Illumine (3 page)

"Once you get past that, I want you to open al the limbs.

Look at the muscle, the bone."

My fingernails were digging into the corner of the table. The

smel was growing sharper and more metalic with each

second.

"And, if you have time before the end, I want you to

explore the skul. Hel, if it interests you enough you can de-brain

the cat and take the skul home."

I couldn't take it anymore; I bolted from the classroom. In

the halway, I pressed myself against the cool wal of lockers,

swalowing 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

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 stal 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 al in the past.

Lead a normal life with colege, 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, al

while some creature stood behind me and puled the strings.

From the bottom of the stal I watched three pairs of feet

walk in, chatter of a party, make-up and other things filing 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.

"Al 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

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 stal 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 hel 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

"Whitley and his damn dissections," I sighed. "I was doing

so wel, 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 holow. 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 hel; 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 bels 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 hal 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 smal 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. Stil, it was a smal 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 al."

"You mean Leo's party?" I asked, recaling the

conversation moments before Whitley and his evil box came in.

Hesitation stained Thomas' green eyes. "Yeah, that's the

one," he finaly said. "Did he tel you?"

I nodded, recaling 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 swalowed 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 roled 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."

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 al

folowing 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 smal-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 filed the kitchen, swirls of white covering

the navy wals 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 halway. 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. "Wel, 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'l be fed for a day.

Teach him to cook and he'l be fed for life." He gave me his best

mocking face amidst the haze. "You're already looking a little

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'l cal." The number was on the fridge, scribbled on a

piece of yelow 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 caled it wasn't nearly as

traumatizing as it had been the last time we lived in it. Back when

Mom wandered the halways at night swearing her children were

possessed by the devil.

Jayson came over to the fridge, pan in his hand. "Realy,

Essie? You burnt eggs? Who burns eggs?"

I shrugged but laughed at his expression. "Your face tels

me I'm the first."

"You may very wel 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 smal table in the corner of the kitchen

chunks." Sitting down at the smal table in the corner of the kitchen

my eyes landed back on the History assignment I abandoned

originaly to a growling stomach. I realy 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'l

honestly never need to know any of the stuff they teach you in that

class. When are you realy going to need to know about people

looking like underweight animals?"

"Beats the hel out of me," I shrugged and chewed on the

end of my pencil eraser. "We also didn't need to fil our heads with

the Salem Witch Trials. Like the devil realy sat in those girl's

souls."

"But you have to admit the Crucible was a good movie,"

Jayson said. The doorbel went off and he went to fetch the pizza

while I recaled 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 cals in the next few hours." He shook his head.

"Kids, al 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."