Betwixt

Why had I put them on? They had been hidden in my jewelry box for months. My fingers had brushed over them as I was searching for my hoop earrings and I'd been compelled to slip them over my head and stuff them beneath my shirt. If I hadn't put them on, I wouldn't have thought of him and if he hadn’t been swimming around in the back of my brain, I wouldn't be in this situation.

Dale Fi

Dale Fi

Maybe you should call, Dale.

I grimace.

You know he'd come and collect you.

"No he wouldn't," I say to the air. "He hates me."

I frown.

Scarface.

The word sends a shudder through my system and I slam the door on my brain. It can just shut up right now.

I won't be calling Dale.

I reach into my bag and fish around for my phone. I stop in my tracks to have a better look, but with no light, the endeavor is hopeless. It looks like I won't be calling anyone. I grit my teeth and keep walking, picking up my pace as I round the corner. The wind whistles through my clothing again and I shiver. I should stop and put my jacket on, but I don't want to. If I just keep walking I won't have to stop and really analyze the crap I'm in.

My brain doesn't play fair and I analyze it anyway.

It's Tuesday night. Most normal sixteen year olds would be home in their beds having done their homework, watched a little TV, and said goodnight to their parents, but not me, right? I always have to do things differently.

I can feel my mouth pinching into a tight line as the simplicity and bliss of that kind of life feels a million miles away.

I shake my head.

"What am I talking about? My life rocks." I say the last word way too loud as I continue to convince myself. "I have just been at study group."

I laugh. Why did we even call it that? We never studied. It was basically Tuesday night party time. Matt's parents were out of town, so we had blasted the music and stood down by the lake goofing around and laughing until our bellies ached.

I grin as I picture the scene in my head - friends surrounding me, Trent's arm around my shoulders making me feel safe.

I wish his arms were around me now.

I cringe.

The second part of the night had not been so great.

I wrap my arms around myself and squeeze, trying to eradicate the memories, the look of a

Stupid jerk!

Who needs him?

I ignore the "you do" in the back of my mind and sniff. Lifting my head, I pick up my pace again as I enter a dark patch of road. The trees loom overhead and I try really hard not to think of ghosts and demons as my breath quickens.

The distant sound of an engine distracts me. The faint glow of headlights appear behind me and I smile. Trent feels guilty. Yes! Man, was I going to give him hell for this.

I glance behind me and disappointment sears my insides. The headlights are sitting way too low on the car to be Trent's. He drives a Jeep Cherokee, this car looks more like a sedan? Or maybe a sports car?

I toy with the idea of sticking out my thumb as it draws near. I'm sure it would be safe enough. I'd just ask for a lift to Big Bear Village then walk from there. No big deal. Maybe I could even ask for a ride to L.A.. The idea of ru

It fights to break free, but I won't let it. I even start filling my mind with every hitch hiking horror story I can think of. That works like a charm and my thumb relaxes into submission.

The car is cruising down the hill towards me when a sudden fear rips up my spine. I can see it swerving out of the corner of my eye and turn to watch its erratic movements. I move to the very edge of the road, my boots pushing piles of dirt and stone off the edge of the embankment. My legs hit the guardrail. With eyes the size of di

I turn to make an escape, but it's too late.

The headlights illuminate my body for a second, before the car violently swerves away, but not before clipping me. Pain sears through my body and I scream as I'm thrown over the guardrail.

It's like being in a tumble drier as I roll down the hill, scratching myself on pinecones and nature's debris. My descent comes to an abrupt end as I crash into a tree trunk. A loud crack rings like a gun shot inside my head, rattling my brain. I roll away from the tree with a groan and reach for my temple then scream as pain radiates up my arm. My stomach jerks and I feel its contents shifting north. I cover my mouth, but it's pointless.

Out of breath, I try to shift away from my puke, but moving hurts too much. I lay back on the bumpy earth and look up at the sky. The stars are fuzzy and shifting wildly. I blink to bring them into focus, but that just makes it worse. I feel as though the world is falling on top of me. As the stars and treetops come crashing down I hear a young girl scream my name.

"NICKY!"

CHAPTER TWO

"Nicky!"

I open my eyes.

"Nicky!!"

I turn on my pillow and look at my bedside clock.

"Nicky! It's time to get up! You'll be late for school."

The time registers and I sit up, adrenaline pumping through my system. I hate being late for anything. I go to jump off my bed, but let out a groan instead. My head feels like it's filled with sludge and someone is using my brain as a bass drum.

"Nicky?" My mother opens the door without knocking and peers inside.

I hate it when she does that.

I give her a stony glare.

"Mom, I've asked you to call me Nicole. It's what you put on my birth certificate, remember?"

My mother looks at me on the bed and rolls her eyes. Shaking her head she walks out the door without saying a word.

Typical.

I want to yell at her to come back and at least respond, but I can't. I want to scream at her for ignoring all the issues, but I never will. This is my life. I remind myself, yet again, that I'll get used to it... won't I?

Unable to ignore my headache, I slowly stand, trying to remember what I did last night. I think I was with Pe

I look back at my clock. WED-SEPT-18.

School.

I have school... which I am about to be really late for.

Looking down, I notice I am already dressed. I slept in my clothes? That is too weird. I never do that kind of thing. What time did I get home? How did I get home?

I grab my bag, which had slept on the bed beside me, and rummage through it. Pulling out my small hand mirror, I quickly check my appearance. My hair looks a little ratty. I grab my small brush and tidy it up. Pulling out my gloss, I make my lips shine then smack them together. I still look a little pale and my mascara is starting to slide, making the dark circles beneath my eyes look even worse. I lick my index finger and tidy them up.

Glancing at my bedside clock, I decide I don't have time for much more. I pull my long bangs down to cover my left eye a little then poof up the back of my thick hair. Time won't allow me perfection this morning.

I actually hate that, but I'd rather look a tad scruffy than be late.