Red under my eyelids turned a sudden black. Sweaty skin was slapped by wind, and my eyes opened in a violent shiver. My shrunk pupils were nearly blind. Twin pricks of light grew at the end of a dark tunnel. Mystified, I swiped away tears and walked forward to get a clearer view, stumbling off a short ledge. Oh no oh no oh–
A horn blared as breaks squealed. I was already diving for my life, concrete scraping the top layer of skin off my elbows as they hit the sidewalk. A roll sent me into the metal frame of a planter. The vehicle weaved back to the right lane, streetlights illuminating a Safeway advertisement. Reassured by the lack of bump bump, the driver honked and peeled off to finish delivering its produce.
After gasping myself back into existence, I sat on the planter edge and collapsed against the tree. You will arrive with both feet on solid ground, he said. It is safe, he said.
“You call this safe!?” I bellowed across the roadway. “I should have listened to my grandpa! Never trust foreign technology!” A passing Honda slowed a bit before stepping on the gas, headlights flashing wildly through the fog. Laughter boiled up into a hysterical shriek.
I hugged the tree and emptied my stomach. Raindrops tapped the crown of my head, dampening my cheeks when I looked to the sky. With a wet sleeve I washed the spit from my chin. It’s all a bad dream honey, I cooed to myself as I started walking. Hiccup. Giggle.
The sidewalk was gritty and cold under my bare feet. Judging from the glow of a nearby Starbucks, I’d landed just a few blocks away from the dorms. By the time the dorm gate came into view, my fleece pants were waterlogged and my cotton top was in danger of indecent exposure. I stared dumbly at the red light from the key scanner. Dammit, my key-card was in my dorm room.
Eyes glared at me from under a bush as I waited for a passerby to let me in. I kneeled and stretched out a hand.
“Heere, witty kitty,” I murmured. I could do with some cat affection right now, but the eyes narrowed in disdain and didn’t move. That community cat and I never got along.
“For real, man?” The outburst startled me upright. On cue, my bus stop friend tramped around the corner with a cell phone to his ear. A hand fumbled in his back shorts pocket, and I shuffled eagerly behind. Shorts Guy slashed the key-card through the scanner. Oblivious to his surroundings and much less to the weather, he entered the complex with me tiptoeing at his heels. Seconds later I was at 104’s doorstep, a jaguar, a toucan, and a snake ogling my drowned-rat-inspired fashion. Luckily the door was unlocked. I let myself in and brushed off my dirty feet. Someone had vacuumed all the popcorn, so I reached my door with un-buttered toes.
Everything was pretty much where I’d left it. The psyche book was still open to “Stress will always be a part of your daily life.” The usually closed curtains were open to a dim view of the street. Shivers rocked me, so before checking anything else I pulled off my soaked clothes. An oversized t-shirt and a bathrobe would have to do until there was a chance for laundry.
“What the eff happened!?” Chel’s voice burst from the doorway like a microphone squeal. Dizziness almost toppled my legs as I rose to face her. Armed with a hairbrush, my suitemate approached me until we were face to face. “You screamed and your door was locked, so everyone was freaking out. Then that guy shows up at our door, opens the lock with some kind of master key, and carries you out. Like, what the fuck?”
C’mon brain. Think. That was a tough order, considering my mind was drunk with exhaustion and disbelief. I dropped into a seat on my mattress. Crossed arms and a hairbrush loomed overhead.
“Ok, give me a second to breathe. I have this condition,” I admitted.
“Uh huh. And who’s the guy you summoned?”
“Guy?” I asked blankly.
“The one that whisked you away like a prince to a distressed damsel. He was seven feet tall, dressed in a business coat, mean-looking face; hard to forget someone like that. You did call for him, right? We assumed he was dorm staff since he went straight for you and had a key…” My thoughts flashed to the man standing by the dining commons in formalwear. Paranoia wasn’t always wrong. Keiyron had been following me all the way from school.
“He’s…my mom’s cousin. A doctor, who knows about my condition. I uh, texted him when it happened since he lives nearby,” I said. Chel nodded, apparently satisfied. “Thanks for worrying about me. I’m going to sleep now,” I added so she would leave.
“Is this gonna happen again? No offense, but it’s kinda nerve-wracking to have a roomie who has seizures,” said Chel with an upturned lip. My head shook.
“No, this has never happened before and probably won’t happen again.” I was assuring myself as much as Chel.
“That’s a relief. Call your friend before you conk out, alright? She’s texted me over ten times for updates.” In a twirl she exited the room, reaching behind to slam the door shut.
I picked my cell phone off the desk with my feet, bending my knees close enough to grab it before hitting number two fast-dial. One argument with Terra later, I tossed the phone aside and dropped to the bed. She was angry that I hadn’t contacted her while in the hospital, miffed that she’d heard nothing about “mom’s cousin,” and pissed that I hadn’t called before arriving home. I didn’t have the energy to properly console an angry, miffed, pissed Terra. At least no-one had phoned Mom. My thoughts drifted away. I heard the phone clunk on the floor moments before I passed out.
When my alarm buzzed at its usual hour, I dragged on jeans and a sweatshirt with automated motion. That was when I noticed the bracelet on my wrist, a silver band flush with my skin. Yesterday’s memory turned my world grey. It was real. Aliens, fetus mutation, all of it. Fingernails dug at the band, but no amount of pinching and pulling shifted the bracelet, as if it were super-glued to my skin. I ran to the mirror. My face was my own, only...different. The change was slight enough to miss without close attention. The bones were more compact, less elvishly high-structured than what usually reflected back at me. My profile lines had smoothed into a fuller, more kindly look. I actually looked a lot like Mom. I patted the skin to make sure it was real, and pulled down an eyelid to feel for my contacts. They weren’t there; I was a true brown-eyed girl. The lenses holder next to the sink was empty.
Holding my knees on the bed for ten minutes slowed the panic. Was I crazy? I tapped the circlet like I would a snake to see if it was alive. Vibrant blue lettering appeared, the forms shifting every few seconds. I wasn’t crazy. The universe was crazy. Of all the answers I could’ve had to my medical issues, the universe threw this at me. Aliens? I’d been infected by freaking aliens?
Chel had to poke me with a toothbrush to make sure I was ok. I wasn’t, but I offered her a weak assurance before mechanically getting ready for class. The rest of the day was a blurry mess. Most of my brain’s energy was spent running analysis on yesterday’s memory and spitting out null results. I only vaguely remembered forming a truce and playing hangman with Terra during English, the answer coming out to be “idiot.”So long as she expelled her anger without snubbing me, I didn’t mind. Whether out of concern or because she didn’t know what to say, she tactfully refrained from asking questions about my episode. I wondered what it was like from her point of view, having a friend who was always sick, hearing rumors about me during my absences, having to act normal when I came back. But she’d put up with all of it. If I told her what actually happened yesterday, how would she react? Besides laughing herself into convulsions. No, she would never believe me, not even if I showed her the bracelet.
Despite my mental crisis, I couldn’t help but notice that physically I felt better than I ever remembered feeling. My usually weak, anemic limbs no longer shook under pressure. It was like being reborn into a new body. I would have danced with the newfound freedom if it hadn’t come at such a price.
A long-sleeved jacket covered my wrist. I didn’t think I could stand to look at the physical proof without feeling dizzy. With the evidence covered, it was easy to pretend nothing had happened, that the scrapes on my elbows were from a bike accident, not from almost getting smashed by a truck after teleporting home. By the time I got back to my dorm room, I nearly had myself convinced it was all a false memory.
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“Thank goodness for instant apple cider,” I gurgled into my mug. The cider was the first thing I could stomach today. To put off taking a shower, I crawled under the bed to clean out some of the junk. “Damn, Zhi Shu!” I addressed the spider. “Have you been busy or what?” ‘Welcome to Spider Web City’ was more or less strung out from box to box. It took a half-hour to pull out luggage, dust off webs and dirt, and stuff everything neatly back in—a lot less time than I’d hoped. Chel had remembered to unlock the bathroom door, so that excuse failed as well.
Humming distractedly, I got ready and stepped in the tub. Lukewarm spray clouded the shower box. The water burned over my torn elbows. While the conditioner set in I focused on the line of bathing products set up on the bathtub rim, a drugstore’s worth of lotions and gels and razors. A massive bottle called Big Sexy Volumizing Gel fell on my foot as I reached for my own primitive generic soap.
With pajamas and towel-wrapped hair I returned to my bed. Deep breath. Although I knew the silver band was there, the sight of it still gave me a jolt. My desperation to not believe it was as hard as the evidence. The band would not come off, not even when I stabbed the edges with a thumbtack, trying to dig underneath. All that accomplished was more pain and blood I mopped up with tissue. If the aliens—vasithryn, or whatever—did come back, they’d better remove this first thing. What was it anyway? A tracking device? Keiyron already knew where I lived.
Air hissed against fabric as my face pressed to the pillow. Something tickled on top of my knuckles, and a reflexive jerk sent poor Zhi Shu flying. My head stuck over the bedframe to watch him scramble under the bed. “Forgive me, eight-legged roommate. Creatures like us need to stick together. When life smacks you against a wall, hide in a dark hole and bar the entrance with a web of attitude," I murmured, and lay back down to sleep. The blare of pop music, Rachel yelling on her cell, and the noise of my own thoughts kept me tossing for half the night. Freed from my efforts to suppress them during day, snatches of memory often shot me awake. That live body scan haunted the backs of my eyelids, organs pulsating where they shouldn’t be. If Mom knew about my body, why hadn’t she ever told me? Was my anatomy the reason why I hadn’t seen a doctor since early childhood? Images of fetuses twisted grotesquely in my dreams until I woke. I lay there glassy eyed, looping through Keiyron’s words. For your safety, you will not be permitted access to your home world during social reconstruction. The phrase ‘social reconstruction’ was too ominous to think about. It was a full hour before my thoughts whittled down enough to sleep.
Terra joined me for an early five o’clock dinner at the DC, the dining commons. Radio jazz and plastic plants snuggled us into a corner. I was thankful she didn’t comment on my funky fashion choice of six hair ties around my wrist to cover the bracelet. They cut off less circulation than rubber bands. This morning the bracelet had woken me by blinking strong blue light into my face. Maybe it had low battery; I didn’t care to find out. I’d rummaged through my accessories to find something thick enough to hide it. Tonight when I had time, I’d use soap and oils and anything else that would help loosen it enough to pull it off.
Terra seemed to have recovered and was in an exceptionally good mood. If her loud voice didn’t scare people off, her spurting a mouthful of latte onto the table did the trick. We spent the next ten minutes depleting a napkin dispenser.
"Do you do this to me to make damn sure neither of us ever makes new friends, or does it just slip your mind that laughing while chugging coffee is a bad idea?" I grumbled while saving the rug from dripping foam.
"Subconsciously? Both. If you go off with a hot table of Chinese dudes who's gonna listen to my griping and Onion fake news stories? Seriously, what's the military got to lose by building a giant mechanical dragon? Like a Trojan horse, only with more firepower. Think of all the troops’ lives that'll save. Who wouldn't want to ride into battle in the belly of a dragon?"
“Get over it, it’s not practical. War torn countries have enough to worry about without crash-landing dragons on the horizon. Gimme another towel will you?”
“I grr at practicality. What’s better, a practical nation or an epically awesome nation? I’m gonna go for a refill. That last latte didn’t have nearly enough sugar anyway. I could almost taste the coffee under the foam.” She chucked the dispenser in my direction and pelted away when it bounced off my shoulder.
“If you spew one more mug of foam I’ll set the Smiling Check-in Lady on you!” I yelled. A peace hand gesture bobbed above the crowded tables. Flexing my aching shoulder, I yanked out the last of the hand towels and scrubbed. Dammit, my burrito was getting cold. But I was smiling. As long as Terra was happy and on my side, the world was an okay place. If I had been alone, I’d still be hiding under the bed with Zhi Shu.
“Hey. Spill something?” a male voice chirped overhead. Uh oh. Incoming awkward moment. Why does a guy have to approach me when I’m cleaning the floor with my behind sticking up in the air? After rocking back on my heels and puffing hair out of my eyes I looked up.
“Ah. You’re–” I perked with a finger point.
“Tai. You sit across from me in Japanese. I’m the one that mixed up ‘okashii’, strange, with ‘oishii’, delicious, and inadvertently insulted the professor when she passed out homemade rice balls.” Tai stuck his hands in his pockets and frowned. “If my mom hadn’t bullied me into taking Japanese, I’d drop. But I’ve got the heritage duty thing. Actually I’m kinda afraid to understand what grandma says when she’s looking at me. I think she’s ashamed ‘cause I’m so ‘Americanized’ or whatever. Oops, I’m talking too much, right? Sorry. I noticed you because you’re the most confident person in our class, and sensei said you have the top grade. Can you tutor me sometime?” One of his hands emerged from his khakis to fiddle with a sleeve.
“A photographic memory helps when you’re learning languages,” I said to downplay his praise. “I’m not smart, just lucky.”
“Photographic memory? Really!? So you can, like, recite pi and stuff!?”he said much too eagerly. This was exactly the sort of attention that made me uncomfortable.
A few tables down, Terra spied us with pie plates balanced in her arms, a stupid grin spreading across her face as she inched closer. Sticking my tongue out would not be wise right now.
“I guess, but why would I bother? I don’t like math,” I replied. “I’ll tutor you in Japanese if you lend me chemistry notes. That way I only have to feign being awake in lecture. Oh, is that banana cream!?” My sugar radar distracted me as Terra clunked down two slices on our table.
“Ohhh yeaah, perfection confection. I told ya you’d abandon me for a cuter picture as soon as my back was turned. That’s why backup plan A involves bribes. Are you gonna introduce me?” she demanded while hopping up to the table top. Smiling Check-in Lady would have a conniption. Tai ignored her completely to stare at my face. Not that I could claim any experience with persons of the masculine persuasion, but it made me uneasy.
“Terra, Tai. Tai, Terra. So, did some of Terra’s foam get on my nose or did I say something stupid?”
“What?” he blinked with a start. His fingers hyped up their sleeve-fiddling. “N-no. Guess I’ll leave you to your…confection. Hi Terra,” he tacked on mid-turn. Tai’s sneakers squeaked across the linoleum in his hurry to get away.
“Did we scare him off by accident?” I sighed after his retreating back.
“How should I know? Did you see that total brush off he gave me? Hi, Terra,” she mimicked in disgust. “That’s what I get for having a pretty friend. I’ll be scarred for life. Not even banana pie will heal my woe.” In a disgruntled scoot she fell off the table. Fork prongs stabbed violently into pie, globs of yellow cream smacking between her lips.
“I pity the minds of those who find me pretty. I’ve been too lazy to even put on makeup.” My looks had always been a point of contention in my family; they were the reason Dad left before I could walk, refusing to believe I was his. Whatever genetic modification I had endured in the womb changed my structure just enough to be strikingly different from either parent.
“Speaking of your looks...I wasn’t going to mention it, but you look healthier these days, ever since you came back from the hospital. Like you’ve put on some weight—which is good, in your case. Maybe it’s ‘the freshman fifteen,’ as they call the inevitable fifteen pounds gained from unlimited dining commons meals.”
“Oh, uh...thanks,” I stumbled. Terra was the only person whom I’d been worried might notice my facial changes, so I was glad she’d rationalized it as weight gain.
“Don’t worry, it’s a compliment,” she said, misjudging my frown. “But I understand. You’re going through adolescent turmoil, self-conscious and trying to find an identity for yourself. Don’t worry, it settles down by the time you’re my age,” she nodded sagely. An entire piecrust disappeared into Terra’s mouth.
“I’m only a half year younger than you, far from adolescent, thanks very much. And if you’re my role model of maturity, society has much to fear,” I returned before starting in on my own pie.
“You gonna finish that?” she said with a fork point to my burrito.
“Naw, I’ve already taken a bite of pie, and mixing banana and beans would have nasty results.”
“I suppose,” she said as she sampled some rice and tortilla. We ate with companionable, nonsensical small talk. For a while I willed myself to pretend we were ordinary freshmen, whose only worries were about grades and guys and money.
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If we hadn’t wasted all that time mopping coffee I’d’ve made the bus, but the next Double Decker wouldn’t come chugging back for another hour. Waiting alone under a streetlamp didn’t appeal to me, so I unlocked my bike. There was something mystical about pedaling down city streets at night. It reminded me of a video game in which to survive from point A to B you had to steer madly to avoid the obstacles. Horde of street-racing college kids at two o’clock, watch the red light, ooh, ya didn’t see that cop coming did you? A mad giggle rose in my throat as my wheels wobbled over wet leaves. Apartment windows twinkled overhead, political slogans and celebrity posters plastered between their curtains. Without stopping to question my drunkenly giddy mood, I mashed the crosswalk button with a gloved finger. Five times. That was a tic I’d picked up from Terra. On the walking symbol above the button, someone had drawn a white rose from the stick figure’s arm. How cute.
Red and yellow car lights made blurred streams as they roared past. My weight tilted from foot to foot, and I brushed sweat off my neck. Eight PM and it was this muggy? Until suppertime I’d been shivering under three sweaters, but now I was stripped down to my Hello Kitty T-shirt. The walking man lit up across the street. I pushed through the crosswalk and bounced up to the next bike lane. Some cheeky kid barged past with his bike-lamp set on strobe. Its flash sent me steering erratically toward the curb, traffic lights spinning like an arcade game in my eyeballs. My fists pulled the brake inches from the street. Another burst of inane laughter built in my lungs. My head had that rocking feeling you get after stepping off a roller coaster. Maybe I really did have fever.
A distant horn blare woke my daze. After unclenching the death-grip on my brakes, I followed the twinkle of that guy’s strobe light until catching up to him at the intersection. He had forgotten to complete the crosswalk button ritual, so I obligingly pushed the last four times. Strobe Guy sniffled into his knuckles and pulled a leather jacket tighter. He must’ve noticed me staring, because he upped the volume on an iPod until even I could hear Green Day singing “Life Before the Lobotomy.” My foot tapped to the beat until the sign beeped green. Spitefully I tailgated Strobe Guy until he glanced behind and sped through an alleyway.
In the communal garage, I wrestled my contraption into a rack and navigated out the labyrinth of bikes. Dorm 104’s window was dark. My feet slipped over something icky on the front mat, which the hallway light revealed to be smashed Halloween candy. “Zhi Shu, I’m back!” I called. I’d forgotten to turn the Christmas lights off this morning. The sight was comforting. After dropping my backpack I pulled a window to give myself some air. Had Chel flipped the thermostat up to ninety? Perhaps she’d been strutting around in her summer wardrobe after tiring of Fall sweaters. A blast of cool air puffed back my hair. My eyes couldn’t focus, and giddy energy made all my limbs shake. After digging my phone out from the depths of my pack I dialed Terra’s number and counted all the red Christmas lights while the tone rang.
“YO!” Terra shouted into her mouthpiece. Explosives and sounds of moaning, dying things erupted in the background.
“I feel strange. I think I’m sick. Or drunk, even though I never touched any alcohol,” I mused. There were thirty-four red ones.
“What? Give me a minute, this zombie just won’t stay down.” More gunfire and sickly death throes covered up our conversation.
“Got ‘em?”
“Yeah, his head’s way over…there. I think when they’re decapitated they’re down for good. Did you say you’re drunk? You’re more underage than I am, don’t you dare get drunk before I do!” An open textbook slipped under my foot, sending me sprawling face first over my mattress. Psychology was always tripping me up. Something between laughter and an unreleased scream left me breathless, hardly able to cough out a reply.
“I’m not drunk. I just feel like I left sanity behind somewhere.” I could practically hear Terra’s eyebrows raise.
“Maybe Chel spiked your toothpaste. If she did, she’ll have me to answer to; no-one gives my friends alcohol unless I’m there to enjoy the consequences. Did the hospital prescribe you new meds?” Meds…a flashback of my arm being forcibly held to a syringe put a hatchet through my levity. Was this a narthin side-effect? Who knew what other chemicals the vasithryn had put in my body while I was unaware… A violated feeling once again poked goosebumps over my skin.
“N-no,” I said, “Chel’s not home. Is it hot in your dorm too, or did my suitemates really crank up the heat into an artificial tropic?”
“ARGH!!” Terra’s scream made my whole body spasm. A full twenty seconds of gunfire later and her heavy breathing came back through the line. “Sorry, it jumped out from a bathroom stall. Bathrooms are always the worst places in horror games. Anyway, it sounds like you’re still not over that episode. You just came back from the hospital, what do you expect? I mean, you getting sick isn’t exactly new, and hospitals are full of germs. I’m surprised Deanna hasn’t driven up to check on you by now. Should I come over?” The mattress creaked as I rolled over, Christmas lights twinkling overhead. They looked much prettier when my eyes were crossed, like floating colored amoebas.
“I’ll see Mom on winter break, and I’m fine, so there’s no need,” I said quickly. “Don’t mention the hospital episode to anyone back home, alright? You know how Mom is. Just a reminder might set her off.” My finger tapped each green amoeba in turn.
“Sure. At least it’s Saturday. Hit yourself with a cold shower and read your ‘Soils in Our Environment’ textbook, that’ll sober you up. Does your roomie still have candy in the living room?”
“…twenty-seven. Green ones,” I murmured to myself.
“Erin my friend, it’s no wonder you’re sick if you’ve been eating moldy green candy. How long has it been since Halloween, a month? Never mind, I was going to suggest mooching some to boost your sugar levels, but that crosses even my line. Tell me about this cousin who gave you a ride to the hospital. Maybe he can give you advice.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” The abrupt change in my tone silenced the phone line. When I tapped the light-string again, my entire arm shook like it’d been jacked on serious caffeine. “I’m sorry. I just…it was a painful night. I don’t want to think about it,” I said. The hair ties pinched my skin. “Forget him, okay? Fill your head with Monday’s Raymond Carver exam.”
“Brr. Just when I thought playing survival horror might give me nightmares, Carver gives bloodthirsty zombies a run for their money. Why did that fish-obsessed guy drown himself again?” she replied with her usual chirpiness. If she was offended, she hid it well.
“When in doubt, declare the main character as a Christ figure. It almost always works. See you tomorrow around dinner?”
“Duh. If you’re feeling better, I’ll pick you up and we’ll head out to the buffet. The weekend selection is always excellent. You’ll have to tie a leash to my wrist. And we’ll window shop the desserts, there’s a cheesecake in strawberry syrup I want to try…”
“Bye Terra.”
“See ya. Call me if you need anything.” After the beep my eyes glazed over. My head was swimming through Terra’s strawberry syrup. I stared at the phone’s clock until it slipped to the floor. 8:37PM. Knuckles arched over the comforter trembled like Zhi Shu on drugs. I’d barely touched my dinner, and perhaps eating nothing but latte and pie wasn’t the smartest concoction after a long day. And today was supposed to be laundry day.
Giggles dissolved into hiccuping sobs. Oh. I finally realized what this was. A delayed reaction to crazy, reality-warping trauma. I suppose I should be proud I’d lasted this long before breaking. My chest pinched with the force of each gasp. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Just play along and hope the alien invasion wasn’t anytime soon? With dull fingernails I clawed at my shut eyes. Remembering the vision of my veins and organs pulsing in real-time made me feel nauseous.
By the time I calmed down I was exhausted. A eureka moment sent me sliding headfirst under the mattress, delving through a maze of Kleenex boxes to unearth a very special bag. Seconds later I heaved a sigh of relief, rolling back clutching a large stuffed penguin. Regressing to my five-year-old self was the best solution I could come up with, for now.
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