Shade and the Skinwalkers

by Marilyn Peake

  My mom wasn’t home. I dashed off to my room to see if I could still get into Central High’s forum as an administrator.

  I was so nervous, I flubbed my password a few times. Finally, I got in, went to the PM, and thanked my lucky stars I could see it. I still had administrative privileges!

  For a few seconds, I swear I stopped breathing. I should have figured out who’d sent that message as soon as I saw the username. Starry-eyed Girl. It was Annie! When I’d first met her, I’d thought of her as “stars-in-the-eyes” because of her strange contact lenses that placed a red star in both of her eyes.

  There were a number of private messages—some from Annie, some to her. She’d sent her first private message to a new administrator, name of Chloe Weaver, two days ago. The subject of that PM was Introduction.

  I read voraciously, trying to figure out where Annie was and why she’d decided to contact the forum and enlist help in finding Misty. When I last saw her, she wasn’t doing well. She didn’t even remember me, her best friend, never mind Misty the cheerleader, someone she’d never hung around with.

  Until Kai healed her. That was ... how many days ago? I had meant to call Annie; then so many things happened, I completely forgot. But it was longer than two days ago. Four, maybe? Could she be completely healed and back to normal already?

  I could hardly believe what I was reading. Annie told her entire story to Chloe. That took a lot of guts. She explained everything that had happened to her after she was abducted and forced into the sex slave organization. The gang rape. The pregnancy. The forced abortion. My eyes filled up with tears.

  In a distant part of my brain, I noted that I could cry now. I no longer cut my own skin to express emotional pain I couldn’t let out any other way.

  I went into my closet. I reached into the jacket pocket where I’d last placed my amulet for safekeeping. It was glowing again! I looked to see if there was a message written across the gemstone. Nothing. Just the beautiful blue light come to life for some unknown mysterious reason.

  I fastened the necklace around my neck and wrapped my hand around the pulsing blue gem as I read the rest of Annie’s message.

  After she described the horrible ordeal she’d been through, she talked about her mental state after she’d been rescued: sinking into the depths of depression, being put on psychiatric meds and undergoing electroshock treatment, forgetting friends and important events in her life, going catatonic. Then she talked about suddenly being healed—unexpectedly, miraculously—and being discharged from the hospital the next day. A few hours after she returned home, she decided to post an entry on the forum about Misty Perkins and to send a private message to an administrator about her own background story. She mentioned that she might never be completely free of the PTSD that still had her in its grip, but she thought helping others out of the same type of situation she’d been through might help. She said that she wanted to do everything in her power to find Misty Perkins. She asked for Chloe’s help in keeping the discussion alive in the forum. She was interested in receiving any and all information that students might provide about her whereabouts.

  Chloe seemed like a caring person. She expressed empathy and sadness over Annie’s suffering. She said: You can post whatever you’d like on the forum. May I share your private message with the other administrators? I’m sure they’ll all want to help.

  Annie gave her permission. Half an hour later, she published her post on the forum.

  OK, where was the PM to her from someone going by the username pipedream? I clicked on Annie’s Inbox. She had a ton of messages already. I scrolled down until I found the first one from pipedream. She introduced herself and revealed her identity: a freshman girl named Piper Carney. After that, she wrote:

  I work at the mall. The day Misty went missing, I saw her leave with a man who’d been hanging out almost every day for about a month near a stall that sells jewelry. He seemed to know the guys running the stall. I took a few pictures of him one day because he kept bothering some of the girls that stopped by to look at the jewelry and he looked creepy. I thought we might need to report him to the police. After he left the mall with Misty, I never saw him again. I’m really sorry for everything you’ve been through and I want to help. Would you like copies of the pictures I took?

  Annie thanked her. She said the photos could be really important in the search for Misty and she’d appreciate Piper sending her copies. She gave Piper her personal email address to forward them.

  Why hadn’t Annie contacted me? Why hadn’t she asked for my help? Why hadn’t she told me that she was out of the hospital and feeling better? Did she blame me for that Halloween night?

  I threw myself down on my mattress and stared at the ceiling. Sadness wrapped itself around my heart and seeped all the way down into my muscles and bones. Maybe I’d lost my best friend. I’d found Annie, only to lose her forever.

  The amulet had slipped over my shoulder and come to rest against the back of my neck. Suddenly, it grew hot. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! I sat up and pulled on the chain until the amulet fell against my shirt. Then I unfastened the clasp and threw the necklace on the bed.

  The amulet landed upside down. I found a pen and poked at it until I got it to flip over. I bent down real close to see if there was a message. There it was in black lettering: Get in touch with Gabriella.

  I spoke into the necklace: “Is that you, Brandon?”

  No answer.

  Then the words erased themselves and repeated once again: Get in touch with Gabriella.

  It probably was Brandon. I just said, “OK. That’s a really good idea.”

  It was a really good idea, actually.

  Then new words appeared: And contact Annie. Don’t waste time. Get in touch with her.

  I knew I needed to do that. I just said, “Sure.”

  I had to get over myself, stop feeling hurt. I needed to reach out to Annie. Who knew how she was feeling after everything she’d been through?

  My cell phone pinged. The text message was from Annie! She asked if we could talk. Heck yeah, we could talk!

  Two seconds later, Annie called. Everything felt surreal. She was better—much, much better. She was home from the hospital. And her mom thought she should spend the summer with me because she got so much better after seeing me at the hospital!

  I said, “Annie, that would be wonderful! We should visit each other before that, though. If you feel up to it, you could visit me—maybe over Thanksgiving or Winter Break or something.”

  Annie said she’d love that and she was sure her mom would approve. Then she added, “Things are better here now, Shade. My parents aren’t perfect, but things are better. They got shook up when I went missing. They’re really trying to help.”

  I told her I was glad to hear that. I asked her about school. Was she a senior or back in junior year, needing to complete that first?

  She said, “Junior year. It sucks, but I missed too much to skip it.”

  I said, “Well, it’s probably better to take it slow, anyway. There’s a lot of pressure in senior year, especially with college applications and all.” Then I added, “Annie, one of the ways we found you when you went missing was through a psychic named Gabriella. She lives near you. I’m far away now; but I’m setting up a forum at my new school, just like we did back at Central High, and planning to use it to find Misty Perkins. I’m determined to try my hardest to find her. I’m thinking I should also work with Gabriella again. Would you like to be a part of this?”

  She told me all about everything she was doing back at Central, how she’d posted to the forum about Misty and all. I breathed such a huge sigh of relief. She wasn’t keeping anything from me after all. I felt guilty about reading her private messages, but I was just trying to save Misty’s life. And I hadn’t known the message from Starry-eyed Girl was from Annie before I’d looked at it.

  I asked Annie if she’d get in touch with Gabriella. I explained to Annie how Gabriella worked and how she’d helped us
find her.

  Annie said, “I just got photos of a guy who’d been hanging out at the mall bugging girls and then left with Misty one day and never came back. I could have Gabriella look at them.”

  I agreed. “That would be great, Annie.” There was silence for a few seconds. Then I said, “Annie, we also used The Tiger’s Den to find you. People left quite a few leads for the police to follow up on. I’d like to coordinate information coming into the forums about Misty at both our schools. It turns out I still have administrative privileges at Central. No one thought to cancel them when I moved away. I plan to pop in over there every day, to check things out and compare it to information coming in over here.”

  Annie said, “Oh ... Sure. That makes sense. Yeah, do it.”

  I wanted to tell her that I’d seen her private messages, but I was afraid of how fragile she was the last time I saw her. I didn’t want her feeling paranoid. I’d told her I’d be secretly poking around The Tiger’s Den, so she knew I could see everything. She was OK with it. That was good enough.

  Annie interrupted my thoughts to ask, “So what’s the name of your forum?”

  I said, “Oh my word, Annie, it’s called The Flying Saucer. Everything here is UFOs. Actually, I wrote an article about that for our school paper. It’s about our local UFO craze. We’re publishing our newspaper online. You want to read the article?”

  She said, “Sure. That’d be great.” I told her I’d text her the link.

  Annie said, “Cool. Well, I should go ... But, Shade, we’re working together again. I’m so happy!”

  I said, “Me, too, Annie! I missed you so much!”

  She said, “Yeah, me, too. I’m glad to be back.”

  When we hung up, words formed across the amulet stone: Now, was that so hard?

  That had to be Brandon! It certainly was his style of sarcastic humor. I said, “No, that wasn’t too hard. It was certainly worth it. Do you have Angry Bird games where you are?”

  The answer that came back was: What? I’m confused.

  OK, maybe it wasn’t Brandon. Or he was just messing with me. I’d bet cold hard cash it was the latter.

  CHAPTER 12

  The day our newspaper was published turned into a roller-coaster ride. The paper used to have a bland name: Hidden Lakes Times. That didn’t even roll off the tip of your tongue—too many words ending in s. We renamed it; Principal Marquez and Ms. Bell approved it. The newspaper came rolling off the presses—or, actually went up online rather than rolling off any old-fashioned presses, Hurray, progress!—with a brand new name. Flying Saucer Times. HaHa. You thought the name would be something original, right? Um, no, not in this town.

  But, anyway, the kids mostly loved it. All day long, I overheard kids gossiping about stories in the paper. Especially the one I’d written for the front page. And it had my byline! Galactic Shade Griffin. Funny, I liked my name so much more as a byline than as the name of me as a person. It sounded quirky, something a writer or artist would take as their pen name. Nope, not a pen name. Just me.

  The front page contained two articles: one about the UFO Festival and a huge announcement about the new forum. I had titled the first article, which took up the whole top half of the page, The Day the Alien Circus Came to Town. There had been a lot of discussion about this in our group. Starshine wondered if the word circus was disrespectful to people who believed in aliens and flying saucers coming from outer space. In the end, we decided that the photos of people in costume totally enjoying themselves at the festival showed respect, but the eerie tent and Bobby Huffman’s death showed the darker side. As journalists, we had a right to point out the circus atmosphere surrounding all the events.

  The article announcing the forum had the title: The Flying Saucer Has Landed and It’s a Forum. Felix wrote and titled that article. We all liked it.

  All day long, the forum filled with Discussion topics and lengthy discussions. This was even better than at my old school. I guess with not much going on in town and not many kids owning game systems, this gave kids something to do, an inexpensive way to connect online.

  Ms. Bell sent an email to all of us with congratulations on the successful launch of our newspaper and forum, and she promised a surprise at the next meeting.

  Everything was great until Biology class. Then the roller coaster that had been continuously climbing up one steep exhilarating butterflies-in-the-stomach kind of hill went sailing over the top, plunging me into spine-tingling terror. From the moment he entered the classroom, Mr. Taylor seemed agitated.

  He placed books and file folders on his desk, then furtively searched the room with his beady eyes until he found me. Then he squinted, as though having difficulty seeing, but his eyes were filled with hatred and anger. A green glint swirled around his irises, just for a second, then disappeared.

  He pointed at me. “You! Galactic Shade Griffin! See me after class!”

  Wow. He’d used my full name. What was up with that? I’d gone by Shade in all my classes since making clear that was my preference in roll call after roll call.

  He then gave us a disturbing assignment. Well, disturbing to me. There were kids who loved it.

  He handed out the jars on his shelves, one to each of us, and told us to draw what we saw and, in the case of an organ, the animal it came from. He told us this was an important skill for any of us planning to go into the medical profession or become an undertaker. Geez, really, was there someone who actually wanted to become an undertaker?

  He strolled down the aisle where my desk was located with his arms wrapped around an enormous jar: one with an entire animal in it. A rattlesnake. Oh my God, a rattlesnake!

  A bazillion frightening thoughts raced around my brain, trying to be heard. Did the snake still have venom? Was there venom in that whitish-green water? If someone broke the jar and the liquid spilled out, would I die if it splashed on me? What if it landed on a cut? I wanted to inspect my hands, see if there were any cuts or dry skin.

  I didn’t have time. Mr. Taylor plunked the jar down on my desk. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, please don’t break! The water sloshed back and forth with a horrible sound. Ga-lunk...Ga-lunk...Ga-lunk-lunk! A sinister echo bounced off the glass walls. As the snake coiled and uncoiled its freakish body, its forked tongue whipped out of its mouth as though on purpose. A distinct rattle rose up out of the jar. The snake looked at me with beady black eyes and a split second later, those same eyes sparkled with neon green.

  I almost knocked the jar over.

  Mr. Taylor laughed. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I wouldn’t break that if I were you...” Then out loud, so the class could hear, he said, “Anyone assigned a jar with a whole animal in it, you’re to open your Biology book and find out what its insides look like. Then draw those insides—all the organs, everything.”

  Oh, ugh. I thought I’d puke. Not only did I have a revolting animal sitting on my desk in a soup of murky liquid and floating snake cells, I had to open up a book and pore through pictures of snake organs. Shoot me. Shoot me now.

  I got out my Biology notebook and my Biology textbook. I fished in my backpack for my colored pencils.

  I dragged the jar closer to me, so that I could draw the outside of the snake accurately. If I was going to do this assignment, I was going to do it my way. I’d pretend this snake was a comic book villain. I’d give him a terrifying face and a body getting ready to coil itself into a weapon. As I stared into its eyes, it stared back.

  I felt myself becoming hypnotized. The snake spoke words in my mind. One phrase only: Back off! Humans should not tread where only beasts should roam.

  I tried to assert my sanity in what felt like a momentary psychotic episode. I wasn’t having one of those, was I? My hands trembled. I pulled them away from the glass. I could not let that thing out. It was Satan, or something equally evil.

  I was losing my mind.

  I practically jumped out of my skin when the kid behind me tapped me on the shoulder. He said,
“Can I have a couple of your pencils? I don’t have any.”

  I turned around. He had the jar with the bear heart! It was beating again. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

  I whipped back around, grabbed a brown and red pencil and handed them over. I said, “Here. Just keep them. I have more.”

  Over the sounds of pencils scribbling and book pages turning, over the coughing and feet shuffles, I heard the snake hiss and the bear’s heart beat. Ssssss. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

  By the time the bell rang, I was covered in sweat. I started to lift the jar off my desk to return it, but it slipped out of my hands. My head got so dizzy, I felt like I’d blacked out for a second. I grabbed the lid and held on for dear life, steadying the jar.

  Mr. Taylor said, “Class, just leave the specimens on your desk. Finish your drawings at home.”

  A few kids moaned. Someone said, “Aw, geez...”

  Mr. Taylor said, “Your drawings are due tomorrow. Do a good job. I’m marking your grade down for inaccuracies.” Then he added, “Shade, stay after class.”

  I said, “But I have English Lit class next...”

  He said, “I knooow you have a class after this one. I’ve been teaching here since before you were born. I know how it works. Stay after class.”

  The noises in my head grew louder. Ssssss. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. What was wrong with me?

  Other animals joined in. A mountain lion screamed. I’d heard that cry since moving to New Mexico. It’s ghostly and haunting and makes you feel like something is terribly wrong. A lion growled. Something tiny squeaked.

  I covered my ears with my hands. The sounds intensified.

  Then, suddenly, it all stopped. Mr. Taylor was standing right in front of me. He said, “I don’t know how you did it.”

  My skin crawled. Something was broken in the world. Horribly, irreparably broken.

  I said, “What do you mean?”

  He glared at me. “You do know I erased pictures from your cell phone, do you not?”