He ventured out barefoot onto the cold concrete patio,