Read Online It Begins by Richie Tankersley Cusick - Free Book Online

of her face.
    She heaved again, but there was nothing in her stomach but pain.
    “Thank you,” she managed to whisper.
    “No need,” the voice whispered back to her. “The first time’s always the worst.”
    Lucy lifted her head.
    Turning around, she stared out at the bare floor, at the row of sinks and the dingy mirror stretching over them, reflecting nothing.
    “Hello?” she called shakily. “Who’s there?”
    Her voice echoed back to her from the bathroom walls. With trembling fingers, she took the paper towel from the back of her neck and got slowly to her feet. One by one, she moved down the row of stalls and opened each door, but they were all empty.
    “The first time’s always the worst …”
    Without warning a group of girls came giggling in from the hallway. Was one of them the kind-hearted stranger? But none of the girls even glanced her way, so Lucy ran fresh water onto the paper towel and blotted it over her face. Mrs. Lowenthal was right—she
was
pale—
frighteningly
pale.
Think, Lucy, think! Try and calm down … try to put things in perspective …
    Perspective? How could she possibly be calm or rational about all the things that had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours? She was way past confusion now—way beyond frightened. Something had taken hold of her back there in the classroom—something had
consumed
her back there in the classroom—something she didn’t understand and certainly hadn’t been able to control. Something had crept over her and through her, transporting her to another place and time—she’d
seen
things,
felt
things—
horrible
things, intense and painful and terrifyingly real, and yet …
    And yet there’d been no
complete
picture, Lucy realized. Nothing like a carefully posed photograph or neatly framed painting or smooth sequence of movie scenes running logically through her mind.
    No, this had been different.
    Just flashes of things, glimpses of things, puzzle pieces spilled helter-skelter from a box. Things without order, things that made no sense, though she felt they
should make sense
, and
did
make sense somehow, if only she could put them together …
    Frowning, she stared down at her hand. The strange crescent scar stood out sharply against her palm, and there was a faint, lingering ache along her fingertips.
    The necklace.
    Lucy shut her eyes … opened them again … drew a slow intake of breath.
    There was darkness … and death … and it started when I picked up that necklace …
    The bathroom door swung shut. As Lucy turned in surprise, she realized that all the girls had left, and that Angela was now standing beside her.
    “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Angela gave an exasperated sigh. “What the hell happened back there?”
    Lucy couldn’t answer. She watched dully as her cousin leaned toward the mirror and primped at her hair.
    “Well?” Angela demanded.
    “I … felt like I was going to pass out,” Lucy murmured.
    “I’ve never seen anyone shake like that before they passed out,” Angela said, casting Lucy a critical glance. “God, you look even worse nowthan you did last night. Whatever you’ve got, you better not be contagious.”
    “Who’s the guy in class?” Lucy asked tersely.
    “What
are you talking about?”
    “The dark-haired guy sitting in front of me.”
    “Byron?”
    Lucy nodded, tight-lipped.
    “Well, what about him?” Tilting her head, Angela gave her hair one more fluff. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you’re
interested.”
    Lucy merely shrugged.
    “Right. Another smitten female falls under the spell of the mysterious Byron Wetherly,” Angela announced. Then her lips curled in a dry smile. “Well, yeah, he’s gorgeous.
And
sexy.
And
so very,
very
cool. But … you know … every girl in school is after him.”
    She paused a moment, as if considering a matter of great importance. Then she lifted one eyebrow, amused.
    “Frankly, Lucy, I wouldn’t bet on your chances.”
    Ignoring the remark,