Juvie, Anyone?
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In the dream, I'm running through the woods, stumbling, searching for him. He needs me. Mom and Dad will be wondering where I am. I don't want to scare them.
Yet, that didn't stop me from sneaking out to meet him. Maybe he can finally tell me his name?
I listen for his voice as I rush up the steps behind our house. He calls.
Jemma. Come, Jemma.
A high-pitched scream bursts from the woods. A girl's. A little girl's, like mine. It sounds like my best friend, Molly. We always meet in the woods. Especially, when her parents start hitting her. She must be in trouble.
Stumbling on the steps, I reach the top and tear into the forest. The moonlight brightens the ground the way the nightlight in my room illuminates my bedroom carpet. I slip on something slick, a liquid that the shadows hide.
"Jemmmmm-a." I whip around and find Molly. She's standing in front of a large tree, dark splotches covering her pajamas.
"Molly, are you okay?" I want to ask her what's on the front of her PJs, but I'm too afraid.
"Get out. Get out of the woods, Jemma, before it's too late." Her voice sounds stilted, like she can't move her mouth all the way.
I shake my head. "Why? We love these woods. The boy—"
"He's a monster," she says. As soon as she speaks the word ‘monster,’ the limbs of the tree behind her wrap around her in a hug. She cries out. It's pulling her, crushing her against it. "Help! Jemma, please!"
Her words trickle to my ears, but I can't turn away, I can't stop watching. The tree is drawing Molly inside of it. It's soaking her up like a sponge absorbs water. Her cries turn to shrieks, then dull. She's disappearing right before my eyes and I can't stop it. I don't know how. My best friend is fading away. I almost can't see her, then I don't. She's become part of the tree.
Slipping again, I realize what I'm standing on. Blood. There's blood everywhere. So much blood. I start screaming.
Something rips me from my nightmare and I jerk to a sitting position. Owen's shaking me with his right hand, concern written on his face. His left grips the steering wheel of a car I don't recognize. "Jemma. Jemma, wake up. It was just a dream." That's when I realize we're tearing down the highway.
Memories slam into my brain at once: the library, The Book of Trees, Owen, the tree warrior with the claw attacking me.
And then those I've just recalled. A sob escapes me. Molly. The trees killed Molly. I'd forgotten. How could I forget something like that? And I almost went with that thing back at the library. Would she have killed me like she killed my best friend? Molly was only a kid.
A panic-stricken look rises up on Owen's face. "Are you okay? Why are you crying?" As if getting almost murdered by a random woman who can turn into a tree isn't reason enough.
"It's none of your business." I mutter the words, wiping at my eyes. Still, maybe it is his business? After all, Owen says he knows things.
"Well, it's your call Cookie Monster." He reaches over and gives the blue stripe of hair on my head a tug. His fingers graze my forehead, sending a jolt of awareness through me.
I jerk away. "Don't call me that and don't touch me. What was all that icy air stuff about back there?"
He shakes his head. “Like I’d tell you.”
“Well, you should. You're the jerk who acted all rude in the coffee shop and then kidnapped me from my job.” Then I get a good look at the speedometer. "What the hell? You're going one hundred miles per hour?" I sound all parenty—like I'm doing an impression of Mom or something.
"In case you hadn't noticed, we're in a hurry." He punches the gas. "I'm glad you woke up. Do you know how heavy you are when you're all passed out and limp? I could barely carry you." He smirks.
"Whose fault is that? What right do you have to give me an attitude? Who are you? Some government agent with a secret paralytic breathing thingy?"
He laughs. "A ‘secret paralytic breathing thingy’? That's awesome. You're clearly a brainiac."
"You need to explain yourself."
Owen grits his teeth. "There's no time. Not if you want to survive."
"Don't you think I deserve answers?" I ask, gripping the arm rest on the door.
He sighs. "Yeah, but not here. For now, we keep moving."
As I stare out the window, I can’t help but remember the tree warrior coming for me at the library. The image of her claw will haunt me forever. Thick patches of trees flank the road here, swaying back and forth in a menacing dance. Is it my imagination, or are they threatening me? It’s probably just the wind making them sway.
Jemma...Jemma, come to me...you miss me...
Oh my God. He's calling to me, again. My heart seems to be trying to beat its way out of my chest. He's somewhere close and wants me to come to him. A deep ache spreads in my belly. How will I survive if I can't reach him?
A small bead of longing slides down the back of my throat. I need to get back to the boy. He'll be waiting.
No. I shake my head, trying to clear those thoughts from it. I don't want to think them, because a larger part of me knows they're not my own.
"Where are we?" Must find him. I need to find him. We're going too far away.
I clutch the door handle. It's cool, smooth to the touch. I need to go. To find the boy. I'll pull the door handle and then...
Owen touches my arm and the sickness slides off of me, like it was never there. I glance down. Why was I going to open the door? I search Owen's profile.
"Look, now that your boy's on the loose, I thought it'd be better if I took you to my place."
Heat burns my face. I've never had a guy offer to take me to his place before. "What does that mean? Why would you want to take me there? Do you—" Then it hits me. "I don't even know you. I'm not sleeping with you." I mutter the words.
"What?" His eyes are wide and he drops his hand. "I'm taking you there to protect you, not for sex. Besides, if I wanted that from you, you'd know."
My throat closes up as he says the word ‘sex’. Holy crap. My entire face is on fire. "You can keep your wants to yourself. And he's not my boy."
"He seems to think you're his. You're the first person he sought out when he got free. At least I was able to get my hands on this car."
Jemma...I need you, Jemma...
My legs shake, nausea creeps up again. Oh, if only I could go to him. Everything would be better. I need to get out, to get back to him. I need to see him. I swallow and reach for the handle on the door, but that's not right. I try and push past my own confusion and focus on what's happening around me.
"Did you just steal this car?"
His eyes widen. "What did you want me to do? I took the ‘L’ this morning. That wasn't going to cut it for a fast getaway."
I search the interior. It's lush, expensive. I read the words on the steering wheel. "You stole a Porsche? What the hell? Way to be inconspicuous."
"I wasn't going for inconspicuous. I was going for speed."
"Well, way to think that out. The speed part is the one thing that's going to get us pulled over."
I puff out my cheeks and remember doing the same in the booth with Shaz yesterday. What if I never see her again? What about my parents? What does Owen have planned for me? He claims to be saving me, but...
As if on cue, sirens begin wailing. Three cop cars speed into view behind us, lights flashing. "Shit!" Owen puts his foot on the gas and the needle on the speedometer sails upward.
There's a jerk, a pulling inside of me. One I can't control. I need to get out of this car and soon. He needs me.
Jemmmmaaaaa....
I let out a whimper. Wait a minute. Maybe I could just fall out of the car and let the police pick me up? Maybe they'd take me to him? My boy.
Something slams down on the roof. Owen jams his foot on the brakes, resulting in a combination of squealing tires and burning rubber. A tree branch rolls down the windshield and off of the dented hood of the Porsche. This is my chance.
I shove the door open and launch myself out. I do my best to tuck and roll, but as soon as I hit the cold, hard ground I realize my flee tactics have resulted in a seriously uncomfortable escape.
And what exactly am I escaping to? Something better? Or something infinitely worse?