Shimmer (Riley Bloom #2)(20)

We were all just as angry and unforgiving as Rebecca wanted us to be.

I was connected to all of these lost and lonely souls just as sure as they were connected to me.

For that brief split second, I could see the truth of everything—and that’s all it took to break free.

That’s all it took to know that I wasn’t alone, and never had been. I had nothing to fear, nothing to be angry about, and while it was true that I’d never expected my life to end up quite like it did, there was no denying the fact that in a lot of ways it’d ended up a lot better than I ever could’ve imagined.

I rose from my place, watching in astonishment as the scorched field gave way, revealing the bubble in its real and true state—so different from the view Rebecca wanted me to see.

No longer was there falling ash or burned-out trees that morphed into kindergarten classrooms, no longer were there vast and lonely fields, and family trips ending abruptly: There was nothing but a dark and murky crowded sea of wretched, writhing souls, each one trapped in a tormented hell of his own.

I moved among them, wondering what happened to the prince as I searched for Bodhi and Buttercup—eager to try and release them in the same way I’d been. Pushing through a throng of neverending cycles of pain and misery and centuries-old suffering, as I struggled to hold my focus on what I’d just learned, what I needed to remember most, while suppressing my own rising panic that fought to summon my own darker impulses.

Then, just as quickly, I stopped. Stopped right in the middle of all that continuous pain and chaos, thinking that if it was true that we were all connected, then I shouldn’t have to wander very far, if at all. I should be able to stay right where I was, keeping just calm enough and just quiet enough to tune in to this bubble of lost souls and, like the prince said, allow their stories to come forth.

So I shut my eyes tightly and tried to sort through the haze of frenetic energy in order to locate my dog and my guide.

And while I’m happy to report that it didn’t take all that long to find Bodhi—being able to reach him was a whole ’nother matter.





16



I hung back, not quite sure how to proceed. Carefully observing Bodhi, who remained completely unaware of me.

His brow creased, his hands clenched into fists he held tightly to his sides, his lips quivering, teeth gnashing together so hard it rendered his long string of words impossible to decipher.

Knowing he probably wouldn’t like it, knowing that as soon as he was released from whatever torment played out in his head, he’d find some lame excuse to rail on me about invading his privacy (or some other infraction either real or imagined), I went in anyway.

Slowly inching my way toward him until I was close enough to reach for his balled-up hand and grasp it in mine, allowing my energy to stream and merge with his, until I’d eased my way inside his head.

At first, it was impossible to make sense of much of anything. It was messy, chaotic, and extremely confusing—like a super-disorganized bedroom with big piles of papers and clothes and books and stuff littered all over the floor—and it was a while before I was able to get myself settled and get it all sorted out.

Unlike my thoughts (and my room!), which had always been more or less orderly and clear, his weren’t even close. So, I went deeper, eventually sinking so far inside, it was as though I’d become him.

I stood there, feeling tall and awkward as I tried to get used to being inside his body, watching everything play out before me as though it were actually happening to me. Though it all seemed so random and confusing all I could really make out was a school.

From the looks of the lockers and the hand-painted signs that lined up and down the hallway where I stood—all of them touting football games, bake sales, and upcoming dances—I figured it was a high school.

Then, just after I’d finally nailed that, I was on the move. Running with a pair of legs that were far more powerful than the short, skinny ones I was used to, racing to keep up with some girl whose long, dark hair lifted and waved in such a way, I’d convinced myself it was an invitation to follow.

She slipped around a corner and into a library, and I ducked in right behind her. Shielding myself behind the tall shelves of books where I watched, part of me hoping she’d notice me, part of me hoping she wouldn’t, willing to give just about anything to see what she scribbled so furiously in her notebook.

My eyes roamed her, noting the way her hair spilled over her shoulders, the way her backpack leaned against the leg of her chair, the way her boots were crusted with a thin layer of mud, the way her purple ballpoint pen continued to fly across a sheet of lined paper, as my mind swirled with words, declarations, things I longed to tell her but knew I never would.

Too scared to approach her, I chose to just watch her instead. My head spinning with a series of jumbled-up images, a long string of snapshots and phrases, trying to sort through all the random pieces of Bodhi’s memory, the haphazard scrapbook of his brain.

I knew the girl was Nicole—the same girl whose image lured him into the bubble—but what I didn’t know was what he could possibly be so angry about. I mean, in order to be trapped in Rebecca’s world, you had to get pretty riled up about something. And, up to that point anyway, I hadn’t seen a single thing worthy of that kind of rage.

I mean, was it the way she ignored him?

The way she pretended not to notice him, despite the fact that he made a point to always be where she was?