Airel (7 page)

Chapter XIV

Monday. It was never a good word. The day that came along with it looked to be living up to its name. I looked at the clock. Two AM... great. I was lying in bed with my eyes open, unable to fall asleep. The cool night air drifted in through the crack I had left in the window and made me shiver. I pulled the covers tighter around my neck. 

Kim was in the guest bedroom, passed out. We had made up for lost time after all that movie theater craziness, watching nothing but girl movies all weekend and eating pizza and popcorn like—well, like a couple of football players, I guess. Maybe the only difference was the tissue, the tears, and the lack of a blue dart contest. Guys are seriously gross. 

All of these thoughts came to rest on Michael Alexander, inevitably. I had to face facts. I was pretty tangled up around the idea of him being in my life. And the romance—or the—well, I couldn’t say love yet, but whatever it was, it was putting down roots in my heart. I didn’t feel there was anything I could do about it, even if I wanted to. I was so anxious to find out what was going to happen between us that I was actively trying to shut up whatever alarm bells I heard in my head. Michael was perfect. For me, I mean. 

I don’t know if there’s the
one
out there for me. I always thought that idea was pretty corny anyway. So many of my friends were so hung up on their idea of the
one guy
that they were seriously having some issues with reality, just waiting to be found by destiny or whatever. I always thought that was pretty weak. I felt like I was meant for more than that. Like I was made to
be
more. I can’t explain it, I just knew it. I didn’t have any idea what part Michael might play in it, but I couldn’t help being drawn back to him in my heart and in my thoughts all the time. 

I could hear Kim snoring in the next room. I had to laugh at her. I was giving her a hard time for crying at one of those girl movies yesterday, and she chased me into the bathroom with a bowl of popcorn. It was then that I had noticed my skin. I was really starting to grow up into a woman... somebody lovely. It was amazing, really. I didn’t know if this was how it was supposed to go but I was really digging the results. My skin was clearing up and causing me to do a double take on myself in the mirror. It couldn’t be real.

None of it could be real. I mean, it almost made me angry, thinking about it. I couldn't get the events of the weekend out of my mind. It was like a bad movie that I couldn't help replaying over and over, no matter how much I hated it. I guess it was just another turn on the rollercoaster of my life for the past week or so. It was starting to get really crazy and if it kept up, I didn’t know what I might do. 

He looked right at me.
Talking to myself at two in the morning wasn’t helping things. The thought of that tall killer was creeping me out the more I thought about it. He had looked so composed, so massive, so calm. I shuddered. Then the thought of one person taking another person’s life had me thinking that I had to do something.
What are you going to do, go all ‘Detective Airel’
and hunt the killer down?
I didn't know what to do. I knew I should let the police do their job, but something deep inside of me wanted to get involved. 

The moon was full and made long scary shadows on the walls. There was a big oak tree right outside my window, and in the moonlight the shadows looked alive. I normally loved the moonlight. There was something soothing about it. Tonight, though, it wasn’t a good moon. It was somehow dark and had its own agenda. 

I rolled over and closed my eyes. I needed sleep. I had school in the morning, and if I was up all night I would be a zombie. I turned over onto my stomach and thought about math. Nothing like math to put you to sleep.
Boring, blah, blah, boring, nonsense, boring. I’m tired. I—Am—Tired. 

Crap. Tossing the covers off, I slipped into a warm pair of slippers, stole down the hall, and tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. It was almost as bright as day, moonlight splashing off the tile floor through the window. 

I opened the fridge and took out the milk carton, pouring myself a little mug and nuking it for 30 seconds. Mom used to make me warm milk like that when I couldn’t sleep as a kid. I sipped it slowly, trying to relax.

My pink pajama bottoms and brown t-shirt weren’t super warm. I shivered a little bit. The night air was cool... on the border of being cold. I hoped it might get me in the mood for sleep once I crawled back into my nice warm bed.

I was restless, though. I found myself wandering around the living room, looking out the front windows at the lawn. I took my little mug of milk and stepped to the front door, being careful to turn the deadbolt slowly so I didn't wake anyone else up. I slipped out onto the front porch, closed the door, and looked out over the neighborhood. 

It was so very quiet. Some sprinklers a few doors down hissed and popped up unexpectedly and I hugged myself, chilled by the night air. I finished my milk and left the mug on the porch rail. My thoughts turned back to my upcoming math test and I remembered that I left my backpack in the car. I walked down to it at the curb and tried the door.

Locked.

Great. Now math and homework all seemed like too much work.  I just needed to breathe, to calm myself. But walking around alone at night was like being in one of those stupid hacker movies. Some dumb blonde running around as a killer stalked her slowly. Not exactly real life. 

The neighborhood was quiet and most of the houses had their lights off, but I could see everything with the moon looking over my shoulder. My slippers made a smacking sound with each step and I thought of each house, how they had someone inside them sleeping. It made me feel alone, but I didn’t mind. I kinda liked that feeling sometimes. It was a little exciting, even, like I was cheating, being up and awake for a part of the night that most people slept right through.

I stopped. 

Something crashed in the alley in between the two houses to my right. I looked over into the dark alley and saw a glowing pair of eyes. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. I looked into the bright yellow eyes, a million thoughts running through my head, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end. A dark brown cat ran from the shadows and took off down the sidewalk.
Stupid cat!
It was weird. I had crouched down into my defensive stance.
Kickboxing’s really starting to pay off, Dad. No worries!

I was scared, and the more I tried to fight it the worse it was. I tried to calm down but couldn’t. Just like trying to sleep. Here I am taking a walk because math couldn’t make me sleep.
What next?
Now everything in the dark was scary and a hidden killer lurked behind every trashcan on the street. 

I started back to the house as my heart beat harder and harder.
Don't run! That will make it worse.
I took off running anyway. I was now completely terrified. I clamped my mouth shut, trying not to scream, when I saw a lone figure standing in front of my mailbox. 

I stopped instantly and looked with wide eyes at the man who stood in between me and the safety of my home. He had short, blond, hair and stood well over six feet tall, with a muscular build. He was wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans. My heart was in my ears. All I could think about was getting out of there. I turned the other way and ran, going past my next door neighbor’s house, stumbling over their sidewalk on the way. I ducked into their side yard and ran for the back.

Now I was petrified.

It was the same man from the theater. I was sure of it.
How did he find me? What did he want from me?
I thought I knew the answer to that, but couldn't bring myself to say it or even think it. I scrambled over my neighbor’s fence and ran across their backyard, circling around toward my house again. I stopped at the gate and quietly unlatched it. I could see part of my front yard through the crack. I had to get back inside my house where it was safe, but it wouldn’t be safe if the killer knew I was there. 

I had to get closer if I was going to be able to see anything. My house had the perfect shrub to hide behind. I got down low and crept out the gate along the side of my house, hugging it closely and squeezing behind a large evergreen shrub. I parted the branches to look out. I was safe enough as long as he didn't see me.
Airel, you are being reckless and putting your life in danger. What are you doing?
I peered out and looked around. 

He was gone. 

The mailbox sat with the door open and the flag up, but no one was around. I looked up the street and back down again. I couldn't see the killer anywhere. Was he hiding, just waiting for me to show myself? Then a horrible thought struck me.
He might be in the house.

I waited a few minutes and finally decided to risk it and make a dash for the front door. It was only a few feet from where I was hiding and even if he was waiting, I could probably out-run him. 

Taking a deep breath, I jumped up, ran to the front door, and burst inside, slamming the door. I couldn't believe I didn't wake anyone up with that racket. I looked around the kitchen and living room as I stood with my back against the front door, gasping, trying to catch my breath. 

Everything was quiet. I sank to the floor and put my face in my hands. I wanted to cry, but I was too mad to let it escape.
Who did this guy think he was? Coming to my house and scaring me to death. 

So much for going back to sleep. Then I heard the sound of footsteps on the porch. I scrambled to the island in the kitchen and ducked behind it. My heart beat in my ears and after a breathless minute I peered up and saw the shadow of a man looking in the window. 

I gasped and clamped my hand over my mouth. He didn’t see me and turned and walked away. I stood up and watched him walk down the sidewalk and disappear around the corner. The mailbox door stood open.

Chapter XV

The note was written in the most elegant cursive I’d ever seen, yet it chilled me to the bone.

I know what you are!

I stared down at it. I sat down on a bar stool heavily. What did it mean? I know
what
you are. Shouldn’t it say
who
you are—? The killer was leaving me notes and following me to my house and I was fully creeped out. 

What could I do, though? What would I do? 

I decided, for the moment, that I was overwhelmed enough to go back to bed. I was suddenly very tired. I trudged upstairs and plopped down onto my soft bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. As my body began to calm down and the bed began to warm up, I relaxed. I began to drift off to sleep, even as my mind raced with how to handle my bigger-than-life problems. 

I didn’t know who to talk to—the police? My dad? My mom?
What should I tell them?
Exactly how much could I reveal, even to my closest friends and family, without sounding totally insane, even to them? Could I tell the detectives about my stalker, the murderer? I mean, should I? 

What about this note, though, and what if they wanted to use it as evidence—what did that mean for me? And how exactly could I break any of this to my dad? He would totally flip out and run out to stock up on ammunition or something. That’s all I needed, for Dad to answer the door with a shotgun all the time. And what could I tell Mom—that I’m like, barfing all over the place, unexpectedly? 

My mind was finally starting to shut down, but not because I was ready for sleep. It was probably because I was in over my head and I knew it. My life had officially become berserk.

As far as I knew, the rest of the night was uneventful. I slept through the night and even had a nice dream about Michael Alexander. Nothing too weird, just about our afternoon at the mall and how he looked at me. He could look at me one minute like I was a science project and the next, I was beautiful. Did he like me, truly? Or was I some sort of sick dare that he had with his guy friends? “See if you can get that girl to like you,” or, “I dare you to get her to go to prom with you.” So juvenile.
 

A few short hours later I got out of bed. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I looked in the mirror to see if my skin had gone back to normal.
Nope.
Not that I was disappointed. I was beginning to like my new, airbrushed look. If this kept up I could be on the cover of
People
or something. Hopefully it wouldn’t be the
National Enquirer.
I guess I didn’t need to put on make-up today. I ran my hands through my wet hair after a shower, pulled it up, and twisted it into a messy bun. I found a #2 pencil, stuck it through the center of the bun, and smiled. Why not? City worker
chic.
Sweet.

Kim sauntered into the room and looked like she was the one who was up being harassed all night by a killer. Her red hair was off in crazy-land and the bags under her eyes had their own zip code. “Morning, hot stuff!” I said as she waved me off. 

“Shut-up! I need coffee and a bagel—in that order.” She dragged herself into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I looked at the clock.

“If you want coffee you’d better hurry.” We had less than a half hour to get to school. We had a hardnosed teacher in our first class together and cracking down hard on tardiness was a part of his motivational technique. 

On the way to school, I couldn’t help but tune out some of Kim’s chatter. It was like I was a magnet and the fridge I was drawn to was all this crap that was happening to me. My thoughts were so crazy that they seemed like they didn’t even belong to me half the time. 

Thank God for history class. Come on, like I cared what Chinese dynasty was what, or when they built the Great Wall. But this time I wasn’t thinking about how my jeans fit, or how Marcie should really not be wearing a 6, or if I would get asked to prom by Michael—and if he did ask me why was I so scared of the question? 

No, I was stuck with the face of a murderer looking up at me from a dark movie theater, the footsteps sounding on a hard tile floor, the echo that made him far scarier. I could have very well lost my life.

Or maybe I was just over-thinking again. It was almost painful to be this confused. Kim would have laughed and joked about that nonstop, if she would have heard me say it.

I looked for Michael, but he was not in school that day, as far as I could tell. I wondered if he was sick—maybe he had what I had, or what I was getting over—or if something worse had happened to him.
Airel. You’re acting like a lovesick headcase. Then again, maybe that’s exactly what’s happening here.

After school, I went right home. Dad’s orders. He had made it perfectly clear what he expected from me, until this killer was caught and locked up. No negotiation. Not that I was any good at it anyway. 

The sky had a large gray and black cloud hanging over part of my fair city, like a schoolyard bully waiting for the nerd to come around the corner so he could blow off a little steam. It smelled like rain and I didn’t care. Rain, snow—who cares. 

I was stuck at home until my own personal cloud passed over and my parents decided it was safe for dear little Airel to go out and play again. I was about to pull into my neighborhood when I felt that all-too-familiar feeling rise up in my chest.
Not again!

I pushed on the brakes just in time to throw my door open and lean out to lose my school lunch. Weird, it didn’t look much different then when it was served to me a few hours earlier.
That’s what a buck-fifty buys ya—it looks like barf. 

And with that, my mind was made up. Time to call the doctor. Doctor Gee had been my doctor since forever. He had white-blond hair and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I flipped open my phone and called his office. I hoped I could get in. It wasn’t flu season yet so I didn’t think it would be a problem.

“Doctor Gee’s office,” the chipper secretary said. 

“Yeah, Hi. This is Airel—”

“Airel, oh, how nice to hear from you!” She cut me off. I knew it was Mrs. Birch, a sweet woman who had been with the office for longer than I had been alive. “Are you feeling alright? Oh, that’s silly of me. You must not be or else you wouldn’t be calling.” 

“I’ve been pretty sick... ” I croaked, “and I was wondering if I could get in to see the doc.” I tried to sound happier then I was feeling, not that it mattered. She didn’t care if I muttered and complained about how I was feeling. 

“You know, we just had a no-show. If you like, he can see you right away. Can you be here in ten minutes?”

I was only five minutes away so I told her I would be there. I managed to hold in the next round of queasy feelings on the way over, and as soon as I pulled into the parking lot, I started to feel much better. Murphy’s Law, I guess. You feel sick until you get to the doctor’s office. Then, miracle of miracles, you’re healed.

Mrs. Birch’s mess of silvering hair was all 1982 and her glasses were tethered with a thin gold chain draped around her neck. She smiled and looked up at me as I came in.

“Oh, sweetie, come on back. He’s waiting for you. My, my! How you have changed…so beautiful!”

I blushed and turned my face away. “Thank you, but it’s just me…the same Airel as always.” She squeezed my shoulder and showed me into a small room with a table and a counter. In the corner next to the sink there was a jar of tongue depressors. 

“He'll be just one minute.” She smiled and closed the door, leaving me alone. I felt just a little scared, even though I was in my family doctor’s office. I went to the table and sat down, making the paper on the table crackle. My feet hung over the side and I felt like a little kid again. I sure hoped he could find out what was wrong with me. I didn’t know how much more of this weird sickness I could take.