The Space Between Heartbeats

by Melissa Pearl

  The chirping of a bird makes me jump. I spin around to see where the noise is coming from and a stabbing pain shoots through my head. I clutch my temples, and my knees buckle. I drop to the linoleum floor and squeeze my eyes shut. The searing agony is overwhelming. And why the hell is there a bird inside my head?

  “Help me,” I whimper, but no one is around to hear my cry.

  My breath catches in my chest. The corridor is spinning. I fall onto my side and fight a wave of nausea. And then the ceiling rushes toward me. My lungs fill with a scream before everything goes black.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WEDNESDAY, 9:03 AM

  When I next open my eyes, birds are soaring through the air, chirping loudly. They swoop and dive, screeching and chittering at each other. Large trees loom above me, the scent of pine thick and intense. Broad, rough trunks punctuate the forest floor, and a squirrel scurries past in the undergrowth. Sunlight wrestles its way through the green pine needles and I squint against the glare.

  A rock is digging into my lower back, and I realize with a jolt that I’m lying on the ground in a wooded area, my arms stinging from nicks and scratches. I grimace, my fuzzy head trying to orientate itself.

  Last I remember, I was in the hallway and . . . Sourness hits my tongue. Trent. Instantly, tears line my lashes. I shake my head to ward them off and a sharp twinge ricochets down my neck. I gasp, my lips quivering as pain racks my body. My head pounds like someone has taken a hammer to it, and my leg feels like it’s on fire.

  With slow movements, I reach up to the back of my head and gingerly investigate. There’s a large lump. And it’s wet. When I pull my hand away, my fingertips are red.

  Blood.

  I jerk at the discovery and then scream, the full force of my injuries coming into sharp relief as my sudden movement sends a frenzy of pain coursing through my system. The left side of my body feels as though it’s been pounded and kicked to a pulp. My left elbow is swollen and throbbing. I try to move it, but the pain is excruciating.

  Panic punches through me, cutting off my air supply and making me dizzy. My brain fights for control, urging my emotions to settle.

  “Just stop.” The words wisp out through my parched lips as I try to bring my breathing back to a normal rate.

  “Now think.” I can hear my father’s voice in my head. Whenever I got angry as a kid, he would say, “Stop. Breathe. Think. Now what’s the best way to handle this?” It’s surprising how comforting the memory is, and finally, slowly, I come back to myself.

  A sour, vile tang hits my nose. My stomach muscles seize and I fight a wave of nausea, sucking in a slow breath, but that only makes the smell worse. The stench near my head finally registers—vomit.

  Suddenly, the rest of my morning feels like a bad dream. This—this pain, this confusion—is reality. Terrifying, mind-numbing, hysteria-inducing reality.

  “Think,” I say aloud, and then I see it: an image of me tumbling down an embankment—darkness, the crunching of branches, the thwack of my body hitting the tree stump. I must have fallen after Matt’s party. I’d been drinking . . . oh, shit, how much had I had? I carefully turn my head to look up the steep slope, but can see only tree trunk after tree trunk surrounded by brown, lifeless earth. My bag lies next to me, ripped and battered.

  This doesn’t look like Matt’s backyard, so something must have happened after I left. I must have fallen down an embankment on my way home, and no one was there to help me.

  But what was I doing walking home by myself?

  Hopelessness threatens to engulf me, but I fight to push away the panic.

  “No . . . Stop . . . Breathe . . . Think.” I can hear the desperation in my voice, and in spite of myself, the tears come, sobs racking my battered body.

  “Help.” I try to scream, but the word barely makes it past my cracked lips.

  I try again, louder, and pretty soon I’m screaming the word over and over. I cry out until my voice is hoarse and the birds have gone quiet.

  But still no one comes.

  Maybe I can drag myself up the hill and see if there are any houses or stores nearby, anything. I twist, ready to execute my plan, when a pain fiercer than anything I’ve ever experienced flares up from my knee. It is so intense, stars scatter across my vision. The forest around me starts to shift and swirl, engulfed by a thick, black fog that eclipses my senses. It kills the light and the air, sucking me into a black abyss. I squeeze my eyes shut and when I open them again, I’m lying on my bed, just like I was this morning.

  I jerk up, pain free. I’m dressed just as I was before. My bag is sitting beside me and I’m having a major case of déjà vu.

  My mom’s voice echoes from downstairs. “Yes, hi. It’s Mrs. Tepper here, Nicole’s mother.”

  Well, at least I know I’m not having the same dream; this morning she was calling my name, but now it sounds like she’s on the phone. I lurch off the bed, snatch my bag, and stumble down the stairs. My gaze brushes over the pine tree in the backyard, but I dip my head and look away. I already have enough to worry about.

  I make a beeline for the kitchen, following my mother’s voice.

  “Mom. Thank God.” I toss my bag onto the island, terror clogging my throat.

  Mom looks down at her black pumps as she circles the counter, nodding her head, phone pressed to her ear. “Yes, but has she come into school today?”

  “Mom.” I jump in her path and wave my arms, but she stares straight through me, her lips dipping with a tight frown.

  “No?” she asks, still not acknowledging me. “Okay, thank you.”

  My chest restricts, a tight knot growing behind my rib cage. If she can’t see me . . .

  I go to grip the edge of the island, trying to keep myself upright, but my fingers pass straight through the marble. I jerk back with an appalled gasp, staggering away and nearly banging straight into my pacing mother. And that’s when I realize, with horrifying certainty, what I am, why my hand went straight through Trent, why everyone has been ignoring me, why I woke up in the forest and at home.

  “I’m a ghost,” I whisper, my eyes rounding. I grow light-headed from fear, terror racing through me and threatening to pull me to the floor. But if I am a ghost . . .

  Am I dead?

  “No, I went back to my body,” I reassure myself. “I was still moving. I’m alive.”

  I fight to remain in control. This can’t be happening. How is this even possible?

  Stop. Breathe. Think.

  My mind clicks through possibilities as I try to make sense of the impossible. Maybe this morning wasn’t a dream after all. And maybe this isn’t, either. Maybe I’m caught in between—half dead, half alive.

  But if I’m half dead . . . how long do I have until I pass the point of no return? Judging by the state of my body, not long if I don’t find help.

  “Mom!” I wave my arms more frantically, but she stares at the pantry door like there’s nothing blocking her view.

  “Yes, I understand, but can you please contact me if anyone sees her?”

  Her brows knit in worry. It’s the first time I’ve seen her worried about me in a long time.

  “Thank you.” Mom hangs up the phone and fidgets with her earring. Her large blue eyes are glassy as she gazes at her phone.

  “Mom.” I stand right next to her. “It’s me. I need you to hear me.”

  I reach for the phone and my fingers pass straight through it.

  Dammit. Fresh tears blur my vision.

  “Mom, please.” My voice quivers. You would think that the people who love me most should be able to sense my presence, like some cosmic, supernatural connection. But my mom just walks to the coffee maker and pours herself another cup. The phone rings again and she unlocks the screen and presses SPEAKER, continuing to move around the kitchen.

  “Hey, where are you right now?” A deep
, familiar voice pops into the room.

  “Dad! Can you hear me?” I know it’s pointless, but I yell it anyway.

  Mom grabs a bunch of wilting tulips from the island and throws them in the trash. “I came home,” she calls over her shoulder.

  “I thought you didn’t have a moment to spare today?” I don’t miss the slightly accusing slant to his words.

  “I don’t, thanks to Jackie. Man, that woman is a pain.”

  Dad chuckles. “Why are you home then?”

  “I just wanted to see if Nicky was here,” Mom says, rinsing out the vase. “I thought maybe she was playing hooky again and just waiting until I left before surfacing.”

  I had no idea Mom knew I skipped. Why has she never said anything?

  “Look, honey, I know you’re worried, but I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “She’s not fine, Mitchell.” She taps her fingers on the counter. “Yes, she gets home at all hours. Yes, she probably gets in trouble with her friends. And yes, she’s dating some loser. But she always comes home. She’s always here in the morning.”

  Dad clears his throat. “Trudy, she’s stayed out all night before.”

  Her nails keep tap-tap-tapping, the sharp sound driving into me. “Not on a school night.”

  “Have you called her?” Dad’s voice is deeper than usual, wearier.

  “I’ve texted and called. It just goes to voicemail.” Mom flicks her hand in the air, the large solitaire on her left hand catching the light. “There’s no point leaving a message, she never calls me back anyway.”

  I lower my eyes, guilty.

  “I’m sure she’ll check in eventually. I don’t think we should worry yet.”

  “No, Dad, seriously start worrying, like right now,” I call across the room.

  “But what if she finally did it?” Mom’s voice quakes, her knuckles press into the hard counter, her hand trembling as if she has no control over it.

  Confusion roars through me.

  “I don’t. . .” Dad sighs. “I don’t want to think that way.”

  Mom’s eyes fill with tears, her lips wobbling as she covers her mouth and sniffs. She looks ready to fall apart.

  “Mom?” I reach out to touch her, but pull back before my fingers sail right through her arm. “What do you think I did?”

  “Let’s explore all the options first, okay?” Dad’s deep tenor is calm and reassuring. “I’ll give the school a call.”

  “I already have,” Mom snaps.

  “And?”

  Her blonde curls bounce as she shakes her head. “They don’t think she’s come in.”

  “Well, it might be worth going down there. Maybe her friends will be able to tell us something. If she’s run away, one of them will definitely know.”

  The words hit me like a wrecking ball.

  “Run away? Wait a sec, you think I’ve run away?” Concentrating hard, I put my hand on her shoulder, praying she’ll feel me, but nothing registers. She doesn’t even blink. “Mom, I haven’t run away. I’m right here and I need you guys to find me.”

  Mom sighs. “I’ll talk to Amber and Penny.”

  “Try not to worry. She’ll turn up.” There’s a tremor in Dad’s voice. His confidence is waning.

  “Yeah, I just—” Mom’s phone beeps. She glances at the screen and grumbles. “Dammit. That’s Jackie again. I better go.”

  “Let me know what her friends say. If no one’s heard from her, we’ll have to talk about what to do next.”

  “Yeah, okay. Bye.” She holds her breath before taking it off speaker and pasting on a smile.

  “Jac-kie.” Her voice is bright and breezy as she grabs her handbag and walks out of the kitchen, back toward her car.

  I follow her and make it out the door before she closes it on me. As soon as she opens the driver’s door, I scramble inside, wondering what I can do to make her hear me. I try whacking the dashboard and honking the horn, but it’s a waste of time—my fingers just swipe through them, no more substantial than air.

  The phone call lasts until we reach Big Bear Boulevard. After hanging up, Mom continues cruising toward the school, her fingers drumming, her mind a million miles away. She’s just slowing the car to turn onto Maple Lane when her phone starts ringing again. She looks at the screen and sighs before answering in her fake cheerful voice.

  “Hello, Gordan . . . Uh-huh.” Her smile falters as she listens, but her bright tone hides it well. “Sure, I’m free right now. I can meet you in ten minutes.” Mom flicks on the left blinker and makes a U-turn.

  “No,” I cry. “Go to school. Mom, find out where I was last night!”

  She brakes to let a couple of cars pass and I make a hasty decision.

  “Fine. If you’re not gonna go, I will.”

  I try to jump out the open window, but end up falling through the car door. I can’t feel anything as I land in a heap on the road—no thump, no bump, no pressure. My brain is telling me to register things that aren’t there, warning me that my body should feel bruised and shredded, but it doesn’t. The dichotomy makes my head pound, confusion warping my senses.

  Mom pulls away and I wipe invisible dirt off my clothing. I collect my bag, and for the first time I think about how strange it is that it appears with me, even though I’m not really here. It must be because the bag is with my body, in one of the many forests that surrounds Big Bear. I sling it over my shoulder and turn toward school. I need to find out what happened to me last night. I don’t want to die completely clueless.

  I don’t want to die at all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WEDNESDAY, 10:23 AM

  Once I make it to school, I rush toward the dance studio, where I’d be if this was a normal school day. The door is closed and I hesitate, remembering the disorienting sensation of falling through the car door. Before I can figure out a solution to my dilemma, the door bursts open and a stream of girls blasts through me, as if I’m no more than a cloud of smoke.

  Casey Morgan shivers and wraps her pink cardigan closer to her chest. “Did you feel that?” she asks Grace Chan.

  But I don’t hear Grace’s response because walking toward me now are Amber, Penny, and Lauren. My eyes narrow as I remember Trent resting his hand on her hip and pressing his mouth against hers. Traitor.

  When Amber reaches me, I grab for her arm out of instinct, but my fingers swipe straight through her flesh. She has no reaction, too busy giggling with Lauren over her make-out session at study group. I trail behind them down the hall, feeling dejected and desperate.

  “I couldn’t help it,” Amber says with a sly grin. “He’s hot.”

  Lauren flips her blonde locks off her shoulder. “He’s not that hot. You were just too drunk to notice.”

  Amber’s face indignantly flushes pink. “I was not! I barely drank last night, I was driving.”

  “You were a little drunk,” Penny murmurs, pulling her phone from her bag.

  Which is a polite way of saying she was probably way too drunk to drive home safely.

  “Okay, fine, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a good kisser,” Amber says.

  “So you gonna start dating him?” Lauren nudges Amber with her shoulder and arches her eyebrow.

  “Maybe.” Amber shrugs.

  Penny grins and threads her arm through Amber’s.

  “Either way,” Lauren says, “you better make sure Nicole keeps her hooks out of him.”

  I bristle. That’s rich, coming from Lauren, who had her hooks in my boyfriend less than two hours ago.

  Amber rolls her eyes. “Did you see her prancing around last night in her new outfit? She’s such a little thief.” Her voice drips with disdain as they all take a right, heading for the library for our free period.

  Well, she’s certainly changed her tune. It stings, though, to hear her talk about me
that way. I expect it from Lauren, and I have no illusions about who Amber is, but I guess I’d naively hoped she saved her venom for others. For people who weren’t her so-called best friend.

  Penny squeezes Amber’s arm to her side. “Whoa, you guys, check this out. I just got a text from Milly.”

  The two other girls give her blank stares.

  “You know, the chubby girl who helps in the office.” Penny frowns. “Do you ever listen to anything I tell you?” She holds the phone up to her face with a huff.

  I move behind my friends in order to avoid an onslaught of human traffic as we weave through the narrow corridor.

  “Listen to this . . .” Penny slows to a stop once we reach the bank of lockers just outside the library. The fluorescent lights flicker and buzz, and a cluster of freshmen girls push past, one of their backpacks knocking into Penny’s arm. She shoots them an annoyed look, then reads aloud from her phone. “Just overheard convo. Nicole not at school. Mom thinks she’s AWOL.”

  The girls gasp and my chest tightens with hope. Now they can start piecing it together and come find me. Amber may be mad over something I’ve supposedly done, but she has to care that I’ve gone missing.

  Lauren shakes her head. “No way. She’s cutting again.”

  “Yeah, I mean, she didn’t call this morning,” Amber adds, her upper lip curling.

  Penny glances up from her phone. “Did you call her?”

  “I tried.” Amber’s voice goes high and she scuffs her heel on the floor.

  “Liar.” Lauren giggles. “You’re still mad she rejected your ride home last night.”

  Wait. I did what?

  Amber throws her arms up. “Hey, I had to discuss a very important kissing scenario and she wasn’t there for me. She was too busy nursing her nine-thousandth beer by the fire.”

  “Guys!” I shout, unheard. “Can one of you start to worry, please?” I think of my body lying on the forest floor, my throbbing elbow, my pounding head, the blood. I’ve already been out there for hours, and no one even knows I’m missing yet.