Edge of the Sky

Chapter 8

Pain(n.) highly unpleasant physical sensation caused by illness or injury

Fast forward about three weeks.

I'm sitting on the sofa with Ezra covered in Pringle crumbs while bawling my eyes out to Me Before You.

Actually, scratch that. Fast forward a few more days after that.

I'm sitting in Mrs Hirsch's class. That's more like it.

Over the past three weeks I had gone through about three of the journals Dean had handed me. He'd only gone through half of one. He'd been coming to my house (through the front door this time, as per my request) and we've been going over the diaries.

Who am I kidding? We spend most of our time eating on my bedroom floor and dancing pathetically to my mp3.

Anyways back to the present. I'm sitting in Mrs Hirsch's class right in the back. Thankfully, Courtney was playing truant today so I sat alone. Mrs Hirsch had working on some narrative essays which she extended to five pages instead of two. Oh how I hate this woman.

Halfway through my second page I could feel heat building up in my sweater. Which was odd because it was around 17 degrees Celsius outside and all the windows were open. Frowning, I pulled it off and continued with my work.

Five minutes afterwards I began to sweat. It felt like someone had put a heater on full blast right in my face. The closest window was three rows in front of me and there was no way that anybody would switch on the fans. Kira must have noticed my distress because she was looking at me, concern etched into her features. I fanned my face to signal that I was feeling hot and Kira's eyes windened.

I frowned and mouthed "what?" and Kira began frantically pointing at her hand. I looked down to find my hands glowing a dim blue. In that moment I panicked and thin wisps of blue shot out from my fingertips, sending my desk falling with a loud bang. I stood up hastily, hiding my hands behind my back as the whole classroom turned to look at me. Kira face-palmed so hard I'm sure she left a bruise and I'm pretty sure Dean was dying of laughter under his desk. Mrs Hirsch peered at me over the rims of her glasses before shaking her head.

"I don't have time for this Ms Korir just pick it up and get back to work," she sighed, returning to the pile of test papers in front of her.

"Sorry ma'am," I muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

I quickly pulled the desk back up and gathered my things. Kira mouthed a "what's wrong?" and I shrugged, trying my best to get back to my work.

Throughout the rest of the lesson my back began to ache. It was like the muscles under my skin were rewiring themselves, flexing and contracting all over the place. The ache was dull, as if some lazy torturer is standing right behind me, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance. If this was a fever it would definitely be the worst I ever had.

As I began working on my conclusion, my chair began to slip away. That's what I thought until I realised it was me slipping off my chair. I groaned, now sitting about ten centimetres above the seat of my chair. After some internal conflict I raised my hand and excused myself to the bathroom.

The moment Mrs Hirsch let me out I half ran, half floated out of the classroom. It felt like I was trying to sprint on the surface of the moon.

The hallways were pretty much empty save for a janitor doing some last minute cleaning. Everyone else was in class which I was ridiculously thankful for. The teachers have tried their bit, hanging posters and painting artworks to bring out some colour but it still had that air of dullness. The floor is shiny though, just like the water in the mornings, brought to a high polish by the janitors.

I skidded into the nearest ladies washroom and locked myself in a stall. Chest heaving, I sat down on the toilet seat. Beads of sweat ran down my forehead. I still felt like I was locked up in a furnace. The walls of the bathroom stall were vibrating so much I wouldn't be surprised if the entire thing collapsed.

This was the first time this had ever happened to me in the history of ever.

I sat in the bathroom dead silent until the bell rang. I had only been gone for ten minutes anyway. I knew Kira would take my stuff for me so I waited until the hallway rush was over and went straight to the lockers.

Now that the hallways were pretty much empty, I got my locker open and pulled out all the books I needed for the next half of the school day. I felt somebody move behind me and not so long after a pair of hands was placed over my eyes. I turned quickly and an uncontrollable flash of blue light gushed out of my palms, throwing my attacker across the hallway and into a wall.

I gasped in shock when I realized it was Dean.

He groaned and began to get up, a pained expression on his face.

"Thank God the camera didn't pick up that one," he mumbled, steadying himself on the wall.

"I am so sorry. I didn't do it on purpose I swear!" I gushed, looking him over and feeling around to see if he was okay.

He raised a hand and moved me away.

"No harm done. Well, some harm, but I'll live," he shook out his leg and began helping me pick up my books.

"What even was that?" he asked, pausing to look me in the eye.

"I don't know," I replied, avoiding his gaze.

He stood up first and held out a hand for me, which I was forced to decline.

"My powers have been all haywire batshit crazy since English," I stated, running a hand through my hair. Sadly it got caught in a tangle which was pretty embarrassing to have to fix in front of Dean.

He didn't seem to notice though. Either that or he didn't care much for it.

"What triggered it?" he asked, dusting off his jersey, one hand in his pocket.

"I don't know," I sighed, defeated.

Dean glanced behind me briefly and squinted. When I turned I saw nothing. I could hear him muttering something under his breath, something I couldn't quite make out.

He suddenly stopped walking and cupped my face. If I were any skin shade lighter I would've looked like a downright tomato. My cheeks were completely flushed, the blush surely showing on my cocoa skin.

"Go home. Get to the nurse, tell her you're sick, fake it if you have to. It's not safe here," he said sternly.

I had to search his face a little to see if he was joking. He wasn't.

I couldn't say anything. I just nodded. Even though I'd be lying to get out of school, dad would understand me leaving before I killed somebody.

Dean let go and cleared his throat.

"You best get going as soon as possible. I'll come check on you after school," with one squeeze of my shoulder he continued walking, leaving me in the hallway star-struck.

With some convincing over the phone, my dad agreed to come pick me up. He didn't seem too happy about it but he knew what would happen if he didn't.

At home I walk like my limbs don't really belong to me and each step is a negotiation rather than an order. I get to the kitchen cabinet and chug down some painkillers and fever meds that really just don't seem to work. As a matter of fact, the headache only seemed to escalate from a mild inconvenience to skull shattering madness.

Unwillingly, I dragged myself up the stairs to get to work on some school assignments. That was the deal. I could only leave if I continued my work at home. Was everyone being a sadist that day or was this just really bad karma?

In the end I collapsed on my textbook and fell asleep mouth open. Whatever was plaguing me had a firm grip and didn't want to let go.

A/N:Stay with me folks! Like, comment and come back next time!