Manifest

by Artist Arthur

  As if I’m not already feeling like a big jerk for being mad at my mother, now Gerald seems like he might be okay, too. Jeez, just how wrong could one person be? “He seems moody like Sasha, probably just a teenage thing. Maybe he’ll get over it,” I say and laugh to lighten the mood.

  “Maybe.”

  Then she does something I don’t expect. She stands and comes around the table to stand beside me. “I know you said you’re not a little girl anymore, but I’d be so happy if I could just get a hug.”

  For a minute I think of saying no or coming up with some excuse but then I look at her, really look at her. Her eyes don’t look as tired as they have been for the past few months. She’s not wringing her hands like she’s going to rip them off at any second. She looks calmer, dare I say happier. I wonder if I’m the reason for that or at least part of the reason. So I stand up and wrap my arms around her waist.

  It’s funny, at fifteen years old I’d like to think I’m past forehead kisses, packed lunches and hugs that hold you tighter than leather. But I’m not.

  I love the feel of her arms around me, of my head resting against her chest, of the rhythmic patter of her heart against my ear. I love her scent that reminds me of when I was a baby and rested my head in this very spot. But what I love most of all is what she says to me next and how it fills me up completely.

  “It’ll always be you and me, Krys. No matter what.”

  That’s better than I love you, better than I miss you or I’m sorry. Why? Because it says that no matter how dumb and spoiled I act or how misunderstood she is, that we’ll be together.

  I like that. Very much.

  twenty-eight

  “You’re beautiful,” my mom says as she looks at me through the mirror.

  She’s standing behind me as I’m surveying myself and trying to keep from looking up at her. If I look at her, I’ll see that she’s happy, happier than she’s been in a long time. I feel bad and sad at the same time, and then I’ll feel happy that we’re together. And then I’ll want to cry like she’s doing. So I don’t look at her.

  Instead I run my hand over my stomach, acting like I’m smoothing down my dress. It’s so pretty, I have to admit. I would never have picked it out for myself but I’m glad she did. It’s royal blue with a collar like a button-down shirt except it has sparkly white rhinestones on it. There’s a belt with a rhinestone clasp at my side and then the dress flares out like one of those ladies on Dancing with the Stars. It’s so cool because even though it has a collar there are no sleeves. On my left wrist is a sapphire tennis bracelet that my mom had given me for my fourteenth birthday and around my neck, resting coolly against my M, is the matching necklace. On the other arm she says Franklin should put my corsage.

  “Thanks,” I say finally and turn around to face her.

  “I’m so happy you’re going,” she says and pulls me to her for a hug.

  “Ah, okay, Mom. I’m happy I’m going, too,” I mumble, blinking furiously because this mascara she put on me has my lids sticking together.

  “No,” she says and pulls away, cupping my cheeks in her hands. “I’m happy that we’re talking again and that you’re eating and we’re both happy. I’m just—”

  “Happy?” I interrupt.

  She starts to laugh and so do I.

  “For the record, I feel the same way.”

  Then we hear the doorbell and I know Franklin has arrived. For a second I feel like Cinderella, then as I move down the steps I feel something else.

  Anticipation? No, dread. Of what might happen next.

  Cold out 2nite. Temp has dropped

  That’s the text I get from Jake while riding in the car with Franklin to the dance. I text back:

  ino gt a jacket

  We’re sitting in the backseat and Franklin reaches for my hand. It’s after eight so it’s dark outside, dark in the back of Franklin’s father’s car. My cell is in my other hand since I took it out of the small purse my mom bought to go with the dress when it vibrated.

  im freezing

  Sasha texts me. And I’m about to text her back something trivial about wearing a coat over that strapless mini-dress she insisted on buying but then I think about what they’re both saying and instead type:

  think ths is the storm???

  I text this to both Jake and Sasha, suddenly worrying that the temperature drop from yesterday’s sixty-two degrees and this afternoon’s sixty-four to this evening’s forty-seven means more than just put a jacket on.

  maybe

  Jake responds.

  definitely

  Sasha texts.

  I’m inclined to side with Sasha.

  So I stare out the window, watching the dark sky and the quiet streets of Lincoln as we pass by, wondering what’s in store for this little town and how it will affect me.

  Franklin’s dad, his name is Mr. Walter, he seems really cool. He’d been talking and joking since we first got into the car. Then it dawns on me that since he is being so friendly I can probably get some info about these storms and how we could possibly get power from them. So I learn that all storms carry energy, sometimes heat energy or cold energy and even electrical energy. He thinks our storms are spiked by all three of these elements, that there’s an unusually high level of energy in each of our storms.

  The Power, just like Pop Pop said. Only as a scientist, Mr. Walter thinks of it in a textbook way. Actually, he talks like he believes these freak storms and the energy spikes might be widespread. He actually sounds excited by that prospect.

  He’s confirmed my thoughts—our thoughts—that these storms are happening all over. Which means there are more out there like us, more with this Power.

  Franklin lifts an arm and puts it around me. I snuggle a little closer to him because I’m suddenly chilled by the thought of more Mystyx. And as my head rests on his shoulder I’m touched with another thought.

  The logic of light and dark, cold and hot, up and down—if there is a good power, which I am certain the Mystyx have, then there has to be a bad.

  As Franklin and I enter the dance, Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” is blasting through the gymnasium. There’re already a bunch of kids in the center of the floor dancing. Over the top of their heads are strands of crepe paper in all different colors. On the walls are more crepe paper and balloons and other weird-looking paper objects. It looks like the party store exploded in here when just yesterday I was in here standing in my squad line going through daily gym class roll call.

  Franklin’s holding my hand. Has been since I climbed in the back of the car. I wasn’t sure he’d keep doing that once we got here, but he is. Butterflies are dancing in my stomach, for Franklin this time, because he’s touching me, because we’re a couple. I’m smiling and people might think it’s because they’re speaking to us but it’s not, it’s because for once in a very long time I’m happy.

  The DJ changes songs and I spot Sasha. She’s on the dance floor with Twan. I think they look cool together. Sasha with her exotic coloring, designer dress and flawless makeup and Twan with his black baggy jeans, white button-down shirt and black boots. He wasn’t wearing a hat today and his hair was neatly cut around his cocoa-brown face. He looks like Ricky a little. His face is a little fuller and he doesn’t have the dimple, but he’s still cute.

  I get this funny feeling about the two of them, like there’s something there but they’re both fighting it. Well, maybe not Twan since he’s grinding up on Sasha like he’s ready for whatever. But definitely Sasha, she has a lot of resistance where Twan is concerned. I just hope it’s not solely because of who he hangs with and how he dresses.

  I see she’s looking a little uncomfortable by the way Twan’s moving on her so I start walking in their direction.

  “You wanna dance already?” Franklin asks, sounding kind of surprised.

  “Not really,” I say quickly. “I was just going over to speak to Sasha.”

  “Well, she looks busy so we might as well join in.”
>
  He pulls me to the center of the dance floor and I wave as Sasha looks up and sees me. She smiles and takes that opportunity to back up a little from Twan. I kind of shrug, hoping she gets my message that it’s okay to keep dancing with him. Then she nods her head like she’s approving of Franklin. Again, this bond between us is weird but it’s growing on me.

  The song shifts from something hip-hop to “You Belong With Me” by Taylor Swift. It’s a cool song and I’m actually feeling like the lyrics are directed right at me and Franklin. He said he thought I was special and that he cared about me, well, I felt the same way about him. I know that now, am absolutely certain about it. So I guess he does kinda belong to me.

  The thing about happiness is it really depends on what’s happening at the moment.

  Here I am on the dance floor with a really cute boy, my boyfriend. I have another friend dancing with her guy—whether or not she wants to admit that’s what he is. And we’re at a school dance, being teenagers, enjoying ourselves.

  And then I see it.

  Or I should say her.

  Camy and Alyssa enter the gym looking like they just stepped off Project Runway. Their dresses are definitely designer and definitely expensive. Their hair is fabulous and their dates—I hate to admit it, are hot! They don’t even look like they go to Settlemans, which is strange because this is the only high school in town.

  But it’s like all of that slipped away in the background as I zero in on Camy. Why? At first I don’t know but then it hits me. She’s wearing a hot pink dress, asymmetrical, touching one knee on one side and riding along her thigh on the other. It’s held up by spaghetti straps made of rhinestones. Her shoes are silver, strappy and studded with more stones. Her blond hair’s all curly, falling around her creamy shoulders and…it’s exactly what she was wearing in my vision.

  Immediately my heart starts to race. Tonight’s the night. I know it. From the funny feeling I had when I was leaving the house to the sudden drop in the temperature and now this. Whatever is coming after us is here and whoever is going to kill Camy is going to do it tonight.

  twenty-nine

  Scanning the room, I look for Sasha and Jake. We need to talk, to figure out what we’re going to do.

  I find Jake. He’s leaning against the wall looking like this is the last place he wants to be. His faded pants and hoodie have been traded for black slacks that fit him a lot better and another T-shirt, but this one is a shinier black material and he has it tucked into the slacks. He looks cool, hip, for the first time.

  Obviously someone else thinks so, as a short, skinny girl grabs his hand and pulls him to the dance floor. He looks like he’s anything but comfortable, but the girl looks persistent. She has a pretty smile and a really round face. She’s Asian, I can tell instantly by the slanted eyes and coal-black hair. She’s cute and doesn’t waste any time plastering her tight little body against Jake’s. His cheeks turn red and I feel sorry for him because he’s totally embarrassed. Then again I feel a little happy for him because I hate to see him so quiet-looking all the time.

  Like he realizes I am looking at him, he looks over at me. I smile and lift a hand to wave. He lifts his hand slowly, sort of moves his fingers back at me, but doesn’t smile. He looks totally out of his element. The warning stirs in me again and I want to use this as a reason to rescue him. Then I think, maybe I’m meant to handle this alone. The part about Camy, I mean. It was my vision after all.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Sasha is tapping me on my shoulder and I jump because I didn’t realize she is behind me.

  “Ah, I’m, ah, thirsty,” I say quickly and glance at Franklin.

  He nods. “I’ll get you something. Sasha, you want a drink, too?”

  Understanding me completely, Sasha says, “Sure. Thanks a lot, Franklin.”

  The minute he’s gone she grabs my arm. “Something’s going on. I can feel it.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. I don’t know what, though.”

  “We should get Jake,” she says.

  I look in that direction again. “He seems, ah, busy.”

  Sasha follows my gaze. “Who’s that?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, exchange student, maybe?” I had never seen the Asian girl around the school before but that didn’t mean anything since I hadn’t been in town that long.

  “Okay, well, what should we do?”

  “Camy’s here and she’s wearing the dress I saw in my vision.”

  “Oh, no,” Sasha gasps. “We’ve got to warn her.”

  “How? Walk up to her and say, ‘Hey, Camy, saw you getting bashed in the head, just wanted to give you a heads-up’?”

  “No, that’ll never work,” Sasha says like she really thinks I’m serious. “Maybe if I go and keep her occupied for the rest of the night.”

  “But what if it happens after the dance?”

  It’s Sasha’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know. Wait! She’s leaving.”

  I see it, too. Camy’s heading toward the door, alone.

  “Let’s follow her,” Sasha says.

  I agree but then I hear my cell phone. Sasha is already moving to go with Camy as I pull out the phone and look at it.

  U look gr8 2nite. Cn we meet?

  It was number1 again and this time I knew exactly what I had to do.

  Sure. Where?

  This is beyond crazy and yet I know it’s what must be done. Number1 has to be the perv getting young girls to pose naked, texting all this sex talk and then killing them. And if he is, then he killed Charlotte and probably Trina. And, I think what I’ve been suspecting the past day or so, Ricky.

  So with my heart hammering in my chest, my palms sweating, my legs shaking as I take the stairs toward the hallway where he asked me to meet him, I begin to think about my power. It’s not a very physical power and I don’t know how it’ll help me in this instance but it’s moving through my veins, filling me with a confidence I’ve never possessed before.

  I know where I’m going, past the gym and around the corner to where the locker rooms and equipment room are. He wants me to meet him in the equipment room, where I first saw Charlotte. I wonder if that’s where he killed her.

  He is clever. He will try to trick you.

  I hear the female voice and while it startles me I don’t flinch, just keep moving.

  “I’m not afraid of him,” I say to the air or the spirit who’s with me and realize that I mean it.

  That’s what I thought.

  A different voice this time, one I recognize. I look around for Trina but she isn’t there, at least not in her spiritual body.

  I should have said something sooner, I know. But I couldn’t. I was afraid.

  “Ricky said he told you to stop,” I say just as I approach the door to the equipment room. “Why didn’t you?”

  I don’t know. Guess I don’t love Ricky as much as you do.

  Whooooaaa, who said I loved Ricky? Like him a whole lot maybe, appreciate that he really listened to me and gave me the kind of advice I needed to hear, but no, I’m almost positive I don’t love him.

  He’s going to do it again.

  This is Charlotte speaking now. My hand is on the doorknob as I pause because maybe there’s something else she wants to tell me.

  You must stop him.

  I nod. “Okay.”

  That’s all I can say. I know he’s dangerous, I know he’s a pervert and that he’s killing young girls. What I don’t know is how I’m going to stop him.

  Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step inside. I don’t even get a chance to look around before I’m grabbed around the waist and slammed face-first against the wall. He’s big, his body pressed up against mine, and he’s strong.

  “Finally,” he says, breathing hard in my ear.

  The voice sounds familiar…get him to say more, keep him talking. If I can buy some time, Sasha’s going to get Jake and they’re going to come looking for me.

  “You didn’t ask me to meet you in the other messages
,” I say, struggling to stay calm.

  “No, but I wanted to.”

  His hands are moving over me, touching the dress my mother had bought, making it feel dirty now instead of pretty. I want to vomit, truly, honestly just puke at the thought of this grown man—because yeah, he sounds old—touching me like this.

  My teeth are sinking into my bottom lip to keep from screaming. “You wanted a picture. Is that what you do, take pictures?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve got lots of pictures.”

  He leans in closer and touches his tongue to my neck. I shiver. He chuckles and I know who he is.

  Struggling, I try to get out of his grip but he holds me tight. I want to run, I want to get away from him because of who he is. What he can do to me is more terrifying than anything I’ve ever thought. But then I remember Charlotte and Trina and even Camy and I go slack against the wall.

  “If you want to take a picture, then come on.” I know I’m baiting him but I don’t know what else to do, how else to handle this. The room is really cold. I can hear the wind blowing outside; it’s pounding against the windows.

  Again I think of the Power. Mine. Sasha’s. Jake’s. The unknown darkness that we know is coming for us.

  It’s strange but again I feel confident and strong. I take a deep breath.

  “Trina looked good in her pictures. But Ricky didn’t like them, did he?”

  “What?”

  “He wanted her to stop letting you photograph her, right?”

  His fingers are tightening around my waist and it hurts but his upper body is pressing against me, holding me still.

  “Trina was stupid, she had a big mouth. You wouldn’t tell, would you, Krystal? You didn’t tell about the messages I sent you or the pictures. You’re a good girl.”