Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [5]
“Not so fast!” He reached for me and missed.
Then reality sounded through the air like a steam engine’s whistle as it pulls into the station— only in our case, it was the whistle being blown by Brent’s instructor. “Brent! Break’s over,” he called from the water’s edge.
“Yes, sir.” He swam to the side and climbed up the ladder before asking, “See you tonight at the dance?”
I glanced at him over my shoulder with my best coquettish smile, and called, “Maybe.”
I didn’t get to notice his reaction or his reply because I submerged myself, totally overjoyed that he had brought up the dance. If I needed proof that Brent was into me, I now had it; that was definitely flirting.
When I resurfaced, Cherie and Steve were standing by our lounge chairs. I walked over to them, ringing out my wet sarong.
“We’re going to go for a walk. Want to come?” Steve asked a bit too politely.
I didn’t want to feel like a third wheel, so I shook my head. “I think I’ll go home and shower. You guys have fun.”
I made my way to my dorm, while sweat mingled with the chlorinated water dripping from my body. Thoughts I had been trying to keep at bay while with Brent refused to shrink back to the recesses of my mind. First I had seen a cloud of mist trying to strangle someone, then the pool turned my reoccurring nightmare into a near reality. With both of those happening within twenty-four hours of my arrival, I was beginning to seriously question my decision to come here. Maybe I should have listened when my grandma tried to persuade me not to enroll at Pendrell. I had a feeling that the past I was trying to put behind me wasn’t going to go quietly.
Chapter 2
After a thorough scrubbing, I stepped out of the shower still sopping wet. I pulled my terrycloth robe around me and shuffled contentedly to my room. Cherie still wasn’t back. Though a mirror image, her side of the room couldn’t have been more different from mine. Discarded swimsuits and accessories were strewn across her unmade bed and makeup littered her desktop. Clothes hung out of the open drawers of her dresser, and her closet couldn’t quite close because of the pile of shoes in the way. Her walls were covered with posters of indie bands that I had only heard of because of her. My bed was tight enough to bounce a quarter off of it, my books and CDs arranged alphabetically, and my clothes organized by color. A corkboard with carefully arranged snapshots and reminder notes hung above my bed.
Drips of water puddled onto the cheap, tight-knit carpet as I combed out my tangled hair. The fading light of day tumbled through our lone window, diffusing our room with golden hues. Once my hair was snarl-free, I leaned on the small ledge of the window, watching a game of flag football below. Something moved behind me. I spun around, finding nothing; the room was perfectly still, like it was holding its breath. My eyes were drawn to the carpet near the door, where the individual water droplets from my hair were pooling together, forming a single unit, creating a recognizable shape. A footprint. A second, then a third footprint appeared, and only clamping my lips closed kept the shriek tunneling up my throat from escaping. Someone or something was walking across the room toward me.
The temperature in the room plummeted, and I pulled my robe tightly around me, my breath forming a frosty mist. That’s when the smell caught my attention. Chlorine. The room reeked of it so strongly my eyes watered, its chemical taste basting my tongue. I wiped the tears with my sweaty palms, swallowing shallowly.
My heart pounded a warning in my chest and the blood drained from my face as the room grew dimmer. Feeling unsteady on my feet, I took a step back and leaned against the window, pressing my bare hand against the glass. Its arctic cold almost burned my skin. The scream I had been repressing made its way out in the form of a whimper and I fell against my desk, my hand skidding across my jewelry