Chapter Two

Gasping, I sat up in bed and drew a thin blanket up to my shaking body. The dream had come again. For the past two nights I had dreamed of the strange girl. Each night the dream began again, adding a little more each time. Every night revealed more of the helpless child’s story. Child, I thought, she’s looks like she’s the same age as me. At fifteen, I had never experienced anything as horrible as what the poor girl faced in my dreams.

The night the first dream came, I had woken with my heart racing. I had seen the girl drug from her house, bound, and carried away from her family. Her screams echoed in my mind as I sat in bed, willing my speeding pulse to calm down. I passed the first dream off as a nightmare, just another reaction to stress. When the dream continued the next night, the real fear started to seep in.

The only thing that remained constant in the dreams was the immense terror I awoke with every night. I was gripped with the girl’s awful fear. The haunting look of desperate horror in the young girl’s face pulled at my soul, begging me for rescue. I watched with pity and anger that I could do nothing to ease her fear.

I awoke that third night, so fearful that I could not force myself to close my eyes again. I feared slipping back into the dream and having to feel such desperate pain once again. Lying in my bed, I watched the curtains sway in the breeze, seeking something familiar and innocent. Slowly my mind and body came back to my own time. The haunting faces disappeared, letting me escape into a welcome and dreamless sleep. Resting in the stillness of my own mind, I swam in the blackness until awakened by the familiar warmth of the sun.

As dawn’s orange shadows fell across the unfamiliar floor, I slowly opened my eyes and blinked away the last traces of the dream. The beige carpet and neutral toned walls immediately made me grimace. I was not yet used to waking up in a room I did not recognize as my own. Nearly a week ago I had moved from my former life of popularity in Manhattan, to a painfully, mind-numbingly boring little town in rural New York, hours away from anything.

I loved city life. The constant noise and activity of living on an island filled with one and a half million people was invigorating. Every day held the promise of something new for me, but for my parents, every day held new dangers. My parents made the decision to move from our stylish Manhattan apartment to escape the violence and crime, as well as to be closer to my aging grandfather.

Seven long hours from New York City, Grainer was the absolute opposite of what a town should be. With a population of less than fifteen hundred people, Grainer had fewer stores in the entire town than Manhattan held in a single block. I hated everything about the town. The first few days had been miserable, but ever since the dreams had started I had become increasingly convinced that the move was even more of a terrible choice than I had realized and longed to go back.

Holding my misery close to my heart, I crawled out of bed and picked my way between unopened boxes on my way to the bathroom. I tugged a pair of denim shorts and an off white linen peasant top from my still packed suitcase as I stumbled along. The rest of the house was slowly being put away, but my room looked the same as it had when the boxes and bags had been first unloaded a week ago. It was a worthless attempt at protest.

The bathroom floor was surprisingly neat. I had not left it like that the night before. I sighed, knowing that my mother must have snuck in after I had fallen asleep and cleaned up the piles of dirty clothes. My mother was desperately trying to make the transition to my new home town as painless as possible. I felt a small measure of guilt at my obstinate behavior, but not enough to give in.

I had made my opinion on the move very clear to my parents. In the end, their fears had outweighed my objections. The apartment was packed up within a month of the decision and one by one the boxes and furniture were carried down to the waiting moving van. I sat in the room that would no longer be my own and cried. The worst part of moving was being alone. I left all of my friends in Manhattan. My only ally, my brother David, stayed behind, ready to start college in the fall. Now, I was alone, alone in my own home.

The night of the first dream had been the first night I had not woken up crying because of the move. I had suddenly found a new source of fear. Hoping to scorch away thought, I turned on the shower until the streams of water were hot enough to make me wince. I stepped in and let the dull pain clear my mind. As I showered, I rinsed away the unsettling feelings the dream had left me. Everything else remained.

I ached for someone to know as I finished my shower and stood brushing my hair in front of the foggy bathroom mirror. My silver-green eyes sparkled in contrast to my thick black hair. As I stared at my own face in the mirror, it suddenly changed into the face of the raven-haired girl from her dream, blurred by sacrificial paint. The stranger’s eyes held fear and blinked away burning tears.

I reached up to brush the tears away, only to find my face completely dry. I blinked, my eyes opening to find only my own face, clean and almond colored, staring back at me. I drew back from the mirror, fearful that the face would return. Shivering despite the warm misty air that surrounded me, I quickly left the room.

I had woken up so early that neither of my parents were awake by the time I left the bathroom. The stillness of the house made it seem safe enough to leave my room. I would have at least a few hours of peace before my mother continued her relentless battle to force me into loving my new life. I wandered into the box strewn living room and pulled a book off the top of a stack of boxes.

I was more into blogging and video chatting than reading, but that was something left behind in Manhattan for the time being. The book I held had been opened out of pure boredom my second day in Grainer. Surprisingly, I had blown through the first half of the novel in just a few days. I had no idea where the novel had come from, most likely another thoughtful gesture by my mom, but I was glad to have found it. Plunking down onto the couch, I sat down to read. Hours later, my mother wandered out of her room, fully dressed and ready for the day.

“You’re up early,” my mom commented.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“One of these days you’re going to have to get used to this place.” My mom sighed at my melancholy. “Arrabella, run down to the grocery store and pick up these things,” she said, “and I’ll make us some breakfast.” The list she handed me was written on one of the brand name medication notepads my dad often brought home from his office. Her perfect handwriting was nothing like my dad’s hurried script.

“I’m fine with cereal,” I said.

“Well you don’t have to eat, but your father and I would like some breakfast. He starts his new job today in case you’ve forgotten. I won’t send him to work on an empty stomach, so go,” she said. Her voice had taken on the firm tone that I knew not to disobey.

Picking up the list as I dramatically rolled my eyes, I headed out into the morning sun. I did not want to do small town things like shopping in the neighborhood grocery store. I had always been more than happy to shop for groceries in Manhattan. I loved the street side stands and the hundreds of tiny specialty markets in Manhattan. There, I was free to wander about deciding what I wanted, moving from store to store until I had everything on my list. I loved the endless variety of the markets.

If the small store in this town did not have the items I was looking for, too bad, it was the only grocery store there was. How primitive, I thought. I was not a small town girl.

The sign hanging above the grocery store entrance had been hand painted, and not in the trendy art deco style popular in retro art galleries. The store was small and quaint and disgusting. I plastered a disapproving grimace on my face as I walked in. Scowling at the rows of products, I quickly gathered the items on my mother’s list. Checking the last item off, I walked the short twenty steps to the checkout counter.

The cashier was a girl not more than a year older than me. She greeted me with a smile and began scanning my items. At least they’re not completely backwards here, I thought when I saw the electronic scanner. In my fog of self-pity and dislike, I half expected the cashier to pull out a pencil and calculator. The happy chirp of the flashing red scanner deepened my scowl.

“You’re new in town, right?” the cashier asked.

I wondered if her lopsided smile had anything to do with my sour expression.

“Yeah,” I said. Aren’t small towns great, I thought in my most sarcastic inner voice.

“It’s not so bad here,” she said. “Most of us go down to the beach on the weekends to hang out during the summers. If the weather’s alright this Saturday, we’ll all be there for a bonfire.”

“Who’s most of us?”

“The high school kids, mostly just juniors and seniors.”

“Are there more than just you and me?” I asked. From the size of the town, I would have been surprised to find out that our graduating class consisted of more than five students.

“Of course,” the girl said. Her laugh said she was not surprised by my reaction. “It’s not that small of a town. My name’s Dani, by the way.”

“I’m Arra.” I watched Dani put the last of my groceries in a plastic bag. Her friendly smile made me feel a little less alone. I was suddenly looking for a reason to stay at the counter a little longer. “So there’s a bonfire at the beach this weekend?”

Dani nodded. “You’re more than welcome to come if you want.”

Back in Manhattan I spent most weekends out with friends, but I was strangely nervous to accept her invitation. I did not want to care what anyone in Grainer thought of me, but it seemed unnatural not to care at least a little. “I don’t think I even remember how to get to the beach,” I said. “It’s been a few years.”

“Just head east out of town. You’ll eventually run into it. There’s pretty much nothing between here and the coast,” Dani said. “If you think you’ll get lost, you can always just stop back by the store and I can show you how to get there.”

The frown I had been trying so hard to hold onto softened into a smile. At least that was one good thing about Grainer. The beach was close and usually pretty empty. “Thanks Dani. I’ll definitely think about it.” I walked out of the store, my steps less sluggish than before.