by W. J. May
It’s almost as if she hasn’t slept in days. Skylar hesitated for only a moment before she rushed over to Atlanta and hugged her. She could feel the other girl melt in her arms, as if she were carrying a heavy weight that was too much to bear alone.
“I’ll leave you two and go make some breakfast,” James said as he smiled and moved towards the kitchen. “Skylar, you hungry?”
“No thanks, Mr. Skolar; I had breakfast right before I left the house,” she replied politely. Better to lie than eat James Skolar’s cooking.
“Just don’t burn the kitchen down, please,” Atlanta said then turned back to Skylar, putting the fake smile on again. “How’ve you been?” Atlanta said as they sat down on the couch by the living room window. “What’ve you been up to?” She didn’t mention that she’d barely been to school the past month, but Skylar had a pretty good idea what Atlanta was referring to.
“Not much,” she replied, playing along with Atlanta’s fake merriment, giving her friend the space she needed to breathe before pushing her to spill. “I finally finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird, and you were right. I think I was missing out on a lot.”
“You think? It’s a classic! Everything that comes out of Atticus Finch’s mouth is a literary jewel,” Atlanta exclaimed.
“I know, I loved every single part of the book,” Skylar said softly.
There was a moment of silence that followed, even though they had a lot to catch up on.
Atlanta gazed out the window.
“I saw you standing at your bedroom window when I pulled in,” Skylar said, trying to break the silence. “I waved, but it was like you weren’t there at all.” That should get her talking.
“I’m sorry,” Atlanta replied. “I really didn’t see you. You know me when I’m drifting. I daydream a lot.” She let out a brief laugh.
Not buying it. “Daydreaming? Yeah, right. I’m beginning to think you seriously need a hobby, something other than gazing out your window.”
Atlanta laughed the comment away, and for a moment her eyes almost robotically moved to gaze out the window again.
“So, is there something you want to tell me?” Skylar whispered as she squinted her eyes and waved her hands in front of Atlanta.
“No, not really,” Atlanta replied, startled and obviously reaching for some sort of explanation Skylar knew wouldn’t be satisfactory. “I just haven’t been feeling well lately.”
“Something’s wrong,” Skylar said, shaking her head. “I can see it. You don’t simply disappear for this long and then tell me nothing’s wrong. I know you, Atlanta, and this is the first time since seventh grade that we’ve spent a whole month without a word.” Skylar’s tone was loaded with confusion and worry.
“It’s not a month.” Atlanta swallowed and glanced out the window. “Just three weeks.”
Skylar watched as her friend alternated between looking at her and out the window. “Atlanta? What’s going on? Does this have something to do with Ry—”
She gasped when Atlanta grabbed her hand and pulled her off the couch. She found herself being guided out of the living room hurriedly, then rushed up the stairs. Once they were in Atlanta’s room, her friend closed the door and leaned against it.
“Skylar, what I’m going to tell you now has to stay between us,” Atlanta said assertively, her eyes fixed on Skylar’s. “No one can know that you know this. I can’t believe I’m telling you.”
“What is it? You’re freaking me out here, and since when am I a talker?”
“Even Uncle James can’t know about this; Michael, too. Literally no one,” Atlanta said, her voice growing more assertive. More desperate.
“I won’t tell a soul.” Whatever was going on with her best friend, it was bad. Was she sick? Cancer? Oh crap, was she pregnant? Skylar shook her head. She doubted the last one. That didn’t make sense.
“I don’t know where to start,” Atlanta said, trying to gather her thoughts. “Just don’t hate me for hiding this from you.”
“Are you pregnant?”
“No, of course not! That’s what you’re thinking?” Atlanta responded mockingly. “Now you’re making it even harder for me explain what’s been going on.” She stood from the bed and went back beside the window, then frantically moved towards the bookshelf and back.
Skylar sat on the bed, her mind swirling in black holes of confusion.
“Look, I’ll just tell you everything,” Atlanta blurted. “I haven’t been honest with you about many things in my life, and it isn’t because I don’t trust you; it’s just that it’s against the rules of the Hand to talk to an ordinary about the nature of this city.”
She’s been lying to me? “Ordinary?” Skylar interrupted. “Hand? This sounds like a lame part of a fantasy sequel.” She laughed.
“You’re not far off with that guess.” Atlanta sighed and closed her eyes. “Just keep an open mind. Please.”
Skylar waited, leaning on her knees, but before Atlanta could utter a word James opened the door.
“Sorry to barge in, girls,” James said, forcing a smile at Skylar before turning to Atlanta. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
Skylar smiled awkwardly as Atlanta shot her a glance and disappeared outside, closing the door behind them. She strained to hear what they were talking about, but their voices were too low and muffled.
Ten minutes later, Atlanta walked back in. The color had returned to her face and her smile suddenly seemed a lot more genuine.
“What happened?” Skylar asked. “Everything okay?”
Atlanta shook her head, then began to cry.
Chapter 17
He’s back. I just got a call. Ryan’s home.
“Atlanta! What’s going on?” Skylar’s voice rose in panic.
“I’m s-sorry.” Atlanta smiled through her tears. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine.” Well, kind of.
“What the heck’s going on?” Skylar set her hands on her hips and her mouth drew into that thin line she did when she was frustrated and not sure what to do.
“Ryan. He’s back. He’s okay.”
“Ryan? That’s why you’re crying?” Skylar tilted her head to the side. “Have you got a crush on him?”
“What?” Atlanta wiped her cheeks and started laughing. “No! No. That’s not why…oh, forget it.” She grabbed Skylar and hugged her. “It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Her friend groaned and pushed free of the tight hug. “I’m not so sure. I think you’re going looney.”
Uncle James tapped on the door again and popped his head in. “Ladies, everything okay in here?” He shot Atlanta a warning look that disappeared a second later. “I’ve made breakfast. Who’s hungry?”
Skylar glanced at Atlanta before turning back to James. “I’m good. Thanks for the offer, though. I need to, uh, get going and check on my brother.”
“Your loss.” Uncle James winked and headed down the hall, whistling. He’d left the door open and Skylar made her way to it.
“So, you’re good?” she asked Atlanta. “You’re coming back to school tomorrow?”
Atlanta nodded. “Yeah. I promise. I’ll be there.”
“Awesome. ‘Cause I’m not eating any of your uncle’s cooking if I don’t have to.”
They both burst out laughing.
* * *
Atlanta lay in her bed later that night, staring at the ceiling, her eyes wide, unable to sleep. Her uncle’s words resonated inside her mind.
“I just got a call. Ryan’s home.”
She rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She felt like crying all over again, a rush of relief racing through her every time she thought about Ryan’s return. She hadn’t wanted to say it out loud, but a part of her had believed he was dead. She hated herself for thinking it, but her mind had a way of jumping to the worst.
He’s back. He’s really back.
She felt her cheeks flush.
She remembered the shock on her friend’s face when she ha
d walked back into the room and burst into tears. Atlanta welcomed the other girl’s embrace, and really let the waterworks go.
I was going to tell her everything.
She suddenly sat up.
She was going to tell Skylar how her broken arm from last summer wasn’t actually because she was sleepwalking and fell down the staircase. She was going to tell her about the time her Uncle James woke her in the middle of the night, and they both stormed to the forest just outside of Calen to fight vampires that were attacking from a nearby town.
I was going to break a vow. How could I be so stupid?
Skylar had pressed her for questions and luckily Uncle James had come in and offered breakfast, saving Atlanta from blurting out secrets she had sworn to keep.
When she’d called Skylar earlier in the morning she realized she wasn’t ready to lie to her about how she felt, and hung up before she could talk. Then when Skylar showed up at the house she told herself that it was alright, she could handle Skylar, but she never expected her friend to be so blunt. Atlanta had felt cornered. And she wanted to tell Skylar something.
She couldn’t explain why, but after everything it seemed like she had no proper reason to hide anything from Skylar. That the sworn to secrecy thing didn’t apply to the two of them. She trusted Skylar. She knew Skylar would go to the grave with a secret if Atlanta asked her to. If anything, she would be of help when needed. She thought of the many times she wished she’d told Skylar about her nights spent slaying the rogue vampires. She smiled to herself at the thought of the them spending days drinking coffee and talking about the details of those fights just like they discussed what lay between the lines of every Dostoevsky novel.
Suddenly, the decision was made.
She couldn’t take it anymore, the bottled-up emotions that were swelling in her every vein and boiling in the coldest compartments of her head. She was too used to pretending to be all right. And in her friendship with Skylar, especially since it was one based on relating on an emotional level, it got harder with every passing day.
Atlanta sighed and rolled onto her back. She hadn’t noticed how much her secret life was taking a toll on her. She was starting to get sloppy, which was a dangerous thing if it meant sharing her secrets. Even if it was Skylar.
How did I let this happen?
She was thankful James had intervened, and with that thought she smiled. The moment she’d heard the words come out of her uncle’s mouth, her heart threatened to burst from her chest. The doubts that had engulfed her mind rested like embers that fell around trees in perfect circles. Her body relaxed for the first time in days, and her bottled-up tears rushed back to the locked compartments of her heart, knowing that Ryan hadn’t faced the same fate his father did.
Until the moment she closed her eyes and drifted into the one complete cycle of sleep in all the sleepless nights that preceded, she was resisting the urge to go knock on Ryan’s door and see for herself that he was back and safe. But she knew it was best to let this one night pass and wait until she saw him in school.
He’s back. That’s all that matters.
* * *
Before dawn burst into the night, and before the birds sang in the morning, the ravens croaked and rain fell through the silent darkness. Atlanta slowly opened her eyes and blinked, letting the blur of the night sharpen as her eyelashes flexed apart. Her room wasn’t its usual mess, especially since she had used up all her anxious and forlorn thoughts into tidying every corner of it. The books were in alphabetical order, her clothes in the wardrobe were a perfect reflection of the spectrum of dispersed white light. Her feet softly swept the sheets as she tried to get out bed.
Her throat was dry and her head ached. Her legs and feet were sore, as if she had run a marathon the day before. Her heart felt heavy, then grew heavier at the sight of the moon obscured at a distance through her window. She heard a raven croak, then the croaking echoed louder and louder. Soon it sounded like a conspiracy of ravens approaching her, but she couldn’t tell from where. It was almost as if the croaking wasn’t coming from outside, but more as if it were inside her wardrobe. She rushed towards it and slid its veneer doors open. The sound grew louder; it was closer than the fears inside her own head. She threw out all her perfectly folded clothes, yet nothing was there.
Where’s it coming from? The throbbing of her heart was an echo of the drizzling rain outside, and all she could see or feel was a blur of what was real.
She stopped frantically throwing her clothes around. She straightened her back and took a deep breath. She locked the air inside her chest and closed her eyes for a second, then exhaled. She turned her back to the closet and looked at the window, and froze.
That’s impossible.
There was a branch of a tree sloping from the porch to the window of her room, but she knew it had never been there before. The closest greenery other than the grass of their small garden was yards away. She walked slowly towards the window, eyes fixed on one leaf that was quivering on the branch.
Suddenly her gaze was met with the red eyes of a raven. It croaked as it descended on the branch.
“Get away!” she hissed, and slammed the window with her hands, hoping to scare bird away, but it didn’t budge. It stayed put, eyes glaring at her, the redness of their glow growing more and more intense with every shiver that ran through her body. The sound of the croaks suddenly intensified. She turned to look at the closet, in fear that the sound was as close physically as it was in her head. There was still nothing, and when she looked back at the window the raven was gone.
As was the branch.
She leaned closer towards the window and looked down at the porch, but saw nothing. No sign of a raven or the branch; it had all disappeared. She opened the window and looked to both sides of the house, the pounding of her heart slowly easing. Maybe I’m losing it. Was I dreaming?
“Ryan’s home. That’s all that matters,” she whispered and took a deep breath, trying to calm her frayed nerves. She slipped her hand outside the window and opened it, palm up to see if it was still raining. Though the sound of the drizzling had ceased, there were still tiny drops falling. She kept her hand outside and her tension dissipated with the coldness of the falling water.
Then, suddenly, the rain intensified. The wind picked up, and she could see the distant trees dancing to its harmony. Her body stopped shivering, her heartbeat’s rate was returning to normal, but her feeling of uneasiness wouldn’t go away.
She heard an echo of a croak from afar, but dismissed it until she heard it again and closer. Then again. She pulled her hands back in and shook her head, trying to disperse the sounds she was certain were only in her head. But they only grew louder. And louder. So loud she could barely think.
She held the handle of the window with her right arm and pulled the metal-framed window towards her, and once it was closed the croaks disappeared.
She sighed and turned to grab some clothes. It was time to talk to Uncle James. See if he knew what was going on.
She froze when the sound of her window cracking echoed in the room.
Atlanta turned around slowly, her eyes widening, and a silent scream hissed out of her mouth. Talons slammed against the glass. Dozens of ravens fell on her window, crashing against it, the cracks on the glass spreading with every flutter of wings. It was a cacophony of melancholy croaks and the darkest spectrum of black feathers and red eyes.
Run!
Atlanta broke into a sprint just as the window behind her shattered. She ran towards the door, only looking back once at the red eyes glaring at her. She turned back towards the door of her room, but it had transformed, taller and wider, its color now a dark brown.
She hesitated for only a split second, unable to comprehend what she was seeing, then rushed forward and tried opening it.
Locked!
She leaned her back to the red wall surrounding the door. The ravens were all around her now, a bombardment of wings and talons and croaks.
; She closed her eyes and screamed. Her cries echoed all around her, and she thrashed against the wings slapping her face.
Then, suddenly, they were gone.
She fell to the floor, her hands still raised to protect her face, and only when she was sure that she was no longer under attack she dropped them. She cautiously opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings.
She was in the Dome.
Someone laughed, and her head snapped in the direction of the sound.
A dark figure stood watching her. His fangs dropped from the sides of his mouth like the sharpened, frozen edges of the caves in the coldest mountains. He wore a hood that shrouded the features of his face. His claws were bloody, so much like the red glare that lined the core of his eyes.
Atlanta felt the world around her begin to swim out of focus. The small distance between her lids narrowed, and all that remained was the redness of his eyes in the background of the blur. Soon, even that began to fade, and slowly melted into darkness.
Her eyes fluttered open a second later. She was back in her room!
She jumped out of bed, the air trapped in her lungs struggling to escape. She shook, and her hands and feet were clenched. What had happened? Her gaze tore to the window. Closed and unbroken. Her closet hadn’t been touched, and the room was as organized as it had been when she’d fallen asleep.
It was a bad dream.
Finally, the air seeped from between her lips and through the contracted pathways in her nose. The nightmare had passed, but she couldn’t shake the image of the hooded man that remained etched at the forefront of her mind.
Chapter 18
The morning sun gleamed through the window of Atlanta’s room as she struggled to get out of bed. Every time she shifted closer to the edge of her mattress her eyes closed, and her mind sought warmth in dark silence, then another nightmare would come parading with melancholy vividness.
She stayed under the covers, turning from side to side, trying to escape the morning sun. She needed more sleep after the marathon of dreams that came crashing to her during the night. The warmth of the sun failed to let her relax long enough to fall back into a dreamless sleep. She’d never felt so tired in her life, she was sure of it.