Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3

by Karen McQuestion

  “Whatever you decide is fine. We’ll still be friends either way.”

  She raised her eyebrows and turned to him. “Really? Because that hasn’t been my experience. Usually if a guy says he has feelings for a girl and she doesn’t feel the same, they can’t be friends. He’ll always be secretly hoping she changes her mind and then he’ll be pissy if she goes out with someone else, but he won’t say anything, he’ll just cut the other guy down and try to sabotage the relationship.”

  “I wouldn’t be like that.”

  She tapped on the steering wheel. “Good night, Russ.”

  “I’m not sure why you’re pissed,” he said. “You’re the one who kissed me at the theater.”

  “Well you gave me that look,” she said, flustered. “And the movie got me kind of choked up with emotion. Let’s just say, I got caught up in the moment. The kiss was a reflex. That doesn’t mean we’re going out now.”

  “Okay. Let’s just go back to the way things were then. I promise I won’t get pissy.” He extended a hand. “Friends?”

  Mallory gave him a reluctant smile. “Okay. Friends.”

  They shook hands and then Russ clasped her hand in both of his. “You know I’m always here for you, Mallory.”

  She shook her head and laughed, and I felt a sudden hatred for her, my one friend in the whole world. Mallory was effortlessly beautiful, smart, and confident. Her skin was naturally the color of a great tan; her dark eyes were fringed with unbelievably long lashes. Mallory’s parents doted on her, other kids our age flocked to her, everything was easy for her, but I’d never resented her for that. She couldn’t help being who she was anymore than I could help being me. Fate had played a bad trick on me—that wasn’t her fault. But now, she had gone out to a movie with Russ, knowing he and I had gotten closer, and kissed him, something I’d only dreamed of doing, and then rejected him afterward as if it were a game. And here he was, practically drooling over her, saying they could just be friends when it was obvious he was completely crazy in love with her. I felt sick.

  “Honest, I’d do anything for you,” Russ said, his expression full of eagerness and yearning.

  “I know, Russ. I appreciate it.”

  “So—tomorrow night at Mr. Specter’s house? You can make it?”

  “I’ll be there. Jameson will too. Do you know what this meeting is all about?”

  “We’ll find out when we get there, I guess,” Russ said.

  Mallory said, “Does Nadia know about this thing at Specter’s?”

  “Not yet. I doubt she can go but we should still include her. If she doesn’t astral project to me tonight, I could email her.”

  “No, don’t do that.” Mallory looked alarmed. “Sometimes her mother reads her email.”

  “Really? Wow, that’s even worse than I thought,” Russ said. “She has no privacy at all.”

  “I can tell her if you want. I’ll stop by her house, or call her on her parents’ phone.”

  “I don’t know how she gets by without a cell phone.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know either. I’d die if it was me,” Mallory said. “Her mother is so mean. Poor Nadia. The things she has to put up with. That woman is a complete bitch. It’s like it’s her full time job to make Nadia’s life hell.”

  “Poor Nadia,” Russ said in agreement.

  I didn’t like them talking about me and my mother. I complained about my mom all the time, but that was for me to do, not them.

  “And how can you stand for her to project to you every night?” Mallory continued. “Doesn’t it creep you out?” She reached up and pulled the elastic off her ponytail, then shook her hair out. Even with the crimp from the elastic, it fell beautifully around her shoulders, a dark frame for her bright eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and perfect skin. She ran a hand over her head to smooth it out and then tucked a strand behind her ear. It all looked effortless, but her movements had a flirty quality.

  Russ said. “No, I don’t mind. The poor kid doesn’t have much and I know this is important to her.” He reached over and stroked her hair hesitantly, like he was afraid she’d pull away but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to touch her.

  “Good night, Russ,” Mallory said, laughing, but her words had a finality about them this time.

  Russ grinned. “Good night, Mallory. See you tomorrow night.”

  When he left the car, Mallory waited until he went into the house before pulling away from the curb. I wished myself into Russ’s bedroom and waited for him to come up the stairs. Inwardly I was seething. They’d been talking about me like I was the loser friend, the one you only hang out with because you feel sorry for them. I wasn’t a Mallory, I knew that, but I wasn’t nothing either. I’d thought I was important to Russ. It hurt to find out that what I thought of as a personal connection was just him being nice.

  Astral projecting to Russ and getting inside his heart and mind had been such an intimate experience for me that I thought of it as spiritual sex. Not that I’d had the real thing yet, so I couldn’t say for sure, but the emotional connection of the two of us together, nothing between us, everything exposed, was a lot like I imagined sex to be. Better in some ways, because there was no room for pretense. At least not for me.

  The night before he’d said I was beautiful and it felt like he meant it, but it was clearly a lie. And an obvious one. No one looking like me would have believed a guy thought they were beautiful, but I had desperately wanted to believe it. Pathetic.

  I’d intended to ask him about the evening—how did they wind up going to a movie together—was it his idea or hers? What movie did they see? Did he think it was a date at the start? I wondered if he’d tell me the truth. I had all of these questions in mind, but when he came into the room I didn’t have the guts to show myself. He was whistling, for one thing, which was unlike him. Unlike anyone our age, actually. He was whistling some tune I didn’t recognize and he looked really pleased with himself. I suddenly felt guilty for lurking in the shadows and spying on him. And so I left, silently and quickly. And that night, I lay miserably in bed, thinking I could astral project anywhere I wanted to, but for the moment there was nowhere I really wanted to go.

  The next day, Mallory called me on my parents’ landline. “Happy Easter!” she said. I walked into the next room to get out of my mom’s hearing range. Normally she’d follow me just to make a point, but this time she let it go because she approved of Mallory.

  In the background, behind Mallory’s voice, I heard a lot of commotion—what sounded like a roomful of people talking and laughing. Visiting relatives, she explained. And then she said, “Is this a secure line?” When I said yes, she said, “Here’s the thing—our science teacher, Mr. Specter, is having a meeting on Tuesday night at midnight at his house. He wants all of us there. Are you in?”

  “Of course.”

  “Really?” Mallory said, sounding surprised. “I don’t want you to get into any trouble…”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Okay, well I can give you directions—”

  “I can find it,” I said. Russ had talked about Mr. Specter’s house before. I knew where it was.

  “When you get there, just go in the back door and down the basement stairs.”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. I’ll see you then. I hate to cut this short, but my little cousin wants me to play Jenga with her. I promised.” Sure enough, in the background I heard a small child whining Mallory’s name.

  “Go,” I said. “Play Jenga. We’ll talk later.”

  After I hung up, my mother asked, “What did she want?” As if you could only talk on the phone if there was a pressing need.

  “To wish me a happy Easter.”

  “That girl is so thoughtful.”

  My mother had taken to Mallory from the first time we’d met her at a get-together organized by the homeschooling organization. I hadn’t wanted to go, but my parents insisted, saying it would be good for me to “socialize,” as if I were a puppy going
to the dog park. This was about two years ago, right after we’d moved here from Illinois.

  The social was held in a church basement, in a hall decorated with sagging crepe paper and half-filled white balloons, remnants from a previous event. A crooked banner above the door read, “Happy 40th Anniversary, Betty and Steve!” I sat on a folding chair off to one side and sipped orange soda from a plastic cup. My mother sat next to me, making inane commentary. “There’s an older boy about your age,” she’d said, pointing to a kid who didn’t even look close to my age. He was just big.

  And then nudging me, she said, “Maybe you should go and introduce yourself to that man. He seems to be in charge.” I tried to ignore her. Not easy.

  Most of the kids there were younger than me, and I had no interest in scaring them with my face. I also had no interest in doing any of the activities set up as icebreakers; there was a ring toss and face painting and an enormous chess board with inflatable pieces the size of small children. All of it was so cheesy and incredibly stupid that I was itching to leave as soon as we arrived. When Mallory walked in with Jameson, I was too busy inspecting the floor to notice them. Luckily, Mom doesn’t miss much. She said (way too loudly), “Those two look like they’re in high school.” Once I glanced up, it was impossible to look away.

  Mallory was like a celebrity in the local homeschooling world. Kids of all ages came running and she knew all of them by name, returning hugs, giving out high-fives, handing out compliments. Her smile lit up the place. She was beautiful, but not in a flashy way. But once you noticed her, that was it. That day Jameson followed her like he was attached to her right elbow. Mallory’s own personal lanky bodyguard.

  Once Mallory was done working the room, she came our way and introduced herself to my mother and me. Impeccable manners, is what my mother told my father later. “You should have seen how everyone flocked to this girl,” she’d said. “Nadia could learn from her.” As if being a people-magnet was a learned skill instead of a God-given gift.

  After that, Mallory, Jameson, and I became friends. Since we were all in the accelerated program, we had some of the same courses. Occasionally they came over to my house to visit so we could meet in person. My mother approved of Mallory and she was fine with Jameson, which was saying a lot. One night, very late, the three of us were online and none of us could sleep. Coincidentally, all of us felt strangely confined being inside, so when Jameson suggested we sneak out and meet outside, I didn’t hesitate. I knew I’d catch hell if my mother found out, but she didn’t. Not that night, and not any of the nights after that.

  It became an ongoing thing. We found ourselves walking the same route, ending up by the abandoned train station on the edge of town. After a while, we began to cap off the night by going to Rosie’s Diner (open twenty-four hours!) for a middle-of-the-night breakfast. We got to be regulars there. We told Rosie we were college students, coming in after a late night of studying. No one ever questioned our story. I came to look forward to those nights since it was the closest thing I had to a social life. We went out like this for months, drawn out two or three nights a week by some unseen force. And despite my worries, my parents never woke up, not once.

  And then it happened. One night, we were several blocks from the train station when the night sky filled with what looked like shooting stars. It was as impressive as fireworks, and impossible to miss. We exchanged incredulous glances and then broke into a run, making our way to the field behind the train station building where we saw that the light particles had fallen onto the field in a swirling pattern.

  “A perfect Fibonacci spiral,” Jameson had said.

  I walked the whole thing, starting on the outside of the spiral and going inward like Dorothy following the yellow brick road. The fragments of whatever it was (a meteor? something manmade?) sparkled and shimmered and gave off an energy that lifted my spirits and energized me. I leaned over and stroked them with my fingertips. They glowed with warmth, but weren’t hot.

  “Don’t touch them,” Jameson called out sharply from across the field. “They might be radioactive.”

  He and Mallory stayed off to the side, circling around the particles rather than walking through them. I was the only one who’d entered; clearly he’d thought I was an idiot for being so reckless.

  When the particles stopped glowing, we reluctantly headed for home, still not sure what we’d seen. In the morning, there was nothing in the news about this event, and when we went back to the field, it had been scraped clean. That next morning, Mallory said we should keep this to ourselves and not even do online searches. She just had a feeling, I guess, and it turned out she was right. She did some digging in the local news archives and discovered that this had also happened about sixteen years before, and that the kids who reported seeing it disappeared or died. Around the same time, someone put up posters in local businesses, offering a reward to anyone who’d witnessed a strange astronomical event. There were other things too—men posing as FBI agents showing up around town asking questions. We didn’t know what they wanted, but we were pretty sure it wasn’t good.

  And then, the next year, Mallory stopped home schooling and started attending the local high school. She wanted the authentic high school experience—going to dances and games, complaining about lunchroom food, decorating the inside of her locker. Jameson was irritated. He grumbled, “Why she’d want to lower herself to that level, I’ll never know.” But I understood. I wanted all that stuff too.

  It was in her science class, almost a year after we’d witnessed the event that she noticed Russ Becker, the boy who sat behind her doodling in his notebook. She watched as he started with a spiral and then sketched the field and the train station before adding a drawing of himself, arms raised triumphantly in the air. That’s how she knew he’d seen it too. Within a short period of time, we’d sworn him to secrecy and added him to our little group.

  Since Mallory already had dorky Jameson falling all over her, I mentally claimed Russ for myself. I knew we were unlikely to form a relationship, but when I started to astral project, I felt pulled to go to him, and he was receptive to my visits. Or at least that’s how it seemed. We talked nearly every night. I’d opened up to him—really bared my soul and he’d done the same. I think everyone wants someone just for themselves. A soul mate. That’s how I thought of us. But I guess when it comes right down to it, the reality is that the pretty girl is the desirable one, the one guys want their friends to see them with. And that’s just the way it is.

  I decided I wouldn’t visit Russ every night or maybe ever again, unless he mentioned it. I didn’t want to be that annoying person who keeps showing up, clueless that they’re not wanted. But I would go to Mr. Specter’s house at midnight on Tuesday. I wanted to hear what this field trip to Peru was all about, even if I didn’t have any chance of going along.

  I still wanted Russ to heal me. I desperately wanted Russ to heal me, but the timing had to be right. Maybe when the others noticed how much my scars had improved, I’d bring it up then.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Nadia

  Sneaking out of the house just before midnight on Tuesday felt as familiar as brushing my teeth, but a lot more exciting. After not astral projecting for two days, I was going crazy being confined. I was more than ready to leave the walls of home behind me and get out in the world.

  I hesitated for a moment when I got to Mr. Specter’s backyard. Mallory had said to go in the back door and down the stairs to the basement, which I was willing to do, except the house appeared strangely quiet and I wondered if I was in the right place. I watched the door for a few minutes and when I saw Rosie, the owner of the local diner, walk around from the front and go inside, I figured it was okay. She was part of this, according to Russ.

  From the top of the basement stairs I heard Mallory’s laugh, which was reassuring. I wasn’t the first to arrive. I also got a whiff of buttered popcorn and heard the murmur of adult voices. I stopped at the bottom, intimidated by the numbe
r of people milling around, drinks in hand, like they were at a cocktail party. I recognized Kevin Adams, who ran the local comic book store, and Rosie. Without her waitress uniform, she looked strangely unlike herself. The other three had to be Russ and Mallory’s science teacher, Mr. Specter (wearing a sweater vest, just as I’d always heard him described); along with the high school lunch lady, Mrs. Whitehouse (Russ had said she was the most annoying woman on the planet); and lastly Dr. Anton, a psychiatrist Russ had seen for his sleeping disorder. All five of them, I knew from talking to Russ, had experienced seeing the lights when they were teenagers, and had acquired superpowers of their own. Now in their late forties, their powers had faded and gone.

  Mallory was talking to Dr. Anton, but she stopped when she saw me standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Nadia,” she exclaimed, her arms spread wide. I let her pull me into an embrace and didn’t object when she pulled me over to meet the adults. Except for the lack of windows, this space gave no sign of being a basement. The walls were plastered white and the floor was covered with a plush beige carpet. We stood next to a seating area, a large U-shaped sectional sofa, and coffee table, with end tables on either side. Nothing out of the ordinary, if you didn’t count the fact that this was a secret midnight meeting of people who’d experienced miracles. Mallory made the introductions and I did my best to respond with the right words.

  Social events are hard for me because I’m expected to look people in the eye. Difficult to do while still keeping my face under cover. I managed okay, though, greeting each one in turn. When it came time to meet Dr. Anton, he extended a hand. I paused for a moment but then went along with it. He didn’t shake it, but gave it a gentle squeeze, like he was comforting me. “Very nice to meet you, Nadia. Mallory has said good things about you.” His words were positive but the feeling I got wasn’t. One of my abilities, besides being able to astral project, was being able to read people. I got insights into their characters and knew when they were telling the truth. He was being truthful, he was glad to meet me, but there was something else there, some underlying negative twinge. I was just on the verge of reading what it was, but before I could really tell anything, he let go of my hand it and it was gone. Dr. Anton looked the part of a child psychiatrist: nice smile, goatee, and snappy bow tie, but I sensed something tortured beneath his professional exterior.