Illumine Read online

  "Still," he said. "It's pretty cool. I'm sure you're not all that bad at the rest of it."

  I fought back a snort. "It's a little odd to start talking to your neighbor after six weeks of stone cold silence."

  "Happened in that vampire book."

  I was impressed he even knew what a book was, much less a popular novel. "That was because he wanted her blood. You just want me to move seats."

  "Actually I was trying to politely invite you to my house party I'm having tonight."

  I blinked. Part of me wondered if he had actually just said that or if I had hallucinated it. Turning back to my sketch I focused on shading the inside of the eye. "Sorry. Not really the people-person type."

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched him run his hand through his hair and frown. "We're having this big bonfire in my new backyard. S'mores and music. You sure?"

  He's trying to be nice, and I knew inwardly I should have accepted his invite and just decided not to show. But my bitter attitude was spreading like a germ. "I'll pass. Why come into the contact of alcohol and drunken handsy-horny boys when I can stay chaste and sober at home?" I turned my gaze to him and gave my best screw-off smile.

  Leo opened his mouth to talk when Mr. Whitley threw open the classroom door. He carried in a large brown box which he quickly dropped onto the nearest front table.

  "Alright, wake-up, shape-up, let's go. Mark stop texting and Leo if you keep that mouth open long enough a bird will make a nest in it. Or I'll make a nest for it and keep you outside in the courtyard." He shuffled behind his desk and after a quick role call went back to his box.

  "As you all know," he began. "This is Bio II. And unlike most of your teachers here, I aim to actually teach you something you will take with you into the big bad world out there. And today, we learn anatomy."

  I rolled my eyes. Anyone who thought a sixteen year old didn't know what humans had, anatomically speaking, was an idiot. I flipped open my sketchbook and went back to work.

  Mr. Whitley continued, "Over here in my pretty little cardboard box will be your projects for the day." He rustled inside the box and pulled something out in plastic. The girls in the front row squealed. "By dissecting a cat we can learn so much more of what rests inside of the corpse."

  My pencil broke.

  "When I give you your cat, it's going to come in a bag like this. You're going to open it at the top, pull out the cat, and using the tool sets in the back cabinets, you'll slice open the chest cavity to view all the major organs."

  The room began to spin. Flashes of torn flesh and smeared blood blotted out the classroom and the smell filled my nose.

  "Once you get past that, I want you to open all the limbs. Look at the muscle, the bone."

  My fingernails were digging into the corner of the table. The smell was growing sharper and more metallic with each second.

  "And, if you have time before the end, I want you to explore the skull. Hell, if it interests you enough you can de-brain the cat and take the skull home."

  I couldn't take it anymore; I bolted from the classroom. In the hallway, I pressed myself against the cool wall of lockers, swallowing repeatedly. Flashes of grinning white teeth decorated in candy-red blood forced themselves to the front of my brain. Laughter danced in my ears.

  I opened my eyes. The demon stood before me, holding Chase's glistening spine in one hand. His eyes never left mine as he trailed his tongue over the ridges of each disc. I clamped a hand over my mouth and sprinted for the nearest bathroom, making it just inside the stall before I lurched over the toilet and heaved.

  Only four months remained of my senior year and it looked like there wasn't a prayer in my direction. How could I focus in class when everything I saw connected to that night? Ever since the ritual I had been seeing the demon everywhere, not a hair out of place. He never did anything to me, just smiled and made sure to leave me screaming for my sanity. It wasn't exactly easy to explain to everyone that I saw an imaginary creature holding chunks of my dead ex-boyfriend to play with like jump rope.

  I placed the toilet lid down and sat atop it, knees hugging to my chest. It had been nearly six weeks since my last vision-attack. Part of me had been hoping I could put it all in the past. Lead a normal life with college, boyfriends, the things a 17-year-old should be focusing on. Instead, I was spending my time avoiding anything remotely triggering and barely passing school, all while some creature stood behind me and pulled the strings.

  From the bottom of the stall I watched three pairs of feet walk in, chatter of a party, make-up and other things filling the silence, giggling as they went about their conversation. How easy it would be if the only thing I had to worry about was the zit forming on my forehead, or if I was going to dress up for spirit week.

  "All of you, out," someone said from the door. A pair of feet dressed in imitation-destroyed Doc Martens walked in. "That means leave. If I need to offer a definition just imagine what your Daddy did to Mommy when he found out she was a gold-digger."

  Silence. One of the original three muttered something under her breath before half-shoving through the door. The Doc Martens stopped in front of my stall and knocked twice, paused, then knocked twice more.

  "Occupied," I said.

  "I know it's occupied you twit, they sent me to find you. Open the door," she snapped. One of her feet began to tap impatiently.

  "What if I'm naked?"

  "Trust me honey, it's nothing I haven't seen. Artist, remember? I doodle nudes for the hell of it."

  I had to laugh at that. Only Abigail could make a joke about drawing a penis for a living and not snort. The latch came unhinged and the door swung open.

  Abigail may have only stood just shy of five feet, but she was known for being a talker-backer, a take-no-shit girl with wit to match tongue. Blemish-free ivory skin and dye-job crimson red hair only made her freakishly large almond-colored eyes stand out more. Today she sported one of her favorite outfit combinations; a floor-length peasant skirt and an oversized chunky grey sweater. An armful of bangles jingled against another as she placed her hands on her hips.

  "You look like shit, Essie," she said, eyeing me up and down. She extended a hand and helped me to my feet to brush off my clothes. "What was it this time?"

  "Whitley and his damn dissections," I sighed. "I was doing so well, too. So much for ditching the weird girl tag." One of the mirrors caught my eye as we walked out. The girl that stared back looked hollow. Parchment white skin blending with a pixie crop of honey blonde hair and brown eyes that looked like bottomless pits. I looked nothing like the smiling girl that used to stare back at me before everything went to hell; no make-up to frame the eyes, no blush to bring life to my cheeks. It was only fair I looked as I felt.

  Abigail steered me away from the mirrors and out of the bathroom. Class bells chimed overhead, signaling the end of fourth period. "Good, lunch. You need the break."

  I stared at her. "Do I look that bad?"

  She didn't miss a beat. "Absolutely. Cross combo of starving Ethiopian and abandoned puppy."

  "Please, don't sugar coat it for my benefit," I said with a glare. We turned right and passed through the main hall to cross into the Cafeteria. Abigail's friends were already seated, munching over lunch and sketchbooks and textbooks.

  "I'm heading up for food. You want something?" she asked. I shook my head. No point in trying to risk eating after losing breakfast to the toilet bowl.

  I took my seat at the table silently, offering a small smile to anyone who looked up at me. Most of Abigail's friends kept to themselves, preferring to act like I was more of a temporary cinch in their lives than a future graduating peer. Still, it was a small step up from rejected outcast like the rest of the district had offered me.

  Abigail set her tray down and took the seat alongside me. "I miss anything good in History, Thomas?"

  The slender boy across the table looked up and shook his head, his chestnut brown hair moving in waves. "Hart bumped back the project to
next Tuesday." His eyes darted to my face for a moment before returning to her. "Guess we've got time for the party after all."

  "You mean Leo's party?" I asked, recalling the conversation moments before Whitley and his evil box came in.

  Hesitation stained Thomas' green eyes. "Yeah, that's the one," he finally said. "Did he tell you?"

  I nodded, recalling Leo's pearly whites and perfectly pressed varsity jacket. "In Biology. Just before I had the pleasure of seeing what a hairless dead cat looks like."

  He snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching up. "Whitley was never known to be a man of sensitivity."

  Abigail swallowed a bite of her french toast before raising an eyebrow at me. "Excuse me, but when did Leonard ask you to this party? Did his girlfriend say anything?"

  "Pay attention. I said this morning. And his girlfriend was too busy looking like she wanted to rip my face off and use it to wipe her new designer shoes to say anything," I shrugged. I took Abigail's water bottle and took a sip. "No biggie."

  "No biggie, please. You think he just asks everyone to his parties?" She rolled her eyes and took back the water bottle to take a swig. "Thomas only heard through the ever-infamous social grapevine. You'd best go. Maybe if they saw you outside of school you could lose your weird girl association."

  I shook my head. "I'm a reformed party-goer. Besides, I have a feeling if I showed up I'd end a lot like Carrie did."

  Abigail shrugged her shoulders and finished her last bite of lunch. "Suit yourself." She stood up and took her tray, the others all following suit.

  The rest of the day went by without a hitch. If you count ducking every question and insult thrown my way. As I stepped on the bus and watched us leave, I caught sight of Leo kissing his girlfriend, my stomach clenching. There was no way I would belong at his party, or anyone's party for that matter. The entire school was so grossly perfect in their own way that it sickened me to the core. Going would only exaggerate the awkwardness and further prove how little I fit into their small-town life.

  If only I'd said that about the last party I'd been to.

  T H R E E

  I was pretty sure the disaster in front of me was going to make it on one of Jayson's Top Ten Worst Moments to Trust Me With Cooking. Smoke filled the kitchen, swirls of white covering the navy walls and stainless steel counter tops. I looked in distaste at the pile of half-burnt, half-raw eggs hissing in the frying pan.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Jayson poked his head around the corner, coughing vigorously. "What in God's green Earth are you doing, Essie?"

  I turned around and started into the clouded space, doing my best not to cough. "Making dinner?"

  He sighed and stepped into the kitchen, taking the wash towel off my shoulder. With a window over the sink cracked open he fanned the smoke outside. "Well, one thing's for sure. You definitely have Mom's inability to cook down pat."

  "Funny," I sneered and placed the burnt pan into the sink. The cold water only added more smoke to the air but I ignored it. "Better to not know how to cook than to sound like her." I watched him blush as his jaw hardened.

  "Excuse me, little sis, but don't you remember how the saying goes?"

  "Sticks and stones can break my bones-"

  His head shook. "Give a man a meal, he'll be fed for a day. Teach him to cook and he'll be fed for life." He gave me his best mocking face amidst the haze. "You're already looking a little peaky there."

  I sighed and shut off the water, twisting the knob until it felt like it'd never budge again. "Truce and order pizza?"

  "Thought you'd never ask."

  I could feel the grin slipping on my lips before I even realized it. "I'll call." The number was on the fridge, scribbled on a piece of yellow construction paper with blue sharpie.

  It had been easier than I thought it would be to get along with my half-brother than I had expected. Abigail had given me tips the first month of school, little pieces of information on him I had used like gold nuggets. Surprisingly, it hadn't been hard to stick to his no-party lifestyle and eat bowls of cereal in front of the fish tank in the middle of the night out of boredom. He had made sure returning to the House of Horrors as we called it wasn't nearly as traumatizing as it had been the last time we lived in it. Back when Mom wandered the hallways at night swearing her children were possessed by the devil.

  Jayson came over to the fridge, pan in his hand. "Really, Essie? You burnt eggs? Who burns eggs?"

  I shrugged but laughed at his expression. "Your face tells me I'm the first."

  "You may very well be in the history of humanity." He put the pan back in the sink and turned around to lean against the counter. "Pizza on the way?"

  "Yep. Twenty minutes until we're stuffing our faces with slices of cheesy saucy bread littered in mushroom and pineapple chunks." Sitting down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen my eyes landed back on the History assignment I abandoned originally to a growling stomach. I really wasn't looking forward to answering about the Holocaust and WWII when I had already covered it in 9th grade in NYC.

  Jayson peered over the table at my paper load. "You'll honestly never need to know any of the stuff they teach you in that class. When are you really going to need to know about people looking like underweight animals?"

  "Beats the hell out of me," I shrugged and chewed on the end of my pencil eraser. "We also didn't need to fill our heads with the Salem Witch Trials. Like the devil really sat in those girl's souls."

  "But you have to admit the Crucible was a good movie," Jayson said. The doorbell went off and he went to fetch the pizza while I recalled Winona Rider's face, crying that everyone was a witch and trafficked with the devil.

  Jayson came back into the kitchen pizza box in hand, an amused expression on his face. "That Walker kid sure had ants in his pants. Something about a party down the way that he can go to if no one else calls in the next few hours." He shook his head. "Kids, all about the local kegger."

  I bit the inside of my cheek and kept my eyes to my homework. "I think I know what party he's going to."

  "Oh?" Jayson opened the pizza box and grabbed the largest slice, biting into it like a steak. "Who's hosting?"

  "The Skripper kid, Leo," I said, the morning replaying in my head. "Didn't mention any kegs, though."

  "You know better," he got out between bites. "Any High School party is going to have some kind of alcohol, be it from the parent's cabinet or paying off the local brewer for a few sets. Isn't that what they did in New York?"

  I practically snorted. "Not even close." You didn't have to bribe anyone to get your hands on a bottle of whiskey in the city. All you had to do was find a homeless guy looking for a couple extra bucks and maybe a bottle or two of whatever you were having. Unless you had an older friend in college who'd take off with half the supply from every party they hit coming to yours. That was the easiest way to get a mix of everything.

  I looked up from my homework to see Jayson thoughtfully chewing. Better to strike while the iron was still hot. "What if I had wanted to go?"

  "Mmf fanfwer mmmf shhtill me fuf," he sputtered. I shook my head until he swallowed and repeated. "The answer would still be no."

  Of course not. It didn't matter if I was smart, neurotic, or even mentally insane, he wouldn't budge.

  "It's for your own good, really," he said in a low tone. Another slice found its way for his mouth.

  "Really?" I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise, the words jumping off my tongue, ready to condemn me on the spot. "Because socializing with my peers isn't for my good, not at all. Where'd you read that, Jayson? The back of a cereal box?"

  "Actually your grandparents," he snapped, bits of mushroom sputtering from his lips. He forced another mouthful down before he spoke. "Don't look so surprised. They told me all about having to get you from a party a week after the in-"

  I felt the color drain from my face. Shaking I stood up, pushing my papers into a pile. Slick palms made it impossible. "Great. W
ho the hell else knows, who? The principal, the shrink, the whole damn student body?" No wonder I was avoided like the plague, everyone was too busy swapping horror stories of my mental breakdown behind my back.

  "That's not what I meant, Essallie," he said. He placed a hand on top of mine as I jerked back. "They just don't want to see your hurt. You're in a difficult place, we get that. But I don't want to have to come get you in the middle of the night because of some unforeseen trigger."

  "You're impossible," I snarled and shoved the chair into the table. "Did you ever think all of this, this place, these people, the ever-elusive House of Horrors, all of it is one giant trigger waiting to happen?" I threw my hands in the air. "Maybe they should have just locked me up. At least I wouldn't have to look at all of this anymore."

  "Essallie," Jayson rose from his chair, sorrow in his eyes. "Please."

  "No Jayson. You had your chance, just like Mom. We all had our chance to be normal." I headed for the door, stopping only to look over my shoulder. Jayson was still standing there, watching, waiting maybe for me to run back into his arms and become the sister he wanted, become the siblings we should have been all those years ago. "Guess I'm more than Mom than you knew, right down to the asylum-worthy behavior."

  Bedroom door shut and locked, I stared ahead at the far wall from the door. The same peach colored walls with cream molding trim and lace curtains stared back at me like they had all those years ago. If I closed my eyes I could almost make out the sane little girl I once was, hiding from a mother that had become drastically unstable.

  Lights came through the window over my desk, the faint sound of an engine turning on hitting my ears. I walked across the room and pulled back the curtains watching Jayson pull out of the driveway and leave. I bit my lip and reached for my cell phone, his number third on speed dial. But what would I say to him? I'm sorry I'm mentally unstable? Sorry you got stuck with me because someone tried using me as bait for an evil I can't point out without being locked away?

  I hit the first button. It picked up on the second ring.