Chaos (17 page)

They pushed out the front door. Jasmine scanned the street quickly, looking for the familiar shock of dyed red hair, or the boy in the dark hooded sweatshirt. Nothing—just a mom pushing a stroller protected with a plastic tarp and several people hurrying along the street, holding umbrellas. Still, the chirp of an alarm was piercing her head. Her senses were in hyperdrive.

Every tiny sound was amplified.

Every wisp of a scent filled her lungs.

Karen’s car smelled like leather and vanilla, and the seats were the softest Jas had ever sat in. Karen pushed a button and the car purred to life. It seemed to take Karen forever to pick a song on her iPod, and Jasmine drummed her fingers impatiently on the seat.

“That’s a good one,” Jasmine blurted out. She glanced
outside the car, sure the people who had been after her would be standing right there, ready to attack again. Once again, the street was clear, but her feeling of unease remained.

The beat of a hip-hop song thumped from the speakers. Karen finally put the car in drive and smoothly pulled away from the curb.

Jasmine exhaled and sat back. It seemed like a million years ago that she’d last been to school. So much had happened since then.

Weird how a whole life could change so quickly.

Her uneasy feeling grew fainter the farther they got from her apartment. Normally, Jas hated going to school. But today it actually felt nice—to pretend she was normal, to pretend she might run into Luc in the halls and do their usual fist bump between classes.

Her throat tightened. Where was he?

“You’re really lucky, you know,” Karen said, out of nowhere.

“Lucky?” It was the last word Jas would have used.

“You have Luc,” Karen said offhandedly, almost as if she’d been reading Jas’s thoughts. She looked over her shoulder and merged into the line of cars heading into the student parking lot. “You’re lucky to have someone who cares about you like that. I’m an only child. I always wanted a brother.” Karen looked so lost that Jas again felt a pull of pity for her. Jas had lumped her in with all the rest of the entitled, spoiled rich kids, but there was a chance she’d been wrong.

She’d been wrong about so many things.

What had Ford said?
The universe is big, and complicated
.

Jasmine reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

“Wait,” Karen said, reaching out to stop her. She bit her lip again. “Look, can you humor me for a second?”

“What do you mean?” Jas asked.

Karen smiled shyly. That was another thing Jas would never have suspected: that someone like Karen could get nervous. Instead of responding, Karen reached into her purse and pulled out a small white jar. She opened it and tipped a little of the jar’s contents on her fingertip, then dabbed it under Jasmine’s eyes. It smelled like peppermint.

“You sort of look like an insomniac. This will help. It’s a godsend after an all-nighter, let me tell you.” Karen put the jar away and pulled out a tube of mascara. She brushed some mascara across Jasmine’s lashes, then sat back with a smile. “Much better.”

Jasmine was unexpectedly moved. “I’ll tell Luc you’re sorry, okay? Maybe it will help,” she blurted out, then climbed out of the car, before Karen was forced to thank her.

As soon as Jas started down the hallway, she knew it had been a big mistake to come to school. The sounds, the smells, the emotions were all overwhelming. Leather sneakers squealed on linoleum. The smell of old beef and industrial cleaner made her stomach turn.

Voices echoed off the walls; it was the first day of
school after the earthquake and everyone was giddy, shouting, comparing stories. Jasmine covered her ears and caught someone staring at her like she was a freak. She dropped her hands, but each sound was like a Ping-Pong ball getting rocketed across her brain.

She started for the cafeteria, thinking she needed water, then thought better of it when she saw Alicia, her best friend since first grade, sitting with a group of their Drama friends. At the beginning of the school year, Jas would have been sitting next to them, drinking hot chocolate they’d coaxed out of the ancient cafeteria machine and swapping stories from the weekend.

But Alicia had pretty much ditched Jas when she started hanging out with T.J. They’d all ditched her. Jas knew it was probably her fault. Alicia didn’t even drink, as far as Jas knew. And Jas had started coming to school stoned and drunk and whatever else.

No more.

A locker slammed and the noise startled her. She jumped and let out an unconscious yelp, and two freshmen giggled. Trisha, a junior, smirked. Then first bell rang.

It drove straight through her head, like a spike between her ears. Jasmine doubled over, not caring what she looked like, clamping her hands over her ears. By the time the ringing stopped, Alicia and Trisha were full-on whispering and shooting her dirty looks. They probably thought she was high.

She hurried back down the hall, toward the one place where she could get away from everything for a little while.

Jas knocked on the door and waited. Mrs. Cole had been trying to corner her for months, but Jas hadn’t felt like talking about her life to anyone, much less a school counselor. Now, she’d do just about anything to get away from the crowds in the halls, from the dizzying amount of sounds and smells.

She’d even deal with Mrs. Cole.

“Jasmine?” Mrs. Cole’s eyes practically popped out of her head. “What a surprise. Come in.” Mrs. Cole shut the door behind them and ushered Jas to a chair in one corner. Instantly, the chaotic noise from the hallway muted and the tension in Jasmine’s body began to dissipate. The office smelled like chamomile tea, and Mrs. Cole looked like she could be a mother on any of those ’90s shows on late-night reruns. She wore her blond hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and loved sweaters with scenes on them and pencil skirts. Her glasses hung on a beaded chain around her neck.

Maybe Mrs. Cole would let her stay there for the rest of the day.

“Please have a seat. I must say, I didn’t think I’d ever see you in here.”

Jasmine sank into a chair gratefully. There were a dozen potted plants around the room, and framed prints of several of Van Gogh’s most famous work. Jas stared at
Starry Night
. A memory danced just out of reach. Where had she seen a sky like that recently?

Mrs. Cole sat down in a rolling chair across from Jasmine’s. “Tell me how you’ve been, Jasmine. I’ve been worried about you. We all have.”

Jasmine looked away. She knew Mrs. Cole was talking about her grades. They’d plummeted earlier this year. Another post-T.J. effect. She picked at a piece of stuffing coming out of a hole in the armchair. “Things have been … weird.”

“Weird, how?”

“I can’t really explain it,” Jasmine said. She wished she could. She wanted to tell so badly.

“How about if we start with right now and work backward?” When Mrs. Cole slipped her glasses on, she looked like an overinquisitive bird. “How do you feel right this minute?”

That was easy. “Confused. Alone. Scared.”

Mrs. Cole latched onto the last one. “Let’s talk about why you feel scared.” Jasmine didn’t answer. If Jas said there were strange people called Executors trying to kill her, Mrs. Cole would think she was taking drugs again.

“Is it the boy you’re with?” Mrs. Cole asked softly.

“T.J.?” Jasmine shook her head. “I broke it off with him Friday night.”

“And now you’re scared,” Mrs. Cole repeated. She sighed and leaned forward. “Is he threatening you, Jasmine? Did he hurt you? There’s no excuse for violence. We can get the police involved. You don’t have to be scared anymore.” Mrs. Cole laid her hand on Jasmine’s arm and squeezed.

Jasmine quickly withdrew her arm from Mrs. Cole’s grasp. “T.J. didn’t do anything. I mean, he was pissed, yeah. But I haven’t heard from him since Friday.” Jasmine was distracted by the memory of something else, something
right there on the edge of her memory
. Why couldn’t she reach it? Why?

The woman … the beach … the ring glittering in the woman’s hand …

And something else. Something afterward.

A forest. No, a garden.

“What are you scared of, then?” Mrs. Cole asked. Her voice sounded far away.

Jasmine answered automatically, without thinking. “I drive people away.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and suddenly she knew it was true. Why had she never seen it before? Her friends. Her family. And now Ford, who was barely more than a stranger. No one wanted to be around her anymore.

What was wrong with her? She ducked her head so Mrs. Cole wouldn’t notice her eyes filling with tears.

Mrs. Cole leaned forward and took both of Jasmine’s hands in hers, then waited patiently until Jasmine looked up. “Jasmine, you’re young, and you’ve been through a lot in your life. It isn’t fair, but you’re strong, and you can overcome it. You just need to learn to trust yourself. You’re a beautiful and special girl. You need to believe in yourself.”

Something glittered just behind Mrs. Cole’s eyes. It
wasn’t pity. It was more like a personal understanding, something they had in common.

“Thank you,” Jasmine said. “I—I feel better now.” She did feel better after talking to Mrs. Cole, but the thought of going back out there, into the halls, into a classroom, made her head start to throb again.

Mrs. Cole stared at her for another long moment. Then she sat back and rolled her chair over to her desk. “I’ll write you a pass. How does that sound? You can go sit in the gardens till next period.” Mrs. Cole scratched her pen across a neat pad of passes and handed the pass to Jasmine, along with a key card.

Mission High had an amazing atrium in the center of the building where seniors could go and study on their free periods. The flora was gorgeous and lush and exotic. The school even had a gardener who took care of it all.

“But I’m not a senior,” Jasmine said.

Mrs. Cole smiled. “Seniors and special passes only.”

“Thank you.” It was just what she needed—a place to hide out, to blend in, to think. Jasmine took the pass and started out the door.

“Jasmine, please don’t be a stranger. I think we can make some good progress if you come and see me regularly.” Mrs. Cole’s voice trailed her out into the hallway.

The halls were empty now. Her sneakers squeaked loudly on the colorful tile. She could hear teachers droning on behind closed doors, the murmur of whispered voices, markers squeaking across whiteboards. She had never been in the atrium, and as she swiped the card across the reader, she felt a little like she had when Ford
had guided her beyond the chain-link fence at the Golden Gate Bridge—like she was doing something illegal.

The air inside the atrium was thick with the sweet, musky smell of the flowers. Jasmine inhaled deeply and a strange urge came alive inside her. She felt part of nature, like she could actually tune in to the gentle hum of life all around her.

In the center of the room, a great weeping willow grew taller than any she’d ever seen. Its branches arched gracefully before letting down fine wisps of leaves like a beautiful waterfall. There were crescent-shaped stone benches around its base. Jasmine sat down gratefully and closed her eyes.

A low buzzing filled the air, like the drone of hundreds of bumblebees. She opened her eyes, surprised, but saw nothing. Even though the atrium was enclosed, the tips of the willow brushed her cheek, almost as if it were caressing her, dancing on some inexplicable wind.

An image sprang into her mind, of thousands of trees just like this one.

And humming—humming like the humming in her head.

A forest. No, a garden.

The vision felt so real, so achingly familiar. Something unleashed inside Jasmine’s chest, made its way up into her throat. She began humming along with the noise in her head. The melody was a part of her, one she knew intimately already.

The willow branches swayed over her head.

It was magical and beautiful and wrong.

The shrill ring of a school bell snapped Jasmine from her trance. Outside the glass-enclosed atrium, the hallways filled with kids pushing and laughing and talking. The door clicked and several senior girls entered, chattering about an upcoming dance.

Jasmine stood up quickly as the girls settled at a table. She didn’t want to answer questions about why she was there and how she’d gotten a pass, so she quickly made her way into the hallway. After being in the atrium, the overhead lights were so bright she had to squint to see. The air was heavy with the smells of sweat and body spray and
people
.

She needed air.

The soft humming had turned into a high-pitched whine that made her want to shove her fingers into her ears and scream. She practically threw herself out the front doors, into the parking lot.

The whine in her head stopped.

The silence was deafening.

Jasmine stood, blinking, inhaling the smell of gasoline and grass and openness. The sky was now a perfect blue and the sun was warm on her skin. She remembered now—there had been a forest, and she had been part of it,
connected
to it. There had been trees that spoke to her in an ancient language, and life that ran through her veins like sunshine.

A new urge came to life, fueled by fatigue and desperation. She’d been hiding and running away from the truth for days.

It was time to stop running.

It was time to stop hiding, too. She wouldn’t go back to school—not while Luc was missing, not while there were people after her and a mysterious woman named Miranda controlling them all. She was reenergized, re-motivated. She jogged across the soccer fields and cut toward the bus stop, enjoying the slice of air in her lungs.

No matter what Ford said, he had answers; she’d make him tell her what was going on, even if she had to follow him to the ends of the earth. He must be planning to return to his hideout at some point—he’d left his camp stove and bag. And when he did, she would be right there waiting for him.