by Ellis Logan
The next day passed quietly until lunch, when Rose and I sat with Rowan and his friends again. A fight had broken out between a few kids on the other side of the caf, so most of the short period was wasted with everyone watching the drama unfold. I’d barely eaten or spoken to Rowan at all, in fact, although I noticed that he and Cooper both managed to eat their whole meals without distraction. Watching them, we might as well have been at the movies considering how little it affected their appetite. Boys. Clearly, the old sayings about men and their stomachs were all true.
After lunch Rowan and I walked to our AP class. I was still sort of out of it, thinking about the excitement at lunch, and he steered me through the halls with his hand on my back. The warmth of his hand burned through my shirt, sending strange pulses up my spine.
“Everything good with you?” he asked.
“Huh, what?”
“You seem a little distracted.” I looked up at him, and saw that his eyes were dark with concern. My head was starting to pound, and I sort of wished that he would stop looking at me. I was feeling a bit warm, too hot, actually, and the heat from his hand was just too much. It seemed to be going straight to my head, lighting a fire under the pain that was just too much to bear. I tried to shrug his hand off, but it didn’t budge.
“Yeah, sure. I’m just starting to get a headache. Guess the excitement at lunch was too much for me.” I picked up the pace, grateful when his hand slipped off my back.
“Those guys were pretty loud. Stuff like that doesn’t happen too often here, hope it didn’t freak you out.”
I laughed, despite the building pressure in my head. “Yeah, right. As if. Back in Tucson we had fights like that almost every day. Same at my school before that. Both of them were majorly jock infested, way too much testosterone going on there. I was just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think Vermont had so much potential for excitement.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said suggestively. “I can think of plenty of exciting things we could do.”
If I hadn’t been feeling so crappy, I’m sure I would have been filled with butterflies at that comment. As it was, I just felt a little nauseous. “Mmm, I’ll keep that in mind.” I gave him a queasy smile and walked in through the open door to Adiletti’s class.
There was a desk right by the door and I took it, while Rowan slid into the seat behind me, giving me another concerned look. I turned to the front and tried to keep my eyes open as more waves of nausea poured over me. It felt like the floor under my feet was rumbling, like the whole classroom was at sea and I thought I might suddenly get sick, right here in class.
Oh no, I thought. Not again. Not here.
Again, I was back on the scene of a lovely city built on a hill. Bright stucco houses with rainbow colors for doors, simple tile roofs, narrow cobblestone streets built into steep hillsides. Vespas outside doorways, chickens and dogs roamed the streets quietly, the sun just starting to rise over the sea. Or was it an ocean? I couldn’t tell. It was quiet, early morning, and everyone was abed. I knew this place. I’d been here before. But when?
And then before I could think of what was happening, flocks of birds took to the skies in a raucous migration, all at once, and I remembered where I was. The rumbling. The swaying.
And then it began. The street lurched beneath my feet, sending me to my knees, and I closed my eyes. It’s just a dream, I thought. Just a dream. The whole world groaned as buildings broke under the strain of exertion and tumbled to the ground on every side. Everyone had been sleeping, but now they were awake. Babies were crying. Mothers and fathers moaned. Voices raised up and then went silent, while others sobbed and whispered. Dust choked the air, so I couldn’t breath and my head ached, and all around me the people were crying.
I crawled to the nearest pile of rubble and began clawing at the rocks, trying to reach some of the moans. Before they stopped. Before it all stopped. Before I stopped. I didn’t know if I could do this, if I could go on. How did people go on in disasters? How did they survive?
I’d always thought I was strong. But what good were my fighting skills against something like this? What good was anything? What could I, one girl, possibly do?
“So it begins.”
A man spoke behind me. His voice was cold, uncaring. Not upset at all. Not like me.
“Do something! Help me. Help them!” I yelled at him. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I hated him. I hated him being here with me, for being another person standing, for being another person who couldn’t really do anything. And I hated his voice, his detached voice. I turned away from him and kept digging.
“There is nothing to do here. It has begun.”
I screamed in rage as the stones I had dug out collapsed in upon themselves, and turned to yell at him again, but he was gone. Everything was gone. He was right. There was nothing I could do. I shut my eyes in horror and frustration, trying to gather my strength, trying to figure out a way to deal with this,
and when I opened them again I was lying on the floor, staring up at the flickering glare of Union’s brilliant fluorescent tube lighting. Rowan was kneeling next to me and Mr. Adiletti was staring in confusion over his shoulder, while a couple of girls snickered together nearby at their desks.
“Siri, are you okay?”
“Ms. Alvarsson, can you tell me how many fingers I am holding up?”
I blinked at them. “Um, yes, I think so. I don’t know, maybe. Two?” I answered them both. “What happened? Why am I on the floor?” My head was pounding in full force now, and I was pretty sure that if I sat up I might hurl. And I really, really, so did not want to do that.
“You fell. Are you sure you’re alright? Mr. Adiletti, I think I better take her to the nurse.”
“Certainly, Rowan, I think that would be best. Ms. Alvarsson, do you think you can walk?” The girls snickered some more behind him, and I resolved to get up. Screw them. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I wasn’t some weak invalid. I was woman. I could roar. And I could certainly damn well walk.
“Yes, I can walk.” I tried to get up and was overcome with nausea. I’m pretty sure I actually turned green. Rowan quickly scooped me up in his arms, grabbed my backpack and carried me out to the hallway. I looked over his shoulder and could see that the girls were no longer laughing, but instead were sighing with stars in their eyes. Yeah. Rowan was pretty swoon worthy. Too bad I was too out of it to really appreciate it. I mean, he was actually carrying me. Carrying me. Like some kickass hero out of the Princess Bride. Talk about swoon. I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.
“So, you going to tell me what happened back there?” Rowan asked. He sounded mad at me, which I couldn’t figure out.
“I don’t know. I had a headache, then I sort of started daydreaming and felt like the whole room was shaking, and then I just passed out.”
“The room was shaking?”
“Yeah, I told you. Maybe I’m anemic or something?”
“Maybe. Did you feel anything else? What were you daydreaming about?” The anger in his voice gave way to concern, just like my mom when I hurt myself doing something stupid and she couldn’t stay mad at me.
“I don’t know. It’s all kind of foggy. I just got nauseous and dizzy and wobbly. It happened over the weekend, too, I forgot. I must be getting sick.”
“You know, you said something while you were out. You fainted and fell on the floor, and before you came to you said ‘It has begun.’ Was that part of your dream?”
“What? I don’t know. I don’t remember. Can we stop with all the questions, my head is pounding.” I closed my eyes and breathed in his warm, citrusy musk. “God, you smell amazing.”
He chuckled. “I do, huh? Way to change the subject. But I’ll let it slide. This time.” His breath washed over my hair and I thought I felt the brush of his lips on my head before we entered the nurse’s office.
The school nurse was young and capable, and had me lying down in no time. After she sternly ordered Rowan back
to class, he squeezed my hand and told me he would check in on me later, all the time apologizing with his eyes for having to leave. I probably should have felt upset, but honestly I was just so tired and aching all over, I didn’t really care if I was alone or not. After he left, she assured me that a stomach bug was going around town and that once I was feeling more the thing I could go home and sleep it off. I thought that was a great idea. Maybe if I rested, the rest of my daydream would come back to me. Somehow, it seemed important, but whenever I tried to reach for the memory it felt like dust slipping through my fingers.