I woke the next day feeling as if I had barely slept at all. My alarm clock rang with a head splitting beep and I had to force myself not to press snooze. I ran late and almost missed my bus, which wouldn’t have really been a shame or anything, and forgot my homework in my rush. I could tell it was going to be a long day.

    When I got to school, I bypassed my friends all together and headed for art, really needing the quite to prepare myself for the the day.

    I walked in the room, and froze.

    Mrs. Smith was sitting at a table, like she usually did in the morning, but this time she wasn't alone. Nobody but me ever went in there in the morning. However, right in front of me, with her back turned, was a girl I didn't recognize. I turned around to leave, not particularly wanting people to know that I spent my mornings hiding in a supply closet.

   "Asher!" Mrs. Smith regarded me. "How are you this morning?"

    I turned back around slowly. The girl was looking at me now. For some reason, my eyes were automatically drawn to hers. I tried  to look at them without really looking at them. When I say them, something stirred in my mind. They were a shade of green that I couldn't quite put my finger on, yet they seemed so familiar. I got that fuzzy feeling in my head again. I realized that I hadn't answered Mrs. Smith, but she had already gone back to whatever she was doing. The girl, however, was looking at me curiously, as if waiting for me to speak.

    "Uh, hi." I said simply, giving a weak wave as the feeling in my head grew stronger.

    She gave me a warm smile. "Hi, I'm Makelti," she said.

    "Asher," I replied, trying not to show my surprise at her name.

    She simply nodded and went back to facing away, assumedly working on some sort of project. I took the opportunity to slip out the door.

    I didn't know how much longer I could hold it back, my vision was already beginning to go dark around the edges. I hurried down the crowded hallway, dodging people that I didn't even really know I could see. I tried to go at a steady pace so I didn't alarm anyone, but I couldn't. I needed to get to the bathroom before I blacked out in the middle of the hallway.

    When I got to the bathroom I headed for the stall. Almost as soon I got the door locked, my vision went black altogether.

    Those eyes. I thought to myself as a black haired girl extended her hand to me. We were at a party, but somehow she showed no sign of being drunk. I, on the other hand, was hammered.

    Her green eyes shone as she extended her hand to me. "Hello, my name is Makelti."

    I came out of it, confused. I didn't even have time to catch my bearings before I blacked out again.

    A girl stood at the bleachers, she must have been a cheerleader because she had a uniform on. She seemed to be waiting for someone.

    It was raining and cold and she looked confused. I figured her ride was late, considering cheerleading practice ended fifteen minutes ago. I glanced at her again. She had long brown hair that was pulled in a ponytail. I couldn't see her face too well, but her figure was to die for. I switched courses and headed for the bleachers.

    As I approach her I say "Hey, I don't mean to be a creep, but do you need a ride or something? It's pretty cold to be standing out here in that uniform."

   Most girls may have been offended, or thought I was trying to come onto them, but she just smiled. "That would be such a blessing, thank you." She thought for a second. "Oh, I'm Makelti by the way."

    The next one was very similar, but this time she had blond hair and I seemed to be an exceptional student. I was assigned to be her tutor. It was like any standard romantic comedy I had ever been tricked into watching.

    It went on like that for a while. Meeting her in several different scenarios. Nothing like this had ever happened before. It was always just one and then it was over. Also, it hadn't been so persistent since I was little. There were times I held it back for hours when I needed to.

    By the time I was sure it had stopped, I was late for first period. I swore under my breath and rushed to English. At least, I tried to rush. I was still in a haze and it was hard to tell if my feet were actually moving as fast as I was telling them to. It was like I was still stuck halfway outside my body, this was normal. Fortunately, by the time I actually got to class, the effect had all but worn off.

    I walked in, expecting a lecture. However when I walked by Mr. Adams, he said nothing. He looked up from the papers he was grading long enough to verify I was indeed supposed to be there, and then went back to work. It was almost like everyone was in a trance. Everybody was either looking intently at their work, or hiding their faces in frustration. Anybody who had a habit of disrupting the class wasn't there, assumedly already been thrown out so everyone else could focus.

    I went back to my desk as quietly as I could. A practice test was already sitting readily on my desk. I sat down and started it, but I couldn't focus. There had to be a reason this "attack" was so much different then usual. There had to be some sort of significance, but I just couldn't figure out what it could be. I went through everything I had done that day, wondering if I had done something to trigger it. Of course, I came up short.

    The only thing that hadn't been exactly the same as every other day was that girl in the art room... Makelti. Of course, the "attack" had something to do with her, considering it was her in the visions. That still didn't explain, however, why it was so different. They have been triggered by people in the past, but never like this. To be completely honest, it freaked me out a little. I hated not being in control and in the dark, about anything, let alone something like this.

    For just a second, I let myself fantasies about confiding in my mom about it. She was extraordinarily smart, and if anyone could help me figure it out, it would be her. Of course, I couldn't mention it to her. I could already see the annoyed slash concerned look on her face.

    'Oh honey,' she would say, shaking her head 'I thought we were past this.' Following would be a half frantic call to my old psychiatrist. They would talk and make me an appointment. I, of course, would have no say in the matter. 'Remember what we talked about at your last appointment. If you have another attack you have to go back to therapy. You agreed dear, remember?' She would do all this immediately, and I'm sure the appointment would be scheduled as a crisis that same night.

    Yeah, I definitely couldn't mention it to mom. She just agreed to take me off the antipsychotics that did nothing to help my so called "hallucinations". She thought I was crazy, though she just told me that I was just sick and needed help. 'You know, just like if you had the flu or something.' those were her exact words the first time she made me take the medicine.

    Of course, at that point in time, I thought I was crazy. At times, I would still wonder.

I ran through the woods, branches crunched beneath my bare feet, but I wasn’t  feeling it. My eyes darted nervously around the dark. Focussing on the figure in front of me, I kept moving despite common sense telling me to stop.

    “Hey, wait up,” I yelled after them. “Are you alright?”

    However, the figure didn’t  stop moving, in fact it seemed to speed up. No matter how fast I ran I wasn’t getting any closer. I should’ve be out of breath, but I wasn't. My feet, which should have been sore and cut up from running unprotected, still moving effortlessly below me.

    Suddenly, the mysterious person stopped moving, and my feet halted immediately, seemingly without me wanting to. Slowly, they turned around and I could tell it was a girl. As they moved closer, I couldn’t make out any of her features really except her eyes. They seemed to glow with a pale green color. They looked glazed over, yet I could see the fear in them. A fear so crippling it radiated from her.

    “Are you okay?” I asked again as I moved slowly closer.

    She looked at me, her head cocking to the side ever so slightly, studying me. Perhaps she didn’t know if I could be trusted.

    Apparently she decided not, because when I looked away and then back, she was gone. The forest broke open with a blinding light. An obnoxious beeping noise sounded in my head as the scene gave way to my bedroom.

                                *                                              *                                      *

    I opened my eyes to heard my alarm’s insistent sound, and see it flashing seven o’ clock. Reluctantly, I turned it off and dragged myself out of bed. As I put on jeans and a t-shirt, my dream from the night before was all but forgotten.

    It took me all of ten minutes to get ready. I dressed, combed my hair and brushed my teeth. I searched the kitchen for a good breakfast, but came up empty. I settled with a bowl of cereal and an apple. Another ten minutes and I had scarfed it down, put on my shoes, grabbed my bag and was out the door.

    Riding the bus added at least a half an hour to my day, and I hated it.

There wasn’t much I could do however,, since I didn’t have enough gas money to drive everyday. So I stood outside, leaning against my car, waiting for a bus full of obnoxious, screaming teens.

    The bus pulled up, stopping with a loud squeak in front of my driveway. I braced myself before I got on. Struggling through the mob of my peers who could never seem to keep their legs anywhere near the inside of their seats., I found a seat somewhere near the middle.

    The ride to school always felt longer than it was, so I let out a quiet sigh of relief when the bus reached it’s destination. A flood of middle schoolers and high schoolers poured out, I waited in my seat until the bus was empty, then followed them into the school.

“Asher!” Someone called from somewhere in front of me as I walked through the halls on the way to my locker.

Squinting a little, I saw a group of my friends gathered in the hallway. I went over and joined the little circle.

“How was your weekend?” Gabe asked and the rest of the group seemed to stare at me.

I ran my fingers through my black hair and shrugged. “It was okay, you know, the usual.” they all pretty much knew what that meant.

“Sat at home?” Gabe mocked.

I smiled, not answering him. He knew he was right anyway.

The conversation they had been having before I joined, fell back into  progress. I tried to listen at first, but  I gave up quickly. As much as I tried to be an active part of the group, I couldn’t. They were my friends and all,  but I just couldn’t get excited about the things they did. When we did talk about something that could hold my attention, the subject was always changed quickly.

As the murmur of their conversation struggled to break through the barrier of my own thoughts, more people started arriving. My bus was always early, and Gabe and the others drove in early to catch up on their nights, which they made out to be more interesting than I assume they actually were.

Being still ten minutes left before class, people gathered at each others lockers and the halls were soon filled with mindless chattering and gossip. That was my cue to leave. I said goodbye and made my way out of the circle.  They all just wave, even Gabe, who had finally given up asking where I go in the last ten minutes before class.

I headed for the art room, where I had been  going every morning since freshman year. I didn’t tell my friends because I was afraid they would tag along. As much as I enjoyed company most of the time,  I needed this quiet time in the morning.

“Good morning Asher,” Mrs. Smith, the art teacher, said cheerfully.

She had found me in the supply closet in ninth grade, after one of my “Attacks”.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, a bit of annoyance creeping into her voice.

My first reaction was to stand up, which only served to make me look more suspicious. My head scrambled to think of a lie, never even considering to tell the truth. I came up empty.

“Well?” She asked, staring at me.

We seemed to stand there for whole minutes, though it must have been more  like seconds. The air between us was tense and I’m sure I looked like the personification of guilty. Finally, looking at my feet, I spoke.

“All the noise,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “I couldn’t think.” It was the closest to the truth I could come without sounding absolutely crazy.

She remained staring at me for another painfully long stretch, and I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I couldn’t go back to sitting in the bathroom , where the noise was better, but the smell most definitely wasn’t . After studying me, assumably for any sign of drug use or something of the sort, she gave me a smile, nodded, and walked away.

After that, I started coming into her room every day before  class. I even came in during lunch sometimes to help her around the classroom. She never questioned why I hid in her closet, she just accepted it.

I nodded to her in way of greeting  on my way into the side room that served  as her supply closet. My head was already feeling foggy, but  I forced  it back. I had an unspoken agreement with myself that I would except what was happening, but on my terms. I ducked into the room and sat at a broken desk that was being stored in the back. Setting my bookbag on the desk, I took a deep breath. Finally, I gave into the stuff that had been building, pushing to the surface, since I got to school.

              *                                 *                                               *

    The rest of the day went by painfully slow. Most of my classes were studying for  the midterms. Pushing us to fill our heads with  half a years worth of numbers, vocabulary words, formulas. Most teens could remember information until it was time to take a test on that unit, and then forget it, forcing them to  re-remember all of it for the midterm, and then again for the final. I was no exception.

    The worst part was knowing that it was coming in just a week, and not being able to remember most of the information. Stuffing as much as you can into your brain, hoping that it can keep everything straight.

    The only part of my day that didn’t make me want to tear all of my hair out was lunch. I went back to the art room to  help Mrs. Smith hang up artwork.

    Aside from the impeccable quality of the  work on the wall,  it could have been mistaken for an elementary classroom. All bright colors and student work. Even the chairs and desks were ridiculously colorful. If you asked Mrs. Smith why, she would tell you that it helps the creative juices. Me, on the other hand, I think that it’s her way of making highschool seem a little less like hell.

    After lunch, it was more shoving information into my head.

    When I finally got home, I was mentally exhausted. I tried to start homework, but my mind revolted. I couldn’t focus on calculous for longer than two minutes at a time before I started thinking about, well, anything but.

    Not much later, I gave up. Sighing, I put down my book and lied back on my bed.

    I let my mind wander for a while.

    Maybe Gabe was right, my life was pretty boring. I never went out to wild parties or went on weekend camping trips with my friends. I wasn’t the wild highschool type.

    I liked my uneventful life, but I didn’t want to leave high school without doing anything worth remembering. I did soccer, but I was no better or worse than anyone else. I was neither extraordinarily smart, or popular. The sad truth was  that I was painfully ordinary. Even worse, the only thing that set me apart is the one thing I didn’t want people to know.

    Maybe I should go to that party this weekend, I thought to myself. I pushed it out of my head almost as soon as it popped in. In another life, I’m sure I was partying and living it up, but in this one, it just wasn’t me.

    I could hear the front door open and close from my bedroom at the top of the stairs. Mom was home. I got up and went out to say hi, like I did everyday.

    “Hey mom. How was your day?” I asked as we both automatically headed to the kitchen.

    “It was okay,” she answered, getting a strawberry yogurt from the fridge. “A couple stubborn patients, but not as bad as it has been.”

    I grabbed an apple and tossed it back and forth between my hands.

    “How was school?” She asked, sitting down at the table. I didn’t know that she was really interested, we were just going through the motions.

    “It was okay,” I answered, “boring.”

    I leaned against the counter and bit into the apple. We ate in silence for a couple minutes before she broke it.

    “Your dad called,” she beamed. “He’s coming home tomorrow.”

    Dad was almost never home. He was always on some business trip. This time, he was in Chicago.

    I nodded, taking another bite of my apple so I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to talk about him. I hated to see the happiness in her eyes, the hope that maybe this time he would stay for awhile. Then to see that hope crushed again maybe a week later, when he would tell her he had to leave again.

    She looked at me, waiting for a reaction. I chewed my apple meticulously. She sighed and looked down, focusing on her yogurt. Neither of us spoke for a while. I felt bad for not at least trying to act excited, but I just couldn’t.

    “He asked how you were doing,” she said, matter of factly.

    I swallowed the piece of apple in my mouth. “He usually does.”

    “I told him you miss and love him.” She said with a smile.

    I had to choke back a scoff. Instead, I forced a smile for her sake. “Thanks mom.”

    She nodded, satisfied, and I went back to my room.

    Mom was making dinner tonight, and we had another hour and a half until that. I sat back down on my bed and decided to give my homework another try. It took twice as long as it usually did, but I finally got it finished after staring at the book for an hour.

    Shortly afterwards, mom called me out for dinner. We ate in silence.  

    I went to bed early, since I knew I still had tons of  midterm studying ahead of me in the days to come.

    I woke the next day feeling as if I had barely slept at all. My alarm clock rang with a head splitting beep and I had to force myself not to press snooze. I ran late and almost missed my bus, which wouldn’t have really been a shame or anything, and forgot my homework in my rush. I could tell it was going to be a long day.

    When I got to school, I bypassed my friends all together and headed for art, really needing the quite to prepare myself for the the day.

    I walked in the room, and froze.

    Mrs. Smith was sitting at a table, like she usually did in the morning, but this time she wasn't alone. Nobody but me ever went in there in the morning. However, right in front of me, with her back turned, was a girl I didn't recognize. I turned around to leave, not particularly wanting people to know that I spent my mornings hiding in a supply closet.

   "Asher!" Mrs. Smith regarded me. "How are you this morning?"