Cold Fire [SAMPLE]

[22]

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I’m pretty sure I know why everyone is gawking at her. She looks just like me with her pale skin, plus she’s wearing black shorts with a black strappy shirt. It’s definitely not uniform and there’s not a single goose bump on her bare skin. The people closest to her lean back, trying to keep their distance.

Does she remember me? I ask myself. But of course she remembers me. Why else would she have held my gaze so long? And why else would she be here?

Out the corner of my eye, I see Caden, his head whipping back and forth between Sarah and me, but for the most part, I ignore him, listening to the thoughts spinning around inside my head like they’re drunk.

They found Sarah. The council found her.

Why did they bring her here? What were they thinking?

Then: What do I do? Should I approach her?

I know I have to do something – I can’t just stand here like I’m brain dead – but what? What do I do?

I’ve been standing like this too long now to act like it’s nothing but I’m scared to talk to her. What if she’s changed? What if the people who have been watching me are watching now? As if on cue, the hair on my arms stands up and a tingling sensation comes to life at the back of my neck. A voice in my mind tells me to sit down and another voice tells me to get the hell out of here. Someone is calling my name, others are simply staring at me and the only thing I can think to do is stare back.

The more time that passes, the more eyes that look my way, but I’m not noticing them. I’m noticing the sun beating down, a steady heat that cause sweat to break out at my hairline, and a bird screeching as it soars through the air above my head. I’m picking up on the details: the smell of a tuna sandwich, the buzzing phone in someone’s pocket, the crack in the wall behind Sarah, the wind brushing my skin.

 “Melissa!” Lauren’s voice finally reaches me and the details are lost. I see a crowd of people, hear an ocean of undistinguishable sounds, and smell nothing.

In the few seconds after Lauren speaks, my body makes up my mind for me and I sit back down, aiming to look as casual as possible. But nothing I do now can change the fact that I’ve just spent god-knows-how-long staring into space like I’m insane, so I expect the stares that Lauren’s group hurl my way – the stares that seem to say are you on crack or just plain retarded?

“What was that?” Lauren asks, looking at me like I’m crazy.

I don’t bother with making stuff up. “I – I know that girl over there. We were friends when I was young. I haven’t seen her in forever.”

Lauren frowns but doesn’t say anything. Opposite me, Kira pipes up, “Are you alright?” but I can’t tell whether she’s genuinely concerned that there’s something wrong with me or if she’s just being nice in asking. Either way, I find I don’t know what to say back. I can still feel Sarah’s presence; like a heavy stone resting on my vital organs, the fact that she’s standing here, in this school, and I’m not doing anything about it manages to make breathing harder and ignites a pain in my chest that shouldn’t be there.

“I’m fine,” I say in the end. It’s the most common lie there is, and yet people fall for it every day, again and again and again like young children: way too trusting and way too believing. They’re goldfish with ten seconds memories; they’re dogs blindly trusting their owners, never opening their eyes to the fact that not everyone is honest, and not everyone is bad at lying.