Track 17

“Rumour Has It”

Present Day

The next day, my head pounds with every step I take along the linoleum halls. I’d gone through my morning classes like a ghost. Not interacting. Not reacting.

I didn’t see Hayden till after second period. He totally blew me off, sidestepping into the chem lab without so much as a hello. Just a hasty wave, and he was gone. My texts to him went unanswered, too.

Is it possible he’s avoiding me because he also realized we missed a few hours of our lives? If that’s the case, wouldn’t he want to talk to me about it and figure out what the hell happened?

I follow Lisa and her girlfriend Billie into the cafeteria, and dump a salad and water onto my tray. After I shake off this nausea, I plan to do some Jane research in the library, make a few calls. Corner Hayden.

My brain throbs just thinking about my to-do list. Could Angie be right? Am I trying to fill some void?

I dismiss that idea right away, along with a feeling of fear that pops up occasionally. Fear of not being able to finish what I start.

“Weather balloons, my ass. They’ve been using that excuse since Roswell. Can’t they think of a more creative explanation?” Shaking her head, Billie scrolls through something on her phone. She rolls up the sleeves of her oversized charcoal-gray sweater and sighs in exasperation as they slide back down again. Her black jeans, in contrast, cling to every curve. A skull-print headband holds a riot of curly brown hair away from her face.

The cloying smell of congealed mac and cheese on her plate permeates the air and mingles with Lisa’s vegan “not” dogs. I crack open my water bottle and chug to wash my nausea away.

Looking over Billie’s shoulder, Lisa says, “I heard it was just kids playing with lasers.”

“What do you think, Cassidy?” Billie thrusts her phone under my nose.

I squint at shaky footage. Pinpricks of white light dance in a video. “What exactly am I looking at?”

“Ah, wouldn’t we all like to know?” Lisa says.

“It’s a UFO. Or UFOs, plural. Clearly.” Billie takes her phone back. She pushes aside her tray, bringing that oozing cheese mess closer to me. I fend off another wave of sickness. “They were seen over Bartlett last night. Didn’t you hear?”

I shake my head and drain the water bottle. My stomach is doing cartwheels and somersaults. All I can think about is the location of the nearest exit.

Billie goes on, her brown eyes lighting up. “You know, with the CIA and FBI and God knows what other black-ops government agency, they all know UFOs are real. Even air force pilots have made reports about sightings. Jimmy Carter’s on record about seeing a UFO, too. The authorities just deny, deny, deny.” She takes a bite out of her sandwich. “But…I heard the CIA is actually in on alien abductions.”

Eyes bulging, I say, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Not really.” She looks around to see if anyone’s listening in. “They’re covering up the abductions in exchange for alien technology.”

Angie scoffs. Today she’s dressed in maple-leaf crimson. She flicks crumbs off her pleated wool skirt. “Okay, that’s what I call a conspiracy theory. The government wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know?” Billie asks. “I hate to sound like some paranoid crackpot, but there’s a lot of stuff governments around the world don’t tell their citizens. Can you imagine what would happen if people knew the CIA was selling them out to aliens?”

“That can’t be true.” Angie frowns and starts picking at her food. “Remember what Lincoln said. A government for the people, by the people, et cetera, et cetera.”

Billie shrugs. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but the government’s made up of real people who aren’t necessarily in it for the greater good. Have you heard of Lewis Blake?”

We shake our heads.

“Totally nefarious guy. A senator. He’s actually from Colorado.” She leans forward, eyes bright. “One of my dad’s college buddies stayed with us for a few days. I kinda sorta eavesdropped on him telling a bunch of stories from his CIA intern days back in the eighties. This Blake guy was in charge of a project about mind control. Helping soldiers mentally block out torture in case they were captured or to prevent them from giving away army tactics. That kind of stuff,” Billie says. She reaches for my phone. “Let me look him up.”

“Um, what’s wrong with your own phone?” Lisa teases her as she winds her copper-colored hair into a lopsided bun.

“The battery’s dying,” she says, tapping my screen. “Turns out he messed up a lot of people by using the wrong techniques and not bringing people out of their trances the right way. There was an accident where an ex-soldier went on a rampage in the Bronx because he fully believed he was still fighting in the Vietnam War.”

Angie sighs. “God, that poor soldier.”

Billie gives my phone back to me and pokes at her lunch. “Ugh, can you imagine what aliens would think of the food standards here? This looks like smashed-up cerebral matter.”

“They probably eat dehydrated steak like NASA astronauts,” Lisa says. Her grin slips when she glances at me clutching my stomach. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” I shove my salad at Billie. “Here, all yours.”

I throw my bag over my shoulder and run to the restroom, ignoring my friends’ shouts of concern.

Later, I splash cool water on my hot cheeks. The reflection in the mirror shows purple shadows under my eyes, reminding me of Mom.

Is this how she felt in those last few days before she got help? Confused? Sick to her stomach? Aching all over?

Obviously, our situations are different. She was under enormous pressure from her work. And me? I don’t even know what happened for me to feel so muddled.

I scratch the insect bite from last night. It’s raised and red. There’s a tiny hole where the fucker sank its beak into my arm.

I tilt my head thoughtfully. Maybe I’ve caught a virus. West Nile or Lyme. I’m not even sure if those things are common in this part of Colorado.

My legs feel like columns of lead as I shuffle to a bench. The unforgiving steel gives me a chill. I tap out a message to Mom, knowing I shouldn’t hold my breath for a reply. She hasn’t responded to a hundred or so messages in months.

Minutes pass and I’m indeed glad I didn’t hold my breath. Although, if I stay in this restroom any longer, I might have to.

The bell rings right after I step out. Soon I’m engulfed in a crowd. Up ahead, I spy Lisa and Billie, strolling hand in hand out of the cafeteria to their next classes. The pounding in my head returns as a cacophony of different voices overwhelm me. A deep droning noise underlies them all.

At the other end of the hall are the main entrance doors. I’m there in seconds, looking out the glass at my car in the parking lot and the hazy mauve outline of Saddleback Ridge beyond.

Air. I need some fresh goddamn air.

And I need Mom.

With only the tiniest bit of guilt, I push through the doors and run before someone catches me.