I’M SURE I HAVE afternoon classes, but the only thing I can focus on is what happened in the cafeteria. Or what I think happened because I definitely have no idea what that was.
An Italian restaurant. A boy. A date.
Definitely a date. But… I don’t date. I haven’t dated. Any girl will tell you this school is practically undateable. So what, then. A fantasy? A daydream? But it felt so real.
Maybe I crossed over to another dimension?
“Alexandra,” the impatient voice of my teacher cuts into my thoughts. “You seem entirely engaged, so you must know the answer to this problem?” he points to a math problem on the white board, knowing that I am absolutely not engaged.
My face flushes. Math is not my strong suit.
“One hundred and seventeen.” Comes a tiny whisper from behind me.
“One hundred and seventeen.” I call out immediately, not even pausing to think if it even makes sense. And according to the lopsided frown on my teacher’s face, it doesn’t.
There are muffled chuckles as I sink further into my chair.
“Anyone else?” He looks around the room.
“Seventy-five,” Kimberly Marshall’s voice rings out behind me. Loud and confident. But there is no mistaking that voice, the same one that whispered the wrong answer into my ear.
I whip around in my chair and glare at her. Satisfied and proud of herself. What did I ever do to her?
“Wrong move, Marshall.” Kayla leans over from the next row, her teeth bared. Kimberly goes stiff, eyes locked on the board in front of us. My body relaxes. Kayla, my protector, strikes again.
I try to pay more attention as the lesson continues, but the distractions keep coming. I can’t stop thinking of that boy. Of the tattoo that ran up his arm. It was black and clearly had a design to it, but I didn’t see it clear enough to make it out.
A wad of crumpled up paper bounces lazily off the back of my head. It could be another trap, another opportunity to make fun of the new girl, but I bend down to grab it anyway. Smoothing out the page until there are loopy, perfectly handwritten letters laid out before me.
Whatsup with u?
Kayla’s handwriting. I glance over my shoulder to her watching me. She gestures to the note, telling me to write back. But how much time do we have? Writing out what’s going on with me will take more than this one piece of paper. It will take hours of discussion and analyzation and maybe even some medical professionals.
????????
Is what I end up with, tossing the crumpled ball over my shoulder onto Kayla’s desk across the aisle. I don’t need to look behind me to feel the disappointment coming off her in waves. Definitely not the answer she was hoping for. But it sums up exactly whatsup with me. I don’t know.
A moment later, there’s a tiny clonk on my shoulder again. The paper thrown back. I quickly grab it and unravel it.
Brian’s party Friday night will make it better.
No questions, no other concerns. Just another step to her end goal. Brian’s party.
I don’t bother to write back, scrunching up the paper in my fist and tossing it into my bag. There’s a dramatic sigh from behind me, but surprisingly, I don’t seem to care about disappointing her. For once, Kayla’s not the main focus of my day.
That boy is.
↟↟↟↟
The trees are haunted.
Okay, they aren’t literally haunted, but they may as well be. I can’t take two steps on my usual route home without being reminded of that eerie tattoo from my vision in the cafeteria.
Vision.
That’s what I’m calling it because it’s not a dream—I was awake. Or a memory—I didn’t recognize anything. Or déjà vu—wouldn’t that mean I knew the boy? And I definitely don’t know that boy. I would remember a boy like that.
The tattoo snapped into focus the minute I stepped into the forest. It was a line of trees running up along his arm. As clear as the trees in this forest. And the further I walk, the more each tree pokes me, running its branch fingers along my arm, unraveling more and more visions.
A muscular arm brushing up to the side of my face.
A hand slowly tucking my auburn hair behind my ear.
Welcomed heat where his skin touches mine.
I practically run through the woods the whole way home, trying to shake the visions. I burst through our front door to my mother sitting on the couch surrounded by papers. She looks up, slightly annoyed at the interruption, but quickly masks her reaction.
“Alexandra, are you okay? You seem out of breath. Did you run home?” she asks, as if the idea of me running is the most ridiculous thing she’s heard all day.
“Did you tell Headmaster Johnson to search Hannah’s locker?” I accuse, struggling to catch my breath. I throw my bag down at the front door and stomp toward the couch so that I’m towering over her.
“What are you talking about?” she says immediately, almost as if she were expecting this.
“They raided Hannah’s locker today, looking for books that aren’t part of our curriculum. Since when is it illegal to read books? Why would you do that?” I’m sweating, flustered. I want nothing more than for her to tell me I’m wrong, but when she does, I don’t believe her.
“Honey, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Here, sit.” She pats the empty couch beside her. “You’re all worked up. Tell me what this is all about.”
“Honestly, it’s been a weird day. A weird week. Forget it.” I turn to leave the room, but Mom’s voice pulls me back.
“Weird how?” She strains, struggling to keep it light and friendly. Her shoulders tense again.
“I’ve just… I don’t even know how to explain it. I’ve been having this weird déjà vu? Just small things, flashes of places and people?” I trail off, sucking in my breath and holding it. Mom is going to think I’m losing my mind.
“Flashes of people?” She asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she reaches for the glass on the table so her hands have something to hold to steady themselves.
The more I replay things in my mind, the more I see the boy and his tree tattoo, the more I’m convinced that I know it. But there was no face. As hard as I try to shift my mind’s eye up, I can’t focus on anything else. Because I don’t know him, obviously. This stranger from my visions. How can I put a face to a boy I’ve never met?
“Alexandra, are you okay?” Mom asks again, and I realize I haven’t given her any answers; I’ve just lost myself in my head.
I flush. “It’s nothing. I think I’m just overtired.”
“You have had a lot of catch up to do, starting last year so far into the semester. You’ve been working so hard. It sounds like everything is catching up to you.” Her words cut through the tension in the air, and I can breathe again.
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s what it is. I think I’ll go rest,” I say, turning quickly and taking off towards my room.
“You are nothing, can’t you see that?” Her voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“What?” I stutter, my heart beating a little faster. Did I hear that right? You are nothing.
“I said dinner’s in twenty, you okay with that?” She watches the confusion spread over my face. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you hear me?”
I mumble a response, my voice caught up in my thoughts. Did I mishear, or did she know exactly what she was saying? I have no effing idea. I kick off my shoes and head up to my room, slamming the door behind me.
I throw my bag onto the floor and flop down on my bed. Fire flares in me. I am so angry. So angry, but I’m not even sure why. Kayla would laugh and flippantly say something about redheads and their tempers. But this is more than a short fuse.
I grab my phone, tap into my girls WhatsApp chat, and start furiously typing.
Alexandra
I’m having such a weird night.
Kayla
Sounds rite for u
Hannah
What happened?
Alexandra
I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like I’m losing it.
Kayla
U already lost it
Hannah
Try? I might be able to help?
Alexandra
Well, my mom, for one. She was… almost mean? Not outright, but passive aggressively mean. Comments under her breath, judgmental glares. We’ve worked so hard to move past the accident, I’m not sure where this is coming from.
Kayla
Ur mum sux
Hannah
What she means is that your mom has always
been tough on you. You’ve just felt so guilty about
what has happened that you put up with it.
It sounds like you’re tired of putting up with it.
I grip the phone tightly. Has my mother always done this? I think I would notice the sly comments. She’s always been stubborn and strict, but supportive and looking out for my best interest. I’m not sure I see what they are talking about.
Alexandra Well, it was weird. And not just her, but I kept having these… visions?
Kayla
Tell me the lotto #s, bitch
Hannah
What are you seeing?
Alexandra
A boy…
Kayla
Alexandra wants the D!
Hannah is typing…
Kayla
Ugh, I’m bored! I’m out. L8R, whores.
Alexandra
see you tomorrow.
I toss my phone onto the bed, blood bubbling in my veins. This is typical Kayla, but she’s starting to piss me off. I’ve always just been happy to be in the same vicinity as her, grateful for what she’s done for me. But lately, she’s borderline insufferable.
I guess my mom’s not the only one I’m tired of putting up with.