"I didn't think you'd be here. Don't you have that group thing for science?" Ophelia swirled around the room searching for her notebook.
"It got canceled." Amry pulled the pillow over her head.
"Oh. That's too bad. Why did it get canceled?'
"I canceled it,” her voice muffled.
"You? Why?" Ophelia sat down next to her friend.
"Because I wanted to. End of story. What were you doing out so early?"
"I went to see Ms. Dunworthy."
"Why? What's wrong?'
"Bad dreams." Ophelia floated to her own bed.
"About?" Amry rolled over.
"I'll tell, if you will." Ophelia narrowed her eyes.
"Tell what?" Amry snapped.
"Why you think Jeffrey left."
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
Amry glided up toward the ceiling and disappeared. In moments, she walked through the front door and plopped down on her bed. She held a letter in her hand.
"Where did you go? And what's that?" Ophelia stretched her neck to get a better look.
"My locker. This was waiting for me the morning after Jeffrey left.
Amry,
I don't think I could ever express how much you mean to me. If we had been lucky enough to know each other during our breather years, I know I would have wanted to spend every minute with you. But the light has come for me several times lately, and I have you to thank for that. Never being in love was my burden. It stopped me from moving on and reuniting with my family. I know you'll never leave if Ophelia is still searching for Haven. I get it, I really do. You're as good a friend as you are a love, but it's my time and I didn't want to give you added pressure. I know you would have refused, and this way is easier for both of us. I hope one day you can forgive me.
Eternally yours,
Jeffrey
Amry let the letter fall from her fingers and float to the floor.
"What the skilamalink? How did he get it in your locker if he was already gone?" Ophelia gritted her teeth.
"He asked his friend Oliver to put it there after the light came for him again." Amry pulled the comforter up to her neck and folded into a fetus pose. "I thought getting a scoundrel like Zachary Kowal at the Academy might take my mind off of it. I tried to push it down deep, keep up the smiles, but yesterday Oliver approached me after the last class. Told me how much Jeffrey really did love me, how it was so hard for him. If it was so damn hard, then why did he go?" Amry's voice was shaky.
"I wish I knew. I'll never understand boys." Ophelia bit her lower lip. "They do the strangest things.'
"Your turn." Amry sat up. "Spill. What's going on?"
Ophelia explained her recent dream about Haven, the name Alex, and Ms. Dunworthy's interpretation.
"Visions, huh. Do you think she's right?" Amry snapped the letter up from the floor and place it under her pillow.
"I don't know, but I'm going to try out her advice. It can't hurt. There's something else, though."
"What's that?"
"I got a feeling like Haven's running out of time." Ophelia glanced out the window. The clouds rolling in soaked up the last drop of sunlight, casting a dark silhouette in the courtyard. "I need to find out who this Alex is, and what he means to Haven.
3
Meet Haven
The house was peaceful, Alex’s mom and brother were sleeping. They were leaving early in the morning for a week in Orlando, Florida. Visiting family that had migrated to warmer climate, was a yearly trip he'd have to miss this time. It was mid-year finals at the Academy, so he would have to experience palm trees and sandy beaches second hand. Checking his phone for the time, it was later than he thought. He ambled into the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator for leftovers. Pizza, orange chicken, and a three-day old cheeseburger from Grille Kings—pizza it was. Throwing a slice of pie on a paper plate, and nuking it for sixty seconds, answered the gnawing pangs in his stomach. A glass of cola and he was off to bed.
A soothing shower called to him as he rounded the corner to the second floor. Not bothering to retrieve his pajamas, he swung directly into the bathroom. A thick, midnight blue robe, hung from hook behind the door. He had given his mom grief for buying him such a lame gift, but he used it way more often than he'd admit to her. Twisting the shower faucet on hot, he let steam build up in the room, warming his bones. Removing his shirt, he yanked on his binder, twisting it down past his hips until it dropped to the floor. His chest sawed a heavy breath as the air hit his bare skin. It felt good to be free of the day’s constraints. Turning to check his five o'clock shadow in the foggy mirror, he reached out and wiped away the condensation. Glancing down at the exposed fleshy plumps protruding from his chest, his stomach roiled. He was running out of patience, surgery needed to happen sooner rather than later.
Stepping under the hot rain, he tilted back his head and let the water wash away the memories that suffocated his mind. Learning to let go of the death of an innocent was harder than anything he'd ever done. It wasn't working.
Jolted by the picture of Tom's dead body lying in his living-room, Alex huddled by the wall of the shower. Looking down at his trembling hands, the pruned tips of his fingers beckoned for him to get out. He had lost track of time. Soaping down, he quickly rinsed and shut down the tranquility. Reaching for the towel that he had thrown on the lid of the toilet, he briskly dried his body and wrapped up. A chill tickled the back of his neck and he shuddered. From the corner of his eye, the flash of a bright light poked his temple with the same precision as an ice pick. Alex grabbed the side of his head and squeezed. Tilting his chin down, he momentarily lost his balance. The vision beside him spiraled with a kaleidoscope of luminous shades of green. Slowly, the ribbon of color etched out to form an opening in the center. The eye of the storm.
Alex squinted, straining to focus on the anomaly. Reaching out, he caught a glimpse of the goosebumps mapping their way over the skin of his forearm. He recoiled his hand to his side. What the hell am I doing? Stepping away, he pressed his back against the door and faced his unwanted guest. In the heart of the calm, stood a little girl. Her chestnut braid cascaded down the front of her long white nightgown, masking portions of the pale blue lace trim. Soft brown eyes held the weight of sadness. Both arms stretched out, fully extended, her small hands trying to wriggle closer to him. The child's mouth mimicked the mechanics of conversation, but only silence escaped her pale, pink lips.
"Who are you?" Alex whispered.
The little girl's words fell silent.
"I can't hear you. Can you understand me? If you can, nod your head."
The child nodded yes.
"Are you lost?" Alex inched closer.
Placing her arms by her side, she nodded again.
"Are you in danger?"
Her head turned away.
Alex’s shoulder’s stiffened Not a yes, but not a no either.
"Are you trying to find someone?"
The girl's mouth moved, her lips forming a long trail of silent sentences.
"Whoa. Stop. I still can't hear you." Alex furrowed his brow.