When Lightning Strikes (Alien Academy Book 1)

by Pixie James

  Copyright © 2020 by Pixie James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Kasmit Covers

  Editing: The Novel Fixer

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Thunder cracks in the sky above, but no matter how strongly it tries to warn me away, I refuse to listen and run toward the mass of green clouds. My feet are heavy, caked in several inches of mud, but I can’t stop. I have to find somewhere I can breathe.

  Even with my eyes pinched tight, trying to fight off memories and the rain, the past few hours play over and over on a loop. No matter how I try to wrap my head around what Jared did, I just can’t understand.

  How could he betray me like this? Cheat on me and leave me for the girl who’s been torturing me since sixth grade? And in front of the whole school? He paraded her around like a trophy without so much as a word to explain why.

  He’d been the only steady thing in my life—the only person who’d ever really gotten me—and now…what does that leave me with?

  Nothing.

  Trish took away the last thing I had. The only thing tying me to this hell hole of a backwoods town.

  I could have dealt with Jared dumping me. It would have sucked, but I would have endured Trish’s gloating through the end of the year. If only he hadn’t sent that picture…

  The sharp sting of betrayal is nothing compared to how much I hate myself. I knew the second I caved and sent him that selfie last year, I shouldn’t have. It felt wrong. Even with a boy I’ve been with since the sixth grade, I knew it would come back to bite me.

  What I didn’t expect was for him to make me into a meme alongside a picture of his new girlfriend in the same color bra and panties to show everyone how much hotter she is.

  Hashtag upgrade, my ass. More like hashtag herpes.

  Digging in my toes, I push forward, trying to see through the rain pelting me. My eyes sting, and between the tears and the harshness of the wind, I’m half blind but I don’t care. I hate this place and every single person in it. There has to be more for me out there. A town where people don’t suck so freaking bad and waking up every day doesn’t feel like a life sentence.

  I just want to disappear.

  The sound of mid-morning traffic on the two lane road lining the woods is barely audible thanks to the storm, and the chances of me getting lost increase with every step. Small towns are their own kind of hell. Everyone in everyone else’s business, gossiping and bullying their way to get whatever they want.

  It’s like a form of entertainment here, and usually, I’m the butt of the joke. I might just be poor white trash, but at least I’m not like them. Miserable cows. You’d think they’d have something better to do than spend their days speculating about my weight or where my mom’s panhandling her way to her next fix.

  The tall pines groan and creak like warheads waiting to crash down from above, and my muscles scream for rest. Heart in my throat and temples pounding, I jam my hand into my pocket for the umpteenth time, silencing another call.

  It has to be my cousin. She’s the only person that ever talks to me. She’s one of the only two people in this world who give a crap about me, and I can’t face her. Not after this.

  My stomach roils, reminding me I haven’t eaten since yesterday and that I still haven’t heard from my mom. She’s taken off again, either with her friends or wandering the streets. It kills me to see her poison herself, even more to see the distance in her eyes when I do track her down and force her to come home. She doesn’t care about me. Only about her medicine.

  It might have taken me years, but now I call it like it is. She’s an addict, and I’ve given up on her changing for me. That’s something she can only do for herself.

  A gust of wind blows me back, and my soaked sweatshirt does nothing to guard against the cold. Just a little farther and I’ll be halfway to the next town. There should be an old deer blind or something I can hunker down in until the worst of the rain stops.

  Stumbling again, I jerk as a low limb slaps me in the face, something inside me breaks, and I fall to my knees. A loud wail escapes as I crumple to the ground and expel the years of misery and angst I’ve kept inside. How can one person be expected to handle so much? The ridicule, the isolation, and now this?

  Something hard stings the small of my back. Seconds later, I feel it again. Quarter-size hail starts pelting me, and my adrenaline kicks in. The old tornado siren perched on top of the library starts to blare in the distance as I drag myself up and take off toward a clearing not too far away. The thunder claps, louder this time, and after years of weathering storms in a two-bedroom trailer, I can tell it’s getting close. Too close.

  With no way around it, I slip into the clearing ahead, pumping my arms as hard as I can to make it to the other side, when the hair on the back of my neck suddenly stands on end. A bright light flashes and everything goes dark.

  Chapter Two

  I jerk awake to the feel of something crawling up my arm and cringe, swatting and swiping to get it off. Where am I? It’s dark, but there’s a full moon brightening the sky. I’m in some kind of hole? My arms tremble as I push myself up and look around. Why am I in the woods? And more importantly, why don’t I remember…?

  Charred grass stains my palms and covers the ground. I reach for my phone, but it’s completely fried, and there’s stuff peeling off of me.

  Oh, my gosh. Is that my skin?

  I grip my arms, then my legs, searching for pain, but there isn’t any. It makes no sense. Whatever this is—this gray stuff—is literally falling off in chunks. Instinctively, I reach for my hair and come back with one handful, then another, and by the time I stop, there’s nothing left. I’m completely bald.

  My lungs seize, and I can’t get a full breath. Everything blurs, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop hyperventilating. Images of the past twenty-four hours speed through my mind. The picture, the storm, the forest, running away, a bright flash of light and then nothing…

  Wait. Was I struck by lightning?

  Slipping in the damp earth as I climb out of the muddy depression, I run back towards the trailer. At least, the direction I think it’s in. I’m lightheaded and all turned around, but my feet are moving, and I’m not dead.

  As I break through the tree line, my elderly neighbor’s frantic voice is all I hear. Crap, Mrs. Henry has to be worried sick. She always checks in on me around eight before
she goes to bed since my mom’s never around. In ten years, I’ve never kept her waiting. She helps me out when she can; I owe it to her not to waste her time.

  Dressed in a pink quilted housecoat, she’s cursing into her cell, likely at our podunk police station, trying to get someone out to the house to help her look for me. With her bad hip and even worse eyesight, she wouldn’t make it far, but something tells me if they refuse to come out she’ll take her chances.

  “Cherise? Is that you, baby? Where the hell you been? It’s nearly midnight.” She drops the phone and limps toward me but stops about two feet away and lets out a strangled gasp. The cigarette between her lips tumbles to the ground. “Oh, sweet heavens, child. What’s that smell? What have you gotten yourself into?” She reaches out to touch my face, but stops and wraps her arms around herself. “Dang, these eyes, I can hardly see you. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t know, Momma H. I was upset, and I was going to run away, but I only made it halfway to Maypearl when…I think I got struck by lightning.”

  “You sure? Smells like you fell into a bonfire. You haven’t been out there drinkin’ with those Richardson boys, have you? Now, I done told you time and time again, they ain’t no good. It’s people like that who got your momma all mixed up in the first place. Stay away from them.”

  “Jonas Richardson is a loser, and his brother is a creep. I swear, I’m telling you the truth. I think I need to go to the hospital.”

  Momma H looks me over, squinting through her thick glasses in the dull orange glow of the porch light. “You sure it’s nothing we can’t handle here? I’ve got some rubbing alcohol and I just washed a load of towels.”

  Another thick chunk of charred skin sloughs off my arm, and my breath catches. “I think I need a doctor. Can we find my mom?”

  I hate the way my voice squeaks when I ask. I should be used to it, right? She’s never around, but I’m scared, and I just want to see her. Even if it’s only for a minute.

  “I’ll call Leroy over to take us, and I’ll see about having Jim track down your momma.”

  I pause, knowing she’s going to hate what I’m about to say. “Can you just call Vikki? If anyone knows where she’s at—”

  Momma H spits on the ground. “No way in tarnation I’m calling that gossiping floozy. Jim will find your momma. Now, stop worrying about her and think about yourself. Come on, help me back to my place so we can get you a towel to warm up while we wait for him to come get us.”

  Momma H called ahead. The nurse on shift is her friend, and when we pull up, we’re greeted at the door by an older woman with graying hair and bright green scrubs about three sizes too small. Her brown eyes widen, and the smoke lines around her mouth pucker as soon as she sees me.

  “Damn, Barb. You weren’t kidding. Get her into room eight, stat. It’s just me and the doc tonight, so I’ll have to track him down.”

  For the first time since all this happened, I look down at my hands to see vaguely purple skin peeking through the burnt flesh that’s bubbled and sloughed off.

  “Oh—” I look up at Momma H, too hysterical to process what’s happening. “I think I’m dying!”

  Steady as a steel, she gently tugs me to her side and guides me into the room, limping with each step. I swear little old Southern ladies are a breed of their own. “Ain’t no use in panicking, baby. We’re here. Let’s just see what the doctor has to say.”

  The nurse follows behind us with an armful of stuff she dumps on the bed, then grabs a vital sign machine. “How’d this happen again?” she asks, grimacing as she looks me over for a place to put the blood pressure cuff.

  “It was raining, and I was running through the woods. I saw a bright flash, then woke up in the dirt like this…” I hold out my arms, and the nurse steps back as another chunk of skin falls to the floor. I whimper and start to cry when Momma H grabs my hand.

  “She said she ain’t in no pain, Sheila. Can’t be that bad.”

  Nurse Sheila stops dead in her tracks. “No pain? Have you seen her body, Barb? Well, of course, you haven’t. You’re blind as a bat. Let me tell ya, she looks like fried chicken that’s been out in the sun for a week. I’m paging Alan again. See if you can get her in the shower to wash some of the dirt off. Can’t see anything under all that mess.”

  The nurse opens a white package and tosses me what looks like a square sponge with rough stuff on both sides. What is that thing? Some sort of loofah?

  Once we’re in the closet-sized bathroom, I peel off what’s left of my clothes, and Momma H turns on the water. “Okay, now I know you said this doesn’t hurt, so do what you can. But don’t try to be a hero. Call out if you need help, and I’ll send for Sheila. I’m going to go check in with Jim and see if he found your momma.”

  I sniffle and step under the spray while she slips outside the door, leaving it open only a crack. I can hear her dialing Jim, and I stick my head further under the water. Last time they found my mother, she was passed out in an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of town, half-dressed and incoherent.

  My skin tingles as the water runs over me, and it itches something fierce when I start to scrub. It feels amazing. Like an ant bite you’ve waited to scratch. With my eyes rolled back in my head, I scrub my arms, legs, and face.

  It’s super gross, but I do my best to ignore the wet sound of my skin hitting the shower floor. There’s so much of it. But as far as I can tell, what’s underneath is smooth and doesn’t hurt, so maybe it’s just the outer layer?

  I really wish I would have paid more attention in science class.

  The auto-light switch turns off by the time I’ve scratched my fill, and the sound of Momma H yelling into the phone drifts through the tiny crack in the door. When I go to step out, the bathroom light flickers in and out for a second before I’m surrounded by darkness again. Great. Now I get to feel along this ancient wall to manually turn it on.

  Trying not to slip on the tile, I follow the wall around, flip the switch, and freeze.

  Holy. Balls.

  I’m iridescent. Light purple, even. And my face…what happened to my face? I’m not even me. My frizzy blond hair and bushy eyebrows are gone, and in their place is…

  I run my fingers over the prominent ridge of my brow. It’s weird, and makes my violet eyes look farther apart. My eyebrows aren’t bad though, dark blue and perfectly sculpted. They almost make up for the fact I’m now completely bald.

  Almost.

  I kept some of my curves but I look healthier and more toned. It’s like I shed my skin and turned into something else entirely. My nails are short and blue, no longer the flesh color they were before. What the hell happened to me?

  The initial shock of my appearance quickly wears off, and fear barges in. I stumble out of the bathroom, towel clutched tightly around my chest, and reach for Momma H. She’s still on the phone, but once she turns around, even her crappy eyesight doesn’t keep the shock from spreading across her face.

  “Jim, I’ve got to call you back.” She hangs up and squints, getting so close to me, I can feel her breath on my face. “Dear heavens, child. I’ve never seen anything like this. You look like you’ve got the plague.” She pats my shoulder and gives me a hug. “We’re going to fix this, okay? Whatever it is. The Taggart boy will tell us what to do. Just stay right here, okay? Don’t move an inch.” She backs up slowly, then pops her head out the door and yells down the hall for the nurse. Momma H is many things, but patient isn’t one of them. There’s an edge of fear in her voice I’ve never heard.

  “Barbara, I’m sure everything is all right, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” the doctor hollers from down the hall.

  “Don’t you dare speak to me like that, Alan Taggart. I know your momma.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Henry. I apologize, but whatever it is, I’m sure we can get her all patched up.” Their voices are muffled at first, then become clearer as they make their way toward the room. “…been a physician for fifty odd years and your fri
end for longer. I have no doubt I possess the knowledge capable to handle anything thrown at me. Now if you will just relax—” His words cut off as Momma H and Nurse Sheila drag him through the door by his arm and plant him in front of me. “Oh, dear.”

  Chapter Three

  “I keep trying to convince myself it’s a trick of the light, but baby, I swear the longer I stare at you, the more purple you get.” Momma H’s head slips off her hand as she tries to stay awake. She’s been nodding off for the last few hours while we’ve sat in the same tiny room, waiting. Poor thing. It has to be close to 4:00 a.m., and she goes to bed before the sun even sets.

  “Have you heard from Jimmy yet? Did they find her?”

  Momma H sighs and wipes at her eyes. “No news yet, but he’s checking all her normal spots. If she’s in town, we’ll find her.”

  They drew my blood over three hours ago, and I have multiple bruises and Band-Aids to prove it. Apparently whatever happened in the lightning strike changed the physiology of my veins—they aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Or at least that’s what the little nursing student they let treat me like a pin cushion said. I guess they don’t get much action out here in Nothingsville, so it’s basically my civic duty to let her gawk at me and poke me full of holes.

  “Oh, thanks,” I say as a nervous looking patient care tech comes in to hand us each a water. Momma H smiles but politely turns hers away. “Don’t drink the stuff. Never have. I’ll stick with my Dr. Pepper.”