Chapter 3: Making Enemies

As I gradually became aware of my surroundings, I was 100% sure I was hallucinating again. I was in his arms, my head against his shoulder. Everyone had started to crowd around and I vaguely heard his calm voice tell them to back off and let me catch my breath.

My head was spinning, so without moving too much, I tried to get another good look at him. Wow, I was right about the Jared Leto thing! At least he wasn't as short as the actual Mr. Leto though. I would dwarf him in real life... I realized I was succumbing to completely irrelevant thoughts and fought to break out of my haze.

This couldn't possibly be happening. Wake up! Think straight!

Protectively, he held me tighter as I struggled to get free. My heart was beating out of my chest with rage and fear. I felt so sure he was... HIM. The digital intruder. The figment of my crazy imagination. But here he was, holding me in his arms, looking at me with wide eyed concern and shock.

"Let go of me!" I screamed incoherently.

Startled, he loosened his grip. "But Molly, are you sure you're ok? You just passed out!" he seemed unsure of what to do next.

Claire dropped to my side and began pleading with me, "Moll, not here, not now!"

I knew she was trying to suppress her selfish, insecure worry, but there wasn't much compassion in her voice as she whispered to me, "they're all going to think we're crazy!"

It was obvious she was starting to think I was crazy, but right then, I just didn't care. Even if Teague wasn't the ghost, the holo, the hallucination, whatever, I wasn't about to stick around and find out.

I bolted to my feet, knocking Teague backward onto the grass. "Mitch, I need to go home. Now. Please." The panic was rising in my throat.

I could tell he was scared to say no. "Yeah. Sure... uh, Claire? You wanna come with us??"

She nodded sheepishly, embarrassed. I quickly scanned the crowd: puzzled, worried and amused faces staring at me and the scene I had just made. Claire with her head hanging, overcome. And Teague, still on the ground, his expression deflated, pained with concern and rejection.

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned and ran for the road, down the long driveway, away from the incredulous crowd and into the night.

________________________

I had probably made it almost a mile by the time the headlights pulled up behind me.

"Molly! Moll Doll! Please, please, get in the car, we'll take you home!" Claire yelled from the open window as they approached.

I slowed my gait and finally halted to cross my arms over my head and catch my breath. The run had done me some good. My head was a little clearer, less terror wracked my brain. But I still couldn't reconcile all of the events of the day. Maybe my memory wasn't accurate; maybe Teague just looked enough like my hallucination to make me mistake him for one and the same; maybe I was totally and completely crazy and I needed medication to fix my broken brain...

"PLEASE get in the car, Moll..." now Claire was pleading, her self consciousness gone, true concern causing her voice to break.

I shuffled back and waited for Claire to scootch over to the middle of the car next to Mitch. I ducked into the passenger seat, wondering what to say to them.

Mitch leaned forward around Claire. "You ok? That was pretty gnarly back there."

I didn't answer. Instead I looked at my cuticles, deciding which finger to chew on.

"I tried to get Teague to come," he continued, "but he was convinced you freaked out because of him for some reason. I told him he was crazy, but he just wanted to get home."

Get home... initially, when I had seen Teague's dark hair falling over his ice blue eyes, the only thing I could think about was how he had somehow tricked me. Made a fool of me. He was the one who had caused my episodes, projected himself into my life. Conspired with Joey. But now all could see in my memory was his trusting expression. The way his eyes had briefly searched mine for a sign of understanding and acceptance. He didn't mean me any harm, it was clear. And Claire and I had already debunked the holo hypothesis... Oh god, if I had been wrong, what did he think of me now? After he admitted our strangely rapid connection and trusted me with his pain? I had left him there, on the grass, stunned, with no explanation.

"Is he ok?" I blurted, realizing it must seem like a strange question after everything that had happened. Everything I had done.

"We’ll get you home and in bed safe, k Molly?" Claire chose to ignore my question. She wrapped her arm through mine and hugged me close.

The clock on the El Camino's dash glowed only 11:28 pm but I realized how good bed really sounded. Regardless, this had felt like one of the longest days of my life.

_____________________

The next morning I called my mom to see how my family was doing. And yeah, to hopefully get some motherly words of encouragement. It was obvious she was still sad I hadn't decided to come back to Minnesota after graduation, but that wasn't my life anymore, and hadn't been for almost five years. Plummer didn't have anything to offer a NRE grad with an Orgo minor, except maybe mixing chemicals together to create "food" for livestock. And if not on a farm, I certainly wasn't going to work at the post office, the one grocery store, the single restaurant or the solitary bar in town.

My two older siblings had moved away after college, too, but for some reason mom had always expected me to come back. I mean, REALLY expected me to come back. in the years after they moved out, Shannon and Owen's rooms slowly became the sewing room and a library, but she hadn't changed a thing in my room since I had left home as a freshman. The first couple summers I had gone home and stayed in the huge castle of a farm house on the prairie feeling restless and bored. After that I had stayed summers in Ann Arbor to take an internship at the DNR.

Of course, that was the first thing she asked me after she said hello. "Molly honey, when are you coming home? It’s been so long. Don’t you miss us?"

The guilt trip. Big surprise.

"Of course I do, I just don't miss Plummer."

"You're getting too modernized for us, Mol. you're such a big city girl now."

I knew what she was getting at. She couldn't stand most of the new technologies college students were embracing. Sure, she was fine with the Internet and social networking sites, but she still felt like bio-passes, telechips, holo-casters, motohancers and even wristscans were too invasive and scary. I guess I had gotten a lot of my feelings on the subject from her.

"Ma," I used this term of endearment for her ever since she had read me Little House on the Prairie as a child, even though I would never say it in front of anyone else, "Don't worry so much about me. I’m like the only kid I know who doesn't have a telechip."

"But Moll, why do you need that stuff? I understood the wrist scan when you went to college - student records, security and all that stuff - but beyond that, why do you have to be so wired into the system?"

I couldn't really argue with her. For the most part I agreed. I had upgraded to a bio-pass from the standard wristscan last year, despite the media's typical "the-cereal-your-kids-eat-could-be-killing-them" hype about possible damage to the implantee's occipital lobe. Renowned experts in the field of biowear had processed exhaustive clinical trials, theoretical tests and even overcome a few minor mishaps with test subjects in the quest for public acceptance. The research had served to placate everyone but the conspiracy theorists. And my mother.

"Mom, I know you worry about me, but it really is better that I have a bio-pass. I even downloaded a tracking app the other day. Doesn’t it make you feel more secure to know that in the event of an emergency, authorities will know the exact GPS location of my skull?"

"Really? That's supposed to make me feel better? I've heard the stories about problems with that program picking up residual locations instead of sending out a locator signal like it should. Not very reliable."

My attempt to placate her with reason had apparently failed. Maybe mentioning my skull wasn't the best choice of words.

She sighed loudly. "Well, at least you're still calling your poor old mom once in a while. I haven't even HEARD from Owen in weeks."

"You're so dramatic," I was relieved the attention was off me. "I bet if you actually checked your email once in a while, you'd have a shit-load of notes from him, waiting for your reply."

"Nice Molly. A "shit-load"? Excellent vocabulary you have there." But I could tell she was holding back laughter.

Her tone made me reflect on how tolerant and sweet my mother is. I thought about telling her about my headaches, about seeing things, even about Teague, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew she would worry. She was always worrying.

"Well, ma, I gotta go. I have an appointment in a few." It was somewhat true; I had a doctor's appointment at 1 pm.

"Sure Moll, I know how busy you always are." I could hear the disappointment in her voice as the conversation was cut short. "Don’t forget how much I love you honey."

"I won't. I love you too."

I hung up my cell and sat, letting my mind wander for a minute. Letting it go comfortably numb and blank.

_______________

For the second time, the doctor couldn't find anything wrong with me. Dr. Mitchell was a small town physician with an office that could have just as easily housed law clerks or accountants. The only real discernible difference was a medical scale and blood pressure machine. His expertise extended to looking in my ear canals and listening to my heart, and after a "thorough" exam, he decided I should probably see an expert.

"Well Miss Quinn, you don't seem to have any illness that I can treat. You have a strong heart and lungs, you don't have any prescriptions that could cause side effects, no history of medical problems. Your headaches might be a stress related issue and certainly, everyone's bodies deal differently with varied levels of pain. I believe that your mind could be triggering a migraine with aura, which would cause you to see these 'things' that aren't really there. I'm going to send you to a neurologist to get a more detailed overview. They will have more advanced equipment to probe this issue further." he advised as he scribbled out a prescription for 800 mg Ibuprofen.

So helpful. Because I can't just take four pills from my bottle at home, I thought to myself sarcastically.

He uploaded his findings - or lack thereof - to the medical file on my bio-pass along with appointment information for the Traverse City Hospital. Without an emergency order, their specialty clinic didn't have an opening for a week, and Dr. Mitchell evidently didn't think my "headache episodes," as he called them, were much to worry about.

______________________

When I walked in, the condo was spotless. I mean CLEAN. I don't know if it had looked this nice since we had moved in at the beginning of the summer. And Claire isn't one of those crazy people who cleans for the fun of it. Something was up.

"Clairy! You home?"

She came bounding into the living room wearing a TINY, light blue, eyelet sundress. She always made me feel under-dressed in my typical tank top and jeans uniform.

"Hey! Mitch should be here any minute, help me look like we're just hanging out."

I couldn't help but laugh at her. The place was so clean and her "beachy" hair must have taken her at least an hour of wrapping small pieces around a big curling iron, there was no way Mitch would believe he was just coming over to hang out and lay around on the couch. I obliged by propping myself in the corner of the love seat with my feet on the coffee table.

"So, how'd it go girly?" I could tell she was preoccupied with her date's arrival, but she tried hard to focus for a second.

"Oh, fine. Same. He’s gonna send me to some clinic in Traverse for a second opinion."

"Well, that's good, right?" I wasn't sure if she had actually listened to what I said. "Mitch and I are probably gonna go down to the beach. Why don't you call that Trevor guy and see if he wants to hang out?"

"Claire! I couldn't STAND that guy! Didn’t you even notice?"

"Picky picky... and you didn't like that hot Teague guy either. What was up with that, by the way? He tried so hard to be nice when you fainted last night."

Oh my god. I was getting so frustrated with Claire lately. I felt like she was in her own little world half the time.

"Listen, I really want to talk to you about what happened last night. Like REALLY talk to you about it. But if Mitch is going to show up any minute, I don't want to get into it. I want your full attention."

"Moll... You’re so dramatic! It's ok you passed out... nobody will hold it against you. They might think you're a lush, but drunk people do stupid stuff sometimes. No biggie."

"I wasn't drunk!" I was getting pissed now. "Is that what people are saying? You know I didn't drink that much!"

Why did I CARE what people were saying? I was getting so off track from the real issue...

"Well, you did stumble and fall as soon as you got there, and passed out a little while later, and then threw a totally hissy fit in front of everyone... if you weren't drunk, what the hell happened?"

"Oh my god. That’s my point! I want to tell you about it but you're more concerned about your date! You should have SOME concern for me after everything that's happened lately!" the pitch of my voice had risen an octave. "You’re supposed to be my best friend!"

I had had enough. I don't know why my emotions were flaring so much, but I just couldn't take her flippant attitude. I felt the heat of embarrassment and regret flush my face - the memory of all those people crowded around last night, the look on Teague's face... then the worry that something was really wrong with me, physically - or even mentally - hit me. I tried to catch my breath, but I couldn't help myself. I threw the TV remote on the floor and ran out the door, down the stairs and into the parking lot where I almost ran into Mitch as he exited his El Camino.

"Whoa! Another rough day?"

I could tell he was trying to make a light hearted joke but I wasn't in the mood.

"Funny," I said sarcastically.

"Sorry, just kidding." He carefully moved around me and began to climb the stairs to our condo.

I mentally slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand. Stupid! I’m just ruining more relationships, I thought to myself. I mumbled an apology under my breath and exhaled as I watched him disappear into the door at the top of the stairs. As I turned to walk to the beach, I stopped, startled. There HE was in front of me. Teague had just gotten out of the passenger side and was watching me warily with a wry expression on his face.

"Hey Molly. Hope you're feeling better." He gave me a forced half smile and started to walk away.

"Wait, Teague, wait!" I felt so stupid and desperate.

He looked back at me, a mixture of surprise and apathy in his features, and waited.

"I want to apologize to you. I'm so sorry about last night..."

"No, no. Don't worry about it," he broke in, "Totally fine. I’m just gonna go grab some rays on the beach until Mitch is ready to go. Nice to see you though."

He was obviously trying to get rid of me. Obviously scared away by my psycho behavior. I thought wildly about what to do next. Be calm, act casual, SANE. No. Tell him how bad you feel! Apologize and ask him for understanding. Beg. But, don't seem too desperate...

With my thoughts swirling around like an indecisive tornado, all I could manage was, "You too." And he disappeared over the sandy hill next to our complex.

How I plan to post... slash expectations

This is my first (true) foray into writing a full length novel. I suppose if I had to classify it, it would be a young adult, contemporary, sci fi, fantasy with a little bit of chick lit romance (but not too much. Ew.)

My plan is to post a new chapter any time there is interest... so you have to let me know if you finished the most recent chapter, AND if you want to read more! (all 8 fingers crossed). Who knows if this will actually work...

Of course, since this blog was just created this morning, I have zero followers and no one has looked at it. I'm hoping that there may be a few curious people out there, and if so, let me know you're interested. Furthermore, if you would like to give me any feedback (hopefully constructive and not just outright mean, although I welcome any opinions offered) I would love to hear what you have to say.

Finally, I plan to post "in order" as if you're reading it from top to bottom (like a book would read) which means that "older" posts are actually newer ones. Or said more consisely, the first chapter will come first, the second chapter will come second and so forth (the second chapter will not be above the first one on blogger.) If that's not clear, I apologize! Hopefully it's easier to read that way.

Awesome, so here we go! Welcome to TUNING QUINN. :)

Chapter 1: My First Ghost

The headaches started the day after my 21st birthday. We had been partying at my favorite brewery and admittedly, I did drink a bit much. We all had a shot or two to honor my birthday and then maybe a shot or two more to celebrate seeing each other after the weeks we'd been apart, and then, of course, a good amount of hand crafted micro brew. Especially me because I’m a mug club member and get my beers for free on my b-day. Some of my friends had never been to Arcadia before and I felt like I owed them a good time, even though it WAS a Wednesday. On top of that, it really is my second favorite place in the world. I’m not sure what my first favorite is, I don't think I’ve been there yet.

I always loved the way I felt when I walked through the brewery. It towered over its patrons like a huge barn, rafters exposed, long benches at family style tables that automatically instilled camaraderie with anyone sitting nearby, and the friendly vibe continued all the way out onto a log cabin style covered deck overlooking Lake Arcadia. The weather had remained in the low 80s for the past few weeks so we decided to take advantage before the unpredictable fall set in.

My friends had hung a large vinyl banner from the rafters that read, "Molly is Old, but We Love Her Anyway." We were sitting at tables all shoved together and taking up about 75% of the deck area before Kirsten and Joey showed up. They were all hyped because they had just downloaded new apps for their biopasses. I had always felt like I should get more creative with mine, but I really didn't care enough to bother. I wanted to use mine for what it was intended, and that's about it. ID, credit, medical records, university security. I felt annoyed that with most new app downloads came an invasion of privacy. Advertising agencies, including student organizations, and many other factions could access my information: all of my Amazon buying info, favorite restaurant visits, monthly girly cycle and typical driving patterns among many other invasions into my life.

I listened to them drone on and on about how happy they were to be able to calculate and view exact restaurant tips in their occipital lobes by simply looking at the total bill. We all toasted again and had a big argument about whether buying or renting a house right out of college was smarter. I was making headway on my stance that we should all stay as mobile as possible for as long as possible, when Lance popped a balloon behind me and I nearly fell off the bench. What can I say? I'm easily startled. At least Lance and Joey thought I was hilarious, and I probably was, considering how much I'd had to drink.

I gave him a stern scolding which caused me to fall into my own fit of uncontrollable giggles. "You're NAUGHTY," I told him again. "Don't mess with me, or I'll sick Claire on you!"

A blurred bit later, Claire and I found some uber hottie boys sitting at the bar, and she, as usual convinced them to come home with us to watch Princess Bride. I will never understand why that ancient movie works, but it always does.

So I woke up hung over, hating life. I had to really think hard to remember if I had said or done anything really incriminating or embarrassing the night before, and even checked with Claire to make sure I hadn't pissed her or anyone else off. I flopped on her bed and moaned my lament for healthy, non-alcohol affected brain cells and she rubbed my temples for me in a sign of solidarity. I was so glad I had kicked my boy for the night, Travis, out after the movie.

"Moll Doll, you seem more than just hung over today," she observed. I couldn't argue with her. I was feeling way drained. My head was splitting and it was making me nauseous, so I let her dish about Jarrod, who had left recently, apparently.

"Moll, oh em gee, he had great abs, but I couldn't stand his mustache. Not so much the look of it, but the scratchy feel. Ick." She rubbed my temples a little more until I decided to go back to bed.

____________________________

When I woke, I felt like I had been sleeping for days, but my headache hadn't gone away. If anything, it might have been worse. I got up, groggy, disoriented and weak. I found Claire curled up on the couch half asleep, but when she saw me her eyes popped wide and she tensed.

"Oh my god, Moll! I was a few minutes away from calling a doctor! You’ve been dead to the world since Thursday afternoon!"

"Why, how long have I been out?" I asked innocently.

She grimaced and paused, "Its Saturday hon... I probably shouldn't have waited so long, but I didn't want to overreact..."

"Holy shit!" Ow, that hurt my head. "holy shit..." I whispered this time. "Clairy, I’m in crazy pain. Maybe that doctor is in order."

Like a concerned mother she bundled me up despite the warm day, plopped me in her car and took me to the small town physician on the other side of Lake Arcadia. He poked and prodded, but after a thorough exam, the doctor couldn't find anything wrong.

Apparently, I was fine. I was healthy. I had no excuse for my headache. But it still wasn't going away.

By the next morning I’m pretty sure I had my first full blown migraine.

And that morning I saw him for the first time.
_______________________________________

He walked right through our living room. At first I thought someone had broken in. and then, as I watched him move in his choppy, flashing, 1920's cinema type way, I became sure he was a ghost. I sat very very still moving only my eyes, pulling the blanket on my lap slowly higher to cover myself as the ghost paced the room a few times with no real destination. I could hear him muttering something under his breath in a distracted murmur, "No, no... Maybe the other one... I could swear... I thought it would work... the best option... enough time. Enough if..."

As he became clearer and more lifelike to me, I started to really freak out. Fighting against what felt like living rigor mortis, I was finally able to completely cover myself with the blanket. Then, like a kid beneath a bed sheet on Halloween, I abruptly jumped up and, knocking over the end table and all the digital frames on it, dashed for the safety of the nearest bedroom. I tried to silence my panting and wildly beating heart as I peered through the crack of Claire's bedroom door, but he didn't seem to see me. He was going about his own business, looking both ways before crossing an invisible street, waving to an unseen neighbor, shuffling through a stack of papers. I began to realize I was watching a montage of his insignificant life events and that he wasn't here at all.

What the hell? My headache hit me again like a ton of bricks falling from the Sears Tower. Was I hallucinating? Did someone drug me on my birthday and was I suffering after effects of date rape averted? Holy shit. I was losing it.

Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he pixelated right before my eyes and was gone. Slowly my terror began turning into anger... who had set me up? I didn't really think that Claire could pull if off, even if she did have money for a holo-caster. Plus that, I know everyone she knows, and that guy in the hologram was a total stranger. It must have been someone who came up north from Ann Arbor for my birthday! Probably Craig. Or Joey! Joey is TOTALLY into new technologies, and I could absolutely see him thinking this was a great use of his new gadget.

I slowly moved, still cautious and trying to calm my breathing, from Claire's dark bedroom. I made a couple tiptoeing once-overs before I dropped to my hands and knees to check under the couch and chairs. No receiver! Where had he hidden it? I jumped up and threw open the closet door for a quick glance before circling the island between the living room and kitchen to open all the cupboard doors for an inspection. Nothing. A receiver for even the most expensive personal use holo-caster is the size of a shoe box and only has a range about the circumference of an above ground swimming pool, or a little smaller than my condo, I thought to myself. I sat down and really thought about it, and as I wracked my brain, I realized that this was the first time I’d been able to concentrate in four days! My headache was gone! Not even a lingering trace...

Before HE had appeared, I had been slumped on the couch, partially blanket covered and nearly comatose, trying to survive my migraine. And now it was totally gone. Weird. Maybe the shock had knocked the tumor I had decided I must be growing loose from my brain stem.

_______________________

When Claire got home, I was ready for the beach. Bikini on, flip flops and towels by the door, beers and turkey sandwiches in a cheap-o Styrofoam cooler. I was ITCHING to get out of the condo, and normally I wouldn't be so co-dependent, but it had been a strange day.

"Come on, come on, come on Clairy! Today is beautiful and we only have a few more days here! We totally have to take advantage of it!"

She broke into a relieved grin, "God Moll Doll, I’m so glad you're back to your old self! Let’s hit it!"

I grabbed the cooler and my flops, and we jogged the three flights of stairs down to the parking lot. I still couldn't believe that we got such a great deal from Claire's older brother to sublet his condo for the summer. Most college students don't get that kind of opportunity. The cluster of three story, grey-washed, board and batten buildings sat directly on, or yards from the beach. We didn't have a Lake Michigan view, but we could see Lake Arcadia over the other side of the peninsula, through the tress. Beautiful. The hot pavement jolted me back to the present and I threw the rubber sandals out in front of me to shuffle into them. As we rounded the corner of the large grey building, the wind off Lake Michigan hit me in the face.

Claire turned toward me and tried to speak despite gulping down a gust of air, "Moll," she squinched her face into the wind, "Moll, are you feeling better? What do you think was up with that headache? I've never seen you like that before..."

"I’m good. SUDDENLY good... headache-wise." I judged her expression to see if it seemed genuine. "Claire, I gotta ask you something..."

We had reached a good spot that was near the water, but still shaded a little from the wind by an outcropping of beach grass, and I threw my towel down. Claire tilted her head inquisitively, "Anything Moll Doll, what's up?"

I wasn't really sure how to ask her without sounding accusatory. And really, I hadn't brought her out here to question her; I truly was excited to be out in the sun, feeling healthy and refreshed. I could hardly feel animosity about the prank earlier. After all, it HAD rid me of my "toomuh." I giggled allowed at my own dumb joke and she squinted again, concerned. "Moll??"

"Sorry, sorry. WEIRD day. So, I was wondering if you know anything about a little joke that someone played on me earlier." There. Direct, unaccusatory, safe question.

"Uh, no... why? What happened?" She seemed authentically engrossed. "Tell me!"

"Well... earlier, there was a DUDE in our CONDO," I began my story. Purposely playing up the drama because I know she loves it.

"NO WAY! Who? What happened?"

I told her all about the event, down to his orange t-shirt and matching visor. "And then, poof! He disappeared! Ok, well, not really 'poof,' more like he faded, but he was gone all of a sudden, like he was never there..."

She had been sitting wide eyed, patient. Then she blinked and said, "Was he hot at least??" and we both broke into a much welcome fit of giggles.

"Yeah, now that I think about it, he really was!" I looked at her a little harder and realized that she thought I had been kidding. I quickly sobered up, "Claire, listen. There really was a... a holo in our condo earlier, and I looked EVERYWHERE, all I found was the wireless router, with some weird attachments, but I couldn't find the receiver anywhere, and if you don't know anything about it, that kinda freaks me out..." I knitted my eyebrows for emphasis.

"Molly, first of all, I DON'T know anything about it..." Her eyes grew wide again, "And secondly, remember that burglary last summer where the perps used a 'caster to convince the landlord he needed to unlock the apartment door?"

I nodded solemnly and she finished her thought, "Well, um, Mol, those weird attachments? My brother installed a Holoblocker for security purposes while he was gone..."

As her words sunk in, a cloud rudely drifted in front of the sun. I pulled my towel around my shoulders and tried to stifle a shiver, "Then... who... or WHAT, was in our place today??"

______________________

Probably about an hour had passed, but we were still laying there in silence. I had cracked a beer but it was getting warm and leaving a growing wet spot in the sand from condensation. Further up the beach I could see children playing with a Frisbee and a couple splashing each other in the shallow water of the nearest sandbar. The shifting sand had covered the bottom few steps to the park above the beach this summer, and a small brown rabbit sat half hidden in the dune grass eating flowers. I thought about taking the long way up those stairs and around to the road to get home, instead of climbing back over the dune to the condo. Really, I just wanted to prolong our return. Right now the condo represented a sinister arcanum to deal with.

Claire finally spoke, "Are you really worried, Mol? You know it wasn't an actual PERSON in our condo, right? You’re sure?"

"Yeah, totally sure. I guess I should just get over it, but if it wasn't a holo and it OBVIOUSLY wasn't a person, what could it be? And why?"

Just then something thumped right behind me throwing sand in the air, and into my wilting beer can. I whirled, startled to see a tanned guy, probably a couple years older than us jogging over to retrieve his football.

"Hey girls! Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to disturb your sun worship!" He smirked at each of us mischievously.

Claire and I exchanged knowing glances. I winked at her and turned to fix my gaze back on the bronzed stranger who had just arrived. The first thing that I noticed was how skinny his bare chest seemed compared to his head, topped with a mop of longish sun bleached hair haphazardly pulled back in a knot at the back of his neck. His linen pants hung loosely around his waist so his davids were fully visible. Complete with a scraggly goatee, his slightly crooked teeth grinned at us, waiting for a response. TOTALLY Claire's type, vintage hippy, TRENDY, someone who was clearly ABOVE braces.

"Hi." I said, and waited. That was our game, Claire's and mine. He cocked his head, licked his lips and smirked another crooked smirk, defying my brevity. I liked this guy.

Claire gave in. "What's your name?" More of the game: never give your name out first. Or at all, depending on the circumstances.

"Mitch. Yours?"

"That's Molly." I gave her a disapproving look. She was obviously already into this guy. She rolled her eyes at me, "I'm Claire."

"Well nice to meet you Claire, Molly." He nodded at each of us, samurai-like. "Do you guys live here, or are you visiting? I’m just getting my lay of the land."

"Why? You’re not from around here?" Claire's curiosity was getting the better of her, as usual. "We can show you around..."

"We've got plans in a few." I interjected, shooting her another warning look.

Yeah, I know, I’m too cautious. But it's not just that. I also don't ever like to seem too eager. Or desperate. I’m not the most confident person in the world, but I at least like to project it. Boys like that. And Claire was always getting her self into sticky situations that I would eventually and inevitably have to bail her out of. Hence, the game. Did I mention that our game is really more MY game? She always said I was a buzz kill, but I didn't like to make the chase too easy.

He looked a little deflated. "Well, that's cool. I’d love to take you up on that tour sometime though, if you don't mind." He turned to walk away but hesitated and looked back over his shoulder, "My boys and I will be out on the lake later if you're interested... marina around 9?"

He didn't even check to see if we accepted, his easy, cool confidence carrying him up over the dune in long strides. It’s a good thing he didn't look back because I would've blown our cover. We couldn't conceal the our excitement. One last chance to meet some boys before the summer ended!

Chapter 2: Take one of these and call me in the morning.

Claire and I hurriedly finished the remaining six pack and meandered home along the back road on the peninsula. The excitement about tonight’s gathering was admittedly overshadowing my fear about facing the confines of our once-harmless condo. We ate our sandwiches as we walked because I was starting to get a hunger headache after a long afternoon in the sun with nothing but beer in my stomach. When we got home I made Claire go in first and she stuck out her tongue to prove she wasn’t scared.

“Moll Doll, it’s fine, there’s for sure some sort of reasonable explanation.” She made a show of checking under couch cushions and the rug on the floor in front of the sink. “We’re safe, k?”

“I know, I know.” I was starting to feel pretty foolish. Maybe it had all been a dream... No, that was a dumb thought. But maybe I could have been hallucinating from the pressure of the toomuh on my brain or just the shear magnitude of my migraine.

But the thought of the migraine made it suddenly apparent my hunger headache was getting worse. Like, way worse.

It was already 6:00 but I was feeling pretty groggy from the increasing pain in my temples, so I told Claire I needed to take a quick power nap before getting ready to go out. I was never really willing to turn down a good party, even if I wasn’t feeling up to snuff, but this pain was about to convince me otherwise. I recognized the potential disappointment couched behind her concerned words of encouragement, and I promised her I would do my best to feel better and come out with her. I asked her to wake me up in an hour and shuffled into my room to crawl under the covers. I tossed and turned, and undoubtedly whimpered a little because a few minutes later, Claire was there with some Ibuprofen and a glass of water.

Finally, I could feel myself drifting off, although my head still didn’t feel any better. But something else was keeping me from fully falling asleep. Something there in the periphery. A noise? Breathing. I could hear breathing. Getting steadily louder. Fast, labored breaths coming from the direction of the overstuffed chair in the corner of my bedroom. My eyes popped open. Oh my god, there’s someone there, in the dark corner... I pulled the edge of my sheet toward my ear... it was there, waiting for me... I knew if I could just get my ear covered, I would be safe... what could it want from me..? I couldn’t quit staring into that corner... I could just barely make out a shape, hunched over, head hanging toward his knees, hands clasped... is this really happening?? And I couldn’t help it, I stared hyperventilating, and then a scream escaped. I clapped my hand over my mouth, nearly suffocating myself, but he didn’t move. Instead, he began sobbing, low moans of anguish... his dark hair hanging to frame his forehead and tops of his cheekbones, his long dark lashes mashed together in a tormented grimace... unbearable. And terrifying...!

Claire burst into the room, fumbled for the light switch and after flooding the room in the painful blaze from my halogen lamp, skidded to the floor next to my bed. “Holy crap Molly! Are you ok?? I almost peed my pants when I heard you scream! What happened?”

“Claire, listen. SLOWLY, turn and look at the chair in the corner...” But as I was saying the words, he was already disappearing, the boy from before. His hunched body gradually pixelating into nothingness. She rapidly swiveled, completely disobeying my wishes, just in time to see the last remaining outline of his body before it faded.

“See?? See Claire? It was him! That was him! From earlier! The holo, or whatever he is! I’m so glad you saw him before he disappeared!”

She looked at me in shock. “Hon, there’s nothing there. I think your head’s playing tricks on you... are you sure the doctor said you checked out ok?”

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t see him? He was RIGHT THERE. Sitting in the chair! I know he had almost faded away by the time you turned, but you MUST have seen him!”

She was shaking her head defiantly, unwilling to listen to me. “I’ve been worried about you for a while now, but this is just crazy. If he was a holo, I would have seen him and not only that, we both know a holocaster won’t work here while the blocker is on. Moll, I’m gonna take you back to the doc in the morning, k? This is just getting too creepy. Listen, I think you need to unwind and get out of your own head.”

I took a deep breath and thought about what she was saying. Tried to clear my mind. I wasn’t COMPLETELY sure I could remember the whole situation clearly. But one thing was for sure, my headache was gone. So I said it out loud, just to be sure, “My headache is gone.”

She looked at me sheepishly, “Hey, maybe all you need is a good party with some boys and booze.”

“Sure!” I scoffed, incredulously, “Take the crazy one to a shin-dig to loosen her up! Just what the doctor ordered!” I couldn’t believe her nerve, but on the other hand, she did have a point. The last thing I wanted to do now was stay in this haunted condo worrying about the ghost of Jared Leto’s twin reappearing.

_________________


Because I’m typically such a worry wart, and because I was so on edge after the crazy events of the day, I downloaded a tracking app on my biopass. I knew that was complete overkill, especially in a small town like Arcadia, Michigan. I felt like even more of a paranoid freak about allowing myself to fall victim to the big brother mentality of a security system for my BODY. We were only going around the lake to the marina. It wasn’t like we couldn’t scream and have the entire town hear us.

Claire had dolled me up of course, because I never really felt that motivated to put on makeup or do my hair. I’m pretty proud of how long and dark my eyelashes are on their own, and my hair is, well, just long, straight and dark. Too thick and coarse to do much with it other than a ponytail. But Claire was on a mission that night, wrapping my hair into millions of huge body wave rollers, adding layer after layer of mascara and eyeliner until I looked like Cleopatra. I immediately rubbed off the bright red lipstick as soon as she turned her back. I could tell it annoyed her, but there was NO way I was gonna meet boys without my trusty lip gloss. My only tried and true beauty accessory.

Of course Claire had transformed herself into a rockabilly pin-up for the night. Red lips blazing, her belted cardigan showed off her petite curves all too well. I hadn’t seen her this dolled up all summer, not even when we went to Traverse for the night. She must really be into this guy. I couldn’t help but giggle imagining the pair they would make: him in something like a tie dyed t-shirt, headband and hemp necklace, her bleach blond pin curls taking a beating from the wind off the lake. And oh, I could see it now, she would stumble a bit on the rocking boat, because of her red patent platform stilettos (who wears something like that on a boat?) and she would fall, oh so clumsily into his strong granola arms. A match made in heaven. At least he had mentioned his “boys,” plural, so I would hopefully have my pick.

After some debate we decided to ride our bikes around to the marina because we were running pretty late after all the primping. We must’ve looked hilarious riding up all purty on our mountain bikes. At least I was wearing a tank and jeans. Claire almost bit it when we rolled down the grassy hill to the bike rack next to the docks. She had her heavy shoes in one hand and was trying to steer with the other while dismounting barefoot. I agilely threw a too-long leg over my back tire and propped my bike just in time to grab her arm before she fell.

“You practicing your damsel in distress routine?” I asked, chidingly.

She stuck out her tongue and righted herself to put on her shoes. I started to hear chuckles erupt from the lake nearby. We turned to see Mitch and a stocky meathead type covering their mouths and pretending to look elsewhere. Oh no, I thought, that’s my date?? I scolded myself for mentally using the word “date” for the situation, and looked him over. He was about the same height as Mitch - 5’9” or so - and muscular with a beer gut. His t-shirt boasted a big thumbs up surrounded by the words, “Helloooo Ladies!” How lame. Not such a bad looking guy though. I even thought maybe he looked a little familiar but couldn’t quite place him.

“Where are your ‘boys?’“ I shouted over to Mitch. “I thought you had an entourage coming tonight!”

“I’m all you need, baby!” Meathead yelled back, obviously proud of himself.

Yikes, I thought, giving Claire a “you owe me BIG” look. She winked in response and began to wobble over the uneven ground toward the pontoon. I grabbed her arm again and dragged her along, feeling a little chagrined.

“Hi, I’m Trevor,” Meathead announced and stuck out his fat fingered hand like a businessman. “Are your people originally from this area?” I kid you not. That was his first question to me.

“Uh, my? My people?” I could feel myself losing my cool.

“Yeah, Native Americans. You’re Indian, right? You gotta be with that hair.”

Wow, this guy was a real tool. Right down to the socks with sandals. Why in the hell was Mitch hanging out with him?

As if reading my thoughts, Mitch interjected, “Molly, Claire, meet my cousin Trevor. Not the most eloquent guy, but straight forward. A REAL straight shooter.” I detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice and I raised one eyebrow in appreciation.

Claire just giggled and pulled her arm away from me to grab onto Mitch’s bicep. “Absolutely, Mitch! I can totally tell he’s that kinda guy!”

In my brain, I gagged. Mitch looked a little apologetic and added, “There should be a couple more dudes showing up in a few. No worries.” He looked happy he had given me hope.

I wouldn’t normally feel so attacked by a stranger. I’m not the most PC person myself. But something about Trevor’s question really hit home. I guess, yeah, by now I’ve started associating myself as a Native American. It’s weird to live with the most red-headed Irish people in the world and stand out in family pictures like you’re a character in that old movie Avatar, but that’s my life. At least my sister Shannon has dark hair like me, but our skin is two completely different shades. And normally, I’m totally fine to talk about my heritage, or lack of it, and my adoption, but he had struck a very sour note with me. It was probably just him though, not so much the rude question. I happen to ask rude questions way too often.

“I’m Irish.” I half-lied to Trevor.

After almost an hour of Trevor droning on and on about the (apparently endlessly amusing) insurance fraud he tried to commit last summer, and ultimately failed - poor him - and the reasons why his drunk mother was hilarious, I couldn’t take his drivel anymore. Because no one else had shown up yet, we were floating about 50 yards out from the shore, checking the docks occasionally for new comers. No luck so far.

Mitch and Claire were getting along famously as far as I could tell. She was lounging at the back of the boat, smoking a cigarette with her capri’d legs thrown over him, centerfold style.

“Um, Mitch, I really have to pee...” I stated unconvincingly.

I wasn’t even surprised anymore when Meathead replied, “You could just lean over the edge of the railing. We won’t look,” and smiled his proud smile.

“No problem,” Mitch replied to me, knowingly. He got up to start the motor and Claire visibly pouted.

Thank god for a break from Trevor, I thought, just as Mitch answered his telechip.

I could tell from Mitch’s end of the conversation we had been abandoned. He asked a few times when they would be here and after a minute of frustration, changed his tactics to where they were, what they were doing and for how long. I felt sad for some reason, like I had missed something important, although I had no idea why.

“Oh! Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll be there soon,” Mitch blinked hard, unconsciously signaling to us he had disconnected.

“Ok, so we’re gonna head to Frank’s for a bonfire. Almost everyone is already there. He said he’s sorry he ditched us, but they had some friends come into town at the last minute who wanted to party at The Farm.”

_________________


The Farm, I soon learned, was an ancient, peeling farmhouse and a few dilapidated barns outside of town. It was probably only a few acres with no real farm land to speak of.

“But,” Mitch had told me on the drive over in his El Camino - with Trevor in the back! - “Frank’s ‘rents left him and his older brother the house when they retired to Arizona.” Now it was used mainly as a bachelor pad, by the looks of it. As we pulled up the long driveway, I could make out the glow from a large fire behind the second barn.

Claire was all giddy at the prospect of spending more time in a rural setting and Mitch was happy to oblige. I found her perspective on pastoral America hilarious: while on one hand she was terrified someone was going to kill her and wear her skin, she was completely charmed by “innocent farm boys,” and she always pointed out that events like a bonfire were illegal within Grosse Pointe city limits without a permit.

“Molly! Look at how BIG that fire is!”

I had seen plenty of roaring bonfires during my childhood in Plummer, Minnesota, but I figured I could humor her. “Wow, you’re right, let’s get over there!”

The next thing I knew, Claire was clinging to Mitch, piggy back, and Meathead was reaching for my hand. Feeling a little rude, but very sure I didn’t want anyone thinking I had arrived WITH Trevor, I sped up in front of our little group. As I got closer I realized there were actually a decent number of people here. Probably 25 or so milled around the fire, laughing loudly at a stumbling girl who had just spilled her beer, while a couple other chicas danced perilously on top of a tall stump.

In my hurry to reach the group, I caught my foot on something and - TIMBER! - I reached out a long arm to grab a small branch on my way down. It promptly snapped and I landed in a heap on the ground, much to Trevor’s amusement. I could hear him coming up behind me in the shadows laughing like a circus clown. I had just turned to tell him off when a baritone voice said my name.

The voice’s bonfire-ringed silhouette towered over me. “Molly?” he asked again, more sheepishly.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.” I felt so overwhelmed by embarrassment, “Do I know you?”

He plopped to the ground in front of me and leaned forward as if to tell a secret. “Now you don’t look weird sitting on the ground alone,” he feigned a covert tone, the smile apparent in his loud whisper.

He handed me a plastic cup of beer and continued, “Mitch told me he was bringing you, I assumed you weren’t the one riding on his back.”

“Yup, how deductive.” Now I leaned toward him, to mock his earlier jest, and loudly whispered, “Thank you SO MUCH for saving me from--” just as Trevor reached us.

“Nice one twinkle toes,” Trevor butted in. “Do I have to be by your side at all times? I’m not a very good date if I let you go falling on your pretty face, am I?”

The silhouette looked up at Trevor and back to me, “Your date?” He seemed amused. “Sorry, should I leave you two love-birds alone?”

My extreme embarrassment returned, “No, I... um...”

The silhouette caught my wrist to pull me toward him and whispered softly in my ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of this - if you want me to.”

I nodded, woozily trying hard to think of something other than his hot breath on my earlobe. He took my vague cue, tilted his head back again and suddenly became serious. “Trevor, she’s fine. I’m making sure of it.”

Shaken, Trevor tried to save face, “Well... sure man, you can have her. She was a snobby pain in the ass all night anyway.” He turned, mouth hanging slightly open and strode away.

Apparently the silhouette thought this was really amusing but stifled a full-out laugh. “Don’t worry about Trevor. He’s convinced he’s a ladies man, and he means well, but sometimes I wonder what the hell he’s thinking.”

He was trying so hard to be tolerant, I couldn’t help but feel inexplicably drawn to him... but at that moment we realized he was still holding my wrist and our controlled laughter erupted.

“Do you want that back?” he teased, and slowly let my hand slide through his fingers.

No... no I actually don’t... I thought as my hand pulsed with the energy his fingers had left there. Then I started to feel kinda pathetic. This guy was really drawing me in, and I didn’t even know his name!

“So, my savior, The Amazing Silhouette - that’s your super hero name,” I announced. “What’s your mild mannered alias?”

Oh my god, I thought, I’m so lame! I took a slow sip of beer to appear nonchalant.

But he burst out laughing again. “Well, when I’m not wearing a cape and fighting crime,” he put his fists on his hips and raised his chin to his right gallantly, “most people call me Teague.”

For some reason his silliness triggered my childish side and I couldn’t contain a large bark of a laugh - just as I was trying to swallow. The beer in my mouth launched itself at him, but he must’ve had cat-like reflexes because he was able to topple himself sideways in time to miss most of it.

“Wow! Are you always this dangerous to be around?” he joked as he righted himself.

Even though I had plenty of reason to feel embarrassed by now, I was feeling more and more comfortable. Teague, The Amazing Silhouette, had some sort of magnetism I hadn’t felt before. Like I was rushing down stream in a cold current, but easily able to keep my head above water and enjoy the frightening pull.

I thought for a split second about apologizing, but instead, against my better judgment, this came out of my mouth: “Why do you feel so familiar to me?”

Now I had done it. He was sure to be scared away by this weird, overly intense girl who he had just met. I expected him to laugh again, or politely excuse himself, but instead he simply said, “Yeah, it’s strange isn’t it?”

Whoa...

Now let me be clear: I think it’s super tiresome when girls describe butterflies in their stomach or how lightheaded they feel when they meet a handsome boy for the first time, but lame descriptions aside, there was something suspicious happening in my belly and my brain... and I hadn’t even SEEN him, so he didn’t have the handsome thing going for him - yet.

I cleared my throat, and tried to change the subject. “So how do you know Mitch and Frank and all these guys?”

The light danced on his shoulders as he thought about his answer, “Hmmm, well, I’ve known Trevor since he was born, and Mitch has been coming up every summer to stay with his aunt and uncle - Trevor’s parents - since he was a little kid. They both have their issues, but I always got along better with Mitch than Trevor though. No big surprise there, right?”

“I’ll say.” So Mitch was lying when he asked for a tour of the area… interesting, I thought. I let it go and mustered up the courage for another non-life commitment type question. “And Frank?”

“Well, Frank’s older brother Sam and I grew up together - went to the same elementary and everything. Sam has always been a really great friend, but especially since... uh...” He paused, clearly not ready to continue, so I waited.

“Man, I’m becoming a downer, so sorry.”

“Totally fine, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” I was dying for him to continue, but I didn’t want to intrude.

“No, no, it’s ok. Sam dragged me out tonight to get my mind off it. It’s just really hard to see your parent struggle through an illness, ya know? Well, you hopefully don’t know, but anyway...” He shrugged awkwardly before continuing. “...My mom is in the pretty late stages of cancer and she probably doesn’t have very long left... Most people in the community don’t really know about it... she’s so strong. She doesn’t want to be a burden or a spectacle...” he trailed off.

My heart broke a little for him and I had no idea what to say. “That’s terrible...” was all I could manage.

“Yeah, but she’s strong... Strongest person I know. She would hate it if she knew we were sitting here talking about her instead of having a good time.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, like HE was the one trying to be strong; his voice wavered a little despite his resolute words. “So now that you know all about me, what about you?”

“What ABOUT me?” I tried to be upbeat for him, despite his sad news. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” He laughed genuinely.

“Everything? Wow, if I told you everything, I’d bore you to death...”

“I doubt it. Try me.” He leaned forward again to prove his devoted interest.

“Ok, I’ll tell you all about my summer, and then it’s your turn again.” I began to tell him about my time in Arcadia, sharing a condo with Claire, trying to figure out what kind of job I wanted to get, where I wanted to live in the fall. I felt like everything I said was pitifully mundane, but he hung on every word. He showed no signs of interrupting me, so I finally shut up because I wasn’t used to talking about myself so much.

After a second of silence he said, in a disappointed tone, “That’s all I get?”

“For now.” I replied, “It’s your turn. That was the deal, remember?”

“That was the deal YOU made. I don’t want to spoil our night together talking about myself and my problems, and you don’t have to tell me everything at once. I’m kinda hoping we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

I knew I was blushing furiously and I prayed the firelight wasn’t bright enough to give away the redness of my skin. His words were so straight-forward and confident, I felt flattered and anxious and excited. I hadn’t ever met anyone like him before.

“Anyway, we’re being awfully anti-social hanging out here under the cherry trees instead of joining the party aren’t we?” He stood and reached out a hand, “I really want to introduce you to my friends.”

He pulled me to my feet and although I was disappointed our private meeting was over, I felt flattered he wanted his friends to meet me.

I straightened myself to my full six feet and tried to get a good look at this shadowed stranger who felt comfortable telling me about his heartache, and who hadn’t been scared away by my intensity. As he turned to escort me toward the roaring flames, I finally got a good look at his features, his beautiful, shockingly familiar face eye to eye with mine.

I choked on a violent gasp of realization, and it hit me like a baseball bat to the gut: all the memories of the intruder in my living room and of his defeated form sitting in my bedroom chair came rushing back. As his kind eyes searched mine with apologetic concern, I could feel the blood rapidly leave my face as the world around me went dark.