A Glimpse of Her Soul

Chapter 1 - Bamboo Samurai

Chapter 1

Bamboo Samurai

Gillian Boone watched the funeral from the safety of an ancient oak tree. As somber black forms surrounded the grave, drizzle dampened the headstones. She wanted to get in close, to check the body before they lowered it forever, to know whether or not what she had seen was real or just a dream, but she knew she wasn't welcome. Julia Gomez, the most popular girl in school, had died, and no friends of hers would dare let the likes of Gillian attend the funeral.

But the dream haunted her. It had happened a week ago. She woke — she thought she had woken — but was not in her bed. Or her room. Or her house. Confused, she tried to rise, but her body wouldn't respond. Then without her command, she somehow walked into a bathroom — every motion felt wrong, off-balance, out of proportion with where her body should be. In the mirror, she saw the face of Julia Gomez. That's when Gillian knew she was dreaming. And that's when she heard the breathing creature — a sickening sound like air shoved through a tube of mucus.

Gillian shook off the memory and focused on the funeral. Crows cawed as they flew overhead, and a sharp gust blew cold drizzle into her face. She had never seen a funeral before. Technically, that wasn't true. She had, after all, been to her mother's funeral. But at the time, she had been only a few days old. She had no memory of any of it. Julia Gomez's funeral drew a large crowd, and Gillian wondered if her mother's funeral had an equal draw, or if people considered the tragedy greater because of Julia's age.

"You okay?" a husky voice asked, snapping Gillian out of her thoughts.

She whirled around, smacking her back against the tree's rough bark. Jim Chapel — senior, football player, wearer of intoxicating smiles — stood before her, rain beading on his smart-looking dress coat. She gazed up at him, she only came to his chest, and wiped her wet, brown hair from her eyes.

"Um," Gillian said. Way to amaze him with your brilliant conversation skills. "I'm fine. Are you holding up okay?"

Jim shrugged. "I suppose. I never knew Julia that well. Just mostly through Marcy."

"That's right," Gillian said, hoping her disappointment didn't show through her strained smile. "You're going out with Marcy Thompson."

"Yeah," Jim said and at least had the sense to look a bit ashamed. Marcy Thompson was the second most popular girl in school — now the first — but whereas Julia Gomez ruled with smiles and overbearing good cheer, Marcy controlled people with scorn and a wicked tongue. She terrorized her followers and they fell in line with greedy eagerness, more than happy to inflict pain upon those beneath them in the social order. Gillian had been raised not to swear, but she suspected Pops, her father, would agree in this case — Marcy was a bitch.

"Not to be rude," Gillian said, "but why?"

She couldn't believe the words had left her mouth and could feel her face flush. But Jim laughed and quickly covered his mouth. He glanced beyond the oak, making sure he hadn't disturbed the mourners or perhaps making sure he hadn't caught Marcy's attention. Then he said, "I don't know, really. I've thought about breaking up with her a few times, but she's not the easiest person to break up with."

"I can imagine."

An awkward silence surrounded them for a moment. It wasn't just that they didn't belong to the same clique. They were in different universes. But then he asked, "What are you doing back here anyway? Did you know Julia?"

Gillian faced the funeral. "Everybody knew her. But, no, we weren't friends or anything."

"I didn't think so. Not that you couldn't. I mean, um —"