Sleep No More
Page 21
Maybe he’ll live.
But no, there he is, lying in the snow beside me.
Seconds pass and I keep waiting for something to be different. But nothing is. When the light in the foretelling dims and the scene disappears, I blink until my physical sight registers the murky twilight in my room again.
I don’t get it. Why would I have the vision again?
A thought I’ve been trying to stamp out wriggles its way to the surface and this time I let myself dwell on it.
Maybe I’m meant to do this. If there’s more to being an Oracle than I ever suspected, maybe we are supposed to help. Is it so far-fetched to wonder if I’m destined to stop these deaths? If that’s why the foretellings I have about them are so strong? And that this one has come to me twice?
Believing in destiny and fate kind of goes hand in hand with being an Oracle. So why shouldn’t this be my fate?
Still conflicted, I reach into my backpack and pull out the necklace I borrowed from Smith. Again, it feels too warm. I cradle it in my hands and stare at the stone that seems to be all colors and no colors all at the same time. I hold it up to the light, but that doesn’t make the colors clarify at all. If anything, it looks even more multihued.
Is it really a focus stone? Can it help save people?
There’s only one way to find out.
And one person who can show me.
My mom’s words echo in my mind: Some things in this world are so amazing, you have to risk everything to get them.
What could be more amazing than saving someone’s life?
I picture Jesse’s face in my mind. Alive Jesse. Working together at my house on our art project—one of the only classmates who’s ever come here.
And then I picture him dead in the snow. I see the purple bruises on his chest and wonder how excruciating it must be to have the life literally choked out of you.
Maybe I won’t succeed, but I have to try.
TWELVE
I’m nervous. Like, meeting-a-first-date nervous.
Not that I actually know how that feels.
I decided we should meet somewhere more private this time. So I chose the library, which has private study rooms that you can reserve.
I should have realized Smith would be there before me.
“Do you have it?”
Not hello, not I’m so glad you made this decision. “Yes,” I reply with more than a little duh in my tone. When Smith doesn’t look convinced, I pull the pouch out of my pocket and hand it over.
And he still unfastens the drawstrings and looks inside to check.
“Maybe you need to learn to trust me,” I say dryly.
He doesn’t meet my eyes as he nods. “I know. I know,” he says, almost to himself. “I’ve just spent so many years . . .” His words trail off as he slides the necklace onto his palm. “We should get started.”
A jolt of fear races through my whole body, but the decision is made. Whatever he has to teach me, I’m determined to learn. “I had the vision again last night,” I offer after I close and lock the study-room door and jiggle the blinds shut. “The one about Jesse.”
“Exactly the same?”
“I think so.”
“Tell me about it.”
Despite the closed door and thick walls, I lean forward and lower my voice to a bare hush. I tell him about Jesse, the strangulation marks, and what I remember about the scene. Smith tents his fingers and lifts them to his lips, contemplating for a few seconds. “I can teach you to change the scene on your own—and I will,” he adds. “But I think for this first one I should come into your vision and coach you.”
“What do you mean, ‘come into’?” I ask, the fear returning with a vengeance.
“With both of us in contact with the stone, I can enter the vision with you. I have no power there, but I can help.”
It sounds so bizarre.
“You’re really going to have to trust me.”
“Okay.” He must hear the hesitation in my voice.
“Not just with your secrets. I need you to trust me to . . . get into your head, essentially. It’ll only be for a few minutes, max, but you have to open yourself entirely. Hold nothing back.”
“You can save him?” I ask, letting that last drop of doubt seep through.
“I can show you how to save him.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then I trust you.” I’ll make myself trust him. For Jesse.
“Okay,” Smith says, pulling his chair closer until our knees are touching. “We both need to be in contact with the stone. You, so you can return to your foretelling, and me, so I can come with you.”
Again my stomach clenches at the thought of anyone else seeing my visions. My life—my already bizarre life—has turned completely upside down.
“Shelby and I did this hundreds of times,” Smith says when I don’t reach out for the necklace. “I promise, it’s safe. Strange, but safe.”
I nod and then lay my hands on top of his so we’re cradling the stone in between our two palms.
“No, no,” Smith says, moving my hand. “It’s easier if you can see the stone.”
I adjust and we start again.
“Okay, gaze into the stone and bring forward the scene you saw with Jesse. Then put yourself back in it.”
Back in it? Back into one of the most terrifying experiences of my life? But this is how I can change it. No risk, no reward. Here goes nothing. I look at the stone—it seems pink now—and picture the scene. When I’m sure I have it fixed in my head, I say, “Okay.”
But no, there he is, lying in the snow beside me.
Seconds pass and I keep waiting for something to be different. But nothing is. When the light in the foretelling dims and the scene disappears, I blink until my physical sight registers the murky twilight in my room again.
I don’t get it. Why would I have the vision again?
A thought I’ve been trying to stamp out wriggles its way to the surface and this time I let myself dwell on it.
Maybe I’m meant to do this. If there’s more to being an Oracle than I ever suspected, maybe we are supposed to help. Is it so far-fetched to wonder if I’m destined to stop these deaths? If that’s why the foretellings I have about them are so strong? And that this one has come to me twice?
Believing in destiny and fate kind of goes hand in hand with being an Oracle. So why shouldn’t this be my fate?
Still conflicted, I reach into my backpack and pull out the necklace I borrowed from Smith. Again, it feels too warm. I cradle it in my hands and stare at the stone that seems to be all colors and no colors all at the same time. I hold it up to the light, but that doesn’t make the colors clarify at all. If anything, it looks even more multihued.
Is it really a focus stone? Can it help save people?
There’s only one way to find out.
And one person who can show me.
My mom’s words echo in my mind: Some things in this world are so amazing, you have to risk everything to get them.
What could be more amazing than saving someone’s life?
I picture Jesse’s face in my mind. Alive Jesse. Working together at my house on our art project—one of the only classmates who’s ever come here.
And then I picture him dead in the snow. I see the purple bruises on his chest and wonder how excruciating it must be to have the life literally choked out of you.
Maybe I won’t succeed, but I have to try.
TWELVE
I’m nervous. Like, meeting-a-first-date nervous.
Not that I actually know how that feels.
I decided we should meet somewhere more private this time. So I chose the library, which has private study rooms that you can reserve.
I should have realized Smith would be there before me.
“Do you have it?”
Not hello, not I’m so glad you made this decision. “Yes,” I reply with more than a little duh in my tone. When Smith doesn’t look convinced, I pull the pouch out of my pocket and hand it over.
And he still unfastens the drawstrings and looks inside to check.
“Maybe you need to learn to trust me,” I say dryly.
He doesn’t meet my eyes as he nods. “I know. I know,” he says, almost to himself. “I’ve just spent so many years . . .” His words trail off as he slides the necklace onto his palm. “We should get started.”
A jolt of fear races through my whole body, but the decision is made. Whatever he has to teach me, I’m determined to learn. “I had the vision again last night,” I offer after I close and lock the study-room door and jiggle the blinds shut. “The one about Jesse.”
“Exactly the same?”
“I think so.”
“Tell me about it.”
Despite the closed door and thick walls, I lean forward and lower my voice to a bare hush. I tell him about Jesse, the strangulation marks, and what I remember about the scene. Smith tents his fingers and lifts them to his lips, contemplating for a few seconds. “I can teach you to change the scene on your own—and I will,” he adds. “But I think for this first one I should come into your vision and coach you.”
“What do you mean, ‘come into’?” I ask, the fear returning with a vengeance.
“With both of us in contact with the stone, I can enter the vision with you. I have no power there, but I can help.”
It sounds so bizarre.
“You’re really going to have to trust me.”
“Okay.” He must hear the hesitation in my voice.
“Not just with your secrets. I need you to trust me to . . . get into your head, essentially. It’ll only be for a few minutes, max, but you have to open yourself entirely. Hold nothing back.”
“You can save him?” I ask, letting that last drop of doubt seep through.
“I can show you how to save him.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then I trust you.” I’ll make myself trust him. For Jesse.
“Okay,” Smith says, pulling his chair closer until our knees are touching. “We both need to be in contact with the stone. You, so you can return to your foretelling, and me, so I can come with you.”
Again my stomach clenches at the thought of anyone else seeing my visions. My life—my already bizarre life—has turned completely upside down.
“Shelby and I did this hundreds of times,” Smith says when I don’t reach out for the necklace. “I promise, it’s safe. Strange, but safe.”
I nod and then lay my hands on top of his so we’re cradling the stone in between our two palms.
“No, no,” Smith says, moving my hand. “It’s easier if you can see the stone.”
I adjust and we start again.
“Okay, gaze into the stone and bring forward the scene you saw with Jesse. Then put yourself back in it.”
Back in it? Back into one of the most terrifying experiences of my life? But this is how I can change it. No risk, no reward. Here goes nothing. I look at the stone—it seems pink now—and picture the scene. When I’m sure I have it fixed in my head, I say, “Okay.”
