Dangerous Destiny: A Night Sky novella

by Suzanne Brockmann

  The school was running the buses for the remaining students, and I texted that info to Mom, telling her I’d take the bus home, lock the door, and have a healthy snack instead of being “forced” to nosh on the free junk food they were handing out in the cafeteria. I knew I had her at “free junk food,” and sure enough, she texted me a quick OK!!! then added, B safe!!! I’ll B home soon!!!

  I had a feeling I was going to get the three-exclamation-point treatment from her for quite some time.

  Calvin and I exited the quad together, heading out toward the school parking lot, where the remaining kids hovered. Everyone was whispering excitedly about what they’d seen, what they’d heard, and how well they knew or didn’t know April, and whether or not the cops were lying when they said they hadn’t fired any guns and weren’t responsible for blowing out the cafeteria windows.

  Was that you…It might’ve been me…

  April thought she’d broken those windows, but how, exactly? By blasting them with the mighty power of her rage, or maybe from the sheer force of her crazy thoughts? And yes, crazy was the key word there.

  When Calvin and I appeared outside, the whispers turned into an awkward silence that followed us, as encompassing and uncomfortable as April’s trench coat.

  It was a miracle. We were both unharmed. I’d walked away without so much as a single bruise or cut. Calvin had suffered a minor injury when he’d skinned his elbow on the bricks, while helping to save my life.

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked him for the seven trillionth time, mainly because I had no idea what else to say. I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that my hands were shaking like tissue paper in a hurricane. Paying attention to Calvin rather than the details of what had just gone down made things marginally easier, at least for now.

  “Totally. No big. I’ll clean this up at home.”

  I followed him to the one and only wheelchair ramp on the far side of the little hill next to the quad. He put his chair into a low gear and slowly descended the slope. I kept pace alongside him.

  For a moment there was silence again.

  “Listen,” I said finally. “I just…want to thank you. For, you know, saving my life and stuff? That was really…well, let’s just say that most people would’ve run away when they had the chance.”

  Calvin waved a dismissive hand in the air. I noticed that he was trembling a little bit, too—like the adrenaline from his previous fight or flight response hadn’t yet worn off.

  Correction: Fight or fight. Calvin had rejected the flight option—even after I’d said all those mean things to him.

  “It’s bad enough being the new girl, New Girl,” he said, shrugging with such exaggerated nonchalance, I knew he was still shaking in his sneakers. “Throw a bullet wound into the mix, and you’re looking at a seriously shitty Monday.”

  I snort-laughed, and covered my face quickly.

  “Nice,” Calvin added. “You get spooked and turn into a farm animal.”

  That made me laugh even harder. Part of me felt like a weirdo about cracking up after what had just happened. But another part knew that if I didn’t keep laughing, I might start to cry. And I really didn’t want to do that right now.

  Calvin’s face held a quiet kind of satisfaction—like he lived to make people smile.

  “Stupid wheelchair boy,” he said, quoting me. “I think that was my favorite part.”

  “Mine was when you did the ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider,’” I told him.

  “What?” he said, his voice going up a full octave. But then we both cracked up as I explained and mocked him for his ridiculous walking-finger-man signal.

  In reality, our favorite part was not dying.

  Finally, I cleared my throat. “Better catch my bus before it leaves,” I said, pointing to the line of dirty orange vehicles. Five or six teachers stood nearby, herding students through the bus doors with frenzied urgency as if April were somehow scheduled to reappear with her guns and ammo.

  Although we’d heard the strangest rumor—that her weapons weren’t loaded. Not a single bullet was in either handgun or in her possession. The theory was that she was going for “suicide by cop.” Wave an unloaded gun around, scare people but don’t hurt anyone, and get shot and killed.

  What I couldn’t figure out was why she’d handed one of her guns to me. Had she done it so the police SWAT team would see me holding it and kill me, too?

  But why? Why me?

  You’re one of us…

  I tried not to think too hard about what kind of twisted logic ruled a crazy girl’s crazy world.

  It was entirely possible that because I’d bumped into her that morning, she’d singled me out.

  Yeah. So why didn’t I believe that?

  “Mayhem,” Calvin mumbled distractedly before turning his attention back to me. “Catch your bus?” he asked.

  I sighed. “Yes. I’m a bus-riding loser, remember?”

  Calvin shrugged. “Loser no more,” he replied, and waved me down the sidewalk toward the student parking. “Today you ride in style.”

  I paused. “Wait. What?”

  “Well, I mean, my ride isn’t exactly a Lambo, but I’m pretty sure it beats the alternative.” Calvin pointed to a beige-colored SUV parked a few rows down. It was nice. It was very nice.

  But I was confused. “You…can…”

  “Drive?” Calvin finished my thought for me.

  I nodded.

  “Yup,” he said with delight. “Thank you, modern technology.” He paused. “And thank you, settlement money,” he added in a slightly darker tone.

  Calvin got out his fob and unlocked the doors to the car with a beep. I watched with amazement as he pressed a series of buttons that allowed a wheelchair ramp to descend from the driver’s side of the vehicle.

  “Girl, you look like you’re watching a miracle occur,” he said as he rolled up the ramp. “It’s not that great.”

  But it was. I climbed into the passenger side and watched Calvin get himself situated in the car—a car that had hand controls and buttons that reminded me more of the inside of a plane than an SUV.

  “If I suddenly hit the floor,” I warned him as Calvin pressed a button by the steering wheel, and the car came to life. “If I just slide out of the seat and curl up down on the floor mat—nice floor mats by the way”—the entire car was freshly detailed and pristine—“please don’t take it personally. It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you.”

  Calvin pressed some more buttons and put the car into reverse. “It’s not,” he said in a tone that implied he didn’t believe me at all.

  “Nope,” I said as he backed out of the parking space. I watched as he used his hands rather than his feet to accelerate. The SUV’s driving system was similar to the way his wheelchair operated. The only difference was that the vehicle was about twenty times the size of the chair.

  “You just really, really like my new floor mats?” Calvin switched out of reverse as he twisted the wheel to turn us onto the long road that led out of the school parking lot. He drove with confidence, both hands on the wheel. It was interesting. As he sat there, I’d almost completely forgotten about the fact that he was in a wheelchair. He just looked like a normal kid driving a car.

  “Well, I do,” I said, “but that’s not…” Truth be told, this was the first time I’d accepted a ride from someone my age since the accident…

  But I didn’t want to think about that right now.

  I took a deep breath and told him the truth. “My mom will kill me if one of the neighbors sees me in this car with you and then tells her about it. It has nothing to do with your wheelchair status or the fact that you’re…Swedish royalty. She’s ridiculously overprotective. I’m not allowed to ride with anyone who hasn’t been driving for years.” I sighed disgustedly. “I’m pretty sure she ran a background check on my school bus driver, just to be certain he’s safe. Yeah. She’s that bat-shit crazy.”

  Calvin shook his head fast, like he was t
rying to process the so very cray-cray. “Wow,” he said. “That’s, like, the-shit-of-a-bat-who-took-a-laxative crazy.”

  I laughed, relieved that he believed me. “Yup.”

  “Can’t wait to meet her,” Calvin added in a tone that was anything but genuine. “And FYI, I’m thinking more and more that the whole saving-your-life thing really was a good idea. You actually seem pretty cool. For a Yankee.”

  “You’re not too bad either, for a non-Yankee,” I replied. And smiled back.

  We reached the end of the school driveway and waited at the red light. As we sat there, two news vans passed us, heading for the school. “Check it out! We’re famous,” Calvin said with sarcastic enthusiasm as the light turned green.

  I frowned. “I’m glad we got out of there before the interviews started. Last thing I need is Mom watching the news and hearing that I was one of the key players in this crap show.”

  “She’ll find out eventually.”

  “I know,” I said. “But the longer I can hold off on having her find out the details, the better, on account of…”

  Calvin finished my sentence for me again. “The whole bat-shit-crazy thing.” He took the right-hand turn onto the side street that led into our neighborhood. “Bat shit is called guano,” he told me. “It’s actually mined from caves and sold to organic farmers as fertilizer.”

  I looked at him.

  “It’s high in nitrogen,” he said almost apologetically. “Okay. Would you rather be forced to eat a handful of guano, or experience uncontrollable, explosive diarrhea in the middle of a math test?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Do all of your would you rather scenarios deal with some form of diarrhea?”

  Calvin looked sufficiently pleased with himself. “Not all. But many.”

  I shook my head. “My answer is no. I would like neither, thanks.”

  “You have to decide. It’s either-or.”

  I scrunched up my nose. “Can you give me more to work with here? Why would I be forced to eat guano?”

  Calvin shrugged expansively as he took another turn that brought us to my street. I sank down in my seat as I spotted Sasha, an adorable little brown-haired girl, out for a walk with her mother. They were the only neighbors who’d brought over a welcome basket on the day we’d moved in. I stayed low until we were safely past them.

  “Figure it’s just one of those unfortunate circumstances,” Calvin was saying. “Maybe you’re stranded on a deserted island, with nothing but guano to sustain you.”

  “If I’m stuck on a deserted island, I’ve got bigger fish to fry,” I replied.

  “Incorrect! You have nothing to fry but guano!”

  I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide my smile. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll take the math-test diarrhea. Provided that I could then move to that deserted island afterward, where no one would ever see my face again.”

  Calvin snort-laughed.

  “Hey! I’m the farm animal! Remember?”

  Calvin’s laugh was contagious, though, and pretty soon I was doubled over in the passenger seat.

  As he turned into my driveway, I quickly scanned to make sure none of our elderly neighbors were out gardening in their yards. But the coast was clear.

  “Better hurry inside before Momzilla comes home and spots you in the car with me,” Calvin said, as if reading my mind.

  Momzilla. I liked it. “Yeah,” I replied. “It’s just…everything seems like a dream right now.”

  “It’ll be an even better dream tomorrow, when they send us back to school.”

  I looked at him blankly. I didn’t understand.

  So he explained. “New girl saves the day, takes down the scary school shooter, and walks away unscathed.” He smiled a little bit sadly. “You’ll be sitting at the cool kid’s table in the lunch room—with the Garrett Hathaways of the world. So…congratulations.”

  I recognized the name, even though I’d only been attending Coconut Key Academy for one week. Garrett was the star quarterback—a too-handsome boy with a megawatt smile and an ego as big as Florida.

  I made a tiny vomiting sound. “I’ll pass, thanks,” I replied. “I’d rather continue our time-honored tradition and sit out in the quad with you.”

  Calvin’s smile got way bigger. “Well, okay, then,” he said.

  I opened up the car door and stepped out. Then, I leaned back inside. “Listen,” I said. “I mean it. Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there today.”

  My new friend’s expression turned serious. “You were the one who saved the day, Sky.”

  He’d called me Sky, instead of New Girl. I was so happy, it almost made me cry. “Well,” I said. “I don’t know about that…”

  Calvin, mercifully, picked up on my discomfort and quickly zapped the sappy. “So!” he exclaimed with a single clap. “Tomorrow! If there’s school—which there probably will be,” he added an eye roll, for emphasis, “I’ll meet you around the corner at 7:10. We’ll time it so Momzilla thinks you took the bus. Sound good?”

  I did a little happy dance in the driveway.

  Calvin shook his head from his seat. “Imma need to teach you some dance moves, among other things.”

  I laughed. “See you tomorrow,” I said, and closed the passenger door.

  As I watched Calvin drive off, I stood in the driveway of my new house—a house in which absolutely no one had recently died, thank goodness. The humid Florida air had cooled off a little bit, and a breeze tickled the hair around my neck. I caught a whiff of vanilla, and some kind of floral scent from the red shrubs that lined the lawn.

  For the first time, I actually didn’t feel too bad about being here.

  Maybe it had something to do with the bullets I’d dodged earlier today.

  Or maybe making a new friend—a funny, smart friend who could make me laugh—reminded me that there was hope after Connecticut.

  Either way, as I dug my house key out of my pocket, a thought crossed my mind. The crap had hit the fan—and the fan was definitely still moving. But I was also still breathing, and I knew one thing for sure.

  It was a good day to be alive.

  • • •

  I am not dead.

  I dreamed my death, yet here I am, still alive. At least for now.

  I’m in the hospital, where they keep me so sedated, I can’t scream for help. I can’t even speak.

  But I still dream. And I see her.

  Skylar.

  The redheaded girl haunts my dreams.

  She’s with another girl—an older girl with short blond hair and icicle-colored eyes. She’s one of us. I see brown eyes, too—a tiny girl who’s screaming, screaming, always screaming.

  Make it stop. Can’t. Make it stop…

  Please God. The little girl says it again and again in this dream that is more than a dream. Please God and Mommy!

  I want my mommy, too, but it’s too late too late too late.

  The dream shifts and changes, and I see that sweet little brown-eyed girl, laughing and dancing with red-haired Skylar in a room filled with dolls and teddy bears—it’s the bedroom of a little girl who is well-loved, and I should be jealous. I never had that, never, but instead of anger and envy, grief now buzzes through my veins. And for the first time in a long time I want to live, if only to use my terrible dreams to warn them—not Skylar and that little brown-eyed girl, because it’s too late too late too late for them.

  When I close my eyes, the cafeteria windows explode again—a crashing sound and spray from the beads of glass…Did I do that?

  I thought it was Skylar, but maybe not. She doesn’t realize who she is—what she is. Not yet.

  But she will.

  And they will come for her.

  They want her. They’ll find her, they’ll hurt her, they’ll try to kill her.

  This I know for sure.

  Read on for a

  Sneak Peek at Night Sky

  October 2014

  Chapter Oner />
  I had not been under the impression that trophy wives owned guns.

  Of course, my impression of a lot of things had been changing lately, so the idea of a homicidal contortionist with a designer handbag and a vanity license plate that read DRSWIFEY was, surprisingly, not very surprising at all.

  “What’s up with Little Miss Sunshine?” Calvin mumbled to me, tapping my forearm with his hand as we made our way to the front doors of the Sav’A’Buck supermarket. He motioned with his head for me to look behind him, and I glanced over at the lady. Huge, fake-looking boobs and even larger sunglasses. I doubted she needed them at nine o’clock at night…the sunglasses, that is. It was September in Florida, but come on.

  “Dunno,” I answered, picking up my pace a little bit. I was eager to get inside the store. Even without the sun, the humidity made the air feel like it was about ninety thousand degrees. I had a bad case of swamp butt, and my jean shorts were sticking to my backside uncomfortably.

  Calvin laughed as I fixed my wedgie with an apparently less-than-discreet swipe. “Could you fix mine too? It’s really bad. Horrible,” he said, lifting himself halfway off the seat of his electric wheelchair.

  I socked him once in the bicep. “Punk.”

  The linoleum floors of the Sav’A’Buck were sticky, and the place smelled like pig grease and stale cigarettes. But that’s what we got for venturing outside our pristine gated community and driving across the proverbial tracks into neighboring Harrisburg to the only place open after nine.

  “Man, you really want to buy food from here?” Calvin grumbled, while two small kids whisked in front of us, barefoot, their faces coated with melted purple ice pop. The woman working register four turned around, her disastrous mullet matched only by the disapproving frown she offered Calvin and me as we strolled by.

  Neither of us accepted it.

  “We’re making s’mores,” I insisted, my resolve strong. It had been a hellish week, and I wanted something chocolate. We had driven all the way out here; we weren’t turning back now.

  Calvin rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said, steering himself sharply toward the right. “Cookies and crackers. Aisle seven.”