Atlantis Academy: The First Element

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I grab my jacket, and as I do, I knock the books all over the floor. I collapse beside them, breathing hard, my eyes burning as I fumble with my stiff, sandy jacket.

My hands are shaking too badly to get the pocket unzipped. I think I might puke.

Like I did in the cave.

No.

I try to banish the thought of that cave, of Amanda staring at me with dead eyes and blue-tinted skin. Of the strange black spidery veins crawling up her pale arms and throat.

You got this. One step at a time. Don't panic.

I finally manage to unzip my coat pocket. My phone and wallet are inside, but my keys are missing. I lean over to plug the phone into my charger, but it doesn't light up or respond. My wallet's still intact, and my driver's license and tip money are inside.

I pull the money out, and it's soaking wet.

A scream climbs up my throat, but I swallow it back and bite my lip so hard I taste the salty, metallic tang of my own blood.

I drop everything on the floor next to the sci-fi and fantasy books beside me.

The characters on the nearest covers stare back at me, blurring as I fight back panic. Anders, Selene, Zephyr, Dritan. Their names come to me, jumbling together with my tangle of ADHD thoughts. Those guys fight to survive an apocalypse and the end of Earth. They fight to find a new and better world to live on.

I like losing myself in their messed-up world. Life is so freakin' nightmarish and crazy in those books... It makes my life feel like a picnic.

But not anymore.

Now my life's the nightmare.

And it's my brain that's fractured and defective.

This. Can't. Be. Happening!

I jump to my feet and tear out of my room and down the hallway. The wooden floorboards creak under my feet as I run past my mother's old bedroom and reach the only bathroom in our house.

The bathroom's cramped, with a small standing shower, mildewed tiles, and a sink and mirror I never seem to get around to cleaning. My hands shake as I retrieve my ADHD meds from the medicine cabinet.

I open the orange bottle, cursing the child-proof cap, and quickly count what's left. Fifteen pills, but I can't be rationing today. Today, I'm gonna need a whole one.

I slip the bitter blue pill onto my tongue and wash it down with a bunch of tap water to slake my thirst. I follow that up with two ibuprofen to try to lessen my pain and quickly brush my teeth to get the taste of ocean out of my mouth.

I slam the cabinet shut and lean close to the mirror, staring at myself through old toothpaste spatter.

I look like hell.

My shoulder-length auburn hair is loose, the elastic I had holding it up long gone. It's a mixture of waves, ringlets, flyaways, and knots, sticking up crazily on one side. There are dark circles beneath my sunken chameleon eyes, which are dark green at the moment. My angular face is ghost-pale. Haunted. That's the only right word.

There are three light scratches marring my neck.

Goosebumps pop up everywhere on my body, and I shudder.

I won't let myself think about last night. Nope.

My medication is gonna kick in any minute, and then maybe it'll all be clear. Because nothing makes sense right now. Nothing.