Cara Shultz: The Dark World

She didn’t understand how Dylan had ended up in the street. He hadn’t even remembered how he got there. But Dylan was a rambunctious kid, and it had been Melody’s greatest fear that he’d run off into the street and get hurt. She’d insisted that she was holding his hand tightly one second—and then he was in the middle of the intersection at Tenth Avenue and Forty-Ninth Street the next, terrified and frozen in place as a car made a very wide, very dangerous turn from the far lane, nearly hitting the four-year-old. I had been walking home from a friend’s house, saw what was about to happen, and shoved Dylan out of the way. The driver had slammed on the brakes and swerved, missing Dylan and ramming right into me. Fortunately for me, we hadn’t been far from a hospital. Melody had begged me to accept the bracelet, and finally I did, mostly to make her feel better. Now, I probably couldn’t get through a day without it. I wore it every day as a reminder: when someone called me a loser, I could touch the bracelet and remember that there were a few people who were glad I was around.

And after gym class, it was gone.

I knew I’d locked my locker. And I knew I’d left it on the top shelf, right next to my earrings. But now, the space was empty. I pulled everything out, flipped through textbooks and even checked the sleeves of my coat, but I knew I wouldn’t find it. I always put it in the same spot, and it was gone. I stared at the empty dark green metal shelf, willing the bracelet to appear.

“I guess she lost something—other than her mind, I mean,” Andie Ward sniped from across the locker room, earning a few quiet snickers in reply.

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t find my bracelet,” I said before turning around to face the locker room. “Has anyone seen it? It’s a platinum bracelet, with a lacy, scrolled design. Anyone?”

Silence.

“Is she talking to us?” Andie stage-whispered, and the laughter this time wasn’t as muted.

“Yes, Andie, I am talking to you,” I said, making an effort to keep my voice steady. “To everyone, actually. I had my bracelet in my locker. Now, it’s gone. Please. Has anyone seen it?”

A few girls offered muttered “Sorry’s” and “No, I haven’t seen it.” Tabitha even offered to help me look, and we fell to our knees and peered under the lockers, seeing nothing but dust and—oh, gross—mouse traps.

“Sorry, Paige. I hope you find it,” Tabitha said, twisting her last earring in place before grabbing her bag. “I gotta get to class.”

I thanked Tabitha and sat down on the bench between the row of lockers, steeling myself to face my next class when all I wanted to do was go home.

The first bell rang, and I put my things back in my locker, resolving to come back at lunch and break into Andie’s locker if I needed to. Maybe she took it...maybe she’s helping Pepper get revenge for my comment about her extracurricular activities with Diego. I couldn’t figure out how someone could get the combination on my lock, though. Hadn’t I locked it?

I ran up the stairs to homeroom, my hand automatically reaching for my right wrist to play with the bracelet, and my mood fell even more when I was reminded that it wasn’t there.

That’s when I heard him.

“Paige—hey, Paige, wait up,” Logan called. His footsteps thudded on the stairs as he raced after me. I fumbled in my bag for a pen and grabbed the first one I felt—a pink one with feathers on the top.

“Here,” I said quickly, shoving the pen at him as I continued to run up the stairs. Matching my pace, he took the pen and stared at it with confusion.

“What? No, I don’t need a pen. Um, you dropped something,” he said, his cheeks flushed pink and his voice a little breathy. I stopped short, pulling over to the side of the stairway to make way for the crush of students running up the stairs, and slid my backpack off my shoulder to inspect its contents. I figured I hadn’t zipped it shut in my frenzy over my bracelet, but it was closed.

“This is yours, right?” Logan reached into the pocket of his black school pants before extending his hand. There, coiled in his palm, was my bracelet.

Relief flooded through my system, making me almost light-headed. I dropped my backpack from my hands, and it fell down a few steps as I grabbed the delicate bracelet.

“Oh, my God! Where did you find this? Thank you so much!” I grasped the bracelet in my fist and curled it close to my heart. “This is really sentimental, so I was freaking out a little bit,” I admitted.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Logan said, and I blinked in surprise.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” I asked. “I’d probably be spending tonight listening to depressing music, wearing a black veil and writing poetry to my lost, abandoned bracelet if it weren’t for you. So, thanks.”

I draped the bracelet over my wrist as I tried to refasten it.

“Wow, you’re really...” His voice trailed off as he took his baseball hat off, running one hand through his floppy brown hair before setting the cap back on his head.

“I’m really...?” I repeated, my voice rising in pitch.

“You’re really random—but in a good way,” he hastily added when he saw the slightly insulted look on my face. “I like it. I mean, it’s funny.”

“Oh. Um, sorry?” I stammered, thrown by his comment.

“Don’t be sorry,” Logan said, his lips quirked up in a smile. “So, do you want to get it on?” He held his hand out to me.

My eyebrows shot up as I stared at his outstretched hand before glancing at the students around me. I didn’t have a ton of experience with the opposite sex, but things couldn’t have changed that much from when I dated Chris two years ago. Who asks that? People don’t just ask that question in public...do they? I thought only Dottie used that term. What the hell had I missed while I was talking to ghosts?

“Um, what—what did you say?” I sputtered.

Logan flicked his fingers toward my wrist. “The bracelet? You need help getting that on? You want to wear it now, right?”

“Oh, yeah—of course. Thanks,” I stammered, handing him the bracelet and holding my wrist out, hoping he didn’t see how flustered I was. I said a silent thanks that Dottie wasn’t there. She would have told me to grab his hand and kiss it, most likely. Or tell me I should pretend to faint and let him catch me.

“How did you know this was mine?” I asked as he grasped the ends of the bracelet. The tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the skin on the inside of my wrist, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Who knew the skin on the inside of my wrist was so sensitive?

“I saw it fall off your wrist,” Logan said, closing the clasp on my bracelet.

“What?” I shook my head. “No. This was taken from my locker.”

“I saw it fall off your wrist just now,” Logan insisted. “I just saw it happen. That’s how I knew it was yours.”

“But I could have sworn...” I began, confused, and Logan just shrugged, giving me a sympathetic smile. The second bell rang—and we both had to run up the stairs, me to homeroom, Logan to whatever class he had next. I twisted the bracelet now that it was safely back on my wrist, satisfying my nervous urge, which was growing stronger. Had I imagined that I took off the bracelet? Why didn’t I get yelled at in gym class for wearing it, then? Did I put it on and forget about it?

And then a small, but strong voice in the back of my head whispered my biggest fear.

Maybe you really are losing your mind.

I opened my homeroom door, hoping Mrs. Clifton would be late to class so I could silently puzzle over my confusing morning and avoid detention. Instead, she was standing in front of the room, introducing three of the four new students I’d seen with Vice Principal Miller yesterday. Guess Miller managed to scare off the fourth prospective student. Not surprising: he was as inviting as a poison-ivy welcome mat.