"Bella, are you sure you're not sick?" Mom asked for the third time the next morning.
"No, I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well."
"Was it the cold?"
"No, just weird dreams."
"Well, you didn't hear this from me, but take a small sip of NyQuil before bed—puts me right out."
"Is that good Mom-advice?"
"Better than looking like the living dead. Put some concealer on that gray under your eyes. You look like you aged a few years... or came out of a Tim Burton movie."
I went back up to my room to dig up some concealer. I normally didn't wear makeup… but, then again, I never had dreams that kept me up almost the entire night.
There was more than one dream since I woke up after one, went to sleep, and woke up from another one. I was running in most of them, and I was fairly certain I recognized the terrain to be Cheshire—or at least one of the neighborhoods I drove by. Was I scared? In only a couple of them. I was running from someone, but I only turned to look back at who it was only once.
He was shadowed in darkness (the running took place at night) but even if I couldn't see his face, I immediately pictured Ethan Walker.
Creepy, right? No? Dreaming about a hot guy chasing you needs to be a reality? I myself wasn't sure. I mean, even if he—
Crap!
The concealer—which I finally found—slipped out of my hands and fell, rolling under my bed.
I wasn't late, but I didn't want to waste any more time. I got down and started searching for it with my hands. A few boxes were under there containing summer clothing.
Since I didn't find it on my side, there was a chance it rolled to the other. I went around and searched, immediately finding it… in one of the vents.
Its vent flaps were open, and I could see it lying there. I contemplated whether digging it out was worth a few minutes. But, if the gray under my eyes were super noticeable, there was a chance people were going to ask me about it.
Thankfully, I didn't need to unscrew everything. Gripping one of the flaps, and a few tugs, I removed the vent covering and found my concealer. And something else.
It was an old, leather-bound diary, a purple ribbon tied around it. The diary was half an inch thick, and it looked like every page was covered in perfect cursive handwriting.
"Bella! You're going to be late! You have to beat all the traffic!"
Mom's sarcastic cry made me jump.
I put the diary back in and covered it. I smudged on the concealer, glad that I hadn't thrown away most of my makeup, but then I looked all pale. I found a little blush and tried to make it as natural as possible. I was convinced I looked just like yesterday.
"There," Mom said as I jogged down the stairs, "you've risen from the dead."
"Ha ha. You're going to be here all day?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to need anything from the store?"
"Mmm… no, nothing I can think of."
"Okay, then, I'm going."
In my car, I took a minute to let it—and myself—warm up.
The radio turned on, making me jump. I didn't even have the radio on at all yesterday. The old sound of Motown filled the car, surprising me since, well, when the radio had been on, it certainly wasn't on an oldies station.
I turned it off and went to school.
*
I'll dish out a few spoilers. Today and the next three days were the same, so, I'll quickly explain what happened today (Tuesday) and that will carry on into Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I just want to get to what happened during my second weekend in Cheshire.
My first three classes went the same. Gray Eyes and Blue Eyes didn't ask me anything, but they still surrounded me. I thought about how far Cynthia's influence went. I briefly looked through Twilight (my mom has it, okay? She just likes to see how many ways she could rewrite it before anyone notices) and I decided that Cynthia was generically popular. If I had to line up all the girls I'd seen in school (horrible… I felt bad just imagining it), then Cynthia would technically be deemed one of the most attractive.
To make myself feel better, I did that with the boys. In my opinion, Ethan won.
Thinking of Ethan, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to eat in the library. Ethan hung out there, and what if he wanted to talk? What if I ended up asking why he was an outcast in his own hometown and he realized what I was like? Then we could never be friends.
So I didn't eat lunch. I didn't go to the library. The following is probably the most pathetic I've ever been, but it invariably happened:
Cheshire High School is built like a circle, different buildings for different subjects. The farthest half-circle of buildings far from the cafeteria are the subject ones, while the library and the gymnasium across from each other connect the other half of buildings. These other buildings consisted of the administration building, the auditorium (the music and drama department) and the cafeteria.
Staying as far and unnoticeable from the cafeteria and the library… I spent the lunch half-hour… ducking in and out of… bathrooms. *sigh*
This only happened Tuesday. In choir after that, I found out from Charlie that juniors and seniors were allowed off campus for lunch (that's how it was at my old school, but I didn't think Cheshire High was cool enough for that).
In choir, I hung out with Charlie. Mr. Charles made us sing "Danny Boy" about five times each class period, spending time in-between working with us in our pairs. Ethan never made eye-contact with me (not that I wanted him to)… he never did anything; the same happened in biology, which was why I skipped mentioning fourth period biology with him.
Nothing happened in Econ.
I never found a reason to go to the pool after school, but mostly because I probably wasn't going to find it again. I made it to my car without incident and ran straight home.
Once homework was done, I spent most of the week reading the diary.
It's obviously written by a girl, though she doesn't give her name. She doesn't write the year either, which sucks a bit.
But she writes about Ian Walker, Caroline Connor, and Charlotte Jones. Whoever this girl was, she had lived in Cheshire, and had known the families. I didn't need to ask anyone about the Walkers after all, because I was sure I could find the answer somewhere in this diary.
YOU ARE READING
Cheshire Girl
Paranormal"There were three things about which I was absolutely certain. First, I didn't have my cell phone. Second, my hands hurt from gripping the trunk lid closed. They would probably be useless to put up a fight. ...
