Shimmer (Riley Bloom #2)(19)



And that’s the last thing I heard before I was separated from the prince and sucked even deeper into her world.





14


It’s like, one moment I was standing before the prince like the world’s biggest shell-shocked doofus, and the next I was somewhere entirely different. Noticing how the scorched landscape had made way for a carpet of patchy weeds and rich, red-tinged soil, while the relentlessly falling ash had transformed into a clear and sunny day, allowing me a beautiful view of a pristine blue lake.

I narrowed my eyes and gazed all around, seeing the still navy waters, the towering pine trees, the smoldering campfire … the memory of something nudging me, prodding me, as I gazed down at my clothing and took a quick inventory of faded hand-me-down jeans, mud-covered pink-and-silver sneakers, and a lime green sweatshirt with the sleeves yanked down well past the tips of my fingers in order to hide the charm bracelet I’d borrowed from my sister.

And suddenly, I need look no further.

I knew exactly where I was.

My last trip to the lake.

My last trip with my family.

The last place I ever visited—or at least as a living, breathing resident of the earth plane.

The last time I’d ever hug my parents, play fetch with my dog, or joke around with my sister as a real, live, flesh-and-blood person.

The last time I’d ever be dumb enough to believe that the thing I’d looked forward to most—my thirteenth birthday—was just around the corner.

Everything about that scene feeling as real as it did that day.

Only it wasn’t real. Not even close.

And while part of me knew that, it was only a very small part of me.

Somewhere inside, on some deep-down level, I knew I needed to turn away and focus on something else. Something extremely important. Something in need of my utmost attention.

But the truth was, I was so caught up in the scene, I could no longer remember what that important thing was.

Couldn’t imagine anything more significant than focusing on the splendor that played out before me:

Buttercup running in circles and barking like crazy before jumping into my dad’s SUV and settling onto my knee.

Ever and I bickering and fighting and basically driving both our parents crazy.

Ever discovering she’d left her prized sky blue Pinecone Lake Cheerleading Camp sweatshirt behind, and begging my dad to turn the car around and head back to the lake so that she could retrieve it.

My dad agreeing to do just that despite his concerns about the traffic.

Me singing along to a Kelly Clarkson song I blasted on my iPod—partly because I liked it, and partly because it annoyed Ever.

A deer appearing out of nowhere, dashing right into our lane, as my father swerved to avoid it, smashed through the guardrail, down the embankment, and into a tree that left us all dead.

Me not realizing I was dead.

Me feeling so fine, and good, and alive that halfway across the bridge to the other side I changed my mind and went back to search through those vast fragrant fields for my sister.

Only to find she’d returned to the earth plane—to her body—to life.

Only to discover the horrifying truth that I no longer could.

A fact that made me so angry, the next thing I knew I was stuck in a moment of flaming red rage I was forced to relive over and over again.

A rage so deep, burning so bright, it turned the once vibrating, pulsating field back into its original state of scorched, burned, and unforgivingly seared earth.

Prince Kanta’s warning The moment you let your mind stray from your friends, you lose reduced to a long-forgotten memory.

Prince Kanta was gone.

He had no role in this story.

My entire world had been reduced to a small plot of land consisting of nothing more than my deep seething anger and me.





15


I sank to my knees, threw myself onto a large pile of ash that instantly blackened my clothes, and cried and screamed and cursed and wailed, just like I had then.

Though it’s not like it brought my family back.

It’s not like it returned me to the way I had been.

Still, I was unable to stop, unable to remove myself from the scene.

Unable to focus on anything other than the neverending cycle of anger and rage that threatened to consume me.

If you asked how long it went on, well, the truth is, I have no idea. Somewhere between an eternity and a handful of seconds would be my best guess. Either way, it was far too long for me to be carrying on like I’d been.

But then, eventually, somewhere in the midst of all the shouting and tantrum-throwing came a sort of break.

A brief respite that lasted a split second at best.

A brief respite that contained what I can only describe as a small patch of—silence.

A small, bright space where anger could not exist.

And though it only lasted a moment, from that moment on, a part of me was focused solely on waiting for it to happen again.

And when it did, it seemed to linger just a little bit longer.

And the time after that—longer still.

Until finally, that bright and tiny gap of silence stretched and grew until it expanded into a space just large enough for me to crawl into.

My rage stilled, and soon my anger disappeared, as everything around me and inside me began to settle and calm. Allowing me to observe my situation with such clarity, there was no denying the fact that I was not at all different from anyone else who got stuck in this place.

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