Dreamless (Starcrossed 2)

Somehow, the hem of her jeans had gotten caught in the chain and she had nearly ripped the whole leg off. Readjusting her stance to stop herself before she could tear her jeans any more, Helen slid on some pebbles underfoot and fell headlong into the muddy, dead-rodent-infested puddle, with her ancient bicycle still attached to her pant leg. The bike collapsed on top of her before she could stand, the frame getting twisted and bent as it tangled with Helen’s strong body.

“What the hell is going on?” Helen yelled aloud. She heard a tittering laugh and looked across the road to see a tall, thin woman grinning at her.

Right away, Helen knew there was something not quite right about the woman. She had high, arching cheekbones and wave after wave of long, white-blonde hair that reached the back of her knees. At first Helen thought she was a movie star or something, because with her features and all that hair she should have been beautiful. But the sneer on her lips and the hollow, serpentine look in her eyes made her downright ugly. No matter how beautiful her body was supposed to be, her polluted spirit made her hideous to look at.

“What are you?” Helen shouted. Goose bumps puckered her skin, more in reaction to the uncanny encounter than to the cold.

The ghoulish woman shook her head at Helen, waggling it forward left to right, like a cobra blankly zeroing in on a hapless mouse. Then she broke eye contact and skipped off. Helen stared after her in shock, thinking to herself, Who the hell skips?

Very carefully, in case there also happened to be a bear trap she was about to step in or something, Helen pulled herself up from the nasty-ass puddle and sat down next to her trashed bike. She knew that what she had just seen was no costume, and that her little run-in with Murphy’s Law was not a coincidence. Something strange had just happened, but she had no idea what.

Picking up her demolished bike and putting it over her shoulder, Helen walked the rest of the way to school. She dumped her ex-bike somewhere in the vicinity of the rack and wandered into homeroom exactly as disgusting and torn up as the puddle had left her.

There were a bunch of people wearing costumes, and more than one wearing ripped clothes and fake-dirt makeup. Even so, it was obvious that Helen was soaking wet, shivering, and covered in real mud. Looks of shock followed her as she walked across the classroom. Matt and Claire sat up straighter in alarm. She mouthed the words “I’m okay,” and Matt sat back in his seat, less alarmed but still scowling, wondering what had happened.

“Miss Hamilton? Am I to assume that the malodorous emanation I detect is an integral part of your Halloween costume?” Hergie asked with his usual nonchalance. “Something of the zombie persuasion, I expect?”

“I’m thinking of calling it ‘eau de dead fart,’” she replied, just as cool as he was. Usually Helen was much more respectful, but she felt like pushing Hergie a bit.

“Please visit the powder room and remove it. Although I commend your holiday spirit, I cannot allow such a distraction. There are some students at this institution who wish to learn,” he chastised in his heroic way. Helen grinned at him. Hergie really was one of a kind. “I shall write you a hall pass. . . .”

“But, Mr. Hergesheimer, I don’t have a change of clothes. I’ll need help . . .”

“I would expect nothing else. One pass for you, and one for your cohort, Miss Aoki.” He tore off two precious slips of paper that pretty much gave Helen and Claire free rein over the hallways for the next two periods.

Claire looked over at Helen excitedly, trying not to scream out of her eyeballs, and the two best friends stood up from their desks and took their passes with humbly bent heads. Getting a hall pass from Hergie was like getting a knighthood. It didn’t make you any richer, but it gave you bragging rights for the rest of the year.

“Lennie, you stink,” Claire mumbled as they made their way to the door.

“You have no idea what just happened to me,” Helen whispered back, and went on to explain her entire run in with the ghoulish woman by the side of the road. Claire listened intently as she led them to the theater. “Wait, why are we here?” Helen asked when she saw their destination.

“You need something to wear,” Claire said with a shrug as she let them into the prop room. She went directly to a rack of diaphanous, glittery fairy costumes and began holding one after another up to Helen, comparing size. “Are you sure it wasn’t just some crazy tourist in a Halloween costume? This’ll fit you. It’s got wings, though.”

“I’m cool with wings. And there is no way that woman was human. She was, like, seven feet tall and she skipped,” Helen replied, easily shifting conversational gears. “Won’t we get in trouble?”

“I’m on the costume committee. Besides, we’ll give them back.” Claire gave Helen an impish grin as she took one for herself. “Now, locker room. You’re unholy stench is making my eyes water.”

Helen showered and washed her hair while Claire changed into a pilfered costume of her own and stood at one of the mirrors putting on sparkly makeup to go with it. Claire asked Helen to describe the ghoul very carefully, but she couldn’t add much beyond her original first impression.

“It was difficult to get a good look at her, Gig. I was busy doing the breaststroke in a puddle with a dead rodent floating next to me.” Helen toweled herself dry and wiggled into an iridescent wisp of a dress while trying not to poke her eyes out on the spiky wings.

“I’ll tell Matt and Ari about it in class today, see if they have any ideas. Now come out and let me see!”

“Which characters from Midsummer are we supposed to be?” Helen’s jaw dropped when she saw Claire’s costume. “Ooh, I love that! The spiderweb design is amazing!”

“I’m Cobweb, obviously, and you’re Moth. They’re good, right? My grandma did the sequin bits.”

“These wings are insane pr

etty.” Helen floated up into the air and pretended to be surprised that she was flying. “And they work, too!”

Claire grabbed Helen’s foot and tugged her back down to earth with a sulky face. “Jason made me promise never to fly with you again. And now that I know what I’m missing, it sucks even harder to watch you do it.”

“I’ll have a talk with him,” Helen offered. “Maybe if I show him how easy it is for me to carry a passenger, he’ll see it’s not so dangerous and change his mind.”

“I doubt it,” Claire said. She shook her head and scowled. “Not that it matters. I think today we’re technically broken up, but how would I know?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Helen asked, jabbing a fist onto her hip and frowning.