Beheaded In Biology - Kennedy Harkins (best motivational novels .txt) 📗

slightly in the wind; it was the only thing about him that moved. I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing or not.

            “Hello? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see...” I trailed off when I got no response, no sign of life. But he had to be alive, right? If I’d killed him with my car, he wouldn’t be sitting in front of me with perfect posture. He’d be a pancake, heavy on the dirt and cement.

Gabi!

The voice was clear as a bell in my head. And while it definitely wasn’t mine, it was pretty familiar to me.

            Nathan.

            As if he could hear what was going on in my head, the boy turned. “Hello, Gabi.” His words stopped me cold. He wasn’t a boy. He was the boy, the one from my dream. His voice was exactly as I remembered it, perfectly inhuman.

            “I’ve been watching you for some time now.” He echoed the exact words he said to Kara in my dream.

            Run, Gabi. Get out of there.

            Shrugging off the fact that I was hearing voices, add to the ever-growing list of things wrong with me. Or a voice to be more accurate. I followed his advice, because like it or not, Nay’s never led me astray, and there was no way I was waiting around for him to decide he wanted another midnight snack.

            My feet flew across the ground at speeds I didn’t know they were capable of. Where was this hustle when I got a C- in gym? I flung the car door open and launched myself inside. Turning the key in the ignition, I was fully prepared to run that freak over- again- to get out of there.

            I glanced up, expecting to see him at my driver’s side window, but he was gone. My eyes scanned the dark surroundings, looking for any sign of him. No luck.

I floored it, and managed to break every rule of the road during my two-minute drive home. I brought the bug to an abrupt stop in our driveway. For a moment, I just sat there, shaking in silent disbelief.

My phone’s ringtone sounded boisterous. I winced, my eyes shooting around the deserted street, surely a noise that loud would wake the neighbors.

I didn’t bother checking the caller ID; I couldn’t hold my hands steady enough to read it anyway. “Hello?” My voice sounded exactly like I felt. Petrified.

“Gabs, thank god you picked up,” Nathan’s worried voice was one the other line. “I....”

I waited for what seemed like hours to my befuddled mind for him to continue. He finally said, “This is going to sound crazy, but... I called you because of this dream. You were driving, and you hit someone! I keep telling you, you need to be more alert on the road. You could’ve been hurt....” He trailed off, obviously expecting me to tell him that he was off his rocker. I opened my mouth, but couldn’t form the words- whatever they were- that I wanted to say.

            “Gabi? Are you still there? I- yeah, it sounds even kookier out loud than it did in my head.”

            “Can you come over? Please?”

            He was instantly serious, “Be there in five.”

 

_____

 

            Five minutes later, I heard a knocking at my first floor bedroom window. Smiling despite my inner turmoil, I crossed the tidy room and opened it, letting Nay in. It was definitely a tighter fit than it had been when we were seven, but I appreciated that he still did it. Too much changes as you get older, and some things are better left untouched by time.

            He was wearing his favorite pair of worn-in jeans and an old Alan Jackson t-shirt. He’s always been a huge country fan. It was a wonder that Nay, looking very male, didn’t seem out of place amidst all the purple frills in my room. I haven’t done much in the way of redecorating, apart from a few posters, since my tenth birthday.

My gaze traveled from his attire to his face. I couldn’t make out his hair in the dark room, it blended, but his eyes stood out the way a jack-o-lanterns' do on Halloween night. His smile was achingly familiar and comforting, even if it did have worry in it.

Like a giant wave, the events of the night and the past few days, came crashing down on me, leaving me feeling beaten down, hopeless, and defeated. Much to my dismay, silent tears ran down my cheeks. I turned away from Nathan, not wanting him to see my weakness. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seen me cry, but this felt different, more embarrassing than tears shed over a broken leg or a dead pet.

His arms slipped around me, and in one quick movement, pivoted me back to face him. A flash of anger coursed through me. Why did he have to know me so well? Wasn’t there anything I could keep private? The anger faded as fast as it came, replaced by weariness. I rested my head on his chest, and let the tears fall freely.

I might find his unusual insight disconcerting at time, but having a best friend also meant always having someone to lean on during moments like these. And I guess I could live with that.             

           Sometime during the release of all my pent up emotions, Nay had moved our little pity party to the bed. When I finally gained control of myself, I removed myself from his embrace. Hoping he couldn’t see the pink tint in my cheeks. His body heat had felt wonderful. A little too wonderful for my piece of mind. Nay’s my best friend, and my feeling towards him are complete platonic. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

            I met his eyes and I could see that now that I was feeling like my old self, the interrogation would begin. I decided to get the ball rolling, “What you saw, the dream. It happened.”

            A pause, “Talk. From the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

            Part of me wasn’t completely sure I wanted him to know everything, but I was tired of carrying around the weight of my suspicions by myself. And if there was anyone, I could trust with my break from reality, it was Nay.

I started at Kara and I’s field trip to the park, and went through to tonight’s festivities. I didn’t leave out a single detail about the freaky dreams, the weirdness Kara had been exhibiting, not even the part about meeting Zane. I was sure Zane had nothing to do with any of this, but it just felt so freeing to get this off my chest.     

“Zane? Sounds like a serial killer’s name if I ever heard one.”

“Seriously, that’s the part you comment on?” I frowned, trying to identify something I heard in his voice. Jealousy?  No, I shook my head mournfully, that was just wishful thinking on my part. He thinks of me like a little sister. And it doesn’t bother me. Not even a little bit.

He paused, probably digesting everything that I’d told him, “Gabs, it’s time we talk to your grandma.”

Imprint

Publication Date: 10-24-2012

All Rights Reserved