Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(8)

Between English and gym she had a free period, so she spent part of it in the library, looking for books on religious visions—there were none— psychological damage—ditto—and dreams—nothing. Frustrated, she left the library and went down to the gym to change early. She didn’t like changing when all the other girls were around. Unlike her sister, Dana was shy about even being in her underwear around anyone. She was tiny, skinny, and didn’t have much in the way of curves. Not yet. Mom said that puberty sometimes took its time, but that it always caught up. Melissa had looked twenty when she was twelve. Mom tried to tell Dana that looking like a grown woman at that age wasn’t a blessing, but Dana always envied Melissa’s figure. Charm, an outgoing personality, a great sense of humor, and boobs, mused Dana, cataloging her sister’s assets. And what do I have? Moodiness? Better grades? A big dose of being weird? Yeah, that’ll win over all the boys.

The last gym class was still going on and the locker room was empty, so Dana opened her locker and undressed quickly and pulled on the sleeveless, legless, ugly blue onesie that was the girls’ gym uniform. The only good thing about the garment was that no one—not even Donna Bertram, who looked like Farrah Fawcett—looked good in it. She thought she was totally alone until a locker door opened behind her with a soft click. Dana turned, startled, and saw a girl she didn’t know standing there, peering into the crammed locker.

“Oh, sorry,” said Dana, though she had no idea what she was sorry for.

The girl fished for something inside the locker. “It’s cool. I thought I was alone in here.”

“Me too.”

The girl was about Dana’s height, but with a bigger build and lots of thick black hair. She wore a pretty blue blouse and a skirt that was so short Dana wondered if one of the teachers had yelled at her for it. Pantyhose, too, which was equally odd for school. And really nice shoes. Around her neck the girl wore an unusual pendant—a black onyx disk surrounded by stylized flames done in curls of gold, like a total solar eclipse. Even though Dana had never seen that particular piece of jewelry before, there was something strikingly familiar about it.

Dana turned away and began buttoning up her gym suit. The silence of the locker room seemed big, and it felt like it ought to be filled with something. Dana was terrible at small talk, usually falling into the bad habit of commenting on the weather. Today was different, of course, and Dana grabbed the big topic for want of something else to say.

“That was such a shame about what happened to Maisie, wasn’t it?”

The sounds of rummaging stopped. “Maisie? Why? What happened to her?”

“Oh … didn’t you hear?” She looked over her shoulder, but the girl still faced the other way, one hand inside the locker.

“No. What happened?”

“There was a car accident,” said Dana, “and she was killed.”

“Car accident?” said the girl.

“That’s what they’re saying. She was at a party and she hit a tree. So sad. Did you know her?”

The girl withdrew her hand from the locker and stood with her arms hanging loosely at her sides, shoulders slumped, head bowed.

“That’s how Maisie died?” she asked, still not turning around.

“That’s what they said.”

“Who?”

“What?” asked Dana.

“Who said that’s what happened?”

“I don’t know.… Everyone, I guess. It’s all over the school.”

She saw the girl’s shoulders begin to tremble even before she heard the first sob. The girl balled her hands into fists and seemed to cave inward as if punched in the stomach, bent almost double by the news.

“I’m so sorry,” cried Dana. “Was she a friend of yours?”

The sobs were horrible to hear. Deep, broken, bottomless. Dana took a small step toward her, reaching out, almost touching her, but crippled by her own discomfort. Melissa would know what to say, but she did not.

All she could think to do was say, “I’m sorry.” Over and over again.

A split second later, a sudden and unexpected pain flared on Dana’s chest right over her heart. It was as intense as a burn, but the moment Dana touched the spot, the pain vanished. Then the girl turned around and screamed.

It was the loudest sound Dana had ever heard. It filled the whole room and slammed into her like a wave, hit her ears like punches, drove her backward and away, all the way to her own row of lockers. She crashed against the cold metal, clamping her hands to her ears.

And froze.

The girl stood there, facing her, no longer slumped, head up, arms thrown wide, fists open and fingers splayed. Her eyes were so wide that the whites showed all around the brown irises. Her thick hair hung in streamers, partly obscuring her face, the tips moving as if there was a stiff breeze in the room, which there absolutely was not.

Dana could not move. All she could do was stare, her mouth hanging open, eyes as wide as the girl’s.

She saw the pale face, pale skin, but now it was all different, changed.

The girl’s blouse was torn. So was her skirt. Her pantyhose had runs in them, and the expensive shoes were scuffed and dirty, the pendant was gone, and there was a red welt on her neck as if the chain had been forcibly torn away. And the girl was bleeding.

It started with a single drop that slipped from the dark tangle of her hair and ran down her forehead and then soaked into one eyebrow. The blood was a dark red, thick and glistening.