“We’ve called your mother,” Dr. Peterson said. “Principal Roberts made the call. She’s asked that I meet with you, Sylvie, not just today, but for the next few weeks. She’s concerned about your behavior, how you’re handling the tragedy.”
Sylvie stared out the window. I really should have skipped school today. She turned back to Dr. Peterson. He’d taken his crooked clip-on tie off; the top button of his shirt was left open. He had too much gel in his slicked-back brown hair. “Well, I mean, my sister was just murdered last week,” Sylvie said. “Not to mention the fact that my father’s missing. The cops are useless. They’re too busy switching investigators and accusing my father than they are looking for him or the killer. I mean, how would you feel?”
“I understand,” Dr. Peterson said. “I would feel angry. Are you feeling angry?”
Sylvie looked him straight in the eye. “Do you know what Bruce said to me? Do you know why I pushed him?”
“Tell me,” Dr. Peterson urged.
“It doesn’t matter.” Sylvie crossed her arms. “Forget it.” She looked back out the window, seriously debated what would happen if she jumped out of it. She hated the way not one person—not Principal Roberts or Dr. Peterson—even thought to ask her why she’d attacked Bruce. They just shamed her about doing it.
Sylvie squinted her eyes and rubbed her temples. The headache she’d had on and off since the dance was back, and, worse, her vision was off. The sunshine gleamed off the cars in the parking lot outside, making it worse.
She looked away from the window and back at Dr. Peterson, except he didn’t look right, either. He looked wavy, like she was looking at a reflection of him in the ripples of a pond or a lake. Sylvie rubbed her eyes again.
“Sylvie?”
“Yeah?”
“I asked you if you’re okay. You look a little peaked.”
“I’m fine. I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Have you been sleeping?”
Sylvie didn’t answer. She eyed the wall behind him instead. It appeared to be fading in and out, as if it wasn’t solid, but transparent.
“Sylvie?”
“Yes, yes, sorry. I just, like I said, I’m exhausted.” She rubbed her eyes.
“I understand. You’ve been through a lot. I can imagine things are tough at home right now. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
Sylvie gripped the seat of her desk chair. The chair legs were uneven, making the chair wiggle every time she moved. It was not only annoying, but she was feeling dizzy now, too. She shut her eyes to center herself.
“Tell me something about yourself,” Dr. Peterson said. “Let’s talk about something other than what’s going on. Let’s talk about you. Tell me, who is Sylvie Mitchell?”
Sylvie opened her eyes and looked at Dr. Peterson. Was this guy serious? “Listen, Dr. Peterson, I appreciate everything you’re trying to do here, but really, I’m fine. You know? I don’t need to come here.” What I need is to get out of this room.
“Well, like I said, your mother thinks otherwise and has requested I speak with you. So here we are.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong with needing help, Sylvie. Lots of kids come to my office. It might be a surprise for you to find out how many, and just who they are.”
Sylvie made eye contact with him when he said this. It piqued her curiosity. Who else at Lowridge High spent their time sharing their woes with Dr. Peterson?
It was at this moment that the ground below her appeared to roll. It reminded her of when she’d been in first grade, and they’d all play parachute. She and her classmates—with their teacher’s help—would lift the giant parachute up into the air, waving it like a flag. She used to love to watch it roll like ocean waves as they yanked it up and down. But that was a parachute, not the ground itself. Dr. Peterson didn’t seem to notice any of it. He just kept sitting there, staring at Sylvie, waiting for her to pour her heart out.
“Dr. Peterson,” Sylvie finally said after a long pause. “I think I need the nurse. I’m not actually feeling so well.”
She stood up but lost her footing. The last thing she saw before she collapsed was Dr. Peterson’s concerned face fading into the depths of black.
“Sylvie?” a voice called. “Sylvie?” A tiny stream of light from a mini flashlight shined into her eyes.
Both Dr. Peterson and Ms. Jordan, the school nurse, stood over her.
“What happened?” Sylvie asked, confused. The room wasn’t spinning anymore, but her head still throbbed. She sat up.
“You passed out,” Ms. Jordan said. “Here.” She handed Sylvie a cup of ginger ale and a package of crackers. “Did you eat today?”
“I don’t remember,” Sylvie said.
“Well, have some of those,” Ms. Jordan nodded at the crackers.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Peterson asked.
Sylvie sipped the ginger ale. “Fine.” She’d lied; her heart was racing and both Dr. Peterson and Ms. Jordan’s faces looked blurry. “I’m fine,” she said again. Get yourself together, Sylvie. She took a swig of the ginger ale now, finishing it in one gulp, then she stood up.
“Hold on, don’t get up too quickly,” Dr. Peterson warned.
“Really, I’m fine. See?” Sylvie swung her backpack over her shoulder. “I just need to get to class.” She felt unsteady on her feet. She hoped they didn’t notice.
“Maybe you should go home,” Ms. Jordan said. “I’ll call your mother.”
“No,” Sylvie said, surprising herself. “It’s fine, really.” Mom had work, and she didn’t want her to lose her job.
“Thanks again,” Sylvie said. She set the cup down, then walked out the door and around the corner. The hallway was empty, as everyone was in class. The lockers looked like they were rolling, just like the floor had looked. She leaned against them, noticing the taste of metal in her mouth again. Heart racing, she took another deep breath. Except, this time, she didn’t collapse. Instead, the hallway spun, as if it was forming a tunnel.
The next thing she knew, she was home.
“Sylvie?” Sebastian stood over her, dressed in his school clothes, his red backpack still swung over his shoulders.
Sylvie could hear the high-pitched squeal of the bus brakes as it pulled away from the house.
Bailey stood over her, licking her face.
“Sebastian?” Sylvie sat up and pushed Bailey away. She looked around as she realized she was laying in the middle of their home hallway. How did I get here? It felt like only seconds before she’d been at school. “What time is it?”
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know. Just laying here, I guess,” she lied. She didn’t want to scare Sebastian. Was she going crazy?
“In the hallway?”
“What time is it?”
“It’s four o’clock. Why don’t you just look at the clock?” Sebastian asked.
Sylvie rubbed her eyes. “It’s four in the afternoon?”
“Well, duh, it’s not four in the morning. I mean, the sun’s out. You, okay?” Sebastian stared at her intently.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Totally. Totally fine.” She stood up. “How was school buddy?” Sylvie tried to act as normal as possible, but inside, she was trembling. When had she come home? More importantly, how had she gotten home? She tried to remember. All she could remember was passing out, leaving Dr. Peterson and the nurse in the office, and then leaning up against the lockers at school.
“It sucked,” Sebastian said. He knelt to pet Bailey.
“Sebastian! You can’t say ‘suck.’ You’re only eleven.”
“Well, there’s no other word for it. It did.”
The phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Sylvie said, running towards it. She wanted to make sure Sebastian didn’t get stuck answering, only to find it was a nosey reporter.
It wasn’t. It was Mom.
“Sylvie, what is going on?”
“What?”
“Look, don’t play games with me. I’ve only got five minutes to talk. Kai is working my assembly line for me right now and if I don’t get back, the both of us will get in trouble,” Mom said.
“Everything’s fine, Mom. Sebastian and I are here and—”
“I’m talking about school. First, you attack Bruce, then you walk out and skip all your afternoon classes? Principal Roberts called me just before I headed to work and said you’d disappeared. That you were with Dr. Peterson and then the nurse because you didn’t seem to feel well, but that you left them saying you were going back to class, but you never showed up. They almost called the police!”
Sylvie remembered the lockers rolling. She remembered the hallway and the way it’d looked like a tunnel. If she’d passed out, they would have found her. Why couldn’t she remember how she got here?
“I just… I didn’t feel good. So, I came home.” Sylvie didn’t know what else to say.
“Sylvie, I don’t want you roaming around town, walking home all by yourself. There’s a killer out there!”
“Well, I’m home alone now! I mean, what’s the difference if I walk home alone or I’m home alone?”
“You’re at home. The cops are watching the house.”
“Who? Officer Babyface?” Sylvie laughed at her own joke.
Bailey barked.
Sylvie grabbed a dog biscuit out of the jar on the kitchen counter and gave it to him.
“Sylvie, I don’t know what has gotten into you. We are all hurting here. But I need you to get it together. I have to go. Are you feeling all right? Is Sebastian… is he okay?”
Sylvie felt weak. She handed the phone to Sebastian.
“Hey, Mom, it’s Sebastian. We’re good. Uh-huh. Yup. Okay,” Sebastian said.
Sylvie opened the fridge and grabbed some orange juice, hoping it would help her feel better.
“Okay, Mom. All right.” Sebastian kept talking. “Okay, Mom. Love you, too.” Sebastian hung up the phone.
Sylvie reached for the cabinet to get a cup. She felt her head tense, her heart skip a beat. Why was everything so hard? She missed June. She wanted Dad. What if they never found the killer? What if he was still out there, waiting to come after them? How was she going to go back to school, deal with Bruce? Was Bruce the killer? Why was she feeling so sick? Why couldn’t she remember coming home? Ever since June died, nothing made sense.
“Sylvie!” Sebastian screamed.
Sylvie looked at him, his mouth was gaping open, his eyes wide.
What? She tried to say, but she couldn’t seem to say the words. All she could hear was Bailey barking, but even that seemed to fade away.
Sebastian stood; shocked. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He blinked his eyes and looked again. He pinched himself to be sure he wasn’t dreaming. But there was no denying it.
It happened just like that scene from his favorite movie, Back to the Future. Just like the part where the brother and sister disappear from Marty’s photo while he plays the guitar, waiting for their parents to kiss. Except this wasn’t a movie. It happened for real.
Sylvie disappeared right before his eyes.