“Although, you can’t blame them for being jealous. You really do have amazing hair.” He tugs on a strand, letting it slide between his fingers until it falls back into place.

Your hair is amazing, Taylor. You’re so lucky–I wish mine was long and wavy like yours.

Lainey’s voice, filling my ears. Lainey’s fingers, running through my hair the same way.

I stumble back as anxiety claws its way up into my throat, dimming my surroundings. My hair. I can still feel her fingers tugging it, separating it into sections for a braid. I used to love having people play with my hair. Now, I feel like something heavy is trying to suffocate my head, like the strands brushing my neck are trying to choke me. I can’t take it. I can’t—

“I’ve got to go,” I blurt, before scooping up my backpack and dashing for the door. I don’t wait to see what he says, but sprint for the bathroom. Please be empty, please, please.

I burst in, heart hammering, worrying half the school chose this very moment to take a pee break. Luckily there’s no one inside. The panic is nearly drowning me now. I yank at my hair until tears spring to my eyes. Keep yanking, but it won’t come off. I hate it. People see my hair and think they know me. They don’t. Those stupid blond strands aren’t me, not anymore.

I wish mine was long and wavy like yours.

I stare at my reflection blindly. Then, I dig frantically through my backpack for my knife.

The relief hits the second my fingers touch the cold metal, but it’s short-lived. Get it off, I have to get it off. I yank a strand taut with the other hand and start sawing away.

“Taylor? Hey hon, how was your day?”

I pause, stare at the ceiling. Wonder briefly what she’d say if I told her the truth—that I’d had an epic sized freak-out in English, purposely shunned everyone at lunch, and told the only semi-decent guy I’d met in ages to fuck off. But that would ruin the whole façade of how well our family is coping with everything. I mean, God forbid Mom ever admit that her life might be less than perfect.

I toss a believable smile over my shoulder. Thanks to Mom, I’ve been a pro at faking them for years. “Oh, it was great.”

“Did you make any new friends? Join any clubs?”

“I’m still…scoping things out.”

“Well…just don’t wait too long.”

Worry lines distort the skin over her nose, and I feel a pang of regret. I shouldn’t be so hard on her. I know she loves me. She tries, anyway. It’s just that she mistakes being overly involved in the details of my social life for some crazy deep bond. But I can’t share important stuff. I can’t. Talking, really talking, would mean admitting there’s a problem in the first place. And if we had a family motto? It would totally be: ignore it until it goes away.

Relief strips the tightness from my chest once the door to my room clicks shut. I kick off my shoes and burrow into my bed. Finally relax in the peace that comes from not playing a role.

When I’m by myself it’s like I’m shedding a fake skin, sloughing off the pretense of being okay until it crumples into shriveled little pieces all around me. My down comforter doesn’t give a damn if I’m something less than perfect. Flawed.

I spot her immediately, the girl from yesterday. The one who’d needed my shirt. What was her name again? Hayden? Kayden?

Jayden, that was it.

Something weird happens as I stare at her, though. Her long, straight dark hair morphs into shoulder-length, light brown waves. She grows to a gawky height. And her laugh—it sounds eerily familiar.

I gasp. No. No way. Goosebumps streak across my skin while I cover my sunglasses with my hands. When I drag them away again, a face blocks my view, just an arm’s length away.

“Everything okay?”

A pair of concerned brown eyes inspect me—familiar ones. It takes me a second, but then it clicks. It’s the guy from my walk of shame yesterday, the do-gooder.

I glance over at the quad, but Lainey is gone. It’s Jayden standing there.

Lainey is gone.

I shake my head and shift my attention back to the boy. “You know, that question is totally pointless,” I finally say.

He tilts his head to the side, sending a lock of brown hair skidding across his forehead. Cute trick. I wonder how long he’d practiced that in the mirror to get it just right.

“Pointless? Why do you say that?” he asks, studying me, his lips quirking up into a small half-smile. Almost like he can read my mind, and whatever he sees there is infinitely amusing.

Great. So glad I can entertain him. I tighten my grip on my backpack. “It’s pointless, because nobody ever wants to hear the truth.”

It’s cold, so freaking cold. I curl my knees into my body, wrap my arms around tight. Sit very, very still. I’m almost afraid to breathe. They’re staring at me, I know they are. Hunting me. Faces in the wall, bursting out and grabbing at me with long, fleshless fingers. They’re all out to get me. Devour me. I scrunch down into the tightest ball I can manage, trying to disappear.

Something brushes against my neck.

My body shivers, and I rock, rock, rock, keeping my eyes tightly closed. “No, no, go away! I can’t see you, I can’t.”

A voice. “Kaylin?”

They know my name. They’re trying to trick me. I can’t look, I can’t look. They might snatch me into the wall if I do. “No. No! NO!!! La, la, la, I can’t see you.” I start to laugh, rock even faster.

They won’t win. I’m too smart. I’m too—

“NO!” My hands whip up like claws to scratch at whatever is touching my neck, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut like my life depends on it. Oh, God, are there bugs crawling on me? I shake violently, slap at my arms. Maybe if I peel off my skin, they’ll go away. I start to scratch, and I can’t stop. Deep down, a part of me knows I’m shredding the fuck out of my arms, but I don’t care. I want it to go away. I want everything to go away. My skin is dirty, but blood is clean. Blood will wash it all away.

“Jesus—KAYLIN! STOP!” Strong hands manacle my wrists, yank my arms behind me.

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. It’s—

My eyelids flutter open. A figure, kneeling before me, dark hair dripping like chocolate across his forehead. Not a wall face. Safe. “P-Patrick?”

Relief rushes through me in a wave of liquid joy. My fears melt away. But something is wrong. I can see it, there in the downward arch of his mouth, the pain radiating behind his dark blue eyes.

I float out of the room a short while later—minutes? Hours? I have no clue. I’m glowing, glowing. My fingers skim the walls, graze the nubby texture, the air. I laugh and the sound floats around me, hovers. I’ve got more energy than I can fucking stand. I feel like I could explode out of my own skin, race a few hundred laps around the neighborhood, and not even have to stop for air. But most of all, I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t find someone to talk to. I need people around me.

I take another step and stumble. Underneath my buzz, something slinks into my consciousness, something dark and dirty.

I brush my fingers against my lips, brush away the taste. Then shake my head. My hair whips at warp speed and I see black dots and lights. I welcome the distraction and do it again. And again.
Then I stumble out toward the comforting chaos of the party.

The laughter, the voices—they cover me like warm fog, fill every corner of my brain. I shove my way into the first group of people I see, just craving that feeling of connection. Shane’s telling some story about a practical joke they played on their coach, and I start laughing hysterically. The sound roars around me. Musical. Free.

Shane grins and ruffles my hair. “Gee, I wonder what you’ve been doing? I can’t believe anyone ever thought you were such a goody-goody. Slacker.”

Comments welcome, as always!

When I walk down the stairs, Mom’s smile is the same one she’s been wearing for the past four months—perky, wide. Strained.

Then she gives me a once over, and the smile fades. It’s not long before she’s hovering, which makes even our condo-sized kitchen feel claustrophobic, and I can see her biting her lip. She’s trying not to say anything about my new look. But I know her. Former Miss Chester County won’t be able to help herself.

Sure enough, one last graze of lasered-white teeth against perfectly applied Chanel lip-color later, she says, “Hon, are you sure that’s what you want to wear on your first day of school?”

I look down. I’m wearing a frayed t-shirt, an old pair of jeans that had probably worn out their coolness years ago, and a pair of scuffed up sneakers. Not as awful as I’d like, to be honest. I completely procrastinated on my mission to stock up on school clothes at the local discount store. But my blond hair is pulled back into a haphazard braid that makes me look about twelve, and instead of contacts, I’m wearing my ancient square glasses—the ones my brother used to tease me were only fit for one-hundred year old librarians. Or asexual men.

“Yes, this is exactly what I want to wear.”

Mom opens her mouth as if to protest, but appears to think the better of it. “Okay, hon. Just remember, everything will be fine.” She’s using that soft, soothing voice I hate, the one that says she thinks I’m a wild, injured animal that needs to be approached with extra care. And I know she’s not finished; we’ve been here before. Soothing voice is always followed by some false platitude about how I’m really such a nice girl.

Wait for it. Wait for it. “You’re a good person—whether you believe it or not.”

But she can’t hold my gaze when she says it, she never can; instead, she turns to fuss with the already perfect place setting.

We both know she’s lying.

I don’t reply, but my silence speaks volumes. I grab a single piece of toast off a plate groaning with pancakes, eggs, the works. Because it’s a universal mom fact that food will solve everything that’s wrong in the world. I sling my backpack over my shoulder.

“You have to eat more than that before your first day,” she frets.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks though,” I add, leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek. After all, it’s not her fault. “Besides, I need to get going if I’m going to walk.”

Mom frowns. “I still don’t know why you’re planning on walking. You have a perfectly good car.”

Too good—that was the problem. I didn’t want to show up for the first day at my new school in a Lexus convertible. “Haven’t you heard? Exercise is good for you.”

“Funny.”

I try to smile, but my mouth fumbles over how to form one. It feels like decades have passed since I’ve activated those particular muscles. In reality, it’s only been a few months. “See ya later.”

Comments appreciated, as always!

I walk through campus and take in all the buildings, the quad, the school I’ve attended for the past three years. My eyes seek a tangible clue, a scrap of evidence that things have changed.

But I find…nothing. The familiar stucco walls are still the color of butterscotch, the grass in the senior courtyard the same vibrant shade of green. Even the old oak sprawling proudly through the middle of campus appears to have the same number of leaves. The kids laughing and gossiping their way past me in huddles are talking about the same meaningless topics as always…parties, dates, homework.

I turn to cut through the corridor toward homeroom, when I spot him.

James.

My heart slams to a halt in my chest. Then, it kick-starts into an unsteady gait, like an athlete’s first limping step after an injury.

As I watch him lean into a curvy dark-haired girl, his arm loosely draped across her shoulders, I finally pinpoint what’s different. It’s not the school, or the students, or anything that I can touch. It’s my hold on James. Always tenuous at best, my slippery claim to him has faded along with the intensity of the summer sun.

Anyway–this scene comes in pretty close to the story’s climax. Shade just found Summer talking to Cody in a deserted hallway during the school dance. The boy clearly isn’t in good shape, not at all, and he’s wanting to know if there’s something going on between our heroine and another guy. Here goes:

SNIPPED!

At any rate, this Teaser follows shortly after the one a few weeks ago, where the MC Summer discovers that a lewd photo of her and Billy, a guy she despises, was photo-shopped and sent around the school. This is Billy catching up with her afterwards. Oh, and, if this is your first time–the MC has been hearing voices for a few days now. As usual, all comments welcomed and appreciated!

SNIPPED!