“Best of luck,” I say, moving away.
Cam steps in front of me. He tilts his head down to look me in the eye. “Hey. Can’t we be friends? It’s been, what, a year and a half since we broke up? Is your heart still shattered?”
I roll my eyes. “Please.”
He laughs. “Come here. I’ll make it all better.” He pulls me into a big bear hug.
“Hey!” I laugh in spite of myself as I fight him off.
“Hugs will heal the world,” he sings, lifting me up. He puts me down, and I shove him away playfully.
“Don’t be angry,” he says. “I can’t resist you. I’m madly in love with you.”
I snort. “Now you’re just mocking me.”
“I’m serious!”
He’s absolutely not serious. I give him a little salute and walk away. “Bye, Cam.”
“You shouldn’t run from your feelings,” he calls out. “Accept your undying passion for me. It will be easier for everyone.”
I shake my head even though I’m smiling. Cam can’t sleep well at night unless he believes every girl is in love with him.
“Shelby!” he calls.
I glance over my shoulder, and he points at me. “You’re going to audition for the fall play, right? Nothing’s changed there, I hope?”
A cold shudder slides through my stomach. I manage a smile and a nod, but I’m thrown. I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong.
I shiver and rub my arms, trying to get rid of the feeling. “A natural reaction to the treatment,” I say softly to myself. “Phantom limb sensation.” Pushing away my nerves, I weave through the crowd to find Grace.
She’s standing by Brad Corbin, laughing at what was probably a lame joke he made. When she spots me, she gives a little shriek and hides behind Brad with mock fear.
“Don’t let her kill me!”
“Relax,” I say. “I wouldn’t do it in front of all these people. Too many witnesses. I’ll wait until we’re driving home. Alone on an empty country road. That way I’ll also have a convenient place to stash your body.”
The smile drops from Grace’s lips. The color drains from her cheeks, but before I can say anything, Lila Thomas, a fellow senior in student government, runs up with an eager smile. I know what’s about to happen. She’s going to suggest a game of capture the flag in the empty school. Ah, tradition.
“Who’s up for capture the flag?” Lila asks brightly. “The whole school is the boundary?”
As I mentally fist-bump myself, the crowd responds with enthusiasm. Maybe because they all know that this game is a thinly veiled excuse for people to get a little action in the dark corners of the school grounds.
“Two teams,” Lila says. She motions with her hands to either side of the crowd. “This half is one team. This half is the other.”
Nick Parsons rips off his football jersey. “This is our flag!”
“And your shirt will be ours,” a junior in the back of the crowd shouts to Lila.
“In your dreams, Dameon.”
Cam suddenly appears beside me.
“You’re on the other team,” I say, irritated. “I don’t fraternize with the enemy.”
“I’ve defected to your side,” he says. “Better health care plan.”
“Seriously, Cam. Get out of here.”
Lila waves her arms to get the crowd’s attention. “Game over in one hour, okay? Everyone meet back here at midnight.”
The group starts to scatter into the shadows of the school grounds, laughing and shouting as they go.
Cam gives me a wink. “I’ll see you out there.” Before I can protest, he runs off.
I head in the opposite direction, to find Grace. She’s gone, doubtless well on her way to keeping up tradition with Brad Corbin. Rolling my eyes, I make for the courtyard. It’s an obvious place, and I’ll probably get caught, but it’s just as well. Better to sit in capture-the-flag prison than have my ex-boyfriend try to rekindle a long-dead relationship in the spirit of assuring his supreme hold on every girl in the theater program.
It’s darker than normal in the courtyard. The single street lamp offers only a flickering yellow glow and obnoxious buzzing sound. I sit down on the worn metal picnic table closest to the cherry tree. The trunk of the poor old thing has been carved to splinters. Every young couple, sure of their eternal love, has at some point scratched their initials into the wood. I brush my fingertips over one that says T.L. + S.V.
I’m sure if I think hard enough, I’d know who they are. You grow up in a place like this, and you get to know pretty much everyone.
The shuffle of footsteps on concrete snaps me to attention. A tall male outline emerges from the shadows on the left. My muscles tense, but it’s not Cam. He takes a hesitant step toward me. I squint into the darkness, trying to make out a face.
“If you’re on Nick’s team, you can call it,” I say. “No need to tag me. I’ll go to jail willingly.”
The guy moves into the faint light. I don’t recognize him. But then…
A hot charge cuts down my spine. I stand.
Those eyes. Dark and intense. Two thick slashes of eyebrows. Long, tousled hair that falls just past his ears.
It’s the boy I saw during the glitch. The “abnormality” in my memory.
He comes toward me, staring at me with an unreadable expression. His lips part. His voice is deep and trembles as he utters a single word.
“Shelby.”
Chapter 4
Everything around the boy blurs. My knees lock, but I feel as if I’m going to fall down. I stare at him, unsure if this is real.
Then Dr. Stevens’s voice comes to my mind. I need you to tell me if you have any unusual symptoms. Headaches, trouble concentrating, vivid dreams, or hallucinations…
Is this a hallucination brought on by the abnormality in my anxiety treatment?
But…he’s so real. So clear. His shoulders are moving with breath. His eyes scan my face. He looks a little stunned.
“You recognize me.”
He speaks a statement, not a question, and it strikes me in the chest. “What?”
He moves toward me. If this is a hallucination, then it’s incredibly long and realistic.
I’ve finally cracked.
I press my hand onto the table to balance myself. “Don’t come any closer,” I say, and the boy freezes. My hand shakes. “Who are you?”
He starts to answer but pauses. “That’s…hard to explain.”
A low-pitched, exaggerated ghost sound echoes through the courtyard, making us both jump. And then Cam Haler comes galloping in, a dumb grin on his face.
“Found you!” He crows. “I’ll be taking you to jail, little lady.”
A wave of irritation passes over me. “We’re on the same team, remember how you—”
As I’m speaking, I glance back toward the boy, only to discover that he’s vanished.
My stomach drops. He’s gone. Just like that. Just like…a hallucination.
“It was a trick,” Cam says, triumphantly. “I’m a double agent. I was working for the other side all along.” He gives an overwrought evil laugh.
I stare back at the empty place where the dark-eyed boy had been. Am I losing it?
Cam grabs my arm, pulling me back into the moment. “You should never have trusted me. It’s too hard to resist these baby blues and cherubic gold curls.”
My head is spinning. I don’t have a witty comeback.
“Shelby?” Cam’s brow furrows with concern.
Nausea overtakes me. I feel like I’m swimming in a heavy, hot wave. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
Cam leads me back to the bonfire to find help. One of the adult chaperones gives me a blanket and makes me sit down. Cam crouches in front of me, his playful grin long gone.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”<
br />
“I saw…”
He listens, expectantly, but I don’t know how to finish the statement without sounding crazy.
“That guy,” I say, edging around the topic.
“Who?”
The one in the courtyard who may or may not have been a manifestation of my mental breakdown. I squeeze the words down.
“Never mind. Would you find Grace for me, please? I need to get home.”
Cam nods with forced cheerfulness that masks his obvious discomfort. As he walks away, I bend my head down between my knees, trying with every ounce of strength to fight off the wave of anxiety that’s cresting in my body. I’ve never felt more desperate for someone to talk to about all of this, but I know there’s no one. No one who could begin to understand.
• • •
We’re home by midnight. The entire drive, I pressed my forehead against the cool window, but I didn’t see a single thing. Instead, thoughts echoed back and forth in my mind, like two emotions playing tennis.
Fear. A cold, dark terror that I’m losing hold of my own mind. But also a strange, tremulous excitement. Seeing that boy again. It has to mean something.
Yeah, it means you’re going crazy.
Back and forth. Back and forth. I can’t hold a thought long enough to know how I actually feel.
Grace pulls into my driveway and puts the car in park. “Okay. Are we going to talk about this?”
“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“I thought you went back for another treatment. Didn’t they fix these panic attacks?”
My throat tightens. “I thought so. I don’t know. Maybe the therapy is messing with my brain.”
“We need to tell your mom,” Grace says. She shifts in her seat, looking as squeamish as Cam had earlier. “She knows how to deal with these attacks better than me.”
“It’s not an anxiety attack, Grace.”
I want to tell her about my hallucination of the boy. But once again, something makes me hold back. Am I protecting him or simply too afraid to admit how screwed up I am?
“You’re not going crazy.” Grace clutches her key chain, keys still in the ignition even though the car is turned off. She’s going to leave as soon as she’s seen me safely inside. I can’t blame her for being uncomfortable. I suppose I would be too.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, lowering my gaze. “I think I’m getting sick or something.”
“You need sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I nod even though I know it’s not true. Grace puts her arm around my shoulder as she walks me in. Mama and Stepdad Part Two are watching their shows in their big armchairs. The house is dark except for the blue glow of the TV. The smell of meat lovers’ pizza lingers in the air. Mama isn’t much for cooking.
“You back already?” Mama asks without glancing up.
Grace takes a breath to tell her what happened, but I pull on her arm.
“Yep,” I say, angling us toward my room.
“We have some leftover pizza,” Blake says. “You girls are welcome to it.”
“No thanks,” I say. “I’m going to go to bed, I think.”
Mama looks up now. She doesn’t say anything, but she can tell something’s off. Like I said, the woman has a sixth sense.
I head for my room. Only then am I able to take a deep breath. The familiarity relaxes my pulse. I flop on my bed, landing on an Eeyore stuffed animal from the time we went to Disneyland when I was seven—our one and only family vacation.
Grace lingers at the door.
“Are you taking off?” I ask, trying not to feel the sting at her obvious desire to get out of here ASAP.
“I probably should. You need to sleep.”
I nod. Grace sets her hand on the doorknob and then glances back at me over her shoulder. “I’m here for you, Shelby. You know that, right?”
A lump hardens in my throat. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
She offers me a tight smile and slips out of my room. I flop back on my bed, staring up at my white ceiling. After a moment, I put my ear to the door. There’s a low rumble of voices. Grace is talking to Mama. Closing my eyes, I flatten my back to my door. I’ve never felt more alone.
A loud crack, like a bullet being fired, explodes through the room. I jump. Spinning around, I look for the source. It came from my window, I think…
I open the blinds, expecting to see a giant crack in the glass, but something even more unexpected waits for me outside. A small white square of folded paper sits on the brick ledge.
I look out to my darkened front yard. It and the street beyond are empty. Grace’s car is parked in the driveway, so I know she’s still talking with Mama.
I scan my yard again, squinting at every possible hiding place. But no one’s there. I stare back down at the windowsill. The paper is lined, clumsily torn from a school notebook. Whispers of black ink peek through from the other side.
It’s a note.
My heart skips at the thought. I know it wasn’t here this morning. I unlatch and pull open my window. The bottom half of my screen easily comes off with the twist of a few screws. My hand trembles as I reach for the note. I hesitate, then slide my fingers over the cool, dry paper.
I don’t read it immediately. First I put my screen back in place and close my window and blinds. Then, sitting on my bed, I set the note on my lap. Carefully, I unfold the small slip.
I’m sorry if I startled you tonight. But I need to talk to you.
Call me if you want answers. 555-8765
His face comes to me, like a hot iron pressed against my brain. The boy from the hallucination.
I drop the note as if it were on fire. My pulse throbs in my fingertips. The hastily scratched words seem to burn into the paper. My vision blurs and clears. I shake my head. It’s impossible. This can’t be a hallucination.
The note is real. Real words written in real ink on real paper. And that means the boy has to be real as well. He’s as real as I am. This assurance makes my heart beat faster. I bite my bottom lip as the warm, light feeling returns. I lift the note and trace the letters that form words.
A knock rattles my bedroom door. “Shelby?”
Mama. I almost choke on my own breath as I jolt into action. There’s just enough time to stuff the paper beneath my pillow and yank my comforter over me before Mama opens the door.
“You awake?” she whispers.
I don’t dare answer for fear she’ll hear my shortness of breath. Instead, I look over my shoulder, trying my best to seem groggy. Mama frowns and steps into my room. Beneath my pillow, my fingers tighten around the slip of paper.
“Gracie told me what happened tonight.”
I swallow hard and look away. “I’m fine.”
Mama sits on the edge of my bed with a sigh. “Oh, my Shelby girl.”
She rubs my leg gently. The tenderness of the gesture almost makes me cry. I want to open up to her. I want her to know how afraid I am. There’s a five-year-old girl inside of me who wants to crawl into Mama’s arms and be rocked to sleep, into a safe and uncomplicated dream.
“Gracie said you had a short panic attack. I don’t understand it.”
“I don’t either.” I’m glad I don’t have to meet her gaze as I speak the lie.
“What happened tonight?”
Maybe I should be honest with Mama. “I saw something that scared me, and—”
“Something that scared you?”
“Well…it’s hard to explain.”
Mama sighs again with an unmistakable note of exasperation. “I guess we need to take you back to Dr. Stevens yet again.” The mixture of weariness and anger in her voice comes like a slap across the face. “Gosh, Shelby, how is this so complicated for you? You’ve got one of the best doctors in the country working on you i
n a groundbreaking therapy. Hundreds of people are on a waiting list—people who would happily trade places with you—and you can’t seem to calm down enough to let the treatment work.”
I turn to her, stung by the coldness of her words. “Mama, I’m trying—”
“Are you though? Doesn’t seem like it to me.”
A hot current of anger seeps into my heart, evaporating any tenderness. “Maybe the therapy isn’t working anymore. Maybe it’s messing with my head.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“It is true, Mama. You need to listen to me.”
She stands, lifting her hands in frustration. “No. This is not the time to discuss this. You’re all mixed up right now. You need to sleep, get your head screwed back on. We can talk in the morning.”
Mama practically slams the door behind her as she leaves. Hot tears burn in my eyes. I glare at the ceiling, teeth clenched, breathing hard. I bring the note before my face. It’s wrinkled from my clammy palms, but the words are still there. Call me if you want answers.
I do want answers.
Before I can second-guess myself, I grab my phone and punch in the numbers. I smash my thumb over the call button.
Connecting…
A single buzz. The first ring. All at once, it hits me that I’m actually calling a complete stranger and someone who may not exist. I hang up and flop back on my pillow with an exasperated laugh. I really am losing it.
My phone lights up. The ring chimes loudly. 555-8765 is calling me back. I stare at the number, not breathing.
One ring. Then two. Three rings…
A pulse of pure adrenaline rushes through my body, down my arm, and into my fingertips. That’s the only way I can explain why I answer the phone.
Chapter 5
“Shelby?”
The voice on the phone sounds deeper than I remember from our earlier encounter. But maybe it’s because he’s talking quietly. Still, hearing him speak my name sends a strange shiver over my skin.
I don’t know what to say. I still can’t believe I answered. Am I allowing myself to fall farther down the rabbit hole?
“I know I’m probably freaking you out right now,” the stranger/hallucination boy says. “I’m sorry.”
Remember Me Always Page 3