Feral (The Irisbourn Chronicles Book 1)

by Victoria Thorne

  “No, no ma’am.” But it was clear that, between the two of us, I wasn’t the one who needed to work on recognizing personal mistakes.

  “If I find you disrupting my class again, you will find yourself in detention,” Ms. Garner assured me as she readied her book to begin the lesson.

  I hadn’t even done anything. I gaped at Spencer in disbelief to gauge his response and he shrugged back. Meanwhile, Cecelia managed to slip me a nasty look, which I pretended not to see. What was her problem?

  “Wow, Ms. Garner really doesn’t like you,” Alexis whispered to me while Ms. Garner wrote something on the board.

  “Yeah, neither does that Cecelia girl either.”

  “Still? What did you do to her?!” Alexis’ eyes lit up. I had quickly learned that the scent of fresh gossip to Alexis was the equivalent to the scent of blood to sharks.

  “Nothing! I never do anything!” I breathed irritably. Maybe I just had a talent for repulsing people.

  Unfortunately, my outburst hadn’t been very quiet, because Ms. Garner turned around and wordlessly narrowed her eyes at me.

  I was really, really going to hate this class.

  Thanks to Ms. Garner’s sudden display of concern for the way I used my red pen, she forgot to check that everyone had completed the homework. So, at the very least, I could pride myself in the fact that I had saved Alexis from potential humiliation.

  In gym, misfortune struck again when the coach announced that we would all be playing a “fun and friendly” game of dodge ball. In what world was intentionally trying to hit other people with rubber balls fun and friendly? Those two adjectives contradicted the very nature of dodge ball itself.

  Somehow I ended up in the first game with Cecelia on the opposing team. Even in her gym uniform, she looked ready for a party, from her perfectly pedicured toenails to her immaculately straight blond hair. She seemed relatively short surrounded by her similar-looking friends who, like her, were wearing so much makeup that their eyelashes looked like blackened brooms.

  At that moment, Cecelia was leading a discussion concerning potential interpretations of the text, “Hi," which had, from what I could discern, been sent to her by a boy she had just met in class. Her two friends clung to her every word and ensured that the boy was definitely in love with her. As they tried to dissect the meaning of “hi," I suppressed the urge to rain reality on their deluded train of thought.

  Five minutes later, the game still hadn’t started, thanks to the coach’s inability to locate the dodge balls in the storage room. Cecelia was still consulting her friends for advice on the follow-up text. I sighed as she confidently (and likely inappropriately) decided to reply with “Hey baby."

  Cecelia then proceeded to complain about how she was so fat, and how she would probably be better off without her lunch. Her two friends fawned over her, emphasizing that she was the perfect weight and much too pretty to go without a day of food. I then began to realize that these three people must have been the shallowest people on the entire campus. I hadn’t known that girls could so adamantly declare their flaws in a desperate attempt to fish for compliments. Hell, I had never done it; I thought it only happened in Mean Girls.

  Finally, after a grand total of seven minutes, the game started. I wasn’t a very good shot, and most of my balls sailed out into open air without a specific target.

  Two minutes into the game, I noticed that most of the balls flying at me were coming from Cecelia’s direction. She was aiming every ball she caught at my head. Was she intentionally trying to maim me?

  I didn’t have a death wish, so I let one of her balls graze my arm, allowing me to go directly to the “out” zone. I liked my head, and I had no intention of letting Cecelia use it for target practice.

  ***

  Although my dignity remained intact, the dodge ball match left me sore and livid. That night, just as I was about to go to bed, I called Matt to thoroughly inform him of the long list of grievances I held against Cecelia. But he didn’t pick up. I frowned and threw my phone onto my bed stand. It was unlike him not to answer a call.

  I knew that I would never be able to fall asleep when I was upset, so I took some ZzzQuil before turning off all my lights and tunneling under my sheets to create a warm, safe little nest for myself.

  Minutes melted into one another, and I still didn't feel the slightest bit drowsy.

  Although I was buried under a mountain of down comforters, my body suddenly grew cold and tense. Maybe that meant that the ZzzQuil was working. I pulled the blankets tighter around my body and tried to lull myself to sleep with the abrupt drop in temperature.

  The temperature fell even further, and my arms and legs shivered uncontrollably, as if physically trying to shake off the numb, icy sensation.

  Something was wrong.

  Panic fluttered in my chest, and I took deep breaths, hoping that perhaps the feeling was one of those unexplainable, fleeting experiences that occasionally accompanied nightfall. All I could do was wait for it to pass.

  A light tapping emanated from somewhere within my room. My heartbeat picked up, and I began to quake no longer from the cold, but in terror. The tapping slowly became scratching, growing louder and louder until I could distinguish the distinctive sound of fingernails dragging along the walls. I shut my eyes and tried to block out the noise. My body was frozen with fear. I didn't know what was happening.

  Individual nails scored the ceiling, the floor, the doors menacingly, mercilessly. I desperately wanted it to stop, but I didn't have the strength to emerge from my shelter of blankets to confront the tormenting external nightmare.

  Then, in one moment, the night became silent. Only I and darkness remained.

  The cold sensation disappeared. I could move again. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  What had happened?

  Somehow I managed to summon enough courage to close my eyes and elevate my head into the cool, unprotected airspace above my bed. I took a deep, calming breath and opened my eyes.

  At the foot of my bed hovered a grisly skeleton of a face with sickly translucent skin. Its eyes were dark, bottomless sockets and its mouth had been fixed into a silent scream. For the rest of my existence, the horror of that face would be permanently seared into my memory. I could remember feeling my heart stop, not just in terror of the creature in front of me, but in terror of the unknown. Because I could not comprehend what I was looking at, and I could not predict its intentions.

  Before I could react, its body tensed and rolled in uneven, unnatural movements as if to spring.

  I didn’t even get the chance to scream.

  ***

  I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I could remember was waking up in my bed the next morning, disoriented and quivering. When I could finally bring myself to remember the horrors of the previous night, I screamed shamelessly like a madwoman. Hell, I probably had gone mad. In that case I was entitled to my hysteria.

  Heather sprinted into my room first, and, upon seeing my expression, the color drained from her face.

  “What’s wrong?!” she demanded as she ran to my side.

  "I don't know," I whispered. "I saw someone -- no something -- in my room last night. I don't know, I don't know." I started to cry. I rarely cried about anything other than my parents. What was happening to me?

  "What did you see, Amber?" Matt pleaded, trying to judge the severity of the situation. I must not have noticed him come in.

  "I don't know, I don't know." I repeated the same words over and over again brokenly. I looked my brother in the eyes. "I think there might be something in the house."

  “What, like a person?” Heather questioned.

  “I don’t know. It was so dark…” I put my head into my hands.

  Without another word, Matt charged out of the room, and when he came back he was armed with a metal baseball bat and a can of pepper spray.

  “I’m searching the house. Stay here.” He threw the pepper spray to Heather who caugh
t it deftly. “Use this only if you have to.” Matt disappeared into the hallway.

  “I don’t even know how to use this thing,” Heather muttered as she fiddled with the little canister.

  “Who knew Matt had pepper spray.” I wiped my eyes and attempted to speak normally, but my voice broke on the “pepper,” and Heather noticed.

  “Hey, everything’s going to be okay,” she assured me. “You’re not hurt are you?” She looked me over worriedly. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “No, I’m fine. No medical attention required,” I assured her. “It’s just, last night, I thought I saw a face, right there.” I pointed to the foot of my bed. “It was so ghastly and inhuman… and I saw it lunge at me.” The more I said, the more ridiculous I sounded. I was even finding it hard to believe myself. It all began to feel more and more like a dream as my memory of it slipped away with every passing minute.

  “Crazy stuff,” Heather responded.

  “Indeed,” I mumbled. “To be honest, it was probably just a dream. After all, I do tend to have disturbing dreams.”

  “Well, let’s let Matt search the house just in case. But I hope you were just dreaming.” Heather shuddered. “I would never want to see what you saw, asleep or awake.”

  Matt returned and announced that it didn’t seem as if anyone had entered the house, as far as he could tell. I told him I must have just made a mistake, that I had allowed my nightmares to get the better of me again. It took a while for me to convince him that I was mentally stable enough to go to school, but finally he conceded.

  Matt and Heather left the room so that I could take a shower. After swimming in my own sweat for a night, I really needed one.

  I let the cold water run over my face and imagined it cleansing me of my madness. I checked my body over for bruises, cuts, any evidence that would support what I had seen last night. I found nothing. I growled into the stream of water in frustration. I had completely overreacted. I was losing it.

  After I was done getting ready, I slipped out of the house with a frozen waffle in my mouth. I stopped in front of the gate and tapped on the solid iron bars before undoing the lock. I couldn’t really see anyone climbing over that mountain of metal. I shook my head at myself.

  “You’re late for school, you know.”

  I turned around breathlessly. I was still on edge from last night. Adrian was behind me, looking the complete opposite of how I felt. He grinned at me like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

  “Your bad habits must be rubbing off on me.” I frowned at him. I was surprised at how relieved I was to see him, but I didn’t need him knowing that.

  Adrian scoffed and fiddled with a half-eaten apple in his hands. Damn, his healthy food was publicly shaming my waffle.

  “Breakfast?” I asked, pointing to the fruit. Had he been waiting out here for me? I swept my hair to one side of my shoulder in an attempt to make it look neater.

  Adrian chucked the apple over his fence and rubbed his hands together. “It was. Oh relax, Amber. It’s good for the pla-.” He froze all of a sudden and paled as if he had seen a ghost. My heart stopped.

  “What is it?” I asked. I looked over my shoulder, searching for what he might have seen… until I realized he was staring at me. “Adrian…?”

  Adrian blinked and his expression cleared. “Nothing. It was nothing. Your necklace, is that new?” His hand shook slightly as he gestured to it.

  I had decided to wear my mother’s necklace to school that morning. Having a small piece of her with me just seemed to make me feel safer.

  “It was my mother’s.” I gently pulled on the little orb around my neck.

  “Where did she get it?” Adrian questioned. His tone seemed unusually serious.

  “She said it was a family heirloom.” I shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

  The charm cast gold reflections in his pale blue eyes. “May I?”

  I had never seen a boy demonstrate so much interest in my jewelry before, but I didn’t judge, so I just said, “Sure.”

  Before I could remove the chain from around my neck, he stepped directly in front of me and took the charm in his hands. I had never been this close to him before, and I could hear him breathing. Unlike most other boys, he didn’t smell like he had doused himself in cologne as a substitute for taking a shower. Instead, he smelled pleasantly of pine needles and night air.

  “Remarkable,” he whispered, his eyes fixated on the necklace, while my eyes were fixated on him. He gently let the necklace fall back to my chest and backed away. “You should ask your mother how your family came into possession of such a trinket.”

  My breath caught in my throat. We had reached the conversation-killer, the red zone wrapped with caution tape. I didn’t feel as if I could outright lie to him without him knowing it, so I used my go-to euphemism.

  “She’s… no longer with us,” I explained.

  “Ah, I see. I’m sorry,” Adrian said quietly. Unlike other overly inquisitive people, he didn’t tack on a nosy “how?” He looked genuinely sad for me.

  “But living with my brother is great,” I said brightly, trying to revive the flatlined conversation.

  “You have a sister too, don’t you? Sometimes I see her when she returns from school.”

  “Uh oh, you better not be stalking my sister too.” I raised my eyebrows and pursed my lips.

  Adrian chuckled. “Of course not. Do you know how much time it takes to stalk one person, much less two?”

  “No, I tend to have more healthy proclivities, like painting and sculpting and reading and – oh shit, my English class!” I gasped. I looked down at my watch. I had already missed all of first period. “I’ve got to go.”

  I bit my lip and looked up at Adrian. I didn’t really want to leave. Damn this kid and his bad influence.

  “You get so anxious when you’re running late,” Adrian observed with an amused look. Actually, I was anxious mostly because of him, but I was never going to tell him that. “Oh and, by the way, you may want to keep that in a less conspicuous place.” Adrian pointed at my necklace, and I stared back, not understanding what he meant. “Just my opinion, since I’ve heard that things of value tend to get stolen quite often at Pierce High.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks?” His advice caught me a little off guard.

  I waved and walked down the street, taking extra caution not to trip or do something embarrassing. When I felt that I had walked far enough to be out of Adrian’s line of sight, I looked at my mother’s necklace and sighed. I slipped it off my neck and tucked it into my innermost coat pocket before breaking into a full sprint.

  Chapter Nine

  The next two weeks went by painfully slowly.

  Lately Matt had been in annoyingly high spirits, as if he were keeping a secret that was just too great for anyone else to know. I strongly suspected he was dating someone.

  Also, I hadn’t seen any more scary creatures lurking about in my room. Yet I couldn’t shake the nervous certainty that someone was watching me. I had been more jumpy lately, or, as Heather preferred to put it, more paranoid. The worst part was that I couldn’t even talk to Dylan about it since he hadn’t been answering his phone much, which was making me worried and miserable.

  Perhaps that was the reason I thought I glimpsed his messy caramel-colored hair in the hallway one morning.

  “I still haven’t finished my social studies essay,” Alexis huffed as we made our way to English. She, I had learned by now, had a serious problem with procrastination. “I don’t have the slightest clue what Zoroastrianism is, do you? Amber? Amber? Earth to Amber.” Alexis stopped and tapped her foot expectantly.

  “What?” I turned back to her. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.” My eyes combed through the sea of students, searching for anyone who looked remotely like Dylan.

  “Well, what did you write about? Your essays are always better than mi-”

  “Sorry, Alexis, but I have something I need to do.” I shot her an apol
ogetic look. “You should ask Spencer, though. He might be able to help!” I took off in pursuit of my Dylan imposter. But I never saw him again, and I ended up on the wrong wing of the school when the bell signaling the beginning of class rang.

  “Amber, glad to see you could make it,” my English teacher remarked when she caught me tiptoeing into the classroom.

  I smiled weakly in defeat.

  “Slept in again, I take it?”

  “Something like that.” Since Adrian had made a habit of waiting for me in front of my house in the mornings and afternoons, I had been late to school more than once. And, as much as I hated to admit it, those tended to be the high points of my days.

  I took my seat and removed my copy of The Count of Monte Cristo from my bag. In front of me, Alexis rapidly moved her pen across her paper in a furious race to finish her social studies essay. I felt bad about abandoning her in the hallway, so I took out my history notes and scrawled “sorry” in the margin before discreetly passing them to her. Hopefully they would help.

  ***

  “I’ve got a game coming up at Moore Stadium,” Spencer said from the seat next to me while we made a pitiful effort to pretend to work on the math homework. Ms. Garner was out for the day, and our elderly substitute had fallen asleep at her desk. The class was pretty much free to do whatever it wanted. The elation in the air was practically tangible.

  “Are you nervous?” I was watching Alexis, who had moved to the back corner of the room so she could concentrate on her essay.

  “Nah,” Spencer said with confidence. “I don’t think we’ll lose this one. The team’s been practicing all month.”

  “Err, what sport is it you play again?” I asked meekly. I thought he had mentioned it once or twice before, but I must not have been paying attention.

  Spencer was visibly flabbergasted. “Only the best sport, of course.”

  “Baseball…?” I tried tentatively.

  “Wrong season. Try again.”

  “Football?”

  “Again.” Spencer crossed his arms.

  “Volleyball,” I said exasperatedly. My knowledge of sports was severely limited.