Pure (Book 1, Pure Series) (3 page)

Chapter 2.

I was awakened in the morning by the harsh, persistent beep of my alarm.
 
After I shut it off, I sat up and brushed my hair away from my face.
 
My dreams were still fogging my mind.
 
And there had been something in them – the same strange longing that called to me every night now.
 
This was the first time I had felt it in my sleep.

           
I frowned.
 
There was something else that was different.

           
There had been a presence – a shadow of a figure.

           
Someone had invaded my dreams.
 
I was sure of it.

           
I shook my head.
 
That was a crazy way to think.
 
I forced myself to think of school.
 
I still had my quiz in English.
 
And I would see Simon.
 
Just being around him always helped to calm my nerves.

           
I got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom.
 
I was feeling tired after my too eventful night.
 
My eyes were burning, and they felt puffy, probably because of the crying I'd done last night, and I swayed around dizzily as I reached the bathroom and switched on the light.

           
I turned on the tap in the sink, letting the water run, and splashed my face several times with cold water.
 
I'd hoped the water would make me feel more awake, but instead it just made me shiver, and the water as it streamed down the drain sounded unnaturally loud.

           
I placed my hands on either side of the sink and let my head fall forward, my hair swinging down on either side of my face like a curtain.
 
I took a few deep breaths.

           
After a moment, I felt better, and I swept my hair back with one hand and looked into the mirror.

           
My face was a little paler than usual, but I really didn't look too bad.
 
I pressed a hand to my forehead and then to my cheek.
 
My skin was cool.
 
I was pretty sure I wasn't sick.
 
That was reassuring at least.

           
My eyes looked just a little puffy, and as I leaned closer to examine them, I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye.
 
Some instinct made me turn around quickly, but there was nothing behind me but a towel rack.

           
I dismissed the flicker as a trick played by my tired eyes.
 
I turned back to the mirror.

           
As I leaned close to the mirror again, I saw another flicker of movement.
 
This time the flicker grew and coalesced into a dark shadow as tall as a man.
 
I blinked several times and squinted at the shadow in the mirror.
 
It was definitely standing behind me.
 
I felt a brief stab of alarm as I turned and looked over my shoulder.

           
As before, nothing was there.

           
I turned back to the mirror.
 
The shadow was still there.
 
I leaned closer.
 
The shadow began to grow thicker and more substantial.
 
Suddenly, there was a man standing behind me.
 
I could see him quite clearly over my shoulder – black hair, blue eyes, a handsome face set into harsh lines.
 
The look in his eyes was dangerous.

           
A flash of panic ran through me, and I spun around, bracing my hands behind me on the sink.

           
No one was there.

           
I hurried out of the bathroom.

           
I ran down the hall, intending to find GM, but I stopped myself at the top of the stairs.
 
If I told GM that I was seeing things in the mirror, she would say that I was letting my mind play tricks on me after all the strange things the visitors had said last night.
 
Would GM be right about that?
 
I decided I was being silly.
 
I took a deep breath and went back to the bathroom.

           
Warily, I peered into the mirror.
 
The glass reflected only my own face and the towel rack behind me.
 
I leaned closer to the mirror, keeping my eyes fixed on the area over my shoulder.
 
Several long moments passed.
 
Nothing strange appeared in the mirror – no shadow, no man's face.

           
I straightened up in relief.
 
I had been imagining things.
 
What was wrong with me lately?
 
I knew I had to hurry or I would be late.
 
I quickly showered and dressed.

           
As I ran downstairs, I could smell cinnamon and sugar.
 
I wondered what was going on.
 
GM didn't usually approve of sweets.

           
I saw as I entered the kitchen that all traces of the confrontation from the night before had been swept away.
 
GM was busy buttering two slices of bread on a plate.
 
In the center of the table was a freshly baked loaf of bread.
 
There were golden-brown swirls in the cut section of the bread with little black specks dotting the swirls.

           
I couldn't help smiling.
 
GM had made cinnamon-raisin bread.
 
I was addicted to it – when I could get it.

           
GM looked up at me.
 
Sadness and anxiety flickered in her eyes.
 
She clearly felt bad about the scene with the visitors last night and was trying to make up for it.
 
I felt a rush of love for her – I knew she was always trying to do what was best for me.

           
I was sure now, too, that not mentioning the strange man I'd seen in the mirror was the right thing to do – I didn't want GM to feel any worse.

           
I walked around the table and gave GM a hug.

           
"Good morning, Solnyshko," GM said.
 
Solnyshko was her pet name for me – a Russian endearment meaning 'little sun.'
 
"Did you sleep well?"

           
Pushing all my fears aside, I smiled brightly.
 
"Yes, thanks.
 
How about you?"

           
GM relaxed visibly.
 
"Of course."
 
She waved the knife she held in a gesture of bravado.
 
"It is hard to disturb a mind like mine."

           
I leaned closer to the table to inhale the aroma from the bread.
 
"I see you were busy last night after I went to bed.
 
Did you make this for me?"

           
"Can there be any doubt?" GM asked gruffly, pushing the plate of buttered bread toward me.
 
"I knew it was your favorite."

           
"Thanks, GM."
 
I sat down at the table.

           
"I will pour you a glass of milk," GM announced firmly.
 
"I know you usually drink orange juice, but orange juice is no good with cinnamon raisin."

           
The milk soon appeared by my plate.

           
For her part, GM sat down and began cutting off two slices for herself.
 
Then she began poking raisins out of the bread with her knife.
 
GM had a strong aversion to raisins.
 
She only kept them in the house for me.

           
I reached for my glass, and as I did so, an image flashed before me of the man from the mirror.
 
I pulled my hand back, alarmed.

           
GM looked up at me.
 
"Is something wrong?"

           
"I-I – it's nothing."

           
"Are you sure?" GM asked, frowning.
 
"You looked frightened just now."

           
I took a deep breath and tried to appear normal.

           
"It's really nothing," I said.
 
I couldn't tell her what I'd seen – or what I'd imagined I'd seen.

           
I finished up breakfast quickly, putting my dishes in the dishwasher, and gave GM a peck on the cheek.
 
"Thanks again."

           
I hurried to pull on my coat and backpack.
 
Then I was out the door.

           
It was early October, just past my 16
^th
birthday, and there was a definite chill in the air.
 
I walked down the driveway past GM's bright red sports car, and against my better judgment, I paused and looked into the side mirror.
 
A black spot quickly began to appear over my shoulder.
 
Soon the spot spread and evened out, revealing a man's face – dark hair, light eyes, sharply defined features.

           
I cried out and spun around.
 
No one was standing behind me.
 
I looked back at the mirror.

           
The man's face was gone.

           
I was definitely cracking up.

           
I hurried down the driveway and turned onto the sidewalk to begin the walk to school.

           
I told myself not to panic.
 
Turn back into normal Katie
, I told myself.
 
Turn back into normal Katie
.
 
What would normal Katie think of?

           
I thought of the quiz in English – which I hadn't studied for as much as I would have liked, thanks to the distracting night calling.
 
And then there had been my troubled and insufficient sleep – that wasn't going to help my performance on the quiz, either.
 
Of course, Simon would say that I wouldn't need sleeping or studying in order to do well on a quiz.
 
He really was a good friend.

           
I felt a sudden strange tug on my heart as I thought of Simon.
 
Was there something wrong between the two of us?
 
I had a feeling that there was – but what it was exactly, I couldn't pin down.

           
I hurried on to school, feeling my spirits sinking steadily.

           
As I neared the fence that surrounded Elspeth's Grove High School, I spotted an African-American girl sitting on a picnic table, talking to a tall, Caucasian boy with unkempt brown hair.

           
I smiled when I saw them, and the girl noticed me and waved.
 
I was glad to see my friends, Charisse Graebel and Branden McKenna.
 
The sight of them made me feel normal again.
 
Somehow the two of them and crazy visions in mirrors didn't seem to belong to the same world.

           
I hurried into the schoolyard and walked up to them.

           
"Hey, Charisse.
 
Hey, Branden."

           
"Happy Monday," Branden replied gloomily.
 
"Welcome to the beginning of our prison sentence for the week."

           
"Ignore him, Katie," Charisse said.
 
"Are you ready for the quiz in English?"

           
I sighed heavily.
 
"Don't remind me.
 
I'm really not ready for it today."

           
Charisse smiled.
 
"Don't worry, over-achiever.
 
I'm sure you'll be fine."