Regenerate

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I’m roused from my daily nap on the beach by my phone ringing in my gym bag. This wouldn’t be weird at all, except that I don’t own a cell phone. The girl I stole the bag from had one in there, but I took it out before grabbing the bag. 

I take the phone out of the bag and stare at it. I'm too scared to answer it, which is probably dumb. I mean, I got stabbed last night. Answering a phone shouldn't be any scarier than that.

It's a nice phone too, a sleek smartphone, which means I probably won't even know how to use it. No name is coming up on the caller ID.

Finally the phone stops ringing. I ignore the missed call and go to look through the phone. There aren't any contacts or other messages.

The phone starts ringing again. I still don't answer. I  grab my bag and head toward the library because suddenly I feel weird staying at the beach. I don't get rid of the phone, but I don't feel good about it either.

I get five more mystery calls from the anonymous number while I'm walking to the public library. I don't know how to silence the phone, so I stay on the first floor, where phone calls are allowed.

Apparently, whoever's on the other end gets tired of trying to call me, because the phone lights up with a text.

I can feel my blood pounding in my ears as I open the message.

I saw what you did last night. I have a proposition for you.

What is it about the word proposition that just sounds ominous?

I fumble with the phone's keypad. It takes almost five minutes for my inexperienced fingers to text back I don't know what you're talking about. You must have the wrong number.

A minute later there's another beep. This isn't the girl who pulled a knife out of her chest and walked off like nothing happened. 

Who is this? I was so sure nobody was watching when that happened. I respond I don't know what you're talking about. That's impossible.

Even I know it’s a weak answer.

If it weren't impossible, I wouldn't be interested in working with you.

I don't text back. Whoever this is knows, which is bad news. After a minute the phone beeps again.

As a sign of goodwill, I've booked a hotel room for you at the Hamilton Hotel just down the street from the library.

That sounds a little too good to be true. It's probably a trap. On the other hand, it's food and a bed. And maybe a chance to meet whoever this is and try to convince him or her that I'm not actually a freak. I still have the knife from last night as a weapon if I need it.

Another beep. Beats wandering the streets all night.

Finally I text back. How do I check in? Will you be there?

Give them the name Matisse Andrews. No, I won't be there. 

I thought you had a proposition.

I'll call. I prefer anonymity.

I roll my eyes, even though I'm a little releived he doesn't want to meet in person. I text back Imagine that. So do I. 

You should be more careful where you do your tricks then.

I throw the phone back into the bag, annoyed. I was careful. I already don't like this mystery person. Even if they are putting me up in a hotel room.