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Her mom came into the room and, silencing the alarm clock, placed a hand on Isobel’s forehead. Against her skin, her mom’s hand felt like fire.
“Isobel,” her mom said again, “you look pale. You’re not getting sick again, are you?”
In the hall, Isobel could see yellow light draining out from the bathroom, and Danny’s partially open door.
No trees. No forest. No Reynolds.
26
Freak
“Central control to Cadet Lanley. Do you read me?”
By the time Isobel had reached her locker that morning, she’d come up with a neat and (for the most part) logical explanation for almost everything. The forest had come from Varen’s black-tree CD, the run through the woods had been her subconscious mind reliving her run through the park, and Reynolds . . . well, Reynolds probably had something to do with her dad.
Stick that all in a box labeled “bad dream,” tie it up with a dreaming about dreaming theory, and Isobel thought she had things pretty much figured out. Of course, the only thing she hadn’t been able to play connect the dots with had been the strange white light, the mysterious ghostly woman. Maybe, Isobel mused, it had been a metaphor for Lacy.
The locker beside hers slammed shut with a bang, causing Isobel to start.
“Yeah, hello,” Gwen said, circling a hand around in front of Isobel’s face, as though washing sludge from a window.
“What?” said Isobel. She pushed Gwen’s hand down.
“What my butt! Did you seriously not hear a single thing I just told you? I said, ‘Are you feeling okay?’ You’re all catatonic this morning. And you look a little washed-out.”
Isobel looked away, trying to hide her face behind the locker door. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just didn’t sleep very well.”
Overhead, first bell sounded.
“Hey,” Gwen said, still watching Isobel as though she were examining something in a petri dish. Then her concern softened and melted away, replaced by a wry smile. “Before I forget.” She held out a folded slip of paper with Isobel’s name printed across one side in deep purple lettering. “I only read it once, I swear.”
Isobel gasped and snatched up the note. “When did you see him?”
“Parking lot. This morning. You know, some of us have cars.”
“Don’t rub it in.” Isobel unfolded the note.
Can we meet after school? My house. No parents.
See you in Swanson’s class.
—V
Isobel’s heart thrummed, turning several loop-de-loops. His house?
She grinned, suppressing visions of the Addams Family mansion.
And no parents. No parents?
She reread that line again, suddenly realizing that the thought of being totally alone with him was more than just a little terrifying.
What word had her mother used? Experienced?
She refolded the note quickly.
It didn’t help to look up and see a grinning, brow-waggling Gwen. Isobel rolled her eyes and tucked the note away in her locker. Then, thinking better of it, she pushed the note into the right pocket of her jeans instead. She still hadn’t changed her combination, and it was definitely not a message she wanted Brad to see.
“Hey,” said Gwen, backing away to join the traffic of the crowded hall, “I’ll see you at lunch, okay? My delicate butterfly nature calls on me to table hop, so expect a visit. And don’t look so worried. It’s been my experience that the spooky ones usually know what they’re doing.” Gwen winked, then with a hand cupped around her mouth like a megaphone, called,
