Intrinsical

by Lani Woodland

  “Uh . . . can we go?” Audrey begged. “Personally, I don’t want to be here. I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I said as I stood up and then swayed, grabbing the table.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Cherie said, steadying me. “You guys go ahead. Steve and I will clean up.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” I asked her, realizing the evening hadn’t gone according to her well-laid plans.

  “Of course!” Her entwined hands shook and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “What else could I have asked for? We made contact.” I reached out to her and gave her a hug before she shoved my purse in my hand and pushed me off toward the ladder with a sniff.

  Travis and Audrey waved goodbye as soon as they reached the top and quickly disappeared down the hall toward the window, eyeing me curiously. I had a feeling they were anxious to talk privately about what I claimed to have seen and what had happened. Climbing down the ladder had been nervewracking; going up seemed twice as menacing because my body was still weak. I followed behind Brent, inching my way toward the top, gripping the rungs tightly.

  When we made it to the window, I looked warily down to the ground as Brent climbed out the window and swiftly down the tree.

  “Just get to the tree and then I’ll catch you,” Brent offered.

  My shaking arms hugged the branch and I hoisted myself out the window. Brent smiled up at me, his outstretched arms ready to catch me. I landed in his strong embrace and clung tightly to him. I took a deep breath and let the crisp air cleanse out the anxiety I was feeling. He set me gently down but kept his arm around me as he started walking back toward our dorms. Involuntarily, I kept peeking at him out of the corner of my eye.

  Brent stopped, leaning against one of the trees. “Do you want to ask me something?”

  “I know you saw him,” I said, picking at the sequins on my dress.

  “Yeah. I was just overwhelmed. Still am.” Brent sighed. “Aren’t you?” I nodded wearily. “It’s a lot to process. Could we talk about it?”

  “I thought guys didn’t talk about their feelings,” I teased.

  His blank expression made me think he didn’t catch my reference to his earlier statement.

  “Sure, we could do that,” I said, grinding the heel of my shoe into the walkway.

  “Good. Let’s go somewhere where we can be alone. I know the perfect place.” He took my hand and tugged me forward.

  The moon was full, immersing us in blue beams while a scattering of clouds inked the evening sky. Our lone steps echoed through the stone corridors and cobbled pathways as we wandered hand in hand around campus, ending finally at the new pool house.

  “It’s going to be locked,” I warned, as Brent walked around the glass building, heading toward a side door.

  “Oh, ye of little faith . . .” he smiled broadly, bringing a key out of his pocket and dangling it in front of me. “I might have borrowed this from Coach Tait.”

  “And is he aware that you have that?” I laughed, as he unlocked the door.

  “He asked me to come back and clean up the bricks and towels after practice, and since it would be locked, he let me borrow his key. It’s a shame I haven’t seen him yet.”

  “That is a shame,” I agreed, walking through the door he held open for me. It was a shade darker in here than it was outside and my eyes squinted slightly to make out the shapes in the room.

  “I would turn on the lights, but then we might get caught,” Brent explained as he followed me into the room.

  Surprisingly enough, there was still enough light to walk around by. Sconces on the walls glowed dimly, providing enough light that it was possible to maneuver through the room without fear of falling into the pool. I was grateful. I didn’t feel like trudging through campus in a sopping wet formal dress.

  I made my way over to a plastic lounge chair, which squeaked in protest as I sat on it.

  “So talk.” I dropped my purse beside me on the chair and leaned back on my hands.

  Brent held up a finger and walked toward the locker room. The sound of his footsteps echoed around the room, and I looked around absently while I waited for him. I noticed vaguely that a banner had been set up for tomorrow’s pre-season swim meet against Sierra Academy, Pendrell’s arch rival. Brent would be swimming in that and I planned to take advantage of the chance to admire him working in his natural habitat. He was fantastic eye candy, and I had earned the right to a few cavities.

  The room felt cold and I rubbed my hands together for warmth. A sudden feeling of being watched crept over me. I wasn’t alone in the room—I could smell the musky scent of the second ghost; he had followed us here. I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and glanced around the room, not seeing anything.

  Brent came back with two cups filled with purple liquid and I attempted to look calm. “Grape juice,” he said, handing me one of the cups. “I had a feeling we might be coming here tonight,” he confessed with a grin. “I kept this in the coach’s fridge. Cheers.” He clanked his plastic glass against mine.

  I lifted the cup to my lips prepared to drink when I lost my grip and it fell, spilling across my dress and crashing to the floor. I cursed at my clumsiness wiping the excess liquid from my lap and watched the juice stain the floor.

  “More shaken than I thought,” I said sheepishly.

  “I think you need this more than I do,” Brent said extending his cup to me. My hands were unsteady as I reached for it. Brent smiled softly and shook his head. “You’re a mess. Let me help.” He brought his cup to my lips, the cup shaking, a sheen of sweat forming along his brow. The plastic cup pressed against my lips and I drank down the grape juice gratefully.

  I coughed at the bitter aftertaste. “That might have fermented.”

  “Maybe,” he laughed lowering the cup. “But you probably need more sugar in your system to keep from going into shock. One more drink.” I frowned at him as he tilted the cup toward me, but I took another drink anyway, grimacing as I swallowed. “Feel better?” Brent asked, bringing his arm around my shoulder.

  “Not from the drink,” I choked with a smile. Then, being serious, I answered, “I think so. It’s been a bad night. How are you?”

  “There aren’t really words to describe what that was like,” Brent said setting down his cup and loosening his tie.

  “Was it your brother?”

  Brent shrugged in a noncommittal fashion.

  I picked up one of the cups and rolled it between my fingers, swirling the last few drops of the juice over the thick clump of dregs stuck to the bottom. “The two of you look an awful lot alike.”

  Brent nodded. “I’m still thirsty. You drank all my juice,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder. He looked me over. “You still look pale. Want some more?”

  I shook my head. “Water, no more of that juice. It’s awful.”

  “All right. I spotted some water bottles in the fridge. I’ll go get those.” Brent laughed as he stood and disappeared into the locker room.

  I glanced at the clock and it read ten-thirty. I sighed, thinking of how much homework I still had left to do before I went to bed. I picked up my purse, checking to see if I had any breath mints. My tongue rubbed the inside of my mouth, trying to get rid of the bitter taste. A tickle in my throat spread to my toes as the world blurred and shifted. Something slammed into my body and hurled me across the room, through the glass walls and into the groves. Trees, people, and buildings sped past me faster than a striking snake. When I hadn’t shattered the glass and sliced myself to ribbons, I realized I had astral projected. I landed prostrate on the ground with a thud; my stomach turned like it was seasick and my head felt fuzzy as I attempted to stand.

  “What was that?” I asked myself, struggling to my feet.

  “Yara!”

  I spun around and my head felt like the inside of a blender as I found Brent standing beside me instead of back in the pool house. I noted with surprise that he had changed fro
m his suit back into his school uniform.

  “Get back to your body,” he demanded, his brow furrowing.

  “How did you get here so fast? Why did you change?” I asked, trying to catch my balance, my hands flailing in front of me. I stumbled over my own feet, feeling unusually heavy, as my hands caught the limb of a tree, the leaves scratchily poking me. Feeling sluggish, like I was moving through sand, I stretched out my hand toward Brent, my entire arm feeling like it was bound in heavy shackles. For a fragment of a second the corners of my vision seemed hazy and my vision blurred like I was looking through thick glass. I took a step back to find an odd squishing feeling between my toes, a heavy sogginess in my shoes.

  Brent stretched his arms protectively to my shoulders, his hand slipping on my slick skin now beaded with water. Lifting his hand he examined the moisture on his fingers rubbing it between his fingers, worry lines creasing his forehead.

  “You have to get back to your body.”

  My hair clung to my face and shoulders, plastered there by the chemically-laced water that was suddenly dripping from it. I felt . . . wrong, and once again my vision grew fuzzy. I tried again to breathe but my lungs resisted like my chest was caught in an iron cage that refused to let it constrict. I coughed violently, chlorinated water gurgling from my lips.

  “Go back,” he begged, grabbing my shoulders, shaking them so hard my head rattled. Brent lifted my chin forcing me to look at him. His eyes were dark against his unnaturally pale coloring. “Listen to me, Yara, you’re dying. You’re drowning. You’ve got to reconnect with your body before it’s too late.” He rested his forehead against mine. “Please.”

  The words he was saying seemed important but my mind was slow and unable to make sense of them. He kept murmuring about my body, wanting me to go back. This seemed important to him so I quit arguing and tried to obey. I closed my eyes, concentrating, trying to find the tether that linked my soul and body so I could reunite them but couldn’t find it, almost like the connection had been severed.

  It’s not there, I thought, unable to speak, my eyelids drooping.

  He scooped me up in his arms, holding me tight, running faster than a shooting star toward the pool. The lights were off when we got there, and the door was closed but Brent paused only for a moment to readjust me and raise his hand before the door popped open. Once inside, Brent ran to the edge and plunged us into the water.

  Under the water, I could see my body sinking in the depths of the pool. Brent swam us toward it, but something invisible stopped us and flung us back with a flash of orange light. We tried again with the same result. Something was keeping us from getting any closer. It was like my body was wrapped in an invisible container that was keeping me from it.

  Brent let go of me and swam alone toward the unseen barrier. He hesitated, his hands outstretched, feeling for the surface of it, until he smacked his palm against it, testing its strength. His face contorted with determination as he struggled, pushing, kicking and pounding with closed fists and flailing feet until the orange light blasted again, blindingly bright. Brent was right at the epicenter and I watched, horrified and helpless, as he was hurtled backward, like a rock skipping out from under a tire, and out from the pool.

  I was alone.

  Chapter 8

  The shimmery orange wall lingered for an instant longer before it disintegrated into a glitter of glowing orange sparks that extinguished as they cascaded down, like fireworks fading in the sky.

  “Brent!” I screamed, my heart booming recklessly from across the pool. I started to swim toward where he had just been but then, like a magnet, I was pulled toward my body, finally able to reconnect with it.

  My first thought was for Brent; he was probably back in his body, too, and I had to make sure he was okay after receiving the full brunt of the blast. My body didn’t want to cooperate, though; my mind was disoriented, and I blinked frantically to straighten my vision out. It didn’t help much. The bottom of the pool was dark, the water was cold, and I was shivering.

  I clawed toward the surface, determined to get out of the water, but I kept being dragged down by some unseen weight. My dress was caught on something, holding me captive under water.

  I tugged and pulled, but no matter how hard I struggled I still couldn’t wrench it free. I knew I didn’t have much time, and I fought so hard that my bending, breaking, and bloodied nails tore at the fabric until it was ripped to shreds, but I was still stuck. My only chance of escape was to get out of the dress; it had to come off.

  I tried to reach the buttons on the back of the gown but my hands were shaking too hard, and my frenzied fingers were unable to undo a single button. I was trapped.

  The water was pushing me down further, crushing my lungs until they felt like they were going to burst. Stubbornly, I held tightly to the tiny bit of life-giving air hiding in them. Refusing to give up, my legs and arms kicked and pulled in vain. The stale air in my chest needed to be released but I knew water would replace it. My snarled hair and beautiful dress swirled around me like some eerie movie. This all felt familiar and then I understood why. It was my nightmare.

  I’m dying, I thought as the hope inside me was brutally demolished by the terrible realization that my dream had not been a warning, but a foretelling; there would be no escape.

  The hazy black edges of my vision started to spread into the center of my sight. I bit my lips together, fighting the inevitable, while hope still remained in my heart. I had seen this before, night after night. If I could hold out a little longer, help would come. He always came, and every night he got closer.

  I closed my eyes trying to focus on the safety of that thought. That assurance slipped away as I felt the air inside me spoiling and knew it could do me no more good.

  “Help me,” I cried, my voice distorted by the deep water and heard by no one.

  My eyes were closing in defeat when I saw him: Brent, swimming toward me, the white shirt from his uniform billowing slightly around him. He had come back.

  “Please don’t give up. Hang on,” he pleaded. I nodded clinging to life now that he was here to rescue me. He swam to my right side, trying to find where I was attached, until my eyes could no longer focus.

  Just as everything went black, there was a blinding light, so bright I shielded my eyes from its overwhelming beauty, and all of the sudden my lungs didn’t ache anymore, my sight returned, crisper than ever before. Some sort of miracle had happened and I knew I could hold on until Brent had freed me. I turned my head in sheer joy and amazement to look at Brent, just as I realized that something about this situation didn’t make sense.

  He had stopped fiddling with my dress in an attempt to untangle it, and he was now gaping at me, his eyes filled with horror. I was about to ask what was wrong when I saw it— the familiar darkness I had seen attack Brent on the first day and that attacked me only a week later as I walked back to my dorm.

  We had to get out of here. Whipping my head to the right, I saw the light that had nearly blinded me seconds before. They were both there, and they both were coming for me on opposite sides, the warm inviting light contrasting starkly with the oppressive, heavy darkness that felt thick like tar.

  The mist had changed; it was now more massive than before and infinitely more terrifying as its merciless edges moved toward me. I cowered back from the darkness, reaching for Brent, and threw my arms around his neck, clinging so tightly he winced.

  “You’ll be okay. Do you hear me?” Brent asked. I nodded weakly. “Hold tight,” Brent commanded. “Swim.”

  “I’m stuck,” I protested.

  He frowned as he shook his head sadly. “No, not anymore. Swim!”

  I was confused, but I decided to leave the details for later and just trust him. His arms were around me and with what little strength I had, I kicked, trying to help, wondering when I had become untangled.

  Brent did most of the work as we swam for the surface, leaving both the light and darkness below. We emerged and
Brent helped me out of the water, where I sat trembling on the ladder, staring straight ahead, rocking back and forth. The pool was now calm and the warring factions of dark and light had disappeared beneath the crystal surface.

  “That was so close,” I whispered, afraid to admit how near I had come to dying. Bile rose in my throat and I bent over, dry-heaving so violently that my spine cracked and neck popped. Finally, when I was no longer nauseated, I opened my eyes to find the world around me had changed.

  Everything was exquisite: the colors were richer, the edges were crisper, and yet every object also had a soft glow emanating from it. I wondered for a second if the mixture of chlorine and oxygen deprivation had messed with my vision.

  “Let’s not sit so close to the water. Okay?” Brent suggested soothingly, interrupting my reverie. Silently he cradled me in his arms and led me away from the edge to a chair in the corner of the room.

  That’s when the shock kicked in. Brent kept his arms firmly around me while trails of tears started down my cheeks. Sobs I couldn’t control escaped from my chest. I clung to him, squeezing my eyes shut, my pulse sprinted at world record speed. My heart seemed abnormally calm though; it should have been pounding from the adrenaline and exhaustion, but it was quiet.

  “Are you okay?” Brent whispered into my hair.

  I started to nod but then shook my head. “No. But give me a minute to sit and I will be, thanks to you.” I swallowed. “Brent, there’s something that I need to tell you. Ever since before I came to Pendrell, I’ve been having this reoccurring nightmare. I’m drowning, and there’s a man trying to save me. It was you,” I explained, as Brent sat there looking at me with the wrong expression. I didn’t understand why he looked so sad. Okay, so I was still in shock but after that wore off, I’d be fine. I gulped and a smile of appreciation spread across my face. “But tonight I didn’t drown,” I said. “You saved me.”