Glimpse (6 page)

Becky was in seventh grade and in a different school, so the fact that she knew anything about my… episode… stunned me. “How did you…?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Jasmine, of course.”

Jasmine was Colin's sister and every bit as annoying as Becky. I'd be talking to Colin about keeping his mouth shut around his sister when I next saw him.

Becky forked another chunk of pancake into her mouth. “Apparently, Colin thinks you're
possessed
.” She nodded toward the newspaper. “I told her you're just a big wimp, but now I think maybe you
are
possessed. It's not like you to be brave.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

A car door slammed in the driveway and Becky jumped to her feet. She grabbed my plate, tipped the last couple of pancakes from her plate to mine, and shoved it back at me. She was at the kitchen sink looking very pleased when my parents walked through the backdoor, each carrying a pile of newspapers.

“Oh, you're up,” my mom said. She put her stack on the counter and walked over to give me a hug. “And I see you're well into your birthday breakfast.”

“
My
birthday breakfast?”

“See, Jonathan,” she added, looking toward my dad. “And you thought Becky might try to eat it.”

I glared across the kitchen at my sister. “But she—”

“How many of those papers can you possibly need?” Becky interrupted as a crooked smile inched across her lips. When it came to sibling rivalry, my sister was no slouch. I vowed revenge.

My dad held up a copy of the
Gazette
. “You read the article, right, champ?”

“Um… yeah, Dad. I read it.”

“You saved that man's life, Dean,” he said. “I wouldn't be surprised if you get a medal.”

“Whoa, whoa,” I said. “Just slow down. I didn't save anyone. In fact, the article says the man's still in the hospital. And just so there's no confusion, all I did was call 911. No, I didn't even do that, I just held my wallet to my ear. That's it.” My mom made a gesture like she wanted to speak, but I cut her off. “Thank you for the breakfast, Mom. It was delicious. But please, when my friends come here tonight, don't make a big deal of this whole hero nonsense.” I knew Colin would probably already make a big enough deal of the whole thing on his own. He didn't need help.

I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair and made for the door, pausing to add, “And don't make a big deal about my birthday either, okay?”

My dad laughed. “Modesty. I like that.”

“Me too,” my mom said. “I'll pick you and your friends up after school.”

“No, it's okay. I think we'll walk, or we might take the bus into town.”

“You'll call when you decide, right?”

“Jeez, Mom. Yes, I'll call.”

I looked across the kitchen. Becky pointed at me and started rocking an imaginary baby in her arms as she mouthed the word “pathetic.”

“Nice hair, Becky,” I called as I reached for the door. I heard a loud growl and the stomping of feet before the door shut behind me.
This could shape up to be a good day
, I thought.

Boy, was I wrong.

 

Colin and Lisa were waiting at my locker when I got to school.

“What's the deal?” Colin held up a cut-out of the article from the
Gazette
's front page. “You never told us this was the reason you were late on Friday.”

“Yeah, Dean. Why didn't you say something?” Lisa added.

“I was a bit preoccupied, what with all the hallucinations.”

“Yeah, but now your hallucinations make sense,” Lisa said.

“They do?” Colin looked confused, and I was pretty sure my expression matched his exactly.

“Stress,” she said. “Stress can make people see things. You had to fight off a couple of murderous thugs. I'd say that qualifies as stressful.”

“I fought off murderous thugs?” I looked at Colin and then back to Lisa. “Where did you get the idea that I fought anyone? It doesn't even say that in the paper.”

“It says you stopped them,” Lisa said. “And your face was all bruised up, so I figured you must've—”

Before Lisa could finish, Eric Feldman's nasally voice came from behind me. “Well, if it isn't our resident hero.”

I spun around, sick of Eric's teasing and ready to face the little twerp. But as soon as I saw Rodney, I recoiled. Perhaps because Eric's oversized goon was wearing all black and seemed really pale, or perhaps because he'd always looked a bit zombie-like but I'd never really noticed before… for whatever reason, I thought I was having another hallucination. My heart hammering, I turned slowly to my friends. “Do you see him?” My voice was a whisper.

Lisa stepped beside me and placed her hand on my arm. Colin cringed visibly as he mouthed, “Dude.”

“Of course they see him, you wacko.” Eric gave Rodney a jab. “I told you he was nuts.”

Rodney always looked a bit puzzled. I was pretty sure he was so angry because he was confused all the time. But as he scratched the side of his stubbly face and glared down at me, he looked even more puzzled than usual. I wondered if I looked confused too, or just scared. It was tough to decide which feeling I should focus on.

“C'mon, Rodney,” Eric said. “We have shop class. Besides, if you keep looking at Dean, I think he might just wet himself.”

Rodney laughed and lunged at Colin just enough to make him flinch. Then Rodney slouched his way down the hall after Eric.

“Are you okay?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, dude,” Colin said as he watched Rodney round the corner. “What's going on?”

“Something's happening to me,” I muttered.

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked.

I stood up and pulled my friends into an alcove at the end of the block of lockers. “Last Friday,” I began, “I was running late…”

 

***

 

I told them everything: what happened in the alley, the first two hallucinations, Mrs. Farnsworthy, and even Mr. Utlet.

“
Glimpse?
” Lisa asked. “That's what the guy who got attacked said to you? Just
glimpse
, and that's it?”

“In the attackee's defense,” Colin said, smirking, “he had just gotten his butt kicked. I can see why he might not have been too chatty.”

“You think this is funny?” I asked. My hands were shaking, from fear mostly but from anger too. “I'm seeing things.” My voice lowered to a whisper. “I'm hallucinating some scary stuff. It looks real. Like they're…”

Colin and Lisa inched forward. “Like they're what?” Lisa prodded.

My voice dropped to a whisper. “Like these people were dying. Or maybe they are already dead and I am seeing their ghosts… which I know doesn't make much sense considering I saw Mrs. F and Mr. Utlet, and they're alive. I… I don't know how to explain it, but something's wrong with me. I'm barely keeping it together.”

Colin looked down at the floor and twisted his foot as if grinding a bug into the tile. “Sorry. You're right. Your hallucinations are not funny.” Then he looked at me. “So you help this guy, and then you start hallucinating? Do you think he did something to you?”

“Besides splattering blood all over my shirt?”

“Gross,” Lisa said.

“Yeah, that is sorta gross,” Colin said. “But I mean, are you sure he didn't mutter something else besides
glimpse
? A chant, perhaps?”

Lisa and I looked at each other, then turned back to Colin and asked at the same time, “A chant?”

Colin looked determined. “Yeah, in the movies it's always a bunch of Latin that ends with the word
mortis
.” He leaned forward. “Did he say
mortis
?”

I turned to Lisa, who looked at least as confused as I felt, then back to Colin. “What the heck are you talking about?”

He threw up his hands. “A curse, obviously!”

“You think I'm cursed?”

“Don't you? I mean, if you were seeing people who were actually dead, I might think you had some kind of superpower, like maybe you could communicate with them or, better yet, command them to do stuff for you. They could even spy on people for you.” He smiled and sighed disappointedly. “But since you're just having messed up hallucinations about living people, it's a lot less cool and seems more like a curse.”

Lisa turned to me. “Didn't I tell you he watches too many movies?”

“I think I said that too,” I added dryly.

“I don't watch that many movies,” Colin defended. “It's not possible to watch
too many
movies.”

“Your mind just shoots straight to the most impossible explanation on its own?” Lisa asked. “You don't even consider things that actually make sense?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And, yeah, you can watch too many movies. You have a bigger movie library than Netflix.”

That was true. Colin did have a lot of movies, but you couldn't really blame him. His dad was a location scout for a movie production company, and his mom used to be an actress. So movies sort of ran in his family.

“He said
glimpse
,” I said. “That's it. I don't think that sounds much like a curse.”

Colin tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Lisa sighed. “Dean, don't listen to him. It's just stress—that's what makes the most sense. Your hallucinations started after you saw two men beating another man in the alley and then you got trampled at an electronics store. One of those things would have been enough to freak anyone out, Dean. Especially the beating. It freaked you out, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Dean, don't—” The morning bell cut her off. “We'll talk later, at lunch or on the way to your birthday party after school.”

“Oh, man, I'm sorry.” Colin put his hand on my shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “Maybe if I make a wish right now instead of waiting until I blow out the candles, the rest of my birthday will be insanity-free.”

“It's worth a try,” he said.

I forced a smile and headed to class. As I walked down the hallway, I closed my eyes for a brief second and muttered a single wish.
I just want everything to make sense
. I guess in the end I got what I wished for.

 

***

 

Mr. Woodward—or
Woody
, as he preferred to be called—was an ex-army sergeant who had served two tours of duty in Vietnam. He was also my English teacher. He had a slight limp, the result of a landmine incident that left his right side partially paralyzed. Still, he managed to stand ramrod straight and only hunched the slightest bit when he walked. Everything he said sounded like marching orders, and even though it might not have been true, it was widely believed that if you spoke out of turn in Woody's class, you'd wake up strapped to a metal bed frame with a couple car batteries wired to your nipples. With a rumor like that, you don't risk standing out. No matter who you are.

“Curse!” Woody barked when I entered the class.

“Yes, sir?”

“I understand you killed a couple muggers last Friday.”

The class gasped in unified shock and spun in their chairs to look at me.

“W… what? No, sir, I didn't kill any—”

“No matter, son. They probably deserved it.” He placed one hand on his desk and leaned forward. “What did you use? A knife? A rock?” He looked down and flexed his fingers. “Or just your bare hands?”

“Sir, I wasn't even the one who called the—”

He held up his hand. “No, no. Better not say anything else. Let it die down a bit.” A smile threatened the corners of his mouth. “Don't want you saying anything that might be used against you, right?” He gave a curt nod. “Let's get started.”

I took my seat, a bit confused—which wasn't that odd in Woody's class—and cracked open my copy of
Macbeth
. Now, Shakespeare is tough enough to follow as it is. So if you ever find yourself having to listen to it read in the monotonous chant of a former military man, just forget about it.

Woody limped toward his desk. “
Macbeth
is William Shakespeare's shortest tragedy.”

The large desk in front of the room groaned as Woody sat on the front corner of it. “Act one, scene one: the play opens amidst thunder and lightning.”

Boom!

The class reacted with a unified start and all eyes shot to our teacher, whose gaze was now fixated on the door.
What was that?
I felt the building shake and wondered if Mr. Woodward had timed a special effect to wake up the class. Then the fire alarm sounded and people—both inside and outside the classroom—started screaming.

“
Hey!
” Woody shouted.

The screams in the classroom quieted, but I could still hear others in the hall.

“We don't panic. We've done this before. It's just like the drills.” He moved to the exit doors. “We walk quickly and quietly out the west exit.” His coal black eyes scanned the room. “Understand?”

The class began to move down the hall toward the exit. Students filed out from other classrooms and shuffled down the corridor while teachers barked orders. Everyone seemed to suck in a collective breath as smoke started to chase us like a rippling black snake.

I glanced over my shoulder as I followed Woody and my classmates. A black cloud billowed from the far end of the hall. Where was Lisa? And Colin? I tried to remember their schedules. What class did they have this period?

The black cloud moved closer. I turned back to Woody. He was at the exit, holding the door open and urging everyone to hurry. I started running just as a second explosion boomed through the hallway.

 

Black smoke billowed from the east wing of the school. The bits of broken glass that had managed to stay in the window frames reflected back the amber lights of emergency vehicles. Students scattered around the parking lot like startled birds.